Chapter Eight #2
I’m led through well-manicured paths, up steps made from roots, and along wide swaying bridges trussed between the trees.
Below, mounds made of earth and stone hunker down between trunks.
People come and go from them, and when I look closer, I realize they have doors and windows.
Among the trees, branches reach out long and hold aloft more structures that encircle the trees in part or in whole like mushrooms I’ve seen before on the trees in Dyēus, stacked upon one another and connected by platforms and twisting stairs.
Dwellings, I guess, from the cooking workspaces and cozy seating I see as we pass the windows.
We walk onto a large bridge, arched and stationary, positioned above an open central square.
The stonework and dragon glass inlaid into the square’s ground sparkle against the light of the sun sneaking in between the leaves.
A faint, happy tune playing on a wind instrument reaches my ears, and my footsteps falter.
“Not quite what you envisioned?” Atlanta remarks.
“No,” I murmur, shutting my eyes, tamping down the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm me.
I’ve killed these people. I’ve taken family members, ruined lives, all because of a lie.
We were told savage creatures prowled these lands.
That a fate worse than death awaited us if we dared enter this place.
What fools we are. “Does everyone here transform?”
Atlanta studies me before answering. “Every one of us.” There’s a weight to her words.
There’s more she wants to say. There’s more that I need to hear, and I’m not certain I’ll like it.
“This way,” she says, leading us over the crest of the bridge and my eyes widen at what creeps into view before me.
It’s the grandest tree I’ve ever seen, its breadth spanning the width of two dragons side-by-side with their wings spread.
More of the same semi-circular structures climb the tree, deep into the boughs, and at the very top, a massive edifice exists between the branches, rising above the canopy.
At the end of the bridge, we reach a set of stairs, steep and worn smooth.
Atlanta begins the ascent, and I follow.
“This is the Alcazar, where some of us live and where we meet to discuss our…predicament.”
When she doesn’t continue, I prompt, “Which is?”
Atlanta inclines her head to all that’s around us.
“Once you adjust to the shifts at night, you’ll see.
We are not savage here inside the Realm.
It’s only if we leave this place do we fall prey to the curse that makes us feral.
All of us are trapped, and we’ve been trying, for many, many years, to free ourselves. ”
My nostrils flare as I struggle to get air into my lungs. I’ve jumped headfirst out of one trap, straight into another. The question I have now is, who set this one?
“I’m not sure I understand what I see or what to believe anymore.” Did Ninon know it would be like this before she came? Is she even here? I thought I heard her last night, though now I’m not certain. Both Ozias and Atlanta said her name, but only after I revealed it. They could be manipulating me.
“You might not have sought out these questions you didn’t know existed, but you’ll get the answer to them all the same.”
With each step growing heavier than the last, we continue to climb, on and on.
A thought swirls around in the back of my mind that I can’t comprehend or name.
It comes to me as a broad question: How?
How was anything here possible? Finally, we reach a landing where there’s a circular arched entrance.
Atlanta leads me in, and it’s bigger inside than I thought possible.
Open and grand and quiet, the inner atrium immediately makes me think of Ninon.
Sunlight drives in from all angles, catching dust motes that shimmer like stars against the dark backdrop of bark and creeping vines.
Tomes and trinkets line walls of shelves that appear grown from the limbs themselves.
Halls divaricate from the round chamber at odd angles and levels, all of which are connected by more carved steps.
I’m led down one of the halls to a door and Atlanta opens it, revealing a bedroom.
The wood floors are worn soft and smooth and even.
To the right, another door leads to a small bathing chamber, and on the left hand wall there’s a dressing table with a wardrobe beside that.
Against the far back wall is a bed covered in soft blankets and pillows in shades of green, amber, and gold.
“You can clean up.” She nods to the bathing room. “A change of clothes is on the bed.”
“You’re not afraid I’ll run away?”
Her eyes move across my face, head tilting. “Where would you go?”
My limbs fall heavy at my sides. It doesn’t matter where I am, it seems. I was trapped in Nevoba. Trapped in Dyēus. And now I’m trapped here, too.
After Atlanta leaves, it’s a long while before I finally look down at myself.
My dress is stiff with Alixor’s blood, the edges frayed, the once luscious silk covered in snares.
Blood flakes and falls to the ground as I peel the fabric from my skin.
Alixor was not the man he pretended to be.
That much I know is true. Dyēus has dealings with the Realm, which I never knew, but saw with my own eyes.
The Realm…the Realm is not what Dyēus claimed it was.
How deep does the deceit go? And where is the truth?
Catching my gaze in the reflecting glass above the dressing table, I freeze. “My mark.”
I ghost my fingers along my sternum. The symbol has faded, the lines once dark and vivid, appear washed out.
My brows cinch tight as I touch the image and feel something deep within me rumble in response.
I pull my fingers away and turn, inspecting my back over my shoulder.
The thought comes swift and fierce, the image of wings springing from my spine, my skin sliding into scales.
My skin tingles. When I face my visage again in the mirror, my pupils dilate.
“Kaisa? Are you all right?” Atlanta calls.
I whip my head toward the door, hands trembling. “Yes,” I call out, rolling my shoulders and shaking my hands until the feeling is gone. “Yes, I’ll be out in a moment.”
Once I’m cleaned and dressed in the clothes Atlanta left for me—dark brown high-waisted trousers and a high-neck cropped shirt—I leave the room and Atlanta is right outside the door.
Without a word, she lifts her hand near my face and I flinch back.
Her movements slow, but she doesn’t drop her hand. “May I?”
Gaze flicking to her hand, then back to her face, I nod. As her fingers land on my cheek where Alixor struck me, a heat spreads and the throbbing pain lessens as if she were pulling it out of my skin. I blink, my mouth opening. “How?”
Savage beasts, that’s what we were told the Realm holds. Mindless, flesh-eating creatures that slip out at night to feast on us. But this…this is as if…
“Did you think you would reclaim this form and not have the powers it comes with?”
I capture her wrist in my hand, blood rushing to my ears. “The dragons of Dyēus have this power, they have the power. You, you shouldn’t.”
“Kaisa,” Atlanta whispers softly, a placating tone on her tongue.
I shake my head. “What you’re saying…it sounds as if…” My chest heaves, and I am choking, drowning in the words she’s yet to say.
“You know what I’m saying, Kaisa.” She lays her cool hand on my cheek. “Even if your mind can’t yet comprehend it.”
I shove her away with more force than I knew I had.
She gracefully steps back, as if she allowed me to push her that far.
“Stop.” I press a forefinger and thumb against my hot, stinging eyes.
“No. This can’t be. They take our children; you cannot mean…
” I cover my mouth to press in the sob clawing at my throat, to keep myself from uttering the words.
Ridiculous, impossible words. She quiets me with a gentle shush as she wraps both my hands in hers. I want so desperately to deny it.
“I don’t expect you to believe me,” she says.
“Most women who come here, like Ninon, discovered the truth—that we are dragons, as much as they are—or at least suspected it enough to try to find the answers. You and me though? We were not so fortunate in the manner in which we came here.” She holds my hands tighter, bringing them close to her chest.
Dragon. There it is. That’s the truth I couldn’t bear to hear.
That she is…that I am, a dragon. My hands shake in hers, my shoulders rattling.
Something inside me stirs. Atlanta stands a little taller than me, and though I don’t tilt my head to look at her, I’m watching her face from beneath my lashes.
There’s a wariness as she stares back at me, like she’s waiting for something to happen.
Even though she looks my age, there’s a depth to her eyes that I’ve seen in Thrace’s gaze, in the Sar Dyēus’s, and even Ozias’s, that speaks to years lived longer. “How old are you?”
“Dragons don’t keep track of the years. But I was born shortly after Zhoric took power. The tactics to get dissidents to breed back then were not as…conniving, as they are now. Ozias saved me, when the rumors of this place were worse than they are now, and I’ve been here ever since.”
My mind flashes with images of Alixor forcing himself upon me, demanding me, attempting to take from me.
Atlanta must recognize what she sees in my expression, because she’s nodding.
“Ozias told me what happened to you in Dyēus.” Her fingertips flutter against my hand, like she wants to let go, but she keeps hold.
“You should know that, even without the contraceptive, you wouldn’t have fallen pregnant. ”
My head shakes lightly. “I don’t understand. How?”
“Your body was already set on rejecting it. It cannot happen unless you are willing for it to be so, even with part of yourself locked away.” Her gaze flits down to my mark.
“The men didn’t understand the power we have over ourselves.
They didn’t learn the art of manipulation and seduction until later, well after me and women like me were subjected to far different methods.
Much like what Alixor attempted with you. ”
Hot tears brim my eyes and burn my throat. “That’s what happened to you.”
Her jaw flexes. “It’s in the past.”
“It still happened.”
“Yes,” she says, eyes glazed with tears of her own. “It did.”
I only nod. There are no words of comfort I can offer that time has not already tried.
She presses the fingertips of one hand against my fading mark.
“What has been stolen from you, you’ve taken back.
” Understanding dawns, bright and hot. They didn’t take my ability to transform into the great and powerful creatures I’ve envied my whole life.
He did. The Sar Dyēus stole it. From all of us.
From me. “This mark will continue to fade as you change and discover that full potential living inside of you.” Atlanta holds my gaze.
Fierce. Strong. Protective. Her hands continue to hold mine.
My lungs no longer feel like they’re contracting, the muscles of my neck soften.
I loose a shaky breath from my lips, the whole time keeping my eyes on hers.
Then she nods and tows me along with her as we leave the hall.
“There’s much more to learn, and my story is only a small part of it.
Now come. Ozias is waiting to speak with you, and patience is not a virtue of his.
” And without further conversation, we go up.