Page 40 of Promised in Blood

Irub my throbbing temples and screw my eyes closed until the swell of voices in my head calms to silence. How is it that my gift grows both weaker and stronger at the same time? I am less able to tune out all of the noise, but when I focus, I can hear so much more than I could before. It has been two weeks since I bonded with Ophelia, and the shift in my power since the moment I claimed her is surely no coincidence.

I lean back in my chair and stare out at the gray clouds rolling in. For once, it is merely the weather changing in Havenwood rather than anything to do with Ophelia’s mood. I stare at thesky and nothing else for a few moments, recalling the long-ago days of my youth when some of the most fearsome and powerful creatures who ever lived roamed those skies. As a child and later a man of House Drakos with the gift of communicating with such powerful beings, I was considered blessed beyond all others. Such a shame I have not been able to use that gift for almost a thousand years.

A shudder runs down my spine like a dark shadow passing over my soul.

Is that really you, old friend?Her voice is as familiar to me as if I had heard it only yesterday. But it cannot be. It is impossible.

Are you here in the netherworld?

I ignore her question.Elpis, is that really you?

Who else would it be, Dragon Whisperer?

An unexpected laugh falls from my mouth at that name.Time has done nothing to dull your razor-sharp wit, I see.

Her deep, rumbling laugh echoes around my head, reminding me of happier times when dragons roamed this earth as freely as any creature.

I have thought of you often, my old friend, she says, her voice tinged with sadness.

And I you.

Tell me who sent you to the netherworld, and I will tear off his head on your behalf. Or is it a she?

I rub a hand through my beard.I am not in the netherworld. I am still here in the mortal realm.

So your powers are now capable of traveling beyond the veil that separates the world of men from the damned?

I cannot fathom why that would be, but as surely as we are having the conversation, it must be true.It seems so.

The question I need to ask her sticks in my throat, so I clear it. I already know the answer, for it resides deep within my soul.Yet still, I must hear it from her, or I will forever wonder.I had a wife and two daughters, Elpis. Arethey?—

They are not here, friend.They were pure of soul and took their rightful place amongst the stars.

My relief is tinged with despair. I knew they were not in the netherworld, for if I had believed they were, I would have followed them without a second’s hesitation. Yet her assurance is a balm to a wound I have nursed for over five hundred years.Thank you, Elpis.

Now there is the other question I am loath to ask, for the answer may destroy me.

I also had a son. Lucian?I hold my breath as I await her response.

There is no child of the Dragon Whisperer in the netherworld, my friend. I assure you.

Cool air floods my lungs. I knew in my heart that he was not dead. It is a bittersweet feeling to have irrefutable evidence that my son is not in the netherworld. He lives, and that is both profound and terrifying.

Even more concerning is that his hatred for me somehow allowed him to sever our bond centuries ago. The sting of his betrayal is never far from my thoughts; however, Elpis’s voice stops me from falling into that particular black hole.I was so very sorry to hear of the demise of the elementai, Alexandros. But the blind arrogance did not surprise me. To think they could vanquish an entire species and not suffer the consequences.She snorts, and I can almost see the thick black smoke curling from her giant nostrils.

Your kind knew better than most of the foolishness found in so many of the younger generations, Elpis.The foolishness that set sons against mothers, brothers against sisters. The mangled pieces of my heart twinge with a fresh wound.

I once hoped that we would one day return to the mortal realm.She sighs.Alas, things do not seem to have improved since the last of the dragons left over nine centuries ago.

No, they have not.

The door to my office bursts open, and Ophelia bounds inside, her blue eyes wide and shining and her hair mussed like she just got out of bed. Her excitement vibrates through the room, so palpable that even if I were not so in tune with her, I would nevertheless feel it. She closes the door with a soft click before turning back to me and whisper-shouting, “Are you actually talking to adragon?”

Once more, I slam shut the door to the vault containing my memories of Lucian. Giving her my attention, I cannot help the small smile that curves my lips. I should not be surprised she can hear me. It requires more energy than I anticipated to block her out, and I am painfully aware that I have no desire to do so. “What have I warned you about staying out of my head, little one?”

“I wasn’t in your head,” she insists, crossing the room before perching herself on my lap and snaking her arms around my neck. Instinctively, I wrap my own arms around her, pulling her close. “You were in mine. Or at least Elpis was.”

I frown. “You heard her in your own head?”

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