Chapter
One
June tells me someone must keep a record. That if I do not, the true story will be forgotten. I do not want to remember, but I cannot forget either. I fear the sound of their screams will forever echo in my mind.
—Lady Anabeth, Royal Scribe’s Apprentice, D’anna
Every single citybell in D’anna clanged insistently, the shrill echoes a clear warning to the mountain capital’s residents: take cover, hide, and gather any weapons you have.
The bells only rang in dire circumstances.
In the year she had been living at the Sisters of Arcane’s newest temple outpost perched on a mountainside at the edge of the city, Nya Evva hadn’t heard them. In fact, she had been told many times by the sisters that they hadn’t rang once in her lifetime.
The capital, ruled by the aged mortal queen, Cion Livii, had been a center of trade and knowledge for many years now. The queen was beloved, the Kingdom of Aren a peaceful place, though Nya understood it hadn’t always been that way. Her parents had foregone telling her the details of just what the costof that peace had been, but she filled in some of the blanks from others since arriving here.
“We need to go below,” Sister Jada insisted, tugging on Nya’s hand. The priestess’ hazel-gold eyes were wide, shining with a terror that contrasted sharply with her typical calm, no-nonsense demeanor. “Hurry.”
“But how do we even know if?—”
“Nya, it’s for your safety.” Jada’s complexion, though usually fair, was now completely devoid of color. “We need to runnow.”
“What about the others? There isn’t room for all the sisters and apprentices below. And what of the citizens, especially the ones without magic? I could help?—”
“No,” Jada said sharply, her gaze swinging around the airy meditation room, as if afraid danger was already lurking nearby.
It was empty, aside from the two of them, but Nya could hear footsteps pounding on the roof garden above, in the hallways beyond. Past the smooth, bone-white pillars, open to the cool mountain air, she heard screams echoing from the city. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose.
Dark hair had come loose from Jada’s intricate braids, framing her flushed, frenzied face as she scanned the horizon. “Nya, I promised your mother I would keep you safe. And if this is what I fear it is…” She trailed off, her hand tightening around Nya’s. “You cannot be seen.”
“Whatdoyou fear it is?”
Jada’s throat bobbed, and she looked back at Nya as she whispered, “Rumors have begun to drift from Arcadia of a new god. Someone the principals were unaware of. Someone who would be very interested in you.”
“Why?” Nya asked, her jaw trembling, just as the roar of a dragon echoed through the slopes. The sound rattled down to her bones, striking a chord deep within the frantic pounding of her blood.
Jada shook her head and a tear fell down her cheek. “Gods forgive me. I thought the rumors were just that.”
“What do you?—”
Jada leapt in front of Nya abruptly, and the entire temple trembled and shook. They both crashed to the ground as stone and debris rained down around them. Pain lanced up Nya’s left leg, but she could not see what had happened, could not understand how one moment, they had been standing in the untouched study room and now were buried under rubble, screams echoing somewhere nearby.
“J–Jada?”
The priestess had covered Nya’s body with her own, protecting her from the worst of the sudden blow. The dust cleared just enough to see again, and a choked gasp escaped Nya as she saw Jada’s empty, wide eyes above her. Something was impaled in her abdomen, warm blood leaking from the wound and covering the turquoise wrap dress Nya wore, staining the fabric a deep crimson.
The dragon roared again, much closer this time—maybe even directly above her.
Nya reached blindly for a thread of the web connecting her parents, their dragons, and her. Her mother had always insisted she work harder at strengthening her ability to reach them down their mental pathway, but she had never taken it seriously. All three of the mortal kingdoms and Arcadia, the land of the gods, were at peace and had been since before her birth. Besides, she knew her parent’s dragons only ever let her in as a courtesy. She was not truly bound to that place, and it often felt odd to intrude.
Still, she tried, gasping for air under the crushing press of the wreckage and the weight of Jada’s still body.
Heles. Thessilnn.
The dragons did not respond.
Mamma. Papa. Please.
Nothing.
