by J. D. Monroe
“Think so,” Velati rumbled. He took a tentative step and groaned as his back leg buckled. That was going to leave a mark. Leaning heavily on his uninjured leg, he launched himself into the air, struggling to catch air under his wings. He was far from the formation, but he kept watch for stragglers.
His strength flagged as they crossed the walls of Natar. Dragons swarmed the Stormcrest Keep. The steps were alight with a fireworks display of dragons shifting back to their human forms. He landed harder than he intended at the foot of the steps, collapsing on his knees. A few feet away, Rihz helped Dyadra to her feet while pointedly keeping his eyes closed. At the top of the steps, Rosak was adjusting a pair of loose pants around his waist.
“You’re bleeding bad,” Marlena murmured as she slid off his back.
As soon as she was clear, he released his dragon form in an explosion of cold energy. “I’m okay,” he murmured. His tattooed skin was torn open from his left hip down to the inner part of his knee. He felt queasy at the sight of raw flesh through the steady flow of blood. He was not okay.
She grabbed his arm, letting him lean on her. Normally, he would have pulled away, but the world was spinning wildly. “Hey!” she bellowed. “He needs help!” She peeled off the borrowed jacket and pressed it below his hip. He covered her hand, putting painful pressure onto the deep wound to staunch the flow of blood. Her protective aura still prickled all over him, sending a thrill down his spine.
He raised his eyebrows, gripping her hand tightly. “You protected me.”
“I told you I could,” she said. “And promised that I would.”
Her green eyes were creased in concern, and even badly wounded, he couldn’t ignore that fact that he was naked with her hands inches from his groin. Thankfully, the blood was pouring out of a slashed vein instead of flowing further south. “Thank you.”
“Move,” Dyadra snapped. Kneeling by his side, she deftly tied the sleeves of the jacket around his thigh. “We have to get him back to the Marashti. Rosak, get her back to the other side.”
“She helped me,” Velati said to Dyadra quietly as they walked back into the keep. He craned his neck to see Marlena waiting patiently with Rosak, who gave her an appraising glare. He had one hand on her shoulder, but her eyes were on Velati. A chill ran through him. “She could have turned on me, and she didn’t.”
“That’s a low bar,” Dyadra said.
He shuddered. “Did you get the queen?”
“She’s already through,” Dyadra said. “Tirak got hit with one of those liquid metal things. Right in the face.” She shook her head. “He didn’t make it. His partner survived, but he’s pretty banged up from the fall.” She grunted with effort as she helped him limp down the spiraling stairs to the Gate chamber.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Stealthy as ever,” she said. “Changing back is still hard, but here I am.”
He looked back. No sign of Marlena. “Where is she?”
“Rosak will deal with her,” Dyadra said. “Worry about yourself.”
He grabbed Dyadra’s arm. His old friend gave him a sharp stare. “Don’t let them mistreat her. She helped me. She could have let me die.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Like I said. Low bar. It’s called a long game, serani.”
But as Dyadra led him toward the Gate, he couldn’t believe that. Not anymore.
Back in the human realm, the Stormcrest Keep was still busy, but it seemed more organized with Vicha and Sohan shouting orders and directing traffic. Within five minutes of crossing over, he’d been ordered into a corner to sit on a crate while a healer slathered a thick, gritty paste onto the deep gash. The claws had barely missed his femoral artery, which was a tiny blessing. He bit back a curse at the sensation of ants biting inside his veins as the ointment soaked in.
It was unpredictable how a wound would transfer from the dragon form back into the smaller human form. They actually healed somewhat in the process of transformation, but the large dragon form sometimes meant devastating injuries upon changing back.
The healer bandaged the wound securely. “I’ll come back and check on you in a bit, but this will stop the bleeding for now. I have to—”
“I understand, sister,” he said gently. “I’m fine. You have patients who need you more.”
She smiled and patted his shoulder. “Just stay off your feet for now.” She removed her rubber gloves and grabbed the rubber tote by the chair, then scurried toward another patient holding a bloodied cloth to her throat. He leaned against the wall, breathing through the discomfort. A couple in linen garb walked past him.
“This place smells so different,” the woman said in a dreamy voice. Her platinum hair was braided neatly, gleaming almost white. She slipped her cloak off. While her arms were wrapped in thin strips of linen from wrist to elbow, her upper arms were bare, revealing crimson tattoos like Marlena’s. Velati inhaled deeply, catching the scent of Kadirai and blood. Like Marlena.
The dark-haired Kadirai male scurried ahead of her. “Kohra, your cloak,” he said in Kadirai, pulling it back up to cover her arms. He pulled it together in the front, then gently put her hand over the overlap to hold it closed. “You must keep it on for now.”
Carefully weaving through the clusters of soldiers, he led her to a cozy sitting area at the back of the house. Large bay windows overlooked dark fields beyond. The woman traced the window with one inked finger, while the man crossed his arms, eyes constantly moving like he was anticipating another attack.
Velati lurched to his feet, then awkwardly maneuvered his legs into his pants. Once he was halfway decent, he limped toward them. The man stiffened at his approach. “Excuse me,” Velati said in Kadirai. “May I ask you about your marks?”
The man frowned, looking down at his dark hands. Like his face, they were marked with several deep scars. “My marks? Why?”
“Not yours,” Velati said. Stepping past the taller man, he tapped the woman’s shoulder. She turned, fixing him with her eerie green gaze. The familiarity of it startled him. “Your marks, Miss. What are they?”
She tilted her head and raised her hands. Up close, he could see the tendrils of red that traced up behind her ears, just like Marlena. “These marks?”
The man gently took her hands, covering the exposed marks between his larger hands. “Kohra, would you like something to eat or drink? We were in the desert for quite a while and you didn’t have much.”
“I am thirsty,” she said calmly. Her gentle expression was almost childlike. She gazed at him like he was a doting father. “That would be nice.”
The man gave Velati a pointed look. “Perhaps our new friend will help us find something to drink.”
“Of course,” Velati said carefully. “I would be happy to.”
“Wait here,” the man said. Kohra had already turned to stare in wonder at a huge yellow moth resting on the partially fogged glass. Her slender fingers traced around the rounded wings, leaving smudges on the glass. “I know what you are.”
“Me?”
“You’re one of the Arik’tazhan,” he said.
“Yes,” Velati said. “Is that important?”
“Please don’t kill her, kordari,” the man said. He glanced at Kohra. “She won’t hurt anyone unless someone forces her.”
Velati frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Please forgive my rudeness,” he said. He bowed his head. “My name is Tandar Blackwind. I traveled with Queen Udezari.”
“Velati Rimewing,” he replied. Tandar’s eyes widened in recognition. “Why are you worried that I would kill her?”
“You came to help us deal with the white dragons, didn’t you?” Tandar’s dark eyes drifted back to Kohra. “That’s what she is. Or can be.”
“Wait. They’re just shifters?” That was impossible. No one could survive such a transformation, least of all this wisp of a woman.
“Just shifters?” Tandar scoffed. “Like the ocean is just a pool of water. It takes a lo
ng process of blood magic, but yes. They’re just shifters.”
“We have to—”
Tandar grabbed his arm. Velati bristled at his familiar touch but didn’t pull away. “Please. She’s no threat to you as long as you don’t threaten her. She can’t change on her own. The Chosen had a whole ritual to force them to change. Without it, she’s just…” He gave her a wistful look. “The magic burned everything out of her.”
Then Marlena…was she one of the white dragons?
“Your people allowed you to bring her here?”
“You can speak to them,” Tandar said. “They were not pleased, but Kohra was cooperative. She’s happy not to have to transform. None of this is her fault.”
“You are very forgiving, considering how much these creatures have destroyed,” Velati said.
Tandar scowled. “Believe me, there was a time when I would have gladly torn her head from her shoulders in retribution. But I understand it wasn’t her choice.” He shook his head. “Kohra cries out in her sleep sometimes. I don’t think she wanted this. You cannot blame her any more than you can blame the fire for destroying a pile of kindling. Blame the hand that struck the blaze.”
Velati nodded. “I understand, my friend,” he said. “So, you’re her…”
Tandar’s eyes narrowed. “Guardian,” he said. “She’s like a child. I would never touch her.”
“I meant no offense,” Velati said quickly. “I was only curious. Would you be willing to share what you know with my queen?”
“Anything you ask,” Tandar said. “But please don’t let them hurt her.”
“I will do what I can to protect her. You have my word,” Velati said. “Here, let’s get both of you some water, shall we?” Tandar’s eyes widened as they walked into the huge kitchen, gleaming with stainless steel appliances. Plastic trays stuffed with sandwiches were stacked next to a pallet of bottled water. Velati opened two of them for Tandar and Kohra. Tandar’s eyes creased with relief as he drank half the bottle in one pull. Without speaking, Velati got him another bottle and one of the sandwiches, then followed him back to Kohra. Tandar was gentle as he brushed a stray hair from her face and gestured to the nearest chair. She sank into it, drinking the water slowly. At his direction, she picked at the sandwich, frowning at the unfamiliar ingredients.
This woman seemed barely aware of her surroundings, but Marlena was still sharp and strong. She’d alluded to an end result of her tattoos, so perhaps the process was incomplete. Did she know that her people intended for her to be their weapon of mass destruction, like the white dragon he’d left to die?
Velati gritted his teeth and set off in search of Marlena. He had to know.
Pangs of guilt struck Marlena as she watched Velati limp away, leaning on the petite woman’s shoulder. His golden skin was ashen, and bloody footprints trailed behind him. But he was alive, just as she’d promised. She was silent and compliant while Rosak conferred with his subordinates, handing her off to them to return through the Gate.
Don’t let them do anything to her, he’d said when he left. He trusted her. That realization was nearly overwhelming, filling her with unbelievable pride.
The passage between worlds was much less frightening this time, though when she emerged into the human world once more, she was oddly empty. The overwhelming intensity of her power in Ascavar had faded. Her body felt scraped hollow, like she’d been violently ill and had nothing left in her.
As she emerged from the Gate, Sohan was there barking orders. He beckoned for one of the guards in green. “Saradir,” he barked. “Get her secured.”
Saradir headed toward her. “Yes, sir.” His short-cropped reddish-bronze hair and well-groomed goatee were a fitting match to his perfectly pressed green uniform jacket. He looked smaller than most of the Kadirai. A hybrid, maybe. He gave Marlena a stern look. “Come with me.”
“Where’s Velati? Is he all right?”
“No questions,” he said flatly.
“Please,” she said. She took a tentative step toward Sohan. “Excuse me, sir. Velati came through before me, and he was injured. I just wanted to know if he was all right.” Saradir grabbed her upper arms, squeezing tight enough to hurt. “I don’t have to see him. I’m just curious.”
The older man tilted his head, like he was trying to figure out if she really cared. It was information, wasn’t it? And maybe she cared. A little. “Yes. One of the healers is helping him. He was upright, so I’m not too worried about him.”
“Thank you,” she said, giving him a faint smile.
He nodded curtly, with no trace of warmth in his eyes. “Get her upstairs and put at least two men on her.”
She held up her hands. “You’re forgetting something.”
“Upstairs,” Saradir said, pushing her forward.
He still gripped one arm tightly as he led her upstairs, but instead of walking her out to the main floor, he led her through a narrow hallway. Only a lone woman in pale blue walked down the hall, paying them no attention. He took her out the back door and onto a smooth stone patio. “Where are we going?”
Silence. She was unchained and still had enough adrenaline running through her veins that she could drop this guy without even using her power. One solid hit, right to his temple. He was jogging as they rounded the massive brick house and headed for the long driveway.
Saradir stopped at the last car, the one she and Velati had arrived in. He took a set of keys from his pocket and held them up in front of her. She stared at the dangling keys in wonder, almost hypnotized by the swaying glint of the metal under the moonlight. “What is this?”
He grabbed her hand and pressed the keys into her palm. “I know what you are. We are not enemies.”
Her stomach twisted into a knot. “You’re…you’re one of the Chosen?”
“We have people on the inside,” he said. “You need to leave before they realize what happened.”
This was a divine intervention, surely. This had to be a sign that she’d done the right thing. “How do I—”
“Please,” he said insistently. “You are too valuable to risk here. You have to go. I overheard them saying they’d kill you if you didn’t give up anything useful.”
Indecision gripped her as she clutched the keys. How was this even a choice? She knew what a loyal servant of Vystus would do, but she wanted to turn around and find Velati. If she returned now, someone might punish her for attempting to leave. And if not now, they would eventually kill her. It would only take one misstep.
No. She had kept her promise to protect him. That tiny shred of foolish attraction was no match for her sense of self-preservation. “Thank you,” she murmured. “What will you tell them?”
“You got to me before I got the manacles on you.” He shrugged. “There’s an envelope on the front seat with some cash and an address to a private airstrip. Drive straight there. I contacted them when you arrived here. They’ve got a plane waiting for you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You have to go. Someone’s going to come check soon.”
She sank into the seat. “Thank you. I mean it.” As promised, a white envelope in the passenger seat held five hundred dollars in cash and an index card with an address on it. After entering the address on the car’s built-in GPS, she drove away before she lost her nerve.
Fear bubbled up in her belly as she pulled up to the wrought-iron gate. A security guard approached the window. But with one glimpse of her bruised wrists, she realized she was free. With renewed energy, she rolled down her window and smiled at the guard.
“Credentials?” he said.
“You don’t need them,” she said, pushing her will onto him. He wrinkled his nose like he’d smelled something strange. “Just open the gate.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “Be safe.” He backed away and typed a code into the keypad. With a metallic clank, the wrought iron gates swung open. She stomped the gas, putting as much distance as she could between them before he realized what had happened. With her heart lurchi
ng into her throat, she practically stood on the brakes at a four-way stop a mile away. She wasn’t going to make it to the airport if she got arrested for driving ninety miles an hour down Georgia backroads, even if she told the officer, “I just escaped from dragons who were holding me prisoner.”
Still paused at the stop sign, she took a deep breath. She could still turn back.
Why was this so confusing? The Chosen were her family. She’d been an outsider to two different worlds until she met them, and now she had a place to belong. They’d seen that she was special and lifted her up, higher than she could have ever climbed on her own. They’d given her purpose, something to believe in.
Bright lights filled the rearview mirror, and she hastily stomped on the gas, following the GPS instructions to turn right up ahead.
But her divine purpose might have been a lie. How could she reconcile all those people, like Taran and Kali? The wanton destruction of Natar? Maybe the Kadirai of Ascavar were dangerous. Maybe war was justified, but that didn’t justify hurting innocent people that had been here their whole lives.
A shrill ring echoed through the car. She jumped in surprise and saw a green Answer button on the dashboard, replacing the onboard navigation map. She pressed it and said, “Hello?”
“Marlena?” a brusque male voice asked. “It’s Nikolaus. Are you on your way?”
She breathed deeply, though she felt oddly guilty, as if Nikolaus had somehow heard her inner debate. “Yes. I’m almost there.”
“Good. Hurry, please,” he said. “It’s time to go home.”
It took another fifteen minutes to reach the address Saradir had given her. Signs indicated the turn to Dekalb-Peachtree Airport. As she drove through the gate, she wondered if the Kadirai had even noticed she was gone. If Velati had noticed.
That was the worst of it. Life had been so simple until he’d come crashing in, and now nothing made sense. The further she drove, the worse she felt for betraying him. Even though he was just using her, her desperation to gain his trust was real.