Chapter 18
Eighteen
Koressis Eyrie, my father’s seat, the throne of Akalla, seemed to rise from the lake like a finger pointing to the heavens.
It was singular among eyries; it was a tower, built from the ground up by dragon claws and dragonblood hands, unlike the natural mountains and caverns chosen by Ascendants.
The eyrie was a gift from Larivor and Naimah, a symbol of their Law across the land, and the home of their son Isandoral—the sole true dragon in Akalla who was not an Ascendant, and had never created a House from his own blood.
Whoever won by right of might would need to ask his blessing. It was said that those whom Isandoral refused to bless led cursed reigns…but that was a worry for another day.
Because the eyrie itself was not where the First Claim would be made. None of us would step foot into Koressis itself until the right of might had been settled, whether by war or not.
No, the First Claim would take place in the Circle.
The island Koressis was built upon was part of a small chain; at the end of the archipelago was a small, almost perfectly circular island.
It had been paved with pale rock that gleamed like moonstone, an open atrium under the sun. It was ‘small’ in the sense that it was a mere afterthought compared to the glory of the royal eyrie itself; a hundred dragons could easily fit on its stones with room to spare.
It was there that the Houses would meet, face to face. Where claims would be staked and Courts would be formed.
Where enemies would bare their swords, and we would respond in kind.
I forced myself to take a deep breath, willing the iron banded around my chest to break. I could face the Houses and declare my intent and my rights.
But…the Circle. The island itself was hardly a blot compared to the grandiosity of Koressis’s tower, but it was as integral to tradition as the royal eyrie itself.
When challenges were made by Houses, or dragonbloods forced to face Judgment, it was done in the Circle under Larivor’s eye, with the Drakkon and Dragonesse acting as arbiters of the Law.
I gritted my teeth, nauseated at the sight of that minuscule pearl of an island.
Four years ago, my father had stood there on those opaline stones, and he had declared my mother a murderer. He had sentenced me to exile.
Right there, on that very ground, he had washed his hands of his eldest daughter.
“Sera.” Rhylan’s hand landed heavily on my shoulder, making me jump. I could see Nasir so clearly, my mother pleading her innocence…and my father’s implacability. “It’s time.”
I looked up at him, taking some small comfort from the way his eyes flamed when he looked at me. I’d completely lost track of time, gazing at the lake and eyrie where everything had gone so wrong.
“I’m ready.”
But before we left, I pulled up the little perfume bottle on its chain, from its hiding place in my bodice. I uncorked it, breathing the scent of home in deep.
As long as I remembered Varyamar, I could do this.
I corked the bottle, tucking it back down between my breasts, keeping it safe and close.
White stone footbridges were laced like spiderwebs atop Koressis Lake, spanning from the shores to the eyrie’s island, and down to the Circle at the tip of the archipelago.
Already, from my vantage point on the hill, the bright colors of other dragonbloods moving along the bridges were as visible as beacons: the Great Houses, all of them descended from ancient Ascendants, the largest powers in Akalla.
Kirana, in a simple ebony dress, dripping with gold bangles and rings braided into her hair, adjusted one of my many braids and pushed in several more pins, each glittering as silver as the streaks in my black hair.
“Lovely,” she murmured. By now, I knew that she needed to do something with her hands when she was nervous; she fussed with the brooches, and finally brought out the black veil Jenra had sewn.
It draped over my head, as ephemeral as dusk; like a Bloodless bridal veil in reverse. Chips of quartz glittered at its edges, matching the sheer sparkle of my dress.
Together, Rhylan and I represented the canon of our Ascendants: obsidian and silver, both Houses combined to show our unity. Aela’s sword was heavy at my waist, but thanks to the thin elegance of the blade, it didn’t detract from Jenra’s hard work.
And Rhylan…he was a dark shadow towering over me, a shield between me and the other Houses, in perfectly fitting dark trousers and sleeves rolled up to expose his muscled forearms.
All of the dragons in attendance of the First Claim would come in clothes. Like many of the Laws laid down around an Interregnum and the Claims to be made, arriving in scales and skin would be tantamount to declaring that violence was imminent. Even centuries past, in the era of the last Interregnum, when Dragonesse Riona and her Drakkon Davmar had washed Akalla red with blood and seized the throne, they had followed these rules of conduct.
We would do no different. I supposed that in the worst case, Rhylan would shift regardless, Jenra’s efforts be damned. The clothes were nothing more than a declaration that we came in peace to extend the hand of alliance.
I took another breath, forcing calm into my mind, and took Rhylan’s arm. Kirana was a silent, nervous shadow on his left.
We descended from the pavilion to the footbridge, the last ones in the procession. It gave me time to put myself at peace, to take in the smell of sea salt and the honeysuckle that covered Koressis’s island, to look over the competition and our future allies…or enemies.
All of the Houses had followed the same rules of conduct we abided by, and had come dressed to show off their wealth. As we crossed the last few feet to the edge of the Circle, I took in the Houses who had arrived before us.
The House of Undying Light was one of the smallest delegations, besides our own. From the footbridge, I could see my aunt and uncle, Pyrae and Tashan, both clothed in white silk and ivory feathers in honor of their Ascendant, Emei. Pale gold scales glimmered on Pyrae’s cheeks and shoulders; their son, Cyran, had the same coloration. He was younger than myself by a few years, his arms crossed, looking bored as he stared across the Circle.
Beyond them stood the House of Lunar Tides. Elinor was there, at Doric’s side. She had never been a scion of her House, and now she wore the pale blue and pearls of the Lunar Tides, throwing her lot in with her mate’s House. Doric himself was dressed as simply as Rhylan, with no concessions to vanity.
Shadowed Stars…a delegation in dusky midnight blue and bronze, diamonds glittering like their namesake. Maristela stood in front of the large group, gripping Gaelin’s hand so tightly I could see the whiteness of her knuckles.
Behind her, the Lady of her House, Chantrelle, wore a sour look on her face. She had always conspired to mate bond Maristela to Rhylan, and even now I saw her eyes flicker to us—irritation as she gazed at Rhylan, and bitter curiosity as she took in my veiled form at his side.
But it was the Jade Leaves who surprised me. Unlike my own House, or Undying Light, the Jade Leaves had always been particularly prolific. I knew their Lady Tyria had eight sons, one of whom was mated to Loralei, and several daughters.
But Tyria stood alone.
Chin high, emerald scales gleaming against dark skin, she was doing the same thing I was: taking in each House, measuring whether they would become allies or if she’d have to kill them later. A hundred dark braids hung down her back, glimmering with tiny specks of peridot, and I watched as deep green claws flexed at her side.
Why was Tyria alone? I desperately wanted to speak to her, to know what my father had said in his last days alive to one of his few confidantes, but as Tyria’s gaze moved over us, she gave the tiniest shake of her head.
Relief welled in me. The rumors had been right about one thing, at least; Tyria would not make an immediate move to murder me. Perhaps she had her own questions.
But I did worry about the lack of family around her—and Loralei’s absence.
But, following Tyria’s movement, I glanced to the far side of the Circle. Slowly, not wanting to see, but needing to.
A ringing filled my ears as I took her in. Honey blonde waves falling over her shoulders to the small of her back, cheeks cut sharp as glass and shining with gilded scales, and eyes as black as night.
The hot taste of copper filled my mouth and I swallowed, knowing there was no blood and tasting it regardless.
The last time I had seen Yura, her teeth had been smeared with it. Those long nails had been clamped around my throat…or had they? I couldn’t remember.
I remembered screaming, the blood, the feeling of…of being hunted…
Now she stood like a goddess come to earth, shining in a dress of golden silk studded with coins, Tidas standing proudly at her side. He hadn’t changed much since the Training Grounds; I recognized his messy dark hair and steely eyes from across the Circle. Unlike Yura, he wore iron armor, his chin raised and eyes half-lidded as he watched his competition.
Rhylan and I took our places next to Tyria, and even under the veil I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Yura.
But even as I stared at my sister, wishing immediate death upon her, I realized something that I hadn’t practiced—something that sent ice crawling through my veins.
We all stood in silence, and yet I could see which dragons and draga were mate bonded.
It was in the way they were turned toward each other, the small tilts of the head, the flicker of an eye. I had seen Maristela and Gaelin at the wyvern outpost, I had known this would come…why hadn’t I practiced the tiny tells, rather than just focusing on trying to like Rhylan?
All around us, in the silence, a thousand words were being spoken at once.
With my heart pounding, I turned myself slightly towards Rhylan, giving him a peek of a glance under my eyelashes.
Thank Larivor he took the hint, tipping his head slightly towards me. Maybe it would be easier if I pretended we were actually speaking.
Well, we really fucked up, didn’t we? This should’ve been on the curriculum.
Of course there was no response, but it would’ve been such a relief if I could hear him tell me that we could get through this.
I brushed my hand against his, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach that was pure nerves. Across the Circle, Maristela leaned into Gaelin, ignoring the deepening frown on her mother’s face as she looked up at him, holding an inaudible conversation.
There were so few of us. That was what struck me as I looked around—the future of all of Akalla was to be decided by no more than eight Great Houses.
There was something disturbing in that, to know a few million lives hung at the mercy of so few—all of whom hated each other.
I swallowed my nervousness, pushing it aside.
The silence as the Houses gathered had lasted no longer than a minute, and I squeezed Rhylan’s hand harder, preparing for him to speak—
But it was Yura who stepped forward, the soft chime of her coin-dripping dress calling all attention to her. She held out her hands, head raised high.
“I am here to make the First Claim, as the only remaining child of Drakkon Nasir. I am Princess Yura of Gilded Skies, with my mate, Prince Tidas of Razored Cinders. We are the rightful heirs to Koressis Eyrie.” Her voice carried, smoky for a woman’s voice, but utterly self assured. “Ask yourself: can Akalla afford a war? My father left chaos and discord in his passing, but his mistakes can be amended. Make me your Dragonesse. Stand with us, and you will prevent unnecessary bloodshed. You cannot stand against us.”
She looked around the Circle, taking in the bullish set of Maristela’s jaw, the cold gazes of Elinor and Doric, and finally, Tyria’s contemptuous look.
She smiled the entire time. A small, secret smile, one that I had seen before. She had something hidden up her sleeve…
Then she looked at Rhylan, and those pitch-black eyes flickered to me. For the first time, uncertainty flickered on her face.
Chantrelle shifted in place across the Circle, as though she thought to shove her own daughter out of the way in her greed to take the throne. Pyrae leaned towards Tashan, clearly speaking mind to mind, and there was a ripple through the Lunar Tides.
Would Yura sway them? So many knew of her, hated her…surely they would not accept her.
Tyria made a small movement, and to my surprise, it was Rhylan who took a step into the Circle. He brought me with him, his arm looped around me, but I felt numb before all these eyes… a puppet in my own body.
My lungs wanted to lock up, but I couldn’t allow it, not now. Not when he needed me to stand fast at his side.
“Unfortunately, you speak lies without knowing,” Rhylan said easily. He did not scowl, but there was an iciness radiating from him as he gazed at Yura and Tidas. “You are not the only child of Drakkon Nasir.”
Yura went pale. I watched with some satisfaction as the blood drained from her face, but she had always mastered herself, my sister.
I pushed back the veil, finally seeing her face to face. Eye to eye.
I smiled at her, enjoying the slight play of emotion across her face—astonishment and anger, though she might look like a statue to anyone else.
“You all know me,” I said, a smile to match Yura’s stretching across my lips, though I couldn’t feel it past the numb terror. “I am Princess Serafina, true scion of the royal House of Silvered Embers, eldest daughter of the Drakkon Nasir, and mate of Prince Rhylan of Obsidian Flame. My mate is a scion of his House, eldest son of Anjali and Cratus, and student of the Drakkon. You all know us, and we hold the First Claim.”
Yura bared her teeth, and I imagined I still saw blood staining them. “Daughter of a convicted murderer. Your House is ashes and dust now, dear sister.”
Cords stood out in her throat, fists clenched at her sides. For the first time in my life, I had managed to make my sister lose her composure.
“The House of Obsidian Flame has forgiven Princess Serafina for any wrongdoing on the part of her House,” Rhylan said, his even tone cutting across Yura’s words. “And you know as well as we do that the Drakkon leaving no heir means the slate is wiped clean. My mate has reclaimed her House and lineage. I ask my allies to come to my aid.”
With that, he completely ignored Yura, looking across the Circle to Elinor and Doric. Both had looked as shocked as Yura, but from the looks of intense concentration on their faces, they were discussing developments.
Finally Doric stepped forward. “The House of Lunar Tides supports Prince Rhylan and Princess Serafina’s claim. We will join your Court.”
Chantrelle hissed at Elinor, who ignored her steadfastly, focused only on her mate. Elinor herself had gone rather pale, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they believed they were throwing in their lot with a sinking ship.
But I couldn’t believe that, or all would be lost. I had to believe that we were in the right.
Anything that kept Yura from the throne was the right choice.
Yura had regained control of herself. “Be that as it may, the House of Bloodied Talons supports my claim.”
She could have said nothing else that would feel like such a punch to the gut. Her gaze was focused over my shoulder, and I just barely managed to stop myself from whirling around. Instead, I glanced sedately, though my hand, wrapped in Rhylan’s, was clammy with sweat.
A new delegation was coming across the footbridges. Dragons in armor…and at their head, Kalros, his auburn hair glimmering under the sun.
As he stepped foot into the Circle, he sniffed the air, and his head unerringly turned in my direction. He gave me a rather wolfish grin, before striding to Yura with his entourage and taking up the place behind Tidas.
Yura smiled, back on familiar footing. “We have formed the Court of Brightfire, the Houses of Gilded Skies, Razored Cinders, and the Bloodied Talons combined. We have sent emissaries to the Wildlands. You may stand against us—” She nodded towards Elinor and Doric— “But you will not win. End this now before it goes any further. My sister will only lead you into war and death.”
She held out a hand towards Chantrelle. “Shadowed Stars, will you join me? Or will you die?”
From anyone else, the question may have seemed melodramatic, an empty threat.
But Yura…she meant every word.
Chantrelle’s gaze flickered between Yura and her own daughter, who had destroyed Shadowed Stars’ chances at the throne. “We will take your Court into consideration.”
Maristela bared her teeth at her mother, whispering harshly under her breath.
I wanted to say something, something to sway the right of might our way, but…
Kalros watched me. I felt the hunger in his gaze, and shivered. Rhylan slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer, shielding me against the dragon’s desire.
I felt sick as his gaze crawled over me. I should have known Yura would court the exiles; by the Laws of the Interregnum, he had the right to reform his House, just as I did.
But I had not courted him. I wouldn’t have been able to stomach Kalros becoming my ally, knowing what he had planned…and I wondered if that made me weak, placing my own emotions above necessity.
Yura gazed at Chantrelle, expressionless, then turned towards Tyria, who stood alone. “Will you join us or die?”
Tyria ignored Yura completely. Her pale green eyes were focused on Chantrelle, and she let out a rough, yet musical laugh. “You are a child,” she told Chantrelle. “Do you not see what is coming? And as for you…” She looked down her nose at Yura, smiling slightly. “You threaten me with death?”
My sister stared back. “If you stand against me, I will destroy your House. Only fealty will save you.”
Tyria’s smile widened, and she held out her arms. “You may try to destroy me…if you can make it through my sons.”
It was then that the first shadow fell on the Circle. Then another, and another.
Almost everyone looked up at once, all the dragons tensing as scales crept over their exposed skin.
Seven emerald-green dragons circled overhead, soaring over the Circle like vultures. They swooped out over the lake, rushing towards us, and I felt Rhylan push me back ever so slightly—
But Tyria’s sons surrounded her on the stones. Seven dragons, their hot amber eyes focused entirely on Yura and Tidas, and for a mere fraction of a second, uncertainty gleamed in my sister’s empty eyes.
“You may have my fealty over my dead body,” the Lady of Jade Leaves informed her. “But I do believe I will have yours first.”
Seven dragons…and no sign of Loralei. Where was the youngest of the Obsidian Flame? She was the linchpin upon which our hopes of an alliance with Jade Leaves rested.
Rhylan’s shoulders had not released their tension. His hand was clamped around mine like a vise, grinding my bones together.
Yura curled her lip, whirling towards our aunt and uncle. “Undying Light, will you join us?”
My heart was in my throat. We were evenly matched in right of might now; if Jade Leaves were to declare for us, we would have the stronger hand…
And if Undying Light went to Yura and Tidas, once more we would be locked in equal forces.
I despised my father for leaving us with this mess. It would be so much cleaner, so much simpler to kill my sister, rather than playing these silly games of declarations and counting the Houses in our Courts, but if he had just brought me home and named me his heir…there wouldn’t be a war threatening the Houses.
Aunt Pyrae and Uncle Tashan glanced between us, from sister to sister.
If they chose her…if they backed my vicious sister…it could be over now, before it had even started.
But Pyrae shook her head, nose wrinkling in a sneer. “We do not recognize the rights of bastards. No whore-spawn will sit the throne with our approval. We abstain.”