Jori presses something against the cut at my temple. It stings like a motherfucker, but I keep my face impassive and silently swallow the pain.
“So who was it, then?” Aeson demands coolly, doing his best to give Lorn a run for his money on the frosty fucker front.
“I don’t knowwhokilled him. I only knowwhatkilled him.”
“Anyone else confused?” Chastain announces, brushing his fingers through his perfectly tousled blond hair. He looks around the room as though he’s searching for someone who will explain.
I huff out a sigh that morphs into a small hiss when Jori presses the same stinging shit to the cut on my lower lip. I fix my gaze on the dimming sky and toe a corner of my mind I don’t like to spend much time in.
“I was born near The Wells and brought up there until my father called me and my mother to Four Tiers when I was six. He thought it was time to announce my existence and claim me as a Tenebrae, as kindred, before I got much older. The few other Syphons who’d successfully sired children outside of their bonds were going to do the same. It was supposed to happen after the Blood Rite that year.”
“I’m done with that part,” Jori interrupts, tossing a blood-stained strip of gauze into a waste bin on one of the carts. “If my magic works, it’ll feel warm. If it starts to get too hot or uncomfortable in any other way, let me know.”
I nod and hold my breath as Jori presses his fingers against the cut on the side of my head. It starts to warm and then it tingles. For a moment, all I can do is marvel as the pain ebbs and my skin begins to knit back together.
“Holy shit,” I gasp when Jori pulls his hand away.
He smiles and gives me a satisfied nod.
“You would have come in handy the last four months,” I joke, dropping my gaze to my boot and the magic band it hides around my ankle.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask the Healer if he can fix scars, but I don’t know if they know about that, and I don’t want to draw any attention to them if I don’t have to.
Jori presses the pad of his finger to my lip and heals it too, before moving on to the bruises on my arms and wrists and then the scratch on my thigh. I shake off my awe and focus.
“They attacked the king’s quarters,” I continue, looking around the room as though it’s suddenly going to morph into my father’s. “It was late. I should have been in bed, but I’d been cooped up in the room all day, and I was having fun playing tag with my brothers. My father, his Wing, and a few of the other Syphons were sitting at a big table, going over the plan to announce me and the other children.
“The next thing I knew, insurgents were breaking down the doors. Everyone with a dragon immediately tried to shift, which is when they discovered the Syphons couldn’t. The dragons that could grabbed the king and tried to escape with him, but the tower was being attacked from the outside too. We were trapped. Two guards grabbed Brooks, Novak, and Ronin, trying to get them out a different way. I followed, but the guards carrying them were moving too fast, and I got separated. So I did the only thing I could and hid in an armoire.”
I don’t tell them that Enslee hid right alongside me. That we held each other and cried, shushing the other when the sobs and terrified gasps echoed too loudly in the small, enclosed space.
“I saw the rebels kill my mother and attack my father. At first, it seemed like they wanted to take him somewhere. They were talking about transports and how to hide him, but there was an argument. Then, out of nowhere, one group of insurgents killed the others. After that, they went hunting for the queen and the scions.”
I clench and unclench my fists, blinking away the emotion that tries to rise and blur my vision.
“They killed Brooks, Novak, and Ronin, one by one in front of my father and their mother.” I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the lump that’s forming there. “They saved my father for last.”
The room is silent, like everyone’s afraid to move or even breathe. I drop my head and force myself to get the rest out.
“Thrashers held him down. Channelers drowned him over and over again. Burners tortured him with acid and fire. Then they literally ripped him apart. A Shield warded the room to give them time and protection. Wyverns and sorcai helped attack the rookery, but it was dragons who barbarically and systematically snuffed out the lives of my kindred that night.”
Condemnation and ire pervade the look I level at all of the drakes as I look around. My eyes meet Aeson’s and then Lorn’s, and for a moment, I let my mask drop. Let them see the full extent of the anguish and anger coursing through me.
I could tell them about all the hours Enslee and I have spent going through vid feeds and pictures, trying to identify which members of The Horde were responsible. If they only knew the way we’ve agonized over every detail, recounting each one to the other survivors until none of it even feels real anymore. But they’ve peeked through enough of my cracks for one night. It’s time to retreat.
“In one night, almost everyone who knew I existed died. It saved my life. No one knew to look for me. No one knew I saw everything. No one knew I survived. I wish I could tell you who killed my father, but they were in full scale armor, their faces were covered. I didn’t grow up here and have no idea who they were. The Horde doesn’t have a database showing what each dragon looks like in full armor. That’s the only way I could try to find them.”
I scan the different colors of scale armor in the room as I negotiate with my exhaustion, promising just a little longer and then I’ll give in. I study one pair of bright blue princely eyes and then the other as I wrap a thick layer of indifference around me and make myself more comfortable on the plush bench.
“Any more questions on why I’ve stayed away from The Horde all this time, or does that about cover it?”
Chapter 13
“SO WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN for the last sixty-two years?” the drake in the blood red armor asks.
“Who are you? Can I get some introductions at least before all of you continue to paw through every facet of my life?” I ask, aiming a critical look at Lorn. “You’re being a shitty host.”
He rolls his eyes at the jibe.
