A Fifth Daughter [Book 1: The Dragon Rider]

Angel’s Trumpet is a pendulous bell that sways daintily from strong branches, it can be in many different colors, but the most toxic to Pure Ones are white. I have no idea why, but something about that shade is basically deadly to us. Davenport made a weak concoction of it, and everyone is having a hay day about “why he would do such a thing if he didn’t even know that a Pure One was in the ballroom?” Of course everyone comes back with maybe “he was just seeing who he had to deal with.” It then comes back around again; “he didn’t finish off a little girl playing with sticks all by himself?” I know, so insulting, and the guy basically said it to my face.

But it’s okay, all these old guys seem to have forgotten what it’s like to be in a time of war. They grew up when only men could join the Mages, and if my something-great-grandmother hadn’t put an end to that as queen, I have a feeling that it would still be that way.

“Ugh…” I sigh aloud and flop back on the cushiony grass of the mountain island, named; Dragon Island. Nyx coos beside me, her head coming to rest on my stomach, I try not to laugh at the weird sensation of her scale while Cai makes a noise of annoyance from around my feet.

“Jealous much?” I tease.

“Ha… I do not get jealous of such small creatures.”

“Yeah, you’re jealous.”

Cai shoves me out of his head with a mental glare, and I chuckle, causing Nyx’s scales to rub my stomach and make those tickling chills again.

“What are you two talking about?” Eaton comes into view above me, upside down from my position. His silver eyes shine like a twin full moons on a cloudless night. The sun dances off of his black and silver hair, that really needs a trimming as it curls around his jaw. Astrid comes and flops down beside me, smiling.

“Cai’s jealous of Nyx.” I state teasingly.

“I am not!”

“Are too.”

“Ha…” Eaton says, “Don’t worry, Cai. I’m jealous of Smoke, my own dragon likes her better.”

Cai huffs, rolling his eyes. “I am not jealous.”

I grin. “You totally are.”

Eaton laughs as he drops down beside Astrid. “You know they’re waiting for us, right?” He plucks grass and begins dropping it on my head.

I huff out a breath of annoyance and a blade flutters off from around my mouth. Eaton replaces it with three more. “Do I have to go?”

Eaton just raises an eyebrow at my whiny attitude and Astrid shoves his shoulder. “What?!” She gives him a look and he sighs, turning back to me. “Today should be the last meeting, so let’s just deal with it.”

I groan out some insults involving treason and climb to my feet. Nyx whines when her head drops to the ground. Cai, on the other hand, stands and gives Nyx a haughty look that says; Ha, now who’s better?

I sigh, “You are totally jealous.”

“Am not.”

“Whatever.” I climb onto the saddle and get comfortable just as Cai takes off. The familiar strong gust of brisk wind hasn’t affected me this whole week. It has become as natural as mounting Cai. Only with October half-way over, the weather is going to begin frosting over and soon I’ll have to bundle up so I don’t get sick.

Nyx and Eaton, Astrid and Fletcher are behind us as soon as Cai levels out above the wispy clouds. Two of my four friends never leaving my side for anything. Sadly Mandy was called home and Filly hasn’t come back since she went home, her mother thinking her home in Elven Wood is safer than anywhere else.

I glance toward Rosemont Castle as Blackridge Mountain begins to take up the horizon. The once shining castle is now a charred and ruined smudge on its little island. Just a little over a week ago it had been a beautiful structure ready to house the wedding of Prince Carter King and no-title, country girl Carma Green. Now it is a desolate place and a bread crumb of Davenport’s destruction. He left everything within Legend alone, except for Rosemont.

There were only seven deaths; all human, and now there’s a mob of people crowding the doors of the school, because they found out the queen is in Legend and they want answers. We have to land at the caves of Blackridge and travel through the escape tunnel just to avoid the mob, but even at the backdoor a group of people mill around, waiting for their chance to talk to the old men of the Council and Fantasy’s queen.

Trust me, guys, it’s not worth it. They’re all a bunch of crabby, lazy butts too old to tie their own shoes.

With a dejected on-the-verge-of-a-groan sigh, I slip from the saddle and nearly sit down on the ground like a child about to pout. I really don’t want to deal with these old men again, let alone my grandmother.

“Come on, Smoke.” Eaton pushes against my shoulder, bumping me toward the great gates. “Let’s just get this over with.” I turn back to Astrid, but she won’t come in, something about too many people to try and understand. I think it’s just her excuse to get out of seeing these old guys, and I don’t blame her. We all hate them.

We enter the tunnel, the guards letting us through immediately, and almost instantly I bump my head on a low part of the ceiling and hash out a groan.

Eaton chuckles.

“Thanks for the warning,” I grumble, rubbing the now sore spot on my crown.

“I did warn you,” he puts his hands up defensively; palms out. “You’re just always in your own head, barely ever listening to anyone else.”

“Yeah, well, there have been a lot of things to think about lately,” but I can’t stop there, because we’ve hit a gloomy time and I need Eaton to laugh again, “and a lot of people to ignore.”

He does laugh, although it seems throatier than it used to be; deeper; richer. Now that I have seen the beast under his skin, even his laugh sounds enhanced.

I didn’t have to ask Eaton about his Werewolf bloodline or Alpha control, he told me. His grandparents were very strong Werewolves and so is his father and mother, giving Eaton a very pure power. Even though a Werewolf’s only powers are command and healing, Eaton has the even more advanced version of that, and the Alpha title just adds to strength. Of course, Eaton is just like me when it comes to titles and he really doesn’t want it. Apparently they don’t take refunds.

“You’d think they’d treat us with a little more respect.” Eaton comments. We’ve had this conversation before. The Council members find him and I a nuisance and wouldn’t mind us dead, but I’m Crown Princess and Eaton is Alpha of Southern Lunashield. It doesn’t get much worse than that. There are no refunds for what we are, and ignoring the purchase is nearly impossible. “We’re no disgraces. We’re both from a pure royal line.”

I shrug to hide my flinch at that word. Disgrace. It’s what got me in this mess in the first place. But I can’t hide my disgust toward my own title – or titles. Pure One and Crown Princess of Fantasy. Neither of which I’d had a choice in having. Neither of which I want.

All of my four friends know. They know that I’m in line for the throne. They know, and some of them aren’t in the happiest of moods that I hid it from them. Mandy about bit my head off, and Filly sounded ready to eat the leftovers over the phone. Astrid and Eaton took it okay, but then again, Eaton had been hiding that he was a Werewolf from Filly and I, so he wasn’t allowed to get mad.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, they might be a pain in the butt and in need of a shaping out, but you said it yourself; this should be the last one, so let’s just get is over with.”

He nods slowly and we continue onward. A man greets us at the school entrance for the tunnel to lead us to the classroom that the Council and Queen have commandeered for the time being – it’s the same as last meetings, but we are still given a guide.

“Oh, fantastic, you made it.” The ruffled owl is Hoot (no that’s not his real name, but Eaton and I got bored one meeting and gave everyone nicknames). His name plaque in front of his perch says; Oliver. But that’s a sensible name and he is anything but sensible.

Each member of the Council – thirteen in total – has chosen a row and their name hangs from one of the chairs on the aisle. Hoot is at the bottom, his talons digging into the back of the chair scratching deep grooves into the wood. The only change done to the room was to the stage. The teacher’s desk was been moved to the side for the assistant and two gory thrones took its place.

Rayn explained the seats to me, but I still think it’s too dark for a queen – or anyone other than Davenport – to sit in. Images of Werewolves and Vampires in deathly combat, Elves and Dwarves beheading one another, Warlocks and Witches killing Sages and humans with spells of powerful magic. But the worst is the Demon (which would be the typical looking Demon; hollow eyes, tall rotting body, long fangs and claws, squashed nose, along with many other carnage ligaments). Its head is fitted to sit on the right shoulder of whoever sits there, while its body is covered in the slaughter of the races. It just shows so much death. It is not the throne of anyone. But there’s Rayn, wearing a silky white dress and even whiter, silkier cape, sitting on the throne of death.

She explained that it’s to show what everyone has lived through, why everyone has built up the peace treaties. But, well, you know what I think about it. Apparently, though, if I were to, I don’t know, burn it, the treaties would be broken and war would be wreaking havoc everywhere. That’s a lot more carnage than this chair can depict. So, I guess the throne has to stay.

“This is our school.” Eaton growls at Hoot, while leading us to the chairs set up on the sidelines.

“Correction,” Hoot points up a feathered finger. “This is Ms. Green’s school; you forfeited that right at soon as you shifted on school grounds.”

(I forgot to explain that: because of how powerful Eaton is, he was told he couldn’t shift on school grounds in fear that he might lost control and kill someone, if he ever did shift, he’d be suspended. Of course under these circumstance both Rayn and Alex said it was necessary. So the shift has be seen as heroic and he gets to remain in school.)

Eaton raises his hand, showing the still thriving, silver tattoo of Nyx on his palm. “Still have my dragon, so go complain to someone else.”

I breathe deeply. I can’t wait to get out of here. Hoot is typically the only one to make comments, but if Yip (real name James) or Dye (Tobias) open their mouths too much, Eaton will explode: Just like he did yesterday and the day before, and the day before that.

“I’m bored.” Cai complains.

“Go chase a rabbit or something. I can’t exactly not be present for this.”

“Well, it’s not like you want to be there.”

“Cai.”

“Fine. But you left me with Nyx, so if you happen to come out and find me chasing her around, I blame it all on you.”

I don’t respond. I can’t. Eaton is fuming and I’m the only one that can keep him from killing everyone in the room. This is why Astrid needs to be here.

“Come on,” I murmur feeling Rayn’s gaze as I make Eaton sit down. I know what she wants. But it’s not what I want. I still have five years and I will use them wisely.

I meet her gaze, ignore the command, and sit beside Eaton even though these two seats we’ve claimed the past few days aren’t ours. Eaton’s is the third row down but he hasn’t claimed it since these meetings started. Mine is a little more of an eyesore. It’s the smaller replica of Rayn’s throne, placed directly by her side, and I will not sit in it, no matter how many times she begs or says the word please.

Rayn sighs, sounding exhausted, and starts, “Well, now that everyone is here, we can begin what wasn’t finished yesterday, due to some” – she looks between Yip and Eaton – “interruptions.” Rayn straightens her dress, then continues, “Tobias, you may give your report now.”

Tobias is the youngest of the members, and we dubbed him Dye because of his orange and yellow highlights in his otherwise black hair. The curved orange, almost red ears pointing through his multicolored hair tell of the beast inside him. He’s a tiger. Confidence rolls off him as he stands from his row somewhere in the middle. He represents the ground Shifters while Hoot stands for the Shifters of flight and an old whale Shifter in the back is here for the water Shifters.

Eaton tenses beside me and I prepare to basically sit on him so he won’t do anything. Werecats and Werewolves are worse off than Vampires and Werewolves. The feud started a long time ago; the cats thought they should have their own land like the wolves do. The then queen [my something-great-grandmother (a different one from my something-great-grandmother that allowed girls to enter the Mages)] didn’t allow it and the cats have been jealous ever since.

Dye clears his throat. “A Fairy friend, Cara, the Lady Fae of Fairy Land, has asked me bring before the Council something that has been happening for a few weeks now.” He pauses when a member coughs. “Many of her Fairies have been found dead, and their dust collected. I believe the Vampires are having a similar problem.” He gestures toward the only Vampire in the room.

Fangs (a.k.a. Turner King – a.k.a. Carter’s dad) stands and fixes his jacket. “Yes, there have been Vampires missing and then found dead and defanged.”

There’s a collective intake of hissing air through teeth from everyone but Eaton and I. We share a frown.

“So, are we to assume that Warlocks are siding with Davenport?” Rayn asks. Everyone looks at the Warlock in the room. He’s asleep on his palm, drool slipping down from between his open lips.

Gross.

“Neal?” Rayn pounds on the arm of her throne, the sound echoing around the room. Eaton and I nicknamed him Bones, because he’s a Warlock and they read cow bones to see the future – supposedly. The man behind Bones, Jasper (or as we call him; Burns, because he’s a Dragon Rider from Myth) hits the sleeping man in front of him on the back. Bones’ palm slips and he almost whacks his head on the armrest.

“I object!” He yells out, stutters for a moment, then blinks away his sleep. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about I seem to have blanked out.”

Eaton and I are the only ones quietly chuckling and fighting smiles.

Dye, Fangs, and Rayn all repeat their statements. Bones fumbles over his thoughts, speaking aloud in gibberish, before standing and straightening his grey hair.

“A few years ago I brought before the council the name; Miguel Fouler. He created a rebellion to destroy anything and everything. He was power hungry. Now while we acted and killed him, we believe that the disbanded insurgents have formed again, and this only proves it. Were there any other signs on the bodies?” He directs the question to Dye and Fangs, his left eyebrow twitching. It oddly reminds me of when Tempest is lying. “Matching jewelry perhaps?”

Dye glances at the open ceiling in thought, but it’s Fangs who answers with his Vampire memory. “Yes, all the bodies had beaded cords somewhere on their person with a small silver cross pendant.”

Bones nods, as if he knew as much. “Then the Catholic has indeed risen again, just as he said he would.”

Well that’s just great. First my dead uncle rises from the grave and now a dead Warlock. Can this get any worse?

There’s a knock on the door and the entire room seems to jump as any tension in the room pops.

“Everyone calm down,” Fangs says, chuckling quietly. He descends the steps from his lofty position at the top and opens the door. He doesn’t say anything but just takes a large yellow envelope from whoever is on the other side. He turns, sees us all tense, and laughs. “It was just someone I asked to bring me something I forgot. Unlike all of you think, Vampires do get old sometimes.”

That lightens the air, and with a nod from the queen, Fangs continues; “About a week ago a strange… uh… run in with, shall we say; an old friend, made me a little curious. Mostly because I’d been told this old friend was dead and when asked, someone I trust with my life; said the same.”

Fangs looks at me as he tears the seam of the yellow envelope. “My son, Carter happens to be the person who affirmed my beliefs, and his new wife happens to be the daughter of the man in question.”

There are only two gasps that fill the room. Mine and Rayn’s. My heart hammers away at my chest at the absurd notion.

“Do you have any evidence of this?” Rayn asks, a little breathless.

He hands her the envelope. “I’m not the only one to have spotted him.”

No.

Rayn pulls out a few sheets of glossy paper.

No.

She gasps.

No!

Looking at me, her eyes seem to have harden, although she tries to soften the look.

NO!

She holds one of the sheets toward me, silently bidding me to come closer. To look.

This cannot be happening.

But I’m standing, walking, and taking the picture from her.

The blonde haired man in the photo is staring toward the camera, although not fixated on it. His bright green eyes are looking slightly to the right. He’s smiling, showing pearly white teeth and a slight dimple in the left cheek. I almost release a breath of relief. It’s just my brother Chase.

Wait. No, it’s not.

This man has a slight beard (Chase hates his facial hair). His eyes are too green. His hair is too long. It might have been a while since I’ve seen Chase, but I know him. And if Mom didn’t stop him every time he cut his hair, let’s face it, he’d be bald.

No, there’s only one person who looks so much like Chase that they could be twins. And that’s Charles A. Green. My fourteen years in the ground, dead father.

I stare at Coal.

I just had to run into him in my attempt to escape the Council room.

Eaton growls behind me.

There really is no where I can go to escape everyone.

Coal takes a respectful step back, his body submitting, before Eaton lets him go from the earth-shaking warning rumbling in his chest.

“I’m glad I found you Smoke,” Coal says, obviously relaxed now that Eaton isn’t a threat of snapping his head off. Although, I wouldn’t put it past him.

“Can we talk later? I really don’t feel like dealing with anyone right now.” My right palm begins to heat up. I ignore it. Coal doesn’t.

He lifts my hand by the fingertips, showing us the palm. I pull back and stare wide-eyed at my palm. Cai’s mouth just below my pointing finger is open, but instead of imaginary fire shooting from his maw, a blue flame flickers down my finger to the center of my hand.

“No, I think we need to talk now.” Coal glances at Eaton, and then nods toward an empty classroom. Well, all of the classrooms are empty because of the attack. But that’s just a faraway thought as I stare at the blue plume of fire dancing across my fingertips and collecting at my palm where Cai’s head is

“I heard about your Alpha voice, Smoke.” Coal leans against the teacher’s desk, I stand just inside the doorway, and Eaton shoulders the wall. “And now seeing this, I think we can safely assume you’re a Multi.” He barely has my attention. What’s a what now?

He chuckles. My face probably says all he needs to know that he lost me. “You’re able to use other people’s abilities. Eaton’s Alpha voice,” – he points at the dancing blue heat in my hand – “my Pyro. It’s a pretty rare power. In fact only one person has ever had it. Want to guess who?”

Rhetorical question.

“Your many great-grandmother ago. Her name was Clare, and she was the first Pure Daughter in the world, and in your family. So, that power must be pretty strong for it to stay dormant and travel all the way to you. Although, I’d say it helps that your Grandfather is a Seventh’s Son.”

WHAT? My mouth drops open. “What did you say?”

Coal frowns, as if the statement is common knowledge. “Your mom’s dad, Esston Hays, is a Seventh’s Son.”

I open my mouth but whether it’s to either object or to ask for more, I’m not sure. Not only has this been kept from me, but Coal continues to talk in the first person, as if my grandfather is still alive, when my grandmother seemed to think otherwise. But the door almost hits Eaton as Rayn storms in, and my chance at some answers plummets to the earth and shatters.

“Your – Your Majesty,” Coal stutters, bowing.

“That’s quite enough Coal, you may leave.” Rayn is fuming. With a quick glance at Eaton and a head incline to me, Coal leaves.

Rayn shuts the door after him and breathes deeply before turning to me. I’m suddenly a little fearful for my life. This explains where Mom got her angry-face from. From the neck up Rayn is flushed the deepest crimson I have ever seen. I wonder if she can even see me. Maybe I can sneak out and she’ll continue to stare at the same spot thinking I’m still there.

Probably not.

“Is my grandfather still alive?”

Her jaw clenches.

“Well, is he?”

No answer.

Fine. With a huff, that’s more of a scowling scoff, I turn and leave with Eaton behind me.

She doesn’t move.

Now my uncle, my father, and perhaps my grandfather are all alive – along with this Catholic guy.

What is wrong with this world? When someone dies, they’re supposed to stay dead!

I’m back to where I started this morning, only this time I’m mounted on Cai and we landed at the very peak of the mountain that makes up the floating land mass called Dragon Island. The sun is setting beautifully in the west, casting the world in a mirage of evening shades.

My fingers flex and the paper folded within crumples. The words are engrained into my mind, but still I open the note up and stare at them.

Smoke,

I’d keep your Jade on if I were you; Multi aren’t known for controlling themselves very well under emotional circumstances.

- someone watching out for you

This is the second one from – I’m guessing – the same anonymous sender, who is apparently watching out for me. They must have a really busy life trying to keep an eye on me.

In my right hand, atop the black replica of Cai’s head tattooed into my palm is the black dragon scale, my Jade.

“What are we going to do now?” Cai asks, quietly.

I stare at the Jade a little harder, slowly glaring at it. For a perfect moment there’s silence in my head. Silence ruined by images of Red Fire, screams, glass shattering, and a Demon with gold-grey eyes. My fingers curl around the Jade.

“We’re going to fight.”