Dragonbound: Birthrights (Book 2)

Kiaran dug through her closet searching for the perfect outfit. Clothes of soft silks, thick wool, and sturdy leather, but none of them were perfect enough. The colors were endless, making it all the more difficult to find the right dress.

Her hands glided over the sleeves as they hung off the hangers in the closet. Finally, she came to a stop at the last dress. Pulling it out, she inspected it. It was deep red with black embroidery. The sleeves were long and thin, with an open neck that fastened together with gold buttons just above the chest. It had a corset that tied in the front with black lace and ended at the waist with a decorated belt.

Pulling on the blouse, she fastened the buttons and adjusted the lace. She, then, found a skirt to pull on with it, the same shades of red and black. Furs sat in her dresser, mostly from mountain lions or snow leopards. She pulled out the silver fur covered in gray spots and slung it across her hips.

Once dressed, she looked in the mirror beside her bed. Something must be done with her hair. It was a mess, the braids and beads hanging wildly. Taking several long strands of hair, she braided them and twisted it into a low bun that hung to the side of her head. She used gold pins to keep her hair in place, some of the pins having little gems on the end to accent her hair. The left side of her head was still cut short in remembrance of her battle.

After fighting with her hair and clothes, she was finally ready to go. Just as she opened the door, she found Cyrin standing with his hand up, ready to knock.

“Oh,” she exhaled quickly, “good morning, Cyrin.”

“Hello,” he lowered his head. “I take it you are ready to go?”

“I am,” she smiled.

She followed him to the caravan of horses and carriages that awaited at the castle gate. The front carriage was the most extravagant, covered in black material but etched with golds and silvers. The four horses attached to it were all black, one of them having a white mane and tail that glowed like white fire. Red fabrics hung with their harnesses and across their faces. Strands of gold chains and colorful beads hung from the ropes, matching the ones in Kiaran’s hair.

Cyrin grinned at her expression as she awed at the carriage. She had only been in the castle, except for her adventures to see Kriettor. Such things as a queen’s caravan was new to her still. He snickered and her attention turned to him. “This, my Lady, is for you to ride to the Vintar Docks,” he said.

“Wow,” she breathed softly, “It is...expensive I assume.”

“I’d imagine,” he nodded. “However, you are the princess, Kiaran.”

“I suppose so,” she agreed nervously. “Shall we go?”

“Absolutely.”

He moved to the small door and opened it for her, bowing shortly as she made her way into the carriage. It was rather fancy inside, the fabrics soft and such a deep red color. She sat down and he began to close the door between them. She raised a hand, a question spreading across her face as she asked, “Where are you going to be?”

“I’ll just be on my horse not too far behind you,” he replied.

“Why don’t you ride with me?” she pressed. It was strange at first, but she and Cyrin grew a close bond, as if they were family.

He exhaled a long sigh before looking over his shoulder. He waved at someone as he climbed in with her, closing the door behind him. He sat across from her and said, “You will not always have me to go with you.”

“I know that,” she huffed. “But if you are here I may as well have you come with me.”

He smiled, his teeth gleaming. She, again, noticed his teeth...the size of his canines. Finally, she asked, “Why are your canines so...prominent?”

“What?” he chuckled, confused by the question.

“They are not normal, so I am curious. It seems...like they are fangs,” she pressed.

Laughing, he said, “Well, I think it is just a strange observation that no one else notices.”

“No,” she shook her head, “it isn’t exaggerated.”

The horses pulled them forward with a light jerk. “I suppose it could have something to do with my ancestors.” He folded his arms across his chest as he continued. “The Drakes, I suppose I have more of their blood in me than some of the Drakelings around here.”

“Do you suppose there are any alive?” Kiaran asked.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “But they are so closely related to the dragons that they share the same Draken language. Perhaps you are the connection needed to find them.”

“Does anyone know where their kingdom used to be?” she asked.

“No. They kept secluded because of their superiority and their uniqueness. I am uncertain if anyone could tell us where they were.”

She sat on his words, thinking of the race of people rumored to have red skin and horns as magnificent as any dragon. They had to be powerful, smart, important just as their dragon-kin.

She smiled. She was a Drakeling. Someone in her past was one of these Drakes. She thought of their glory and relationships with the dragons.

“So, the ships that are arriving this morning are from Rishana. The others don’t come until this evening...I am assuming you are not wanting to meet with the other arrivals?” he grinned slyly.

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing at all,” he shook his head. “I am sure you are excited to see them...Are you ready for your crowning?”

“Ha, of course I am not,” she laughed. “But it will happen regardless.”

“It will,” he agreed.

The ride seemed to last forever, the sun rising and warming the trees and horses as they weaved between them. Avestitia had such a cold climate, the mountains holding in the cold around them. The land was flattening out as they neared a bridge climbing over a narrow, and yet deep, river. In the distance was the ocean. Kiaran tried peaking through the window of her carriage but could see nothing.

“We are close, yes?” she asked.

“We are,” he nodded.

She clutched at the handle of the door, saying, “I just want out of this thing.”

“Kiaran, just--”

She pushed it open and hung out the side, her feet still on the floor. The wind pushed her hair back as she breathed in the fresh air which was filled with salt. Seagulls called loudly as they glided on the strong winds above. She was near the ocean.

She narrowed her eyes, watching the ship pull in. It towered as a black silhouette against the bright sky. She could feel the odd expressions of the men behind, watching the future queen hang out the carriage.

Cyrin pulled her in by the elbow. As he hung out to grab the door, he looked to the men riding their horses. He shrugged a shoulder, allowing his smile to beam. Closing the door, he sat back down. “Kiaran, you can’t be so...impulsive,” he told her. “It is unbecoming.”

“Perhaps for others, but I wasn’t raised as a pampered royal, but as a barbarian,” she reminded him. It was nearly impossible to hide her smile at this point.

She would soon see them again. Her family. They were so much more to her than her mother or Cyrin. The first warm feeling of love was with them. The first time she could genuinely laugh was with them. The only time she felt comfortable with herself was with them.

As the carriage moved between the few wooden buildings, Kiaran gazed out the window. The second the horses came to a stop, she swung open the door and leapt out. Cyrin followed, with a hint of discomfort on his face. She slowly walked up the road. As she passed her horses, her fingers delicately danced down the ribbons and beads attached to them.

Her body stiffened as her shoulders straightened out. Cyrin watched her from a respectful distance behind. Everything about her turned strong as her back grew erect. She was incredibly powerful--Possibly more so than Ritiann. She would make a wonderful queen. He could see it at that very moment. The way the golden sun glowed on her and the blue sky vast above her. She was perfect for Avestitia.

Her heals clicked on the wood as she walked across the dock. The waves hit the shore and the pillars with a quiet roar. The ship was at a stop as people moved in and out of the open gate on the deck of the ship. They carried many boxes off the ship while others helped escort people to land.

Kiaran stood at the bottom of the ramp. A couple of men rolled a keg up to the deck. Her heart flipped; she stood still anxiously. Her expression grew stern as she stared, waiting for familiar faces. She gripped her fingers, the fur wrapped around her hips brushing against her hands.

Cyrin waited at her side, watching the ship with her. People came and went, but she simply wanted to see her friends. Anyone else was unimportant.

Out of the ship walked two familiar men. One massive, and one with graying hair. “Brick,” she smiled, “Walter,” she said loudly as she raised a hand.

They returned the smile as they made their way to her. Brick rested a great hand on her shoulder as he said, “I knew there was something great about you when we met. Back when you kicked that man’s ass for being--well...an ass.” He, then, bowed, Walter with him. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”

She laughed, saying, “It is nice to see you again. I hoped you would come. Please, stand.”

“I am surprised that you are Avestitian...and royalty at that,” Walter said.

Turning to him, she said, “I am as well.”

Her gaze shifted just past them as a group of people walked down the ramp. In the midst of the group stood out a blonde head lined in beads and tattoos. “Torin!” she shouted as she shot a hand into the air.

He paused to look through the crowd, returning the excited wave. He sped down the ramp to her, wrapping his arms around her. She returned the embrace as she laughed, “It has been long, Torin.” She found herself inhaling his scent deeply before they could part.

“Aye, it has,” he replied as he pulled back. She patted his arm playfully, her eyes taking in everything. She didn’t realize how much she missed him until then. And in the year apart, he had changed quite a bit.

Torin hesitated as Cyrin stared at him. Torin bowed shortly. Awkwardly.

Kiaran grew stiff, her brows lowering slightly. “Don’t...don’t do that,” she said softly.

He stood back up and Kiaran’s eyes were drawn to Torin’s arms. Atop the muscle and tanned skin were tattoos. One band on his right arm, and a lace-like tattoo on his left. Next, she saw a red feather hanging from a beautifully beaded necklace on a gold chain. Her heart swelled into her throat as she stared.

“Oh,” he breathed as a hand moved to his left tattoo.

“You have gotten...married,” she said lowly. She met sights with him and he forced a light smile. “Lianna, I presume?” she asked. It was surprisingly difficult to speak. He nodded and she pressed, “That tattoo, is it for her child?”

“It is,” he nodded. “She has become my own once I married her. Tallin. She is healthy and sweet.”

“Well, congratulations, I suppose,” she smiled, though she felt a little weak.

What a shock. Torin was a husband and a father.

“Where is Stella?” she changed the subject.

“She couldn’t leave her week of hunting,” he shrugged. “She has her own responsibilities to take care of now.”

“I see,” she nodded.

The crowds slowed and, still, she could not see Davin. Her eyes slowly moved to Walter. She hoped he came. It was acceptable to send one of his advisers who just happened to be Walter. She stared at him. “Was Davin too busy with his own affairs to come?” she asked.

“Well,” he began cautiously. “Yes. He was, Your Highness. I apologize on his behalf.”

“I understand,” she said in displeasure. Her gaze moved to Torin who gave her a sad smile.

“We’ve brought a few carriages to carry you and the other guests back to Vintar,” Cyrin said.

Kiaran looked to him as he cast a subtle glare to Torin. Her brows lowered as she slowly turned back to her friends. “We will see to it that you are comfortable,” she added.

As everyone climbed into their carriages and things were packed away, Kiaran and Cyrin entered their carriage and they moved on. It was silent between them for a moment. Something was itching at Cyrin and she wanted to know what. He seemed angered and annoyed at Torin’s presence.

“Why are you acting like this?” she finally asked, her voice stern.

“Like what?” he asked.

“You seem disturbed by my friends being here.”

He stared at her for a long while. It was uncomfortable, his gaze. It made her feel like there was some deep, lost thought in his mind, just behind his eyes, but she was unable to see it. “It took a while, but in this past year, you have changed from a scarred woman who was uncertain of who she was to a powerful, confident leader that was opening up to herself.”

“Your point being...?”

“The second your friends got here, I could see you change back into who you once were. You lost yourself again,” he explained. His eyes were hard on her. “I do not like that.”

“They are my family,” she retorted. “Why are you acting like they hurt me?”

“Because they do. It seems that any time they are around, you are back into your shell. Especially when around the Holloway Brothers. You stiffen up and her expression hardens.”

He seemed to be right. They reminded her of the things she went through, but it wasn’t all bad. She had good memories as well...Like the time Torin fell into a river while they were hunting deer for the Zeil. She could remember the kindness and humor from Brick in Cotton Pub. Alana was always so motherly and Stella was like a strange cousin. She remembered leaning on Davin as she healed from the golden dragon’s attack. Those were all good memories.

She turned red as she thought of their kiss and Davin’s uncomfortable gaze as he handed her the red feather as a proposal to always be with one another. Then, she could remember Torin’s hurt expression when she spoke to him about it.

A frown touched her lips as she thought of Torin. How they were so close, how he was so easily discouraged. Her chest burned, making it difficult to breathe.

Cyrin frowned and she looked away. “I am not saying to stay apart from them...” he said lowly.

“What are you implying, then?” she grunted.

“Nothing at all. You asked me what was wrong, and I told you. I expect nothing to be done and it doesn’t have to be, either. They will only be here for a while before having to return home,” he answered.

She nodded, believing what he was saying. There really was nothing to worry about. Soon enough, they’d be back in Rishana living their own lives apart from Avestitia and apart from her. It broke her heart. Perhaps it would have been easier if she had not invited them. Especially Torin. She liked Brick and Walter, but they hadn’t build bonds. Not like she did the others.

Torin quietly sat with Walter and Brick in the carriage as the horses pulled them down the winding road. It was odd, sitting across from two rather important people. And the king just happened to be his brother, yet—what a surprise—he couldn’t make it.

They kept their eyes out the tiny window of the door, though they couldn’t see anything.

“Congratulations on your wedding,” Brick said.

Torin stared at him. “Thank you,” he finally forced himself to say. He had invited Davin to the wedding, but as a king, he was too busy to show up.

“What do you make of the married life?” he smiled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. Torin just watched him, his mouth firmly shut. “You have a child, now, don’t you?”

“It is my wife’s child with her first husband,” he responded.

“Do you like that?”

He nodded his head. “They are my family.”

Brick looked him over, surprised by his deep change. Torin was maturing dramatically and was nearly unrecognizable. “You have changed a lot,” he said. “I can hardly recognize you as the little archer boy from the training grounds.”

“I know,” he replied.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” he lost his smile. Walter simply watched their exchange in almost a curious manner.

“A lot is being dug up by coming back here,” Torin said. "And I find it discomforting that my brother didn't come."

“The entire country of Rishana is important to your brother,” Walter said, moving his eyes out the little window. “He has to take care of everyone, not just his little brother or his parents or friends. He realizes he’s lost the most important people to him, but he has a higher place now. He sends his regards and he asks for your forgiveness.”

Torin simply looked back outside, listening to the wheels and horses’ hooves clatter on the road. His heart felt heavy, but he couldn't quite place exactly why. It seemed there were too many reasons.