Dragonbound: Birthrights (Book 2)

The next morning, Kiaran woke before the sun peaked over the mountains in the east. She sat in her chambers, wearing a simple dress of white and gold. Her hands ran through her hair that was slung over a shoulder. Her fingers touched the beads that collected at the bottom of her braids. Closing her eyes, she sighed softly. Why did she have to feel so...alone?

Nurra sat at her bare feet watching her closely. The fireplace held a dying flame which filled the room with the scent of burning wood. She could remember all the nights she spent at the campfires with Torin and Stella. The eve of battles she had carved through to keep alive...The scent was very nostalgic.

Nurra cocked his head to the side and she smiled, gently pulling her fingers over his head, feeling his cool scales. She jumped as someone knocked on the door. Forcing herself to stand, she opened it.

Elsibellem bowed to her, saying, “Your Majesty...Cyrin is awaiting you in the library for a debriefing.”

Kiaran sighed, saying, “Please stand, Elsi.”

“Yes,” she stood. She smiled at her queen and simply watched her for a moment.

Kiaran could see a look of worry in her eyes. Lowering her brows slightly, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she replied softly. “Thank you for your concern.”

She stepped out of her room, the carpet soft on her skin. Looking down, she realized she was still barefoot. Reluctantly, she returned to her room to pull on some shoes.

She and Nurra followed Elsibellem to the library, the walk long and silent. Once there, she opened the door and bowed as she waited for Kiaran to enter.

Cyrin stood with his back to her, watching the fire dance in the mantle. His arms were folded across his back, his black shirt shining against the embers. His stance was always empowering and his hair so clean and always brushed back. His purple eyes moved to her and she paused.

She wondered for the longest time why it wasn’t Cyrin to take the throne. He was intelligent, strong, kind...and exactly what a royalist needed to be. She smiled at him. She was lucky he was there to help her through it all, otherwise...she’d look a fool.

“I apologize for sending Elsi to wake you,” he said.

“No,” she shook her head, “I was already awake.”

A brow lowered and he said, “That is unusual.”

She grinned, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You had a rather busy day yesterday, it is understandable,” he replied. “Anyhow, we are to have the meeting about your treaties and alliances. Your mother was wanting to be sure you were ready.”

He moved to the table near the mantle. It was covered in papers and books, waiting for her. Kiaran’s expression dropped as she stared. He could see the boredom in her eyes and he grinned. “These papers were mine, they aren’t for you today,” he said in amusement. “You needn’t get bored before we even begin.”

“Sorry,” she exhaled as she sat at the table.

He proceeded to explain about each of the leaders. Grindall appreciated metals and gems, all of which could be found in the northern mountains of Avestitia. Brinn was small, but well known for its magnificent and beautiful buildings.

Trindal was particularly fond of silks and merchants; however, Princess Danalla was not so easily influenced by Avestitia. Trindal was a rather small country and needed Avestitia primarily for defense. Brinn had always held an alliance with Avestitia, but Trindal was once a part of the larger country, Trindal-VinCar.

Now, with every new leader, they revise the treaties to be sure the agreements were to continue being met and cover anything that might need changed.

“What about Trindal-VinCar?” Kiaran asked.

“What about it...?” he replied.

“Sterjia sent someone to me last night and was hoping for an alliance,” she explained.

“Not a wise decision,” he shook his head. “Not many know her,” he continued slowly. “Anyone we’ve sided with, we at least know about. She has a lot of land and a lot of people, but as far as I’ve heard, her people are in poor condition and her servants are as well.”

“Should we look into it or simply tell her no?” she pressed.

“You are the queen-to-be,” he reminded her. “It is your decision”

“No,” she urged. “It never really is.”

His eyes narrowed at her, leaning on the table. His hands pressed on the wood, his expression hard. “Let her down easily. I have a feeling she is more powerful than she is leading on.”

“I feel it as well,” she breathed.

Once the sun was up for a few hours, the leaders were in the meeting room, sitting around a large table of dark cherry wood. Kiaran sat at the head of the table, her back erect and her chin level with the floor. The golden crown stretched across her forehead, standing a few inches tall. It was thin, looking mostly like chain with gems and etchings in it. As it wrapped around her head, behind her ears it turned into chains that intertwined with her hair, wrapping up in her bun on the back of her head.

Strands of gold chains and small, metallic beads hung from her hair. The powders and paints on her face were beautiful, highlighting her eyes and dark upon her lips. She was the perfect picture of a queen. The memories that lied behind her steel-blue eyes could only add to her clear determination.

Though she wasn’t queen yet, Ritiann wanted her to have as much experience as possible. So, she allowed her daughter to lead this meeting. But not without entrusting Cyrin to her side.

The fur that wrapped around Kiaran’s shoulders was itching at her skin, but she forced her mind off it. She looked to each of the leaders sitting at the table. “King Rinall Grindall of Brinn, Princess Danalla Priscol of Trindal. Thank you for being here today so we may go over our agreements once more,” she began. Cyrin was sitting beside her, watching silently as they began their bargains and conversations.

“Well, Princess Kiaran,” Grindall sat his meaty hand on the table, his short--yet wide--stature catching her attention, “I understand that our agreement was to receive resources in your northern mountains for our buildings, but your dragons are swarming there and will not allow us inside. We’ve always had the agreement that you receive half of what we mine out of there. But how can we do so if we cannot even get there?”

“Do I need to ask them to leave?” she responded blandly. Cyrin stared at her as she waited for a response from the man. That was not a proper answer, she realized. She raced to come up with a solution. Her eyes darted to Cyrin who simply returned the stare. His gaze was not helpful...She inhaled slowly as she said, “I will be sure they remain passive as your men travel into our mountains.”

She realized how easy it was to blurt out something. Perhaps she should watch her tongue more closely...

“How can you do that?” he scoffed.

“I have my ways. Have you ever bonded with a dragon?” her voice was very scornful, which only made Cyrin less comfortable. Perhaps she should work on her etiquette.

“No, but I do not like the answers you are giving me,” he stressed.

She tried so hard not to say it, but her tongue just shoved the words out like vomit, “I...don’t care if you like it.” Eyes widened and everyone grew tense. “We’ve not wronged you before, and I certainly don’t plan to.”

“I’ll see to it that you do not,” he growled.

“I have nothing to worry about if I do nothing wrong,” she grew arrogant with him. The anger on his face made the room heavy.

Danalla slowly took her attention from Grindall and looked to Kiaran. “My Lady, I do not want to argue with you as Grindall might...But there is a caravan of merchants that always makes its way through Priuti--”

She glanced to Cyrin who whispered, “The capital of Trindal.” She nodded as the woman continued. She likely didn't even notice their short exchange.

“He brings our silks like clockwork every three months...Yet he had not been to the city in six...Nobody has been to Trindal in six months. Not a single merchant and very few travelers. I am concerned.”

“That is strange,” she admitted. “I will send someone to see to it.”

“Thank you.”

Ninna took the attention from everyone by saying, “On behalf of Queen Sterjia, we would like to be allies as well. We are inspired by your bonds with the dragons of these lands and would like that to spread into Trindal-VinCar as well.”

Kiaran watched Ninna a moment without answering her. Slowly, she stood and everyone followed suit. “Thank you for coming and I look forward to working with you in the near future,” she said toward the entire room.

Trying not to show her discomfort, she said, "Currently, we are not interested in ties with Trindal-VinCar."

Kiaran watched the woman, her narrow features contrasted strongly by the shadows the sun cast through the windows. The woman bowed to her with clenched jaws. "Your Highness," she seemed to hum warmly despite her expression. "I hope that you will reconsider."

“I cannot simply jump into an agreement with a country I know nothing about. Perhaps at a later time I will accept. But as of now, I don’t believe it is wise,” she said.

Ninna was still in shock, her eyes locked firmly on Kiaran. She, then, stormed away, Grindall nearly as angry. Everyone flooded from the room and she looked to Cyrin.

“You happened to only enrage two people at your first meeting,” he said. “You did well.”

“I did?” she nearly laughed. “I wouldn’t have guessed it.

“You did fine, Your Highness.”

As they walked through the hall, she found Torin waiting for her. She glanced to Cyrin who harbored a look of discomfort. She stared at him and he finally greeted Torin. “Holloway,” he lowered his head in respect.

“Cyrin,” he nodded. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” he responded as he walked away.

Kiaran moved to Torin’s side as they slowly walked the halls. “I hope you plan to keep in contact with me,” she said.

“Well, yes, I suppose,” he laughed. “Actually, I was thinking we could...aid each other with quests now and again. Travel together...like the old days.” His words were slow, soft...his eyes were hopeful.

Before it could grow any more uncomfortable, Brick rounded the corner, waving a hand in the air at them. Relief washed over her face as she smiled at his arrival. She waved back, saying, “I was thinking we could go see more of Vintar today before you leave.”

“Absolutely,” Torin returned the smile.

The three of them traveled out the walls of the castle to the rest of the city surrounding it. The sun was high above them, shining through the tall evergreen trees. In the far distance the heavy rain clouds were sluggishly making their way toward Vintar.

“It seems rather wild how things turned out for each of us,” Brick pointed out. “You are a queen and your brother is a king...”

“It does feel odd...like it just doesn’t fit together right,” Torin said lowly as his eyes moved to Kiaran. She slowed her pace as she tried her hardest to ignore his attention. Brick could feel the awkwardness between them and his face hardened just so slightly.

“Torin, you are the head hunter of a tribe,” Kiaran said. “You have a high roll...and you’re married now, too. We are not the only ones who have changed.”

“That is true,” Brick agreed brightly.

A red dragon with a long, serpent-like body walked in front of a shop. It rested its front talons on the wall as it reached up, adjusting the wooden sign that hung above the door. The short, round owner watched her dragon, hands on her hips. Kiaran smiled and the woman noticed her right away. Quickly, she bowed.

The city was busy, mostly with playing children and rushing workers. A few dragons raced around with their human companions. The buildings were made mostly with cedar wood and gray stone, and the roads were made up of broken, matching stone placed beautifully for perfect patterns. Everything was placed and crafted precisely.

“This place is amazing,” Torin said as he looked about.

Brick, also, was looking in amazement, a smile on his face. His indigo coat was pressed nicely into place, the collar standing against his neck. The broad man chuckled and said, “You two were some good friends back in the City. It’s a little quieter now, without you, Kiaran.”

“I apologize,” she half-smiled as she paced to a silk stand.

The dainty woman behind it panicked and bowed, saying, “Y-your majesty, I am humbled.”

“No need,” Kiaran smiled. She gently took a white train of silk, silver shadows dancing across the smooth fabric. She placed a gold coin in its place and dipped her head, saying, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she gasped as she excitedly took the coin, holding it to her chest.

They continued forward as the patrons bowed to her, growing excited by her presence. “I am sure Ritiann is ready to hand over the throne,” Brick said.

“I think so, as well,” Kiaran nodded. “I was the one who kept postponing the ceremony.”

“You’d rather be a general, wouldn’t you?” Torin laughed. “Sitting on a hard chair verses being on the battlefield...It sounds absurd for you to be in the castle.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “we are not in a war right now, anyhow.”

“Not that you should be, either,” Brick cut in. “You deserve to relax for a while. Take your life slowly and do not rush yourself any closer to dying.”

“That’s not what I was saying,” Torin said uneasily.

“Of course not,” Kiaran sighed, “that is enough bickering. I thought I only had to deal with that between the brothers, but you too, Brick?” She jested as she pulled forward.

Torin’s stomach twisted slightly as he watched her white dress flow in the soft breeze. He ripped his eyes from her, thinking of Lianna. His wife should be on his mind...not Kiaran.

She looked over her shoulder at them, the light reflecting off the scars over her eye and the gold ring threaded through her nostril, and one in her brow. She smiled and it was beautiful.

“Are you coming?” she tossed a hand into the air, confused by their stand-still. In response, he followed after her.

That afternoon, Kiaran sat on the balcony with her mother, Cyrin, and Elsibellem. In the street below, a show was climaxing. The dancers swirled their ribbons and leaped to the sides of the street. A man walked down the road between them, dressed in decorated red and black armor. He wore a helmet to hide his face and a large sword with a black blade in one hand. He held it into the air and everyone cheered. Kiaran watched, her eyes locked on them as the show continued.

It wasn't easy to desipher what was happening. Likely because Kiaran lived in a very acutely direct world. Theater was something new to her.

A woman with long, black hair crept her way to the man. Her body was clothed in rags. A dragon slinked beside her, its black scales speckled with green and pink. She was hunched over, the dragon also low to the ground. The armored man looked to her and she stood straight up, curving her back like a cat. The dragon did as she did, standing on its hind legs. Its wings stretched out, looking extreme.

The man sheathed his sword and took her by the hand, pulling her to his chest. The storm clouds in the distance rolled toward them, lightening still sparking across them. It added to the show, making it all the more intense. The dragon held its wings around the man and woman for a moment. The other dancers took the stage ahead of them, singing as they leapt about gracefully.

Instantly, the wings tore away from them. The dancers followed suit, falling where they stood. The woman was now standing erect, her body wrapped in black velvet and her face painted with gold and purple. The crowd grew excited.

Cyrin was sitting beside Kiaran and ever so slightly leaned toward her, speaking softly, “They are playing out your mother and father.”

She nodded as she kept her eyes on them. “This is surprising,” she said. “They are very good at this.”

“Aye,” he replied.

Ritiann watched with tired eyes, a soft smile across her lips. The pain was visible in her eyes. She missed her husband. Kiaran watched her mother, her heart dipping into her stomach.

The woman stood, Elsibellem at her side. “I am to retire to my rooms if anyone needs me,” she said weakly. She looked to her daughter, pride swelling within her. “My child...I am very pleased with you,” she said as she left.

Cyrin sat silently with her and watched the street crowded with people. A group of people began playing music and everyone joined with a partner and began dancing. Kiaran’s face was much softer than a moment ago. Cyrin saw the thoughts tugging and pushing in her mind and he asked, “What is wrong?”

“Did you know my father?” she asked.

“Somewhat,” he shook his head. “I am only two years older than you, so I don’t remember much of him. I hadn’t started working for Ritiann until he was gone.”

Her brows lowered and she asked, “How long has he been gone?”

“Years,” he said slowly. “Your mother never told you what happened?” She shook her head, her eyes pleading for answers. “I believe you should talk to her...she will tell you if you ask.” His eyes moved past her to Torin as he silently stood in the doorway. Standing, he said, “I will let you be, now.”

She followed his gaze to her old friend who smiled. Torin walked by Cyrin and took his seat. He leaned forward, his elbows resting against his legs as his fingers weaved together. The sky grew darker and the soft sounds of thunder filled the air. He stared at the sky with Kiaran.

“Are you still afraid of storms?” he asked.

“Yes, I don’t believe that will change. But it isn't as bad as it was.”

“Well,” he grinned, “you are not panicking, that is good.”

“I suppose,” she sighed. “But I am also not in the middle of the forest, either.”

“Point,” he nodded. They sat quietly for a moment. “You seem to have the perfect place to live in.”

“I suppose,” she shrugged.

“What is missing?” he lifted a hand toward the street, “You have amazing celebrations. You have a family, and friends here. What is missing?”

Her brows creased slightly as her heart pounded. “I’m missing you.” He froze in her gaze. “You are my best friend, and Davin as well...”

“Perhaps you should visit,” he replied hesitantly.

“I should,” she agreed. “And it seems as though we both got what we wanted.”

“Oh?”

“I have a home and a place that needs me,” she said. “You got your family like you always wanted.”

A hand moved through his hair as he slinked back into his seat, admiring the sky above him. “Davin never wanted to be king, but he is now...” he said slowly. “He is doing well with it.”

“You don’t get along...but you admire him, don’t you?” she asked.

“He is my older brother,” he shrugged. “So...I suppose so.”

It seemed to take forever to think of a different subject, but she finally did. “Are you and your wife planning on having children together?”

“Actually,” his fingers tightened around each other once more, “Lianna is pregnant.”

“Oh,” she gazed at him. Her eyes widened as she turned to him, saying, “Oh. Um, congratulations.” He smiled, but she could see the worry on his face. “Why are you worried? You just need to be extra careful when hunting or on mad adventures. She needs you to return home.”

“That is what I fear,” he replied. “I don’t want to leave her like her first husband did.”

“You won’t.” Her voice was strong, reassuring. “You will fight as hard for her as you ever fought for anyone else.”

“I haven’t even told my family,” he laughed nervously.

“Why not?” she was surprised

“Really?” he sighed. “We are not close, Kiaran. You know that. I think the only reason Davin was involved with much of anything,” he waved his hands at her, “was because of you.”

Her face reddened slightly as she fought to reply. “Has he not done anything with anyone else?”

“No,” Torin shook his head, “He hasn’t. He’s been running all over the country, doing his job...But he avoided my wedding, he won’t visit our parents, and he seems to be obsessed with his royal duty verses anything else. Not a single letter for anyone.”

“...Are you sure about that?” she asked softly.

“I know for a fact. He thought I was an idiot child who followed anyone with a pair of breasts.” Her jaws tightened as she eyed him curiously. “I know he thought it was pointless to chase after me to help me against Murdock...The only reason he did was because it was you and not another woman.” Her eyes continued to drill into him and he added, “He doesn’t seem to care about anyone else.”

“It takes two to work on the relationship,” she retorted.

“What?”

“You could put in an effort as well. I don’t imagine you’ve tried very hard to be close to him,” she said. But again, she realized she had shut Torin out. When he didn’t reply, she sighed, softening her eyes and voice. “Let us not waist our time on this.”

A few drops of rain fell on them, the sky filling with thunder. They stood and made their way inside through the glass doors behind them.

Nurra raced down the hall toward them, Torin laughing. “He is like an excitable toddler. ‘Mother’s home’,” he mocked.

Kiaran grinned as she leaned over and reached an arm out for him. He moved up to her shoulder, touching his nose to her cheek. It was cold and smooth, a calming reminder of his presence. “Are you ready to go back to Rishana tomorrow?” she asked.

“We are,” he nodded uneasily.

“Well,” she sighed, “I will be sure to visit more often...or at least write.”

“You should,” he agreed.

It was silent as they walked the halls. Kiaran’s mind swarmed with questions of her father. She glanced to Nurra as he clutched onto her shoulder. His orange eyes digging into her...his...orange, “eyes,” she breathed.

“What?” Torin questioned.

Her heart raced as she made the connection. Nurra was Estiahn’s dragon. If they had bonded, then his eyes, too, would be orange. She looked to Torin and said, “I’ve met my father before.”

Flashes of memories came to her—A man slamming through the front door, his clothing black and silver with red silk that draped from his shoulder to his belt.. The only thing she could see was his orange gaze.

“What are you talking about?” Torin pressed. But her mind continued to race before her eyes.

--Nathanial was knocked into the wall beside the front door, knocking the lit candles from the table. The little flames went out and the smell of the light smoke filled her nostrils He was tall, broad, and powerful. Nathanial’s wife pulled her into the room off to the side. Her stomach was swollen with Grace, nearly ready for labor.

“Kiaran...?”

--Their voices filled the small house, the woman trying not to cry. Kiaran stood silently...emotionless. Finally, Nathanial was thrust into the room with them, landing on his chest, his hands flat on the wood floor. The man pressed a knee into his back as he slammed his fist into Nathanial’s head, his face slamming the floor. Blood poured out, the smell stout and creeping into her lungs.

Kiaran’s eyes filled with tears as she fought them down, her throat swelling. Torin’s brows lowered as he leaned into her view.

--The only thing that stopped Estiahn from killing him was the little girl...Kiaran stood there, so young and with a blank face. He paused, fist in the air as he locked eyes with her. Orange eyes...They seemed to glow. Slowly, he stood and drew his sword. The hairs on her body stood on ends. Please, she wanted him to die. He dug his sword into the wood just beside Nathanial’s head as he lay limp. His voice...it was so demanding and strong, and yet flowed like honey, “This child will not be tampered with.” With that...he left.

Her eyes finally lifted to Torin who watched her with his always concerned gaze. “Are you alright?” he asked slowly.

“I have met my father, Torin,” she said in shock, her breath hardly coming. She grabbed his arm, unable to say anything else.

“...Is that good?” he asked. He had no idea who her father was, what he was like. But...neither did she.

“Yes,” she smiled, her tears blinking away. Tapping his hand, she gestured for him to follow her.

She dashed along the halls until they came to a large, decorated pair of red doors. Pushing one of them open, she led him inside. The walls were lined with perfectly crafted lamps that glowed against the red painted walls. It was a long room with windows ten feet tall and half as wide. Between each window was a painting of the same size. However, the paintings were scenic. They showed the beauty of Avestitia. The mountains, the seas, the forests.

At the end of the hallway were three, tall steps cloaked with a red rug. Atop those steps was a heavily decorated throne. It was tall and gold with gems and fabrics that adorned it perfectly. Sitting in the seat was a cloak, folded up, and a crown sitting on it.

They silently walked up the hall toward it, the rain pounding on the windows. “This room is dedicated to Estiahn, my father. He was their best leader, held with the utmost regard,” she explained. “This was his throne room, but once he went missing they built a new one for Ritiann.”

The room was preserved beautifully, someone cleaning it every week and shining all the gold. “He was very important,” he observed, finally.

“He was,” she nodded. “And I’ve met him as a young girl. The only person that cared for me--and a stranger I thought.” Her brows creased a bit as she stared at the hard crown. “I wonder what happened to him,” she breathed.

Torin looked over to her, holding a weak smile. Kiaran watched him quietly a moment. He was much more strongly built than last she had seen him. He certainly looked more of a man than the young adult he was upon meeting. Rather than wearing his simple tribal clothes, he had on a nice, white shirt with ties on the cuffs and some smooth pants tucked into nice boots.

Facing the throne, Kiaran moved up the stairs to the heavy, velvet curtain that hung behind it on the wall. Pulling it aside, she reveiled a painting of a man. It was obviously her father, his stern orange eyes matching Nurra’s as the dragon sat in his wide hands. His black hair was painted in great detail, his firm lips in a thin line. Torin was surprised. He had always thought she looked like Ritiann, but truth be told, she looked much more like Estiahn.

She released the curtain and moved back to his side, saying, “I regret not having anymore time to spend with you and the others.”

“As do I,” he smiled. They headed back toward the door. “I understand that you will be busy ruling a kingdom.”

“Same for your brother,” she reminded him.

“Yes,” he said lowly.

“Tell him about Lianna,” she suggested. “You might not have an opportune time, so make one.”

“I know.”

They moved toward the rooms and they came to a stop. “I’m grateful that I could see you,” she said.

“And I you,” he bowed to her. It seemed more than just a mockery or a respectful action. There was something much more meaningful in the way he bowed. Finally, he stood again and said, “You’ll always be my closest friend, Kiaran Krutia.”

She tensed slightly, her lips refusing to smile. “And you will always be mine,” she replied softly. “Thank you, Torin Holloway.”

After they said their goodnights, Kiaran moved toward Ritiann’s chambers. Gently, she opened the door and closed it quietly behind her. She wiped the tears that had formed and cleared her throat. “Ritiann?” she asked softly. “Are you awake?”

“I am,” she replied from the sitting area beside her. She moved to her side, sitting in the floor.

Ritiann’s heart sank as she watched her daughter. She sat the book that she was reading in her lap. She gently unbuckled Kiaran’s crown from the chains that were pinned in her hair. Sitting the crown on the table beside her, she asked, “What is the matter, my child?”

“I need to know about my father,” she pressed.

“Oh,” she was taken. “What would you like to know?”

“Whatever it is that I should know,” she retorted, wiping her eyes again. “Did he ever go to Kamoni?”

Ritiann lowered her eyes and exhaled slowly. “Well...once you were born and sent to Kamoni, he continuously sent Nurra to check on you...I believe you had to be near ten years old or so, something…awful…was witnessed in your home.” Kiaran’s heart sank. “He would not tell me of the things he saw with his dragon. He left for your home before I could stop him. It was unlawful already to be checking on you, let alone interfering.”

Kiaran’s eyes grew hot and her heart filled her throat.

“He did not return that night.”

It grew eerily silent, the only interruption from the thunder outside. The dark sky bled into the room from the massive glass windows and doors lining the wall beside them. She blinked her eyes, trying to bat away the tears. Ritiann sat on the edge of her chair, holding both hands to Kiaran’s head and kissing her hair.

“My child,” she sighed, “I am sorry.”

“I saw him, Ritiann,” she finally sighed.

“What?” she gasped as she drew back.

“That night he left...” she couldn’t bare to say what happened. “He nearly killed Nathanial.” Come to think of it, after that night, he walked with a slight limp, nearly unnoticeable. It kept him from being able to run. He was crippled, and that brought a piece of happiness to her. Tears began to fall around her and she said, “He was protecting me.”

It was a relief to know that her father still watched after her, still loved her. How could she have forgotten the words the man spoke that night? It killed her. It was something that should have stuck with her through life. After seeing his paintings, she had never realized who it was. Perhaps they didn’t capture the rage in his eyes quite right.

“I-I have to go,” she stood, her gaze nearly empty. “Thank you.”

She crept down the halls toward her room. It was quiet, though the celebration was moved to the dining hall. Reaching her door, she rested her hand on the handle, feeling the cold metal under her fingertips. It made her miss the hard metal of her sword.

Sighing, she opened the door and moved inside. It was a difficult few days. Though she loved to see her friends--her family...it was near impossible to accept the fact that they were leaving again.

The next afternoon, Kiaran stood at the docks with Cyrin, watching the boat sail off toward Rishana. The sounds of the sea and dock workers filled in their silence. She gazed as Torin's figure blurred and disappeared with the details of the ship. Her frown deepened as her heart ached.

Ruthiana, Cyrin’s black dragon, lied leisurely behind them in the sun. After a long few minutes, Kiaran faced him and said, “I need to go to Kamoni.”

“Why?” he replied quizzically.

She explained what she had learned about Estiahn and ended, saying, “I just need to see it. I need to know if it’s true.” She wanted to go to that house, that room, see if the scar was in the wood.

He looked back to Ruthianna displeased. “There’s a storm that way, Your Majesty, I am not comfortable,” he said.

“Please,” she urged.

“Ruthianna?” She lethargically stood and moved over to them, listening. “Are you alright with this?” She considered, her eyes moving to the horizon. With a shrug, she turned, flicking her tail slightly and lied back down. “Alright,” he sighed heavily. “We’ll go.”