Dead Moons Rising: First in the Honest Scrolls series

by Jack Whitney

  “Where are your day dresses?”

  She frowned at his question, but pointed to the wardrobe in the corner nonetheless. He stretched over to it and pulled one of the cotton black ones from the front. It was tossed at her, and he gave her an upwards nod.

  “What do you say to breakfast?” he asked. “You completely famished me last night.”

  Her chest swelled at the pure grin on his face, and she shoved the dress over her head and took his outstretched hands. He pulled her off the bed and flush against him, her hands threading into his at their sides. She couldn’t fight her smile against his lips as he bent his head low to hers, hair tickling her shoulders, and then he pressed his mouth lightly against her own.

  It was brief, and her heart fluttered at the taste of him, muscles sinking into the warmth of his embrace. When they parted, she took a step back and tugged on his hands, still smiling as her chest bled of the love filling her.

  “Come on,” she urged him. She grabbed a scarf from the chair it was thrown on, and then she led him out of her room towards the kitchens.

  It was the noise of laughter that made Aydra and Draven pause at the door. Aydra recognized her own brother and sister, but the sight of the smile that lit up Draven’s eyes upon hearing a third voice made Aydra want to hug him.

  “Is that who I think it is?” she asked him.

  He chuckled under his breath, hair falling over his eyes as he glanced at the floor and then back to her. “Leave her alone for a day with those two and they’re suddenly inseparable.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” she mocked.

  He smiled at the door, inhaling a deep breath, and then he pulled her against him snugly, kissing her temple as he swallowed hard. “Yeah, it is,” he breathed.

  The smell of the breakfast pastries hit them as they opened up the door. Dorian, Nyssa, and Balandria were already seated at the small table they liked to share, a splay of breakfast treats, meats, and cheeses out on the top.

  Nyssa was throwing part of her bread at Dorian’s face when they entered.

  “—shut up,” Nyssa was laughing. “I did not say that.”

  “You definitely did,” Balandria mocked from the other side of the table.

  Nyssa’s mouth dropped, and Balandria dodged the food that was thrown towards her. Balandria was mid-laughter when her eyes did a double-take, and the sight of her king coming into the room must have startled her, for she immediately jumped to her feet.

  “My King,” Balandria breathed.

  “Sister!” Dorian announced loudly, his hands in the air.

  “Drae! Sit here,” Nyssa moved over, patting the seat beside her.

  Draven huffed amusedly under his breath and went over to Balandria. What he said, Aydra didn’t hear. Aydra shook her head at her brother and then pressed her hands into Nyssa’s shoulders.

  “Did you leave us any food?” she asked them.

  “Barely,” Nyssa replied. “Dorian thinks he’s a starving Ulfram.”

  Dorian grinned widely at the pair, twirling the fork in his hand. “Growing men need sustenance,” he said with a wink.

  “Grown men also need sustenance,” Draven said, sitting down at the end of the bench Nyssa sat on. Balandria sat back down in her seat beside Dorian, and Aydra sat between Nyssa and Draven across from Balandria. Dorian shoved a plate of food toward the end of the table at them.

  “Try those,” he said, pointing to the wide pocket pastries. “One of my own recipes.”

  “You wish it was your recipe,” Nyssa mocked. “You’ve never cooked a thing in your life.”

  Her youngers continued to banter together as Aydra and Draven filled their plates. Aydra couldn’t stop stealing glances from him, feeling like a giggling teenager when she would meet his smiling, yet domineering, gaze.

  “So, tell us, Balandria,” Aydra finally began once she’d forced her eyes from his, “what kind of trouble did my youngers get you into yesterday?”

  “Ah,” Balandria picked at the food in front of her, smiling at her plate, “define trouble,” she replied with a raised brow.

  Aydra almost laughed. “Did they actually show you some of the castle and their duties or did they skip those off for obstacle practice?”

  “Definitely obstacle practice,” Balandria replied.

  “Sounds like skipping duties runs in the family,” Draven muttered from behind his tea.

  “It was a perfect day for it,” Dorian affirmed. “Rain. Lightning. Nyssa cheated.”

  “I did not cheat,” Nyssa argued.

  “Wait—” Aydra’s narrowed gaze turned towards her sister. “You let Balandria see you practice and you won’t allow me to go with you?”

  Nyssa’s cheeks reddened just slightly. “I’m not ready,” she insisted, reaching for the fruit.

  “She’s ready,” Balandria and Dorian said at the same time.

  Aydra stared between the pair, seeing the raised brows and affirming stares on their faces. “Okay, the Venari Second says you’re ready. That isn’t nothing.”

  “Bala spent too much time with Dorian yesterday,” Nyssa bantered. “She’s picked up his exaggerating already.”

  Draven snorted.

  Balandria’s brows elevated, and she tapped her cup on the table as she turned her head slightly in her king’s direction. “Something you’d like to add, my King?” she asked him.

  Draven lifted his cup to his lips, hiding his smirk behind it. Incomprehensible words muttered from his mouth, but they could understand none.

  Aydra reached over and tipped the cup towards his face.

  Draven jumped, startled at the liquid suddenly on his skin and falling down the front of his shirt. Stifled laughter filled her ears as she watched him fumble, grabbing at the table and hitting the cup on the wood with a thud. Balandria’s eyes were wide, her hand slapped over her mouth to conceal the laughter on her features.

  Aydra’s eyes met Draven’s. She grabbed a napkin off the table and began mockingly wiping his face of the tea. “You have something on your face,” she bantered.

  The dare in his gaze made her chest tighten.

  He grabbed at her legs under the table and pinched her thighs. A yip emitted from her lips, followed by laughter she didn’t know she contained in her core, and his fingers tickled at her flesh. She laughed, burying her head against his chest, the feeling of his tickling fingers grabbing at her and making her cheeks redden, her chest swell, and her muscles jump. She grabbed his hands and pushed them away as she felt his smile against her cheek. And after a moment, she willed her heart to stop skipping, and she straightened up beside him as he reached for a pastry on the tray.

  Dorian and Nyssa were staring at her when she moved her hair out of her face. She sighed a strangled breath and took a long swig of her tea, eyes darting between her youngers’ mesmerized facades as she poorly attempted to rid herself of the scarlet on her cheeks.

  “I didn’t know you could laugh like that,” Dorian mused.

  “Neither did I,” Nyssa agreed.

  She felt Draven’s light touch on the small of her back, the feeling of it making her eyes flutter with her fast beating heart, the rise of the hair on her flesh and up her spine, and she couldn’t help the unfamiliar heat pulsing up her neck to her cheeks. He was chewing on the pastry in his hand when she turned to look at him again, his right elbow propped up on the table, hair swept over the right side of him. Her lungs swelled, aching with the amorous restlessness of his gaze in her bones, and as she smiled sideways at him, he gave her a quick wink.

  She turned back to her siblings, and her jaw tightened at the cheeky grins on their faces. She threw a piece of fruit at Dorian’s face and muttered, “Shut up and eat your food,” to the pair.

  Aydra and Draven listened quietly to the three speak animatedly of their wins and Nyssa’s supposed cheating from the day before. After a while, Aydra found herself in quiet conversation with Draven, picking at her food almost more than eating it as she couldn’t stop chuck
ling under her breath. She’d asked about the Blackhands, who were due to arrive the next morning, and what she should expect from them, as well as when Nadir would be coming.

  “Who is Nadir?” Nyssa asked, having heard their conversation.

  “Someone you’re not to concern yourself with,” Aydra answered quickly.

  “Good luck with that,” Balandria muttered under her breath.

  Aydra met the Venari Second’s eyes, and Balandria looked as though she might smile or mock Aydra. Draven cleared his throat and shifted on the bench.

  “What? She’s his type, isn’t she?” Balandria argued to Draven.

  Draven rubbed his neck and avoided Aydra’s eyes. “That she is,” he mumbled.

  “What does that mean?” Aydra asked.

  “Fiery. Petite. Beautiful. Determined.” Balandria paused and then raised a brow at Aydra. “Nadir is a great man. What is your concern?”

  “I think that is her concern,” Draven said.

  “I am nineteen,” Nyssa chimed in. “I think I can choose the right sort of man for myself, thank you all.”

  Balandria paused, and then she took a long drink of her tea as she met Aydra’s ‘I told you so’ gaze.

  “Right. You should hide her,” Balandria finally agreed.

  Aydra’s brows raised knowingly at Balandria, and she picked up another piece of fruit to eat.

  The food quickly vanished before them as they continued to speak of the Honest, of the Blackhand friends of Draven and Balandria’s that would be arriving the following morning. The pair had stories to tell of their own trips to the mountains, of meeting the Blackhands on their yearly graduation journeys into the Forest of Darkness to bring back a Noctuan. Draven had tried to cease the tradition years earlier, but had almost started a war between the races in trying. Draven had been forced to table the discussion for fear of losing his own realm.

  When the food was gone, Aydra sighed into Draven’s chest, wanting to stay in their bubble of peace and freedom a bit longer rather than start the day she wasn’t looking forward to. His lips pressed to her temple, and she hugged his arms as they wrapped around her. He spoke of whispers in her ear so only she could hear, his hand squeezing her waist, the other grazing her lower abdomen. He told her how he would splay her on the table they sat at before starting the day, of how his tongue would have her moaning so loudly the servants would think her being attacked, and he promised them a show. Her eyes fluttered at his words, and she could feel him firming behind her. "Do you think you two could not fuck at the table while we're present?" Dorian asked them after a few moments. The pair snapped out of their bubble, both chuckling under their breath as they came back into reality. “What are your plans for today?” Aydra chose to ask the others. “Choosing foods for banquet tomorrow,” Dorian answered. He paused and stared at the empty plates on the table. “I should have probably stopped eating earlier.”

  “That would have been the smart thing,” Nyssa mocked.

  “We need to go find you a dress for banquet tomorrow,” Draven told Balandria.

  “You’re not putting Balandria in a dress,” Aydra argued. “She’ll cut your throat.”

  Balandria raised her glass to Aydra. “I knew I liked her,” she said to Draven.

  Draven’s eyes narrowed down at Aydra. “What do you suggest instead?” he asked.

  “I have something that would suit her better,” she replied. “You’ll just need to take it to my seamstress, Maye, to have it taken in, make it her own.” Her eyes flickered to Nyssa. “Can you take them? Make sure Maye doesn’t have any attitude for helping Venari?”

  Nyssa nodded. “I can do that.”

  “What will you do today?” Dorian asked Aydra as he started to stand.

  Aydra paused a moment, eyes flickering to her plate. “Ah… I have been summoned to help Rhaif with choosing decorations for the celebration.”

  Dorian’s brows raised at her across the table, apparent worry stretching over his features. “Is Lex going with you?” he asked.

  “She is,” Aydra affirmed. “Speaking of which, I should really find her.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  “I THINK YOU’RE being ridiculous,” Aydra argued with Rhaif hours later as they walked through the flower shops. “It’s a celebration. Not a wedding.”

  “A wedding would stress me less,” Rhaif mumbled as he picked up another flower. “What about these?” he asked, holding up a long stem with a small black flower on the end.

  She did a double-take at the flower he was twirling in his hand. “Where has that been all my life?” she muttered as she took it from his fingers.

  “Figures,” he said under his breath.

  She pressed the black flower to her nose and inhaled the scent of it, allowing it to fill her insides. “Figures what?” she dared ask, eyes flickering to Lex who was standing near.

  “That you would be attracted to a noir flower.”

  “Matches my core,” she muttered. She paused a moment and looked him over as he picked another flower from the next cart. “I honestly don’t think these people will care about whether the decorations of the Great Hall are blue, black, or pink. The only thing the Blackhands will care for is the food.”

  “Which is why I’ve Dorian handling that,” Rhaif replied.

  Aydra felt a smile rise on her lips, and she almost laughed. “Yes, he is the expert.”

  The first smile she’d seen on Rhaif’s face in months met her own, and for a moment, she was reminded of the brother she’d once known.

  The flash of a memory of them walking down that same street at the age of seventeen filled her mind. She could hear his laugh, feel his arm wrapped into hers. He’d bought her flowers and placed them in her hair that day.

  But the memory of how that afternoon had ended made her heart constrict.

  “I promise, it’s the last time,” he had sworn.

  “You said that last month,” she had whispered.

  “Drae, please.” His hand wrapped around her cheek, thumb stroking her lips. “You know I love you.” His lips kissed her hands, and her heart fell for the promise he whispered.

  Aydra nearly vomited in the street as the angst of the memory making her stomach knot. The flash of his ashen face from two days before entered her mind, and she forced herself to straighten.

  Rhaif turned away from her then and pushed his hands behind his back, and Aydra was glad she had not allowed such a memory to rest in her features.

  “What about these?” he asked with an upwards nod towards a bouquet of burgundy flowers.

  Aydra sighed as she paid for the stem in her hand, and then she turned to see the flowers he was looking at. “Whatever you want, Rhaif,” she said, feeling sadness fill her core. “I’m sure it will be beautiful whatever you choose.”

  The ache stayed in her stomach throughout the day. Each time he would try and get her to speak with him normally, she found herself unable, and when night came, she did not join he and her siblings at supper.

  She bid Lex goodnight, urging her to look after Nyssa the rest of the night instead of herself, and she then retired to the silence of her bedroom. She had not seen Draven or Balandria since the morning, not even a glimpse of them in the hall.

  Being around Rhaif for so long that day and having to act as though they were as they’d always been in front of people had been overwhelming on her core. She’d kept her facade, pushed her pain to the back of her mind, forced herself to smile in front of he and their people.

  So when the water of her bath wrapped around her that night, her heart broke, and she wept into the warmth of it.

  Her core emptied to a numbing she’d never wanted to feel again, and soon she fell asleep in the water.

  The dreams that filled her were of her own past.

  The first being the day after Dorian and Nyssa were marked, together—two months before Rhaif had been given his own marking and fire.

  “She doesn’t mean it,” Aydra managed as they stood atop
the cliff they liked to go to.

  Rhaif’s brows narrowed. “Doesn’t she?”

  The bow sagged in her extended arms, and she stared sideways at him. “Rhaif—”

  “Drae, she marked our youngers before me,” he cut her off. “Both of them. Together.”

  She could see the frustration in his face, his tense arms as he tugged at his hair, pacing back and forth at the edge of the cliff. She began to reach for him, but he jerked away from her, his hands in the air.

  “You don’t understand,” he argued. “You’ve been her favorite since we were children. You’ve not had to work as hard as I, just to in turn be completely ignored. You don’t know what it is like to be humiliated in front of your own kingdom. To watch as your eight-year-old brother and sister are given a surname and powers before you are. Do you know what Vasilis said to me this morning?”

  Aydra swallowed hard, her heart bleeding for him. “I was there,” she managed.

  Rhaif’s hands ran through his hair, and he stopped abruptly, pausing at the edge of the cliff. Aydra sighed and sat the bow on the ground. She stepped up behind him and placed a soft hand on his shoulder. “Rhaif—”

  —He seized her neck in his hand.

  She struggled, slapping his taut arm beneath her hands, bewildered by the sudden turn in his attitude. “Rhaif, I can’t breathe—”

  The darkness in his wide eyes poured through her.

  “What is it you have that I do not?” he said in a lower voice than she’d ever heard of him, his head tilting just sideways. “You’re not special. Simply because you beat the Venari child in combat, you’re somehow more worthy of her love than I?”

  Her breath wouldn’t catch. She dug her fingers into his arm. “Rhaif, please—”

  But her feet were lifted off the ground.

  “Look at you—”

  Her eyes began to droop.

  “—No more indestructible than any other—”

  She struggled for breath, her feet kicking into the open air.

  “—a whore and a pet—”

  Her raven screeched over her head.

  “—I could snap your neck with one swift move—”