Obsidian Wings

by Clara Hartley

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Obsidian Wings

  Clara Hartley

  Copyright © 2018 by Clara Hartley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  Constance wrapped her fingers around the lizard’s head and crushed it. Quick and humane, like how Mother had taught her.

  This magic was the only thing she had to remember her mother by.

  “Esrea misreagou,” she muttered, speaking the ancient chant. A bluish light swirled from the lizard and curled around her fingers—its soul. Soul magic was an archaic art. Few knew of its existence, much less how it worked.

  She breathed out a soft sigh and waved her fingers over a concoction she had brewed moments before. The herbal mixture glowed, then dimmed, welcoming the power the soul provided.

  “That’ll have to do,” she muttered. They were running low on herbs.

  A tapping sound echoed from the hallway and an aged, thin-framed man stepped into the cottage. “We’ve done it again,” he said with his willowy voice. She worried for her foster father Eduard’s health. The stress of caring for the village’s sick made him weary, as much he tried to hide it. Eduard hung his tattered coat over a moldy chair before rushing over to place his hands on Constance’s shoulders. He had a firm, encouraging grip despite his sickly form. She withheld a flinch. A dark, crawling sensation started from her spine and traveled up to her cheeks. She still didn’t like Eduard’s touch—men made her uneasy. Her father wasn’t like those other men, however.

  She swept the dead lizard aside, hoping he didn’t notice the small droplets of blood on the table.

  “Is it me, or are your brews becoming more potent? Madame Soren’s little boy walked out of the infirmary today all on his own. He couldn’t even sit up yesterday.”

  Guilt boiled in Constance’s chest. She had tried to not make that medicine too strong to be inconspicuous. She had harvested the souls of almost half a dozen large insects for it. The boy had suffered from a fever. He could have recovered on his own eventually, but not as quickly without her intervention.

  It was the power of her forbidden magic.

  Uneasiness swelled in her chest. She forced it away and attempted a smile. “Madame Soren must be happy.”

  Most people feared witchcraft. She should not be relying on it so much, but the art called to her.

  “You wouldn’t believe it. Madame Soren left with her son, almost glowing with joy. Can you imagine that woman, glowing? She’s always wagging her crusty ol’ finger at someone, nagging about how rude they are or something like that.” He shook his head, and a hint of a smile graced his lips. “You’re a miracle worker, Constance my dear. What did you use in that concoction again?”

  “Sparroweed.”

  Eduard raised a brow. “We have enough of that?”

  Truth was, they didn’t. Their funds ran low and herbs cost a lot of money. Eduard giving away medicines for free hardly helped their situation. “I used the last of it,” Constance lied.

  “Again? I swear I bought another batch last week. And sparroweed is a common herb. It shouldn’t have been that potent.” He placed a finger on his chin. “Maybe Madame Soren’s son wasn’t that sick after all. Perhaps I’ve misjudged. I’m getting silly and old.”

  She pursed her lips and grimaced. “I doubt he was. I’ve seen him running about a lot. He’s a healthy boy.” She lowered her head. “Too bad about the sparroweed. We’re out. The cold seems to be about this time of year. It’s getting chilly.”

  Eduard had taken her in twelve years ago. She had slipped into the cover of the night after Mother fell prey to the beastlike men in the brothel. Thieving kept her alive until the kind healer met her.

  Her father was the only man she didn’t detest. She had tried to force the brutish persona on him, and to imagine him like the men of her childhood—but she couldn’t.

  Eduard had only been kind, loving, and understanding. Not once did he show menace or raise his voice. Twelve years had allowed her to see nothing but goodness in him.

  That didn’t mean she liked other men.

  After the trauma of what she had experienced, it was still difficult to see them as more than monsters.

  He leaned over and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Are you sure about this, dasher?” He called her that sometimes. They met after she sprinted into his clinic while running away from the city guards. She’d been living with him ever since.

  She shrugged. “No, but I’ll have to go through with it. How else will we get the money?”

  Eduard had been wealthy as a city healer before. Not anymore. They’d moved to the outskirts because, as he had said, “I became a healer to help the sick and needy. The pompous folk in Everndale have plenty of physicians to help them.”

  His head swayed, and he sighed. He poured himself a glass of cheap ale—Eduard never drank unless his mood was exceedingly sour. “I’m such a failure.” He sat down, eyes hollow.

  It jarred her to see this man so beaten down. Eduard had always been her pillar, the positive one. But they lived through troubled times.

  She bent down and hugged him, trying not to flinch again. She had to get over that bad habit. “Don’t say that. You’re always trying your best.”

  “This isn’t supposed to be the way it is. You’re my daughter, not my property. I shouldn’t be selling you off to the dragons.”

  It was ironic how she spent her life running away from her childhood, and now she was prostituting herself to creatures far more terrifying than human men.

  She hated the idea. But it was the only one they had.

  Half the villagers of Evernbrook were going to starve this winter because of a raid by bandits.

  She squeezed tighter, then pulled away to look at his sullen eyes. “Papa, we have to. It’s a long shot anyway. Over a hundred girls line up for them, and usually only one or two are picked.”

  “Option number two isn’t very good either.”

  If this plan failed, she was going to return to Everndale to find work and send money home. She liked that idea even less than the first. Bastion was still there, and last she heard, he had climbed up the ranks.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “As if the bandit raid wasn’t bad enough, the drought killed off most of the herbs in the vicinity. Darn dragons. They take our girls every five years but don’t give us good weather.”

  “I’m not sure if they can control the weather.”

  “They can. They’re gods, right?”

  “That’s what people say.”

  A pause lingered. Then Eduard took a big gulp of his ale. Even the ale was going to run out soon, and it usually lasted longest for them because neither of them drank much. “Used to think coming to the outskirts would make my life more fulfilling. Horseshit, that is. Now I have to give my only daughter away to something.”

  “I’ll send letters. And I’ll return whenever I can.”

  “If you
can. There has to be some other way.”

  A loud growling came from Eduard’s stomach. He flashed her a sheepish grin. “What’s for dinner, dash? Actually, it smells like meat in here.”

  She lit up with excitement and hurried to the back where their fireplace was. A pot of stew was boiling. She lifted the lid. It smelled heavenly.

  She placed the stew on the table. “Remember that animal trap we set up in our backyard?”

  His eyes widened. “It caught something?”

  She nodded. “Cooked it the way you like it.”

  A low chuckle rumbled from his throat. He scooped up some of the food. “Ah, it’s hot.” His laughter grew louder. “Tastes like the heavens.” The sound of his laughter was music to her ears. It reminded her of the way he used to be before their circumstances went downhill.

  Once every five years, Rayse, the Black Menace, flew to Evernbrook to find his dragon wife. He’d done that a hundred years, and a hundred times he’d failed.

  “The Offering,” the humans called it. The one thing he asked in return from them for the services he rendered to them. As many willing girls as they could gather would line themselves up for the taking to receive glory and gold for their families. Even then, the Offering was for their own good. His dragons would go around picking random girls off the streets if not for this decree.

  He almost considered skipping out on the event this year, but the intrigue always called to him. What if he found her this time?

  Would he really want her? He’d lived many centuries without a wife. He could survive another few more. Plenty of women would throw themselves at him. He didn’t have to lock himself down with just one.

  But maybe he needed someone to fill that void he always felt.

  He and his entourage of men landed in the forest and called to their human forms.

  His bones buckled and morphed, snapping into various positions. It ached every time, but he had long since accepted that pain.

  He pulled the clothes he had brought along over his frame. “Remember the rules, men. Don’t take any woman whom you don’t feel the bond with. If you want some romping around, do it somewhere else under the guise of a human.”

  “Yes,my lord,” they chorused.

  They wouldn’t dare cross him. He recognized the reverence in their eyes, but also some hatred. He was their ruler, and not their companion.

  Rayse had not felt companionship for too long. And the only time he had found it was when he lived with the humans. Maybe that was why he was so drawn to them.

  He couldn’t go back to those days. Most recognized him as the Black Menace now. The humans, too, would fear him.

  His clothes were on. He tied his weapon gear to his body. He always brought them along just in case. “Don’t dally,” he told his men as he waited. He tapped his foot on the ground and crossed his arms.

  Another chorus of yeses, and they all quickened their pace.

  Constance stood waiting with her best friend, Marzia. Another few hundred girls were lined up beside them.

  The city official droned on in the distance about the importance of dragons to their trade routes.

  The moon hung low in the sky. A perfect, luminous full moon. The villagers said that it was always like that whenever the dragons came.

  “You think they’re going to show?” Marzia asked. The petite auburn-haired lady couldn’t stop fidgeting.

  Constance and Marzia shared a love of reading, but that was about it. Marzia far surpassed her in beauty. The woman bore exotic, womanly features. Small chin, sharp nose, and eyes that looked like the sea itself stared at you. The whole of Evernbrook was certain she would get picked.

  Constance clenched then unclenched her fists. She couldn’t stop moving around. She needed to go to the restroom for the umpteenth time that night. “Hopefully not. But they’re going to. They show every five years.”

  “I don’t think it’s ever been this crowded.”

  “It’s the drought and the recent raids. More people are desperate.”

  Marzia shared her look of dismay. “Mom would never send me if not for us lacking. Better one child to the dragons than five to the hunger.”

  A loud trumpeting sounded from the stage right behind Constance. She flinched at the sudden loudness of it.

  Marzia rubbed her hands together. The clearing was chilly. “It’s happening, I think.”

  “Dragons?”

  Marzia nodded, hooked her fingers together, as if in prayer, and swallowed a nervous gulp.

  Constance peered out to the distance but only saw Eduard waving in the crowd. She returned with a little wave.

  Then she saw them. A group of about fifty men strode from the nearby forest. The one in front of them stood out the most prominently. She couldn’t stop looking at him.

  She pointed to him. “Who’s the one leading them?”

  “That’s Rayse, the Black Menace. He orchestrated this whole thing. Haven’t you seen him before? Honestly, happens every time. He’s always in front.”

  “Eduard and I usually skip out. We don’t like crowds.” There were too many men in them, and it made her uncomfortable. Just watching fifty hulking dragon men walk toward them made her uneasy.

  Marzia gestured to him. “He always leads them. Everyone knows his face. You’ve seen him before. He’s depicted in books. He’s the god of the gods.”

  His face became more visible after they neared. Every feature of him was all man. He had a chiseled jaw and wavy, long midnight hair. He tied up his fringe, but let down the rest of his hair, which fell messily over his shoulders. Over his tunic, he strapped himself with a couple of daggers and a sword. He was at least a head taller than most humans, and every inch of him was pure muscle.

  He could crush her like a fly.

  “Yes… I recognize him,” she said. But the drawings didn’t do him justice.

  A sudden wanting took over her body as he came closer.

  She wanted Rayse.

  All she needed was the Black Menace himself.

  What? She’d merely gotten a glimpse of the him. Did all the other girls feel this way too?

  No, no, no! an unfamiliar voice screamed in her ears. It was almost deafening.

  She cupped her hands over her head and yelped. “What was that?”

  Her yelp drew the attention of Marzia. “You okay? Honestly, Constance, you’re paling.”

  “A voice. I heard a voice. Did you hear one too?” She tried to control her breathing, realizing how panicky she sounded.

  Marzia finally ripped her gaze from the dragons. “Do you need to sit down?”

  “Can you hear it? Can you?”

  Marzia shook her head. “I hear nothing. Although there is this strange feeling.”

  “When you look at the Black Menace?”

  “No, just at the crowd. I think someone’s there waiting for me. Honestly, this is strange.”

  Constance frowned. Something was horribly wrong. “Make it stop,” she said.

  “Make what stop?” Marzia asked.

  Run, run, run! the voice echoed in Constance’s head. She ground her teeth together. “My head hurts.”

  Stop, she wanted to shout back, but she knew doing so would make her look like a lunatic amongst the crowd. What was that voice? It was beginning to feel familiar, but she was certain she’d never heard anything like it before.

  He will lead to your demise, it said.

  “Dragons, damn it,” she said. “It’s killing me. There’s this throbbing in my head. It’s like my own body doesn’t want me to be here.”

  “You’re the healer here. Does this match any symptoms of illnesses you know of? Goodness, you’re scaring me.”

  Constance’s cheeks flushed. She wrapped her arms around herself and sucked in deep breaths through her teeth. “None. Not any that aren’t life-threatening, anyway. I think I’m hallucinating.” The voice was still asking her to run. The muscles in her legs clenched. She was just about to.

  Marzia bent do
wn to support her. “Um… hold on for a bit longer. The dragons will be gone and then we can let you rest.”

  Constance was sweating. “Not going to hold out for long.” She wanted to sprint away.

  As Rayse drew close, she could tell he was studying the crowd of women. The city official had broken into a speech, welcoming the dragons, but her clouded mind prevented her from paying any attention.

  Rayse, the Black Menace, appeared to not care for the speech either. His eyes were fixated on the women, displayed for him like meat on shelves. If he decided to take all of them, Constance doubted the city council would care, so long as the dragons continued to render their services to the humans.

  As soon as she laid eyes on him, she knew this beast could have whatever he wanted.

  Why was he studying other girls? A sinking ache started in her belly when she realized she didn’t want Rayse to look at the other females. She wanted his attention all to herself.

  And then she realized he had given it to her.

  Marzia calling to her was a faint echo.

  Constance could barely focus on any sounds—not with his eyes raking over her hungrily, and not with their gazes locking. He was beautiful, with dark hair and a form as sinewy as a lion’s. His features were sharp, chiseled, and elegant at the same time. Just his appearance made her mouth water. She wanted to brush her hands through his hair. She longed to kiss the corners of his lips, and ached to have him take her into his arms and show her the pleasures—

  She should be flinching and withdrawing. What was this betrayal of her body? It made her feel dirty and violated.

  Immediately, another a rush of sensations coursed over her. This time, not pain. The tips of her fingers tingled while a wave of heat rushed to her center.

  “Oh my dragon’s breath,” she murmured. “What is happening to me?”

  Was this dragon magic? She didn’t feel normal. Never did thoughts such as these cross her mind.

  She hated men. Just thinking about sleeping with them made her skin crawl. She even thought she might fancy women more during her adolescence.

  But Rayse looked oh so delicious.