by Ashley Frost
Constance blinked hard, considering the options. She chose the lesser evil. “Let’s use it.”
“I don’t have it with me now.”
Her eyes nearly bulged out of her sockets. “Then why suggest it?”
“I can get it. But it’s a three-hour flight to the western mountains of Falron. I can’t even guarantee it’ll be that fast. Dragon vision makes finding herbs easier, but it’s still time consuming. Kingslin Grass is a notoriously illusive drug.”
“Will he even have three hours?” Constance squeezed Rayse’s palm.
“Ensuring that is your job. The dragon mother is almost here. My mind can sense her, and the goddess’s presence is sounding increasingly loud. You have to stall her and lie to the rest of the village about Rayse’s absence.”
“Confront the immortal dragon goddess and explain Rayse’s disappearance to a village in which half of its inhabitants hate me?”
Greta placed her hand on the doorknob. “Sounds about right.”
“I’ll do my best,” she sighed. Anything to keep Rayse alive and next to me.
***
The anticipation of the wait was oddly similar to the day of the Offering. Constance sat with Nanili in the shade of a newly erected podium. The clan inhabitants were minding their own festivities, mostly. She felt like an ornament on the podium. She sat there as a decoration. No dragon minded to greet her, or even glance toward her direction. She didn’t care for their apparent lack of interest. She welcomed it, even. Increasingly, each time a clan member glanced her way, they bore looks of disapproval. It seemed that they were too concerned with the dragon mother to display their apparent dislike of her.
Which was good, because they didn’t notice the empty seat next to her.
A daunting challenge faced her. The challenge was much more taxing compared to the one she faced during the Offering.
She wanted to hurl. She wasn’t one for large occasions and politics with deities. She’d rather sit at home and study, or play with soul magic.
“She’s descending,” Nanili said.
It was one of the few times the mishram said anything without being prompted. It startled Constance.
“The dragon mother? You can sense her?”
“Yes.”
“But you only have a dull soul.”
“I can sense her.”
“How?”
“I just can.”
She’d forgotten that asking mishrams questions usually led to nowhere, so she didn’t bother pressing further.
A few seconds later, Nanili was proven right. A massive, luminescent dragon descended from the clouds. Its scales were so reflective they sparkled in the sunrise. One minute, they were golden, and the next, they shone silver and blue.
The dragon mother was spectacular and haunting. Her form commanded the attention of everyone. Ravens flocked around her like moths to a flame. The music and rowdiness quietened. Even the musicians were too distracted by her presence to continue playing.
She, Constance, an average woman, had to face this magnificent, immortal being. How?
The task overwhelmed her, but she sunk her nails into her palm with a firm grip and stood as confidently as she could on the podium.
The goddess descended and landed in front of her. The ravens scattered. Everyone around the clearing knelt.
Constance didn’t. Her gut told her it wasn’t the right thing to do. Instead, she merely bowed her head slightly to welcome the deity.
The dragon mother shifted. A bluish glow gleamed from the goddess as she sank into her human form. The goddess dared do it in public? she thought. Soon, the entire clan was gazing upon the naked deity. The dragon mother’s bare form was an art by itself. Her frame encompassed a perfect balance of femininity and power. The goddess acted nonchalant as her sinewed form walked to a clan member who held out a robe for her to slip on. The dragon mother dragged the golden silk over her smooth, creamy skin. As the goddess did so, her eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, shot toward Constance.
“You do not kneel,” the female dragon said.
She stiffened at the sternness of the woman’s voice. “Oh, yes.” She bowed.
“That isn’t kneeling.” The goddess sounded displeased. Some of Everstone dragons flashed Constance looks of disdain, others worry.
“It is a sign of respect. I was told dragons respect signs of strength. I may not have the power of a dragon, but I will display strength through other means. If I don’t have the courage to stand before a god, would the other members of this clan respect me as the dragon wife of their leader, their femriahl?” She hoped her disobedience and bullheaded behavior would distract the goddess from Rayse. Every minute she bought for him counted to keeping him safe.
A small, irritated smile graced the goddess’s lips. “You have a peculiar tongue, Constance.”
The way her name slipped out of the deity’s mouth chilled her. “How do you know my name?”
“I am a god. It is a goddess’s duty to know her subjects. I also know you haven’t bonded with Rayse, obstinate one. You have no right to the claim of femriahl just yet.” The dragon mother raised a hand. “Kneel.” A dark pool of magic swirled from the goddess’s fingers. The wisp of magic looked almost inconsequential. It flowed through the air as a thin, snaking line.
That little amount was able to overcome Constance’s resistance. She fought as hard as she could to remain upright, but it pulled down on her with sheer power she’d never come across before. It was stronger than Rayse. Stronger than the presence of all the assembled dragons combined. It made her sick and nauseous. The magic was dark—vile.
The dragon mother was no deity. The woman’s radiant beauty deceived the dragons, but she saw the goddess as a demon.
She was on her knees, then on the palms of her hands. Her head lowered to her fingers in a full, demeaning kneel.
“That’s better,” the goddess said, her expression unwavering.
Constance saw some clan members snickering. It made her blood boil.
The woman climbed up the podium, then sat on the over-the-top throne the villagers had prepared for her. Crossing her legs, the goddess returned her attention to Constance. “Now, where is Rayse?”
Her heart raced. “Away.”
The dragon mother raised a brow. “Away? On my visit? I assumed he’d be excited to pay his respects and love to his god.”
Constance’s skin crawled with the thought of Rayse doing as such. “Your presence has led to the other clans feeling agitated. He is at the borders performing his duty as clan leader to ward them off.”
The goddess didn’t look convinced. “Oh?” A brief silence stilled the air. Thankfully, the dragon mother didn’t press on.
Constance studied the crowd. None of the Everstone dragons seemed to act strangely. She breathed relief.
The ancient woman intertwined her fingers. “I understand that a procession will be in play?” It was the first time the goddess addressed the crowd.
An aged woman who look almost as old as Greta stepped forward with a scroll. The old woman didn’t exude the same confidence Greta did. Her fingers trembled as she rolled the scroll open. “Right. Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Dragon Mother.” The woman paused and awaited direction.
The dragon mother waved her hand and let out an annoyed sigh.
“Right. We want to commemorate your arrival with a series of performances. The records say you enjoy them.”
“Get on with it,” the goddess said.
At once, a row of girls assembled themselves in front of the dragon mother. They split into two groups. One group sang with lovely voices, the other danced. The sight would be enjoyable if not for the dark tendrils of magic holding Constance down to the ground. Her neck was starting to ache from the awkward position.
Performance after performance came in a mere hour. There were fire dances and some plays. The dragon fights were the ones that seemed to rile the crowd up the most. The hour seemed to stretch on agonizingly
for ages. Constance was held in the demeaning position the whole time. She directed side glances to the goddess. The dragon mother remained mostly tight-lipped with a bored expression.
The goddess stood and raised her hand. Even her simple act of standing exuded grace and beauty. “Enough,” the dragon mother said, as a defeated dragon collapsed onto the floor. “I tire of petty games.”
The entire crowd stilled, awaiting the deity’s next verdict.
Run, the same voice she heard during the Offering said. It was a mere whisper in her head, but distinct and commanding. Do not… It didn’t have the strength to finish whatever it wanted to say.
“What is it?” Constance said softly, needing to know the end of that sentence. The voice felt… afraid? Afraid of the dragon mother. It didn’t want her anywhere near that woman.
The desperate need to run took over.
The dragon mother sighed. “I am deeply disappointed with the turn of events today.”
“Goddess, we—”
The dragon mother cut off the aged woman. “Your performances were… nice, I presume?” The deity paused, then pursed her lips. The crowd waited for her verdict, as if eager for rain after a long drought. “But I’m afraid they weren’t sincere. Where is the Black Menace? I am deeply offended that he is not here to greet me, even though he is in this very compound. “
Constance’s breath caught in her throat. The dragon mother knows.
A loud chatter spread across the crowd.
“Rayse is here?” one said.
“The goddess can’t be wrong,” another voice uttered.
Oh, fuck the gods, Constance groaned internally. This was the worst thing that could have happened. Greta still had hours before she arrived. That old woman probably hadn’t found the herb yet. It wouldn’t take long before the clan members figured out Rayse couldn’t make it because of his exhaustion, what with the dragon mother’s unconstrained proclamation and all. Then they’d kill him because they’d see him as unfit.
What a horrific way of life. Her stomach ached from the worry. The internal workings of her mind raced. She had to do or say something to keep Rayse safe.
“She’s playing games with you!” Constance shouted. “Rayse is out at the borders fighting for this clan.”
“Liar!” a dragon-man said. He breathed fire at her. It heated her skin, but didn’t reach far enough to touch it. “The dragon mother wouldn’t deceive us. Rayse is here.”
“She’s trying to protect him!” a woman yelled—Ranwynn’s mother. “He must be here in the clan, hiding. He must be weakened. The dragon mother is giving us an opportunity. She doesn’t want Rayse to rule!”
“He is weak,” a member of the crowd said.
“We must replace him,” another joined in.
“Find him, find him, find him!” the crowd started to chant.
A sly smile spread across the dragon mother’s lips. The woman leaned over to her. “Fools, aren’t they? So easily manipulated.” She felt the magic shackles release her. “Run for your mate, young one. This will be a fun show to watch.”
Constance’s immediate instinct upon freedom was to rush toward Rayse. She was sprinting to her home before she noticed the horde of dragon-men racing behind her. No! That was the wrong thing to do. Now they knew he was home. She’d acted so stupidly out of instinct.
“Take her,” the leading male ordered. He seemed bulkier than the rest, although less than Rayse. Most of the clan members fell behind him because of his size.
She struggled, but hands were upon her, stealing her freedom as soon as she received it. She wept out of frustration. What would she do even if she reached Rayse? She didn’t have the strength to lift him and take him someplace else without anyone else noticing.
“Please,” she begged. “He’s your leader.”‘
One of the dragons snarled. “That’s why he must be taken down. We’ve suffered under his rule for long enough.”
She wanted to run from all of this. The words from Rew were starting to come back. Act small. Act useless. That’s how you survive.
But she couldn’t. It wasn’t a good way to protect someone else. If she acted useless, the other dragons would simply take the love of her life away from her.
Still, even with her trying not to be, she was useless.
She fought and screamed and bit, but she could not do anything to a team of dragons. They dragged her, humiliated her. At that moment, she hated everything. She hated her past, the dragon mother, Greta for being late, and Rayse for hurting himself. But most of all, she hated herself for being just like the weak eight-year-old girl she had sworn she wasn’t going to be again.
“She’s a feisty one,” a dragon laughed.
“I want Rayse to see her face all beat up. We’ll make him pay,” the largest man said. “All these years of suffering, lugging around heavy grain and metals.”
“I would assume grain would be easy for dragons like you to carry, unless you’re all soft and spineless? Contrary to what your brutish exteriors imply,” she taunted.
The large man growled. “We’ll see if your tongue is as sharp when I cut it off and feed it to you.”
So, they were going to torture her. She didn’t care. At that moment, her instincts only screamed at her to protect Rayse. “I’ll skin you alive,” she hissed. She surprised herself with her overwhelming need to protect her mate. Such a strong need to care for something, even for her sick patients, had never came over her before.
The brute spat in her face. He pulled her head back using her hair. “I’m the only one who should be making threats here.”
She yelped from the pain. “Go to hell.” She spat back at him.
His face turned red with anger. In an unrestrained swing, he punched her. Her jaw nearly came out of socket. The punch made her dizzy.
“Do dragons really lack that much honor to take down a fallen man?” she yelled to the trailing crowd. “Do the dragon people truly want a leader who gets his position by cowardly means? Rayse has kept the peace. I know there are supporters amongst you.” A slap flew across her face, but she continued. “Help him. He has done his duty to the clan. Now it’s your turn!”
Nothing. She caught a glimpse of the dragon mother following behind the crowd, grinning with amusement.
“Help your leader!” she pleaded, but it was for naught. The clan only seemed interested in seeing Rayse dead. Her chest tightened. He’d die at this rate. This was really happening.
“Nobody will stand up for that man,” the brute said, guffawing. “Duty? What duty? He’s only given us duties.”
“He has prevented slaughters. He has given this clan strength to withstand others.”
“Shut your trap, woman.” He raised his fist. She braced herself for another mind-numbing impact.
It didn’t come.
Another man had thrown himself against the brute. She recognized him as one of the patients she and Greta had treated. He didn’t look strong enough to hold his own against the brute. They both shifted. Bright glows gleamed from their bodies. Her heart lurched. The dragon-man who saved her would be pummeled to death if nobody else intervened. He wasn’t big enough to take down his opponent.
“Join him!” she rallied.
She caught Marzia nodding to her in the crowd. The encouragement from her friend egged her on. “Is bravery not strength?” she yelled. “Join your brave companion!”
She’d never seen so many dragons shift at once before. The glow that emanated from their bodies was blinding. The lanes in the village were usually wide enough to accommodate one or two dragons shifting, but not this many. Buildings were destroyed as the shifters took to the skies. The clashes between them burned. Some homes caught fire. The dragon wives were quick to flee. They were immune to fire, but any of these dragons could fall and crush them.
She wasn’t immune to flames yet, but that didn’t faze her. The dragons who held her were now fighting, leaving her unchecked. She dashed toward her home. She had to wak
e Rayse somehow.
Please be safe, she chanted mentally.
She sped past Nanili and into her room. Rayse slept soundly. He looked so peaceful, as if a war wasn’t happening outside.
“Wake up, please,” she begged. “Please. You’ll die.”
She teared up as she cried into his chest. “We have to leave before they find you.” She could hide him somewhere. Her mind worked on overdrive as she thought of ways to hide him. Act first, think later. She tried to lift him up, but he felt like he weighed as much as a mountain. She wasn’t exactly known for being strong. She could barely sit him up. She could use a spell to help her carry his frame, but she didn’t have any sacrifices of value.
A tug ripped her away from her mate. She smashed onto a bench, making her head ring from the pain. Her vision was fuzzy when she looked up. The brute. He had escaped the fight. Was his opponent, the man who had stood for Rayse, dead? She didn’t have time to distract herself with such thoughts.
“You whore,” the brute seethed. He had a hand pressing against his forehead, which dripped with blood.
“I thought you mentioned something about no one supporting their leader? You were wrong, dragon.”
Another hit smashed against her head. The shock was so tremendous she didn’t feel it. The aftermath, however, came like a swirling wave of pain. She grit her teeth and sucked in a sharp breath as her vision began to fade away.
“Not so smart-mouthed now, are you?”
Die, she thought. She meant to speak the word, but she couldn’t. The stinging sensations pulsing from every part of her body numbed her too much.
A knee thrust into her gut. She tasted blood in her mouth, coppery yet sour. The brute’s laughter hummed in the background.
Rayse, please wake up.
He continued to sleep.
This man will kill you. Wake up.
Her consciousness waned. She no longer had the strength to keep her eyes open. They slowly blinked shut, but not before she saw the shadowed figure of another woman wading into the room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The pounding would not cease.