AFFIF Bonus Chapter

*This scene takes place between Chapters 16 and 17 in the book.

“I can’t believe I used to think this passageway was large.” Aemyra mused, peering into the cramped space conveniently concealed behind a lavish tapestry.

Straightening, she pulled back into her father’s study. The room had not changed in ten years, stacks of books still littered almost every surface, the squashy armchair by the window sporting a stain she had made as a child.

Adarian was leaning against the window ledge, thumbing through an old book while Draevan penned swyft correspondence at the desk.

“Draughty is what it is.” Draevan muttered, dipping his quill into the inkwell. “The air seeps through the cracks.”

Aemyra bit back a smile as she observed the tapestry. It was a gruesome depiction of the fifty year war. Unicorns being slaughtered, their golden blood soaking into Brenna’s earth where Dùileach were thrashing one another. Naturally the dragons were flaming in triumph at the top of the whole ghastly scene.

“Rather historically inaccurate.” Aemyra said as Adarian lifted his head from the pages to look at it.

Her brother shrugged. “No doubt the weaver thought it made their piece more dramatic.”

Something in the woven fabric unsettled Aemyra and she ran her fingers across the thick strands.

“Tìr Sgàile fell to the curse before the fifty year war started, there shouldn’t have been any unicorns left during a battle this late in history.” She muttered, frowning at the unicorn’s terrified looking eyes as a man sawed at their horn.

She backed away from the tapestry entirely. Perhaps it was the freshness of her own Bond, but the violence turned her stomach.

“Perhaps we can commission Glenna to make you something a little less bloodthirsty.” Aemyra said to her father.

Draevan made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat, quill scratching against parchment.

“I wonder what it was like before the treaty border went up.” Adarian asked. “It must have been bizarre to look into the sky and see dragons flying alongside griffins or pegasi.”

Aemyra snorted. “I doubt they ever shared the same air, the griffins would be too scared of getting their feathers singed.”

Her twin crossed his arms, ample biceps straining against the fabric of his snowy white shirt. “I’m serious. We saw a kelpie on the crossing, and I wouldn’t mind getting a closer look at some other beathachien.”

“You’ll never see a unicorn, the curse claimed them with their spirit Dùileach.” Aemyra sighed. “Which is what makes that tapestry all the more erroneous.”

Draevan dusted the ink and blew on it before looking at his son. “You are still unbonded, you might have a chance to travel beyond the borders. Spare a thought for us poor dragon riders unable to leave Tìr Teine ever again.”

Adarian snorted. “Yes, poor dragon riders indeed. How ever will you both cope with the notoriety and power?”

Draevan flashed a grin as he rolled up the small scroll and crossed to the bird cage, extracting a silver swift with care.

Aemyra felt the place in her soul that now connected to Terrea ache. It didn’t quite feel like a healing wound, more like overworked muscles that needed time to settle. Like they were stretching into one another.

Massaging her chest, Aemyra looked out of the window and into the cloud-strewn sky. “The treaty exists for a reason. We were too callous with the lives of our beathachien and too many died in the war. The borders keep them safe.” The grisly unicorn taunted Aemyra from behind.

She watched as Draevan opened the window and thrust the swyft out into the stiff wind. Aemyra felt like following.

As if he had sensed the desire in his daughter, Draevan turned to her.

“I have one afternoon in which to instruct you. Then, until we reconvene in Strathaven, you and Terrea are on your own.”

Aemyra’s eyes widened as she looked up at her father. The ghost of the little girl who had once stood in this very room, begging her father to tell her the secrets of dragons echoed in her heart.

“Do you mean it?” She whispered, hardly daring to believe that her father was finally about to grant her wish.

He nodded briskly. “Can’t very well have you falling off and embarrassing yourself now, can we?”

Adarian bit his lip to hide his smile as they followed their father from the room and through the chilly passageways of his Caisteal.

Having been built in 1834 following the exile of Prince Andreas from the mainland – the Caisteal was a mis-match of building styles and materials. The back half had been constructed in desperation, to defend against Uisge raiders and provide a seat for the surviving half-brother of the king, the front had been constructed with far more care and attention in the thirty years following, and the west wing added as an afterthought by Draevan’s father.

“Father?” Aemyra dared to ask, her voice echoing off the dark stone.

“Hm?”

“Did you ever consider just staying here?”

Draevan stopped walking so suddenly, she almost broke her nose on his shoulder blades.

“You both know our bloody family history.” He said.

“How could we forget that comforting bedtime story you read us that began ‘there once were three brothers born of fire, One stoic, one kind, the last full of ire.’” Aemyra drawled.

Draevan raised a brow as Adarian took up the rhyme.

“None were named heir as their father awaited, the greatest of joys, the girl who was fated.”

With an eye-roll, Draevan resumed walking. “I never read either of you nursery rhymes, but the story is true. Three brothers were born to King Vander’s first wife, and two more sons were birthed ten years later by his second.”

“The youngest, Andreas, being your ancestor.” Aemyra supplied.

“Correct.”

As they rounded the corner, Draevan stopped beside a small painting that was half hidden in a shadowed recess, so far back it had escaped Aemyra’s notice. Her father reached in and pulled it out.

“This was painted by Vander’s second wife, Seona.” He said.

Aemyra almost recoiled from the pain depicted on the small canvas. It was almost as horrible as the tapestry.

“She was Bonded to a phoenix named Tarik and travelled to Àird Lasair in 1816 where she met the still-grieving King Vander. He felt like a failure in many ways, for being unable to sire a female heir after he had watched his mother, Queen Earie, kill herself attempting to bring forth a girl. And for failing to save his first wife from sacrificing herself on Beira’s wind.”

“That’s why Vander changed the succession laws while he was regent during his mother’s illness.” Adarian supplied.

Draevan nodded as Aemyra reached for the canvas, running her fingers lightly over the bright red streaks painted by a woman who had lost so much because of male greed.

“The change in the laws didn’t work.” Aemyra said. “Seona birthed twin boys, leaving Vander with five sons who fought one another to the death for the throne.”

“Realor had the biggest dragon out of all his brothers, the adult Kolreath, and that is the only reason he succeeded.” Draevan said, plucking the painting from Aemyra’s fingers and placing it back in the sconce. “Ever since he slaughtered his own kin and four dragons, the royal line has been cursed.”

Aemyra and Adarian exchanged frowns as they followed their father out of the caisteal and into the grey afternoon.

“Cursed?”

“Not like Tìr Sgàile?”

With an impatient wave of his hand, Draevan continued. “Cursed by the Goddesses. Realor married a woman from Tìr Ùir. The first king to do so, and began diluting the magical blood of the royal line. Ever since then, no female from the royal branch of the Daercathian family tree has birthed a female heir, no eggs ever hatched again, and their magic grew weaker.”

This was not news to Aemyra’s ears, but it was interesting that her father was so convinced the Goddesses had actually cursed the royal line themselves.

“My father was content to remain here.” Draevan said, turning back to look at the island caisteal as they climbed the small hill before the village. “But the last dragon egg hatched to him, proving that our line is not cursed.”

Aemyra refrained from reminding her father that Rionnaig had been stunted and weak.  

The wind picked up as Draevan turned towards the mountain, Beinn Deatach.

“When Gealach descended from that peak on my fourteenth breithday I thought I was dreaming.” He said reverently. “But it was at that moment I knew the Goddesses were sending me a message. Gealach had hatched to the last Daercathian queen and I took it as my sign that it was time to fight back, to reclaim what had been taken from us by force. So I embarked on my first crusade.”

A smattering of firebirds scattered from the village as the emerald dragon descended towards the hillside. Aemyra had to hold onto her braid to stop her hair being whipped into knots. Adarian covered his eyes as the dragon landed.

With a smile on his face, Draevan closed the distance to Gealach and rubbed his elegant face reverently. The green dragon was beautiful, with smooth scales and a tapered face.

Draevan turned back to the twins. “I could have given up after I failed to kill Haedren and take the throne for myself, but then the Goddesses sent me another gift, a sign to persevere.”

Aemyra lifted her chin as she felt the still-unfamiliar tug in her chest which meant Terrea was close.

“What was that?” Adarian asked, backing away to give the dragon’s space.

Draevan grinned as he hoisted himself up onto Gealach’s back, his feet and hands finding their place with practiced ease.

“A female heir.” He replied.

Aemyra tried not to let the slight disappointment show on her face that he hadn’t simply said ‘a daughter.’

With a juddering crash, Terrea landed behind them and screams sounded from the village. Clearly no one was used to The Terror appearing in such close proximity.

With a sheepish smile, Adarian set off in the direction of town to try and calm the panic.

Aemyra almost fell flat on her face when Terrea let out a roar from directly behind her with no warning. Gealach’s eyes rolled and he backed up hastily, wings splaying in an uncoordinated mess.

Even Draevan had to quickly seek purchase to avoid spilling over the dragon’s shoulder and onto the grass.

Aemyra believed in her father’s cause, otherwise she never would have put her family in jeopardy by announcing herself as heir to the throne. Four generations ago, their clan had split in two, now only one faction could reign triumphant.

Aemyra felt a warm nudge between her shoulder blades as Terrea bumped her snout against her back. With a smile, she explored this fledgling Bond between them and discovered a riot of emotions. The predominant one being indignation that a man thought he could teach them anything.

Hiding her grin, Aemyra hauled herself into position on Terrea’s back, the skin of her fingers ripping as she clutched the hard scales and she knew she would have bruises from where she bumped her knee against the shoulder joint.

When she was in position, she leaned forward and patted Terrea on the neck as she would a horse, hoping her dragon would understand the gesture.

“Let him have this moment.” Aemyra said as her father began barking instructions. “He’ll never admit it, but he’s been waiting as long as I have to see me on a dragon.”