Page 37 of The Book of Legends
His lips quirk, a half-smirk that is all derision, no warmth. “Well, aren’t you?”
I clench my fingers around the silverware, the cool metal biting into my skin, grounding me.
“No,” I snap. “I don’t like you. If anything, I hate you.” Every word is a stone hurled at his perfect façade, but his expression remains unchanged, his calmness infuriating. “You’re violent. You kill innocent people for protecting the ones they love. You’ve kept me here against my will, insulted me, and are so stubborn you won’t believe anything I say when I’ve done nothing.”
The last word hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, I think I see a crack—a fissure in his marble expression. But then, he smirks, and it’s gone.
“I saved you. Twice. Considering…”
I lean forward, my glasses slipping down the bridge of my nose, and I push them back up with my finger. “When was the second time?”
His fingers drum against the wood table, a slow, deliberate rhythm, the only sound in the room. “You think Malachiwould have let you walk out of the courtyard? He would have incinerated you if it wasn’t for me. So…you’re welcome.”
He snorts, but it’s more animalistic, a sound of annoyance.
“And yeah, I am keeping you here because I don’t trust women that show up out of thin air and expect me to believe they didn’t come from Elariya. The only humans that could ever cross into Nythia are those ordered by Therion. And trust me, the last thing they would want is peace. Even if it were possible to cross, I doubt they would be traitors to the king and risk their lives by coming here knowing it’s a death sentence.”
His words unravel a thread, and I find myself pulling at it, needing to know how deep the darkness runs. What kind of monster would want to kill his own brother? This is more than jealousy or hate.
“Why does Therion want to kill you so badly?”
He doesn’t flinch, but his eyes darken, the gray churning like storm clouds, swallowing the light. A muscle jumps in his jaw, the only sign of tension. His shoulders pull back, his body a blade held taut, every part of him coiled and ready to strike like I’m supposed to know the reason and I’m playing him. “Because I am the threat to his existence. I represent everything he wishes to be, and he’s afraid people will know the truth.”
The truth.
The question I want to ask hangs like a glimmering thread I want to pull to see what lies beneath the mask. But my focus is on surviving, on finding a way back home to pick up the pieces of my shattered life.
His voice softens, but not with kindness––with calculation. “My people depend on me to keep them safe, and I’m not going to believe some woman that shows up claiming they’re lost when I know what Therion is capable of. It’s no secret that humans picked a side, and the few that have pledged loyalty are well known here in Nythia. You could save us all the aggravation andtell me the truth. I might show leniency and make your death painless.”
I swallow, my tongue sandpaper, my mouth a desert. “I already told you.”
His expression hardens, his movements sharp as he shovels food into his mouth. “Fine.” He chews, each bite a reminder of his control, his ability to consume and discard. “I’ll wait until he decides to show up, and then you’ll see the error of your ways. Death will meet you quickly.”
I want to tell him that he’ll see the error in his, but I clamp my mouth shut. I take a bite of the stewed fruit, the sweetness cloying, but I force it down.
I’ll never know when I’ll have the chance to eat again, and I need my strength. He thinks Therion will come.
There’s no question; I have to plan my escape. I can see it in his calculating eyes; he doesn’t plan on letting me go.
Malachi’s wings cut through the air, each powerful beat sending ripples through the overcast sky. Dead tree branches cracked and splintered beneath his massive frame as he descended into the narrow clearing of the village. The dragon’s landing was a calculated thunder, his claws sinking into the ashen earth. His low growl was a vibration that trembled through my bones. Dark birds scattered, reminding me of crows, their black flecks against the blood-hued horizon.
Once Kainen undoes the straps, his hands are at my waist, causing a shiver to run down my legs before I register that we are safely on the ground. But that’s impossible. I can barely reach the straps of the saddle even on my toes.
But I don’t have time to ponder how he did it. I feel discomfort in my legs. The muscles in my inner thighs protest in knots from my sore muscles, or the tiny needles pricking underneath my skin from holding on. But none of it matters right now; none of it could mask his touch or the way it lingers––hot and unyielding––before he turns away, already adjusting the straps of the saddle.
“It’s okay, Malachi,” Kainen says soothingly. “Stay here. I can hold it until it’s time to go. If anything goes south, you take off.”
I watch as the dragon stares at him silently. They must read each other somehow.
“How did you––“ I begin.
“How did I what?” His voice, as always, a blade with a dulled edge––sharp enough to wound, yet too heavy to be swift.
“Get us down so quickly? It was like…you bent the air around us.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, a gesture more mocking than amused. “Dragons are more than wings and flame, Selene. Their riders…more than mere men.”
Before I can ask for more or why we are here, he moves like a predator through the smoldering mist. “This is the Gorge,” he explains, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile calm. “One of Nithya’s last sanctuaries; it supplies our food. Our life.”
