Dragonbound: Birthrights (Book 2)
Reminiscence

She and Cyrin sailed through the sky on the black dragon, Nurra gripping her tightly beneath her fur-lined hood. The rain pelted them like stone. Soon, she broke from the storm clouds, gliding just over them. It was strange, to be above the storm, rather than under it.

They moved over the last stretch of the sea, over Rishana, and to the plains of Kamoni where her old home was. The dragon lowered back through the storm clouds and to the ground.

Just as Ruthianna’s feet touched the grass, Kiaran leapt from her back and raced to the house. Her boots slid in the wet grass, the mud clinging to her. Cyrin shouted for her to wait, but she ignored everything around her.

It was a little house, with a kitchen, sitting room, and two bedrooms. The wood was weak, the roof flat...Seeing this house tore her insides out and she froze. Standing at the door, she was unable to move. She allowed the rain to drill into her.

Looking from the tattered, wooden door, she lowered her eyes to her boots. Cautiously, her hand pushed the door open. Estiahn’s large hands slamming through was so vivid in her mind. The sudden lightening sent her shadow stretching far across the home as the door creaked open slowly.

Stepping inside, she saw the orange eyes, the candles glinting off his black armor. She moved passed the table that had collected wax over several years to the room she hid in nearly every night.

The door sat open, untouched for nearly two years. She saw the deep wound in the wood from his sword. Sitting on her knees, she touched her fingertips to the crevice in the floor. There was always something about that hole that caught her attention, but that memory was locked away. Until the night before.

Nurra leapt to the floor, watching her quietly with sad eyes. Cyrin stood behind her, looking over his surroundings. He remained silent as he watched her. The rain pattered on the roof above them, the thunder rolling deeply.

Kiaran’s heart sank to the point where she believed it to be gone. She took a deep, shaky breath as she wiped a hand over her face. Without warning, she began sobbing. Cyrin stood beside her, his eyes darting over her, unsure of what reasonable touch could soothe her. Nurra slinked toward her, touching his nose to her hand.

Her father saw what Nathanial did to her that first night. He wanted to protect her, and nearly killed him. Standing, she paced sharply through the room. Estiahn failed at that; all he did was knock loose a few teeth and take away his ability to run--which he did rarely.

Walking across the room, she slammed her foot into a table, knocking it across the room and breaking a leg on it. Dust filled the air and she swung a fist into the window beside her, shattering the glass. Blood began to coat her knuckles, but she ignored it.

“Estiahn, you bastard,” she wailed. “You should have brought me home!” She continued to beat on the things in the room. “Forget about the laws, the unruly customs of these damned Drakelings.”

Cyrin shot to her side and grasped an arm, drawing her to his side. Her eyes met with his, tears cascading down her cheeks. Though she cried, she didn’t look sad. She was angry, her eyes digging into him intimidatingly. She ripped away from him and took a deep, shaky breath. “You cannot begin to fathom what I went through in this very room.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I believe I can imagine it,” he said softly. “Kiaran, I feel for you, I do, but cursing your own father is the last thing you should do.” Her brows creased and her teeth clenched together tightly. Gripping her shoulder, he continued, “I understand that you are upset, but no one knows where he went after that night. He quite possible was trying to take you, but was interrupted.”

Wiping her eyes, she moved away from him and escaped outside. The rain made it difficult to see. Swiping hair from her face, she left blood across her forehead which mixed with the water.

Cyrin reached her side, already holding a piece of his shirt he had ripped off. Taking her hand, he forcefully wrapped it and led her back to Ruthianna.

As they readied for flight, she quietly thanked him.

“Of course,” he nodded solemnly.

Once they finally made it back, they sat together in the library. Cyrin placed a blanket over her wet shoulders, wiping the water from her face. He sat beside her, drinking from his cup of hot tea.

“This must have been a shock to you,” he finally said.

“Seeing that house...” she shook her head, her eyes lost in the fire ahead of her. “It brought back far too many memories.”

Nurra sat in her lap beneath the blanket and trilled sadly at her. Cyrin remained silent to allow her to speak, to say what was on her heart. “I...I just wonder what happened to him that night.”

“Do not worry about him,” he replied, leaning forward in his chair. He rested his elbows on his knees as he held the cup in both hands. Water dripped from his black hair that covered his eyes as he lowered his head. “He knew how to handle himself. I have no doubt in my mind that whatever happened to him, he allowed it to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think he died that night,” he shook his head. “Nurra was in Rishana when you met him, so he was still near you. I assume he never left Estiahn, and I assume Estiahn stuck around at least a few more years.”

“Not too many,” she said glumly. “I am sure if he knew of the fights Nathanial held, he would have ended his life.”

Cyrin lowered a brow as he looked her over. She had never fully told him her story. Sighing, she explained to him what she had endured her entire life while in Kamoni.

“After Grace was born, her mother died, and that left us with Nathanial. She made most of the money, being a seamstress and all. He was a drunkard, and loved to gamble at the tournaments.”

“Tournaments?”

“Aye,” she nodded, her eyes low. “...Nobody told you?"

"It wasn't there place," he answered slowly.

"Oh...Well...Two men would face one another in battle until one of them would die. It was popular in certain areas of Kamoni, but was outlawed in most cities. We lived on the outskirts of a large city, where many people enjoyed the fights. There were fights for younger children so they might shape up to be professional fighters--but they didn’t kill until they were about fifteen years or so. Nathanial cut my hair and threw me in rags so I’d look like a boy. I was just past ten years old, I think...Once doing that, he paid a man to train me.”

Cyrin remained silent, watching Nurra as the dragon touched Kiaran’s face. “My skills increased rapidly...” If she didn’t grow in strength and speed, Nathanial had a special way of breaking her. Thinking about it left her numb.

“After a couple of years, the fact that I was a female wasn’t a problem anymore, my skills more important to them. So I fought in nearly every opening of the big tournaments. While I wasn’t fighting there, I was in the arena that Nathanial had built on his property.” She ran a hand through her wet hair. “Eventually, I was popular with the crowds, and many of them even knew my name...chanting it for an exciting fight...Nathanial got quite a bit of money off of me...”

“He is dead now, yes?” he asked.

“Aye,” she nodded.

“Good,” he spat. “What a dirty man.”

It was growing late into the night and she grew weak. Leaning back in her chair, she nearly fell asleep. She closed her eyes, listening to the fire crackle and Cyrin walk across the room. He sat his cup on the table and moved back to her side. Touching her shoulder with the tips of his fingers, he said, “You should go to bed, Kiaran.”

She forced herself to stand, Nurra leaping to the floor, and she tossed the blanket to the chair. Without a word she walked away. Pausing, she held a hand on the door frame as she looked to him. He was a good friend. One of the best she could have. Not only was he supportive, but intelligent and would never let her make a bad mistake. He watched her sternly, his lips in a fine line. Lowering her head, she slowly walked away, Nurra tailing behind.

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