Chapter 23 Claeg
My guard was slipping. With each look, I fell a little more for his easy smiles and bright eyes. Despite our disagreement about my healing, the Ruptor craved him. But he had drawn a clear boundary, and I would respect that even though it killed me to refrain from uniting our bodies the way the Ruptor wanted to.
We explored the canyon for days. I admired him as he showed me every little nook and hiding spot within the stronghold. It didn’t even occur to me the power he was offering until one of the last nights before the trial. We sat across from each other over a fire. The embers twinkled a deep blue, the coals still hot despite the dwindling light. Out in the open desert, there was nothing but sand dunes for ages. The prince had created the fire from wood of unknown origin, summoning it with a foreign power that I didn’t understand. He used it often, twisting his fingers in beautiful patterns that entranced me. Sometimes he would whisper in a tongue I didn’t understand. I frowned as he did that now, the words seeming to coax life into the fire. When I opened my mouth to question him about it, he spoke first.
“Tell me about the Circulus.”
The request startled me, and my jaw snapped shut. I clenched my fists, thinking about everything I had left behind. I thought of Clotho, who had broken my Circle. I thought about Thana and the truth she had kept from the clan. I thought about my last few moments with Sivert. The betrayal and hurt in his voice.
“What do you want to know?” I asked, willing to indulge his muse.
“Tell me about your parents. What were they like?”
I had to suppress a wince. The picture of Tamela and Ercan filled my mind. My mother and her bravery in facing the completion of her Circle. And then Ercan, the man who’d fought his own clan, who gave up his own Circle for love. Tamela had still been weak. She had still died, and he had dishonored her. Why out of everything he could have asked, did he have to ask that? I almost didn’t answer, but then I felt that familiar pulling sensation. The one that threatened to reveal my purpose. Already Anastasius had plucked roots out of the ground, discovering things about me I had intended to keep hidden.
“There isn’t much to tell. I completed Tamela’s Circle a long time ago.” I shrugged, staring down at the roaring fire; the heat of the prince’s gaze was more intense. That answer wouldn’t be enough. I sighed. “She was beautiful. Beautiful and kind. Clotho and her were close. Inseparable, really. They would fly together for hours after spending the day fighting and learning the ways of a Janardan. My sister adored her. Everyone did. Our mother was so strong.”
Anastasius hummed, content to listen to me.
“When I was a babe, she taught me to shift, to fly, by dropping me over the ocean.” I snorted at the memory. “Father was furious, but she just shrugged and stated if I couldn’t save myself I wasn’t worthy of the Circulus. I will never forget the freedom and the fear of that first flight.”
“Who taught your sister to fly?” Anastasius asked.
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth at the memory. “I did.”
Anastasius had a light in his eyes and a soft smile that was easy to return. “How?”
“I took her deep within the Neutral Strip and left her there. I told her if she didn’t fly home soon, the De Vita would Save her. A few days later, she returned, thanked me, and we haven’t spoken of it since.” The experience had lit a fire in her eyes that still burned. Anastasius was quiet after that. I glanced at his face to see if he was upset, but his eyes were distant, unseeing. I felt the need to defend our customs. “We survived, and we’re stronger for it.”
“I see that,” the prince grunted. He stretched out by the fire, laying his head down on a bundle of clothes. He closed his eyes without another word. I was stunned by his change in mood. The story wasn’t a rare one in the Circulus. It was our way of life: we constantly tested ourselves to ensure we were strong enough to continue our Circle. I huffed and laid down. His brooding stirred feelings within me that I didn’t understand and thoughts I was too cowardly to acknowledge.
At dusk on the last day before the second trial, Anastasius invited me to fly with him again. Neither Calian nor his minions had followed us since that day in the infirmary, and I still hadn’t bothered to ask why. To do so felt like tempting fate. So I appreciated the freedom in silence.
The sun was sinking beyond the dunes of the Sand Eye, becoming a distant star. The dying light mesmerized me as it reflected off his scales. For once, I was entranced not by the color of blood calling to me in the sky but the black calm that was him. I soaked in everything about him. If I could grin in draconis, I would, but instead I released a satisfied rumble.
We flew side by side over the rolling sand dunes for hours. When the sun was hidden, we approached the shoreline of an endless ocean. The waves lapped at the sandy shore, gentle compared to the crashing anger of the ocean back home. Anastasius landed on the beach, and I dropped next to him, snorting my question: what are we doing?
He brought his snout to mine, breathing my scent in deeply and washing me in his. Even in draconis he smelled of spice and sunshine. It was intoxicating. Intimate. A purr rumbled in his chest, making my heart race. I wanted to make more sounds like that come from him. I brushed my snout along his jaw, traveling along his neck until my head was settled between his wings. His scales were so warm, relaxing the tension in my spine. My breaths fell into a soothing lull, matching his. In my hazy state, my eyes slipped closed as the sounds of the ocean swept back and forth over us, the waves brushing our talons with kisses and sand. Pure bliss.
I opened my eyes when Anastasius adjusted his position slightly and yawned. A few thoughts hit me all at once: I hadn’t had any nightmares. We were in draconis, and my neck was vulnerable. The last thought didn’t alarm me as it should have, which frightened me. Draconis didn’t expose their necks to anyone. Ever. Not even their Entwined. Yet I had, and again it felt… right. I gently pulled away from the warm and comfortable crook of Anastasius' neck.
He yawned sleepily before giving me a goofy look that almost appeared to be a smile. He nuzzled my jaw with his snout before spreading his claws in a big stretch. I blinked at him, stunned by the casual interaction. Slowly, I followed his lead and stretched next to him. Our wingtips brushed, jolting me with excitement despite having just been in an intimate embrace all night. Eventually, after sharing a fish we caught, we took to the skies to return to the De Vita and complete the trial. I still had no idea what to expect, but I would pass.
I flew behind the prince on our return to De Vita, enjoying the view of his grand wing arches, silver-tipped talons, and muscled form. Mine. The single thought banished all my worries. I didn’t care what I had to do to make it so, but I would do it. I would tell Anastasius the truth and risk his hatred.
When we arrived at the stronghold the castle was devoid of outward activity, the guards normally stationed at the entrance gone. Anastasius seemed to register the change and darted for his balcony. Upon landing, he shifted, making room for me to do the same. Once my draconis was banished, I opened my mouth to voice the feelings stirring within me, but the prince spoke first.
“Do not speak of what happened last night to anyone,” he whispered urgently. “I cannot stand the thought of being separated from you again, or of Calian lurking around every corner again.” I furrowed my brows. His eyes appeared moonless, their pale centers impossibly dark. “I have to go. Someone will bring you food and something to wear. Rohit will collect you when it is time for the trial.” He strode out of the room before I could question him or make any of my declarations.
An hour later, I hadn’t eaten anything that the fledgling had brought, but I had donned the new outfit allotted to me. It was nearly identical to the garb from the first trial. My fingers graced the burn on my neck, which had all but healed over the last few weeks.
A knock at the door made me jerk my eyes up. A man finely dressed in light armor stepped into the room. He had a burst of fiery red hair and stubble along his jaw. His green eyes narrowed, and we studied each other silently for a moment. “Glad to see you are healing well, Ruptor.” He dropped my title, making my stomach fall and my eyes widen. My fists clenched at my sides, prepared to fight. He waved a hand. “Be at peace, Claeg. You have nothing to fear from me.”
I didn’t relax. “You know who I am.”
“I do.”
I cursed. My gut clenched at the thought.
“How did you find out?” I asked, refusing to answer the obvious but unvoiced question. The man folded his arms and refused my question. Fair.
“If you hurt him . . .” He trailed off, but the threat was clear.
“You’ll what? What can you do that they haven’t already done to me? I have lost everything,” I growled, taking a menacing step toward him. I wasn’t armed, but that didn’t matter. My body was a weapon. He chuckled darkly.
“You’ve lost nothing, Ruptor.” I stilled. A challenge burned in his eyes. Did he suspect my purpose? “Don’t cross us, Circulus. You will regret it.” Us. There was something there. This man obviously had strong feelings for his prince. Jealousy flared in my belly. “Come, Ruptor.”
“I don’t know your name.” And you know mine, I added silently.
“I am Rohit,” he said simply and whirled out of the room without checking to see if I followed.
He brought me to a room I hadn’t seen much of, just a brief glimpse—the throne room. Today, it was crammed with people, all wearing extravagant outfits with colors that I thought were only available in the Circulus territory and Neutral Strip. It seemed unlikely that fancy dyes were what they were after outside their borders. Especially after recalling the discussion I had overheard between Anastasius and the old draconis—they hunted for a who, not a what, of that I was nearly certain. But not everything De Vita did made sense. Odon was unpredictable—a form of strength I was forced to respect.
Rohit marched right up to the front of the room, where Anastasius and Odon were seated in cushioned thrones made of fine metals. The pair were dressed alike, in dark green silks, but their differences couldn’t be more obvious. If I hadn’t known better, I would think they weren’t of each other’s blood. Anastasius’ long, dark hair was wrapped around his head in a beautiful imitation of a dias, unlike Odon’s, whose light hair was cropped short to his scalp under a crown of teeth. The prince’s eyes were dark, a contrast to Odon’s, which were amber. Neither had weapons visible on them, but guards flanked their sides. I doubted it was a necessary precaution. The people here looked at the father and son with adoration in their eyes. I surveyed the room, spotting Janus and Oriana kneeling before Odon. The third woman was nowhere to be seen. Odon’s eyes scrutinized me. Had Rohit told him I wasn’t Eleos but rather Claeg?
As I approached the thrones, the prince refused to meet my eye, but Odon glared at me openly. Slowly, I lowered myself to my knees before them, maintaining eye contact with De Vita. He lifted his lip, bearing his teeth in a warning. It took everything in me not to reciprocate the gesture.
“Welcome, my children. Today is the second traditional trial the Selected will partake in to Prune the weak before Anastasius is presented with his Chosen. Where there were once four: Oriana, Janus, Aurora, and Eleos, now there are three,” Odon bellowed. Cheers echoed from the crowd. I wasn’t deluded to think any of them were for me.
“The Selected have shown that they are strong. The second trial will test not just their strength, but their wit. Those who have a balance of both virtues will be declared the winners. The goal is to demonstrate your superior strength and knowledge. I trust the three of you have chosen a question and an answer to give to my son. Janus, please provide your riddle and answer.” Janus stood and approached the thrones, no sign of weakness present from the arrow which had pierced her shoulder a moon turn ago. From a pocket she produced one of those thin sheets of bark. On it were symbols I didn’t understand. My eyes flew wide open, my heart in my throat. I only knew of one riddle.
Odon and Anastasius studied the thin offering before setting it aside. “Oriana, Eleos, choose your weapon and prepare to fight.” Odon gestured to the side where Hariasa and Calian stood behind a table of weapons. I frowned, looking to the prince for clarification. He gave a small smile and a nod like we shared a secret. . I swallowed my worries and followed the redhead to choose a weapon. On the table I found an assortment of daggers, longswords, maces, lances, and axes. I instinctively grabbed a longsword. The length wasn’t like those of the Circulus, and the weight wasn’t balanced the same, but that was fine. I could adapt. Oriana chose a matching weapon with a wicked grin.
“Selected, please find your positions before the throne.” Anastasius opened his arms, which were lined with an assortment of scars. He wore them like teeth in a proud smile. .
Oriana weighed the sword between her palms, adjusting with ease before falling into a typical defensive stance. I matched her with one variation: I placed my weapon in the opposite hand, starting with the opposite side to throw her off. As Circulus, favoring one side or another wasn’t allowed. She raised a fine eyebrow, her hard features becoming impossibly colder as she sneered and matched my handwork. I smiled at her. Revealing to an opponent that you could use either hand was a mistake. Right now, she may assume I relied on my left hand. During a fight, any assumption could be deadly.
“When each of you has given a final answer to the riddle, you will stop the fight. Until then, presume you are to fight to the Saving,” Odon said cryptically. There was no time to question him. He waved a hand at us. “You may begin.”
Oriana immediately began to circle me, and I carefully eyed her every movement, matching her like an echo. She watched me as a predator would its prey. Thank the gods of the De Vita my wounds had mostly healed. My hands no longer burned just grasping the weapon. Still, I saw her eye them, looking to use the weakness. She wouldn’t get the chance.
There was silence, a bated breath. The prince stood, drawing my eye. A mistake. Oriana attacked. She lunged low, the sword following her line of sight. I quickly dashed to the side, narrowly avoiding being impaled on her weapon. Whirling on my toes, I counterattacked, slashing at her outstretched arm. It made contact, tearing through her white sleeve and staining it red. It was too easy. She hissed, eyes livid. I smirked at her, and she spat. In the Circulus, drawing blood meant the completion of our Circle. We didn’t try to avoid it. Instead, we relentlessly sought to exterminate those who bled from the nick of a blade. Now, after centuries of Pruning, we were resilient to simple things such as scratches.
“The riddle is this: One has unseen power while the other one has muscles. One has wealth while the other is wealthy. One has unlimited resources, and the other has one and with it them all. One hunts the secrets of the other land while the other is blind. So what creates the difference between De Vita and Circulus?” Anastasius spoke the riddle as Oriana pursued me steadily across the floor. Her attacks were relentless, and it took all my attention just to evade her.
What was the difference between the two clans? The obvious answer was our beliefs. De Vita hoarded life and disrespected death. But that couldn’t be the answer. I feared the solution was the answer I had been sent to find. I thought back to all the odd happenings since I had arrived: Anastasius disappearing and appearing, the dancing fingers, the symbols inked onto oddly shaped leaves. The Circulus had everything we could need within our rich territory, but De Vita had more despite their desolate land and lack of resources.
I ducked a swing aimed at my head, the weapon hissing above me. I struck low. Missed. Oriana danced away from reach.
“Got an answer yet, traitor? I could do this all day!” she exclaimed, feigning a yawn. I growled at her and lunged, she parried my thrust, pushing me off of her.
I performed the dance of thrusting, parrying, and countering over and over. All the while I contemplated the riddle. The answer seemed too easy—power, one that I couldn’t put words to or begin to comprehend. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the crowd raptly watching every move. If they hoped Oriana would cut me down, they would be sorely disappointed. She managed to strike my flesh a couple of times, but each time my body refused to surrender its blood to her blade, causing her to stamp her feet and huff. I snorted. Our blades met with a loud clash, locking us together. Oriana snarled at me, our heads close enough that I could feel her breath. My eyes flicked to the prince. He was watching with just as much interest as everyone else in the room. His words came to mind. Every test has a shortcut. A loophole. I smiled at Oriana, baring my teeth as my foot slammed down on top of hers. She jolted back, the pressure on my blade lessening enough for me to throw her off. As she stumbled back, I kicked behind her knees, making them give out.
The rest of the fight happened in a blur. Her grip on the longsword faltered enough that with a strong whack with my elbow it clattered to the side. Suddenly, my dagger was at her throat while she knelt before me.
“Got an answer yet, bitch? Cause I could do this all day, but I'm getting bored.” To emphasize the point, I drew a little blood. The Ruptor preened at finally being released from its forced submission. The red liquid spilled quickly. Easily. She swallowed, her eyes flaring with hatred. I gave her the smirk of the Ruptor who had found his enemy’s weakness.
“Bastard,” she said, her eyes livid. I pressed the blade a little harder, reminding her of my power and showing her that I knew. Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to reveal the answer first, but I was faster.
“The answer is magic,” I announced.
I smirked and withdrew my blade, turning my back on my opponent. “My answer is also magic,” Oriana hissed. Murmuring erupted from the crowd as I returned my bloodied weapon to Hariasa and Calian. The red stain that marked the edge of the blade pleased me. I turned toward Anastasius for further instructions. A ghost of a smile haunted his expression.
“You cannot allow this!” Oriana screeched above the clamor of the crowd. Odon held up a hand to silence her. She slammed her mouth shut and took a step back, mumbling something that sounded like an apology. The De Vita leader turned toward me.
“Eleos, please give your written riddle to my son,” Odon boomed, the gathered De Vita instantly quieting. I stared at Anastasius as I approached, my heart pounding faster than when I was fighting. My mind scrambled to comprehend the task requested of me—to provide a written riddle. I came up with nothing. I wouldn’t fake understanding and make a fool of myself. Instead, I brought myself to the prince’s feet and prayed for mercy.