Obsidian Wings

by Clara Hartley

  Fuck.

  Rayse ran out into a clearing. He stripped his clothes and called to his dragon form. His flesh turned to black scales. Horns grew from his temple. Soon, he multiplied to many times his usual size.

  He took to the skies and let the mountain wind cool his body. He glided through the air, then spiraled down in a rush of adrenaline. He halted right before hitting the ground, then lifted his wings to soar once more.

  The heat threatened to consume him.

  Was she still lying in his chamber with that frightened expression?

  Shen, his right-hand subject, cut through the clouds and appeared next to him. Shen had yellow scales. The eastern dragon looked nothing like the rest of them, with narrower eyes and more feminine features.

  Rayse had met Shen in their youths. Together with Fraser, the three of them were the first of the Everstone dragons.

  “Patrolling?” Rayse asked in Dragon Tongue. Humans or dragons in human form wouldn’t be able to hear them speaking. The low pitch dragons spoke with didn’t suit their ears. “Where is Fraser? He’s always with you.”

  The yellow dragon bowed his head. “Milord. He found his mate tonight.”

  “Honestly?” Rayse tried to hide his mixed state of emotions from Shen. “I didn’t notice.”

  “You were too focused on yours. Congratulations, by the way. Should you not be with her?”

  There was nothing celebratory about the need that consumed him.

  He was starting to be able to hold it back. His body didn’t have the energy to keep up with this forever. The ache subsided into a mild throbbing.

  “I can be wherever I want.”

  “Yes. Apologies, milord.”

  He bent his neck to look at Shen. “She’s back at home. She needs rest. And I presume Fraser is with his chosen?”

  “Yes. Strange thing about his chosen. She was asking about your mate a lot on the ride back home. Kept repeating her name. I think they’re good friends.”

  “What is it?”

  “Hm?”

  “Her name.”

  “Fraser’s? Marzia, I think.”

  Rayse growled. “No, not that. My mate.”

  Shen’s eyes widened. “You don’t know?”

  “Don’t question me.” Rayse’s dragon was testy.

  “Uh, of course. Um, Constance.”

  He nodded. “I like it.” He repeated her name in his mind a few times. At least he knew what to call her. He cocked his head. “Fraser’s mate didn’t pass out?”

  “It’s not normal, milord. When I found my wife, she rode home on the back of my wings fully lucid. I’m not sure what happened to you both. Perhaps your mate is unwell. You might want to bring her to the healer.”

  “I share your sentiments.”

  “Do you want me to call for Fraser, milord? Tomorrow is supposed to be a busy day. Some dragons say the Dragon Mother is about to awaken soon. They can feel her power.”

  “I sense her too.” The Dragon Mother was their goddess. Rayse worshipped her, like most other dragons. They believed she created them. She woke once every thousand years before going back to slumber. They had a short time frame to see their goddess before she went back to sleep. Stories told of dragons getting riled up during this time, because they believed the Mother only graced the strongest of clans.

  “No, I’ll visit him,” he said. “You say his mate is friends with mine? I’ll need to ask him to show them around. Might be better on Constance if she’s with someone she knows.”

  Shen’s eyes flashed with puzzlement. “Not you, milord?”

  “I… can’t be near her right now.”

  Rayse needed a while longer for his dragon to subside. It was getting better, but not nearly enough.

  Shen didn’t question him.

  “Take more men with you and start patrolling further out,” Rayse said. “I think the attacks from the other clans will start soon. They’re going to want to prove themselves to our goddess.”

  Chapter 5

  Constance woke with a jerking motion. She reached for her cheeks. They stained her fingers with dampness. She had been crying?

  She remembered she’d been having a nightmare right before she woke up. She was looking at her mother’s mutilated face again, with Bastion guffawing in the background.

  She swept her hair aside and sat herself up. She blew out a soft breath. It’d been years since those nightmares came to her.

  She surveyed her surroundings, noticing she had been thrust from a mental nightmare to a living one. Her clothes were gone. Ah, yes. She’d lost her flower last night to that… man.

  There was nothing but a bed, a small counter, and stone walls in the room. The place didn’t feel homely at all. It was just a place to rest, if Rayse even did come back here to sleep.

  In the empty room, she could sense loneliness.

  How could a man who ruled over so many be this alone? Maybe this wasn’t his home. Maybe he only brought his women here for his nightly bouts before leaving for his real chambers.

  “You need to take a shower,” came a monotonous voice from beside her.

  She stiffened and turned her head around. A woman stood next to her. But her skin color wasn’t right.

  That woman was… blue? Or gray. But her skin wasn’t that of a human. Holding her breath, Constance leaned backward.

  The intruder was dressed in a plain brown dress, and her face was ashen. Her hair was matte, dull, and fell flat on her skin. She struck Constance as being lifeless, despite obviously breathing.

  The woman continued to speak in a monotonous tone. “I am Nanili, a mishram. Master Everstone has commanded me to be your handmaiden.”

  “Rayse, you mean?” Constance frowned. She’d never heard of the name “Everstone” before. “And what do you mean by ‘mishram’?”

  “If that is how you would like to address him, then yes, he is Rayse. I am a mishram. My kind exist to serve the dragons and dragon wives. The dragons have deemed us perfect servants.”

  She had never heard a person talk without tone before. “Your kind is new to me.”

  “We only exist here, in Dragon Keep.”

  She had many questions for the strange, womanlike creature, but didn’t know where to start. She wondered whether she should be asking questions in the first place. Perhaps the wiser thing to do would be to run for the door and grab a knife. Would the creature jump at her and kill her without warning?

  She had no time to decide. Nanili dragged Constance out of bed, much to her dismay, and forced her through a door connected to Rayse’s room. It had a large, hot bath waiting for her.

  She tried to resist, but her handmaiden was surprisingly strong. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Master Everstone has commanded me to make sure you wash up. I cannot disobey, as I answer first to him, then to you.”

  Constance obliged. The water beckoned to her. She wanted to clean herself. As soon as she dipped her feet into the warm, soothing water, she grabbed a scrub and started washing.

  “I will clean for you,” Nanili said.

  Constance inched away, then started rubbing her skin so vigorously that she thought it might cause wounds. “No, I’ll do it myself.” No matter how hard she scrubbed, it wouldn’t take away the dirty sensation that consumed her.

  She ran the sponge over every part she remembered Rayse touching.

  His touch had made her feel like she’d fallen to abhorrent levels. She was exactly like those prostitutes in the inn, just that this time, she, luckily, only had one man to tend to.

  Her skin burned red and she slammed her hands against the tub in frustration. She had sold herself. Evernbrook would survive the winter now. The city officials promised ten gold ingots to the family of the women who were chosen. Her father would share that with the rest of the village. It would feed them for a whole season, and Eduard could buy the herbs he needed to save lives.

  She was supposed to be happy about this.

  But fright took over
her as she thought about how Rayse would take her like those men had taken Marsella. Every night. Over and over.

  And a part of her wished for that to happen.

  That terrified her—he made her lose control of even her own emotions.

  She gritted her teeth and continued scrubbing.

  Nanili had prepared breakfast. It didn’t taste like anything special, much to Constance’s surprise. She had expected dragon food to be more… exciting. Instead, it was simple bread and butter, along with an apple. The meal lacked any personality, like the mishram herself.

  “And this is what Master Everstone eats every morning?” Constance cringed, realizing she had called Rayse “master.” She didn’t want to live her life with a “master” instead of a husband. Marsella had suffered plenty of masters, and they all treated her horribly.

  “Yes.”

  “Please elaborate.”

  “The dragons prefer freshly cooked whole animals. They sear the animals with their dragon fire. These ingredients are specially shipped in for the dragon wives.”

  The image of charred whole animals made Constance gag and lose her appetite. She put the bread down to wait for it to disappear from her mind. “Don’t you need to eat?”

  “No.”

  “Not ever?”

  “Mishram do not need food.”

  Constance pressed her lips together. What kind of creature could survive without eating? “Are you always like this?”

  “Yes.” Nanili maintained her soulless face. The mishram’s expression, or lack thereof, didn’t waver.

  Constance put a hand on her forehead. “Okay then.”

  It only took a few more minutes for her to finish her meal. Nanili stood dazed the entire time. Normal humans would feel the need to start conversation, but the mishram was little more than furniture.

  As soon as Constance cleared her plate, the bluish woman said, “We must leave the house.”

  Constance dropped her fork. “Why?”

  “Master Everstone said to bring you to Fraser. He is to introduce you to the city.”

  “And if I want to stay home?”

  “I will drag you to him.”

  Constance remembered how strong and resilient the mishram was before her morning bath. She had to oblige.

  But she didn’t want to meet another male. She had spent most of her time in Evernbrook avoiding them, except for Eduard.

  Dread sank through her. Nanili could be her only female company for the rest of her life. The servant lacked any emotion. If all women in this place were like that, Constance would have to hang herself with a noose sooner or later.

  The mishram led her from the kitchen to the porch, and Constance followed obediently, not seeing the point of a scuffle. As she left the house, a wonderful surprise greeted her at the doorstep—Marzia.

  “Dragons, it’s so good to see you.” Constance barely processed the words before she spoke them. Looking at her friend made tears well up in her eyes. Maybe she was still back in the village and she’d finally woken up.

  Marzia gripped her shoulder. “Constance, are you all right? You don’t look well.”

  Hugging Marzia, Constance confessed, “I’m slightly better now that you’re here.”

  A broad-shouldered man stood tall next to her friend. He had a full head of silver hair with a mild blue tone to it, which he tied in a braid. The braid was long and draped over his shoulder and down to his waist. A light stubble covered his chin, like the one Rayse had, but instead of black, it was silver. Constance studied him warily, wondering why he was looming over the intimate moment she was sharing with Marzia.

  “Goodness, I should introduce the both of you,” Marzia said. She glanced up at the bluish-haired man with a sparkle in her eyes. “He’s my mate.”

  “Fraser,” he said, smiling. “Nice to meet you.” Constance didn’t trust that smile. It was too white and too charismatic. Then again, she found it difficult to trust men of any kind.

  “Mate?” Constance said. “The Offering… I don’t know what happened after I ran. You were chosen?”

  “Oh, you gave me such a scare when you raced away.” Marzia squeezed her hands. “I was wondering what had gotten into you. Honestly, I thought it was dragon fear, but people usually stand still, not run, when instilled by dragon fear. Then Lord Everstone announced he’d chosen you as his mate. It made more sense after that, but I didn’t get an instinct to run after finding Fraser. In fact, I was drawn to him. He announced me as his mate, which surprised me but felt natural anyway. Then they let me say goodbye to my parents and Fraser took me to Dragon Keep.”

  “You could say goodbye to your parents?” Constance cringed. She last remembered Eduard nervously waving to her from the crowd. He must be worried sick.

  She didn’t want to end her twelve years with him so abruptly.

  Marzia smiled. “Of course. The dragons aren’t monsters.”

  Plenty of stories would disagree, Constance thought. She mused at Marzia’s change in demeanor. The girl was afraid of being eaten less than twenty-four hours before. “Did you happen to see Eduard?”

  Marzia’s shoulders drooped. Her eyes darted to Fraser, as if she were looking for an escape. “I don’t know.”

  Intertwining her fingers together nervously, Constance pursed her lips, then said, “It’s okay. I can handle it.”

  “He… was crying. He didn’t know you’d be taken. But decisions are final once they’re made. He asked me to take care of—”

  “Eduard never cries. No matter how hard it gets.”

  “He did that day.”

  Constance bit down on her tongue. She didn’t want to hear any more. She’d lied when she said she could handle it. “So what is this place, anyway?” A cold breeze beat on her face. The outside was chillier than expected. She needed a fur coat, but she had left it back home.

  “We’re up in the mountains in Dragon Keep.”

  “Dragon Keep?”

  “It’s really the name of the castle here, but people identify this whole region by that name.”

  “The Everpeak mountains? But they’re too steep to scale.”

  Marzia rolled her eyes. “Dragons, silly. Honestly, that ride was exhilarating. Nearly wet my loins, that.”

  Constance noticed the auburn-haired beauty had her fingers firmly wrapped around Fraser’s. Marzia didn’t seem conscious of the touch. Were they already this close? Constance couldn’t picture herself doing the same with Rayse.

  Constance was staring at a stone pillar, distracted by her thoughts, when Marzia said, “Goodness, I suppose we should move along. Fraser was about to give me a tour around Dragon Keep. I’m here to invite you to join us, and, well, check if you’re better. Are you feeling better?”

  Smiling halfheartedly, Constance responded, “Better.” Seeing Marzia had lightened her mood. But the morning’s bath had failed to scrub the grimy self-hatred Rayse had left on her. She watched Fraser like a hawk, tensing at every movement he made.

  “Great. Fraser told me of a huge library at the castle. I like books, and I’m certain you do too.”

  Constance rubbed her hands together to generate some heat. “I’d really like to come along, but its freezing.” She eyed Marzia’s woolly shawl, wishing she had one similar.

  Her friend raised her brows. “Ah. We can arrange something about that.”

  Constance, Nanili, Marzia, and Fraser strolled along Dragon Keep. Constance pulled the shawl around her shoulders. It kept her warm, but barely. It belonged to Marzia, who had received it from Fraser.

  Constance studied the conglomeration of sporadically arranged buildings. Wooden thatched houses sparsely lined the sloped streets. Rayse’s house was the only one made from stone in sight. The slopes of the mountains were steep and immense.

  Pockets of buildings stood far apart from each other, separated by mountain valleys. They were only erected on plains that were level enough to have structures built on them. Cliffs made up a huge part of the landscape. The
intimidating slopes threatened to make her slip, making her uneasy.

  Rickety bridges connected the level sections. Dragons probably weren’t afraid of heights, but Constance wouldn’t want to risk her life trying to cross one of those things. To a dragon, the mountains probably meant open skies and wind. To her, Dragon Keep was a prison. She wouldn’t be able to scale the cliffs no matter how hard she tried.

  Several dragons soared over them. They were faint silhouettes. She blinked hard at the sight. She couldn’t believe they were real, but there they were. Dragons—majestic beasts gliding above her.

  As they walked on, the village grew livelier. Much to her amusement, she saw little dragonlings sparring in a sandpit. When they became too violent, their mothers separated them.

  “Are there really no dragon females?” Constance asked Fraser.

  “We wouldn’t be having this arrangement if there are,” he said. He had a smooth, velvety voice. It wasn’t anywhere as low or coarse as Rayse’s. He scratched the back of his head. “There’s one. Just one in our clan. She’s a grumpy old woman.”

  She turned to Marzia. Constance was trying to scuttle as close to her friend as she could, but Fraser’s nearness made that difficult. “Any other girls from our village got chosen?”

  Marzia shook her head. “No, just us. But one more from Everndale got picked.”

  “Just three of us? There had to be at least fifty dragons.”

  “It’s not up to us to decide,” Fraser said. “The mating process is something us dragons have to leave to fate. We are creatures who depend a lot on our souls. And it’s our souls that decide whom we shall spend the rest of our lives with. The elders describe the process as being instinctive and natural. Choosing a mate is not a conscious decision. Most dragons feel the need to lie with their partner as soon as their eyes meet.” He paused. “The partners are normally drawn to each other. It’s strange that you ran away.”

  It wasn’t magic on his part, Constance thought. My soul is to blame? Sounds like nonsense. But she understood soul magic unlike other humans. Deep down, she knew what Fraser said was true.