Page 106 of A City of Flames

He offered to walk me until we reached the area where I’d seen the creature and mentioned he’d stand watch in case it did appear, but... Gus’s words over Darius kept echoing the entire time. And the longer I’d spent with the shifters, the stranger I felt.

There were kids, families, and they welcomed me despite who I am.

Gazing at Darius to my side, I put the carving away and study him. The shadow covering his jaw, a breeze in his hair, the short strands curling at the neck. Trust clouds my mind; he trusts me. He’d taken me to the den, a human who is supposed to become a venator.

“Staring for so long can make someone very uncomfortable, Goldie.” The corner of his lip lifts into a smile as he glances sideways at me.

I scoff, staring at the clearing up ahead. The same clearing where that creature had attacked us. “I’m sure it boosts your ego more like,” I mutter, and he chuckles without a word.

Slowing down my steps, I gaze at the darkened grass, no blood, no bodies like that night. Darius stops a few meters away from me and turns as I look at the broken branch on the other side. My hand traces my abdomen, already healed. No one would guess I’d suffered an injury or a significant loss of blood.

“I think I have my first question,” I say, but I don’t, not really. I have too many, some that make no sense, others that I’m not sure how to phrase.

“Ask away, Goldie.”

I look at him, and at the faint smile on his lips as glowing fireflies drift among us. Blues, greens, all colors combine that if it weren’t for the sudden question dawning on me as I watch them, I’d love to catch some. “Why is it that you can’t fly?”

A beat of silence, and then Darius sighs, nodding at the ground. “Do you want the long version or the short?”

“Surprise me.” I raise my hand in the air and wait for a firefly to land on my index finger. Its wings buzz vibrantly, and I can hear Darius release a short chuckle.

“When I was five years old,” he says, and when I glance at him, he’s pensive. “My powers were uncontrollable. Barely even knew I held one power, let alone three.” He chuckles. “I had nowhere to go, so I went around the streets looking for food—for shelter when venators saw me accidentally wield fire.”

My hand falls to the side, and numbness takes over it, already imagining the worst at the mention of venators.

“I remember them chasing me, mortals blocking pathways so I wouldn’t get through.” He’s avoiding my gaze like he’s reliving every detail. “I’d never once shifted before then, but at that moment, I did, only for one venator to catch my wing and sever the top part. I still managed to escape but... haven’t been able to fly since.”

I swallow, covering my wince. He was five, and they were ruthless enough to sever part of his wing. If he hadn’t escaped, they’d likely have slaughtered him in front of everyone. And people would cheer because his kind is what we’ve grown to loathe.

“What about your parents?” My voice is a mere whisper; I’m surprised he hears me as he lifts his eyes and narrows them. A speck of humor glistens in them though I know it’s a front. I can tell because Iker had reacted the same way whenever someone mentioned mother or father to him.

“That counts as your second question Goldie.” He saunters over, tilting his head as he looks at my shoulder and extends his hand before retracting it with a firefly on his finger.

I exhale a chuckle. “It’s a good thing I have three left.”

The firefly flies off his hand, and he glances up at the sky, heaving a sigh. “You just had to pick the hard ones.”

“You don’t have to answer it, I just thought—”

“I never met my father,” he says, and my mouth is left half-open. He rubs at his forehead. “My mother only told me he left when I was born and failed to ever utter his name. Whether she despised him or still loved him, I couldn’t tell, and I never was able to find out because she died protecting me.”

Something cold settles in my stomach at his admission.

“And after my wing was torn, I was taken in by someone else who happened to be a mortal obsessed with dragons, so there was that.” He waves his hand like it’s nothing, but I think of what Gus told me. Darius’s drunken nights, his distrust with everyone else, how he’s dealt with too much.

I do the unexpected.

I wrap my arms around his neck.

He’s deadly still, and the side of my face rests against his built chest. Rosewood and something familiar fill my lungs as I breathe it in. His hand then spans across the back fabric of my shirt, hesitant at first before his other arm comes around me, as if he is shielding me from any danger in the world.

“Your mother died a hero,” I whisper and slowly pull away. His eyes stay glued to mine for minutes like he’s not sure what to make of our embrace or what I said. Noting I must have made things awkward; I clear my throat and add a little pointedly, “I know I didn’t say it earlier, but I am grateful that you saved me. And I’m not one to embrace someone so easily, especially a dragon, so consider this a one-off.”

His head rears back in mock surprise. “Is that—” His brows furrow, and he points at me, almost smiling. “Is that you being nice to me, Goldie?” He places a hand on his chest. “I’m touched.”

My brows lift in complete disapproval. “And now I’m reminded why it is that you anger me so much.”

He’s back to laughing brightly, the mischievous glint in everything he says or does. I huff a breath and glance at all the fireflies that disappear from the clearing. “I can’t believe I’ve been out for this long and with a shifter too.”

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