Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
SERAFINA
Sleep eluded me. I paced the length of my bedroom, dry and dressed again despite Thorne’s abuse. What the hell had come over him tonight?
Secrets. Secrets. So many secrets. I was tired of the secrets. Was there anybody I could trust?
Sebastian kept pace at my side, dodging my footsteps when I changed directions.
Alaric wasn’t merely a dragon, but a cursed shifter. Forced to remain in his beast form. In my mind, that made him a man. Not a wounded animal, as I was led to believe. He was a man with intellect, mortal desires, and a conscience.
And he’d chosen to deceive me. My heart twisted at the thought.
And then there was Thorne.
Flarking Thorne.
The dusting of scales across his shoulders, the fire he breathed, those unnervingly perfect features. Though he hadn’t admitted it, I was certain he was a shifter too. A Draconis, like Alaric. Likely related. Was anything they’d told me the truth?’
And then there was this place, this hidden kingdom under the mountain. The two of them had been here before. I was sure of it.
Did they think I was too simple to uncover their ruse? A former slave who would fall at their feet, willing to believe any tall tale they spun?
In a short time, they’d learned a lot about me. It was only fair that I knew the same about them.
From the moment I woke in this place, Alaric and Thorne held all the power. They claimed my life belonged to the dragon—dictating where I could go, what I could do.
Well, no more.
I was done playing by their rules.
“Come on, Sebastian.” I slipped into the corridor outside my bedroom, my furry partner close at my side. My ears twitched, picking up little but the harsh sound of my own breathing. With any luck, everyone was asleep at this hour.
Solar crystals glowed from the walls and ceiling, illuminating my path.
Mystical objects that would have been banned among the Puritans.
The idea this place existed mere miles from our village would have thrown them into hysterics.
I pried one of them from the wall to use during my search, tucking it into the pocket of my borrowed pants.
On silent feet, I slipped down the hallway, headed into the unseen depths of the castle.
Broken statues littered the floor. I paused next to one. In the pile of rubble was a shattered bust, a stone crown resting on its fractured head. Half of his face was missing. I smoothed my finger along his cheek, the set of his eyes somehow familiar.
A prickle ran down my neck, gooseflesh chasing up my arms. The sense I was being watched pressed down on me. I rose to my feet, dusted my hands, and glanced behind me.
Nothing stirred.
Who knew how many lost souls lingered in these hallways?
Better keep moving. I continued down the corridor, carefully stepping over the skeletal remains of some poor soul. What could have happened here to have caused so much death and destruction?
An image of my own village flickered through my mind, and I quickened my pace, cautious not to disturb the dead. Finally, I came upon a set of massive doors. One hung drunkenly on its heavy hinges.
“What do you suppose is in here?” I asked Sebastian.
“Mew,” he answered, eyes round.
“Let’s take a look, shall we?” I slipped through the gap and froze.
Awe stole my breath. Shelves of books several stories high spanned the walls.
This library was further proof that this lost empire was a wealthy one.
I found few books the Puritans deemed appropriate for reading.
Those treasured items, the high ruler kept in his private collection.
Fortunately, Yaga had a few in her hidden stash and insisted I learn how to read.
For the most part, her volumes were innocent, containing information about herbal remedies.
All but one. That one rare gem spoke of magic.
Even that singular book would have seen Yaga banished from the village, never to return.
While the books here claimed my interest, I couldn’t ignore the tapestry that hung on the wall. In one, a youthful king sat on his throne, his royal face expressionless. However, it wasn’t the king who made me gasp. It was the throne carved into the base of a massive tree.
A sacred arbor.
“Sebastian.” My breath caught. “Do you know what this means?”
“Mew.” He tilted his head.
“This lost kingdom was once part of the Arbor Realms.” I’d read about them in Yaga’s forbidden book.
Unimpressed, Sebastian leapt onto a nearby podium, plopping his furry butt on an open text, cleaning his paw.
From Yaga’s secret stash, I knew there were only a handful of sacred arbors left in the world.
Each tree had a powerful protector. A king or queen who sat on the living throne, channeling obsidian, the lifeblood of all magic, to their lands.
That magic spread to their people. Magical people.
Like shifters, witches, mages, faeries.. . All with incredible gifts.
Alaric’s tale of Carcerem had been one such kingdom. Its arbor was twisted under a corrupt ruler, its magic poisoned. Alaric had been captured and imprisoned there. Until a new ruler came along to free the citizens.
Except, the land Nefarr rested upon held no magic. That was why the Puritans made their home here long ago.
I moved to stand at Sebastian’s side, rubbing his ears. “What happened to the tree?”
Sebastian shoved his silky head into my hand, prancing across the dusty pages, leaving cute little footprints.
I glanced closer at the pages. Why was this text above all others placed on a podium?
Was it special in some way, or was some long-ago scholar forced to leave it behind when the castle was attacked?
I leaned closer and blew the dust off.
Sebastian objected with an irritated sneeze before jumping away.
I extracted the glowing crystal from my pocket and held it above the pages.
The passage described the origins of a powerful demon—of fire, chains, and suffering.
Unease prickled my skin. I flipped through numerous chapters, each cataloging a different demon species.
Whoever it was that opened this book was into some scary stuff.
“What is this?” I trailed my fingers over a ragged seam. Several of the pages were missing.
“Mew!”
I sucked a breath, startled half out of my skin. “Dang it, Sebastian. Are you trying to stop my heart?” Casting one last glance around the room, I uttered, “Let’s get out of here. This place is giving me the creeps.”
My partner was all too eager to agree. We slipped through the broken entrance and continued down the hallway.
Just a short distance from the library, we came to an ornate set of doors, these in slightly better shape.
“Let’s check it out,” I whispered, turning the doorknob.
Inside, I discovered what I assumed was a royal sitting room. Scattered around the space were several settees, the upholstery rotted and spotted with mold. Crumbling stone littered what was once a priceless rug. It crunched under my feet as I moved deeper into the chamber.
On one wall was a large fireplace, long gone cold.
Above it was a massive painting, the surface cloudy with dust. I drew closer, narrowing my eyes, lifting the stolen crystal higher.
It was yet another likeness of the king on his throne.
Only in this image, he wasn’t alone. Beside him stood a man with his elbow resting on the king’s shoulder, foot propped on his heel.
His was a cocky pose, whereas the king sat with a stiffened spine. Could they be brothers?
While the painting was unremarkable, I found the jeweled dagger sticking out of the second man’s slashed face fascinating. Did it happen during the attack? Before or after? Had the siblings had an argument?
Again, I studied the image of the king, this one clearer than the one on the tapestry. His emerald-green eyes were strikingly familiar. My breath caught. “Could it be?” I whispered.
The sound of crunching stones hit my ears, and I spun, clutching my chest. “Sebastian, was that you?” Purring sounded at my feet, and I glanced down to find the silky black cat rubbing against my shins. Okay. Not Sebastian, since the noise came from the entrance.
Invisible spider legs skittered down my neck. I scrubbed my hand over my nape, brushing the feeling away. Don’t be a ninny. I clenched my jaw. It’s only your imagination getting to you.
“Come on, Sebastian. Let’s keep searching.”
Finally, we neared the end of the great hall.
Here, the scent of mold and decay grew stronger, and I pressed my sleeve to my nose.
As I moved closer, many bodies littered the floor, their remains mere skeletons caged by golden armor, swords clamped in their bony hands.
They began to pile up as we drew nearer to a massive set of doors, now little more than splinters.
As if some mighty force had blown them off their hinges.
I sensed that this was the epicenter of the attack.
Whatever lay beyond must have been exceptionally valuable—something worth dying for.
The king’s men had made their stand here.
Anticipation coiled tight beneath my ribcage, my pulse quickening.
This could be it, the answer to so many of my questions.
Carefully, I stepped over the remains of a long-fallen soldier, uttering a prayer for the stranger who’d died in defense of his home.
Had his sacrifice been in vain? Were all who resided here lost, the same as the civilians in Nefarr?
Tension twisted knots into my shoulders, and I chewed my bottom lip.
Another step, and a horrendous roar exploded. Wind blasted my chilly flesh. Furious green eyes swept into my vision.
Dagger-like teeth flashed. Hot breath washed over me.
I knew that monstrous snarl.
“Alaric!” I shrieked, tripping on a pile of bones.
My ass hit the floor, air punching from my lungs. I rolled to my stomach, propped myself up on my forearms, and blinked. Peering back at me was a skeletal face with black holes for eyeballs. Between its missing teeth, a spider popped out.
“Ahh!” I belted out a scream, scrambling back.
“What are you doing here?” The dragon’s roar thundered through my chest, rattling my teeth. Claws slammed into the floor, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the stone. He stormed out of the mysterious room, an inferno of rage bearing down on me.
“I–I was—”
“You don’t belong here,” he bellowed. All beast. No sign of the cursed man.
His dragonflame raged beneath his scales, the searing blaze threatening violence. Flames flickered in his gnashing maw. I gulped what may have been my last breath, my muscles turning into watery gruel. Had he finally decided to roast me?
I clambered to my feet. Not since we’d met at the lake had I truly feared the dragon. Until now. If he wanted me dead, there would be no escape. Still, I refused to go down without a fight. I snatched a sword from a bony hand and turned to face the beast.
Legs braced by shaky muscles, I held my ground. “I know who you are.”
This, at last, seemed to distract him. He paused, canting his head, snarling, “Do you now?”
“Yes.” My lip quivered despite my show of bravery.
The dragon took a thunderous step forward, the crack of his taloned foot shaking the floor. “Tell me then.”
My heart hammered. You’re wrong, you’ll die, don’t say it. But the truth burned inside me.
“You’re…” It had to be. It was the only thing that made sense.
“Tell me. What did you find with your snooping and sneaking about?”
“I saw—” My voice cracked.
“Say it!” He bared bone-crunching teeth, his heated breath painting my cheeks.
I firmed my grip on my weapon, steeling my spine. “You’re King Alaric Blackwing. Former ruler of Pyrrhus. You’re a Draconis. A cursed shifter. And this lost kingdom is yours.”
At my bold statement, Alaric’s anger broke apart, ebbing like a tempest retreating to the sea. His massive frame sagged, his tail twitching weakly.
He lowered his head, avoiding my gaze. What had been a powerful roar emerged as a whisper. “I was. Once. But no longer.”
“And Thorne. He lived here, too. With you.”
“Thorne is my brother,” he confirmed with a low grumble, as though loath to admit they were related.
“And he is also a Draconis. A dragon shifter touched by the gods.”
“Yes. The blood of the gods runs in our veins.” He cast a pointed glare at the sword I still held. “Do you intend to slay me, little warrior?”
I tightened my grip on the hilt. “That depends. Do you intend to eat me?”
“No.” He rasped a cough, shifting back on his hunches as if exhausted by his outburst.
“Same.” I tossed the weapon away.
“You shouldn’t be here.” He listed to one side, favoring his injury.
I lifted my chin. “And you shouldn’t have roared at me.”
“Fine.” He stumbled over the skeletons, snapping bones beneath his powerful legs. I winced at the crunch.
“Come.” He strode down the hallway, expecting me to follow.
Rather than remain with the dead, I followed.
“What happened here?” I hustled to keep up, leaping over a pile of armored corpses.
“What does it look like?” Alaric snapped, irritation in his deep voice. “We were attacked. We lost. The kingdom fell.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all you need to know.”
Stubborn dragon. There had to be more. He simply didn’t feel like sharing.
“So, you and Thorne. You’re both shifters. Draconis.”
“Hmm,” a grunted acknowledgment.
It was embarrassing that I hadn’t come to the conclusion sooner. Thorne’s belief that I was an uneducated, uncultured slave made my cheeks burn.
A thought struck, so sharp I nearly tumbled into a pile of broken pottery. “That first day. In the pasture with the nerf. That wasn’t you who chased me. It was Thorne.”
“Since I have no idea what you are talking about. I’d hazard yes, that was Thorne.”
“That dirty rat.” I punched my palm. “So, he’s the one who…” Bit me. I trailed off, keeping the details to myself.
I cleared my throat. “Never mind. Could the other inhabitants of Pyrrhus shift as well?”
“No. Only those of us with royal blood, who were god-touched, could shift. Though the others had special gifts of their own.”
Meaning magic. My skin tingled at the revelation.
“What kind of gifts? Could they fly, or exhale flames, perform great feats with a snap of their fingers?” Irony threatened to split me wide open.
The Puritans had settled here because there wasn’t a crumb of magic around for miles.
When, but a short distance away, was a lost kingdom that had once thrived beneath the mystical limbs of a sacred arbor.
“And the tree.” I held my breath. “What happened to it?”
Alaric’s gaze darkened, shadows painting his features. “Enough questions. There’s something I want to show you.”