Chapter 2
ESME
Iwhip toward the sound, shadow-blade still in my hand. I didn’t even hear him come in.
But there he stands framed in the threshold, his black tunic trimmed in gold and ruby catching the torchlight, a midnight lock falling over his forehead.
A dragon’s head buckle gleams at his waist, drawing the eye to the breadth of his shoulders, to the easy way he carries himself, like he knows exactly what power does to a room.
“You.” The word rips from me like venom.
“Me.” His smirk is infuriatingly casual as he inclines his head toward Nyssa. “Forgive my guest, Nyssa. What she lacks in etiquette, she more than makes up for in potential.”
“Potential,” I echo, shifting my stance toward him. “I’ll show you potential.”
“Put that away before you poke somebody’s eye out with it,” Dayn replies bluntly and raises his hand.
The marks on his skin where his binding runes had been catch my eye, and the sight needles me.
Memories of the ritual shove their way into my mind—his touch, the heat, the bond I never asked for.
They slip in like sabotage, unbidden and infuriating.
Maybe it’s the blood. Maybe it’s what we survived.
I don’t care. I still want to kill him. But hesitation worms its way in, quiet and unwelcome, dulling the edge I should have.
Letting the shadow blade dissipate into thin air, I raise my chin in defiance.
“Your grace, I tried…” Nyssa tries to speak, but Dayn shakes his head slowly.
“It’s not your fault,” he says. “Esme can be hard-headed and impulsive when she’s better served by calm and reasoning.”
“How come every word that comes out of your mouth sounds like an insult?” I cut in with a deep scowl.
“Probably because the truth is uncomfortable to hear, so it’s easier to take offense,” he replies, and glances at Nyssa. “There is a reason why I asked you, of all people in this palace, to stay by Esme’s side, Nyssa. I promise you’ll soon understand why.”
“Your grace, she is different,” Nyssa replies.
“Indeed. Much like you, she’s had to learn a few things the hard way. She’s about to learn a few more, in fact.” His glance slides to me, casual on the surface, though his amber eyes burn as they measure me. “For now, stand down. Esme and I have… catching up to do.”
“And then some,” I snap back, crossing my arms.
Dayn’s gaze locks on mine. The air between us thickens until every breath feels like an effort. My heart skips one too many beats, and I don’t like the sensation. I’m not sure if it’s fear or something worse... Topside would’ve been easier to handle. That’s my world. Down here, I’m exposed.
Treading uncharted waters.
I need to move with more caution.
“If you would follow me,” Dayn says, motioning toward the open door.
“Where?” I ask.
Nyssa holds back a smile but doesn’t say a word, merely tucking a lock of silver hair behind her ear. I exhale sharply when Dayn doesn’t answer and decide to follow him out of the room, as uncomfortable as I may be in these circumstances.
I might as well get a lay of the land.
Guards are stationed at each of the doors connected by a wide and tall hallway with white-painted walls and brass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Similarly designed torches are mounted at every door, their orange flames casting a warm light over the young dragons’ chiseled jaws.
They seem to have been made from the same mold.
Tall, strong, clad in gold-plated armor. They all stare ahead, yet as soon as we pass each of them, I can feel their curious eyes drilling hot holes into the back of my neck.
“I figured you’d all let loose in your dragon forms down here,” I tell Dayn dryly as I follow him to the end of the hallway. I still haven’t figured out exactly what kind of building this is, only that it’s sprawling, with multiple wings and chambers.
“We could,” Dayn replies, his tone matching mine.
“But too many dragons in one place? We’d tear the city apart before we realized it.
We’ve mastered both forms, though. Draethys was built to sustain both.
It’s just better if we don’t test its limits.
It took a long time to build. Great sacrifices were made for us to make a home down here. ”
“And you… left?”
He pushes through a set of wide, gold-plated double doors, and we step into a large circular chamber with a domed ceiling.
I’m rendered breathless by its regal beauty—the walls reinforced with gold-brushed arches that reach all the way up to the center, from which a ginormous gold and smoked glass chandelier descends.
The chandelier resembles a dragon with many heads that give light, while the golden wings fan out in different directions and angles, casting the glow evenly across the room.
Beneath it, a throne rises, made of solid gold and fitted with embroidered cushions.
Tall chairs form an arch before it, facing us.
I’m guessing that’s where Lord Bemmar’s council sits whenever there’s an audience.
“Yes,” Dayn says simply. “I left.”
“Nyssa said you were the heir to the throne.”
“I still am,” he replies, his gaze flicking briefly to the seat of power. “Now that I’ve returned, someday I’ll sit there and lead my people.”
“Lead them where?”
His eyes snap back to me, sharp as a blade. “Here’s the situation. A problem—mostly for you.”
The urge to hit him flares hot, nearly unbearable. I force it down with a long breath, waiting for him to elaborate.
At the same time, I notice there’s a secondary door behind the throne, out of sight and barely visible but for the round knob. It’s made to look like it’s part of the wall, and I assume it’s meant for Lord Bemmar to remove himself quickly and discreetly from this space.
I file it away. I might have use for that door.
“Go on,” I mutter.
Dayn pauses, then exhales as though confessing something weighty. “I didn’t tell you everything about our kind.”
I almost snort. “Clearly, you did not.” I point to practically everywhere around us.
“But I’m sure you understand why.”
I do. It doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. “Why’d you leave Draethys?”
“I had hopes for the world above,” he admits, gaze lowering. “I thought that if I studied your people—observed, traced the patterns—I could find the right points of influence. Enough to restore balance. Dragons, magicals, humans… living under the same sky again, most unaware of the others.”
“That sounds idealistic.”
“Maybe it was.” A flicker of something unreadable shadows his face. “But I did find kindred spirits during my time above. Some of them… were part of your bloodline.”
Dayn mentioned my ancestors. The memory of that incident had almost slipped my mind, but it is back now, clearer and louder. “You knew Helena. My great, great, great grandmother.”
“And her daughter Galia. Esther’s grandmother,” he says. “Yes. But that is a story for another time, Esme. We have more pressing issues to deal with.”
“It sounds to me like you’re just buying yourself time while trying to rope me into another scenario that may result in my death. That’s one pattern I’ve already identified about you.”
A smile tests the corner of his mouth. I catch the edge of my tongue between my teeth, pretending it doesn’t make me want to move closer, to breathe him in.
His heartbeat thrums through the space between us, heavy and magnetic, and it makes me…
thirsty. If dragon blood is addictive, I may be in a whole different kind of trouble.
“You are my guest here, Esme,” Dayn says evenly. “And I am heir to the throne. Which means you’ll follow Draethys’s laws for the duration of your stay.”
“The duration of my—” I snap. “Dayn, I’m not staying here. That was never part of my deal!”
“Nor mine,” he answers, sharp but steady. “But your people—and Heathborne’s lunatics—left me no choice. And Draethys isn’t as I left it. For both our sakes, we’ll have to rely on each other until I sort out what’s happening.”
“What do you mean?”
His gaze flicks to the door, a flare of golden fire in his pupils. Listening. Cautious. My skin prickles as I follow his glance, but the double doors remain shut. Guards outside. If they’re not who he fears, then who else is listening?
“No more cryptic bullshit, Dayn,” I bite out. “I need the whole truth. Now.”
“That makes two of us,” he murmurs, eyes sliding back to mine. Heat creeps up my neck despite myself. “There’s much I don’t yet know. About my father’s rule. About the council. Who’s a friend. Who’s a foe. But the codex hasn’t changed. You are under me, Esme. Yet you will abide by our customs.”
I stare at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You are under my protection,” he says, voice low, though I don’t trust anything about that word. “Given our… bond, you’ve attracted the elders’ attention. They’re curious about you. About your new abilities—”
“You told them?”
“They didn’t need telling.” He exhales, shoulders dipping briefly. “They could feel my blood in you. Your nature made the rest obvious. Darkbloods unsettle them. They don’t yet know what to make of you. Or what to do with you.”
My stomach tightens. “What to do with me.” The words taste wrong. “What could they possibly…” But I stop myself, already finding the answer hidden somewhere in the recesses of my tired mind. I’ve heard it somewhere before, not that long ago. That I’m to be used.
A weapon of sorts.
“So let me get this straight.” My voice sharpens. “You conned me into helping you break Heathborne’s fifty-year-old hold over you.”
“We collaborated,” he corrects, unflinching.
“Collaborated,” I sneer. “Then you hurt my friends. Isander was saving me, and you—” My voice cracks. “I don’t even know if he’s alive.”
“It wasn’t mortal. Just a warning.”
“You tore his wing open!”
“He tried to take what was mine.”
Dayn doesn’t raise his voice, but the words land heavier for it—low, deliberate, vibrating through the chamber until they settle in my bones. My stomach knots… then twists. Not with hesitation, but with anger.