Reluctantly, Caelan nodded and closed his mouth. Rayne sent equally threatening looks to Eno and Adrian. If the new guy opened his mouth, Rayne was prepared to remove his tongue with one of his knives.
“Is it safe for us to walk openly on the street with you?” Rayne asked as Mio left the last bit of cover offered by the dense vegetation and motioned for them to accompany her down the sidewalk.
“Sure,” their guide replied in an easy tone. “No one is going to bother you. With the mood the clan leader is in right now, no one is going to be stupid enough to run off tonight and tell tales.”
Unwilling to be left behind, they quickened their pace to keep up with Mio. Everyone who spotted them on the street stopped and stared. Understandable, considering they probably didn’t see many people from outside of the Isle of Stone. But the truly disturbing thing was that most of their attention was drawn to Caelan. Did they recognize the King of Erya? Or could the dragons sense something different about him because of the gods?
Rayne made a mental note and tucked it away along with the hundreds of other thoughts he’d had since they met Mio. He took in the buildings and all the signs of technology. Computers and cell phones, cars, and neon lights. It was all very much like Stormbreak and even Sirelis.
The one stark difference was the fashion. Both the men and women were dressed in long, form-fitting robes that stretched to their ankles and had voluminous sleeves. They could be seen in every color of the rainbow and seemed to be of exquisite quality. Even the plain ones were quite lovely, but Mio’s was among the nicest with the fur lining and creative stitchwork. Was that an indication of her standing in society or maybe her wealth?
But then, she’d said she was a servant in the Takahashi manor…
So many questions.
While the robes were in wide variety, the collars that everyone wore were almost identical, and they did not have the feel of being a fashion accessory. He might not have seen it, but he suspected that even Mio wore one, but it was hidden under the high neck of her robe.
Something about the Isle of Stone left Rayne wishing they were back in Zastrad surrounded by the death worshipers. The world of the dragons was starting to look far more deadly.
SIX
Drayce Ladon
Drayce struggled to get comfortable. His damn cell wasn’t nearly big enough for him to stand up in, let alone stretch out. Stupid tail.
Every time he moved, he hit his head on the ceiling or his nose on the bars or his wings on everything.
His father was keeping him in his dragon form to torture him while he was imprisoned. And, of course, the bastard knew that his every instinct was screaming to fly.
Prior to returning to the Isle of Stone, it had been years since he’d last flown. He’d forgotten what the rush of the wind felt like along his scales, the feel of it lifting his wings and body higher into the air. It had been the one bright spot in the entire disaster.
You lied to me. You said you told me everything, but you lied.
The last words Caelan shouted at him rang over and over in his head. Drayce curled his body into an even tighter ball and tucked his nose under his long tail. He didn’t want to think about that night, but the memory replayed in his head regardless of what he wanted.
Fear had gripped his heart before Caelan had even laid a hand on the godstone to wake the Dead God, but when his friend had been thrown back in the next second, gasping for air and looking pale as death, Drayce knew something had gone wrong. There had been no time. One moment Caelan was smiling at him and in the next, he was gone. Dead.
Caelan couldn’t be gone. The King of Erya had a grand destiny to meet with the gods and defeat Zyros. He was supposed to save them all. Not die in a remote cave on Mount Langbo.
But more than that, Caelan was his. It wasn’t a matter of his failing to keep safe the man he’d sworn to protect with his life. He loved Caelan. He’d loved him for years. It had started as love for a friend, but over the past couple of years, it had grown into something more. Drayce had pressed it down, ignored it in favor of preserving the happiness they had.
He had vague memories of Rayne and Eno trying to calm him, but he hadn’t wanted to be calm. Rage and pain had filled every cell of his being. He’d needed revenge; if he couldn’t have Caelan, everyone needed to pay for his death.