Chapter 3

Page Three.

We all have a calling, a longing we are born to that makes our hearts beat faster. If you're reading this, you were called to a dragon, and it is waiting for you. Make sure your enemies don't kill you first.

We leave the auditorium before I can process anything he just said. Trials? Dragons? Stones? My head is swarming with questions and fears as we head into a deserted corridor, full of paintings of cities I've never seen and dragons that should be impossible. I want to stop in front of each one and ask about them, but Daegan doesn't slow down, and I get the feeling we shouldn't linger here. Daegan seems to follow my every look, reading my every expression and reaction to the paintings. There are windows every so often, and each one looks out into the forest, revealing nothing but rows of thick, tall trees. This place is hidden from the world, and I don't know how I found it. Why am I here?

We come to a stop before guarded doors with a huge sun symbol on the wood. The guards are wearing thick golden armour, and helmets completely cover their faces. They both bow to Daegan before opening the doors and letting us in.

Daegan's muscular shoulders drop a tad when the doors are shut behind us, and his pace does too. I end up just blurting out all of the questions swimming a storm up in my mind. "How do you even exist, Daegan? How is that possible to be trapped in here? Who trapped you? Where are your dragons? Are dragons even real? Will I be killed in the Decidere?"

Daegan waves ahead to a corridor that is also empty, but it's somehow warmer in here, not just the temperature but the yellow wallpaper, lush thick carpets, and soft furnishings that seem to invite you in. How big is this place? "I will answer every question you have, Story. Our dragons are real and alive. They are here, underground, below the mansion, and they cannot leave. Our dragons are just as trapped as we are. As for the Decidere, it is up to the deities and dragons if you die or not. Our people are proud to take the Decidere. It is an honour and there is a chance you will bond with a dragon. Even if you aren't seen as worthy of a dragon, the Decidere will help you grow as a person and find who you are. Who your soul is when it's pushed to the extreme. When you let us out into the world, we'll be going to war, with our dragons leading the way, burning the skies and vampyres to dust."

That thought is horrifying. "If your people have not left in five hundred years, how old are you, exactly? How many generations have lived in here? Do you even know what it's like outside?"

He laughs softly. "Story, I imagine we will have many talks over our meals in the months to come. All these questions…which do you want answered first, as each question holds a long answer."

My cheeks brighten under his stare. He is…nice. That's my first impression of the Sun Dynasty king, but I know not to trust the nice people. Usually, they are far worse than the ones who show you they are assholes to begin with. When I don't answer him, he links his hands together behind his back. "The vampyres, have they taken our cities?"

I frown. "I think they warped history, as I don't know any cities that were not built by the vampyres. They like to have us believe that we fae were wild and untamed before they stepped in, that they helped us and we owe them for that. The vampyres rule with an iron fist, and no one escapes their laws if they are born fae." He waits for my every word, and I don't know what to make of it. "The vampyres have five grand cities. They're basically run by the fae to benefit the vampyres. I was born in the breeding district, within the Nightwell city, which is the capital and the largest. It is south of here, actually. Just outside the forest by a few hundred miles."

His voice is thick. "Please, carry on."

"Well, when fae are born, they are usually born into the breeder communities, but there are exceptions born into the others—the blood slaves and the workers. Every fae baby is sent to the breeders' nursery to be fed, brought up and adopted by other families if they don't have parents or family in the breeders. ‘The lessborn fae' are what they call us. Every lessborn fae is tested for powers when they are born, just to make sure they don't belong with the powerborn fae. If you are powerborn, you'd be taken to the powerborn district nursery. For powerborn fae, they basically train to be what their family needs or what their power develops as. Healers, those who give warrior vampyres their powers, those who control the elements to help grow crops and those who can control the mind are used by the royals to find spies and more. I don't know much more. I was never in that part very much."

"I dislike that name ‘lessborn,'" he all but snarls at me, and he blinks, softening his voice. "No fae is less than incredible, including you." No one has called me incredible before. I guess he really doesn't know me. "You told me you were a blood slave. What does that mean?"

"Vampyres have their own system. The nobility—vampyres of exceptional skill, genius or battle skills—are given a fae to feed on as they see fit. The others go to places where the workers and breeders mass donate blood for them to drink. Vampyres only need a glassful a day to survive. I had two owners. One was kind and one was—" I nearly choke on the memories of him. "Not."

Daegan watches me closely, a frown promptly pulling his lips down. Somehow, he doesn't look less handsome frowning. He opens a wooden door, leading me into a well lit room. Four large lanterns hang from the corners of the room, and it's pretty in here. A lot of things are gold, shaped like suns, and I'm getting the general vibe of this place. A massive, plush sun-shaped mat lies in the middle of the room, with a dark wooden desk on it. There's an oil lamp on the desk, plush yellow chairs, and couches around the edges of the room with small tables at their sides. There are several books piled up on the desk, and my fingers itch to rush over, to open them, and to know their secrets. My mother always said I was as nosy as the diamond cat-like creature that stalked the mice in our garden. I guess she was right.

Daegan closes the door behind me, and I hold in my flinch as it shuts. He waits until I take a seat on one of the chairs before he sits in the one opposite, crossing one leg over the other. "I'm sure you're curious about what is going to happen next. I have asked my second-in-command to call a meeting between our dynasties to speak about you. I will be on your side, and I plan to make sure you will be kept in my dynasty, safe for the remainder of the Decidere. But I need to know everything that led you to here so I can convince them I am asking you the right questions."

Rubbing my hands together, I tell him everything as I stare at my mud-soaked leggings. The mud is everywhere, all the way up to my waist, and it's now gone dry, cracking as I move. There's mud on my hands, my bare feet and there's even some splattered on my face and hair as I sit in front of a king who apparently rides a dragon. My mother would be horrified, but I can barely even remember what her voice sounds like now.

While I talk about running through the forest that I researched ahead of time, Daegan pours water into a teapot. He covers the pot with his hands, and I swear they glow for a second before he takes his hands away. He pours two cups from the pot and brings the steaming drinks over, handing me one. "It's camomile and lemon balm, it helps?—"

"I know." It's hard to hold back my tears as I look at the drink. He was trying to be kind, not make me cry. "My best friend was the son of a healer, and his mother used to make me the same tea from her gardens on my bad days. It helped calm me."

Daegan sips on his tea as he leans on the desk. He doesn't ask about the bad days, and he likely thinks I mean from the vampyre who owned me. No, bad days are where my body feels like it's being ripped apart once every six months due to my monthlies, whereas the days made bad by my owner were just another day. "And where is he? This friend of yours? Will he come after you? Will any family?"

"He's dead and no," I barely whisper. "I don't want to talk about him anymore." I can't. I won't tell this stranger about my mother either.

"I understand. My brother died not ten years ago, and I thought there would never be a day my voice wouldn't break when I spoke about him, but here we are," he confidently tells me, and I meet his gold eyes. "Understand, Story, it's not safe in here for you. You came here at an interesting time, right before the Decidere, which hasn't been done in years because of the wars between our dynasties. We are at peace now, have been for nine years, but it's in our nature to become explosive and violent creatures when caged."

Never cage a wolf, my mother once said, because once their mind has rotted, there are only teeth which promise death. "Explain it to me. Some of the way that you live. You're the Sun Dynasty king, and you said that Ziven was the Moon Dynasty king. Are there others?"

"There were five dynasties once, before the doom. The doom is the day our ancestors got trapped in here, and the dragons too," he explains as I drink the tea. I know I'm going to need more than tea to calm my beating heart and soothe the thunder in my veins. "Three kings ruled our many cities. Sun, Moon, and Dawn Dynasties. The Twilight Dynasty and Dusk Dynasty were killed off years ago in wars, years before the doom, and their people scattered between our own. In here, I rule. The Sun Dynasty is in charge and has been for years since Ziven left us alone after the last war. My older brother was happy to rule and taught me everything I needed to know before he died. We needed a ruler."

"And Dawn?" I ask, thoroughly interested in their politics now. If I'm stuck in here, which I'm getting the feeling I am as I haven't seen a door to leave yet, I need to learn as much as I can to keep myself safe.

"The Dawn Dynasty is here in small numbers, like the Moon Dynasty, but their ruler is not interested in ruling. He wants peace and, most importantly, a way out of here. I'm sure he might finally lift his head out of his books to come and meet you when he hears."

I might join him with the books. "So, the dynasties are based on the day and night? Dawn, Sun, and Moon? Do you all share this mansion and live together?"

"Correct, but we live apart in some sense. Our power comes from our dynasty. Sunlight is my power," he answers, rising to his feet and coming to me. He takes my empty cup, putting them both back on the tray by the pot. "This mansion is far bigger than it looks, with over three thousand rooms. I rule everywhere except for the Moon Dynasty floor, the bottom floor of the mansion before the caves. I will ask that you don't go down there, but other than that rule, you're free to walk around. I will insist someone is with you for the beginning if I'm not around myself. You're new to us, and we were never good at trusting strangers."

"Then why are you helping me?"

He looks at the desk, at the book lying open. "I was reading a story when you arrived about a saviour of our people, and I felt the mansion shake right under my feet. I felt compelled to find you, and I'm trusting that feeling. I was meant to help you."

"Can I read it?" I question. He smiles, picking the book up and handing it to me. I run my finger across the leather binding before tightening my grip around my new book. It's been so long since I read a new book, not just re-read the same books on vampyres. "Are you sure you don't mind me borrowing it?"

"Don't tell me the ending, Story."

I smile back at him. He is charming, and he has given me a book. In any other circumstances, this would make us great friends. "You never answered my question about how old you are. I know some powerborn fae can live a lot longer than others. Hundreds of years, apparently."

"Yes, we can," he answers me, but still not at the same time. He barely looks like he's more than thirty years old, but appearances can be deceiving. "To grow old in here is a lucky circumstance. Unfortunately, there is something in here that attacks us, kills us. A sickness that spreads from touch. Once you have it, it's impossible to survive. It took both my father and my mother. We haven't seen the sickness in eight years, so you're fine right now."

Another thing to worry about. Great. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"But you're here. It has to mean something," he repeats with hope burning in his voice like the sun, and I already don't like the pressure I feel from him. He thinks I'm a magic ticket out of here. He is going to lose it when he realises I'm a worthless blood slave fae who isn't fantastic at anything. The door's knocked twice and Daegan pulls his eyes from me to the door. "Come in, Etena."

She walks in, holding the door slightly ajar. "Her room is ready."

Daegan nods and offers me his hand to help me up. I take it and notice how warm he is to touch. "I think perhaps it's best if you rest and have a bath. Etena is my cousin, and she will show you the way. I am in the room opposite you. If you need anything, just knock."

I let go of his hand, noticing I've been clasping onto it for far too long. "Thank you for offering to protect me. You don't even know me. Where I come from, people don't help strangers."

Daegan inclines his head. "Rest well, Story."

Etena opens the door for me, and I walk out, waiting for her as she quietly speaks to Daegan out of earshot before she comes back, shutting the door behind her. The very tall woman places her hands on her hips, looking me over. "Did you run through a mud lake on your way here?"

"Just the forest, no lake," I answer, but she is already moving, walking down a pathway that arches into a circular room. There are three enormous fireplaces made of brick, in square-shaped blocks in the centre, with many, many benches, couches and lush rugs that have people sitting on them—fae-tipped ears and all—and they are laughing. The laughter slowly stops the further I follow Etena into the room, noticing the many, many heads turning to stare. Etena moves faster across the room until we are in another corridor, and the sound of chatter still follows us.

"Did Daegan explain you're safe here?" she questions. "In this part of the mansion."

"He told me," I simply answer. I'm exhausted and done with conversation tonight. I need to process everything that just happened and figure out exactly how I'm going to get out of here before they throw me into the Decidere. I'm not built for trials or dragons or any kind of combat. I've never been trained to fight and, knowing me, I'd stab myself with a sword before learning how to swing it at an enemy. We head down the corridors, which are not so empty now, but anyone here steps aside, all giving me strange looks. I can't imagine what it must be like to them—to never see someone new except a baby. Actually… "Where are the children? I haven't seen any."

She answers quickly. "Kept safely away during the Decidere. It isn't for children to see." Etena opens a door. This one is guarded like Daegan's study, and the guards step aside for us to go through. "These are the royal bedrooms. Only you, Daegan, and I sleep here. If you see anyone else in here, run. Kill them if you have to. Daegan would kill them either way for entering his private rooms."

I gulp. "Kill them?"

She turns to face me, crossing her slender arms. "Yes, kill them? Why do you look so pale at the idea?" I don't answer her with the truth. I've never killed anyone, I don't like blood, and I'm not brave. I'm not a fucking warrior. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, Story. I understand trauma very well, and looking in your eyes, I know you've been through a lot already. I have a soft spot for people like us."

"Like us?" I frown.

"Survivors. One day, we will exchange our battle stories, cry over them, and bond like friends. Tonight is not the time while you're tired and injured," she answers, and bonding with anyone seems really unlikely for me when I want to get out of here, run away and pretend none of this happened. How does she know I'm injured? I've been hiding my pain since I got here, something I know I'm good at. "Telling you to trust me is pointless, isn't it?"

I raise an eyebrow. "I don't trust people. I don't trust anyone." Except one person and he is dead. He died to set me free. He died for nothing. My fingers tighten on the book to the point it creaks. I don't mean to be hostile towards her, but today has pushed every inch of my soul to the breaking point. I've not even had a moment to grieve my best friend, my only friend in the world, and how he's just gone. He's gone and he won't be coming back. I'm not sure how I'll ever be able to process that. I only need to try to protect myself and not give up. I can't go back to that dark place I was before my best friend promised to get me out. I gave up on life, I gave up on wanting to fight or live or breathe, and right now that feeling is crawling up my spine, readying to flood my mind with the darkness again. Without him, I know I won't be able to climb out of that place.

Giving up isn't an option. Not anymore, not since he died. Etena touches my shoulder, and I focus on the present, on her. "I left some clothes on your bed for you, and I ran a healing bath. We don't get hot water in here, it's lukewarm, but…it's better than nothing. The water has tonics in it made by the Sun healers with dragon tears, and it heals everything."

Dragon tears?

"Welcome to the Sun Dynasty, Story," Etena says, bowing her head. "I believe you're going to surprise us all, more than you already have." Etena walks away, leaving through the doors we came in. This pathway has four doors, one I'm in front of, and the one opposite must be Daegan's. The carpet is worn, like it's been walked on dozens of times, and so is the carpet near the door next to mine, but the areas around the fourth door and mine look almost new.

I walk into the room and shut the door behind me, noticing a flimsy lock, and I click it shut. If these fae are as strong as the powerborn fae, that lock will do nothing to stop them getting in, but I feel better either way. The room is simple, yellow wallpaper like the hallways and wooden cladding panels, which line half the walls. An oil lantern burns on the bedside counter, and I see the bed has soft white sheets as I place the book on the counter. There's a window, and I go straight over, looking for a handle, but there's nothing. Just a dark-rimmed window with lines down it in a cross pattern, revealing nothing but dark trees as far as I can see. I touch the glass. "Why did you trap me in here? What do you want?"

I'm talking to a mansion wall. I've gone mad. Muttering to myself, I strip my mud-soaked clothes off before climbing into the simmering clear bath, soaking down into the warmth. The pain melts away almost instantly from my ribs, from every small nick and bruise I have on me. I sink fully into the water before rising back out, my swollen cut lip back to normal. My heart is beating fast as I look down at my stomach, my wrists, and legs…hoping the vampyre bite scars will be gone—they aren't. The silver scars look as horrible as usual, and not an inch of my skin on my stomach, lower arms or legs doesn't have a mark on them. He may have scarred me, but I'm free of him.

The bath doesn't last long before it's freezing cold, and I wash my hair with the lavender-scented soap that smells incredible. After climbing out, I glance at the clothes on the bed as I dry myself off. The gold silky top pulls across my chest, and strips of satin fall down my upper arms. Skin-tight black trousers and clean leather boots, along with new underwear that is all lace—I slide them on, admiring the delicate material and the fact it all perfectly fits. This is much better than a red dress. I haven't had a choice in what I wear in so long, and if I'm being honest with myself, I've only ever known how to dress for my station. Red, for a blood slave. It has made me really hate wearing red.

I find a brush on the side and brush my long hair until it's smooth and all the knots from the forest are gone. I braid the front part of my hair around my face until it falls to one side.

Once I have nothing left to do, I climb into the bed with the book, opening the first page. It's an odd book, no title page to be seen in the first few blank pages. The first page is noted and one sentence: "To my reader—I was a dragon rider, and if you're reading this, I must be dead." How strange. There is a name scribbled in the corner, but I can only make out the letter B, the rest is scrubbed away. The next pages are the same, one or two sentences about someone who was a dragon rider and something about stones. I like mysteries, and this book is that.

I close my eyes for just a second, my head dropping. I see his face, pure terror and horror written in his eyes. I see his blood pouring onto the stone. A sob echoes out of my throat first, right before I'm weeping and sliding down into the bedsheets. I don't know how long I cry, at least until it feels like I can breathe again. Wiping my tears away with my hand, I pause as a floorboard creaks. I barely get to look up from under my blanket before I see a shadow standing over my bed, massive male arms reaching for me. On instinct, I kick the man straight in the balls, and his deep, shocked voice echoes. "FUCK!"

He steps back with a groan, and I rush off the bed, running for the door. A hand wraps around my ankle, and I fall face-first on the floorboards, slamming my nose into the ground. I cry out in pain only for a foul-smelling rag to be shoved over my mouth. I barely breathe in the air for a second before everything spins and the darkness becomes a very welcome old friend.