Nectar of War: The Song of Verity and Serenity (The Nectar of War Series Book 1)
Nectar of War: Part 3 – Chapter 47

LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II

REMIND ME OF YOUR name?” Amias asks Ezra as we eat morning meal in the courtyard.

Morano’s eyes widen as he looks at Amias, his cheek is full of food as water drips from his wet hair due to our previous swim in the East Lake.

Summer is creeping over our nation by the day, and the heat is already harsh. None of us dared to put our undershirts on after our swim.

“Ezra,” the messenger responds as he hands me the letter.

“Do not go just yet,” Amias says as Ezra begins to leave.

“Leave him be, Amias,” Roaner chuckles.

“Thank you, Ezra.” I nod to him, giving him leave from pestering Amias.

Morano chucks a piece of bread at Amias, and I smirk.

“You like him,” Amias grins. “He makes you nervous.”

“I am not nervous.” Morano shouts, but his cheeks are coated in red, and it is surely not from the growing heat.

“Morano, even the tan covering your skin cannot hide the heat of a blush on your face.” Roaner announces as he uses his spoon to crack into the top of his egg to dip bread into it.

“Not everyone can have a complexion as beautiful as mine,” Amias smirks, rubbing a hand over his dark brown skin. “It hides every blush.”

I laugh and pull at the seal on the letter Ezra brought.

“Laven gets as dark as you in the Summer.” Morano nods with a mouth full.

Laven,

I am staying at my father’s home in Nadrexi. I would like to speak with you soon, sometime today to be specific. If you are occupied and cannot meet me today, please send word before the sunsets.

Ivella

Everyone flinches as I rush from my chair.

“What in the Gods name is wrong with you?” Morano asks as he watches me tug my black undershirt over my head.

I move at a pace so rapid I messily tuck my shirt into my trousers and I do not give myself the short seconds it would take to tie my collar.

Amias picks up the letter and smirks. “I knew it would happen within due time.”

“I will return shortly.” I announce just before ascending.

NADREXI — SOUTHERN COURT OF QUAMFASI

This is the fastest I have ever ascended anywhere for a distance as far as Nadrexi. It was like a flash before my eyes, short seconds.

As much as I may hate what occurred in this house the last time I was here, this corner of heaven brings me as still as I could ever be.

The beautiful white and tan stone of the mansion now has ivy growing along its build, giving the home even more character than it already contains. The trees that line the perimeter of the home are brighter, greener than they were the last I was here.

Once I knock on the door, I hear Ivella’s feet padding against the wooden floors.

The locks on the door unlatch before she opens it.

She looks up at me. “That was fast.”

“I was not busy.”

“You look messy . . . and wet.” Ivella examines my damp hair and disheveled undershirt.

“And you look like you woke up not long ago.” I gesture to her night shift and dark blue robe. The rich silk slips down her shoulder and she quickly pulls it back up. “We went for a swim,” I say as she steps to the side allowing me entrance.

“You and your friend?” She pushes for clarification. “Did you bring her?” Ivella looks outside in search.

“No, me, Roaner, Amias, and Morano.” I elucidate. “I have not seen the woman you are thinking of since that day.”

She only shrugs and responds with a quiet hum.

“How long have you been here?”

“A while.” She moves away from me and to the fireplace where a black teapot boils.

Sitting down on the chaise, I continue to watch her venture through the home.

“How have you been?”

Another shrug. “I have been fine,” she simply responds as she makes tea at the wooden island in the open kitchen. There is a plethora of fruits and vegetables sitting in baskets along the island counter and multiple vials of some red sauce.

Leaning my elbows against my knees, I sit, waiting to see if she will tell me why she summoned me.

“Why am I here, Ivella?”

She pours the tea into a small vessel and sips the piping hot liquid.

“Did Stravan and Dyena invite you to Provas for a gathering?”

“Yes,” I answer—trying to stay patient. “Why am I here?”

“How are you coping with Lorsius’s return?”

“Speaking of Lorsius with you is not a conversation I crave to have.” After the words leave my mouth, I hear how rude it sounds, but she is quick to respond before I can correct myself.

“Right, I am sorry. I forgot that we only speak of the worst of my life and not yours.”

“That is not–no,” I begin to stammer. “That is not what I meant–”

“Then what else could you mean?” She interrupts, knowing I do not plan on explaining. “You never speak about yourself and it is odd, Laven. As someone who wants to know so much about someone else you surely do not reciprocate it.”

“I am trying,” I breathe.

“Where? Where are you trying? Who are you trying with? It is not with me. Every time I speak of what troubles you or I try to be there for you, with you, you push me away.”

Rapidly, I bounce my knee to avoid pacing, and she waits, when nothing is said, she speaks first. “You can leave now.”

“No,” I panic and my hands begin to shake, I contain them by standing and forcing them into my pockets. “You asked me here for more than a conversation about Lorsius. I do not speak of Lorsius with you because there is too much damage that he has done that involves both you, and me and I am begging for us to not relive it. So, no. I do not want to speak about him.”

What I say does not matter. I have already pissed her off.

She does not answer and swirls her tea in the vessel.

“Are you going to continue playing around with that cup of tea or are you going to speak to me?”

Her head snaps so hard in my direction her hair flings over her shoulder, knocking the blue silk from her shoulder again.

“You do not get to patronize me.” Her words sharply throw across the room. “You can leave now.” She is no longer offering my exit, she is demanding it.

“No, I would like some tea, if you could be so kind.”

“Kindly make it yourself in the company of your own home.”

I gape at her and quietly laugh while rubbing my hands over my face.

“Just talk to me, Ivella.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“You do not tell me anything about yourself, so you do not deserve to know anything going on within my mind.”

“Ivella, there is a lot of time it will take for me to tell you many things,” especially the shit clawing at me in my nightmares. “If you could spare me a few months I could tell you. But this does not mean you should not tell me what you feel.”

She still stands there, sipping on that fucking tea in her hands.

Fine.

I breach across the sitting room and toward the kitchen, she continues to ignore me. When I stand before her, I take the teacup from her hands.

“Since I cannot have my own, we shall share.” I take a long sip of the tea, draining half of it from the vessel.

“I do not share.” She glares.

I reach out and lift her chin with my finger. “And neither do I.”

Both of our eyes gaze upon each other, and within it, I so easily see how everything right in the world works just in the scape of her emerald eyes. Then, the danger as both our eyes drift downward to lips, and I hear the shredding of clothing and breaking of wooden bed posts.

“Last I heard, you are shared upon many.” She turns her head away from me and begins to cut the vegetables on the table.

I put the tea down and lean against the sturdy wooden table, bracing myself for whatever will be said next.

“No woman wants a man who is for every woman. It is ugly, and embarrassing.”

I laugh through the growing pain. “Believe me, I am the only one embarrassed.” As I touch the fabric of her robe, I am given a warning.

“And if you touch me again one of your fingers will end up in my stew tonight,” she continues to cut the potatoes. “And I do not think either of us want that.”

The sharp edge of the knife rapidly slices down and I mind myself.

“Other than Lorsius,” I divert the conversation because I do not think I can handle hearing any more of her distaste for my previous choices. “There are a few things I can tell you about myself.” She nods for me to continue. “My favorite meal is whatever it was you made the first night we had supper together. My biggest pet peeve is people who cannot chew with their mouth closed—the sound agitates me so deeply I want to slit their throat. I have a fear of falling but I still climb to the highest point of the Terseian Mountains to overcome my anxiety. If I could live the life of a minimalist I would, but my lifestyle does not call for that.” I stop to think up more rubbish about myself to blurt out.

To my surprise she asks me a question. “What is your favorite color?”

“You.”

Her eyes narrow and she puts down the knife. “You are dumb.”

“I am rather irate too.”

She smiles and I do as well.

“I also wanted to tell you to keep to safe places tonight since Lorsius has returned.” She says putting down the knife and looking up at me with large doe eyes. “His return could cause the anger of many.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you must promise me something.”

“Anything.” I simply respond.

“Whatever you do tonight, do not fight and have sanctuary.”

“Ivella,” I furrow my eyebrows. “You cannot beg me not to fight without an explanation.” What on earth is she getting at?

“You said you would promise me anything.”

I let go a breath. “Why? Please, just tell me that. What is happening tonight that would make you plead for me to not fight?”

“I cannot tell you, but if you promise me this I will give you whatever you want in return.”

“That is excessive to think I will want something in return. But you need to answer me this.” I grab her hand as she tries to busy herself once more. “Are you in danger? If you are, Ivella, I will not say this promise will be kept if your life is at stake.”

“I am not, I swear it.”

Watching her for a few moments, searching for any hint of a lie, I see none and leave it as is. Though she is incorrect if she thinks I will not have some watchful eye over her tonight. I am sure I can send Roaner here to see what has her out of sorts. If I must, I will return here tonight to be sure of her safety myself.

“Do you fear him?”

I do not need to mention his name for her to know it is Lorsius I speak of.

She plays with my fingers. “He should fear me.”

From a distance I hear slight cracking. It draws my attention upward, though as I look up, it is not the roof.

“What is that?” I ask as it carries on.

“What is what?”

“That cracking sound,” I glance around our surroundings. “Do you not hear it?”

She fills with shock and runs across the room and toward a corner. When I follow, she is leaning over a wicker basket with a black cushion. The closer I approach, I see a large, scaled egg.

I kneel next to her in amazement.

“Where did you get this from?”

“It was a gift from Stravan and Dyena.” Ivella mumbles.

She lifts the basket and carries it closer to the fire. As the hues of the fire gleam over the egg, I see the silver brindle that ignites within the black casing of the shell.

“Ivella, Dragon eggs have not been gifted in hundreds of years.” This is extraordinary.

A gift of life for giving life.

There is another quiet crack of the shell, and we watch it split down the middle in an uneven break. Then, one small head breaks free of the large shell.

She quietly gasps as the Dragon pushes free. “Laven, look.” She tugs me forward. “There is another behind him.”

My eyes widen as the other’s head slowly lifts through the shell.

They stare up at us, black as night with a white brindle over their bodies, and eyes blue as the sea with swirls of hazel encompassing the blue. I lean in farther as they hesitantly step out of the casing of the shell.

“Twins . . .”

“They look like you,” Ivella says in a daze.

Both of them scurry in her direction, clinging to her and hiding behind her robe that has fallen down her shoulders.

“They are so small compared to how large they will grow.” I observe their wings that are nearly transparent.

Within time, their wings will grow firmer. So sturdy even the greatest spear cannot penetrate them.

One with a white birthmark down its head peeks at me, it gives a quiet screech before hesitantly moving toward me.

Its tiny talons are sharp as it walks into the palm of my hand.

“He likes you.” A slight smile appears on her face. “Name him.”

“Me?” I ask.

She nods. “Name him.”

I aim to deny her again, but as the little Dragon looks up at me shaking out his wings a name for him comes to mind.

“Vaigon.”

“Your grandfather,” Ivella softly responds.

“My grandfather is one of most the amazing men I know, and I want to do right by him. It was not fair that Lorsius named a nation after him but did not create a nation that would uphold to his name. My grandfather, Vaigon, and grandmother, Reynai, are Orviantes. They are who my father got the white hair from, as well as the blue and hazel heterochrome eyes. Then, those genes passed on to me, but the white is only in streaks throughout my hair since my mother was a commoner.” I can see my grandfather so clearly as I stare into the orbs of the Dragon playing in my palm.

I look down at the other Dragon resting calmly in Ivella’s lap. “Is that a boy as well?” I ask.

She nods. “Vorzantu.” Ivella touches the fragile neck of the Dragon as he rests his head in her hand.

“What is Vorzantu?”

“The maiden name of my mother who raised my brother and I. Stelina Vorzantu.”

I wince as Vaigon sinks a little tooth into my finger. “I believe someone is hungry. And I do not think they will cooperate well with fruit and vegetables.” I say looking back at the abundance on the island counter.

“Oh,” Ivella stands, lifting Vorzantu with her. There is a black leather chest next to where the wicker basket with the egg was sitting.

When she opens the chest a form of mist flows out.

“What is in there?”

“Dyena sent a chest of ice with meat for them to eat when they hatch.”

“A chest of ice?”

The strong scent of blood forces outward and Vaigon clumsily flies from my hand and toward Ivella. He does not properly take flight and I just barely catch him as he falls to the floor.

“Here,” Ivella laughs. She hands me a glass bowl concealed with a wooden lid full of fresh meat. Immediately, Vaigon goes insane.

I give him a little cube of meat and he devours it, urging me for more as his head nudges my hand. I smile.

“Do you think you will be fine alone here with them?”

Having two newly birthed Dragons could contain a bit of havoc in this house for her.

I see the mounds of textbooks on the table behind me, but I also see the stress in her eyes from Summer Solstice still wearing her down.

“They will be more than enough company to keep me occupied.” She smiles looking down at them both as they feast from a bowl of raw meat.

“And if they become too much?”

“I will call on you if they do.”

The longer I watch the two tiny children, I begin to wonder.

“How many people know of you receiving them as a gift?”

“No one. Only us.”

“People would kill for ownership over a Dragon.”

“And I will kill them if they touch my children.” She simply declares.

Their mother.

“No one will harm them. They are not a property of ownership; they are little lives that grow to be even more intelligent than us. Why do you think it was Dyena’s children that found her in the Terseian Mountains? Just as a mother or father raises a Dragon, they develop a strong form of protection over their parents. They have a grave hatred for those who are enemies, and they will attack without a thought. A mother or father does not need to tell a Dragon of who their enemies are, they know and easily protect. They will grow to know these lands and they will have a fundamental understanding of defending it and guarding the people who reside. Any outsider who comes along wishing to take my peoples land again will wish they never did. I will allow them to burn armies to their graves and feast on those who threaten.”

Moving closer, I tug on her chin.

Those big, sad eyes stare upward.

“If anyone dares to take another thing from you, you will burn them with nothing less than vengeance.”

Fear clouds her eyes. “What if I get lost in my rage?”

“Then that is when I come in . . . from now and on, you will no longer ask for approval, you will take whatever it is you want and only ask for forgiveness.”

VAIGON CITADEL

When I walk into the palace, I ascend to my study where Roaner, Morano, Amias, and Phyv are waiting. Hua and Levora clearly hold agitation on their faces.

“What is wrong?”

“I believe you instilled enough fear into Lorsius.” Amias says. “And I do not mean the fear of leaving, you instilled the fear of overpowering him.”

“How do you mean?”

“He stripped you and may as well count us in on it,” Hua says through her clenched teeth. “Any legal matters within Vaigon no longer allows our say or input. From now on, we are to sit about like trophies to him. Small fillers in his lineage that have no say.”

“It may as well be as if we are just pretty royal faces roaming about the palace.” Morano’s anger coats the room.

Roaner stands. “Do not worry over this. He will be gone soon enough.”

“Now, Laven.” Morano says from the corner of the study. His hands are shaking as he stares at me. “Now is the time that you allow me to rip Lorsius to shreds.”

I should be concerned. I should feel something about us being stripped of our say in all of the important matters our nation goes through, but I feel nothing of the situation.

Roaner continues to look at me. “Trust me.” He says to only me.

And I do.