Page 95 of A City of Flames

“Nara!” Jaron says, but I don’t look at him. All I can think about is the word blood. “We’re just mentioning what we overheard the general talking about with some of the leaders.”

Rydan curses, coming beside me as his hand touches my arm. “Ambrose, I know I said you seem deadly, but I don’t think I need a demonstration right now.”

I admit I could have dealt with my impulsiveness towards Alex in a far less... threatening way. Still, I can’t seem to let go as I urge, “Tell me what you overheard.”

Alex side glances at Jaron, then Rydan, and sighs when his gaze is on mine. “It—it was something about the Neoma tree and how it can weaken dragons.”

I look away, gathering my thoughts, hoping to remember that name, but nothing comes to mind. “What is the Neoma tree?”

“It’s the one at the center of the city,” Rydan answers, and I whip my head at him—the three of us do. “Marigold leaves?” He sighs when I frown further. “The story behind it is that it bleeds real blood. Some say it’s Solaris and Crello’s blood from the creation of this world. Others think it’s cursed and are waiting for the reincarnations of the sun and moon to bless it and make it sacred again.”

The Marigold tree I’ve grown so fond of since the moment I stepped foot into the city. It’s what captivated me the most, but I’d never learned through all my life that it had history behind it. Idris made sure to educate me well enough once he couldn’t afford for me to attend the local village schools though I’m not so sure if he even knew of the tree at the time.

“What I don’t understand is how you two nitwits heard this before me!” Rydan hisses. “And how did they figure out it was the blood of that specific tree? No one is allowed to touch it.”

“Then,” Jaron adds, running a hand through his long golden strands. “A venator must have because apparently a shifter down in the dungeons was heavily injured with it.”

A grim taste fills the back of my throat. It’s almost like something is squeezing my stomach as I remember the shifter, the vial, the blood.

The faerie blood that isn’t even faerie blood at all.

Is this why Lorcan had asked where I got it from? Wondered why I had it?

For Ivarron, it doesn’t come as a surprise to me. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s handled things illegally for years, conned people from every village and town in Emberwell. Stealing blood from a supposed magical tree and passing it off as faerie blood is one of the many things he might have done in the past.

But... considering I am the one who ended up with the vial, why didn’t Lorcan tell me?

“Can you let go of me now?” Alex’s gaze darts to my fisted hand. I nod in a daze and release him, watching him trip and scatter away with Jaron deeper into the woods.

“I won’t lie I truly thought you were going to kill—”

I spin, facing Rydan dead on. “What else do you know about that tree?”

He takes a quick step back and raises his palms. “Ambrose,” he says slowly, eyes widening the slightest. “You have that murderous look again.”

Tipping my head to the side, I glare at him.

“But I will say that I don’t know much apart from what I said just then.” He puffs a big breath. “Maybe one of these days, you’ll see a preacher standing in front of it, asking if you are the one to bless it again. I once got asked, and obviously, I said yes—”

I stop listening to Rydan and tune into the sounds of snapping trees, the air thickening like a blast of heat. I turn to where all the venators have ventured off into, and at that splintering second of sudden silence, shouts emerge followed by screams and a cry that definitely couldn’t have come from a human.

My stomach plummets.

Rydan’s wide gaze meets mine as I look over at him and then... I launch myself into a sprint. I careen through bushes, slapping away at leaves until I reach a clearing and set my eyes upon a few venators mauled on the floor with grass stained almost black under the night sky.

I shift my gaze around, wary of the dragon nearby, although I don’t want to imagine it could have done this in such a short amount of time.

Rydan’s footsteps quieten beside me, and he swears. His sword whistles as he draws it out further. “How many do you think are still alive?”

I stammer just as someone from the other side chokes and gasps out a plea. I jerk my head to look at one of the leaders—Zadkiel reaching his bloodied hand out to Rydan and me. I lunge towards him, kneeling as I assess where his injuries are coming from.

“It’s going to come back,” he rasps, and horror fills me as I focus on his knee bent the other way. I stare back at the blueness of his eyes, dimming as he repeats his words over and over.

I’m trying to cover his chest clawed at and spilling in blood just as Rydan pulls at me.

“He’s still alive,” he says, grabbing someone from under the arm and dragging them up to their feet.

It’s Alex.

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