Chapter 8 Myla
Chapter Eight: Myla
The dragon fields smell of sulfur and death.
Piles of charred remains litter the lush emerald-green grass, and I have no idea if they are animals unlucky enough to be caught in a dragons’ quarrel or the remnants of fae ordered to their deaths by my father.
Some of those fae undoubtedly deserved their fiery end—there is no shortage of vile beings in this kingdom.
Yet some I knew had committed the most minor of infractions, stealing food to feed their families or medicine to rid a persistent sickness.
Because those things took money from vendors which in turn took money from the king, all who were caught received the maximum punishment: death by dragon fire.
Scorched earth surrounds the bundles of singed bones, some of them still lit with lingering embers.
I keep to the outskirts of the fields, hidden within the treeline as I dart around the evergreens and pines.
I’m under no illusion that I’m invisible to the dragons, my scent is one they can smell on the wind.
Still, walking out into the open field is not only the equivalent of asking a dragon to burn me to ash but also stupid, as a dragon rider might spot me from above.
Bonding a dragon is essential to my plan, and it would be a real fucking shame to die before that happens.
My palms slide against the rough bark of a pine tree, dirt from traversing the mountain tunnels to get here caked over them along with the dried blood of the male I visited prior.
Looking to the east, I blow out a startled breath at the small sliver of sun already rising over the horizon.
I swear it hadn’t taken long for Dagan, my poor subject of the evening, to drunkenly stumble from the tavern he loved to frequent.
He was as most of the males of this city are—power hungry, angry, and stupid.
Instead of channeling that energy into anything productive, he took his aggressions out on his wife.
Nightly, and often to the point of knocking her unconscious. Or so my informant told me.
Moving into a run, I finally reach the mountainous edge of the dragon fields, a burning pile of something nearby casting a golden glow over the rocky cave in front of me.
The Fae Kingdom is built in and surrounded by mountains, the horizon littered with black peaks and hazy mist. One might think us vulnerable in such open terrain.
What is mist compared to the cover of thickly woven trees or miles of ocean?
The mist isn’t meant to protect us, however.
The dragons are, and no other kingdom can lay claim to the beasts but the fae.
I let out a low whistle in warning, prowling forward towards the mountain front.
The ends of my hair brush against my shoulders at the hot breeze that blows from the opening, the smell of burnt carrion making my nose crinkle.
Just one of her luminous yellow eyes is visible at first against the impossible darkness behind her.
Then her head swivels, hard black scales glistening as she emerges from the mouth of the cave, shrewd gaze landing on me.
The ground beneath my boots rumbles with the impact of her steps, her massive size blocking my field of vision entirely.
With a head larger than my own body and a wingspan that would stretch past ten lengths of me, Bali is the largest of her dragonkind, as those of the Khar line are.
Her tail—the end tipped in a trio of spikes the size of my forearm—lifts high behind her while she lowers her head down, the serpentine movements of her neck making my stomach hollow as she assesses whether she’s in the mood to humor or cook me.
“Bali,” I offer by way of greeting, forcing my voice to be loud but steady while I straighten my spine a little more.
The fine hairs on my arms lift as she emits a noise that sounds like rolling thunder, the vibration of it rattling my skull.
Behind her, a slightly higher-pitched growl answers as it reverberates off the surrounding rock.
Bali snarls at me, her four canines showcasing the blood that still stains them from her last meal.
The tip of her snout skims over me as she blows out through her nostrils, ruffling her leathery wings in tandem at her sides.
The blood from Dagan is still speckled over my clothing, likely what draws the dragon’s attention.
A deeper sound rumbles from her as she lifts her head and opens her mouth wide, revealing the molten dragon flame balled at the base of her throat.
It churns in a beautiful display of vivid red, orange, and golden yellow, the colors as hypnotizing as they are fear inducing.
She blows out a singeing breath that forces me to close my eyes and turn my head.
Sweat glides down my body beneath my black leathers, but I keep my feet rooted to the ground as I endure her display of dominance. Or rather, her test of my own.
Dragons are loyal creatures by nature, and bonding them to a rider only magnifies that loyalty.
Before The War Of Five Kingdoms, a bond between dragon and rider was only severed when the rider died, as a fae’s lifespan is less than half of a dragon’s, or when a dragon willfully ended it.
However, in the centuries that have passed, the connection between these ferocious beasts and the fae have faltered.
Growing more common are instances of bonds nearly as old as the war itself fading away until there is nothing that remains.
When a rider loses their bond, it’s devastating. When a dragon loses a bond and the severing isn’t enacted by them, it can drive the beast mad. Most will choose a new rider to bond with because of it.
Bali finally extinguishes the swirling flame and closes her mouth.
I observe her as she stares at me, seeing just enough of her outline in the growing early morning light to make out the massive pointed horns on the top of her head.
They’re surrounded by smaller ones of different heights and thicknesses, the diamond-shaped scales covering her iridescently black.
The Khar line possesses a fearsome blend of brute strength and cocky bravery.
The color and shape of their scales are unique to this line, and while most dragons tend to be a mix of two different lines, Bali remains one of only a few dragons alive whose line is completely pure.
I glance to the east again, my heart rate kicking up at how little time I have left to spend here.
Fuck. I should already be home. But if I, a female, want to bond with a dragon—a feat that has never been accomplished in our history—then I have to spend as much time here as I can.
Especially as my bargain with the siren begins this week.
Annoyance is a tight knot in my throat, but I force it down roughly.
There is no time to ruminate on that now.
Bali turns to stalk away, her tail swinging harshly enough behind her to send a small gust of air towards me in a warning. With my view of the cave once more unobstructed, I focus in on the second set of glowing eyes that appear in the opening.
It has taken years of coming here for Bali to only threaten me partially—though I wonder if that is a courtesy she extends to me simply because of who I am related to.
Her former rider, my older brother, Shah, was murdered in the war, and though Bali could have no way of knowing I am his younger sister, I sometimes wonder if she can sense it.
Whether through the scent of my blood or some other mystical means, she hasn’t acted nearly as aggressive with me as she has with anyone else who happens to wander into the dragon fields.
My brother was the kingdom’s darling, a crown prince everyone was honored to have and proud to know.
My parents still celebrate his birthday every year as if he hasn’t missed the past two hundred of them.
His death did more than just devastate our parents; it changed the course of the kingdom nearly more than the war had.
A century later and against all odds, my mother became pregnant, and there was reason to celebrate again.
Until my birth was deemed not a blessing by the gods but an omen.
A punishment, the brethren of the church declared.
The sound of rustling leather wings echoes as the smaller black dragon, Bali’s spitting image in every way but size for now, steps out onto the rocky ground.
She flares her wings out, a satisfied whine pushing past her sharp teeth at the stretch before they snap back in.
I take a step closer to her, those brilliant eyes looking at me curiously.
The horns that adorn her scales are only barely starting to sharpen, but despite her young age, she is just as deadly as her mother to a fae.
Sunis is still a fucking dragon, after all.
To name her already without a bond between us is foolish.
Despite how my father and the brethren of the church might disagree, I try very hard to be anything but foolish.
I had chosen Bali’s offspring to attempt bonding with purely because it seemed like the most practical choice.
Shah had bonded with Bali, and Bali didn’t incinerate me the moment I stood outside of her home for the first time.
As far as naming her, well, I thought I might try being optimistic about something in my gods-cursed life.
So far, that optimism has gotten me nowhere.
She lowers her head until my hand meets the smooth scales on her nose.
Hot air blasts past me through her nostrils as one of her green-tinged eyes meets mine.
The bonding process with a dragon is kept secret, not spoken about outside of the circles of males who are already bound.
From my brother, Navin—a male who enjoys breaking from tradition and, above all, gossiping—I’ve learned that bonding doesn’t necessarily give dragons the ability to speak to their rider.
Instead, it builds a mental pathway between them so that they can understand each other’s emotions and intentions.
Staring at Sunis now, I wonder if my time spent coming here almost daily for the past few years is finally beginning to pay off.
Grinding my teeth together, I drag my hand up the side of her face, searching for what Navin had annoyingly called the bonding tingle. “Let today be the day.” I close my eyes and steady my hand, my heart thundering in my chest.
Sunis chuffs before bumping her enormous head into me and knocking me to the ground.
I let out a growl as my eyes open, the fucking dragon answering it with a much louder one of her own before she turns and trots onto the dragon field.
With a groan, I roll onto my stomach and push up to stand, brushing myself off.
Lifting the hood attached to my cloak, I fix it over my head and then tug my mask up to cover the bottom half of my face.
I wait until Sunis and Bali take flight, likely off to go hunt, before I turn, and race home against the incoming daylight.