A Fifth Daughter [Book 1: The Dragon Rider]

Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.

Okay, you can do this. Just one foot in front of other and you’ll be there in no time. Ignore everyone around you, but remember to smile – just like Mom said. I force a smile and can feel its fakeness. I shake my head sadly, this is the worst.

But it doesn’t matter how much advice I give myself, my heart is beating way too fast; to the point I’m afraid it might pound from my chest and hop away, and I’m shaking from head to toe like a dying leaf trying to hang onto its stem for dear life.

Gah… I’m never getting married. This is the worst. Besides, I already have to walk down one aisle, why should I ever have to do it again?

“Scared?” Alice asks, almost sneering. Her red hair looks a lot like mine; put up in an intricate bun, while her blue eyes show a distant knowledge. The pink dress looks right on her, but she doesn’t seem to be enjoying it.

“No, I’m…” I trail off, not sure if I should provoke her to give one of her wicked grins.

“Nervous.” She says, that sneer still dulling her feminine voice.

I nod slowly, but a few curls still fall from the bun weighing down my head. I don’t fix them; I’d probably only make it worse.

She chuckles dryly and faces the doors. “Well, there isn’t any reason to be, just ignore everyone and remember to smile.”

Mom must have given her the same advice as she gave me. But Alice will blend in with the other bridesmaids, she’ll look like she belongs. I’m a shadow in a world of pure light. I wish I could be happy right now; at least for Carma, but all I feel like doing is curling into a small little ball and hoping Mom forgets about me.

“I could walk down the aisle with you.” Cai’s voice is laced in humor as he easily enters my head.

“That’d have been a sight.”

“Yes, and then you’d be laughing at everyone’s shocked faces instead of staring straight ahead and ignoring them.”

“Can you even fit into the throne room?”

“Well, I’d probably put a big hole in the wall, but after that I’d fit.”

“So, you’re fat.”

“Oh, go dig your grave, Green.”

“No, you’d dig it for me and then you’d help bury me, and then you’d regret the whole thing and save me. You’re predictable.”

“I’ll have you know that I am not lazy, fat, predictable, or any other insulting term you can think of.”

“No, you’re loving, kind, and my best friend.”

“Well, okay, I won’t bury you now. I also won’t tell Eaton, Mandy, or Filly that I’m first before them.”

“I’m pretty sure all of their dragons are before me too, so we’re good.”

Cai chuckles, the sound rolling through me and calming my frayed nerves. “Get ready, Smoke. And remember, I’ll be with you all the way down.”

“Thanks.”

“We’re ready.” Tempest says somewhere behind me.

I glance back and stare as Carma comes into the foyer. She looks absolutely magnificent in Mom’s remodeled wedding gown. Where I’m all black, she’s my polar opposite and is a pearly white. The dress hugs her body with a high neck and flowing train. Gems spiral around in intricate designs and shine off the torches and glistening sunlight.

“Whoa,” I say. And even though I’m suddenly smiling and finally feeling happy for her, my brain has yet to catch up with my emotions and still rebels at the thought of that dread aisle waiting to swallow me whole.

“For the love of Flame, stop fretting,” Cai berates, “You’ve got me jumping at every little noise.”

I cringe inwardly, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just calm down, okay? It’s not like you’re about to actually die.”

“You’re right, but…”

“No, ‘buts.’ I hate ‘buts.’ Just walk down that darn aisle, I promise you’ll be fine.”

The piano is cued and the doors open.

Carter is the first person I see, and I just focus on him and his familiar smile as I force my legs to take that first step, and then the second, and so on.

Cai begins humming, and I nearly trip.

“Hey!”

He cringes. “Sorry, but you’re walking really, really slowly. I didn’t realize half a wedding is everyone just walking down the aisle.”

I have to stop myself from chuckling and keep myself walking forward. “It is an insanely long aisle.”

“Well, have you noticed the amount of people in the room?” My breath hitches. “Okay! Never mind. There’s no one in the room. It’s just you, me, and… well, no one.”

I know he’s lying. I know how long that guest list is. But he seems to have a way of convincing my panicking brain that everything is fine and that we’re completely alone.

The aisle doesn’t end fast enough and, remembering the strict rules from Mom, I take my place next to the grey and pink fake-flower arrangement on the bottom step.

Now I can relax and take in my surroundings.

Starting with the altar in front of the pastor and the archway behind him. Both are made of some exotic wood, both have identical intricate designs, and they’re covered with light pink drapes. In fact everything is light pink with that underlying shiny dark grey and a fleeting glance of white. It’s all seems so pure. The hanging chandelier has white flickering candles, every pew has white-almost-pink flowers stringed to the sides; the tall windows are covered in white tulle.

And then there’s me. Standing out like the worst sore thumb there ever was. I’m a black sheep among all of these spotless, white lambs.

Behind me, Tempest has walked down the aisle with Alive behind her, and then a few girls I remember meeting but can’t remember the names of. They all take their places directly behind me, all smiling, all wearing pink, all looking like they belong here. I feel dread – not jealousy – uncurl in my gut. I really don’t want to be here.

“Smoke, concentrate. You’re glaring at your mom.”

Yeah, I guess I am. It’s like my brain and eyes are on different levels and my eyes know where to place the blame of what my gut dislikes. And my mom happens to be the one in blame.

Averting my gaze and widening my smile to the point my cheeks hurt, I’m just in time for the piano to change songs and for everyone to stand. And then there’s Carma, in all her gloriously white beauty, walking down the aisle with a true smile peeling her red lips.

Suddenly my smile is genuine. Somewhere between glaring at Mom and Carma entering the room, a trigger is switched and I’m happy that I’m standing up here. I’m happy that this could someday happen to me. And I’m so Fire-blasted happy that my big sister is getting married.

The ballroom is a large polished floor with columns lining every fifteen or so feet and a high arching ceiling. The interior is set up a lot like the Break Hall at school; with the two huge oak trees in the middle of the room, rising high to the ceiling and still holding their summer leaves. But instead of dozens of long tables and benches, the polished floor only has a few round tables for sitting while others are covered in drinks and dishes of delicious smelling food.

Much like the sanctuary, the ballroom has been draped in white tulle, pink flowers, and shiny dark grey table runners. There’s a stage for the musicians at the far end and the music echoes off the curved ceiling and bounces around the room as if the players are walking right behind you. A long table covered in all three colors is set between two columns and there sits the wedding party and family. Everyone who played some small part in putting the wedding together is seated at that table, all except the bride and groom and of course; me.

“Smoke,” Filly taps my shoulder and I jolt, spinning around and almost smack her.

“Uh – sorry.” I apologize, curling my hand away and dropping it to my side. “I’m a little jumpy.”

Cai scoffs. “A little?”

Filly just smiles. “It’s okay. I was coming to tell you bye, I’m leaving earlier than expected, and your mother told me to tell you it’s time for you to be at the table.”

I cringe. “Do I have to?”

She smiles, a true smile – one that has been showing up a lot more frequently. “Only if you want to stay on your Mom’s good side.”

“Right,” I hug her and finally remember that she’s going home for the remainder of Fall Break. “I’ll see you Tuesday morning.”

She hugs back. “Yeah.”

I smile goodbye and nearly trip over my stupid heels in an attempt to quickly – and discretely –walk to the long table. My seat next to Carma is blatantly empty. Sitting on my right is Tempest, and she tries to smile reassuringly, but Mom’s obvious glare takes away the encouragement I almost feel from Tempest.

“What have I done wrong now?” I ask her as soon as I’m seated.

“Well, you have this strange tendency to be late to things, or you never show up.” Tempest pops a grape into her mouth from the assortment of platers in front of her. It looks like we’re eating the spoils of war.

“That was one time.” I mutter, only slightly sure of my statement. “When have I been late to anything else?”

It doesn’t take long for Tempest to find a list of things that have happened in my life that I’ve been late for or never shown up to. By the end Tempest is fighting a strong smile and I’m almost laughing. Somewhere along the way, Carma joined in and Alice – on Tempest’s right – every now and then happily gave her recollection of my failure to comply.

“Okay,” I say, “you can stop, I get it.”

We’re all laughing. Four sisters that have never been the greatest of friends, the greatest of sisters, are all huddled together at a wedding for one sister, teasing another sister about her fetish for never arriving at places.

Carma is the first to sober up, and she gazes at us lovingly.

“I wish Genny Grace was here,” she says forlornly.

Tempest nods. “Yeah, I miss her too.”

I, on the other hand, do not. Alice and Genny Grace have never been my favorite siblings. We’ve never gotten along and have always had different opinions on just about everything there is to have an opinion of.

The clinking of silverware on glass silences the hall. We all look up, trying to spot who’s giving the announcement. But it’s no one at the table, and slowly the crowds in front of us parts the waters to shine a spot-light on the glass-clinker.

It’s a tall man. He stands a good head over many of the people closest to him, and the nice, pressed black suit and blood, red tie only heighten his obvious height. I don’t recognize his green eyes, his red hair, or his sharp features. He must be someone Carter knows. Although, it seems strange that someone not at the table would be giving an announcement. Of course, what do I know? This is the first wedding I can remember ever attending.

Then again maybe I was just late, or never arrived.

My humorous thoughts die quickly though when I spot the knife piercing the glass. It’s a crude hunting dagger, used for gutting a buck after a clean kill. It’s a knife that you don’t bring to a wedding, and that the kitchen wouldn’t have.

“Smoke…” Cai’s warning tone doesn’t go unnoticed, I’m just too focused to acknowledge him – even as he continues to yell in my head.

Someone begins choking down the table. It’s the type of choking that you make after drinking and laughing at the same time and the liquid goes down the wrong pipe (or perhaps out your nose), and it’s coming from Mom. She splutters and coughs until she’s red and one of the bridesmaids begins banging on her back with a flat palm.

“Damitri?” Mom finally spews out; her eyes wide; fear evident in them, but also something akin to admiration.

“Ah… older sister.” The man finally speaks. His voice is rough, almost hoarse. “I’m surprised I didn’t get an invitation. I mean, you’ve probably known I was alive for a while. You are still keeping tabs on me, correct?” He sounds so confidant, so knowing, so fearless as he stares down the only woman that has ever scared me – but that probably isn’t saying a lot. Most mothers scare their children in some form or fashion.

The man twirls the knife across his knuckles, showing how daring he is. He downs the remains of his drink and drops the glass. It shatters everywhere and someone screams; the only sound in the room aside from our collective breaths – then he’s sauntering forward; directing himself toward the long table.

It’s when he’s only a few feet away from the table that I see the scars. Ugly and rugged, they divide his face like mountains on a map. They harden, but define his features; his strong jaw, crooked nose (probably broken multiple times), and one scar dashes over his left brow, not harming the eye, but cutting deep into his skin, leaving a ravine in his face.

“I see our lovely mother didn’t show up.” The man continues. Sadly the pieces are starting to fit into place and this man is slowly gaining a new title. “Did you warn her, like you tried so valiantly when we were younger? Did she finally heed your warning?”

I don’t know if he would have continued going, but he stops at soon as Mom stands, her chair flying into the wall behind us; the window quivers with the force of the chair hitting the frame.

“Insult the woman that kept you alive for years, Damitri, will not get you anywhere.” Mom is visibly shaking with rage as she spits out the warning.

Damitri clicks his tongue. “The woman who kept me alive in my youth, also happens to be the woman that later helped kill me.” He’s walking again and that seems to spur something within me into action. Cai’s constant yelling in my head might have also woken me up. Everyone else seems stuck under some spell. Watching his every move like they might do something wrong if they aren’t attentive enough. They look ready to obey his beck and call; ready to kiss the ground he walks on.

I slip my hand down my thigh and pull the dress up past my knee. The rules of survival have been drilled into me by Roxanne and I know them by heart now.

Rules of Survival 101:

#1: Don’t be Stupid:

-don’t leave home without some sort of weapon. (She liked to add: You’re a Dragon Rider, you’re allowed anywhere with a knife).

The knives strapped to my thighs are cold but familiar as I draw one out and press the sharp blade to my palm.

#2: Don’t be Cocky:

-don’t blatantly show that you have a weapon in high-pressure situations. (Her added comment: Anyone seeing a weapon when they think they’re in control will immediately react).

I need help. Two knives against the guy that’s supposed to be dead – no; incinerated – doesn’t sound like a fair match.

Which is why rule number three rings loud and clear:

#3: Don’t be a Lone Shark:

-you’ve got friends; use them.

I need one of my friends, but none are supposed to be here but Filly, and even she should be gone by now. I need someone at my back. For the past month and a half I have been training to become a Dragon Rider, to protect the creatures of Fantasy, and when it’s finally my chance, I’m by myself and second-guessing everything.

“Did you know she lit the pyre?” Damitri stands directly in front of a fuming Allied Green. Steam could be coming out of her ears as her jaw locks up and defiance shimmers in her eyes. She’s definitely where I get my stubbornness. “Did you know she stood there, never breaking eye-contact, and she watched me; her youngest child; burn? Did she tell you all of that? Maybe Coven did, or Sam, they’ve always been good at disobeying orders of silence.”

“I think you should leave, Damitri.” Mom says calmly, her rage still covers her like a murky film, but she’s fighting it.

Damitri chuckles; a dark sound penetrating the silence around us. “Well, I think that’s an awful idea. I’m told you have five beautiful daughters. And I know of the prophecy. I know of my heritage. I know that you are just shy of being Pure. Which means one of these…” He spends a long time looking down the line of girls at the table. “Quite beautiful girls, is a Fifth’s Fifth.” He snaps his gaze back to Mom. “But that’s as far as my knowledge goes, so you’ll have to tell me which one is my Pure niece.”

My heart is pounding. Surely he hears it? Surely he knows that the girl wearing black at the table of pink is his Pure niece.

No, that sane, always thinking; always rational, part of my brain says, he doesn’t know which girls are his nieces. You’re just the bride’s best-friend, or perhaps some distant relative.

“I’m afraid she is not here.” Mom’s words freeze me. The knives in my hands are suddenly heavy and there’s a cool, thick liquid drizzling down my fingers.

Damitri lunges forward and grabs Mom from across the table, his thick, scared hands wrapping around her neck.

“You lie.” He snarls.

The realization that it’s my blood dripping down my fingers has freed my mind and I’m in motion before I can even consider my decision.

The knife flies through the air and buries itself into Damitri’s forearm. He reacts by dropping Mom, but he doesn’t cry out, doesn’t grab the blade and hurl it back at me, instead he just looks startled. He tries to hide it, but as his green eyes find me, he can’t. There’s a buzzing ‘what just happened’ look in his gaze.

Then he smiles.

It’s a cruel, ugly smile that pulls at his scars and changes his features into something inhuman.

“You’re a brave but stupid girl.” His eyes take me in. Slowly, I realize what he sees – and it’s not Allied Grace Green’s youngest daughter. My hair is still black, but my eyes are too blue; the gold almost nonexistent. I’m too tall (something my father gave me), and my build is of a Rider, not a farm girl. But I don’t have the Rider’s Mark. In his eyes, I’m probably just a nuisance. “And what might your name be?” He walks toward me, not even bothering to retract the knife from his arm, which has started to bleed quite heavily.

“Do not, under any circumstance, answer that question, Smoke Green!” Cai’s roar of outrage wakes me up completely and my mouth snaps shut.

“Come now, no need to be shy.”

“Smoke.” Cai warns.

I hold my tongue.

I basically squirm in my seat when Damitri comes to stand in front of me. The second knife is still hidden under the folds of my dress, but it suddenly feel heavy and obvious. I glare to hide the shake in my gaze.

“Hmm… perhaps a mongrel, you have the features and build of an Elf, but no apparent pointed ears.” Damitri nods, but there’s a hateful fire in his eyes. “Make sense that you’d be friends with this family; they like to take in strays.” My jaw hurts. I really need to lay off clenching it so often. I’m not sure why he’s drawing his own conclusions about who I am. Or why he even cares.

Damitri’s face is suddenly directly in front of me, and his breath is an odd mixture of champagne and something coppery. “Do you know what Demons do to half-bloods?” I lean back in my chair, as far away from him as I can get, but it’s not enough and his presence is choking me.

I have the sudden urge to tell him my real name, to proclaim the truth. The urge leaves as quickly as it came, but I still had the thought and my name is thick on my own tongue.

“Smoke, keep your fly-trap shut!” Cai commands.

“You should really stop yelling in my head,” I respond almost calmly. “I’m trying to ward off… something.”

“Keep warding it off, and I’ll stop yell –” Cai is cut off. Not interrupted, but literally cut off. Like when your phone goes dead while you’re on a call with someone. His presence is still there, but barely. I can’t touch that part of my brain, and then it’s too far away in my own head to even see.

“No.” I gasp aloud in a mere breath, panic making my heart thump faster.

“They like to make an example of them.” Damitri spits.

That’s the only warning I get, before he grabs the knot of hair at the base of my neck and drags me over the table. Food and platters scatter on the floor and then I’m among them, on my knees, my own bloody knife pressed to my throat.

“Demons consider half-bloods a disgrace.” His voice is in my ear. It seems shaky and… fearful. But my chin is shoved into my chest before I can think much on it. “What they do to the men is not pretty, but the woman they like to dishonor in any discriminating, noticeable way.”

He grabs my wild hair and with a swift flick of my knife, I feel the weight at the back of my neck leave and I nearly droop at loss of it.