AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why so soon then? You could ride with me and be in the sky.”
“You know riding along isn’t the same as being a solo rider.” And there was something she needed to be ready for. By the dragon, it was a vague thought to have, but she knew that something big or bad or otherwise life-altering was about to happen. It could be felt in her bones and the way she’d woken not long ago knowing there were gaping holes in her memory. She just wasn’t certain exactly what was destined, only that it was.
That was the trouble with traveling through time. Memories were slow to catch up as they moved through different versions of reality. She’d remember soon enough though. Absently, she brushed her fingers over the cloth on her palm.
Bram’s attention followed the movement. “That appeared when you passed out. I didn’t want anyone else to see it so I told them you had cut yourself when you fell and I bound it. Do you know what that means, M? I looked into it while you slept. You’re being hunted.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “By a witch.”
A witch. Wild women loathed and hunted to near extinction by the entire empire. It took everything within her not to roll her eyes. What shock he might find himself in if he found out that he was looking at one now. That when he got drunk he sometimes kissed a witch, occasionally took that witch to bed. Instead, she turned back to her dragon and held onto the harness with all her strength. The leather of her riding pants groaned as she seated herself upon the Bold Wing. Mrithun’s eyes glowed dangerously bright, clouds puffing from her nostrils as she eagerly awaited her order.
“I’m not worried.”
Another half-truth. She was not worried about being hunted. She was worried about everything else.
Bram folded his arms over his chest, the realization that he wouldn’t be getting his way settling in. “Perhaps you should b—”
Chest heaving, Iyla, a newer scale rider to Cardinal Legion and part of the three legions that made up their clutch, appeared at the top of the stairs and practically burst through the doorway. Her cheeks were rosy and only darkened more when Bram let his full attention fall on her.
“All riders are to report to grand hall in two hours.”
Bram lifted a brow, the young rider easily buckling under the force of his gaze.
“The great merchant, Elton Hamza is dead,” Iyla said quietly, before disappearing down the stairs.
His lips parted and his head snapped in Meira’s direction.
And there it was. Her something big.
Elton Hamza, the richest man in all of Augustine, with his fingers in every pot of coin he could get his hands on. The entire continent would be buzzing with this news if it wasn’t already. Augustine had a violent past and no doubt would have a violent future. What sort of wicked creatures would crawl from the dark depths of the earth to try and become something as powerful as Elton Hamza had once been? That’d be what she and the other riders would face.
“We’re being called to flight, no doubt.” She sat tall on top of the Bold Wing, heels digging into her sides. “I’ll see you in the grand hall.” One massive pump of Mrithun’s wings and wind swept through the mountain top sending them bursting into the sky.
3
Remis
Tutors and trainers alike had worked with Remis since he was a small child to make sure he was everything an heir ought to be. Knowledgeable, good with a sword, and capable of damn near anything. Remis thought himself a master of most skills, rivaling that of even the emperor’s son. Not that that was his ambition.
There was one thing, however, that he considered more important than either wisdom, swordplay, or his father’s politics.
Charm.
And charming he was. Or at least tried very hard to be.
This talent was what had gotten him into the school he planned to attend in the fall, and not just any school but a school of magic. A place for men with a connection to the power that connected them all. Of course, his father’s status as a wealthy merchant had played its part as well, though he would never say that out loud for fear of making his father’s head even bigger. Without his father’s signature and the money it would take to fund these teachings, though, there would be no schooling. That left him with one choice: travel to Croughton and secure Elton Hamza’s business in his father’s name.
If he could just ignore the fact that it was dragonis season and the trip alone was a death sentence then it didn’t sound too terrible. Once he made it to the city, he could even make quick work of these business transactions and perhaps have himself a holiday before returning for the last years of his schooling.
Remis curled his fingers into a fist, hiding the witch’s mark on his palm. The reminder haunted him through the long corridors. Acute awareness of his unique ailment crept down into his legs, spreading from the wound of worry growing in his chest. The world beyond narrowed to familiar faces, friendly, fake, and otherwise. Still, he kept moving, walking through the halls, while casting more than one look over his shoulder.
He reached the doors that led from the manor to the front drive. For a moment, he stared at them. Time was ticking away. There would only be hours before he’d be off, and there were too many things he needed to do. Packing, planning, and saying his goodbyes were plenty high on that list. Perhaps, he thought, I should stop at a church and say a prayer as well. He pulled open the door and stepped outside.
Everything was strikingly familiar. The fountain at the center of the long curved drive still spit water that trickled back down into its belly. Manicured grasses and shrubs lined paths that led out to the gates. When he closed his eyes and listened, he caught the soft coos of the pigeons kept around the side of the building.
So normal. As though his world hadn’t tilted on its axis and threatened to buck him off. Everything and everyone else went about their ordinary day, uncaring that he was a walking dead man.
A few of his father’s men remained posted along the walls. Their eyes scanned not only the surrounding town but the skies. Until dragonis season was over, it was not unusual for one to slip into the cities when their hunger got the best of them. Fire-filled cannons waited at the city's borders to pick them off should they make that poor choice, but he could not carry a fire-filled cannon when traveling. At least not one big enough to save him if he were to become the object of a dragonis’ desire.
Slowly, as not to rush into his fate, Remis made his way down the steps to the already waiting carriage. The driver stood by the door, opening it without a sound, though the bend in his brows was question enough.
