Chapter 217

Chapter 217: Chapter 217

What. The. Fuck.

Tempest’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

She couldn’t be hearing what she thought she was hearing.

"Don’t be ridiculous. I’m no one’s king." Dron huffed and tried to move away from the group, but Tempest caught hold of his arm.

Gushex turned in his direction. "I’m not a very smart man. I’ll be the first one to tell you that, but I know what I’ve been told and what the elders of my tribe forced me to read when I was but a young boy. Anyone who had the marks you are showing was killed because they were directly linked to the kings of the past. I don’t even know how you got them or how it has gone so long without anyone else noticing."

"They’ve been camouflaged," Aliq said, his voice in a state of wonder.

"Honestly, you all are being crazy. These marks mean nothing." Dron tried to dismiss what everyone was saying, but Tempest was starting to piece things together little by little. The problem was she didn’t have all the information.

"Who are these ancestors everyone keeps talking about?" Tempest asked, and this time she locked her eyes on Gerax. He was the resident scientist here. If anyone should know about the past, it should be him.

Gerax looked at Dron.

"No, I’m the one asking you, Gerax. Tell me." Tempest snapped in front of his face. She wasn’t going to allow him to keep this a secret, especially since she knew that Dron wouldn’t actually do anything to harm the man if he told her.

Gerax sighed. "It’s a very long story."

"In case you haven’t noticed, no one here has anywhere else to be. I think a history lesson would be great to pass the time." Tempest gave a forced smile.

Dron grumbled something under his breath before he walked back to where he had been originally and plopped down onto the crate, his entire body dejected.

"Okay, I can only tell you what I remember of the stories and documents I’ve read. I can’t tell you how true any of it is." Gerax shrugged his shoulders.

"Has the text changed at all? I mean, do you have text from that time that suggests someone should be lying?"

"No, that’s the problem. At least on Thraqe, there isn’t much text on the subject at all."

"Why is that?"

"Because the High Royals deemed them illegal to have. They burned all the text that they could find about the subject. Of course, there were a few that stuck around. I found two myself, but I don’t know how many others in Thraqe have the same information that I have."

"Really? Sounds like your High Royals were trying to hide something." Gushex snipped and leaned back against the wall of the ship he was standing next to.

"I agree," Aliq said.

"So tell me what you know. I’m sure Aliq and Gushex will add in any parts you miss out on." Tempest eyed both of the men, and they both shrugged in agreement.

"As you wish." Gerax nodded his head before he got more comfortable on the crate that he was sitting on. "It’s an old story, older than the High Royalss. Older than most of the histories we are taught as children. There are only fragments left now, and most Usteans believe those fragments are nothing more than stories."

"That’s because they are," Dron interrupted.

"No." Gerax shook his head. "She deserves to know, Dron. They all do. Besides, you know what they say about fables. There’s always some truth to it."

Dron groaned again, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to get out of Tempest hearing this story.

Gerax took a breath before he settled his gaze back on Tempest.

She was completely enraptured even before he started talking.

"The oldest stories say the first Usteans didn’t come from Ustea."

Tempest frowned. "Then where did they come from?" She had thoughts of aliens, like the green ones she saw on the TV as a child.

Gerax lifted his eyes toward the sky, and she gulped as if he were about to say that she was right. She waited for him to continue.

"The moons."

Tempest waited for him to laugh. She gasped a little when he didn’t.

"Our ancestors believed that the first of our people descended from the moons themselves. Not born beneath them. Not blessed by them. Descended from them. They were called the Lost People in the few surviving records because eventually we lost nearly everything about who they were. Their true name. Their language. Even the names of their first rulers are gone."

Gerax got up from his seat and stepped closer to Dron. This time he didn’t touch him. He merely pointed toward the ivory marks spreading across his skin.

"The markings were supposed to be proof of where they came from. Pieces of the moons left behind in their flesh. The ivory was said to be the surface of the moons, and the dark borders represented the darkness surrounding them. Every descendant carried some variation of those markings, but the purest bloodlines carried the ivory more prominently."

Tempest looked down at Dron’s hand.

Suddenly, the markings didn’t look like scars but the very surface of the moon. The markings themselves weren’t smooth like she’d originally thought, but they had a slight texture to them. If she looked hard and focused on just the markings, they did look like a picture of the moon. She began to feel the excitement build up in her.

"Tell me more." Tempest jerked her eyes up to Gerax, desperate to know more about these people that it seemed Dron was a direct descendant from.

"According to the stories, the first rulers were different from the High Royals we know now. They were incredibly strong, even compared to other alphas. They ruled absolutely, but they were expected to earn the right to do it. A king who demanded obedience was also expected to be the first one to stand between his people and danger. He ate after his people were fed. He fought before sending others into battle. If a settlement was attacked, the king was expected to be at its gates."

Tempest looked to Dron again. He looked away.

Gerax continued. "They were dominant. There’s no point pretending otherwise. The old kings were not gentle rulers. Their laws were strict, and punishment could be severe, but the stories describe them as just. Strength was supposed to exist for a reason. An alpha was stronger so he could protect those who weren’t. A ruler had more power because he carried more responsibility. At least, that is what the surviving texts claim." He shrugged.

"That doesn’t sound much like the High Royals," Tempest muttered.

"No," Gerax said in response. "It doesn’t."

Gerax shot Dron a glance before he continued.

"There was one thing the stories spoke about more than anything else. Their mates."

Tempest felt Dron stiffen beside her.

"The old bloodlines were said to form mate bonds more intensely than Usteans would do now if we were still forming mate bonds. Fated mates weren’t considered legends then. They were expected among ruling bloodlines. A king could command thousands of people, but his mate was the one person he could never rule through fear. She was his balance. His weakness and his greatest strength."

Dron muttered almost to himself, "His temptation."

Tempest’s heart squeezed in her chest.

Gerax continued. "The stories say there was nothing more dangerous than one of the old kings protecting his mate."

Tempest’s stomach tightened.

She already knew what Dron looked like when someone threatened her. She could believe that part without any hesitation.

"The last true king had one," Gerax said. "He had a fated mate."

Dron finally looked at him.

"At that point, there were already rival families gaining power. They weren’t among the lowest classes, but they were far beneath the ruling bloodline. They had what we would consider wealth. Soldiers. Influence. They wanted the throne, but they couldn’t defeat the king. Every attempt failed. He was stronger than them. His soldiers were loyal, and most of Ustea supported him."

"So they went after his weakness," Tempest whispered and dropped her head.

Gerax nodded. "His mate."

Tempest reached for Dron without thinking. His fingers immediately closed around hers.

"They killed her."

The words sat heavily between them.

"The surviving stories disagree about how. Some say she was poisoned. Others say she was taken and executed. One fragment claims she was killed in front of him. We will probably never know which version is true. What every version agrees upon is what happened afterward." Gerax looked directly at Dron before he continued. "The king lost his mind."

Tempest stopped breathing for a second. "No."

Gerax nodded. "He could still fight. Spirits above, according to the stories, he fought better than anyone. But he could no longer lead. He stopped sleeping. Stopped eating. He hunted everyone he believed had been involved in his mate’s death. Entire houses fell beneath him. Some stories say he wandered Ustea calling for his mate because he could still feel their bond even though she was gone."

Dron’s fingers tightened around Tempest’s.

"The people remained loyal to him," Gerax continued. "That was what the rival families underestimated. They believed killing his mate would make everyone abandon him. After all, what good was a king who couldn’t protect the dearest thing to his heart? Unfortunately for the rebels, it did the opposite. Most of the people rallied behind their king. They attacked the rebels. Soldiers, laborers, entire settlements fought for the old bloodline."

Tempest was confused. "Then how did they lose?"

"Because loyalty isn’t the same thing as leadership."

Gerax’s expression darkened.

"They had thousands willing to fight and no one capable of commanding them. Their king was consumed by grief. His commanders received conflicting orders or no orders at all. Settlements fought separately instead of together. The rebels were smaller, but they were organized. They attacked supplies. Isolated armies. Turned settlements against one another. They convinced frightened people that the king’s madness would destroy Ustea if he remained in power."

Tempest immediately thought about everything they had been doing since the attacks.

Bringing people together. Organizing them. Making them one force instead of scattered settlements. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

"What happened to the king?"

"No one knows. That is where the records end."

Tempest huffed. "That’s convenient."

"Very."

Gerax looked back toward Dron’s arms.

"What happened afterward is much clearer. The rival families took control and eventually became the bloodlines we now call the High Royals. Then they did what every new ruler terrified of the old one returning would do."

Tempest already knew. "They erased them."

Gerax nodded. "Anyone carrying ivory markings with dark borders was hunted. At first, they killed those who could prove direct descent from the old rulers. Then they killed distant relatives. Then anyone whose markings looked too similar. Infants were examined when they were born. Families hid their children. Some supposedly burned or cut their own skin to conceal the ivory."

Tempest’s stomach turned.

"Eventually, there weren’t enough left to hunt. Or so everyone believed."

Dron said nothing.

"The new rulers rewrote the meaning of the markings. Gold and silver became symbols of purity and power. The old ivory markings disappeared from official histories. Generations passed. Then more generations. Eventually, the Lost People became a story told by the old Usteans who remembered stories told to them by even older Usteans."

"And the black markings?" Tempest asked.

Gerax hesitated.

"Dron’s are the first I’ve ever seen like that. I think that was how they survived."

Tempest’s eyes widened.

Gerax cleared his throat, "From what I can gather, the ivory marble colorings didn’t disappear from Dron. They were hidden. Maybe its some form of evolution. It could have happened naturally over generations or someone found a way to conceal the bloodline, I don’t know. One thing is for certain, his markings were never a curse."

Tempest turned to Dron and smiled slightly, "I could’ve told you that."

His entire life. Every insult. Every person who had looked at him with disgust. Every time somoen had decided he was lesser because of the black marks on his skin. It had all been wrong.

Tempest turned back to the group as Gerax started talking again.

"The first time I pressed his markings and saw the ivory beneath them, I thought it was impossible. I didn’t say anything because one reaction wasn’t proof. But this is different. They are changing without pressure, and they are staying ivory."

Tempest shook her head, "But why now? He’s had these markings all of his life."

"The old stories say the markings of the ruling bloodline became brightest when the mate bond was complete. The moons gave them their strength, but their mate awakened it. The more you two bond the more his true markings appear."

Dron shook his head, "No."

"Dron..." Tempest started, but he cut her off.

"No, I’m no king."

"No," Aliq agreed, "Not because of the markings."

Dron turned his attention to him.

Aliq shrugged once. "Marks can tell us who your ancestors were. They can tell us what blood runs through you. They can tell us what was stolen from your family. But they can not make anyone follow you."

Dron nodded, "Exactly!"

Aliq stood and gestured with his hand to the ships following them, "You did this. Brought us all together. We followed you when your markings were black. No markings can make you a leader. It’s just who you are."