Woven of Lies

By Cristen Jennette

IN THE ASHES OF THEIR LOVE, VENGEANCE IS BORN.

 

Julia, eldest daughter of the dragon-training Capel family, and Ramone, eldest son of the dragon-hunting Montas family, were forced into marriage when their romance was discovered. After a deadly attack by a green dragon, Julia decides the best way to further protect the dragons is by learning to take their magic herself. But before she leaves on her journey, Julia learns the truth of Ramone's late-night outings.

 

While wrestling with the knowledge of her husband's actions, Julia finds new friends in unexpected places, comes to terms with her own future, and works to protect those unable to protect themselves.

 

After a life full of loss and failed dreams, Julia must learn to accept her true self to aid dragons of all kinds, including the shapeshifters.

 

Content Warnings: domestic violence, emotional abuse, adultery, mention of miscarriages, on page description of a miscarriage, murder, death, battles

• Language: English
• Publisher: DragonNook Publishing LLC
• Release date: Feb 19, 2025
• ISBN: 9798230529774

Book preview

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Chapter One

My palm hovers above the dragon’s nostrils. Easy, I whisper as a puff of smoke warms my hand. I grin, finding comfort in that heat while the chill descends on the world outside this barn. Three times my height and five times as long as she is tall, the blue-scaled Nadira presses her snout into my palm.

Julia, my husband hollers from the doorway of the dragon’s barn. Don’t stand so close to her. What if she bites your arm off?

I’m not new to this, Ramone, I say more snappishly than intended. Been training dragons since before I met you, my dear.

I look over my shoulder, frowning at how he’s lifting Maniin’s leg. The same size as Nadira, this burgundy-scaled dragon is more fierce and protective of her space, which led to her fighting with our newest acquisition, a young yellow we’ve yet to name.

The burgundy dragon growls low in her throat, huffing rings of smoke toward the sky. Once Ramone lets her leg down, he says, You haven’t clipped her wings yet.

Facing him with arms crossed, I nod. I didn’t think further damaging her body was the best way to help her heal. As agreed, she’s chained. They’re dragonfire forged and won’t let her go anywhere.

His too pale eyes stare into mine. The hint of anger I detect becomes a mocking smirk as he checks her chain and adds another. My family is better at controlling these beasts.

Returning my attention to Nadira and scratching at the tender unscaled spot beneath her jaw, I say, Give Maniin a few more days, and if she’s not walking on that leg, I’ll ask Mother to stop by.

Last I knew, your mother doesn’t have enough dragon’s flame to aid a beast’s recovery.

My focus remains on Nadira. If I look at Ramone, he’ll persuade me to do as he wishes. To him, they are a prize; to me, they are sentient beings. But our past together has shown me it is better to give in to his desires than to argue. Steeling my nerves, I continue scratching Nadira’s chin and say, She’ll need to remove our newest dragon’s flame soon and then can use his power to aid in Maniin’s recovery.

Warmth from Ramone’s palm emanates into my skin before he places his hand on my shoulder. His voice is a low whisper, the one that used to make my toes curl in my boots. What if you took the new dragon’s flame instead?

Eyes closed, I breathe deep and let my hands fall to my sides. I already tried. I can’t keep a hold of the flame for long enough to make it mine.

His hand tenses on my shoulder, but then he’s using both hands to massage the tense muscles in my upper back. A low moan slips from me, and he reaches for my chin, turning my head and kissing the edge of my lips. Ramone presses my back against his front. His hands roam down my side, chin resting on my shoulder and temple pressed into my cheek.

You’re so smart and beautiful. I’m sure you’ll find a way to keep a dragon’s flame for yourself someday soon.

As he presses his hands against my taut abdomen, my stomach sours. I haven’t told him about the child growing inside there yet. Not until I know for sure I can carry this one to full term.

Someday soon, I whisper and swallow thickly. What news from the great Montas family?

Those hands of his keep roaming, the talented fingers dipping lower and lower. All our conversations lately seem to get interrupted around this point. But I need to know. After the last family meeting, the Montases—and all our dragon tamers—remained for over an hour.

I’m being sent back into the North Mountains. Ramone’s voice is husky now. Another breed of dragon was spotted, and they want me to catch and tame it, see if it’s worth adding to our sales collection.

Or if it can aid our world in other ways, I murmur. There’s more to dragons than putting them on display.

There’s a brief pause in the movements of Ramone’s hands. He disapproves of how gentle my family, the Capels, are with these amazing creatures. Capel women use the dragon’s magic, true, but we offer the dragons homes and lives while the Montas family sees them as slaves. Several of our dragons no longer require being chained because I’ve trained them to stay and obey my commands. It’s one reason I enjoy when Ramone is away; I let the dragons roam freer than I would if he were here.

The difference in our families’ points of view reminds me of how Ramone and I fell in love. Nights spent escaping in and out of windows, climbing trellises, and gazing into each other’s eyes as though no other person in the world mattered.

Ramone’s love is a fiery furnace against my budding embers. And that furnace is currently red hot. He tugs my shirt from my pants.

I’m not leaving for another hour. He turns me toward him, swiftly removing my shirt as he does. Featherlight lips brush against mine. You are stunningly gorgeous today.

Hands holding my cheeks, he kisses me deeper, harder, his teeth practically pressing against mine.

I’ve known no other love but his, so I melt into him. We go through the usual motions, lying on a dirt-trodden pen, surrounded by chained dragons. My budding embers slowly flare to the surface. Pleasant shivers coat my skin, increasing and expanding until I’m begging him for more. It’s a distraction I didn’t know I needed after this morning’s meeting. Slicked with sweat and panting, we lie side by side. I prop myself on one elbow, tracing the divot in his chest leading down to his abdomen.

How long will you be away? I whisper.

Ramone grasps my hand, threading his fingers through mine and turning on his side to face me. As long as it takes to catch the creature.

A sly grin spreads across my face, and I pretend to be doing calculations in my head. So I’ll have to survive without you for at least oh . . . a week, then?

My husband’s grin turns wicked. It’s the smile that first made me seek after him, that made me want him to always smile at me like that. Success in a week, you think? He shakes his head and releases my hand to buffer the back of his head from the dirt floor. This new one we’re tracking seems as dangerous as that yellow hiding back there.

I give Ramone a light smack on his shoulder. The yellow isn’t dangerous. He’s scared and out of his element right now. You would be, too.

Julia, we’ve discussed this time and time again. He sits up and hunts for his pants, tugging them on quickly. You cannot train dragons to be kind. Aggression is in their bones. He stands and peers down at me. Stop trying to convince me otherwise.

Suddenly self-conscious, I swiftly replace my pants and gather my shirt from its crumpled heap to lie atop me. Stop being so stubborn, Ramone. I gesture at the two chained dragons—both have had their flame taken by my mother. She uses it to create magical goods forged by dragon’s fire and perform magic that, in my opinion, our world has become too reliant upon. When at full strength, Mother’s one of the best. Neither Nadira nor Maniin have ever attempted to harm me.

Ramone wads his shirt in one hand, pale eyes gaining the deep amber hue that indicates his rising frustration. This is an argument I’ve been battling for the five years we’ve been wed. The Montases catch and tame dragons; the Capels train them.

Our union was supposed to combine those methods, but after the first unchained dragon spewed fire at him, Ramone refused. More than that, he insisted every dragon we ever own must have their flame removed and always be chained. When dragon’s fire killed Roderigo, my husband’s best friend, on the first hunt Ramone led himself, he became even more vicious toward the creatures. Losing one’s best friend as Ramone did can change people.

Just because a dragon hasn’t harmed you, doesn’t mean they never will, Julia. Ramone’s temple-length black hair falls into his eyes, and he tucks it back. Mouth open to say something more, he shakes his head and dons his shirt. Have a pen ready for this new one. Rumors are it’s a green.

I gasp. No one has caught or tamed a green. My grandfather spotted many, drew their sketches, notated the power of their flame and of their magic in the wild. Greens are rare—

And someone saw one. Ramone marches toward his dragon-catching supplies. Ropes, several dragonfire-forged daggers, bow and arrows with heads made of the finest steel, and fireproofed wood. Holding one of those arrows, he points at Maniin and then Nadira. They are an investment. Not your friends. Treat them as such.

Though I try to stand and reach Ramone before he leaves, the thud of the barn door reverberates through the dragon’s training den. After a moment’s hesitation, I decide not to follow. He’ll be in a better mood after catching the green dragon.

Hands resting on my bare abdomen, pants unbuttoned but pulled back to where they rest snugly on my waist, I stare at my body, wondering how and when I can tell Ramone what’s happening inside me and questioning what life we would have led had we escaped our families.

But we didn’t escape. We got married.

I rearrange my clothes and return to my task, showing Nadira one hand motion after another. Sit, lie down, prance, wings out, wings in, and repeat. She obeys each, but my elation is short-lived. I’m worried my husband is angry enough to do something foolish.

I stare at the door through which he left. We promised to love each other for all eternity. Until the last star dies, our love shall last. Perhaps we should have promised not to place ourselves in harm’s way, too.

Tears prick my eyes, and I clench my fists. Without Ramone, I have little left. All I am is now tied to him and his family. All Father would offer is to keep the family name clean.

Nadira nudges her snout into my palm, and I lean against her neck. These creatures are not dangerous; they are kind. But people fear them.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I set to cleaning the training pen. As I sweep, I decide the next time Ramone goes hunting, I’ll tag along. After all, I do the training, so why not start the moment we find the creature?

Broom gripped tight, I stare into nothingness as my breaths turn shallow. Panic wells in my chest, an unwelcome friend I can never truly shake. I’ve never met a dragon in the wild before.

Nadira nudges my shoulder. The chain around her back ankle clinks against the ground as she stamps her feet. My breaths calm, fuller and deeper while listening to the beat of her feet, until the world is once more in focus.

Resting my forehead against Nadira’s rough scales, I shut my eyes. I have to tell him I’m pregnant. Again.

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Chapter Two

Thoughts and a sour stomach keep me awake all night. Each time I consider what message to send to Ramone, no words come to fruition. I have the urge to apologize, but I shouldn’t say sorry to him for wanting to protect these beautiful creatures.

With a frustrated sigh, I swing my legs over the bed’s edge. The motion sends my stomach into a tumble, and bile threatens to spew from me. I guzzle the nearby glass of water. During the last pregnancy, the sickness made me hopeful. This time, I choose to reserve such hope until I’m holding the baby in my arms.

Ringing the bell for the lone servant that remains in the estate during Ramone’s absences, I debate hunting for food while waiting for her arrival. Instead, I pen a quick message to Aleesa, my sister, asking her to visit tomorrow.

The thought of food convinces me to follow the servant to the front entryway, bid her safe travels, and meander to the basement kitchens. One cook remains, despite my orders for her to head home. She’s kneading dough and motions at the basket of day-old bread on the counter. With a murmur of thanks, I grab several pieces and return to the front room.

Extravagant and impressive, our home could become a museum someday. Rainbows of color adorn the tops of each wall with swaths of solid white beneath. It’s made almost entirely of stone. It is one thing I truly pride in my marriage to Ramone, this home and what I hope it may someday represent. One day I believe it will create a future where dragons and humans can coexist.

Vision trailing along the softly etched design in the front room, I wonder what would happen if we allowed the smaller dragons to roam free as we do other small pets. We may not fireproof our belongings from the dragons, but this house’s walls will not succumb to flame.

I’m not sure how long I daze off into the distance, uneaten bread lying atop my loose pajama pants, but soon another person is sitting next to me.

Aleesa scoots closer and nudges her shoulder against my arm. Unable to sleep with Ramone gone?

We had another argument. I glance at the moon through the wide front window. It’s still high in the night sky; dawn is a long way off. You got here quick.

I brought food, she says, followed by a sly, and drinks.

My gut twists. Time and time again I’ve been told what to eat and drink to carry a healthy baby to term, but how I wish I could down a drink right about now. Knees tucked into my chest, I study my younger and braver sister.

Bags of rice and seasoned meat in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other, Aleesa is the perfect likeness to our mother. I’ve always thought she has the better features—the strong cheekbones, the demanding posture, the right balance between the length of her legs and torso, with arms that don’t appear disproportionate to the rest of her body. I’m a gangly monkey in comparison, though family and friends have called me the subdued yet desirable beauty, while Aleesa is an entrancing flame.

She sets the supplies between us and squints at me. I wonder how haggard I look after how elusive sleep has been since I figured out I’m pregnant again.

How far along? She begins divvying out plates and deftly moves the bottle of wine behind her.

At least a month, I say, holding the plate she’s prepared for me. The seasonings smell divine, yet the thought of the rice kernels on my tongue makes me grimace. It’s a cruel thing about our bodies that when we need sustenance the most, we’re the pickiest about it.

Aleesa nods. Ramone’s reaction?

I busy myself with the first bite of food, forcing myself to swallow it down. My sister, the ever-patient woman of our family, waits expectantly.

The first swallow nearly makes me gag, but I whisper, He doesn’t know. Yet.

She tucks a lock of her fire-red hair behind an ear and meets my gaze. Why are you afraid to tell your husband you’re pregnant?

All moisture in my mouth evaporates, and I struggle to find a response. The fear is poignant. Ramone was ecstatic the first time, as was I. But after five pregnancies and no baby to fill this enormous house with laughter, I’m afraid the sixth time will be the same. Tears stream before I can stop them, tumbling down my cheeks and off my chin to drip into my plate of rice.

Aleesa sets the plate aside, wrapping me in a tight hug while sobs rack my body.

***

I’m not sure when sleep overtook the emotion, but when I wake, bacon is cooking.

Groggy and weak, I wrap the thick blanket around my shoulders and trudge into the kitchen.

Aleesa stands before the stove. Red hair done up in a messy bun that allows several wisps to frame her face, she’s dancing to some tune only she can hear. She smiles when she sees me and slides a plate across the counter. Eat up, sis.

I oblige. When the plate is half empty, I say, Ramone is hunting a green dragon.

My sister’s movements halt, and she whips her head toward me. No one has reported seeing a green dragon for over a year. Where is he hunting it?

The North Mountains. I lick the last of the bacon grease from my fingers. My guess is he’ll be back in a week.

Who went with him?

He didn’t say, especially since we argued about how we train the dragons again.

That oaf needs to get over himself, Aleesa says as she piles her plate with food. Your training methods have proved effective!

Ah, but the dragons still dislike him. I hunt the cabinets for a glass and fill it with grape juice. He reminded me that our dragons are an investment, not friends.

One of the bells hanging in the kitchen rings. The barn. My heartbeat spikes, and I race to my dragons.

The tension oozes from me when I enter. It’s simply Nadira knocking against her pen’s door. I’d usually have been out here for at least an hour with her. I survey the barn, looking for anything out of place. Nadira doesn’t react without reason. Frowning, I note how the rope for the bell is attached to Nadira’s door.

Aside from the rope, there’s also an overturned bucket of water. There’s barely a trickle of water creating a rivulet through the dirt. Dismissing the overturned bucket as the wind’s fault, I head to Nadira and rub her favored spot beneath her jaw. If she still had her fire, I’d be able to feel its heat there.

Was someone in here? Aleesa asks, nearly making me jump. I hadn’t heard her enter the barn behind me.

The wind knocked over a bucket.

Julia, my sister says in a low warning tone that makes me turn toward her, one hand resting on Nadira’s snout as I do. She gestures at the windows. They’re closed. There’s no way the wind did that.

Panic settles in my chest, and I freeze until Nadira’s snout nudges my cheek in the gentlest of motions. I lean against her face, grounding myself in the roughness of her scales against my soft skin.

I study each window, expecting something to jump from the shadows. But all that’s out there are trees with leaves of changing hues. No servants have arrived for their morning work yet, but in my exhaustion, I likely forgot to lock the barn door. Thankfully, the only keys to our dragons’ chains are locked in the cellar of this grandiose home.

Aleesa approaches but keeps her distance. She too has learned to train dragons, but her posture is tense and hesitant in a way that’s almost, but not quite, fearful. I’ll rearrange my schedule to stay with you today, at least until more servants arrive. She tucks each hand into her pants pockets. Ask some of them to stay tonight if Ramone isn’t back yet, okay?

I sigh. Sometimes being alone is reveling after all the demands that come with being part of one of the major dragon empire families. But I nod my agreement.

I’ll clean up breakfast. Aleesa tucks a wisp of red hair behind her ear. Ring that bell if you need anything.

Nodding, I let Nadira out of her pen and lead her to the trough of water and raw meat. While braiding my hair, my focus continuously snags on each window and settles on the main door. Its bar is not down. While Nadira eats, I inspect the door, but it provides no answers.

Wind whistles past the closed windows of the barn, snapping my attention to each. At one, I think I see the shadowed silhouette of a person, but when I blink, the shadow is gone.

After spending some time training Nadira, I head back inside. Aleesa sits on the chaise lounge in the living area, reading one of the many journals I’ve created detailing what my training methods have helped me learn.

She holds up the book so I can see the sketch of a green dragon I drew long ago. Its wings come to a sharp peak on either side of its robust belly. Scales follow a pattern, like a stone stairwell, each lodging with the other as they cover the creature’s entire body. A blast of fire spews from its mouth, sharp needle-like teeth dripping with blood. Its eyes are vacant, the one feature I’d not been able to get Ramone to remember after he lost this green dragon on that first hunt he led. In my mind, I imagine this dragon’s eyes are full of pain and longing, a desire to be welcomed rather than attacked.

Unlike other dragons whose flame is dependent upon their species’ magic, the greens are rumored to have flame regardless of its magical abilities. Those who’ve hunted greens swear the creature becomes invisible, which is how it evades them. But I wonder if the greens can shapeshift, meaning that shapeshifters still exist. Perhaps one day, once I’m able to join a hunt, I may be able to find proof of my theory.

I didn’t realize you’d drawn a green, she says. Based on your description, it might take Ramone longer than a week to actually catch it.

He’s gotten better at catching dragons, I say in a clipped tone as I sit next to her and take the journal. Running a finger along the sketch of its wings, following the veins and bones that are visible through its opaque leathery coverings, I add, A part of me wishes I could go with him on those hunts.

Aleesa sucks in a breath. Sometimes he kills them.

I know. I hand the journal back to her and unbraid my long, dark hair. But maybe their deaths could have been avoided if I were there to offer alternative methods?

Perhaps once the babe is old enough, you, Ramone, and the child can go on hunts together.

My smile is tight, and I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. Perhaps. Hair undone, I motion for her to flip the page where a quaint blue dragon with pale wings is depicted. There’s Nadira from when Ramone first brought her to me. She was so weak she didn’t even try to use her flame against Ramone.

Tracing the image of Nadira I’ve imprinted to paper, Aleesa smiles softly. Remember when we thought blue dragons would spit ice instead of fire? She chuckles at the memory of the tall tales we heard as children. That’d be logical, but no, it’s the black dragons that spew ice.

For a time, we reminisce. Most dragons spew fire, except black dragons spit ice and white dragons have no fire or magic of their own. Greens are a different beast. Their flame is a white-hot furnace that no woman has captured. Mother tried once and it nearly killed her.

The thought of Mother taking a dragon’s flame reminds me of Ramone’s words about my ability to take flame. If Ramone returns with a green dragon, will he expect me to accomplish the impossible?

What is it? Aleesa asks.

Ramone’s been encouraging me to learn how to take a dragon’s flame, but I haven’t been successful yet. I twirl the end of my hair around my finger. If I try to take a green’s flame— My swallow is harsh and does little to add moisture to my dry tongue.

Aleesa drops the book and takes both my hands. Promise me you won’t try anything else with magic until after the babe is born. No one knows if that has been the problem.

I nod and swallow again. Thank you, Aleesa, for always being here for me.

"You are one of the strongest women I know,