EIGHT YEARS BEFORE

  A massive wyvern loomed overhead. The warm oil paints, blended with real gilt, gave the painting a majestic quality, even with its jagged, spiked crest. But those piercing eyes, huge and glowing gold and following my every step, were what made it a monster. As if it knew what I planned and dared me to try.

  “You,” I whispered to the painting, my finger still poised over the feeding site marked on the map. “Skies be damned, I will see one of you today.”

  The doorknob rattled.

  I shoved the map into my pocket and snatched a book from Father’s shelf. I flipped it open and leaned casually against his desk.

  With exaggerated slowness, Father eased into the snug room decorated with all his war trophies and awards. Likely to give me ample time to cover up my antics; I’d seen him move far faster on the training grounds.

  “Off on an adventure?” He smiled, that rare broad one reserved only for me. It made his eyes young and playful again. He nudged the book enough to see the title. “Ah, yes, that’s a good one. I go there myself sometimes.”

  I snapped the book shut. “I hate her.”

  “She only wants what’s best for your future. We cannot fault her for that. She comes from different stock than us and can guide you in ways I sorely cannot.”

  “I don’t want to be a lady.” The word tasted like acid.

  “Ah,” he said, like this was sensible, though my stepmother had assured me it definitely wasn’t. “Sometimes, I don’t want to be the High Guard either.”

  I straightened. I couldn’t imagine him as anything else. He’d been a guard all my life, now the most honored High Guard of all history. “What would you be?”

  He grinned, his teeth a chipped white against his dark beard, and tapped the book. “I’d be an adventurer. And if not that, a hero.”

  I scoffed. “But you are a hero.” He’d ended the war. He was the greatest hero in our kingdom. A peasant who rose to Lordship through only the power of his actions.

  “Ah,” he said and bumped his knuckle against my chin. “Only if I see you grown and happy. Then, I’ll be satisfied.”

  I tried to scowl, but I couldn’t stay mad at him, not when he was home.

  He rested a warm, strong hand on my shoulder. “Come now, let’s eat. I return to duty tomorrow, and all adventures are best led with a full belly.”

  I reluctantly set the book aside and followed him out. At least I’d gotten the map.

  Crates still dotted the halls and our new spacious dining room. Servants were fervently unpacking and rushing about. Father gave each we passed an appreciative nod. The sight of all of it left me missing the palace, the servants’ quarters, my friends… My body burned again, an awful searing helplessness I wanted to claw from my skin.

  “Ah, she graces us.” Clara rose from her seat at the long, smoothly polished table upon Father’s arrival. Her face twisted into one of those lying smiles—the kind that turned her mouth, but did nothing to soften the raven-like beadiness of her eyes.

  Her sniveling worm of a daughter, Lilianna, rose too. Head bowed. Eyes downcast. I hated that Clara expected the same of me. I wouldn’t be that. I wouldn’t cow and simper.

  Father waved both to sit and took his own seat at the end.

  I flopped into mine next to Lilianna, my chin high. I was no lady and I never would be.

  “This union of our family marks a new chapter in all our lives and with that comes some changes,” Clara said, voice dripping with melody like she’d been part of this family for more than a single day. “Your father and I discussed it and, starting today, you’ll be spending your afternoons with me and Lilianna, studying manners and etiquette.”

  “What?” I slammed my hands on the table and launched to my feet. “I have plans. The afternoons are mine.”

  Father’s jaw tensed as he set his napkin down. “We agreed to ease her into it.”

  Agreed… I stared, my mouth slack. Father agreed.

  “We have to start as soon as possible,” Clara said. “Gold-marked like her, at this age? She could become royalty, William.”

  “Perhaps, my dear, but she’s only eleven. She doesn’t yet care who, or even if, she marries.” He turned treacherous eyes on me. He’d taught me to fight. How to hold my own with the other servant brats, how to hold my head high. And now he wanted me to be like her? “Aubrey, my ferocious little warrior, there are all kinds of adventures to be had. Court can be as treacherous as any battle and you will need a mother’s help.”

  I recoiled, knocking my chair over. “She’s not my mother!”

  I ran.

  From the manor and out into the yard, where Ray twirled his blunted practice sword.

  “Finally! Did you get the map? We don’t—Are you crying?”

  I snatched his hand and kept going.

  He yelped and dropped the sword to stumble after me.

  And then we were running across the field, into the forest, his hand a steady grip that held tighter the further we traveled. His strides beat steadily beside me, longer than mine, but matched in pace. He didn’t have to ask why or what happened.

  He knew me better than anyone.

  We ran together through the brush as it lashed and clawed at our flesh. I wasn’t covered, not like I’d normally be, and it filled me with exhilarating danger: my gold skin raw and exposed and free to the musky, moss-scented forest air. I wanted to tear my clothes off completely, expose every patch and splotch of gold to the wild, let it take me away from the studies and lessons and sitting still and pretty, like a bird trapped in a cage with no room to stretch her wings. I wouldn’t be that bird.

  I’d be a wyvern. A force to be reckoned with.

  My boots sunk into the muddy bank of a creek and I drew up short, panting, lungs burning with sobs I would not allow. I swiped viciously at my cheeks.

  Ray panted beside me, finally letting go of my hand as we both braced ourselves on our knees and sucked in the humidity and sour decay of the deep forest and…

  “Do you smell that?” Something sickly sweet, almost rancid, wrinkled my nose and turned my stomach.

  Ray sniffed, sweat sticking dark curls to his forehead. “Smells awful. Did you get the map?”

  “Smells like wyverns.” One of the beasts I was supposed to be so afraid of. A grin pulled across my face and eased the burning of my eyes. I yanked the crumpled map from my pocket and passed it to him.

  “You think?” He scanned the map, pivoted slightly, and pointed deeper into the woods. “That way and not much further.”

  I stepped forward.

  Ray caught my arm, fingers closed over the long sleeves of my linen shirt, his eyes asking the question he didn’t speak. My shirt covered the patches of gold splattered across my arms, and a quick tug of the laces at my throat hid away the patch that reached my collarbone. But it didn’t hide the sprinkle that dotted the backs of my hands or my temple, like misplaced freckles.

  “It’s now or never,” I said, staring into Ray’s quiet dark eyes, a deep bluish-brown. The eyes that understood exactly the weight of my words. “Tomorrow you join the guard and now my stepmother says I—” My voice choked off.

  Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Everything changed tomorrow.

  His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Let’s go then.”

  A stick snapped far off behind us and we both jumped. Skies Above, how did Father get here so fast?

  Ray tugged my hand and we set off again, ducking under branches, vines ripping at our clothes, and his fingers an ever-present pull into the future, into the unknown, into this last adventure.

  We broke from the forest and into a clearing. The remains of large prey animals littered the forest floor. Mostly deer, judging by the nearest pile of bones. Buzzing flies whipped across my sightline and tickled my nose. The grass and brush at the center had all been trampled down. At my feet, a huge clawed print, larger than a dinner plate, marked the ground.

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  “Wow,” I breathed, creeping further into the clearing. Bones crunched under my boots. “Do you really think they drain girls like me of our gold? Empty husks, the stories say.”

  Ray snorted. “Who’s seen those ‘empty husks’ to prove it? Can’t say I want to give it a go today, though.”

  At the far edge of the clearing, the trees parted at a steep slope to reveal the plains beyond. I’d never been this far into the woods, never seen this other side. I crept towards it. The open plains beyond the forest stretched endlessly. My world of tutors and romps in the forest with friends was so small compared to this expanse of land and mystery. It called to me like a song.

  Ray joined me, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as if he felt that same call. And he probably did. He was going to escape by joining the Guard, like Father.

  There was no escape for me. Not for a girl with gold skin.

  I had to get married.

  Far across the golden plains of parched grass laid the Scarland—the wyvern’s realm. A dull gray landscape scarred with long black cracks, where even plants lost their will to live.

  A shimmering dot flew across the amber horizon, glistening gold and red in the sinking sun’s rays: a wyvern. The sight sparked a warmth in my chest, a burning ache to fly away and never look back.

  The speck soared like a vulture, occasionally flapping to gain height as it cut back and forth across the sky.

  I drifted forward. If only I could see if its neck was studded in spikes, if the wings were webbed like in drawings and paintings. To see the scales that made it shine like an iridescent gem.

  Ray caught my elbow, his fingers a gentle reminder of the danger. Wyverns coveted gold. They coveted gold girls, like me.

  I stared out at the stretch of cracked land and the glittering dot that seemed so harmless. “I wish Farnell was here to see this, instead of fire tunnel duty.”

  “I don’t. He’d just be whining about how stupid this is.” A grin creased Ray’s cheeks. “To be fair, this is pretty stupid.”

  It was amazing, not stupid.

  A branch snapped behind us.

  I spun around.

  Two figures stumble into the carcass-lined clearing.

  Both I recognized instantly. Neither were Father.

  Prince Emory kept his customary hunch as he pushed his floppy blond hair back from wary eyes.

  The other boy, easily a head and shoulders taller than Emory and five years both our senior, threw his shoulders back as he strutted across the clearing. Maurus Venon. My new neighbor since Father’d moved us to this estate and the foulest boy I know. Every time Lord Venon visited the palace, he freed his stupid spawn on the likes of us palace servant kids and Maurus never failed to put us in our place, usually with insults, sometimes with his fists.

  “Ah, you were right, Em,” Maurus drawled, his patchy attempt at a mustache twisting into a smirk. “It was indeed the golden rat we saw scurrying through the woods with her prized dog. And look what they’ve found, a wyvern feeding site? Oh Aubrey, your daddy won’t like this.” He clucked his tongue at me.

  “Feel free to run back to yours if you’re scared,” I spat back.

  Ray’s grip tightened on my arm.

  Maurus’s lip curled into a snarl.

  “Is that really what this is, Aubrey?” Emory said, voice tight and high. “I thought you were making it up yesterday.”

  Ray cut a look at me with a face that said, ‘you told him?’

  I had… damnit. Yesterday we’d still lived at the palace and, like most afternoons, Em slunk down to hang with us—apparently they didn’t provide the Prince with servant friends up in the royal parts of the palace. But I’d never considered, not for a moment, Em would come to the Venon estate and traipse after me.

  “Sure is, Prince,” I said, unable to resist the opportunity to gloat, and thrust a finger at the sky.

  “That tiny speck? Hardly counts. Em told me all you want is to see a wyvern.” Maurus said ‘wyvern’ with a sarcastic lilt and a wave of his hands as he stalked to us.

  My hackles rose, but Maurus wasn’t the type of boy you ran from. Fear encouraged. I lifted my chin instead and met his gaze. “Who wouldn’t? I’d rather look my enemy in the eye than cower and hide.”

  The spread of Maurus’s smile lit something dangerous in his gaze. He gripped my shirt sleeve and tore it with one deft yank, exposing the glittering gold markings that marred my shoulder and sparkled in the dying sunlight. “Shine for us then, Lady Aubrey Gallant. Bring that wyvern over here so we can look at it!”

  “Hey!” Ray lurched towards Maurus.

  I thrust out a hand to stop Ray, oh Skies, if he got himself into a fight with a Lord’s son—

  Before I could catch a grip on the situation, Maurus gave my bared shoulder a rough shove. I hadn’t expected it, though I should have. I stumbled back and the loose soil at the edge of the incline gave way beneath my boot. I flailed and clawed for something to catch myself on. My fingers brushed Ray’s and then the weightlessness of falling gripped me.

  My back slammed into the hardened meadow a man’s height down. The air whisked from my lungs with a seizing vice of pressure and the back of my head struck dry, packed ground and everything went dark.

  I opened my eyes. The sky blurred orange and hazy.

  Agony gripped my chest, leaving me unable to suck in a breath. I’d had the wind knocked out of me plenty of times, but Skies, it hurt. I pushed up to sitting and forced in a strangled breath. “Asshole.”

  Ray… where was Ray?

  “Aubrey, are you alright?” Emory called down from up the plateau, where he glanced nervously between me and somewhere back out of sight. “Seriously Maurus, stop it!”

  No, no, no. I hurled myself at the cliff-side. Ray. I scrambled up the loose soil, rocks and dirt clods tumbling in my wake.

  I reached the top of the ledge and nearly slipped down again at the sight.

  Maurus loomed over Ray, either knee pinning down each of Ray’s arms. Blood dribbled from Maurus’s nose and he twirled a dagger in one hand.

  Skies Above, Ray had punched him. “Let him go,” I shouted as I heaved my body over the ledge. Emory pulled me up by the back of my shirt.

  Maurus spit blood from his still-gushing nose onto Ray’s face and cackled. “Why stop now? We’re just getting to the real fun. This peasant thinks he can lay hands on his master. We can’t have that. And, besides, I’ve always wondered if human joints are as easy to dismember as an animal’s.” Maurus pried open Ray’s clenched fist and gripped the smallest finger.

  I lurched towards them just as a horrible tolling sounded. Instinctively, I flinched and ducked, as did Emory. I’d heard it a dozen times at the palace, but I’d never been out in the open for it.

  The Wyvern Bell.

  I craned my neck and searched the sky, but I didn’t see it…

  Emory grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the treeline. “We need to get out of here!”

  I knew I should go. Knew I should run for cover. But I was already moving, already twisting free of Emory’s grip. “Ray!”

  “Let’s leave the beast a little treat.” Maurus dipped the dagger’s silver tip into the base of Ray’s littlest finger.

  Ray screamed. Not a regular scream. Not a scream I’d ever heard before in my life.

  I heard nothing else. Saw nothing else. Only Ray. Only the blade sinking into Ray’s sword hand. My body moved of its own accord, scooping up a bone from the scattered remains around us. I swung the femur’s knuckled end into the side of Maurus’s head just as glinting silver sliced clean through Ray’s flesh.

  The pink, unmoving finger fell into the yellowed grass.

  Maurus toppled off of Ray like a lifeless sack, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t fast enough. I scrambled to Ray, to the blood pulsing in little spirts from the raw, bloody, vacant stub.

  “No,” I sobbed, clutching at his hand and staring into his horror-struck dark eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he was supposed to join the guard. I tore my sleeve all the way free of my arm and balled it up against his hand. Almost immediately, it grew wet and warm and red.

  Ray’s free, undamaged hand gripped my bare wrist. “Aubrey,” he said with the weight of our danger—my exposure.

  With the grip of his fingers around the patches of gold at my wrist, an odd tingling spread across my body. I gasped at the sensation and Ray’s eyes widened, as if he felt it too.

  Something gripped my shoulder and ripped me backwards. A wyvern, I knew it, except—

  Maurus hurled me into the dirt and dropped his knees onto my chest. He smiled down at me, blood from his nose staining his teeth, and closed both hands on my neck. “It doesn’t matter that your father married another noble, it doesn’t even matter that the King gave him our land. He’s still nothing but a worthless peasant and he always will be. And so will you. No matter how much gold you grow, the Houses will always see your family for what it is: a swarm of rats.”

  His words fueled a miserable, hate-filled fire within me. This boy who’d cut off Ray’s finger. Who’d dashed Ray’s chances to be a guard, to rise the ranks like my father had to a better future. He couldn’t win. I wouldn’t let him. My vision dotted black. He was bigger than me, stronger than me. What had Father taught me? You’re smaller, so fight smarter. I fumbled around me, feeling for anything I could use, any weapon, anything at all. A rock. A stick. A…

  Cool metal. The dagger. I didn’t hesitate. I gripped it and thrust.

  Maurus jerked back and the tip of the blade glanced across the side of his neck. I’d missed. Skies Above, I missed.

  Blood beaded across the gash, then poured over in a steady crimson stream. He rocked back, crushing my thighs, and clapped a hand against the wound. Blood oozed from between his fingers. His eyes met mine, livid, monstrous.

  I stared defiantly back, dagger raised.

  A blood-curdling roar pierced the sky.

  Maurus’s head jerked up and a plume of yellow and red erupted overhead.

  Stifling, suffocating heat consumed us. Maurus screamed—a sound almost as horrific as Ray’s. He rolled and yanked my body over his.

  A flash of searing pain licked at my back and shoulders and the wrist I threw up to shield my face, like a thousand needles plunging into my flesh.

  The heat vanished.

  The ground shook as the beast slammed down nearby. Maurus shoved me off and scrambled away. The shoulder of his shirt has melted, revealing angry, black, blistered flesh down his shoulder and arm.

  I fell onto my side and everything about my back felt wrong. A bizarre mix of pain and numbness, heat and near-ice. Beads of gold dotted the backs of my hands and the sleeves of my charred shirt. My blood. Smoke rose from the smoldered and blackened area beneath and around me—it, too, splattered with molten gold.

  The wyvern stood only a few paces away. It sat back on huge haunches, its massive green-gold iridescent wings spread wider than a carriage and easily twice as tall as me.

  The wyvern’s massive head blotted out the sky. Smoke puffed from its nostrils. Vertical pupils fixed upon mine, narrowed and then dilated. Iridescent scales shimmered, a blend of gold and green in the setting sun’s orange glow.

  Those large, golden eyes consumed me, as if, for the very first time, I was seen wholly and completely. I was wanted. I was coveted.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the beauty, the horror, the magnificence.

  Ray skidded onto the grass beside me and looped an arm around mine, jerking me from my trance. Terror pulsed through my veins with the throbbing of my injuries. I scrambled with Ray away and across the bones of the feeding site—no longer markers of excitement but more like an omen that left me certain I’d feel the wyvern’s teeth at my back any moment.

  Horns of the King’s army bellow and crimson-clad guards on horseback pour into the clearing.

  Sir William Gallant burst from the edge of the forest, mounted on his huge white warhorse. Tall and proud, a sword in his hand. The King’s High Guard. My father, my hero, my savior. Unafraid of wyverns. Unafraid of anything.

  “Father,” I croaked. Newfound strength plumed through my veins, even as the carcass bones cracked and snapped beneath my scramble towards him.

  Father’s gaze landed on me. His determined, stoic frown fell away. His lips parted and formed my name, “Aubrey.”

  His shattered expression hurt more than all my wounds.

  Then his face shuttered. The mask of the King’s High Guard returned. “Get my daughter and the children to safety. I will deal with the Wyvern.” His words were clear, crisp, absolute.

  His horse galloped past me and at the incline’s edge, it reared, silhouetting Father and his raised sword with the saffron rays of the falling sun. My father’s battle cry met the wyvern’s roar.

  A guard hoisted me onto the back of a horse as my body began to shake. My breaths came in staggered gasps as the shock set in. Ray was pulled onto the back of another horse and he stared at his hand, at the healed, pink stub where his littlest finger should be.

  The pivot of the guard’s horse turned me away. Away from Ray’s impossible hand, away from the piercing wyvern roar and the flash of wyvernfire.

  Father died a warrior’s death, they later say, defending his country.

  I know the truth.

  He died because of me.