Page 1 of Drawn in Blood
Chapter 1
Believe Nothing That You Hear
The summer breeze whipped through Ember’s fiery red braid as she felt the board under her feet glide across the air. Maia flanked her to the right, flapping her wings furiously as she dipped and twirled with the wind, and Fen was to her left, letting out a barking laugh as he sped faster. They were quickly approaching Dranganir—a large rock formation with the center carved out by the wind and waves. Ember whipped her head to the side and shot a grin at Fen.
“Meet you at the top,” she shouted over the rushing wind.
The little draic, who was now closer to Maeve’s Cat Sidhe Della’s size, let out a playful growl and barreled forward, Ember still hot on her heels. Fen raced forward and let out a howl as he shot ahead. Instead of slowing to avoid the monstrous formation, Ember carefully leaned her body forward, bracing her hands on the edge as she curled her fingers tightly over the smooth surface. She sped toward the opening, feeling the salt spray against her cheeks as she dipped closer to the water.
The sun was still rising ahead of her, bathing the sea in apricot and violet. After the school year ended, Eira and Otto had surprised her with an Airwave of her very own. From the moment she got it, she had spent every early summer morningon it, racing Maia across the waves as they licked at her shoes. The days were long and sweet, and she spent every moment that she could on the water.
She always thought she should be afraid of the ocean, that it should’ve brought back memories of losing her parents, but it didn’t. She felt them there, in the way the waves crashed against the rocks and barreled toward the shore. She could feel her mother running her hands through her hair in the wind and could hear her father’s laughter in the water that brushed her fingertips. They were there, immortalized. Njord reminded her every chance he got.
The summer solstice had already come and gone, and the start of their second year was quickly approaching. The events of the previous year felt like a distant memory now. She had finally settled into life at the Kitts’, spending cozy evenings by the fire playing card games with Maeve or reading a book while Eira patched another hole in the newly seven-year-old’s jumper. It felt like home, somewhere familiar and exciting all at once. Her days were spent with Killian and Fen, trying to talk them off the edge of whatever cliff they felt so inclined to throw themselves off that day. She rolled her eyes at their jokes, but secretly loved every moment of it.
Though, she would never let Killian hear her say that.
“Come on, Em!” Fen shouted from the top of the rock formation, waving his arms wildly in the air.
Ember grinned and waved back at him, slowing to a stop midair before looking back toward Maia, who was flying in circles beside her. “One more time?” she whispered, but she didn’t wait for a response. She shot straight up into the air, climbing higher and higher as the wind hit her cheeks and sucked the breath out of her lungs. Just when she thought she couldn’t get any closer to the clouds, she stopped. Carefully bending over, she unhooked her shoes from her board. Shespread her arms out to the side and closed her eyes, listening to the god of the wind and sea whisper in her ear. She sucked in a breath and then fell backwards, plummeting toward the water below.
She fell faster and faster, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she neared the icy water. Just before she hit the waves, she flipped her body around and felt her AirWave firmly beneath her feet. She crouched as it zipped forward, leaning her body back and slowing herself to a stop. She jumped off the board, stumbling for just a moment as her feet sank into the soft grass at the top of Dragnanir.
“That was the smoothest one yet.” Fen smiled as they sat on the grass, legs hanging over the edge of the rock.
“Do you really have such little faith in me, Fenrir?” Ember smirked as Maia purred at her side, sage wings folded against her back.
“You’re getting faster too. How long was that, like three seconds?” Fen laughed, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“You’re so invested in me making the team this year I thought you would have a timer.” Ember grinned. She was trying out for Rukr this fall, and Fen had made it a point to train her all summer long.
“You think breakfast is ready yet?” Fen asked, as he leaned back on his elbows and closed his eyes, the sun warming his tan skin. “She was up making all of your favorites when I went out to take care of Arlo—bacon and potato farls with eggs and sausage…”
Ember could’ve sworn she saw him wipe drool off his chin.
“It’s not your birthday, right?”
Ember laughed, her stomach now growling as she realized how hungry she was. To be frank, everything Eira made was her favorite. She couldn’t think of a single thing that had ever beenplaced on the table that she hadn’t devoured without a second thought.
“Honestly, Fen, do you ever think of anythingotherthan food?”
“Sure,” he shrugged, “I sleep for like ten hours a night.”
Ember shook her head with a laugh. “Well, maybe we should head home and see what the special occasion is?”
The pair kickedoff their shoes as they entered the mudroom, flinging sand all over the floor as they went. The smell of bacon, eggs, and potatoes greeted them as they walked into the kitchen and mugs of hot tea sat waiting on the table to their left.
“If the pair of you track sand into my kitchen again, you’ll be mopping the floors for the next week,” Eira scolded, but the shadow of a smile played at the corner of her mouth. Ember’s heart was fit to burst as she nestled herself in the breakfast nook. It was a morning like every other she had that summer, but she still found herself thinking about how truly grateful she was for the family that she had.
The family that chose her a year ago and had continued to choose her every day since.
Otto’s gruff laugh boomed as the front door slammed closed, and he shuffled into the kitchen, Maeve giggling beside him as she clung to his leg.
“Good morning, my loves.” Otto smiled as he kissed his wife on the head and pried the giggling seven-year-old off his calf, sticking her in her chair at the table. “What’s the occasion?”
“Can’t I just love on my family with a filling breakfast?” Eira asked, as she used her spatula to point to the mountains of food piled on the kitchen counter.
“You,” Otto smiled as he kissed his wife’s cheek, “are a terrible liar, Mrs. Kitt.”
