Chapter 27 #2
I’d always enjoyed the achingly romantic illustrations in the book, Tales of Enchantment from Avencia, especially the ones featuring the godborn with their mortal lovers.
As a child, I’d dreamed of wearing clothes like theirs, staring wistfully into the eyes of an immortal who’d chosen me over all the glittering beauties of his own court.
Now the stories felt more like punishment, a reminder that loves like that were not real.
After reading her favorite story, I shut the book. “Where’s Mama?” I asked.
Evie shifted, her arms drawing closer to her sides. “She’s out selling her scarves.”
“She never got a real job?” I scowled.
Evie stood up, touching her hair to ensure it still looked fine. “Your nobleman friend sends us plenty of money. Mama said she didn’t have to accept the typist position.”
“So she was offered a job? And she rejected it?”
Evie nodded. “And Mama decided to move me to Rochester instead of Whitehall, with the funds and all.”
“She what?” Rochester was almost as expensive as Cardan Lott, which meant they weren’t eating any better or living any more comfortably than before I’d left.
“Oh, don’t bark at me, Ari. With the money coming in, we can afford it.” She walked over in front of our only mirror, a small one hanging on the wall beside the bed. “One of the boys at Rochester is the son of the railroad tycoon.”
My arms lifted at my sides. “But you still live here, Evie.”
Mama had called me the dreamer for as long as I could remember, but her delusions about Evie’s prospects were the real threat.
Giving the girl false hope was a crime. She was pretty, to be sure, but there were rules when it came to marriages.
My heart sank a little, but I ignored it.
Even if I were accepted as a real dragon rider when everyone at Cardan Lott found out my heritage, my elevated rank wouldn’t affect Evie.
Smoothing out her skirt, she lifted her chin and peered at me in the mirror. “And you don’t anymore, Ari.”
My lungs collapsed. Right now, changing society didn’t sound as meaningful as protecting my little sister from the jaws of a hungry world. I set the book down and walked to Evie, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “I know,” I whispered. “But I still want to make sure you’re safe.”
She shrugged me off, a new thing. “Ari, I’m almost a grown woman. I’m fine.”
“It’s because you’re almost grown that you aren’t safe anymore.”
A huff escaped her lips. “You never let Bennett tell you no. Or Mama. You always just did what you wanted.”
The wind rattled the warped glass in our window, a familiar sound. Evie moved to start a fire in the dark hearth, and I stooped to help.
“I’m still your sister. Always your sister,” I said, handing her a log. “And I did listen to Bennett—about some things.” He’d taught me basic self-defense, and I was alive because of it.
“Bennett said he plagued you for years to join his gang, but you never would,” Evie said, letting me take over the task of starting a fire. She stood and peered out the window at the soot-streaked city.
I struck a match and held it under the kindling. “You’ve spoken to Bennett?”
“Yes. He’s been by a few times.”
A flicker of fear surged in my veins. “Why?”
Evie’s face lit up as she spoke of our older brother. To her, he was the only man in our family. She had no memories of Father. “He’s just checking on us.”
Busy with the fire, I didn’t press the matter. But Bennett only visited our apartment when he was short on cash, usually after a bad night at the gambling hall. He must have deduced money was coming in from somewhere while I was away at school.
Ender, help me. Don’t let me lose her, I prayed as I struck a match and laid it on the kindling.
The first half of the winter break passed with little excitement, other than a few shouting matches with my mother and increasingly heated arguments with Evie about how often she went out with her friends to the movie house or the plays. Spending money we should be saving.
Myth was content each time I checked on him, and our flights were the best part of my days.
Following Rush’s advice, I flew Myth mostly during the day.
A wild dragon, he reminded me, would hunt mostly at night, and as such the Hunt wouldn’t be watching the skies as much in the day.
Also on our side was the general assumption that only flameless dragons could bond.
Of course, the duke and his Empire knew the truth.
The day before Rending, Evie had been invited to attend a dance with this seventeen-year-old she worshipped from her school, and to my chagrin, Mama allowed it, not hearing a word of my protests.
The boy’s father was accompanying them, and my mother didn’t see a single problem with the whole ordeal.
A few minutes after Evie left, I slipped out of the apartment, coat pulled tight around my neck, and marched determinedly toward the tavern my brother frequented.
The place had fewer customers the night before the holiday, but I found Bennett smoking a cigarette and sipping whiskey in a booth near the back. He stood up when he saw me.
“Hello, Ari.”
“Evie is out with a boy.” I pointed toward the door. “Since you have nothing better to do with yourself tonight, drop in and check on her. She’s going to Archibald’s Dance Hall.”
Bennett’s eyes widened. “You always hated it when I followed you around.”
“She’s not me.”
He snorted. “That she is not.”
“Ben, she’s fourteen.”
He sighed. “All right, Ar.” He gathered up his wool hat and scarf and tossed back the rest of his drink. “Where are you off to?” he asked as we marched back toward the door.
“You don’t need to know. You’re going to watch Evie, not me.”
Braced to open the door for me, he paused.
“It’s already dark out. You should go home.
” When all I did was tilt my head sideways, he blew out a long breath.
“Fine. But if you go anywhere tonight, take your knives.” He reached for my arm.
“It would make me feel better, Ari, if you had everyone in the Serpents looking out for you.”
His hair was slicker, his brow harder than the last time I’d seen him.
But his clothes were no finer, and he looked tired.
He was still my brother, even though the man I once knew was morphing into the men I tried to avoid every time I walked these city streets.
A carriage trundled by, clopping hooves delaying my reply.
“I’m not joining your wretched gang. Just check on Evie, please. I’ll be fine.”
“Let me hail you a cab, at least?” he said, lifting his hand before I could protest. “There’s more gang activity this week than normal.”
“With what money, Bennett?”
He glared at me. “Look, you might think I’m no better than Pa, but I won’t leave you the way he left us. I’m not going to let my sister walk alone in this city tonight. If you won’t let me tail you, at least let me know you’re going to get wherever you’re going safely.”
A horse-drawn cart rolled up. Not as fancy as the automobiles, but safer than walking and clearly the best Bennett could afford.
I rode in silence, grateful for the relative safety of the cab, though we still traveled bottomside.
Bennett might have won a round or two, but he was still a bottomsider, and this was still Treston.
Until he could buy his way into the newly minted self-made upper class, like the merchants who owned the steel mill west of town, or the railroad tycoons Evie had mentioned, he’d be forced to use his foul money on things like horse-drawn carriages instead of the more expensive gas-powered ones.
I’d given the address of a library two blocks from the Covingtons’ townhouse, in case Bennett had been listening.
A short, brisk walk would take me where I needed to go.
The key in my pocket to Rush’s townhouse was as much a comfort as the knife I held as I hurried down the street, past the large stones that served as the foundation for Treston’s oldest library. The topside bridges arced overhead, their burning lamps like moons in the world above.
Myth was ready to fly when I arrived, but I told him it was too cold. He nudged my arm, then turned his nose aside and shot out a plume of sparks, straight into the air.
“Whoa, boy. Don’t do that.”
Plenty of people would be shooting fireworks tonight and tomorrow, but I didn’t want his flame to be part of that.
He flapped his wings, then flopped dramatically on his belly in the courtyard.
“You want me to go with you?”
He lifted his head.
With a smile and a sigh, I went for the saddle in the townhouse lair. I couldn’t very well tell him no. Flying with a rider at night would be safer for him anyway.
This time, Myth had more energy, more courage as he flew, darting between chimneys and looping around buildings. My arms and legs ached from holding me to the saddle, but the thrill was worth it.
“Okay, boy, I'm ready to try that again,” I told him as we sailed across the starlit sky.
A few clouds gathered from the north, promising snow.
Fingers slow from the cold, I grabbed hold of the handles as tightly as I could, squeezing him with my knees.
He dove straight down, tucking his wings until we were vertical.
My stomach somersaulted. Sensing my fear, Myth leveled out, arcing between buildings.
I held on tightly as we banked left, then right, before rising above the rooftops again, barely able to contain the panic stabbing through me with each move.
A small sensation seeped through my awareness, at first hard to detect. It was fighting against the fear and tension inside me—the feeling was an urge to relax.
“Is that you, boy?” I asked over the wind.
In response, Myth hummed low in his throat.
I knew he couldn’t talk to me, but he was telling me to relax, to trust him. In fact, I sensed he was almost desperate for it.
“Okay, boy. I trust you.”
I closed my eyes and let our bond guide me.
His muscles moved beneath me, his frame tilting this way and that.
I couldn’t see the buildings, but when my eyes were closed, distractions removed, I could feel what he wanted to do.
Left, higher, bank left again. My body was screaming at me to open my eyes, to see why we were hurtling through the air, but beneath my human instincts was an inexplicable hunger for the skies, and it steadied me, if I let it.
My mind flashed to the first night race course.
Eyes open once more, I scanned for an opening that led between bridges to the tunnels of bottomside.
It was too soon to practice, I told myself.
I needed more easy rides before we tried something like that.
But there was no way to get good enough to win without trying something risky.
Then I saw it. The imposing government building that marked part of the course. My lips quirked.
“Just a small part of it,” I told myself, whispering the words out loud. I tugged on the handle on the right side of Myth’s neck, and he banked. “That’s it.” I aimed him directly toward the small dark slit between bridges. Tonight and tomorrow, the streets were emptier than any day of the year.
“Now, do you trust me?” He let out a puff of steam that wafted back and warmed my face.
“Okay. Do you see that hole down there? That’s where the race goes.
We don’t have to try the lower course tonight.
We’ll just fly topside for now and practice the—” Before I could get the last word out, Myth dove.
He bulleted straight for the dark hole underneath the bridge. He’d run into something, certainly. Fewer people out and about didn’t mean none.
“Myth, no!” I shouted, but he'd already scythed into the dark tunnel that led bottomside.
There was a wide space up ahead where two streets intersected, and I knew that was where the dragons had their one chance to beat their wings to keep up their speed down here.
But it was a half-second chance to get it right.
I could see the claw marks in the cobblestones where past racers had scrambled on their feet after losing too much speed in the dive.
After leveling out, Myth pushed off the ground with one foot, spread his wings at the intersection, and flapped. As he rose, I ducked my head against his neck so I wouldn’t bust my forehead on the bricks above us.
At the next intersection, a woman shouted at us as we once again shot upward toward the night sky, Myth’s wings beating madly now for the swift rise.
We leveled out over the buildings, chimney smoke filling my lungs.
I sat up, hands moving from the handles to the spikes on his neck.
“Myth.” I coughed. “That was madness. That was amazing.”
Several people had seen us, shrieking in terror as we’d blasted past.
We arrived in the courtyard before my heart stopped racing. I untied my legs and slid down to the pavement, dropping onto one of the benches with an exhausted, excited sigh.
Somebody nearby cleared their throat. I jumped up and looked around the dimly lit space. Rush was wearing a tuxedo and sitting on the bench across the courtyard, his arms spread wide across the back, one ankle crossed over the other.
“Reeking ash, Ari, I was about to freeze.”