Dragonbound: Birthrights (Book 2)
War is in the Stratagem

Panting, he ushered his men through the brush. The rain fell and it was utterly dark. His ribs were busted and bruised, keeping an arm around them for support. His dark hair was plastered to his face as he pushed them along.

“Captain, Tarlin and Mereise fell,” Bernand said.

Chase grit his teeth, but nodded once, curtly. Two more of his men lost. “Go,” he finally said.

Only three of them plus himself had escaped Brinn’s capitol city. And they rushed as quickly as they could through the wilderness. They had to return to Vintar with the news. And hopefully to find that Princess Kiaran had escaped.

“Can you believe it?” Arlin hissed. He was a large man--larger than most. But rarely did he use that to his advantage. He was a good-hearted man. Earned his position and property. Never bullied his way anywhere. “Grindall wanted to kill her! And for what--to show off his power for some leader?”

“Hush, Arlin,” Bernand bit.

“We need to hurry back,” Fletcher said.

He looked to the Captain; everyone looked to the Captain. He watched them through the dark rain and finally nodded in agreement. He could hardly keep along with their conversation. His head was spinning, his body growing heavy. The wound in his upper arm and across his thigh were deep. The bleeding was relentless.

Eventually, the rain let up and they reached a road. “We can’t take this,” Fletcher shook his head. Again, he said, “We can’t take the road.”

“Aye, Fletch, we heard you,” Arlin grumbled.

Chase inhaled deeply, wishing he had his dragon. Islali was an excellent beast. One just large enough for him to ride comfortably. The dragon was well built, but had no wings. Her tail was strong, her jaw set like a lion’s. If he had her, they’d be set. He’d be home in no time.

His pace was slowing, Fletcher noticing. The man slowed with him, asking, “You alright, Captain?”

“Yeah,” he grimaced. “Just keep going.”

“Men, I think he’s wounded.”

“No, just--”

“Chase, stop your complaining,” Arlin waved him down. “Let’s see these wounds of yours. We can’t be making you walk miles with a solid injury. It’ll kill you.”

They stopped him and checked his gashes. With quick work, Bernand got the wounds wrapped and Arlin helped him rush along the forest floor. His men were the best. And these were the best of the best. He was lucky they had survived.

“What do we tell the Queen if Princess Kiaran didn’t make it home?” Bernand asked lowly.

“Don’t worry about that,” Chance said. It wasn’t their place to worry, but his. The others were just working under his order.

“I’ll bet she makes it back before we do,” Arlin said.

Hopefully, he was right.

A few nights had passed, and Kiaran was able to finally breach Brinn, reentering Avestitia. However, they were still rather uncertain where exactly they were. There was no city within miles that they could see from their position. They could see the mountain range of jagged rock in the distance, and though it was unseen, Vintar sat on the other side of that range.

Kiaran stood in a shallow creak, the cold water running over her toes. One hand rested on a low hanging branch, her other unbuckling her cloak and belt, tossing them to dry land. The fabrics that draped across her hips were pulled off and tossed aside as well. She stood in the water wearing only her shirt and tights.

Leaning over, she scooped up some water and tried to clean the dirt, blood, and leaves from her hair and skin. She gently pulled the gold chains and pins from her hair and placed them on her clothes on the shore. She crouched, hovering just above the water as it slowly flowed away from her. Her eyes were stuck on her reflection as it wavered.

Closing her eyes, she focused on the coolness of the wet rocks against the bottom of her feet. Her fingers touched the surface of the water as it rippled downstream. Her breathing was steady, calm.

Feeling the water was much like how Kriettor’s thoughts traveled without leaving his cave. Her heart slowed and she became nearly a vessel, her mind traveling with the creak.

She could feel it weave through broken branches, large and small rocks, and tree roots as they jetted through the bank. Fish rushed away from her presence, their beady eyes seeming to stare at her.

That was all she could feel.

Standing up straight, she opened her eyes once more, looking about her. It was unbelievably refreshing. Instantly, a brilliant idea shot to her and she darted out of the water, leaving her things behind.

How had she not thought of this earlier? She nearly laughed at her ineptitude.

Her feet carried her quickly, running straight past Cyrin as he shook leaves from his coat. He watched her quizzically without asking a word. She came to the tallest, oldest tree around them. It was strong, massive, and healthy. Touching a hand to the trunk, she scrutinized the branches that hung high above her.

“What are you doing?” he finally asked.

“I have an idea,” she answered.

He waited but she never elaborated. “What would that be?” he asked slowly.

She looked over her shoulder at him and said, “Help me get to that branch.” Sighing, he tossed his coat on the tree beside him and walked to her. He cupped his hands together and she placed her foot in his hand. He grimaced as the wet leaves and dirt which collected on her foot smeared in his hands. She chuckled and he rolled his eyes.

With a great thrust, he hoisted her up and she snatched the branch. It seemed so easy as she pulled herself up with just the strength of her arms. It was unusual to find someone who could do that without a grunt or pant, let alone a woman. Cyrin grinned at her. She was unusual.

She held her arms out to balance as she slowly stood on the branch. The bark was rough on her feet, but it felt nice to run without boots. One hand was placed on the trunk behind her, the other clutching the thin branch by her head. She stood, her shoulders broad and her chest expanding as she inhaled deeply.

Closing her eyes, she tied into the tree with her subconscious. She could feel birds fluffing their feathers in their nests and squirrels bustling about noisily. The tree’s roots bled deeply into the earth, allowing her to feel the coolness of the soil, the relaxing darkness drawing her attention.

The branches, though, spread throughout the sky like massive, outreached arms with fingers touching nearly all senses. The wind rushed by, carrying scents and sounds. The blue sky was unfolded above her and she could see the birds flying without any worries.

The trees surrounding the oak she stood in had their branches entangled in her tree’s. This allowed her to travel through those trees as well. She rushed through each tree until her subconscious reached the white-feathered dragons which were miles away.

They leapt uneasily, sensing her presence. They ruffled their wings and looked about uncomfortably. They cawed, their black eyes looking out in desperation to find her. Finally, one heard her and dashed off, the rest of them darting away to hide.

Kiaran swayed on the branch, her hands and feet becoming numb. Her face grew pale and her body looked as though it was empty. Cyrin was still standing just beneath, watching. She collapsed and dropped from the tree. With a yelp, he caught her, dropping to his knees with her. Her feet and legs slammed into the ground, her body limp in his arms.

“Kiaran,” he said anxiously. “Kiaran,” he barked again. Lying her flat on her back, he wiped the damp hair from her face and placed her arms beside her body. “You must wake up now, Kiaran.”

It felt like forever as she remained motionless. The only thing moving was her chest as she breathed. Her eyelids flickered while her mind raced. She was dreaming...She did not simply pass out. His heart raced as he sat on his knees, waiting for her to wake. What happened?

The white-feathered dragon flew through the air with amazing speed and urgency. It’s wings batted hard and then spread out wide as it glided over the mountains toward Vintar. It let out a loud cry as it dropped toward the city.

Ruthianna slept lazily in the sun on a balcony. The sound of the white-feathered dragon reached her and she rolled off of her back and stood. Her purple eyes looked to the sky, waiting for a second call. Once it came, she shot into the air. She saw the little, bird-like dragon and it turned back the way it came. Ruthianna followed closely, their speed unreal.

Cyrin became impatient with her and he stood, pacing. Finally, he rushed to her and snatched her up in his arms. He darted through the woods, desperate for help. Something was wrong with her, and he was determined to fix her.

He rushed over roots and rocks and weaved between closely grown trees. The amount of distance he covered was rather poor in the grueling hour he had ran. His lungs filled with fire and his skin was covered in sweat. Finally, he came to a stop and lowered her to the ground, sitting beside her. He leaned her on a wall of rock and dirt, his lungs aching for air. No matter how much he breathed in, it was not enough.

He perked up as the familiar feeling of his dragon touched his heart. He looked to the sky as he stood. Narrowing his eyes, he found her to be following a little dragon straight to him. She slammed to the ground, the white-feathered dragon perching in a tree nearby. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Ruthianna,” he gasped. He nearly darted for her, but turned back to Kiaran, lifting her in his arms once more. He carried her toward the dragon, saying, “She isn’t waking, I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

A sense of amusement radiated from the beautiful dragon as her eyes smiled at him. “What?” he asked as he stopped.

Kiaran began to stir, her muscles flexing in his grip. Her brows drew down and her lips formed a slight grimace. Her head was pounding and her legs aching increasingly. Her entire body, from the scalp of her head to the bottom of her feet felt as though she had been running for years without end. Opening an eye, she saw Cyrin holding her to his chest, talking to Ruthianna. Her ears were numb, unable to hear him at first.

His eyes shot to her and she grinned, saying, “It worked.”

“What are you talking about?” he howled. “I was worried sick and that is all you have to say?”

Her eyes burrowed into his. The scars over her eye were vivid against the setting sun. “You can sit me down now,” she finally said.

He growled as he put her on her feet. She rubbed a hand over her head, hoping to soothe it. The white-feathered dragon trilled at her, tilting its head slightly. Its black eyes looked her over and it hopped toward her on its branch.

Kiaran moved to the dragon, holding a hand toward it. Its black beak shined brilliantly as it watched her cautiously Smiling, her eyes stayed on the dragon as she said, “I was able to attach myself to the trees which led me to this little dragon. I latched onto her and sent her to Ruthianna.”

He was flabbergasted to say the least. He stared at her without a word. Her fingers touched the dragon’s beak and it closed its stunning eyes. Bonding with the dragon, she learned its name. Trinna...Curiosity. It fit her well. She could still feel Cyrin’s eyes burrowing into her so she looked over her shoulder at him. “What?” she finally hissed.

Shaking his head, his brows lowered. “We should head back to Vintar.”

“I agree,” she said as she looked back to Trinna. He tossed a hand up impatiently as she continued to pet the dragon. It stretched its long neck to her and touched its beak to her nose. She smiled and seemed to wordlessly thank it.

Ruthainna watched with pleasure. Cyrin could feel it and he turned to the great dragon. Her scales shimmered a deep black with hues of purple in the lowering sunlight. Flicking her wings, she looked to her human.

Kiaran was a strange and admirable woman. He felt it from Ruthianna and he felt it within his own heart as well. She was good, but she was going to be much more.

Ritiann stood in the courtyard, watching the sky fill with white, thin clouds. It was peaceful, late in the evening, and yet her heart was filled with discomfort. Her attachment to her daughter proved to be accurate. She new she could find her in the battle at the shoreline. And sure enough, that first day, she found her daughter.

Knowing how well she knew Kiaran, she knew something wasn’t right. Perhaps something happened in Brinn. She would never forgive herself for that. It was originally her idea to send them with such a small amount of troops. But Brinn had never been a problem before.

Elsibellem watched her queen as her eyes grew distant. “My lady?” she asked lowly. Ritiann slowly turned to her and she asked, “Are you well?”

“I am unsure,” she replied honestly.

“Can I do something for you?”

Ritiann smiled, her eyes tired. Rathen stood beside his human, his deep blue eyes watching her calmly. Suddenly, she could feel a sense of alarm in him as he turned to the sky. He raised his wings into the air, shaking them. He was ready to dart into the air after it.

Ritiann turned around briskly to find Ruthianna slamming to the ground in duress. Sitting on her back were Cyrin and Kiaran, both covered in blood-stained clothes and looking weak and dirty.

“My child,” she gasped as she rushed to them. Elsibellem turned, shouting for some assistance from the nearby guards. “What happened to you?”

“It was Grindall,” Cyrin answered. He held Kiaran’s upper arm as she slid herself off the dragon, still weak from traveling with Trinna. She was still nearly naked, wearing only her shirt and pants.

“Grindall?” Ritiann asked lowly. “How--what happened?”

Kiaran held a hand to her spinning head as she sidestepped. Cautiously, she walked to the wide, stone stairs that led up to the castle. Her stride was quick and strong, hiding the weakness inside her body.

Her mother rushed after her, asking, “Kiaran, are you well? Speak to me, child.”

Her eyes shot to her, not willing to speak. It was discomforting that after a year of peace she was targeted--yet again--by a crazed king. All she wanted at that point was a hot bath, fresh food, and a good night’s sleep. “Perhaps I could eat before you attack me with questions,” she snapped.

“I do not appreciate your attitude,” she lowered a brow. “I understand you are hungry and tired, but I am worried.” It became silent between them. Finally, they simply moved to the kitchen.

Once in the massive kitchen, Kiaran and Cyrin sat at a small table, eating some food made freshly for them by a cook. Ritiann sat with them, her face reflecting her concern and confusion. They proceeded to explain about the king’s strange change in character and the attack.

Ritiann stood, her dress dusting the floor as she walked around the table. Her light fingers touched the edge of the table as she pondered. Her long hair was rolled around a fan at the back of her head, a braid hanging from it. Her blue eyes slowly moved to them as she said, “It does not surprise me.”

“What do you mean?” Kiaran asked.

“Trindal, before it split into Trindal-VinCar, was always an enemy of ours,” she began slowly. “Trades are being broken between Trindal and our merchants. Brinn has turned against us...I would not be surprised if she somehow was able to sway him and break our influence over her sister country. This makes perfect sense,” she scoffed at herself, upset for not noticing earlier. “That country is heavy with magic. Always has been. Their only threat lies with Avestitia, for our dragons are nearly untouched by most magic. A thirty year old war, Kiaran. I would not be surprised if they plan to attack through others this time. Murdock was mad and attacked us for what seemed like no reason. Grindall? He has now done the same.”

Kiaran’s heart sank. Maybe she did have some tie between Brinn and Rishana. It seemed the only connection between them. There was no coincidence that they had nearly identical thrones.

“Do you believe she persuaded the kings? Could she have cursed them?” Kiaran asked.

“Perhaps,” she lifted a brow. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” she hummed. “She is very good at charming her way, convincing others to do her bidding. I wouldn’t be surprised if she used a little magic to enhance her...tongue. I suppose...” she shrugged a shoulder. “It isn’t impossible.”

She stood at the corner of the table, her back to them as her hand still touched the cool wood. She inhaled, her shoulders lifting with it. Rathen watched her, his eyes flickering to Kiaran for a moment. “The remaining question is...” She paused, looking to Kiaran, “What will you do next? Attack Brinn?”

“Perhaps I should look into what we are dealing with first,” she replied.

“Wise,” the corner of Ritiann’s lips curled a bit.

As things calmed down between the three of them, Kiaran grew tired and sore. Taking a deep, stabling breath, she stood, her half-closed eyes looking to her mother. “I am going to my bed. I need some rest.”

“Rest well, my daughter,” she replied.

Once Kiaran was out of sight, Ritiann stole her seat beside Cyrin. It seemed as though she was preparing herself to speak to him. He lowered a brow and finally said, “What is on your mind, Ritiann?”

“How were your travels?” she finally asked, “Outside of Grindall’s attack.”

He paused, confused by the question. He opened his mouth to reply, but all that slowly drew out was, “Fine...”

“Simply fine?” she asked. With each word she spoke, she confused him even further. Standing, she nodded her head. She looked to him and continued, “Was there anything else? How did you and Kiaran get along?”

“Well,” he shook his head, his eyes growing hard. “Did you send us to become closer?”

“It was a lost attempt,” she sighed. “What about you, Cyrin?”

His eyes narrowed slightly and he stood with her. “She is like a sister, Ritiann. I am not going to impose on her.”

“Impose?” she grunted in annoyance. “She needs to marry, it is a responsibility all kings and queens must face.”

“I don’t believe she’s interested,” he said. “I am fairly certain she’s more interested in that Holloway brother.”

“Their relationship is gone, Cyrin,” she said softly, her eyes showing a ginger kindness. “It is time for them to move on.” He continued to glare silently and her expression softened. “You like her...no?”

He shook his head, his voice stern, “No.”

She sighed quietly, saying, “I apologize...But she does need to find a husband soon...”

He knew she was right, but thought it was intrusive. Never before, had he considered marrying her or being any closer than he already was with her. He grew uncomfortable under Ritiann’s gaze.

Standing straight, squaring off his shoulders, he replied, “If that is all, Your Highness, I’ll be off to my chambers,” he said.

He had no urge to marry anyone, and he had never rightfully fallen in love either. Kiaran was a good woman, and needed a husband, so if the idea was her’s, he might agree with her.

“That’ll be all, Cyrin,” she said lowly.

After a hot bath, Kiaran rested in her bed, propped against a pile of pillows. It had been a couple days since she had returned home, and was finally somewhat relaxed.

There was a weak feeling in her stomach when she thought of how she had basically abandoned her guards. There were no signs of them between Vintar and Brinn, which left her to feel that perhaps they were dead.

Maybe sending Ruthianna out one more time couldn't hurt...

She turned her attention back to the book in her hands, nearly finished reading it. It was full of tales and amazing lores. It was all somehow linked to magic and the influence it had over both Trindal-VinCar.

It seemed, though, that the only thing magic was good for was ending in tragedy or gaining a sinful reward. There was no good to it...So she pondered on Cyrin’s knuckles. It was magic, and yet it was used to heal him. Slowly, she sat the book on her chest.

Cyrin’s bloody hand and metal knuckles were strange. His history was not so far from hers, killing many who may not have deserved it. Yet, they were able to overcome their blood-lusts to be the people they had become.

Nurra was curled up on her ankles, her legs stretched out ahead of her beneath the blankets. His head rested over his tail, his orange gaze on her. She smiled at him.

Slowly, she breathed in, closing her eyes. The scent of the embers from her mantle filled her lungs. The door beside her bed was opened, allowing the cold wind to bypass her balcony and straight through her. Again, she began reading.

Her eyes stopped following the words as her heart slowed. She read about people being able to bond with animals with a force of magic. They could temporarily bond with a simple-minded animal, such as a horse or rat, and convince it to do their tasks.

A smarter animal, however, had to accept the strange mind into it and share the body...much like how she did with Trinna. When doing so, the animal’s eyes match in color with the human controlling it.

Everything slowed to a halt. Her gaze darted to Nurra. That orange hue. The only other place she had seen it was in Rishana. The wolves. Smiling, she shook her head. “Nurra,” she said, “Your eyes...my father’s eyes...What if he had bonded with those wolves?”

She found it to be a stretch, but hopeful nonetheless. “What if Cyrin was right? What if my father really is still alive?”

That evening, she finally agreed to join Ritiann at a small, warm ball. There were several guests, leaders of their larger cities. It would be best to get ahead of the rumors.

They spent their time eating and chatting, some people dancing to music. But when Ritiann explained to them the threat posed by Grindall, everything came to a stop.

Not a sound was made.

Rathen watched the crowd, his icy eyes taking in each visitor. Ritiann slowly waved her fan, cooling her face slightly. She had an excellent gown on, but seemed to be a bit heavy.

“Just keep guard. Be prepared for war,” she finally ended.

Kiaran kept to herself. To her luck, she was unapproachable. It almost put a smile on her lips as she sipped from her goblet. The only light to reach her corner flickered with a dim, golden hue. She folded her arms across her chest, one hand exposed to hold her drink.

Her ears perked to Cyrin as he moved to her side. Like Kiaran, he wore overly nice clothes, but his were all black with silver accents. Kiaran’s dress was blood red, but the gems in her hair were in all colors.

“Your Highness, Captain Chase has returned,” he said very quietly.

“What--” She instantly sat the goblet on the table at her side and followed him. The guests followed her with their eyes, but didn’t dare to say anything to her.

Ritiann eyed them closely, moving to follow after them, but paused. She scanned the room for her handmaiden, then gestured her over. Elsibellem wore a beautifully crafted dress. Simple enough to be recognized as a maid, but nice enough to be known as the Queen’s maid.

“Your Majesty,” she curtsied. “May I get you some wine?”

“No. Follow my daughter and Lord Cyrin. See what is going on,” she said quietly.

“Of course,” she nodded and rushed away.

“Oh, by the gods,” some one hissed, followed by a heavy thump.

Kiaran and Cyrin rounded the corner, exiting the castle. The moon lit up the courtyard, Chase and a couple of his men just reaching the top of the stairs.

They were weak, wounded, and filthy, the captain nearly lying across the stone before her. Kiaran and Cyrin rushed to help him stand.

“Thank god, you’ve made it back,” Chase said. “We were afraid we abandoned you.”

“I thought the same of you,” she replied.

Elsibellem skittered to a stop at the open doors, staring in shock. Cyrin spoke without facing her,“Elsi, get--”

“R-right,” she cut him short. “I’ll get her.”

As they moved inside, Kiaran asked, “What happened? Do you know anything?”

“Not much,” Chase answered in a pant. “We overheard something about Grindall.” He grimaced, his feet dragging as he nearly fell to his knees again. She and Cyrin pulled him back up, his weight distributed between the two of them.

“He had to do something to prove himself,” one of his men answered. He was a bit thinner than the others, but was tall. His eyes were a deep gray, his hair long and black.

“What do you mean?” Kiaran asked.

“Prove himself--I don’t know. To the queen of someplace,” Chase answered. “I suppose he thought he’d prove his strength by killing you.”

“How stupid,” she muttered.

They cut through the heated room where dragons worked away. In the wall was a door, though it was a normal size, it appeared so tiny compared to the rest of the room.

As they reached it, it swung open to Elsibellem and a familiar, white-haired woman. She was the one who took her to her friends after their battle. She was a very valued woman of apothecary.

“Your Highness,” she greeted. “Come, let’s get you patched up, Captain.”

Cyrin and Kiaran sat together across the large infirmary. Chase was asleep, as were his men. Neither of them spoke for a long string of minutes. They simply watched Elsibellem and the woman tend to the men.

“We have to do something,” he said softly. Kiaran nodded. “What do you plan to do?” She shrugged in response. “Kiaran--”

“Stop,” she bit. After a moment, she said, “I don’t know yet.”

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