Chapter 2

Page Two.

Dragons are beautiful creatures that should be feared by everyone but the one fae they choose as their rider. I fought the stones for my dragon, and if you keep reading, maybe you will be one too.

"Don't worry. They'll just do a test and then we'll find out where you go. Okay?"

My mother's soft words do little to settle the nerves in the pit of my stomach, no matter how many times she repeats herself. Maybe she has convinced her own heart to stop beating as fast as mine. Her long red hair is braided down her back, like mine, but she doesn't have the blackness that crawls up my locks and makes people stare. Will my hair make me stand out today? Will how pale and curvy I am? Will the fact I have tipped fae ears, even when most don't anymore? My insecurities are like a never-ending song in my mind, repeating over and over, until I've forgotten the point of the sweet song that I had begun listening to. Until my thoughts are as real to me as the vibrant silver moon in the night sky each night.

I play with the end of my braid as we stand before the thin black doors that lead into the basement of the processing district. My mother kisses the top of my head. "Happy birth year, darling girl. I don't think I got a moment to say that." Happy birth year seems inappropriate, considering no part of today will be happy.

I'm fourteen this birth year, and for fae, it's a cursed year. On every fae's fourteenth birth year, you're officially classed as an adult. At least the lessborn fae like me are. There are three places the lessborn fae are divided into, depending on the results of today's test. The breeders—like where I live with my mother. I wince at the idea of returning there. My mum is classed as an unsuccessful breeder, being she only ever had me and no other children, despite many suitors. Every other family I know has five or six children, some as many as nine, and that is normal for female fae breeders. We were always outcasts because it's just me and her, but I like that. I like that I get her attention all of the time. But it doesn't mean I want to be there. What if I'm unsuccessful as a breeder? I don't think I even want children, though I'm not sure it's an option for me to want things, but being a breeder is the best option.

The second is a worker, sent to the mines to collect gold, silver or crystals for the vampyres until my back breaks or a rock crushes me. The third option…my mother won't even speak about the third option, but I've heard it from the fae I grew up around. They whisper it around—the blood slaves. The blood slaves are rejects of society, the ones that don't fit in with the workers in the mines because their bodies aren't able or they're not successfully able to be a breeder. Today's check decides everything.

"Story Dehana, come forward." I lift my hand, like she doesn't know exactly who I am. There are four families here. The rest of the people my age are boys. The fae female waves her hand at us, her eyes drifting to my mother for a second, and she blinks in surprise. She is powerborn, like I'm told my father was before he died. The markings on her cheek tell me she is a healer, a flower wrapped around a star, and they match the many markings of power on her hands—all flowers, different ones, that move against her skin like they are alive. The powerborn fae get a choice in their careers, in their lives, but they rule nothing like the rest of us. Fae are slaves to the vampyres, no matter what you're born as. "Come in, come in."

My mother all but tugs me forward with her hand, leading me into the cold room. There's a metal bed in the middle, with a single white cushion, and the walls are blank. The woman shuts the door behind me. "Go lie down, Story. I will be right with you." Her voice is quiet as she addresses my mother. "It's good to see you, Ylene. You haven't aged a day."

"You're too kind, Blaire. How is your son?" my mother whispers back.

She touches her neck where another marking is. This one is a diamond, which marks the birth of a child. "Growing up fast. Too fast."

My mother looks at me, light shining in her dark forest green eyes that are exactly the same as mine. "I know the feeling, my old friend." She blinks a few times, straightening her back and smiling like she hasn't got a worry in the world. "Shall we?"

Blaire faces me and rubs her hands together as she closes the space between us. "I only need to take a drop of your blood, and then I'll be able to see where you're suitable for. Your blood holds all the answers of your body to me, and it will show me what your fate shall be."

"Okay." My voice shakes. I'm not brave, not like my mother. I'm not a warrior like my father was.

"This will all be over soon," Blaire gently tells me, tucking away her loose strands of brown hair. I'm not sure how my mother knows this powerborn fae, but I don't have time to question her. I sit down as Blaire comes over, a small needle and a glass tube in her hands. She pricks my finger, and I barely feel the pain before a small amount of my red blood trickles into the tube.

I can practically hear my heart racing in my ear, like a constant drum, as I stare at Blaire's back. Bright orange magic, a rare magic for powerborn fae, flashes in front of her, and she goes still. She seems to do it two—no, three—times before she looks over her shoulder. I've always been good at reading people's eyes, and her blue eyes are screaming a thousand words, and none of them good.

She clears her throat. "Ylene, can I speak to you outside?" She points to a door. "Just out there?" Sensing my gaze, Blaire looks at me. "There's nothing to worry about…I just need to speak to your mother for a second." Of course, when adults tell you there's nothing to worry about, there's always something to worry about. I sit up as my mother goes out the side door with her, and they leave it slightly cracked open. I can't help myself as I run over, hiding just behind the door so I can hear them.

"Oh, Ylene, I'm so, so sorry," Blaire is exclaiming.

My mother seems to pause before she asks a question that determines my entire future with barely a whisper. "What are you sorry about?"

"She's not eligible for the breeders or the workers, and I'm just sorry. So sorry. Story has problems with her ovaries and uterus, a rare condition. We don't even have a name for it, not anymore. I could sense it in her blood," she begins to explain, and my stomach drops. "Her uterus is scarred, her ovaries full of cysts, even now before her monthlies have begun. It must be a birth defect of some kind; the offspring of mixing lessborn and powerborn fae like her…sometimes results in this. She will have difficult monthly cycles, intense, awful pain. She will be weak, and her body will betray her with pain every month and sometimes in between. She will need healers sometimes, and she cannot go to the workers like that. I can't recommend her to either."

I hear my mother move forward. "Yes, she can. Just lie for me, for her father! Please, send her to the breeders. I'll just hide her symptoms. She won't get pregnant, but it happens. It happens all the time. She'll just be kept there. That's how it is." Her voice is spinning into desperation, more panicked, higher pitched by the second. My heart races as I listen to them deciding my fate.

"I can't, Ylene. I wish I could. For him," she answers, and I believe her, believe the soft tone. She liked my father. "I wish I could, but I cannot. They would just send others to check her, and then they'll find what I did, and she'll still go to the same fate. It would be cruel to attract that much attention her way. They might even kill her for breaking the law. They'd certainly kill both of us."

"No…NO!" my mother shouts. "You're not sending my daughter to be a blood slave for those—" Her voice skyrockets off the walls.

"Keep it down before someone hears you. The vampyres are always listening around here. I'm so sorry, there isn't another option. I'm going to have to send her to be a blood slave," Blaire firmly states, her voice cracking. "She'll be okay. They're gentle with their blood slaves when they're young. When she gets older, she'll make her own way."

"And I will never see her again. They'll keep her here in this godforsaken city until one vampyre takes it too far and kills her for her blood, like she is nothing more than an animal. That's all we are to them: lessborn or powerborn, we are just blood," my mother hisses with pure venom in her voice. "If her father was alive?—"

"Well, he isn't, and neither is my brother. They both died that day! We all live with the consequences of their deaths," Blaire angrily snaps. I wish I knew more about my father, but my mother never speaks much of him. He was a warrior for the fae, and he died fighting for us all. My mother repeats that line anytime I ask her about him. She never tells me anything more, and right now, I wish she'd told me everything she knows so I might be prepared for what is coming.

Silence, thick and empty, echoes between them. Her voice is softer, kind, when she speaks next. "I'll watch out for her myself. I vow it to the deities. I'll make sure she gets a good vampyre master. I'll pick someone to look after her, who won't take it too far. Ever. Not all of them are like the king and royals, Ylene."

My mother's weeping fills the corridor, and I walk away, back to the bed. I lie back on it, looking up at the plain white ceiling, knowing my future is completely and utterly over. I lift my finger, seeing a drop of my blood run down my finger, down my wrist, like it's marking me already. I'm going to be a blood slave, and after today, I'm never going to see my mother again.

The room is spinning when I wake up, and I first see a dome made of pure glass and past that, a million stars burning across the night sky outside. The moon is shining down on me, the silver light so bright. Everything is hazy for a minute as I remember the mansion in the forest, the dragon statue, and the male who hit me over the head when I ran. The room is silent, but I can feel eyes on me. That deep sense that I'm really not alone. Now I've tasted freedom, I'm not sure I ever want to give it up and I think I might like being alone. I don't care what I've walked into here; I'm leaving for the life I want the first chance I get. I lift my head, propping myself up on my elbows, and my mouth drops.

There are at least a thousand pairs of eyes on me, if not more. The glass room is circular, and it's an auditorium, with rows and rows of seats reaching up high. The seats are filled with people, and all of them are silently staring at me. They don't look like vampyres…they are fae. But not like any fae I've seen before. How hard was I hit on the head?

I touch the back of my head, feeling a hard lump and dried blood. "I am awfully sorry my cousin hit you. Please stand up if you can. You are in no danger here." A deep, soft male voice fills the quiet. Following the voice, I look up to see a male sitting on what looks like a throne. It's made of leaves cast in stone, withered and cracked in places but a throne, and on the back is a sun made of gold.

The male on it, he is as pretty as the vampyres, maybe even more. His curly, almost white hair is styled around his handsome features, and his gold eyes are like Nightwell lakes in winter when the rays of the sun light up the surface. His hands are covered in markings. I can't see what they are, but there is a gold sun on his left cheek. He watches me curiously as I stand up, my heart racing fast.

They're all looking at me, and I'm really, really not okay with the attention. I cross my arms tightly and glance around for a way to escape. The long-sleeved black top and the dark leggings that I have on, mostly torn from the forest, make me feel like I'm wearing absolutely nothing in front of them. There are so many of them, whatever these people are. I think they're fae, but they're strange. With all the books I've read, I can't believe I don't know what they are. "I should be leaving. Sorry to have bothered you."

Whispers burst out in the crowds, but the male simply chuckles and grins at me. "If you know how to leave, please do make us aware. We'd very much like to go with you."

I steel my back, looking at the male. "What does that mean? You just walk out."

Now the crowd laughs at me, and my cheeks burn. The male clicks his fingers, and they stop. I'm grateful for that. "I think we probably should start with who we are, and then you can tell us who you are. To start with, my name is King Daegan Caelestis Sunfallen, third of my name, born of the Dynasty of the Sun Dragon. Rider of Odemis. And you are?"

King?There is only one king, a vampyre, and it isn't this guy. I feel like my name is tiny when I say it. "Story Dehana."

"Story," he repeats my name, and he is still smiling. "What do you know of the old times? Say, your history of what happened five hundred years ago? Tell us a story, Story."

I clear my throat, rubbing my arms. Part of me wants to stay silent, but I end up rambling anyway. "History that far back is forbidden to people like me." When his eyebrows rise, I explain, my cheeks brightening. "I'm a lessborn fae, only twenty-two years old, who is—was—a blood slave. History isn't taught to us," I state the facts, and the bitterness leaking from my voice can't be helped. I love to read, but the vampyres lock away their massive libraries from the fae because books are power. Books hold the secrets of the world, the stories of great minds, and they are far more than wood bound together. The books we do have, they tell us nothing interesting but how to stay loyal to the vampyres, how to serve them, how to mine and be a breeder. I had a tutor when I was a child, who snuck me books I should never have had a chance to read. I was lucky, compared to others. That's where I saw the dragon, and I never could forget it. "The old times…do you mean before the vampyres' rule?"

His eyes flare. "Yes, what can you tell us about the time before the vampyres infested the world?"

Infested?"Not much. There used to be dragons and dragon rider fae according to some, but vampyres claim that they were never real. No one really knows much about it all, and it isn't a topic anyone would dare bring up with a vampyre without fear of losing their head. Why is this important to you?"

He tilts his head to the side, ignoring my question. "Carry on."

I dig my nails into my arm. "I only know that they went missing. Extinct, years ago, but I learnt that from a book I shouldn't have read. It might not be true. They pretty much disappeared overnight, from what the tale said. Vampyres took control and they rule with no competition."

"And the fae? Like you?" he asks. "Are you happy being ruled by vampyres?"

"The fae are obedient to them. That's just how it is." No, we are not happy. Happy is a luxury that no fae is allowed. It's a cruel, endless world for us. If vampyres didn't like our blood as much as they do, I bet they would have killed us all off a long time ago.

Daegan leans back in his throne. "My father was one of the five kings of the Dragon Rider Fae Dynasties. The Sun Dragon Dynasty, to be exact."

Blood drains from my face. "Pardon?"

"We never went extinct…we've been here." He spreads his hands out. "Welcome to our endless trap, the mansion that we can never leave. You're the first person that's ever come through the door in five hundred years, and you're going to get us out, fae of our blood. You're going to tell us how you did it."

My heart races as I look around. Five hundred years…and I'm the first one in here? I'm so fucked. "How I got in? I just walked in. I was running?—"

"From whom or what?" he interrupts me.

"Vampyres," I whisper. I hate when people interrupt what I'm saying, but I'm too scared to say anything about it. They could kill me for speaking out; my vampyre master would have beaten me for it without a second thought.

"What would they want with you?" he asks, and I gather he doesn't mean it as an insult, just curiosity. I'm a curiosity for all of them. Five hundred years, trapped in this mansion, as the world forgot about them? Kings? Rulers? How is it possible they were just forgotten? They became fairy tales, the people around me here, and dangerous ones at that. If the vampyres knew they were here… No, they can't know. It might actually be safer for me in here, hidden with them, than out there.

I rub my arm. "I was their property. The vampyres." I can't tell them more, about exactly whose property I was, or they'd see me as an enemy. "I don't have magic. I am a lessborn fae, and I haven't got a clue how I walked in."

Daegan picks up a chain hanging around his neck, twisting a sun-shaped amulet hanging from it through his fingers. He looks at a female sitting on a nearby bench. The light-haired woman, thin and beautiful, stands. "Is she telling the truth, Etena?"

"Yes," Etena answers, brushing her long white hair over her shoulder. She walks down the benches and to me, only stopping when we are inches away, and she towers over me. I'm shaking slightly, and I barely notice until she touches my shoulder. Her blue eyes flicker to my hands, like she is looking for something. Eventually she looks up, her eyes running down the braid that pulls my hair from my face, the rest of my messy locks tumbling over my shoulders before she settles on meeting my eyes. "You must be terrified. I am sorry for that. Please excuse how rude we've been to you since you got here, but you must understand, we have been trapped inside here for a long, long time. Our entire race locked away for five hundred years, and you're the first person to arrive. We simply want to know how and figure it all out. You're hope to us, and new knowledge of the outside world we haven't seen in so long. You could get us out, back to the world your forefathers once lived in."

Whispers increase, spreading around the crowd like a breeze. I'm too speechless to say anything at all. I don't like where this is going. They want a saviour and I'm just not that. "Perhaps some rest and food would be best. You look exhausted. Then we can discuss more. There must be a clue." She looks back at Daegan.

He comes down the steps and offers me his arm. He smells like clean linen, the forest and cinnamon. "A beautiful lady should not walk alone. Please, let me escort you."

"I don't know you or trust you. Please, just let me go to see the door, and I can?—"

"The door is gone. It was never there for anyone but you, and now that room is gone, too. The mansion wanted you here. The deities sent you to us, and I will make sure our gift is kept safe," he promises, still offering me his arm. I can't trust him. Trust is something I will never give easily ever again, but he might be my best shot at being protected here until I can escape.

I smile tensely at him and nod once. I don't have a choice and I want to get out of here, away from all the eyes watching me. I'm halfway across the room when I feel a heavy weight of someone's eyes on me that pulls my gaze over my shoulder, to the back of the room. A group of these people are sitting alone, and there's a male in the middle of them who draws all the attention. He's huge, taking up two of the seats easily, his thick arms stretched across the back. His messy black hair is cut short, shaved on each side, but wild on top. Moon-shaped earrings line his one ear, and they glitter in the moonlight that is shining on him. What looks like an actual black crescent moon marking lies on his right cheek.

He must be the most beguiling male I've ever seen. It's his eyes that near enough stop my legs from working. They're like molten silver fire, and they are focused on me with such intensity that his gaze sends shivers down my spine. Even at the back of the room, his stare is almost too much to hold, and his lips tilt up in a bit of a smirk, almost like he's sensing my reaction to him. His eyes might be beautiful, but they are cold, void of any warmth.

I can't help but notice how nobody sits next to his group. Their clothes are similar to the fae outside, black with silver-lined edges, but old-fashioned compared to the clothes worn in the cities. The rest of the groups here are in brighter, mostly yellow or orange colours. There's about twenty of them, sitting in a line up the steps, and not a single person goes anywhere near them. There are five or six empty seats separating the rest of the crowds from these people. It's on the tip of my tongue to ask Daegan who he is, but I don't, pulling my eyes away from the stranger, knowing I shouldn't stare long.

The second I look away, I sense something change in the room. It goes silent. Daegan pauses, and he turns back, anger written all over his face. When I follow his gaze, I find the man I saw a moment ago has stood. His arms are crossed, showing off dozens of dragon markings littered all over his hands and lower arms as his black shirt is rolled up. They are like Daegan's, but he has many more. The man looks at Daegan with clear disdain, and his voice is like honey gliding over my skin when he speaks. "The newcomer does not belong to you, Sun king. She is of age, and she will enter the Decidere."

Ripples of shocked gasps echo around the room.

"What's the Decidere?" I whisper to Daegan, but he hasn't taken his eyes off the man. I don't think I pronounced it right at all.

Daegan immediately defends me. "Ziven, she?—"

"Enters the Decidere, or I will kill her myself. No fae belongs in our dynasties without earning their place." His tone is final. No one argues with him, and I don't blame them. He is terrifying and I'm a stranger. I don't know what the Decidere is, but I can tell it's not good. Ziven walks down the steps, purposely heading right towards me with his huge legs, and after the death threat, my own legs itch to run away. He's so tall, at least seven feet. Daegan isn't short by any means, but compared to Ziven, he seems it.

Ziven might kill me, and I haven't done anything with the life my best friend died to get me. I'm not brave like he said I was, and I don't even know how to be anything but a slave. Freedom, it is new and, so far, not all that amazing. I feel like a rat who escaped one trap only to run right into another, far worse one, and this time no one is going to protect me. My heart is in my throat as he walks right past me, followed by the twenty or so people he was with.

Only when they are gone does Daegan look down at me, and I feel like I can breathe. "I'm sorry. That was King Ziven Moonsilver of the Moon Dynasty, and he just demanded you enter a trial, one you arrived for right before it began. He never speaks in here, but he is another king, one of the few remaining, and I cannot refuse him without starting a war. He would like that."

"What is the Decidere?" I dare to ask. I don't care about their politics.

Daegan leads me to the door of the auditorium, and I'm glad for his arm as his words nearly destroy my ability to stand. "An ancient rite of passage for all fae over the age of twenty. Trials in the stones, which the dragons use to test your strength and choose if you will become a rider. Tomorrow, you will enter the trial with the others, and only the stone dragons below can help or shatter you."