Highland Dragon (The Treasure of Paragon #6) - Genevieve Jack Page 0,64

landscape. Living trees held up the walls. Branches were woven together to create a roof.

Everywhere, the buzz of wings met her ears as fairies flew overhead. She’d join them if it weren’t for the cookies in her hands. She watched the others flying toward the gathering place and marveled at the way their gossamer wings caught the silver light of the rising moons.

“Do you miss flying?” Dianthe asked. “I can probably take that tray if you want to spread your wings.”

Aborella blinked rapidly at the unexpected kindness. “No. I’ll help you. It’s been a while since I tried. I’d rather experiment later, when and where there aren’t so many eyes.”

Dianthe nodded then resumed her way toward the gathering. “I’ve received word Sylas is coming back tonight.”

Aborella felt a chill run through her blood. She hadn’t seen Sylas since the night he and Dianthe had rescued her, but Dianthe had never actually confirmed what he’d been doing. He was a potential source of valuable information on the activities of the Defenders of the Goddess.

“I hope he accomplished what he set out to do,” Aborella said. And shares it with me.

“Tonight, after the festivities. I’ll tell him about your interest in joining the rebellion. If all goes well, we’ll have more to talk about tomorrow.”

Aborella nodded. This was what she’d wanted. So why was she relieved when Dianthe turned her soulful eyes from her and continued toward the festivities?

They arrived at the gathering, and she helped Dianthe arrange the cookies on the dessert table, then chose a log close to the fire. Someone offered her a roasted narwit on a stick. Happily, she accepted and bit through the crispy skin to the juicy meat underneath. Across the gathering place, a fairy band played a song with an upbeat rhythm while a storyteller relayed the tale of the witch queen of Darnuith.

As she listened though, she was confused. She’d never heard this version of the story, not even as a child when she lived in Everfield.

“They tell it differently in Paragon,” a deep voice said from beside her.

She raised her face to find Sylas standing over her, his chestnut hair neatly trimmed since the last she’d seen him. He’d also regained some of the bulk he’d lost during his stay in the Obsidian dungeon.

“You must be Sylas,” she said. “I’m Zinnia. Your wife has been caring for me, thank the Goddess. I don’t know what I’d have done without her.”

Sylas’s lips bent into a barely perceptible smile. “I know who you are.” He sat down beside her. He gestured toward the storyteller. “Are you familiar with the Paragonian version?”

She nodded her head. “The story goes that during the fourth century, in the time when Eleanor and Brynhoff first rose to power over Paragon and Dracor and Villania stepped down to serve on what was then the Council of Elders, an evil witch cast a spell over a Paragonian dragon. The witch used the dragon in her thrall to attack the kingdom. She murdered Dracor and Villania and the rest of the Council of Elders in cold blood before Brynhoff and the Obsidian Guard could subdue her. Brynhoff bravely battled the witch and dragon and won, protecting Paragon from their evil clutches and clearing the way for the future of the kingdom. Afterward, a law was passed forbidding relationships between dragons and witches and establishing the Highborn Court to replace the Council of Elders out of a desire to maintain a permanent peace in the five kingdoms.”

Sylas shook his head. “Sad, isn’t it? How far that story is from fact. They used to tell it here that way not so long ago, until they learned the truth.”

She narrowed her eyes on him. “What is the truth? I was trying to listen to the story, but now I’ve missed it.”

“Brynhoff was not the eldest of his siblings.”

Confusion wrinkled her brow. “Brynhoff had no siblings other than Eleanor.”

Sylas laughed. “What makes you think so? He actually had two brothers, one older and one younger. His elder brother was supposed to inherit the throne, but he couldn’t stomach spending time with Eleanor, whom he found cruel. Ruling by her side was a future he found distasteful. So he left Ouros centuries before his father’s time to step down.”

“Paragon,” she said. Ouros was no longer an acceptable name for their world.

“At the time that happened, our world was called Ouros.” Sylas rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It was only after the war that it was renamed after