Dragonbound: Birthrights (Book 2)

Kiaran stood in the small room with Ritiann and Cyrin as a stout man sat a rolled up cloth on the table. He wore nice clothing, but still smelled of hot metal and burnt shavings. His thick beard and long hair were combed nicely in the presence of royalty.

The cloth was thick and covered with dark leather. He unrolled it across the table and unfolded it. Sitting atop the soft silk within were twenty broaches near the size of large coins. They each were signets, seals for approval.

They were made of silver, etched as a dragon wrapped around itself, holding the Krutia’s crest in its mouth. In one talon was a hammer, the other a pickax. It was the Vintar seal, but the two tools were to represent miners.

Three weeks had passed since Kiaran’s friends had parted. They had probably just settled in their homes once more. Kiaran, however, went straight to work, sending soldiers to Trindal to investigate the missing merchants. Then, the blacksmith had made their seals for Brinn.

“This will do,” Ritiann said. “Thank you, Dullar,” she nodded. He bowed and exited the room. “You should take these to Grindall so he may distribute these seals to his miners,” she said. The fur lining her neck brushed along her narrow cheeks, her striking blue eyes moving to them. She didn’t seem as sick as she had been lately, looking rather vibrant.

Rathen sat at her side, watching Kiaran with his always stoic eyes. Nurra chirped as he stood on the edge of the table, looking between the women. He often spent his time with Ritiann, likely because he missed Estiahn.

Kiaran nodded as she folded the fabric and rolled it back up. Taking the thin straps of leather, she buckled it shut and tucked it under her arm.

“You should be leaving soon, I have a carriage outside waiting for you,” Cyrin said.

“I wish you luck, my daughter,” she said as she walked around the table to them.

“You will need it,” Cyrin laughed. “He is a hard one to handle.”

“You are to join her,” Ritiann informed him.

His expression dropped and he replied, “I...was unaware.”

“I know,” she shrugged with a sly grin.

She placed a hand on each of their shoulders and pushed them toward the door. They were pressed tightly against each other as they moved through the doorway. Kiaran looked over her shoulder at her mother and then to Cyrin, who also appeared rather confused.

With one last thrust, she pushed them into the hallway. The two stumbled forward, facing her with strange expressions. Nurra climbed up Ritiann’s arm, perching on her shoulder. She rested her hands on her hips as her aging eyes looked over the youngsters.

“Have a nice trip, children,” she said as she walked away. “I expect you to return in two weeks. Be sure to not work yourselves too hard.”

Kiaran looked to Cyrin, asking, “Why is she so...odd today?”

“That is a grand question,” he stared at Ritiann as she walked down the hall. He straightened back up and squared off his shoulders once more. “I had your rations packed for the trip...but I suppose I should add some more for myself.” They moved down the hall and he continued, “We have quite a ways to travel, and by horse, so we should hurry.”

It was unsafe to take the dragons too far from home out of fear that someone might kill or steal them. Kiaran understood but was irritated by it. They could arrive there within hours if by flight.

“What can you tell me about King Grindall, anyhow?” she asked.

“Only that he is an arrogant, over-masculine annoyance who has more physique than a mind,” he grunted.

They reached the kitchen where they packed some food for the trip. Grinning, Kiaran said, “It sounds as though you are jealous.”

“Why?” he huffed, “I am comfortable with my appearance and intellect.”

She shook her head, unable to conceal her grin. “It was a joke, Cyrin.”

“I assumed as much,” he closed the bag and slung it over a shoulder, adding, “We should be off, now.”

“We shall,” she nodded as they moved on.

Cyrin and the driver attached the carriage to the two horses. Kiaran watched them, their fingers tying the straps on. The cool breeze touched her skin, pushing her hair into view. For a moment, it seemed that things might turn out right. It had been over a year and all was well.

“Are you ready?” Cyrin’s voice cut through the air.

She looked over to him quickly, nodding her head. The carriage stood tall and wide, fit for two people. She climbed inside, Cyrin just behind her. The seats were cushioned rather nicely, the little windows open, allowing a nice breeze to flow through. Her hands moved to her belt, touching the hilt of her sword for comfort. Four guards mounted their horses, two ahead and two behind.

She stared out the window as the horses jerked them forward. Cyrin was sitting just across from her, observing the way she watched the world move outside the window. She grew uncomfortable under his gaze, growing stiff and aware of everything she was doing.

“How long will the trip be?”

“A week,” he replied.

Her eyes shot to him and she asked, “One week there and back?”

“One week one way,” he said solemnly.

“This is ridiculous,” she mumbled as she rested her chin in her hand.

The first three nights went smoothly, but Kiaran’s patience was wearing thin. She grew anxious and restless, staring outside, sitting on the very edge of her seat. As the horses were still pulling them ahead, she stood.

“What are you doing?” Cyrin asked.

She opened the door, holding onto the frame as she leaned out the side, looking forward to the driver. The driver glanced back to her, after a short moment, he looked again in shock. “Your Highness, what are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting some fresh air is all,” she replied loudly over the clattering of the wheels. He made the horses stop and she stepped out of the carriage. She climbed onto the seat with the driver, saying, “I needed out of there, Cyrin may drive me mad with his silence.”

“I understand,” the man laughed. “Would you care to hear some stories, then? To ease the silence, that is.”

“I suppose so,” she nodded.

She had always enjoyed such things. They took her away from her life into something far more interesting. He proceeded to tell several different stories until it grew dark. His favorite, it seemed, would be tales of old magic in the neighboring countries. It was nice to hear stories and to sit comfortably as the sun warmed her from above. It was serene.

Evening crept in and it was time to set up camp. The man had stopped the horses and unattached the carriage from them. Cyrin walked to her as she leapt from her seat. “I believe you may enjoy a walk through these woods,” he suggested.

“Oh? Why is that?” she asked.

He smiled and she eyed him closely. “I will show you,” he answered.

She walked with him between the trees, the branches hanging low around them. She ducked under a long branch, holding her hand to it as she stood back up. Her eyes met with Cyrin’s and she asked, "What?"

"Nothing. Come on," he hurried her.

Standing beside him, she narrowed her eyes at him. What was going through that man’s head?

He turned away, facing his attention to the forest around them. The moon shined through the branches although the sun was still barely up in the west. The leaves waved softly in the wind, rustling around them.

Kiaran followed his gaze across the evergreens and a few maples. A small number of creatures stalked the branches, softly trilling. A dragon perched near her, watching her every move with its golden eyes. It had a beak-like nose, white feathers covering it with small, black specks all over. It stretched its wings, fluffing out its feathers on its chest. Its tail consisted of very long feathers hanging down low, flowing softly almost like hair.

Her lips curled into a smile as she reached a hand toward the creature. It cawed loudly and shot away, flying out of sight. Kiaran looked above, finding a dragon on nearly every branch, eyeing them. She glanced to Cyrin who held his arms across his back, folded over each other. He stared at the creatures, smiling widely. The silver light shined brilliantly on his slicked back hair.

“These dragons are not familiar with humans at all,” he spoke softly. “They are curious...”

He looked to her and she realized she was staring. His smile faded somewhat as his purple gaze locked with her’s. She ran her hand over her braids, her hair soft and cool to the touch. She turned away, snickering under her breath.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. The thought of them being romantic was absurd to her. So many people believed they were lovers. “This was beautiful. Thank you for showing me.” Her voice carried to the dragons and they dispersed. The sound of beating wings and clicking of their beaks filled the area as they darted away. A few feathers fell around them, looking almost like snow.

Finally, they had reached Kinvar, the capital of Brinn, where Grindall awaited them. The buildings were less extravagant than her own, but had their own beauty about them. They stood short and wide, made of a very bright white stone.

Kiaran grew anxious, sitting on the edge of her seat. Her eyes darted between the people and the buildings just outside her window. The horses came to a stop just before the palace’s front doors. It still was baffling. Not so long ago, Kiaran was a barbarian. A murderer. A warrior. Now, she was a crown princess. And she was in another country, fulfilling one of her many duties.

Cyrin exited first, reaching a hand out to her. His hand remained unnoticed as she darted out of the carriage, her eyes wide with wonder. She walked past him, admiring the buildings that were trimmed in green and windows that were lined with potted flowers.

The driver whipped the reigns, the horses pulling forward, disappearing around a corner. The Drakeling guards moved to the gates of the castle just before them. They stood alert, but would not enter with them. It proved distrustful and rude to bring them within the walls. Thus, Kiaran left her sword with them to prove her trust and loyalty to King Grindall.

The palace was tall and wide with narrow windows standing several feet high. Green and silver flags hung from the building, flowing softly in the wind. It was a large castle, but also somewhat flat and simple. But the stone it was made from was excellent.

Cyrin walked forward, Kiaran by his side as they climbed the many stairs. Finally, reaching the top, they entered the large doors into the palace of whites and greens. It was magnificent, to say the least. Her eyes continued to wonder over the guards and the decor. The marble floor reflected the room, the stairs looking glorious as they wrapped around the walls to the second floor which was open to their view from below.

“This way, Your Highness,” Cyrin said, grasping her attention.

She followed him up a set of ivory stairs to the side, a soft, green carpet flowing over them. Her mind traced back to the trail of blood leading to Murdock’s throne room. She could feel the hot blood soaking her body, her clothing. Inhaling heavily, she blinked, focusing her sights on Cyrin just ahead of her.

What would the encounter with this king entail?