Chapter 8
Eight
W e were deep in the mountains, and someone had carved the head of a dragon into the mountainside, shaping its eyes from dark stone that glimmered in the sunlight, its scales delicately painted with blue and silver that contrasted the green forest around it. The mouth was open, so large that Tallu’s head didn’t even brush the stalactites hanging like sharp fangs from the entrance to the cavern.
Turning around, I saw the spread of the Capital City below us in a valley between the mountains. Buildings and houses spread up into the crevices of low hills like water in reverse. On our journey from the north, I had only seen a glance of the city when our carriage had stopped briefly to give the electro mages a chance to rest.
Our route had taken us away from the city, up into the mountains behind the palace. From the ground, nothing quite gave the scale of the city. The Mountainside Palace looked like a second city from above, and I saw what Velethuil meant about it being a reflection of the Imperium. Staring down at it, it was a map of the Imperium in buildings and gardens.
“Prince Airón,” Sagam’s voice jostled me out of my thoughts.
“Yes.” I looked away, turning and following Tallu into the dragon. Inside, electric lights hidden behind rock formations lit the way.
This was a natural cavern. Other than the head outside, nothing had been carved inside the mountain. Tallu and a short woman waited for me. Her robes were even plainer than the ones the seamstress had tried to dress me in the day before.
A lack of makeup, except for dragon fangs painted on the corner of her lips, indicated she was one of the few remaining dragon monks.
She bowed to me, low, although missing the triangle of fingers indicating my higher position. “Prince Airón, Your Imperial Majesty Emperor Tallu, the soothsayer is ready for you.”
I bit my lip hard. I had so many questions, but now wasn’t the time to ask them. Tallu was still strange to me. Would he see my utter ignorance as interesting and attractive or an annoyance?
The monk walked confidently through the cavern, ducking her head to avoid rocks hanging too low, turning to the side when the passageway narrowed.
Only two of Tallu’s constant shadows followed us. The other two of the Emperor’s Dogs must have been left outside guarding us and the carriage.
Lights illuminated strange formations, some that hung like sheets, others that decorated the walls. Bumps and outcroppings sparkled, glittering crystals showing through the stone. A light had been placed behind a thin sheet of rock, showing the wavy lines and striations in the stone.
Water dripped audibly, echoing in the silence. Somewhere distant, I could hear a rush of an underground river, like I’d pressed my ear to Spoiled Brat’s chest after he’d come in from a long run on the tundra.
The narrow passageways echoed our breathing so that even a small gasp sounded loud. I didn’t dare say anything, even though all of my questions toppled on top of each other.
Our path became even tighter. Rocks scraped across my arms, the silken jacket and shirt not intended to take such brutal treatment. I adjusted the position of the rabbit skin pouch so that the egg was in front of me, protected by one of my hands.
The rush of water grew louder, echoing until it was thunder. The walls were soaked, wetting my sleeves and pants. Finally, we stepped out into a wide cavern, the ceiling so high up that I couldn’t even make it out. An underground river churned in front of us, splashing up onto the narrow ledge we stood on.
“There.” The monk pointed straight ahead at a circular island set in the middle of the river. She bowed low to us again, then stepped back against the wall.
Incredulously, I looked at the water in front of us. Even setting a foot into it would sweep us away, and that was assuming that the river was shallow. In the dark, the electric lights illuminated a seething mass of black, but they weren’t bright enough to do more than show its violence. I couldn’t tell if the river was only knee-high or above my head.
“We’re supposed to cross the river?” I looked at Emperor Tallu, but his face was entirely shadowed, and the pale gleam of his cheekbones reflected in the light. “Is dying due to drowning part of the prophecy? Once she has our lifeless bodies, the soothsayer will be able to tell us when we’re supposed to get married? ‘Ah, yes, he died with his mouth open, that means he should get married in the spring.’”
If I were still being trained by Yor?mu, she would have slapped my knuckles already.
Instead, Tallu turned to me, and I froze. In the dark, his russet eyes nearly glowed, as though the electricity he used for magic lived inside him, beat through his veins like blood. How much like his cousin Rute was he?
“There is a bridge.” His voice was quiet, but even over the pounding water, I could hear the amusement. “Unless you would prefer drowning.”
“I’m all in favor of not dying just to find out my wedding day. And I’ve heard that even in the Imperium, there are strict rules against necrophilia.”
Tallu turned away, his shoulders jerking for a moment, and I hoped it was with laughter and not annoyance. Then he stepped forward, walking on air above the churning water.
I narrowed my eyes, still unable to see the bridge he had talked about. He kept walking, his feet sure as he seemed to walk on nothing more than prayer. Giving up, I knelt down, putting my hands out into empty space, pressing down where he had taken his first step.
There. My hand encountered something solid, cold, and slightly damp. The stone walkway was narrow, barely the width of my hips, and in the dim lighting of the cave, the dark rock was the same color as the dangerous river below.
Tallu reached the island and turned, looking at me. I could feel his eyes on me, see the sparkle of them in the darkness. It sent a shiver up my spine. These were not the eyes of a man. They were the eyes of a predator.
Well, I might not have participated in any hunting parties, but I could do this. I had trained to hunt prey much more dangerous than any my father had ever brought home on the back of Spoiled Brat.
I stepped forward, keeping one foot in front of the other as I walked, testing each step before I put my full weight down. Water splashed my ankles, wetting the path in front of me, making it slick and dangerous. Still, I kept my eyes forward, focused on Tallu.
At the end of the bridge, he reached out again, offering his hand as he had when I got out of the carriage. Scolding myself for my inclination to flinch away, I took his palm. I could do this. I could do all of it. My skin felt electrified, every hair standing on end.
It was just anxiety—I was sure it was just anxiety.
“Aren’t your bodyguards coming?” I asked.
Tallu shook his head, not even glancing across the dark bridge at the men on the other side.
“Down here,” he said, voice barely audible above the roar of water.
I squinted, trying to see exactly where Tallu was indicating, but the island was dark, darker than anywhere else in the caverns. No electric lights burned, and the ones on the cavern wall in the distance seemed to grow fainter the longer we stood in the darkness.
“Where?” I asked. “Because of all the skills they teach in the north, seeing in the dark is still limited to actual animals, not bestowed on those of us who wear their pelts.”
“Here.” Tallu tugged on my hand, and the part of me that had never been good at doing what I was told almost dug in my heels, but I was an assassin, not a donkey.
So I followed the emperor into the darkness. He climbed down the set of stairs carved into the slick stone.
And then the light was gone altogether. We were engulfed in darkness; only the thrum of water above our heads said we were still alive. The air cooled even further.
I was a northern boy; our summers were colder than southern winters, but something about the stagnant air—the chill that would be the same in summer, winter, or even if the mother of all whales ate the world she wore on her back—made the hair on my arms stand up.
Desperate for some sensory input, I raised my free hand to the wall of the staircase. My fingers brushed over intricate carvings, as though someone had taken the time to write a history on the walls.
We turned, then turned again, and light seeped in slowly, so soft that at first I was convinced I had gone mad, like a hunter left too long out on the tundra. The light wasn’t the pale white or yellow of electrical lamps but, instead, a soft blue, like the ocean glowing with plankton at night.
At the bottom of the stairs, Tallu stopped, pulling me up beside him. We were in a low cavern, the thrum of the water above our heads a heartbeat that I could feel in the walls’ vibrations. Water seeped down from the river above, creating massive stalactites and stalagmites as wide around as my arms.
But unlike the rock above, everything in the cavern was illuminated. All of the rock formations shone from within. The walls were lit as though a bright bulb had been mounted behind them, and I could see something in the walls?—
I jerked back. There, a dragon’s skeleton curled in the wall , embedded in the rock itself. Another skeleton reared a few feet away, then a fourth. Everywhere along the walls, skeletons had been mounted. Squinting, I approached, raising my hand. No, mounted wasn’t the correct word.
The skeletons had been placed on the wall, and then over time, the water had seeped over them, leaving minerals behind until, over a thousand years, the skeletons became part of the walls.
“Incredible,” I murmured. Turning, I jumped. Tallu was standing too close, his broad shoulders and warm body a contrast to the chilly air around us.
It was as though he was creating heat, warming me even though the only point of contact was where we still gripped hands.
He stared down at my face, his eyes fixed on mine.
“Incredible,” he agreed.
“Emperor Tallu, you return.” The voice echoed through the chamber, seeming to come from every direction at once.
Tallu turned, dropping my hand. I flexed my stiff fingers before blinking rapidly, the breath in my chest hot and fast. Swallowing, I came up next to Tallu, squinting in the direction that he was looking. The soothsayer came into focus slowly. She had painted her skin the same color as the bioluminescence of the cave.
Sitting in the center of the room, she looked like just another rock formation. Even her eyes were the bright, glowing blue of the rest of the cavern. When she turned to look at me, it was like a physical blow. Her mouth spread wide, teeth dark and rotten.
“Here, come here, Northern Prince. Let me see you.” She gestured to one of the nearby rocks. All of them were flat, like sitting cushions, and I carefully picked my way across the room to her and sat.
She grabbed my face hard, pinching my cheeks and using her thumbs to push my lips back, exposing my teeth. Then she ran her hands over my arms, squeezing lightly.
“You chose a healthy one, Emperor Tallu. I’m sure he will serve you well.” Her glowing blue eyes were disconcerting, and they moved over me as though seeing something more, as though she was one of the blind beggars who used other senses to read the world around them.
“I am here for the date of our wedding,” Tallu said shortly.
Apparently, my future husband had no comment on whether or not I would be “good.” In this context, I frankly had no idea what that even meant. It wasn’t like I would be bearing his children.
The soothsayer sat back, releasing me from her grip. With an open hand, she gestured to the seat in front of her. His lips pulled slightly, just enough that I could see how unhappy he was at this turn of events.
Still, he sat, watching her. He didn’t even glance at me, so I pulled my gaze away from him, refocusing on the soothsayer in front of me.
“The date of your wedding.” She tilted her head, then reached down. Everything in the cave was blue, and somehow, I had missed that directly in front of her—no, surrounding her—was a shallow pool of water. She cupped the glowing liquid in her hands, bringing it to her lips. It flowed down her arms, as she spilled it into her mouth. The florescent liquid dribbled down her chin, soaking her thin robes.
When she blinked open her eyes, they blazed, the brightest thing in the entire cavern. They stared past both me and Tallu, looking into the distance. Then, her gaze sharpened on me, her eyes traveling over me until they rested near my hip, right where the dragon egg sat.
“In the days before the Imperium. In the days when kings were chosen by dragons and not by blood, this was where they nested. This was where the One Dragon settled, laying her eggs.” The soothsayer splashed her hands in the water, and some of the liquid splattered onto our clothes. I jerked back, but Tallu remained unmoving, his frown deepening the lines between his brows.
“Right here! Right here is where they nested. And right here is where King Wollu became the first emperor by crushing every last egg that remained. Right here is where the One Dragon came back to find her brood destroyed. Right here is where the One Dragon died at the emperor’s hand.” The soothsayer stared at me, her eyes glowing brighter and brighter until I had to wince away from the light. “It is dangerous to be a dragon in the Imperium.”
“It is,” Tallu said. “But neither of us are dragons. Our wedding should be scheduled for the new year, should it not?”
The soothsayer didn’t even look at him, repeating, “It is dangerous to be a dragon in the Imperium.”
“Or perhaps even next spring, to gain the benefit of the flowers and the hope that comes with the changing season,” Tallu continued.
My heart pounded in my chest. She had to know about the dragon egg. But why wasn’t she telling Tallu? Did her order still maintain loyalty to dragons, even in the Imperium, which made their existence illegal?
“Or perhaps a full year, to give Prince Airón a chance to adapt to court lifestyle, to learn all of our ways.” Tallu’s voice was even. He was offering merely suggestions, but in them, I could hear a warning.
“Perhaps. Perhaps a full year. Perhaps the six months until the new year. Perhaps a full cycle of the moon.” The soothsayer drew her fingers through the liquid, bringing them up to her lips and sucking the water from her fingertips. “No. You shall be married on the full moon, the coming full moon.”
“That is less than two weeks away.” Tallu shook his head. “The bones are telling you something else.”
His voice was forceful, insistent, and I realized in quick succession why we were here. Tallu was going to use the soothsayer as an excuse as to why our marriage would be delayed. The soothsayer was going to say we couldn’t be married for a year. But why?
I didn’t have enough pieces, even though I had a few fragments. The war was off until our marriage. Tallu had specifically requested me instead of my sister, even though logically, he would need an heir unless he wanted Rute to inherit.
Was he using me to postpone the war? Or was he postponing our wedding so that a consort of his—a female consort—would have time to get with child, thus giving him the royal heir he needed to secure his own position?
“Even your great-grandfather could not tell us what the bones said.” The soothsayer’s voice grew so loud that it echoed in the chamber. Around us, the bones in the walls moved. They spoke with her, an unsettling reality of skulls opening and closing their mouths in time with her words.
Impossible. It was impossible. The water or the air must be some sort of drug.
“It is too close to the full moon to properly prepare a ceremony.” Tallu stood, towering over the old woman.
“Do not dare to tell me what the bones say. Your line killed them, killed all of the dragons. And all we have left is a scrap of their magic.” The soothsayer stood, cupping more water in her hands. It dripped through the gaps between her fingers. “Would you try it, Prince Tallu turned Emperor with his father’s murder? Will you drink it and see what I see?”
Tallu stiffened, then shook his head. “We will marry at the full moon.”
The soothsayer nodded, then collapsed down on her low stone seat. She swayed for a second before tilting over. I jerked forward, catching her head before it hit the water in front of her. For a moment, the only sound was Tallu’s harsh breathing, and I carefully adjusted my grip to settle the soothsayer on solid ground.
Her eyes were closed, face relaxed. She began to snore. Slowly, I eased my hands away when I was sure she wasn’t going to roll into the water. My hands came away covered in the glowing substance. I ineffectively wiped it on my coat, doing nothing more than smearing it over the fabric without removing it from my skin.
“If we had had this liquid in the north, my sister’s pranks would have been considerably worse. I cannot imagine what she could have done with it.” I looked up, but Tallu had turned his back, staring at one of the dragon skeletons embedded in the wall.
“You are emperor,” I said, feeling as though I was reminding him of something he already knew. “You are not bound to whatever this old woman says.”
If he wanted to run out the clock, I was happy to have the extra time to foment rebellion in his kingdom. I tried not to imagine him with a consort, him with a woman whose skin gleamed like silver or pearl. Him, holding a son who looked identical to him.
It would be foolish to feel anything about that.
“She isn’t wrong. My great-grandfather crushed the last of the One Dragon’s eggs here. He slew her when she came to check on the clutch of eggs. And when he tried to kill off the last soothsayer, guarded by her monks, he couldn’t. He drank the water and saw that if he killed the soothsayer or the monks, the Imperium would fall.” Tallu bent low, cupping some of the liquid in his hand, considering it. “We marry in two weeks.”