Taking a deep, cleansing breath and looking up to the sky, to the Goddess that might aid her, she made every muscle in her body relax. Her shoulders softened, arms hanging at her sides, knees bending ever so slightly. She felt the tickle of magic, willing and ready to be free, and her arms ached with the want of flight. But she resisted. She offered a thin smile.
“I’m sorry…for my behavior.” The words were difficult to manage because she was not sorry, not in the least.
His green eyes glistened behind his fringe of dirt-brown hair, but he said nothing. He nodded once. Willing to hear her out? Perhaps. So she forged on.
“My name is Wylde and I am dragonkin—Wyvern princess of the Kiir’vanan clan of Vanla. I am frustrated at you for treating my kin as slaves, though it would be safe to assume you resent being a slave yourself. When one comes upon a sister in the forest, dying from many open wounds, one doesn’t just…forget about her so easily. Tell me, boy. If you had a sister and I had enslaved her, pitting her against another human; if he landed a fatal blow and she was dying in your arms, wouldn’t you seek revenge?”
The boy’s face grew tight, his mouth slashed downwards as he glared down at his feet. “I told you. It’s not my choice. I have to. If I don’t…I’ll be the one bleeding to death in a forest.”
She felt the ache in his voice. She had struck a nerve. Her heartbeat ratcheted up a beat.
“I can’t just let you let them go. It’s not that simple. Besides, even if you did save them, what’s keeping the Magi from creating more?”
Wylde frowned. “I would rally my people and we would fight,” she said, even though the Wyverns and the Magi had been somewhat peaceful for many years. Still, they wouldn’t hesitate to protect their princess if the need arose. She was one of them.
“How many of you are there?”
“Plenty.”
“And you’d feel confident against the force of the Magi? Even with the current Sovereign leading them? They are strong, Wylde—stronger than you could ever imagine.” The emotion in his voice made his words ragged and heavy.
She shook her head. “They don’t have the grace of flight, the strength of a dragon’s magic rushing through their bodies. They don’t have the wicked claws or armor of scales. They may be powerful, but they would falter without their leader. If we could disable him, we would win.”
Wylde believed that even the Magi had a weakness. If the Kiir’vanan lost their Queen, they would falter in battle. Perhaps if the Magi lost their Sovereign, they would waver as well.
The boy barked out a bitter laugh. “You make it sound so damn simple. Even if you killed every last Mage, more would crop up. They’re like goddamned rabbits. We’ll never be rid of them for good. It’s just not possible. There are too many.”
“I need to save my kin,” she said, the softness of her voice surprising even her as she reached for the human slave. “You would do the same in my shoes.”
Then she did something she never thought she’d do: She dropped down on one knee, taking his hand in hers, finding it calloused and rough. “Please. Help me this once. What if… What if there was a way to reverse the marks on your skin, the spells that bind you to the Magi? Then you could help me?”
His gaze jerked to hers, eyes flashing round in alarm. “It’s not possible. I’m calling your bluff.”
But Wylde’s mind was already turning over and over again. If he had enough magic to wield his chalk, perhaps he would have enough magic to bond with a dragon. The power of the dragon would quite possibly short out the spells wrought into his flesh when they bonded. He would no longer be callable to the Magi.
He would be Wyvern.
“There might be a way. Help me set them free and I will take you to my clan.” It wasn’t like the Kiir’vanan could deny her, right? She was their princess and she could be very persuasive. Havoc, her nestmate and leading suitor, told her that day in and day out. She offered a smile to the boy.
“What are you called, anyway?”
He looked both excited and wary, his eagerness held back by the fear lurking in those moss green eyes. She’d seen that same fear, that same pain in the dragon-dog’s eyes back in the forest and knew this was the reason she hadn’t been able to kill him, vermin or not.
“Kascien Trump,” he said finally.
And she froze.
Kascien.
The name struck a chord deep within her, igniting her mind with fire. So similar… Cashien Talovet had been a Wyvern years ago, the one who gave his life for peace between the Kiir’vanan and the Magi. But surely a Mage wouldn’t name his son after an enemy solder. Coincidence. She shrugged it off.
“Help me, Kascien. Help me free my kin in exchange for your freedom.” She looked at him, tipping her head to one side. She saw him go through a range of emotions before he finally smiled a tight smile and pulled out his chalk.
“I’m going to die,” he said simply, then drew a circle on the wall. It shimmered and magic bounced off on Wylde, dancing across her arms as the Portal grew solid. Kascien grabbed her hand and tugged. Wylde resisted, fear sparking into her throat as she fell through nothingness, feeling numb for a moment until she appeared on the other side. Her head spun as the static surrounded her, enveloping her as if she was its adored child, and just like that, it spit her out again.
She stumbled, then caught herself and stood tall, looking around to see a brightly lit room full of silver cages. Hounds peered out at her, their ears swiveling forwards. They were so beautiful…
And then magic was upon her, assaulting her senses, tearing the breath from her lungs. She dropped to the ground, deafened by the scream of voices in her head; angry voices that dinned and rose in wavering pitches. She saw the faces of two smug men, most definitely Magi from the locks of solid white in their dark hair and from the creases on their foreheads.
She opened her mouth to let loose a shriek, willing her magic to change her. Icy tendrils gripped her wrists, hauling her back as she stumbled forwards, pushing her up against the hard wall. Her head bounced off the surface and she howled again, fury rising. The hounds around her began to roar and scream—she saw their gaping fanged mouths, even if the cocoon of magic around her blocked out her senses.
The last thing she saw before the darkness took her under was Kascien’s face—his set jaw and flashing eyes—and she knew that he had tricked her, manipulated her just as she’d tried to manipulate him.
A string of curses rose up, but suddenly she was too weak to speak and her body folded in on itself, shutting down. Blackness greeted her and for once, she welcomed it.
***
Kascien could only stare. Vik and Romas Harper, the twins who typically flanked the Sovereign himself—a pair of Magi with some of the highest possible training—turned on Wylde without a word. They did no more than stand there, their fingers twitching and their brows furrowed as they cast their spells. Kascien felt the flood of their magic whip past him and he couldn’t help but flinch away, knowing damn well how it felt to be twisted around by their power.
But the magic fell on Wylde, sending her writhing to the ground, shrieks rising from her throat, too wild to be anything but dragon. He watched her in shock as she opened her mouth, gaping at him as if he’d planned this.
Accusing him.
Then her quicksilver eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed in a heap as the spells overrode her system. The drakehounds never stopped screaming for blood.
He shook his head, trying desperately to clear his thoughts. What the hell were they doing in his Kennel? The Magi never visited, not unless it was Quenth day, when two of the strongest hounds were pitted against one another. And even then, not many showed up. So why would the twins be here of all places?
And at the worst possible time, too. Shit, fuck, damn, he snarled inwardly as he forced himself not to react. His face was void of all emotion, even as his mind churned. Think, Kass, think. Say something. Something witty. Hell, just speak already! Pressing his lips tigh
t together, he looked up at Vik.
“Oh good. Now I won’t have to hunt you down.” He braved a glance at Romas, who was the crueler of the two. It would only take one smartass remark for the man to put him ‘in his place’. Romas’s lip twitched into a sneer and Kascien looked back to Vik.
The man ran a hand through his long hair, dark as coal, but with the brightest streak of snow white threading through his bangs. All Magi had it—it was their mark of power, the mark that separated them from the rest of humanity. How many times had Kascien wished that he’d had just a few white hairs? That maybe it would’ve kept him safe? But no, his was a solid, sandy brown. It figured.
Vik waved a hand at the hounds, whose mouths were promptly snapped shut with a tendril of magic. The barking ceased. “Explain yourself, Kascien,” he said, his voice powerful, bringing the boy back to the present.
Kascien merely shrugged. “I’m just saying that you saved me a trip. I was bringing you a new…specimen for your collection. Since you’re here, I don’t have to hunt you down.” He kept his voice even, light, trying to be carefree about it. Trying to be Kascien even when all he wanted to do was shake Wylde awake so they could flee.
Damnit, she had said she could fix him. Not looking like that, she couldn’t. Worse, that glare she’d shot him earlier was pure contempt; she believed he’d brought her here on purpose. She believed this was a trap, but he’d had no idea the twins would be here.
Trying to shake off the burn of shame, he offered Vik an easy smile. “She’s strange. At first, I thought she was man-made, but she claims to be from Vanla.” He tried to fish for the name of her clan—Kir-something—but he couldn’t recall it and decided it was best to leave it out. “Perhaps you can do something with her?”
“How did you tame her?” Romas’s words were cold. He was not amused by this and Kascien could tell just by his tone of voice that his eyes were flashing beneath a heavy brow.
“She’s a simple creature,” he said, though that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Tales were told of the dragons being wise and Wylde seemed to share their wisdom in a way. He shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ motion. “She wanted to see the hounds.”
“And why would she come to Albany?” Vik asked.
Kascien felt a bead of sweat at his brow and he itched to wipe his forehead. “She was fickle. Spouted nonsense about how we mistreat her kin.” He glanced down at her. Wylde, get up, he thought, growing restless, almost angry at her. She didn’t awaken, but then again, he hadn’t truly expected her to. He’d been blasted by the twins’ combined prowess before. It was disorienting and agonizing.
“Very well. Romas, go on ahead and inform the others of our new charge. Have them ready a wing in Esperidion. Get the strongest of bonds. I assume she will be wild once she awakens.”
Kascien’s heart twisted. Esperidion was the lone laboratory in which the Magi created plenty of strange creatures, drakehounds included. He’d only been there once, and that was enough for him; he couldn’t stand the pristine white of the walls, the tubes of bubbling blue fluid the experiments were birthed in, the little red dots as the cameras followed his every move. It had left a creepy feeling crawling under his skin. He hoped Wylde would be okay there, at least until he could figure out a way to get her out.
Romas snapped his gaze towards Kascien. Kascien met it, swallowed the lump in his throat, then looked away. The other man didn’t speak. He merely gathered up Wylde, threw her over his shoulder, and Portaled out of there.
Vik took a deep breath. “The Sovereign will be pleased.” But he was frowning.
Kascien smirked. “I figured he would be.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, boy,” the Mage warned, though his own tone was slightly amused. Out of all the Magi Kascien knew, Vik was the only one who looked out for him. “Come on. I’ll take you to him.”
He turned, drawing a doorway with his own long piece of chalk. Kascien gave a curt nod and as he stepped through, he prayed to a god he wasn’t quite sure he believed in anymore. He prayed for a miracle.
Walking through the ‘Hall of Hell’ as Kascien called it—a winding corridor lined with pictures of smug-looking Magi throughout the years, the hall that led to the Sovereign’s room—was difficult. Each step he took weighed down his already-heavy heart, his mind spinning with possible outcomes, each one ending with him worse off than the last. The Sovereign wouldn’t hesitate to scar him if he felt the boy deserved it.
And, of course, he’d expect a reason to why Kascien had brought a Wyvern to the Kennel in the first place when the girl was probably ten times stronger than him. He had no magic, no power against her. The Sovereign would either consider him a threat, or very dense. Since the man already considered Kascien worthless, he hoped it was the latter.
They reached a heavy oaken door with two guards standing stoically at each side. They held no weapons, but then again, they could have you down and out with just a finger twitch should they deem it necessary. Kascien looked at them without fear; they merely rolled their eyes. They’d known him since he was a child and although they knew he was foolish, they assumed he wouldn’t go against his master.
Maybe they assumed wrong.
Vik raised a hand to rap on the door with his knuckles. It gave a hollow thud and the door creaked open slowly. Vik strode in with Kascien on his heel. The room was small, decorated in silver and red; it should’ve been cozy, but instead it was cold and hollow. There was a slender man sitting on a plush leather chair, drinking from a glass of ruby red wine—burgundy, Kascien knew, was his favorite. He’d fetched it for the man plenty of times.
The Sovereign was pale-skinned and willowy, with a hawkish nose and lips that naturally turned down at the corners. His eyes were a vivid icy green—so unusual among the Magi, whose eyes typically darkened with the more magic they used. He turned his gaze to Vik, curious. “I was wondering where you’d run off to. I see you’ve brought me the rat.”
Kascien didn’t meet his eyes. He kept his own gaze locked on his hands, which hung in front of him, his fingers clasped around his left wrist formally. He could feel his master’s piercing glare sending shockwaves through him. It gave him a chill inside his chest. This was the last place he wanted to be, under the Sovereign’s thumb. He wanted to find Wylde. He needed to. His future depended on her, damnit! But how could he make it work?
“Of course. But your rat brought you something useful, indeed. One of the Kiir’vanan, placed right in your open palm.” Vik’s voice was clipped. You’d think being the Sovereign’s right-hand man would make you a little calmer around him, but it didn’t. Try as he might to hold them in, Kascien felt Vik’s nerves jumping onto him like fleas.
The Sovereign made a little noise in his throat, though if it was approval or disapproval, Kascien couldn’t tell. Vik went on. “We have her detained in Esperidion, sir. Romas is overseeing.”
The Sovereign was silent, tapping his long fingers on the armrest of the chair. “Little Kascien,” he finally hummed out. Out of the corner of his eye, Kascien saw the man wiggle his finger and then felt the hook of magic stabbing into his chest, dragging him forward. He fought not to stumble, keeping his head high. “You brought me a Wyvern.”
“She’s not a dragon, exactly, but I figured she was the next best thing.” Especially seeing that he wasn’t quite sure what Wyverns actually were. Magi were Gifted humans. Could you be Gifted, yet not a Mage?
“And what exactly were you doing, bringing her into the Kennel?”
He felt his heart skip a beat, but he didn’t let himself waver. “She demanded to see the drakehounds, sir,” he said, pacing his voice to keep it matter-of-fact. He couldn’t let the man see his true colors. If he did, it would be bye-bye Kass. “She claimed we were abusing them.”
“And how could she have possibly met one of the hounds outside of the Kennel, I wonder.” The man’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Kascien?” He tilted his head to the side. It looked more sadistic than cu
rious, Kascien thought.
“It was the night to find a winner,” he said, picking each word carefully. “When the loser fell, she must not’ve been dead, sir. I left her in the ring and took the winner back to the Kennel.”
He took a deep breath, knowing honesty was the best policy. He just wasn’t excited about the punishment. “I must’ve left the latch undone. She got loose in the city and the Wyvern tracked her back to me.”
“Why would you leave the gate unlatched, boy?”
Kascien felt magic bonds tightened painfully around his wrists and he resisted the urge to grimace. “I thought she was dead, sir.”
The tendrils wrapped up his arms, leaving red welts in their wake before tightening around his throat. Kascien stiffened, his eyes snapping up to greet the gleam in the Sovereign’s as he tried to inhale. Damnit! His throat began to burn, air sliding from his lungs. His first instinct was to struggle, but he knew better. Instead, he willed his entire body to relax. His legs folded out from under him, depositing him in a pile on the hardwood floor. The magic receded and he gasped in air.
“I’m sorry. I was stupid, sir.”
“Indeed,” the Sovereign agreed. “But then again, you did bring me a fresh specimen. And perhaps one I can wager with, do you think, Vik?”
Vik said nothing, just kept his eyes locked on the wall ahead of him. Kascien warily rose to his feet, feeling his previous exhaustion setting back in, making his eyelids heavy. The Sovereign’s magic tipped Kascien’s chin up until the boy was eye to eye with his master.
“Good job, little rat. You are dismissed.” He gave a wave and Vik reached for Kascien’s shoulder.
“Wait.” Kascien’s voice was strong. “Sir. I have a request. I have duties in the Kennel, of course, but I was thinking… Perhaps it wouldn’t be out of line for me to go to Esperidion, to watch the tests conducted on the Wyvern? Since I found her?”
“It sounds to me like you think I owe you something.”
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