Page 6 of Song of the Dragon Rider
Cat chose that moment to appear. She strode down the walkway with a demeanor that could slice through steel. Maeve trailed slightly behind her, her expression one of worried anticipation. Cat’s eyes were fixed on me, cold and hard, as if chiseling each word she prepared to hurl at me.
“What do you want?” Cat demanded, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the courtyard like a sharp blade.
Gianna and her companions gasped, their hands flying to their mouths in shock at Cat’s blatant disrespect.
I couldn’t suppress the smirk that crept across my face as I assessed her defiant stance. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t run away,” I said coolly. “I want you where I can see you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Gianna’s bewildered expression, but my focus remained locked on Cat. Provoking her was perhaps not the wisest approach, but it was irresistibly tempting.
Her jaw clenched tightly, and her fists balled at her sides. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” she growled. “You don’t need to monitor me.”
“But I love watching you,” I replied with a grin that only deepened her scowl. “It’s my free day. Walk with me.”
“No,” she snapped, turning to Maeve, who looked equally stunned. “Let’s go back.”
“Arya,” I called out authoritatively, not ready to relent. “I wasn’t giving you an option.”
She halted mid-step, then turned to face me with a glare that could melt the stone beneath our feet. Maeve held her hand, her expression etched with concern.
Finding her voice again, Gianna stepped between us, her demeanor meek but her intention clear. “Your Highness,” she interjected softly. “I think my sister is unwell—”
“She’s fine,” I interrupted sharply, turning my gaze back to Cat. “Aren’t you, Lady Arya?”
Gianna’s honey gold eyes flitted between us, her plea silent but desperate, not just for her sister's well-being but for her own heart, which was entangled in this messy triangle. She didn’t want her sister involved with me, the man she loved, a love that was, sadly, unreciprocated. The complexities of our intertwined fates were playing out in the heart of the Ryder residence, underthe watchful eyes of its denizens and the unyielding gaze of tradition and duty that governed our lives.
Cat’s expression hardened further, her eyes momentarily flickering toward Gianna’s anxious face before settling back on me with steely resolve. “I am quite well, thank you, sister,” she said crisply, her voice carrying a chilly undertone that contradicted the warm breeze drifting through the courtyard. Her posture was rigid, a clear sign she was on edge, ready to defend her stance.
Gianna, caught in the emotional crossfire, withdrew and lowered her gaze as she stepped back. It was clear she felt out of place, her earlier excitement replaced by discomfort and uncertainty. She bit her lip, an obvious sign of her internal struggle as she tried to reconcile her feelings for me with the unfolding scenario.
I turned my attention fully back to Cat. “Arya, I came here to talk. We need to discuss things,” I said, attempting to moderate my tone. I needed her to listen so she could understand the gravity of our connection, the twin flame mark that bound us in ways she was not yet willing to accept. “It’s important.”
Cat’s eyes narrowed, skepticism written across her face. “Talk?” she echoed dryly, her arms still crossed defensively. “Like last time?”
“I know I’ve made mistakes,” I admitted, the words slightly bitter as I acknowledged my missteps. “But I’m here to make things right. Can we at least have a conversation without an audience?” I glanced pointedly at the still-hovering Gianna and her friends, as well as the handful of curious onlookers who had gathered at a discreet distance, drawn by the spectacle.
Maeve, picking up on the hint, motioned to the others. “Perhaps we should give His Highness a moment,” she suggested softly, giving Cat a reassuring look.
Reluctantly, Cat nodded, signaling to Maeve and the others to give us space. Hesitant to move away, Gianna seemed locked in place until I gave her a stern look and she hurried after the group.
When they left, the ambient sounds of the residence—distant chatter, leaves rustling in the gentle wind, and the occasional bird call—filled the silence that momentarily fell between us.
Once we were relatively alone with only the prying eyes of nature and distant servants as our company, I took a deep breath. “Cat, I know you’re angry. I would be, too. But there are things about this world, aboutus, that you need to understand.” I paused, searching for the right words. “This mark,” I continued, rolling up my sleeve and holding up my arm to show the intricate twin flame design, “is not just a symbol. It’s a destiny. And it’s ours, whether we chose it or not.”
Cat looked at the mark, her expression softening fractionally with curiosity but still guarded. “What if I don’t want a destiny decided by some... some mark?” she challenged, her voice a mix of defiance and weariness.
“That’s what I’m here to talk about. To explain why it matters.” I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “There are forces at play here, Cat, that are bigger than us. Forces that could use our separation to their advantage. I’m not asking you to accept everything at once, but Iamasking you to listen. Really listen.”
The gentle breeze shifted, carrying with it the scent of the flowering vines that climbed the walls of the Ryder residence, adding a sweet note to the heavy air of confrontation. Cat watched me for a long moment, her features bathed in the soft light of the morning sun, tossing shadows that played across her face, highlighting the complexity of her emotions.
Finally, she exhaled slowly, a sign of her relenting, at least to the conversation. “Fine. We’ll talk,” she agreed, though herstance remained cautious, her eyes still wary. “I’m listening, Damien. But it better be good.”
As we settled onto a secluded bench under the shade of a blossoming tree, the quiet around us felt like a reprieve, a momentary peace as I prepared to delve into explanations that would unearth the deep-rooted secrets of our existence, and perhaps, shape the course of our intertwined futures. The air carried the earthy scent of moist soil and fresh foliage, a soothing backdrop to the heavy conversation about to unfold.
“You remember how I told you my biggest secret was that I had my dragon bones when I wasn’t supposed to, right? That I could fully shift into a dragon,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper to maintain the privacy of our discussion.
She nodded slightly, her eyes reflecting the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. “Yes. What about it?”
I drew a deep breath, feeling the subtle chill of the stone beneath me seeping through my clothing. “On my twentieth birthday, before I could fully shift for the first time, my bones were extracted. That day, my father didn’t just take my bones; he also took my Heart Scale,” I confessed, my hand instinctively touching my chest over my heart.
