“A curse is the use of magic to hinder or oppress. Over a century ago, Zhoric stole the power of a god for himself. Those who opposed him, like myself, were cursed by his newly claimed magic to remain in our dragon forms at night with our minds turned into brutal beasts that craved violence and desolation. By day, we were trapped in our human forms. There was a battle. As you might imagine, dragons who cannot organize themselves or transform by day didn’t fare well against those who sided with Zhoric. It took only one night and one day for us to realize we needed a place that could protect us—and keep others safe from us—so I created the Realm.”
Ozias is claiming the Sar Dyeus has the power of the gods themselves. What could he do against that? “How?”
“I have a unique power that allows me to replicate magic. I took the curse that was cast on us and molded it into a barrier. Anyone who entered would fall prey to the same fate we had.”
My brows draw together as I try to make sense of everything I’ve heard, everything I’ve seen. “Why did the Sar Dyeus do this?” I ask, not brave enough to use his name. “I imagine he had his reasons for placing such horrendous curses on us all.”
“Not all the events that followed his coming to power were entirely in his plans, but it doesn’t matter. It happened, it’s still happening, and Zhoric got to keep what he wanted.”
“And what was that?”
“Control. Power.”
I lift my chin. “You realize you’re expecting me to believe that you’re the victims and the dragons of Dyeus are the enemy? They’ve protected us from you for years.” I say the words, but I find that I don’t really feel them. My transformation last night has awakened something in me and it’s hungry for more.
“No, not from us.” Ozias picks up the glass decanterfilled with amber liquid, unstops it, and pours himself two fingers worth.
“Oh no? Need I remind you that I transformed last night and went completely out of my mind with violence? That you nearly bit my head off yourself the first time we met?”
Ozias raises a brow at me while lifting the bottle. The smell hits my nose and it’s familiar enough that I understand what it is. I lift a finger. He pours me a smaller portion.
“You needn’t remind me of anything,” he says, passing it to me. Our fingers touch and our gazes meet. He doesn’t let go of the glass. “The power your transformation revealed was felt by all of us here. I wouldn’t be surprised if Zhoric and the strongest in Dyeus sensed it. If the very gods themselves did.” He lets go of my glass and takes up his own. “But no, the creatures you kill are something else. We don’t leave the Realm at night, and most of us don’t leave during the day, not unless we want to tussle with a dragon of Dyeus when we can’t even shift at will.”
There’s more to know about the dragons I’ve killed, who they are, but my chief concern right now is him. “You left,” I remind him.
He smirks around the glass raised to his lips. “I’m special,” he says before taking a sip.
I give him a placating smile, and he must know it because he chuckles. I twist my glass in my hands, watching a thin layer of liquid cling to the sides. “What do you mean by the power my transformation revealed?” I recall all the long looks I got while walking here. I assumed that all new faces were met with the same reaction, but perhaps not.
“You tell me.” He takes a long sip. “Why don’t you tell me your story to see if we can figure out how this all adds up?”
I take a drink, then wet my lips after swallowing down the burn. “I don’t know if I want to help you figure out anything at all, at least until I see Ninon. I don’t even know if she’s really here.” Aside from my own life and my sister’s, right now, she’s the only thing that matters to me.Everything he’s saying could be a lie. Everything Atlanta said could be a lie. I can’t deny what I’m feeling inside my body, though. It’s as if that missing piece I’ve felt my whole life has finally been placed in the palm of my hand; I only need to twist it until it fits right.
Ozias snorts. “You were wrecked when we arrived, but not deafened. You didn’t hear her screaming for you? She’d been so quiet up until then. Certainly didn’t expect that level of profanity from her.”
She had told him to fuck off. I draw my lips into my mouth, stifling my smile, considering what I should do. Our eyes meet, his golden gaze blazing with hunger. Desire. And while I know that look all too well, he has good reasons for wanting to know about me, and I don’t pretend it’s anything otherwise. Still, I’m here, for better or worse, and I can’t leave without risking my life, or someone else’s. And there’s a large part of me that wants to know more about this, whether it’s a lie or not. Even with the violence and loss of control last night, I’ve never felt more powerful, more myself. “Where should I begin?”
Ozias tilts his head, loose hair falling from the knot at his crown. “Let’s start at your selection ceremony, shall we?”
And I so tell him how the Sar Dyeus deemed Ninon and me undesirable, the heat I felt in my chest when he did. I tell him of the first time I saw Alixor, and how he wanted me immediately.
“The Sar Dyeus reminded him I was marked as undesirable. Alixor’s father, Selnor, even protested the selection at first.” I shrug. “Alixor was adamant though, and so he got to have me. By the time I went to Dyeus, Alixor’s father didn’t seem at all concerned.”
Ozias hums. “I know Selnor’s elahi,” he begins, but elaborates at my curious expression. “Elahi is a unique power that only some have, which makes us stronger than others; or as Dyeus call themselves,elite—but Alixor was born only fifty years ago. I never found out what his was. He must have sensed your power with whatever elahi he had. My suspicion is Zhoric placed a concealment on youduring your selection ceremony; otherwise others would have wanted to breed with you, too.”
My eyes widen as I remember Alixor’s words. “Last night, before Alixor attacked me, he said something in that vein. About my potential?”
Ozias smirks, his head shaking as a low chuckle rises from deep in his chest.
“What?” I place my empty glass down on the table next to us. When I lean in, he does, too.
“I think the Sar Dyeus is about shitting himself right now. The question is, will he try to get you back, or is he going to let this thing play out here?”
I straighten in my seat, pulse pounding in my ears. “He can’t do that. You said I’d be safe here.”
“Oh, you’re safe here,” he says, but then he shakes his head. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways for him to get to you.” Ozias taps his knuckles against his mouth, then stands and paces a little in front of me. “The Sar Dyeus wants no other in the world to have more power than him, and I think you might end up being his match. Which is exactly what we need.”
My fingers curl around the arms of the chair as I watch him pace, figuring things out at breakneck speed while I rush to catch up. “Did you know this? Before you took me?”
