Marked by the Dragon

by Kayla Wolf

  ”Rosaline hoards resentments,” David tried to argue, but Olivia had always been harder to talk around than her sister. She raised an eyebrow as she turned to peer at him over her shoulder, her mane of blonde hair swinging back from her face. “Besides, you guys said I could keep my things here until I’ve hollowed out enough space to start moving down to the desert—”

  ”It’s not a desert, David. It just… needs a bit of love, that’s all.”

  ”I’m not complaining. The view of the sky’s great.”

  ”You won’t be able to see it if you’ve drowned in books.” Olivia opened one of the boxes, yanking a tome out at random. “Seriously? An album of—cloud pictures? Can’t you just look at the sky? Why do you need records of it? And this one—“

  ”That’s about stars! Constellations! Maps—”

  ”You know you can’t fly to space, right? And what’s this? Fortune-telling?”

  David felt a shock of recognition as Olivia yanked a familiar volume out from the box she was rummaging through. It was the book he’d been thinking about the night before—the guide to interpreting the future from the stars.

  ”It was part of a collection,” he argued, feeling strangely embarrassed that his pragmatic little sister was discovering his secret interest. “I haven’t read it—”

  ”I never took you for the spooky type, David,” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow as she leafed through the pages. “Oh, it says here all you need is the place and time you were born, and you’ll know everything there is to know—”

  ”You’re being mean,” David snapped, moving across the room to rescue the book from her clutches. “Humans like this stuff. They set a lot of store by it. Who are we to judge?”

  ”Sensible people,” Olivia suggested, clearly fighting back laughter—but she sobered a little at the look on his face. “Sorry. It’s just—you have to admit, it’s a little bit silly, thinking a bunch of balls of gas billions of miles away have any say over what happens down here—”

  ”We’re magic flying dragons, Olivia—”

  ”Am I interrupting something?”

  David spun on his heel, surprised to see another familiar face at the doorway, blue eyes crinkled in amusement.

  ”Amara! I thought you’d be in Unity—”

  ”Diplomatic visit,” the woman said, crossing to hug him in greeting. It was incredibly good to see her. He and Amara had been neighbors for a few months—she’d come down to stay in the cabin next to his for a little while the previous year. A lot had happened since then, not the least of which was the discovery that she was the unknown heir to the monarchy of a small settlement down south.

  ”Leadership suits you,” he said, holding her by the shoulders as he looked into her face. “You look great. Happy.”

  ”I am,” she smiled. “What about you? I heard you were back home.”

  ”Yeah, it was time,” David shrugged, glancing over his shoulder. Always hard to tell if William was listening—and he didn’t want to antagonize the old dragon any more than necessary. Olivia was clearly thinking along similar lines—he could see the frown in her eyes. “Hey—want to come and visit my new place?”

  ”It’s almost sunset.”

  ”Best time,” David said happily. “With the clouds today? The sky’s going to be gorgeous. And I need to take some of these books down,” he added, winking at his sister. “For fear of further judgment.”

  ”You haven’t changed,” Amara grinned, looping her arm through his. “Let’s go.”

  When they arrived, Amara filled him in on what was going on in the little town she’d inherited. It seemed things were settling down after the rather stormy change of government that had taken place when she had returned there to claim her throne. It was hard and exhausting work, of course, especially given the distrust that had built up during the illegitimate government’s reign, but she had the help of her four mates to keep her going.

  ”Four soulmates,” David mused, standing on the rocky ridge at the top of his new territory. “I can’t even imagine one.”

  ”Neither could I,” Amara shrugged, shading her eyes with one hand as she looked out across the sunset-bathed landscape. “Then it happened, and I can’t imagine going back.” She tilted her head at him, a curious look in her eyes. “Are your thoughts turning that way, David?”

  ”Not really,” he shrugged, taking a seat against the rock he’d found earlier and inviting her to join him. Here, the sun-drenched sky was laid out before them like a blanket, and Amara hummed happily as she settled at his side.

  ”Beautiful view. Trust you to inherit such a perfect view of the sky.”

  ”I don’t know. It doesn’t really feel like home,” David admitted. “I guess once I carve out a cave and maybe plant a few flowers or something…”

  ”Yeah? Go the traditional route? You know you could probably build a cabin like the one down south.” Amara shrugged. “The guys and I live in a building, it’s pretty good. Caves are fine, but they get cold, you know? Especially if you’re in the habit of sleeping in this shape.”

  David nodded. His father was one of the only remaining dragons who spent more time in that form than in his human shape—another mark of his stubborn traditionalism. These days, there were just more and more reasons to be human-shaped. David had even found that the stars were clearer and brighter through these eyes. What use did a dragon have for what lay beyond the sky it flew through?

  ”Not sure what I’m going to do yet. Let the place speak to me for a little while, I think. I found a half-carved cave over there the other day I can keep my books in.”

  ”Oh, yeah? Dragon claws?”

  ”Yeah. Dad must’ve started building something before he gave up.” David shrugged. “I don’t want to ask him about it. Seems like a bit of a sore subject.”

  ”He must be a tough dad.” Amara was leafing through books from the box—and her gaze settled on the fortune-telling tome that Olivia had been mocking him about. “Oh, hey. Let’s do your chart.”

  ”My what?”

  ”It says it can tell your future! You’re not even remotely curious about the arcane secrets of the stars you spend so long staring at?”

  ”Not really. You believe in that stuff?”

  Amara shrugged. “I mean, there are oracles down south who do similar stuff.”

  That was news to David. “Seriously?”

  ”Yeah. There’s more to the world than this valley, David,” she chided him gently, flipping through the pages of the book. “Here. It wants to know when you were born and where. You do it,” Amara added, dumping the book in his lap. He grinned to himself. Even among friends, it just wasn’t polite to ask another dragon what their age was.

  But he frowned as he followed the book’s instructions, the light bleeding from the sky. It felt like there was a strange tension in the air, as though there was something waiting for him in the slender volume. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? It was just silly human superstition. He followed the indicated pages, checking the sky a few times as he did to ensure the constellations he was using to cross-reference with were correct.

  ”Huh,” he said thoughtfully. Amara, who’d been staring at her phone and grinning to herself, looked up.

  ”What?”

  ”There’s a—a prophecy, or whatever. A reading. Here, look.”

  “Oh, cool. I want to do mine next.” Amara grinned, but the expression faltered a little as she read the pages that the book had indicated were relevant to David’s particular star chart. “Wow. Maybe I don’t. That’s grim. The love of your life, terrible danger, deception, loss and betrayal, mistaken identity… displacement? What does that one mean? Does it have any details?”

  ”No. Just a bunch of key words, I guess.” He shrugged, trying to dismiss the prickle of apprehension that had run through him. “I guess the vaguer they are, the more likely people are to believe this nonsense, right?”

  ”I dunno,” Amara said softly, staring down at the book. “A year ag
o, I’d have agreed with you, but these Oracles I’ve met… they’re the real deal.” She hesitated. ”Want to come check this out with the Oracles? Because best case scenario, it’s a bunch of human nonsense. Worst case scenario… David, this looks like your soulmate’s in danger.”

  ”I don’t have a soulmate,” he said blankly. The idea was preposterous.

  ”Yeah, that’s what I thought, then I met mine, but if I could’ve saved them from harm before I met them, I sure as hell would have.” Amara narrowed her bright blue eyes at him. “Come with me. It’s only a day’s travel. You’ll be back within the week.”

  David sighed. He had to admit—the idea of getting away for a few days was tempting. He’d been back for barely a day, and it was already beginning to wear on him. Besides—he had months of work ahead of him. What difference would it make if he delayed it a few days? “Fine. But only because I want to see this village you’re queen of.”

  ”It’s a town,” Amara said with dignity. “And I am graciously extending my hospitality.”

  ”Very kind,” David said, offering her a teasing little mock-bow. She laughed, hitting him on the shoulder, and he smiled to himself—but there was a prickle of worry in his chest regardless. Those words, outlined so starkly in black and white on the page. Deception, betrayal, mistaken identity… he’d thought that astrology was meant to be more cheerful than that. You’re a Leo so watch out for bad weather, that kind of thing. And though he wouldn’t admit it to Amara, a part of him was quietly glad to be seeking out expert advice on the matter. Hopefully, these Oracles, whoever they were, could put his mind at rest.

  He managed to pass off his visit to Unity as a diplomatic visit with Amara. He must have caught his father in a good mood—the old dragon nodded, muttering something about royal alliances as he pored over a stack of paper that looked centuries old at least. Lines of succession, David remembered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. If William really thought anyone in the valley would support his claim to be king over Alexander, he had another thing coming. But it was a hobby that kept him out of trouble, Olivia had explained, so they’d encouraged it as gently as possible.

  They left bright and early the next morning, arriving in Unity by around midday. Amara gave him a brief airborne tour of the place, pointing out the palace (a low, white building on a hill that stood over the town) as well as the town hall where she spent a lot of her time, talking with citizens about their concerns. From the way she spoke about it, she sounded more like a public servant than a queen. Definitely the right way to go about it.

  But they didn’t spend long in Unity. Amara had managed to get an appointment with the Oracles she’d told him about, and he followed after her as she winged her way south of the settlement, an uncharacteristic feeling of nervousness settling in his belly. He tried to dismiss it. Silly, to get so superstitious about something so transparently false. Horoscopes weren’t real, and neither was astrology. He’d spent enough of his long life staring into the sky to know that the stars, while unbelievably beautiful, didn’t really have much to say.

  South of the town lay a small body of water—a lake, with pleasingly regular edges. From the air, it was oval-shaped, with a slight point at each end, for all the world like a great blue eye peering up into the sky. And to David’s surprise, as they winged their way down, there was an island in its center, a perfectly round raised stone platform with the placid lake waters lapping at its edges. Like a pupil, David thought, feeling a shiver go through him.

  “You’re here!”

  Where on earth had she come from? There, standing in the middle of the disc, a woman in long white robes, waving cheerfully up at them as though she’d been there the entire time. But David couldn’t remember seeing her there a minute ago. Had she emerged from some secret staircase that led down beneath the lake? He and Amara shifted forms as they landed—there wasn’t much space on the rocky platform for both dragon forms. The woman moved forward to embrace Amara, who hugged her back happily. Then she turned to David, and he blinked in surprise at her vibrant, violet eyes that seemed to be looking straight through him—though there was a kindness to them there that made him feel alright about being so closely scrutinized.

  ”This is Hera, the Oracle,” Amara told him. “Hera, this is David, the friend I mentioned.”

  ”Yes, I can see that.” Hera smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling. She had long, silver hair braided behind her head, and though her human shape didn’t seem much older than his, he got the strangest sense that he was in the presence of an elder dragon. Strange—most elders allowed their human forms to age along with them, his father being a prime example. But this woman, were she to go among humankind, wouldn’t seem a day over thirty.

  “Forgive my ignorance—I didn’t know there was an Oracle at all until Amara told me.”

  ”Nothing to forgive. We keep to ourselves. Especially in the wake of… certain unpleasant happenings. A schism in the organization. Politics,” she said, flicking a hand dismissively. “Certain among us opposed our new queen. As you may remember,” Hera added, quirking an eyebrow. “You were there that day, that battle. You’d have seen my violet-eyed sisters.”

  ”I did,” David said, feeling intensely awkward. Amara had warned him not to bring up the Oracles who’d fought on the illegitimate government’s side when she’d claimed her throne—and here Hera was, opening the conversation with a discussion of it.

  ”But you know what it is to disagree with family, don’t you, David?” Hera murmured, her eyes locked on his. “To be at odds with the people who should be your closest allies.”

  ”My father—” David started, not sure how he was going to finish the sentence, but Hera had already moved away from him with a businesslike dusting of her hands.

  ”Never mind. Come, sit.”

  He started as he turned to follow her. Behind them, for all the world as though it had been burning for hours, stood a bonfire, flames licking hungrily at logs of wood. The warmth of it rose up against his hands as he raised them. Amara settled into a cross-legged position by the fire, and he joined her—she tipped him a wink as he did, oddly reassuring. He was grateful to have her there. Hera knelt at the other side of the fire, the flames dancing in those strange, vibrant eyes. David folded his hands in his lap, waiting for what was to come.

  ”And what brings you to the Eye of the Oracle?” she asked, and for some reason, her voice sounded different. Amplified, somehow, reinforced—he got the strange sense that more than one person was speaking, even though it was just Hera, the wind toying with her silver hair.

  ”I—well. I was looking at the stars the other night, and—”

  David gasped, his train of thought completely derailed as the light seemed to vanish from the world. All of a sudden, darkness was all around them, as though night had fallen in an instant. The fire kept crackling, and Hera’s steady gaze didn’t falter—but above them, the stars shone down. Amara took his hand in hers and squeezed it reassuringly, encouraging him to keep talking. He took a deep breath.

  ”The stars. And—I looked at a book of—of astrology…” God, he felt ridiculous saying this. But Hera’s gaze was unrelenting, and he couldn’t stop now, could he? “I looked at the stars, I looked at my stars, I think—I don’t know, it said some stuff—”

  ”She needs you,” Hera said, and her voice was louder again, stronger. It felt like it was bypassing his ears, somehow, being beamed directly into his mind—the same way dragons communicated when they were in their true shapes. But Hera was in her human shape now—wasn’t she? He blinked a few times, having trouble figuring out what he was looking at. “Your soulmate. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’ll need you, sooner than you’d think. She’s in danger. Aren’t we all, these days? A pretender to her heart wants to claim her, but it’s you she needs. You are connected already, by the stars, by the sky. You must all be restored to your proper places. Here.”

  David blinked, his eyes unfocusing. There, in the flames… he stare
d deeply, trying to focus on Hera’s voice. Among the embers, bright points seemed to burn into his vision like sunspots. He blinked his eyes hard, but the points didn’t disappear—instead, they multiplied, swirling and moving until he was dizzy and overwhelmed. And maybe it was the disorientation, maybe it was the dark, maybe it was the deep strangeness of the experience… but something about the bright marks burned into his vision suggested a map. And on that map …

  “There,” Hera breathed, her voice right on top of him as though she were speaking right into his ear. “You need to mark her as your own and you will be given what you need to find her.”

  A point on the map, brighter than all the others, and somehow cooler, like the feeling of water moving across your skin. He stared at it, felt his hand reaching for it almost without his say-so—he knew he was reaching into the fire, knew on some level that that was a bad idea, but something in him wouldn’t let him pull his hand back until he’d touched that gleaming gray-blue point—

  There was a sudden roaring in his ears, and he shut his eyes hard. When he opened them again, he staggered in shock. It was broad daylight again, the gently ruffled waters of the lake lapping peacefully around the stone platform they stood on. He spun around—no sign of the bonfire they’d sat by. The firey map was gone, the feeling of Hera’s voice in his ears… and to his surprise, Hera was gone too. Amara was standing beside him, her hand on his back to steady him.

  ”What—” he started, feeling overwhelmed. “Did any of that just—”

  ”It’s a little disorienting at first, I know,” Amara murmured. “Sorry I couldn’t have warned you.”

  ”It’s okay,” he said blankly. “But—I still have so many questions. She said—she said my soulmate’s in danger.” He stared at Amara. “I don’t have a soulmate.”

  ”Seems like you do,” the dragoness shrugged.

  ”And even if I did—how am I supposed to find them? Her,” he corrected himself, remembering what Hera had said. “That narrows it down, I guess.”

  Amara tilted her head, then reached out to tap him on the wrist. He looked down and realized with a start that the hand he’d extended into the fire was clenched shut around something. Something cool and hard. He looked at it, and his heart skipped a beat.