Bloodlines: Dragon Rider Book 2

Chapter 45: Factions Divided

"I didn't say it'd be my refrigerator. There's one in the dorm's kitchen where everyone can see it." His grassy eyes brighten, warm and open. The relief that swims there is my fault. Neither of us have talked to each other much, mainly me. He's tried. I haven't.

I've been working on my own happiness for once, on putting me first after so many others haven't.

Clarika pins him with a glare. "Try that and I freeze you through-and-through before shattering you with the flick of a finger."

I sigh and sprawl against her, head tilted back onto her shoulder. I'm even dramatic enough to put a hand to my forehead. "You're Renora's child, I expected something much more creative and truly painful from you."

She flicks my temple and I blow on her neck. She jolts, practically throwing herself to her feet. It doesn't feel right to laugh with so many dead around and Dagen in the middle of the dome unconscious. Clarika watches me side-long as she walks, her strides elegant and graceful yet dangerous like a viper coiled to strike.

"You know, I read your notes," she starts, loud enough for everyone to hear. I roll my eyes and lay down against Rima's warm body. Squirm crawls down Rima's tail and onto my lap. She recites from memory, "I met my instructor today, he jabbed me right next to my broken ribs. I thought about slapping him."

My eyes fly open, instantly landing on Holland and his wicked smile. I return it, even as my cheeks burn red. A deep ache fills my chest as she continues on reading the letters I sent in my first year on the islands. The letters I stopped writing to my family because they never wrote back. Eventually, I gave in to the fact that they were probably just using them as kindling in our fireplace.

"I also met the pureblood on my team. I despise him and would gladly push him off the islands if given the chance."

Adam's lips twitch in a smile, green eyes darting between us. "I'm sensing a little bit of aggression in you. I'm going to have to ask you to take it down a notch."

Holland sighs, rubbing his face, and goes to sit by his dragon carefully crouched on the ice. "I miss adults," he grumbles to Galeur.

The others fall into conversation, Adam trying to guess what Dagen could be seeking out, what could be in Chiver City, and in Aros. I glare at my sister still circling the dome, her hands clasped behind her back. No one notices. And if Clarika does, she doesn't show it, instead flashing a sneering smile of victory.

Crimsons have mysterious ways of opening up.

"I was mad," she says after a few minutes, coming to sit beside me again when our conversation is long forgotten by the others.

I don't need to ask what she means. "It happened years ago, I don't really care anymore."

"I think you care," says Rima, quickly darting out of my mind before I can throw up my mental shields.

Clarika looks like she may want to say something—to explain why she never wrote. But Crimsons do not explain themselves and do not dwell in emotions. She leans against Rima and closes her eyes. I do the same and fold my arms.

She doesn't need to tell me why she didn't write, I've had years to think about it. Becoming a dragon rider was not my decision, we both know that, but it was still a knife to the back. We had grown up trusting each other, studying, and enduring a world where trust is a weakness. She was vulnerable and hurt, left alone with parents who value her more as property than a daughter. We were supposed to lead the new generation of mages together. To trust each other.

And leaving broke that.

The Norah from four years ago would have apologized to her. But leaving was never my fault—I didn't choose it. And despite everything, it is still the best thing to ever happen to me. Back then I couldn't have known that, too consumed in the crave for acceptance from my family. But now...