Dragons Reborn Read Free

descend upon your Cured Temple. Your head is next."

 
 
CADE

    He knelt in the chamber, dizzy, as
the world collapsed around him.
    High Priestess
Beatrix, sovereign of the Cured Temple, ruler of the Commonwealth, tyrant and
monster . . . my mother. Cade's eyes stung, and he could barely breathe. Mercy
Deus, Paladin of the Spirit, the slayer of thousands . . . my sister.
    He stared up, eyes
burning. He knelt in the Holy of Holies, the center of the Cured Temple and the
heart of its faith. Marble tiles spread across the floor, and the round walls
soared hundreds of feet tall, formed of white bricks. It felt like kneeling in
the alabaster well of a god. In the center of this chamber, like a bone inside
a hollow limb, soared King's Column, the most ancient artifact of Requiem, the
pillar King Aeternum himself had raised thousands of years ago.
    Standing above him were
those who would see this ancient column fall.
    High Priestess Beatrix
smiled thinly, and her hand reached out to smooth Cade's hair. Yet there was no
warmth to her pale blue eyes, no humanity to her face; it could have been a
face carved from the same marble of the column. She was as pale as the chamber
around her. Her robes were the purest white, her skin seemed bloodless, and her
hair was the color of dry bones.
    Beside her stood Mercy
Deus, her daughter and heiress to the temple. While her mother was a priestess,
Mercy had chosen the life of a paladin, a holy warrior of the Spirit. Rather
than robes, she wore armor of white steel plates, a tillvine blossom—sigil of
the Temple—engraved upon her breast. Like all paladins and priests, she shaved
the left side of her head. On the right side, her hair was white, bleached to
mimic the steel plates she wore. But unlike her mother, Mercy showed emotion in
her eyes; her blue eyes were full of shock and loathing.
    "What?" Mercy
whispered, turning toward her mother. She seemed barely able to push the words past
her lips. "This disease-ridden, pathetic weredragon . . . is my brother?"
    Beatrix nodded and
stroked Cade's cheek. Her eyes never left Cade, even as she spoke to Mercy. "Your
father stole him. He tried to hide him. But Cade's back now. He's back in our
family, and we will cure his disease. We will cure him now in the sight of King's
Column." The High Priestess turned toward Mercy. "Bring forth
tillvine. I will perform the purification myself."
    Those words shocked
Cade out of his paralysis. He rose to his feet, his chains clattering. He
glared at the High Priestess.
    "Enough." His
chest shook, but he managed to stare steadily into those cold blue eyes. "This
is madness. I've heard enough of your lies."
    "The truth stands
before you," Beatrix said. "Look at your sister. Her face is your
face."
    Cade turned to stare at
Mercy. She stared back, eyes narrowed, lips tight. Cade tried to ignore her
bleached hair, the anger in her eyes, to focus on her face alone . . . and he
saw his face.
    "Oh stars of
Requiem," he whispered.
    Beatrix nodded. "You
are my son, Cade. You have a birthmark, shaped as a bean, on the inside of your
left thigh, do you not? You have a little scar on your head, hidden under your
hair, right above your ear. How else would I know, if I had not held you as a
babe, nursed you, and—"
    "Enough,"
Cade said again. He balled his hands into fists. His voice shook. "Maybe
you're right. Maybe you were my mother. Maybe this was my family." His
eyes burned and his knees shook. "That doesn't matter. None of it does.
Derin and Tisha raised me. They were those who loved me, whom I loved." He
spun toward Mercy. "And you murdered them, Mercy." He turned back
toward Beatrix. "And you ordered them murdered, no doubt, like the countless
others you killed, all those who refused the purification. I refuse it too."
He raised his chin and forced himself to keep speaking, though his voice shook.
"You're going to have to murder me too then. Your own son."
    Beatrix's face changed.
It was a subtle change—a