53. Chapter 53
fifty-three
Rodi
S omehow, between the lines, the breaths, a deal has been struck and our safety is within our grasp. There’s a change in the wind, a beacon of hope in the near distance.
Or perhaps it’s a false sense of safety, a fa?ade as we dine with Taron and his Warden in a large dining hall with tall ceilings, multiple sconces on the stone walls, and platters full of steaming hot food.
Grilled meats, steamed vegetables, and freshly baked breads are brought in as I sit between Ares and Ethan on a hard wooden bench, wondering where Ripley is…
Caution is within us. As the food is placed on the thick stone table, we wait for another shifter or rider to take a bite. Murmurs surrounds us as others talk about the fight ahead or about us. They aren’t too shy to stare our way.
I would feel more at ease if… “When is Ripley joining us?” I ask as my gaze sweeps to Taron.
He leans forward, taking a piece of bread in his hands as the steam still floats above it.
“Ripley” —he huffs— “has disobeyed me. He won’t be joining us.”
The bread crumbles as he breaks it in half, dipping one side in some red sauce before taking a bite.
“He saved me, helped us. He should be here.” No order laces my words, but my intent is clear.
His wooden chair scratches over the floor as he slumps back, his jaw moving as he eats his sauced bread.
“I realize he disobeyed your order to kill us on sight,” I start, and Ares’ and Ethan’s heads whip in my direction. “However, correct me if I’m wrong. He is my Sentinel. His loyalty is mine, is it not?”
“His loyalty is with his species. Being your Sentinel means nothing, as it was done to create an opportunity.”
“One he chose not to take, while he did take on his role as my Sentinel, protecting me from danger.”
His jaw sets as his pupils flick to slits. “It means nothing.”
“I’ve read, but again, tell me if I’m mistaken, that Vermyllion Drakes are the most protective and loyal of dragons to their riders.”
“That’s true, but you aren’t his rider.”
A smile threats to curve on my lips. “I know, but what is said about an unbonded dragon and rider within the Vermyllion Drakes?”
His face turns stoic as he takes a slow breath. “You’ve ridden him?”
I smile. “Yes, and I know what that means. ”
I might not have the education most riders have, but I do remember what I’ve read about how sacred the bond between rider and dragon is, especially for the Vermyllion Drakes. How if an unbonded pair joins, they aren’t allowed to part until both have found their mate.
I have mine, but Ripley remains mateless. Meaning…
“So, I ask again. When is Ripley joining us?”
A sharp huff and a silent nod to his Warden are all I get, but I know I’ve won.
“Why, though?” he asks.
“He protected me when I needed it the most, and he deserves the same,” I state without any quavering in my voice. Things may be tense between me and Ripley at times because of his anger toward Ares, but he has never betrayed me. He has continued to fight for me and help me.
I won’t ever forget that.
The annoyance or anger simmers as a sly grin forms on his lips. A smile I recognize.
“You don’t seem to mind too much that he gets to live another day,” I say.
“It’s always a shame to see a healthy, strong Drake die, so yes, even if this goes against my order, the law stands, and he may live. He can stay with you until he finds his rider, or joins .”
My brows twitch as I try to understand what he means by joins . Not the joining between rider and dragon, but rather the joining between mates. I haven’t read enough about the Vermyllion Drakes, nothing at all, really. Only the part about the sacred bond of riding.
I grip my glass, swirling the black liquid inside, and press my lips to the rim, inhaling the scents of blackberries and some other sweet fruits before tilting the glass and letting the drink move over my tongue .
As I set it down, savoring the taste of berries, my gaze wanders around, lingering on the necks of the dragons and riders until I see multiple scars on their skin, even a glimmer in some.
And then the pieces fall into place.
Vermyllion Drakes mate in harems.
“To help us rebuild our species, to mix strong bloodlines, and to ensure that when one mate dies, the other half remains, but now, it’s become a part of our culture,” Taron explains.
We may all be dragon shifters or riders, but we live life so differently. Our culture. Our homes. Our rules.
But at the end of the day, there are times when we must come together and become one. This is one of those times.
After dinner, Ares, Ethan, and I are led to a large torch-lit room with stone walls stocked with armor, supplies, and even weapons. Everything needed for war.
“You may not be one of us, but it’s best not to risk your dying in battle. This should help,” the dragon shifter states, nodding to a few of his helpers, who carry over dark armor to each of us after retrieving them from wooden chests and shelves on the walls.
Armor meant for Vermyllion Drakes.
I run my fingers over the tough, sturdy chest piece, which is meant to limit the damage done by blows or even hard falls. The sleeves are fire resistant, while the gloves are leather, meant for tight grips.
“It’s incredible,” I find myself saying as I admire the specific details of the material and design.
“We’ve had some time and reason to improve our defenses,” the armor smith states, his eyes glancing off Ares as he puts on the gear. “Armor is only a small piece of the battle. It’ll help you on the ground, but once you shift and go up into the sky, that’s a whole other war. Different rules. More damage.”
Ares subtly nods a thanks once he’s dressed. “We’re winning this fight. Neither of us can risk losing.”
Ethan helps with the ties of my shoulder pieces, sharing a small, determined smile with me.
The armor smith nods and gestures to the door. “Ripley is outside on the balcony.”
My chest tightens as I follow Ethan and Ares outside where Ripley is indeed waiting, watching the gray skies with a grim look on his face. I’m glad he’s okay, but how long will we all be okay for?
What if one of us doesn’t make it? The thought crushes my heart, stealing the breath from my lungs. I can barely handle the thought of losing any of them. Even losing Ripley would pain me.
Ripley turns and nods to us as we join him.
We’re waiting for what we know is coming. The coldness in the air, the whispers the wind brings, and the wyverns flying in the distance, building in numbers with their eyes set on us.
Ripley stares out, leaning against the stone banister. “It’s happening,” he murmurs.
“Now?” Ethan asks, adjusting the straps on his arms.
“Another war, another loss.” Ripley sighs, and my ribs tighten.
“Not your war… Ours,” I say and glance at Ares.
“We have to stop him, destroy him. That’s what will keep your species safe,” Ares says.
“If we stayed at Vealthor—” Ripley starts.
“Then what?” A strong voice cuts through the air, and we all turn, staring at Taron as he holds an open letter in his hand .
“You didn’t bring him here,” he says. He waves the letter. “This was sent two weeks ago.”
“He was already coming?” Ripley asks.
He gives a stiff nod. “This isn’t the first one. He asked us for help against Ares, but we declined, not believing we could win. Then, when he died, or at least we all thought he died, we saw the ramifications, the action where the same was done to our species and we knew he wasn’t going to stop.”
Ripley crosses over to him, taking the letter as his gaze follows the words and Taron continues, “Another letter came, and another. First with deals. He knew about our mating culture and wanted a Vermyllion rider beside him. Again, we declined. Then the threats came, the small attacks on our borders by the mountains. And now he’s coming here as we never responded to his attacks.” He sighs. “He doesn’t know you’re all here, as he always intended to come here after his visit to Fangar.”
My brows pinch as Ripley tosses the letter back. “Why tell us this?” I ask.
“There has to be some trust when a deal has been struck.” Taron stares into my soul before it flickers to Ares and Ethan. “This is it, the moment you can change the future and stop this loop of destruction.”
“I will. I gave you my word,” Ares says.
“For the battle, isn’t it wise if we restore our bond?” I ask, as it has been nagging at my insides now that I know multiple mates aren’t impossible.
“You can’t,” Taron says.
Ares’ shoulders drop. “Hephaestus used magic and weakened me so he could mark you over my claim. But because of my weakness, my claim faded. I can’t do the same until he’s in the same spot, close to death.”
“Every mate has their own spot on someone’s soul to claim. If Ares would mark you on another spot, it won’t create the same bond. Neither can he reclaim the same spot as Hephaestus’s claim stands strong,” Taron explains further .
“With us, if two dragons lay claim on the same placement, they either walk away or a challenge is made,” Ripley ads.
Their words swirl in my mind as the sounds from outside distract me. But here, in this room, there’s a calmness before the storm. A moment that reaches my soul until this unease settles as Ares throws a simple nod at Taron.
Guards move inside, and I crawl back against Ethan as Ares moves toward Taron.
“What’s happening?” I yell the question at Ares as he keeps his eyes down.
“He doesn’t want us at the battle,” Ripley says, and Ares shoots a warning look.
“I need you two to be safe. I can’t fight Hephaestus if I worry about your safety. This is for the best,” he says and glances between us once more before he turns and leaves the room.
My chest heaves as my anger bubbles inside me. Gripping my power as quickly as I can, I take a sharp breath, ready to spit my order. But before my lips part, a hand is placed over my lips by the Warden, a smug smile tugging on his lips.
“Not so fast, little Draconis.”
I struggle in his grip, and Ethan tosses himself forward, but chains are tossed over him and his body slumps to the ground.
Ripley stays frozen beside me, his stare throwing daggers at Taron.
“Just go quietly. Don’t let us use these spelled chains on you too… Son.”