Wings of Exile

by JD Monroe

  The manicured courtyard was enclosed on all sides. Stone benches with asymmetrical curved seats and backs were scattered throughout the area.

  As they had made the approach from the road yesterday, the compound looked like the weird fever-dream of an architect determined to combine a European castle with a beach resort plopped in the middle of a national forest. All cut from cool gray stone, the roof and windows were adorned with detailed carvings of vines and leaves.

  And because a castle in the forest wasn’t strange enough, the unmistakable silhouette of a dragon circled overhead, its wingspan casting a dark shadow against a fluffy white cloud.

  While Mom was sick, especially when the doctors reported that things had taken a turn for the worse at the end, she’d felt a curious detachment instead of despair. What they were saying was impossible, and reality would catch up eventually. Everything would be fine.

  She felt the same now.

  This could not be real. It didn’t matter that she was sitting here, with sun-warmed stone under her butt, inhaling the earthy scent of forest and incense. It didn’t matter that she had blood on her jeans that probably belonged to Erevan. Maybe it was a dream, or she’d fallen into a coma. It didn’t particularly matter how she’d found herself in this upside-down realm.

  And yet, dashing her delusions, something large and warm landed on the bench next to her. She looked up to find Erevan sitting there with a white sheet tied in a messy knot around his waist. “Seriously?” he said, breathing hard. The puncture wounds on his shoulder and side were closed, surrounded in nasty green and purple bruises. The injuries looked as if they were a week old, despite having been inflicted just yesterday.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you. And you stormed off.”

  Well, it was hard to have a proper storm-off when you were in the isolated castle-compound of a secretive dragon race in the mountains of North Carolina. And he had the nerve to sound indignant about it. “When did I first call you?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Two days ago. Why?”

  “Did you know when you first met me?”

  “Know what?” She fixed a sharp glare on him. He grimaced. “I wasn’t sure at first. When I couldn’t compel you, I figured there was a slight chance it was me. Maybe being around Thea had made you resistant somehow. And truth be told, I’m not that good at it. Never have been.”

  “But you were certain before she let it slip.”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “Silvi noticed as soon as she met you. Ruana did, too.”

  “And none of you told me.” He started to speak, but she interrupted. “Then Thea had to have known.”

  “Probably.”

  “So why wouldn’t she tell me?”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure she had her reasons.”

  “And what were yours?”

  “It was obvious you didn’t know yet,” he said. “Or you wouldn’t have been so freaked out by the dragon in your house. My job is to find Thea, not guide you on a journey of self-discovery.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Do you have to make an effort to sound like a jerk, or does it come with the scales?”

  He scowled. “Are your feelings about this more important than finding your friend?” She recoiled. “I would have been happy to tell you once we figured out what happened to Thea. I didn’t, because I didn’t want to deal with this.”

  Fiery anger burst to life in her belly at his flippant response. Maybe she really was part dragon. “Oh, this? This, as in me being the slightest bit shocked to find out I’m half fucking dragon? I’m so sorry to make your life difficult with an emotion or two. I am half-human, after all.”

  “Lower your voice. You don’t have to make a scene.”

  She leaned forward, into the pulsing, warm aura around him. “This is a big deal. Am I going to start growing scales or breathing fire?”

  “Don’t be silly,” he scoffed.

  Tears stung her eyes, but she clenched her jaw and held her breath. She refused to melt down in front of Erevan. She’d been so concerned for him, and now she wanted to punch him in his stupid, beautiful face. “I’m not being silly. Can you put yourself in my place for five seconds, and then quit being such an asshole?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Hesitant at first, he rested his hand on hers, dwarfing it against the warm stone. Despite her frustration with him, his touch was soothing. “You’re not going to grow scales,” he said finally. “We’d have to look at your family history to figure out what kind of hybrid you are. Silvi called you sul’kadi, which means your father was a dragon. If that’s the case, you may have some elemental power, but no dragon form.”

  “How…I mean…how did this happen?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Same way any babies are made.” A faint smile pulled at his lip. “When a mother and father—"

  “I didn’t mean that,” she said, bumping his leg with hers. He smiled, breaking the tension. “How did I go this long without finding out?”

  “If no one told you…” he shrugged. “Your abilities would have to be trained. They wouldn’t manifest on their own. We have people here who know all about it. If you want to meet with someone and ask questions, I’ll get you connected.”

  She nodded. “Probably a good idea. After we find Thea.”

  “After that,” he nodded. He hesitated, then patted her hand. The touch sent a shiver up her arm. It was the visceral pleasure of running her fingers through warm sand. “I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  “Before. You were…and I was…” He sighed heavily.

  “Being a bit of a prick?”

  He laughed aloud. “Yes. I was being a prick. And no, it doesn’t come with the scales. That’s all me.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “What now?”

  “I want to talk to Ruana and see what they found out there.” He scowled. “I want to get my hands on Beale and choke the answers out of him.” He glanced down at the sheet and winced. “But I need a shower first.”

  It had been weeks since Erevan set foot in Skyward Rest. Like most of the Skywatch, he lived in the city for convenience. But as an employee of the queen, he was entitled to a room in the Obsidian Wing, a barracks for all the queen’s staff.

  Room was a generous title. Packed in tight with hundreds of rooms in the stone building, his quarters more closely resembled an oversized closet. Regardless, it was a place to shower and lay his head down, which was all he needed.

  To his surprise, the door to his quarters stood ajar. With his senses on high alert, he put one arm out to block Natalie from entering. Surely no one was trying to attack them within the queen’s house. Erevan peeked around the door.

  Sohan Shadowbane paced in the tiny chamber, his pronounced limp tracing an asymmetrical path. Though the older man had lived in Ascavar and now Skyward Rest, Erevan rarely saw him in traditional clothing. He wore dark jeans and a black shirt that revealed his tattoos. From the base of his jaw to his waist was covered in the intricate tattoos of the Arik’tazhan, an elite caste of warriors from Ascavar. Only thin slivers of golden skin peeked through the whorls and runes on his wiry arms. Nearly three hundred years old, Sohan had been here when the first stones of Skyward Rest were placed.

  “Sohan?” Erevan said as he approached.

  The older man turned and greeted Erevan with a scowl. He approached, leaning heavily on a smooth-carved black cane. With his free hand, he grabbed Erevan’s chin and tilted it upward. Erevan tried to pull away from the unexpected touch, but Sohan gripped his jaw with iron strength. The man was a shadow of what he once was, but he was still ten times the warrior Erevan was. Then he leaned in, his nose close to Erevan’s ear as if he wanted to kiss him. Stubble scratched Erevan’s cheek. Sohan inhaled deeply.

  “What the hell,” Erevan protested.

  “I fucking knew it. I told her fifty years ago.” The older man released his face.

 
“What?”

  “You smell like them.”

  “Like who? What are you on about?”

  The older man leaned to look past him, as if he had just noticed Natalie’s presence. He sniffed the air and looked her over. “Who’s the hybrid? Who are you?”

  Natalie shook her head, laughing to herself. “I wish I’d met you first.”

  “This is Sohan,” Erevan said. “Sohan, this is Natalie.”

  Sohan ignored the pleasantries, not even acknowledging Natalie after the flimsy introduction. “I wanted to see you before I went to the infirmary. I wanted to be sure.”

  “Sure of what?” Natalie said.

  “Raspolin,” Sohan said.

  “You can’t be…” Erevan wanted to scoff, but Sohan’s silver eyes were wide and serious. There was a cool calm to his voice. He wasn’t kidding. “That’s impossible.”

  But it wasn’t. Erevan had already suspected blood magic, and that was the domain of the Raspolin. Still, it was one thing to suspect in the fearful silence of his thoughts and another to hear it spoken into reality.

  “What does that mean?” Natalie asked.

  Sohan gestured into the room, as if it was his and he was inviting them in instead of being an intruder. Erevan didn’t press the issue, instead closing the door after he and Natalie were inside. Sohan sat gingerly on the bed. A faint wince pulled at his right eye as he crossed his legs. He was taciturn about the final battle that left him nearly dead and unable to transform. “His dragon is dead,” people said, at least when there was no chance he could hear them. Sohan trained as hard as his protégés to stay fit, but his rugged face was etched with relentless, bone-deep pain. Erevan was smart enough not to point it out. Ever.

  “How much of your history do you know?” Sohan asked her.

  “She didn’t know she was a hybrid,” Erevan said. Sohan started to speak, but he interrupted. “I know. Discussion for later.”

  “Huh,” Sohan mused, raising his eyebrows. He ran one hand through his short silver hair. “Evil. The enemy of our kind. They want to wipe us out.”

  “Wanted,” Erevan said. “You killed them all, remember?”

  Sohan scowled. “I never said that,” he replied. “Our queen put it that way to make herself look good. I knew we got the leaders. First in Ascavar, and then here.” He waved to Natalie. “I’ll leave it to pretty boy here to give you a history lesson when time isn’t scarce. Long story short, we’re not exactly from here. We had ourselves a great big war with the Raspolin. Bunch of evil assholes who started themselves a genocide. They killed our high empress.” His face darkened. “They slaughtered our kind. Didn’t care if they were grown adults or tiny babes. Killed them all with cursed weapons and blood magic. They shattered our land. We eventually turned the tide and hunted them down. Across worlds, for some of us. We killed the leaders, burned every scrap of their work we found, but there was no way to be certain that there were no survivors. It would only take a handful of them to begin to rebuild.”

  “Like a tumor.” Natalie rested her chin on her hand. “It only takes a few diseased cells to infect the body all over again. Sometimes worse than before.”

  Sohan nodded. “Smart girl.”

  “We would know,” Erevan said. He paused. “Wouldn’t we?”

  “Before the Great War, they amassed an army without us noticing, and then they killed Empress Rezharani right in front of us at her own festival. They know how to play a long, costly game. If even a handful splintered away back then…” He shrugged. “We kept looking decades after they were officially gone, and never found anything. Doesn’t mean it’s over.”

  Erevan shook his head. “Let’s take a step back. Why are you so convinced it’s them?”

  “I smell their magic on you,” he said. “Blood magic. The Crimson Path, as they called it.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s them,” Erevan replied. “Someone could be using their books, their spells.”

  Sohan looked at him incredulously. “That’s just as bad. Someone using Raspolin magic is Raspolin as far as I’m concerned.” He took out his phone and swiped through it, holding out an image of one of the glowing glass bottles Erevan had seen. “One of Ruana’s men sent me this. I know what this is. Do you?”

  “It’s blood magic,” Erevan said.

  “You say blood magic, but it doesn’t mean anything to you. All of their work is based on this substance. They call it elixir. It’s the life force of a dragon,” Sohan said. “Or, to be accurate, a piece of it. They say if you know what you’re doing, you can get at least three of those out of one full-grown dragon. This is what they were doing to those poor bastards they had strung up in that basement.”

  “Oh my God,” Natalie murmured. Sohan stared at her. “They had whole cabinets of them. A hundred at least.”

  Sohan let out a string of curses. Erevan had grown up speaking Kadirai and hadn’t even heard some of the words he used, but he had no doubt at the rage behind them. Even Natalie’s eyes widened in shock as Sohan squeezed his phone.

  “Easy,” she said, leaning across the narrow space.

  Erevan almost reached out to stop her, for fear Sohan might manage to bite her hand off even with his human jaws. But the older man stopped, his dark eyebrows arched in curiosity. No one told Sohan to calm down. After a few tense seconds, Sohan let out a sigh. His broad shoulders relaxed.

  Natalie withdrew her hand and asked, “What can we do to help?” Erevan felt a pang of jealousy at the softness in her tone after the way she’d snapped at him earlier. Then again, he’d deserved it. Probably. Given another chance, he still wouldn’t have told her any sooner, but at least he could understand why she was angry that he hadn’t.

  “We need proof,” Sohan said.

  “This isn’t enough?” Natalie pointed to his phone.

  Sohan glared at Erevan. “Hate to say it, but Erevan’s not wrong. It could be someone using their books.” Erevan smiled, but Sohan scowled at him. “Don’t get cocky. We need one of them. We need the books, we need something more concrete. Then we can go to Valella and prove this.”

  Erevan’s jaw dropped. “To the queen?”

  “Here’s your chance, boy. Always talking about your big dreams and how you want to move up in the world.” Sohan barked a harsh laugh. “Heroes get the shit end of things if you ask me. But if you want it, this is your chance to fly with the Tempest.”

  “My chance to look like an idiot if you’re wrong,” Erevan said.

  “Only cowards are concerned with that,” Sohan said. “You want to be the one who let the Raspolin rise up because you were afraid to look stupid? What else do you have?”

  Erevan hesitated, staring down at his hands. How had he gone from handling mischievous Wanderers to finding missing women to proving the resurgence of a supposedly extinct dragon-hating cult? Think, he told himself. “Beale probably won’t go back to the facility after that. I need to track him down. Thosrin knows more than she admitted.”

  He hadn’t wanted to jeopardize his good standing with the Crow Queen before, but the situation had changed. He hoped that she didn’t know what Beale was doing. God, did Lilya know? Either way, he had to find out how much they knew.

  “Then go talk to her.”

  “But I should really tell Rosak,” he said. The thought of bowing to Rosak’s authority made his stomach lurch. “This is not a Skywatch case anymore.”

  “That man is a blunt object,” Sohan said. “You let him talk to Thosrin and we’ll have full-scale war by midnight. I’ll tell him I sent you. Meanwhile, you get a shower and get your ass to the Crow Queen. Lean on her hard.”

  “Do you think I could get some fresh clothes before we go?” Natalie asked politely. “I’ve been in this since yesterday.”

  “You’re not going,” Erevan said.

  “But—"

  “You’re not going,” he snapped. Her jaw dropped. It was unfortunate, considering he’d just smoothed things over in the courtyard, but he wasn’t putting
her in danger. If the Raspolin could cause such a catastrophic reaction in him, how much worse could they do to Natalie, with so little power? He wasn’t going to take the risk.

  “And if that happens again to you?”

  “Then I’ll deal with it,” he said, a note of fear threading its way around his heart.

  “Cause it was such a predictable situation the first time around. Exactly how will you—"

  Sohan banged his cane against the ground. “Quit arguing. You sound like children. She’ll stay with me.” He glanced at his phone. “I have an idea. But whatever you do, don’t take them on alone.” He gestured to Natalie. “I’ll meet with you around one.”

  By the time she arrived in the small guest room in the Emerald Wing, Natalie Thomas was sick of being ordered around by dragons. From Erevan commanding her to stay behind to Sohan demanding to meet with her to Ruana dragging her along like a lost puppy, it had been non-stop since she woke up that morning.

  Nestled into the tree line surrounding Skyward Rest, the Emerald Wing reminded her of a college dorm with a flair for stone chic. It was an understated building, with none of the ornate details of the palace. Manicured flower bushes surrounded the perimeter, heavy-laden with yellow flowers the size of her fist. Gradient silks in orange and yellow hung from the roof, rippling gently in the breeze.

  Located on the third floor, Natalie’s room was the size of a small studio apartment with clean white drapes and linens. Ruana dropped a backpack on the bed and headed to the back of the room. “Bathroom in here,” she said. “Linens go to the laundry on the first floor when you need to change them. They’ll trade you new ones.” She came back to pat the bag. “I brought you some clothes. I think we’re close to the same size, but if you need something else, let me know.”

  “Thanks. Do a lot of hybrids live here?”

  Ruana shrugged. “A few. Back in Ascavar, hybrids were sort of looked down on. Here, things are different. Sohan has a lot to do with that. He’s always had a soft spot for hybrids, and he told the queen if she wanted things to be better here, she needed to address the ‘ridiculous superiority complex that comes with our scales’.”