Obsidian Wings (Soul of a Dragon Book 1)

by Clara Hartley

  She sat. “Yeah.” A weary smile spread her lips. “I might have to live here again soon enough.”

  Eduard seemed to have sensed her sadness. “Why? What happened?” He cocked his head.

  “I might have broken the mate bond with Rayse somehow… He flew off. I’m not sure if he still has feelings for me.” She sighed and buried her face into her hands. “I don’t think he might want me anymore.”

  His face lit up. “That’s… good! Isn’t it? No, I mean, bad, very bad. But you can come back home, and things are better than ever around here because of the money from the Offering. You can stay here, and it’ll be just like before.”

  Tears were starting to flow out of her eyes, but watching the excitement and exuberance pouring from her father somehow made it better. “Sounds great, Papa.”

  A warm, familiar hand spread over hers. “Stop worrying about that menace. He never deserved you anyway. He’s just some smelly-breathed dragon.”

  “Rayse isn’t…” She decided she was too tired to argue.

  Eduard gripped her hand more tightly. “Now, look at you, you’re covered in dirt.” He squinted. “And is that blood?”

  “It might not be mine,” she lied. It likely was from the scrapes and bruises she’d received from fighting Ashur.

  “Why don’t you clean yourself up? The dark circles under your eyes are telling of your lack of rest. We can talk tomorrow.”

  “I was thinking to leave—”

  “Leave? Whatever for?”

  She bit her lip. “Rayse might come looking for me.” She recalled the note Shen left. Her bodyguard was staring out the hut, on watch, not seeming to care for this conversation.

  “Oh.” Fear crept into her father’s expression.

  “I doubt he’ll be as unamicable as last time. He’s not being driven crazy by the mate bond anymore.”

  Her father waved her along, obviously trying to hide his hesitation. “Sounds all right. Would you like me to prepare a pail of warm water—”

  Before she could decline, a ghostly whistling sound whipped through the house, shaking the roof. Eduard’s eyes widened. His body tensed as he kept a watchful eye on his surroundings, reminding her of a frightened mouse.

  “What was that?” he asked, his voice coming out in a quivering whisper.

  The same fright tugged at her chest. “I-I don’t know.” Was it Rayse, perhaps? She doubted it. It hadn’t sounded anything like him.

  “Shen?” she called. “Is there anything out there?”

  Her protector was on guard, with one hand on his sheath and the other on the hilt of his sword. “Not that I can see… Wait… There’s a black… fog?”

  “A fog?”

  The wind whistled through the house again, this time almost knocking Constance off her chair. She held on to the dining table to steady herself.

  What in dragon’s name was happening?

  “Constance,” Shen said, running toward her. “We have to leave. Now.”

  “It’s fog.”

  “It smells of magic. Too powerful for me, or you, to handle. We need to go.”

  “But Papa…” She whipped her gaze toward her father, who was looking too frightened to stand. Eduard was a kind man, but in no way a warrior. He didn’t bear the courage of one. “We need to bring him along.”

  Shen nodded once. “Hurry.”

  Before they could take another step, black mist poured into the room. It coalesced until it was a small cloud of darkness. She didn’t know what it was, but her instincts told her it was nothing short of destruction and death.

  Time in the room dangled to a halt. The three of them dared not move, uncertain of what the mist would do next.

  “Stay behind me,” Shen said softly.

  She swallowed, then balled her hands into fists.

  The mist suddenly formed a pointed edge and rushed toward Shen. She withheld a shriek, fearing for the dragon’s life. “Watch out!” Constance said, but Shen had faster instincts than she and was out of the way already. He dodged right and rolled across the ground. As he stood up, he unsheathed his sword.

  What was a sword going to do against mist?

  Shen pulled his mouth into a snarl. She saw the tension curling around his feet. He was ready to move as soon as the mist did.

  The mist came back at him with a vengeance. He breathed his fire at the entity. It did little to stop it. Before it was too late, he darted out of the way, but not before the magic grazed his left shoulder. He yelled in pain. The mist had left behind a macabre pattern of red slices across Shen’s flesh. Constance had to look away from the sight.

  We can’t win this.

  Whatever this mist was, she was more afraid of it than she’d ever been of Rayse or Ashur. Her feet came to life and, without knowing what she was doing, she grabbed Eduard’s hand. She ran, wanting to keep her father safe.

  Her stomach sank. She was leaving Shen behind. But that was probably for the better. She was useless, even with magic. She didn’t have to reflexes to dodge like him, and would only slow him down.

  “Wh-what is that?” Eduard said, not looking back. His jog couldn’t keep up with hers. Old age had caught up to her father and dampened his stamina.

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “We have to move faster. Shen might not be able to buy us that much time.” She pressed on, not daring to turn her head around.

  “No!” she heard Shen scream.

  Keep moving, keep moving, she told herself, tears threatening to escape.

  “Constance, look out!” Eduard shouted. With courage coming from nowhere, he leapt at her, shoving her out of the way. Her breath caught in her throat. A gargled groan of agony pierced her ears and her body crashed onto the snowy ground. A sharp pain lingered at the back of her mind, but all she could think about was Eduard.

  Papa.

  She almost didn’t dare look up, but she had to. The mist had swallowed her father. She got to her feet and rushed toward the entity. Without thinking, she reached her hand into the smoke to pull Eduard out.

  As soon as her finger grazed the fog, a tug pulled her backward.

  “Don’t!” Shen said.

  The tip of her finger throbbed, as if it had been freshly cut by a blade. “Papa is in there!” She struggled to reach back. She didn’t care if she lost an arm. She didn’t want to lose her family.

  Her father’s screams were muffled by fatigue.

  Shen gave her a sorry look. “I’ve failed you. That is my deep regret. It’s too late for him.”

  Her body shook in an uncontrollable fit of sadness. “No… No…o…”

  “It’s distracted. We have to go.”

  “I can’t leave him.”

  “He’s gone.”

  She didn’t want to move. The man who had raised her had died because of her. If she had to suffer the same fate, so be it.

  The fog vanished into thin air. She tensed, not having expected that. Her eyes fell on Eduard.

  She attempted to keep the vomit forcing its way up her stomach down. Eduard stood where the fog had been, looking no different than bloody tree bark. Numerous glistening, reddish grooves had been etched into his skin. Where his eyes had been, empty sockets rested.

  “No!” She collapsed onto the ground, the pain of loss shooting through her like a storm. She couldn’t bear to look at the sight for a second longer, couldn’t believe that the abomination in front of her had been her father just moments ago.

  Anger flared in her, a darkness she’d never experienced before.

  She wanted revenge. She’d find whoever cast that spell and skin them alive. Her cries quivered from her, ripping her apart.

  “Femriahl,” Shen said, picking her up. “Let’s go. The fog might come back soon.”

  “Not yet,” she growled.

  “Femriahl, please.”

  “My father doesn’t deserve to be left out like this. He needs a proper burial.”

  “There isn’t time—”

  “I don’t car
e!” She didn’t want to care about anything. That was the only way to smother the pain. She spun on her heel and headed to the shed to grab a shovel. During her short walk, all she thought about was how she’d never hear Eduard’s reassuring voice again, or feel the encouraging pat of his hand on her back. The magic had robbed her of that. Maybe Eduard wasn’t wrong to fear the art—it had killed him, after all.

  She picked a spot under a spindly tree and started shoveling.

  The flight to Evernbrook had allowed Rayse to calm his dragon. Now all he could think about was how he’d scared Constance. He shouldn’t have walked out like that, not right after creating the mate bond. She deserved better than that.

  He sighed internally and banked toward Eduard’s home. Tucking his wings into his back, he dived and landed. He called to his human form and allowed the magic of the change to crackle over him.

  An aura of trouble lingered over the place. His dragon instincts allowed him to sense that. He neared the house. He sped up his footsteps. It wasn’t long until he found Constance. Behind her was Shen, standing with a bowed head. Constance was kneeling over… a grave?

  Who had died?

  Shen noticed his presence. Rayse had done nothing to cloak it. “Lord Everstone. I’m trying to convince Lady Constance to leave because this place isn’t safe, but she won’t listen to me. Maybe you can do better.”

  “What do you mean it isn’t safe?” Rayse gestured to the mound of dirt, marked by a long branch sticking out from the top of it. “Whose grave is that?”

  “The femriahl’s father, sir.”

  Constance must have heard his voice, but she didn’t turn around.

  He bent down to her side. How could he have missed this? He should have been here. A dead expression had befallen his mate. She had her hands intertwined over her lap, and she stared blankly at the grave.

  “Constance?” he said.

  She blinked. Color returned to her, as if she’d been somewhere else and only then was she called back. “I shouldn’t have come here,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have… He would still be alive if not for me.”

  “Little fire…” He hated seeing her this upset—this broken. “It’s not your fault.”

  “But it is.”

  “No, it isn’t. Look at me.” He turned her around, so she faced him, but her gaze still drooped. “You couldn’t have known. Whoever did this… it was their fault, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that they get what they deserve.”

  “And then? He’s not here anymore.”

  Her crestfallen demeanor crushed him. He had all his power back, but helplessness wrecked him again. “I’ll be here for you,” he said. There was little else he could do to make things better.

  Her blank façade cracked. Her eyes lifted to reach his. “I tried to get him away.” A cry broke from her throat.

  He made a hushing sound and enveloped her within his arms, trying to provide as much comfort as he could. Once again, he had failed her. Anger boiled inside him, at the killer, then at himself.

  Chapter 21

  The familiar chill of Dragon Keep grazed Constance’s skin. She was back at this dreadful place, filled with small-hearted dragons and the memories of humiliation she had faced under her defeat. She couldn’t fathom how easily the members of the Everstones had cast Rayse out, even though he had kept peace for so many years.

  Rayse let her down and shifted from his dragon form into human. He clasped her shoulders in his large hands. “You don’t have to be here for this. Shen could have kept you safe until the challenge is finished.”

  “I’d be dead of worry.”

  “I’m not the one you should be worrying about.” He frowned. “This isn’t going to be pretty, little fire. To make sure no one decides to challenge me anytime soon, this fight needs to be brutal. My opponent isn’t going to live through this.”

  Confidence brimmed from his focused gaze. She was happy to know that Rayse had regained his strength. She sought the fear she had felt for him, but it had melted away long ago.

  She sighed. “I don’t understand why we have to be back here. I’m tired, Rayse. I don’t want to deal with clan politics.” Her mind was set on mourning. Grief was a fickle mistress. It often came and went, striking her hard each time.

  “If what Shen told me about that incident was true, then we won’t be safe wandering around Gaia like refugees. I refuse to give that life to you.” He brought her hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of them. “Trust me, Constance, this is the best way. For you.”

  “It’s safer amongst a group of bloodthirsty dragons?”

  “It’s safer amongst a group of bloodthirsty dragons who know not to mess with me. Right now, in their minds, we’re prey. We have to set the food chain straight.” He smoothed his thumb over her skin. “And over here, we’ll have a group of warriors as your bodyguards, and to help with our search for your father’s killer.”

  She didn’t want to let the darkness of revenge taint her, but it already had. Most of her need for research stemmed from curiosity—what kind of magic was that, and from whom? She was still too new to the art to know about anything, and to have defeated that power alone. She hated herself for being so inept. If she had been stronger, then her father wouldn’t have turned into that… thing.

  She clasped her hands over Rayse’s and nodded. “I trust you.”

  He planted his lips on her forehead. “Thank you.”

  Black fire crackled over seared snow. A terrifying beast perched over another, wings spread to their fullest lengths. His wings cast a swarming shadow over the mountain top—a warning to onlookers.

  Red blood poured from the neck of the fallen dragon in a thick, flowing river.

  Constance couldn’t rip her eyes away from the flickering black flames. She swept her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, for it was getting in her face and blocking her view. She wanted to take in every bit of the sight in front of her.

  She searched herself for fear, for the battered girl she had been.

  She was surprised to find pride instead. She was proud that this beast was her mate. Shadowed by the flickering sparks of his fire, he was glorious—bathed in victory and the power he had regained.

  The blood-covered dragon swerved its long, scaly neck. His shimmering eyes peered at her.

  She strolled up to him, her heart pounding not because of terror, but because of the other overwhelming emotions this man evoked in her.

  She hugged Rayse’s head—it was too large even for her whole arms—and rested her forehead on his scales.

  She let out a soft sigh, and the dragon did, too. And for a moment, they breathed in the same rhythm as a mated pair—as one.

  Epilogue

  Careful now,” Greta said, licking a freshly made greenish substance off a wooden ladle. “You don’t want to burn holes through that spell book staring at it too hard.”

  Constance relaxed her shoulders, only then realizing she had been hunching over her study material like a starved predator. She sat upright, then stretched. She angled herself toward Greta. It was her first day back at the clinic, and despite the chaos in the clan, Greta hadn’t changed. The old woman still had a few dozen screws loose.

  Constance cocked her head. “Greta, I’ve been meaning to ask…”

  The old lady raised an eyebrow. “Ask what?”

  “That spell you gave me… The one to break the bond with Rayse.”

  Greta sniffed and rubbed a hand over her nose. “Ah.”

  “It wasn’t what you said it was, was it?”

  “No.”

  Constance raised a questioning brow. “What was it, then?”

  “You’re not the first mate who has had trouble bonding with her male. It’s a spell to… aid… the process.”

  “How so?”

  “It creates a temporary fake bond, to stave off the dragon male for the time being.”

  A tightening circled around Constance’s heart. �
��But… but I was ready. For Rayse. The bond would have been forged regardless.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The spell takes precedence. It will wear off in a year or so—more than enough time to form trust. Then you can mate with him again and you will be a true pair.”

  Betrayal gnawed at her. She had fooled herself with her own magic. The thought of Rayse and her not having a true bond irked her. It probably hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things, but she wanted what they had to be real.

  “But I have a mark. Like Marzia.” She pulled up her sleeve.

  Greta waved her hand in a dismissive fashion. “It’s incomplete. Don’t worry about something not worth your time. It was a precaution. I didn’t want to lose our leader to something so frivolous.”

  “I… I feel like I’ve been robbed of something.”

  “Save the drama for something else.” Greta took another whiff of her green mixture. “Huh, I think I’ve accidentally created poison. Sickness is making me nauseated.”

  “You shouldn’t be putting strange liquids into your mouth.”

  “And you shouldn’t be this upset. Wait a year, then bond as you should. Nothing lost, but a precaution taken.”

  Constance swept away the sinking sensation. She let out a heavy breath and pulled her sleeve over her mark. How was she to tell Rayse this? Would he be disheartened like she was?

  It didn’t matter. She went back to studying. Her bond might have been faked, but her feelings weren’t—and she could trust Rayse felt the same way.

  Thank you for reading Obsidian Wings, the first book of the Soul of a Dragon series! I truly enjoyed writing this book, and fell in love with Rayse and Constance in the process, so I hope you enjoyed reading it, too. :) If you’re interested in knowing more about my writing, please visit my Facebook page below.

  www.facebook.com/ClaraHartleyBooks

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  Read on for a preview of Soul of a Dragon #1.5, Golden Embrace.