Page 66 of Of Blood and Banes
Sethan takes a sip of his own drink. “Yes, we have an academy for dragon riders in the northwestern part of the continent.”
“So…it’s not just the seven of you?”
“No. Many have gone through the academy. Though, our numbers have dwindled significantly since Cyrus’s death.”
“Why?”
“He led the academy. And while he never had a dragon of his own, he trained all the cadets in how to bond them. After he died, no one was able to train cadets as well as he had. And since we lost the lesser rings when King Aaric took the throne, people have become less inclined to become dragon riders.”
I glance sideways at him. “What lesser rings?”
Sethan sighs, but when we make eye contact his exasperation wanes. “Lesser rings were created to manipulate dragons’ magic by their bonded riders. Back before Aaric ruled, if you graduated from the academy within the top ten percent of your class, you’d be immediately placed in a position of whatever field you were studying. The leaders of those fields were ones who bore lesser rings. But Aaric destroyed all of them in the Great War, and the dragon riders who wore them. Nobody knows how to remake them.”
“So, if lesser rings manipulated a dragons’ magic, you could essentially control dragonfire? Just like how the Blood?—”
He gives me a look and I fall silent before I finish my sentence.Right.No need to mention the Blood Ring in such a public place. Even if the chatter is a dull roar, with music tinging, and the patrons’ eyes are everywhere but us.
“Exactly,” he whispers. “So, for example, A’nala’s a typical fire dragon. She can produce flames and sustain dangerously hot temperatures. She’d be able to bask in a volcano if she was so inclined. But if I had a lesser ring, I’d be able to do those same things using her magic as a source, rather than conjuring it upmyself from the ley lines like the one you have. One of the other fire dragons in our group used to be able to lift earthly matter. But…he’s getting quite close to retirement. I don’t think he’d be able to lift more than a stone the size of your palm.”
“Would that mean his rider, if they were wearing a lesser ring, also couldn’t lift more than a stone? Even if the rider is much younger and stronger than their dragon counterpart?”
“In theory, yes. Because a dragon’s magic isn’t infinite. Which is why the lesser rings are called that specifically?—”
A flash of silver slices through the air between Sethan and me then sinks into the wall behind us. Sethan grabs the back of my jacket and throws me to the ground, knocking the stein clear out of my hand. I land sideways on the ground as beer streams off the table and pelts me in the side. The otherwise normal buzzing of conversation turns into a tense clamoring of panicked shouts. The music cuts.
“Get down!” Sethan snaps, hunching his body over me protectively.
The boots of the dragon riders sitting on the other side of our table rush into the crowd, and the smashing of glass explodes over the chaos, showering remnants of the window over the nearest bodies. Daeja’s roar combines with several others, all differing in timbres and pitches.
I unsheathe a dagger from my side, and Sethan mirrors my movements, his eyes trained on the crowd beyond the wooden table’s legs. A familiar black, scaly muzzle reaches through a broken window. Daeja’s mouth parts with saliva dripping off her teeth in long strings as her nostrils flare. She snatches the back of a patron’s hem and tears them back off their feet, revealing a masked person.
My stomach drops. Fuck, I should have told Sethan about the masked person back in the forest.
The masked person scrambles to get loose with a scream. But it’s no use. Daeja whips them up out of view like they’re nothing more than a ragdoll.
“Tell her not to eat them,” Sethan whispers. “Some dragons can become addicted to human blood.”
“Daeja, do not eat?—”
“I know. I know,”she sighs.“Though, I’m not sure if they’re playing dead or actually are. I didn’t bite that hard.”
“Guess that takes questioning out of the picture.”
“There’s more of them, though. At least ten from what I can see.”
A new explosion of glass shatters over the sound of patrons fighting, and Sethan tugs me up and shoves me back into the corner, my shoulder blades flush with the wall.
He shifts in front of me, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet with his hand outstretched in front of me in a protective stance. “We need to sneak you out the back. A’nala and the other dragons are plucking them out through the windows, but there’s too many of them.”
“Who are they?” I glance up at the dagger in the wall above us. “Trying to kill me? Or you?”
“Rebels. Could be both. Though…if you haven’t taken off those gloves, I imagine it’s me they’re after.” He points over to the bar top where the tenders are missing. Beyond it is a wooden door. “Go through there, and it’ll take you out to the alleyway. A’nala and Daeja will meet us there. I’ll watch your back.”
“But what about?—”
“Go!” He shoves me. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Crouching, I slink against the wall to the bar top and slip behind it to find a woman lying dead in a pool of blood, a dagger sunk hilt-deep into her throat. Her blank eyes stare up at theceiling. Guilt swarms me, drying out my mouth. If the masked person followed us here, this is all my fault.
