Chapter 2
Captain Vorik stood in the bow of the Regal Dragon, gripping the railing and keeping his face neutral as the craft sailed into Sky Torn Harbor, several Garden Kingdom military vessels escorting it.
Their crewmen kept glaring over while fondling their cannons.
Several were aimed directly at the wooden dragon figurehead in the bow of the dragon ship; another was cheekily targeting the curving tail that extended from the tafferel in the stern.
That was more an artistic feature than a tactical one, and its destruction would merely be symbolic, but the Kingdom soldiers probably wanted to humiliate as well as retaliate.
Vorik couldn’t blame them for longing to open fire, not when his people had invaded their capital so recently, delivering tremendous damage. And he’d been a part of that. Never had he believed he would be sent back to this island on a diplomatic mission.
A supposed diplomatic mission. That was what Vorik had been told it was, but he had his doubts. It hadn’t escaped his notice that a lot of talented troops from the Sixteen Talons and also the land-based Storm Guard had been brought along.
He gave his brother and superior officer, General Jhiton, a sidelong look, wondering why the two of them had been assigned to this mission. Their tribal leaders had plenty of talented troops capable of acting as bodyguards, should they worry about the locals attempting to capture or shoot them.
Griffon-fur cloak clasped back, hands gloved, face statue-hard, and short salt-and-pepper hair riffled by the sea breeze, General Jhiton stood beside Vorik, taking in everything as the ship approached a dock.
When Vorik had learned they would come along on this journey, his brother had been in the middle of planning the conquest of Harvest Island.
Their people had already flown in on dragons and plundered it, taking foodstuffs that could be stored in their caves for the winter, but Jhiton wanted to completely capture and hold the island, using it as a launching point for the rest of his military goals: taking over the entire Garden Kingdom.
“Mind if we stop at the market for fruits and berries on the way up to the castle?” Vorik asked lightly.
Jhiton gazed impassively at him, though the scar on his cheek made him look mean and hard even when his expression was bland.
“If we arrived with some, Princess Syla might bake a cobbler for us.” Though Vorik always maintained military decorum with his older brother in public, he wasn’t that worried about bringing out Jhiton’s mean hardness.
Yes, Jhiton could be pushed and was utterly deadly when angered, but he’d raised Vorik after their father’s death, and, despite pushing ruthlessly during training, Jhiton had never truly lost his temper with Vorik.
“A delicious cobbler. We’ve got nothing like their desserts back home. ”
“In the aftermath of our attack, I doubt baking is her priority.”
“Maybe she has people who bake for her now that she’s… Actually, I don’t quite know what she is. Did our intelligence say? Has it been confirmed that all her siblings were killed? Is she the queen now?”
Vorik didn’t know whether to hope for that for Syla’s sake or not.
During their time together, she hadn’t implied she wanted the position of kingdom ruler or felt qualified to take it, but she had been determined to help her people and fulfill her mission, and she’d done exactly that.
To his detriment and even embarrassment. He smiled ruefully.
Oh, his people didn’t know the details of how Vorik had let her seduce him and knock him out with those odious candles—thankfully, even Captain Lesva hadn’t been there to witness that—but having his dragon turn on Jhiton's during the battle…
Technically, it hadn’t been Vorik’s fault, and it wasn’t unheard of for dragons—who always had their own motivations, agendas, and grudges—to turn on each other, but Jhiton and Vorik were respected leaders among their people.
Having their dragons get into a skirmish, while their fellow officers, not to mention boatloads of gardeners, looked on…
had been egregious. Vorik wouldn’t have blamed his brother for demoting him or putting him in shackles for a few weeks.
Apparently, his black dragon, Ozlemar, had demoted Agrevlari among their internal ranks.
Since that battle, Agrevlari had been composing poetry, an ode to the beauty and magnificence of Wreylith’s horns, tails, and fangs. He didn’t seem full of regret.
“She is not queen,” Jhiton said after a long pause. He’d been observing ranks of gray-uniformed troops marching out onto the dock with swords and crossbows. “From what our spies have gathered, she is unlikely to become so.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that. If she wants the position, she could claim it.”
Jhiton's next look wasn’t condescending, but it was…
knowing. Even though Vorik had made his reports as brief as he could get away with, especially in regard to Syla, his brother was no dummy.
And Lesva had seen and guessed a lot more than Vorik would have wished.
Her reports, he’d learned, had been quite extensive and vitriol-filled.
Thankfully, she hadn’t been assigned to this mission.
“It’s her blood right,” Vorik felt compelled to explain. “And she’s determined. And wily.”
“Clearly. She learned quickly that she could win your loyalty by baking you a fruity dessert.”
“She doesn’t have my loyalty. I just like her.”
“Especially her boobs.”
“Those are nice. Gardener women are…” Vorik used his hands to sketch feminine curves in the air.
“Well fed.”
“The shields have permitted them less stressful lives and the ability to cultivate agriculture, but…” Vorik shrugged.
He didn’t want to defend the gardeners. His ancestors had originated on the same islands, but, after choosing to leave—or being forced into exile—they and their descendants had never been allowed to return.
Because of that policy, the Garden Kingdom had brought these attacks on itself.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll all have the option to be well-fed soon.
We’ve already packed away a lot of food for the winter. ”
“Yes.” Jhiton looked toward the sky. “Does the wild dragon Wreylith always come when the princess calls?”
“I don’t know.” Vorik had answered variations of the question before.
Since Wreylith, who’d shown up with allies as well as her sex appeal, had been pivotal in turning the tide in their battle with the Kingdom ships, Jhiton understandably wanted to know if they would have to deal with her again when around Syla.
“Is she in the area now?” Jhiton’s eyes narrowed, as if Wreylith showing up today might affect something.
“You’re as likely to know that as I.” Vorik waved toward the dragons flying high above. Their kind could sense each other from a much farther distance than even magically enhanced humans and would be the ones to relay if any enemies approached.
“I thought your love-smitten dragon might be keeping a close eye on her.”
“It doesn’t sound like she wants his eyes on her.”
“Odd.”
“He thinks so.”
Jhiton clasped his hands behind his back. “If you wish, speak to your princess when we arrive. Take her aside for a private talk. Or more. Whatever might allow you to draw out useful intelligence.”
“Are you ordering me to seduce her again?”
That wouldn’t work; Syla had never fallen for Vorik’s lies, and she would be suspicious of any overture he made toward her, especially when he was with his people.
That knowledge didn’t keep his groin from perking at the thought of another night with her.
Or even a hasty rendezvous while the diplomatic talks went on nearby.
An image of pulling her into a castle closet filled him with the desire to move islands to ensure such a moment happened.
“Spend your time together however you wish.” Jhiton tilted his palm toward the sky, toward Agrevlari and the other dragons flying above the translucent barrier.
“Perhaps you can convince her that our chiefs are more open to negotiating for the peace treaty that she suggested than they’ll let on.
If she were to offer to give our people half the islands in the Kingdom, maybe they would be open to it. ”
“We do have the military advantage right now,” Vorik said. “The Kingdom should be willing to offer something to get us out of their skies.”
Despite failing to obtain the Harvest Island shielder, the stormers had destroyed one of the ancient artifacts and killed many of the moon-marked royals with the ability to activate them. They’d also done a great deal of damage to the capital city.
“Yes,” Jhiton said. “In exchange, perhaps our chiefs would agree not to attack the other islands, to leave them for the Kingdom populace.”
“You want them all.”
Vorik watched his brother’s stony face and thought of the son he’d lost. Jebrosh.
Because of his hunger one winter, Jebrosh had taken a dangerous risk, and he’d fallen and died.
But that wasn’t all of the pain Jhiton had endured, thanks to the harsh environment they lived in.
Before Jebrosh, four other babes had been stillborn or lost during the pregnancy.
He’d never said he blamed the gardeners for that, or for his wife leaving him after Jebrosh’s death, but Vorik had heard Jhiton curse the mad storm god and the world he’d left.
“I do, but I am in charge only of the Sixteen Talons, not our people as a whole.” Jhiton tilted his head toward the tribal leaders who’d come out on deck, twelve black-clad stormer warriors flanking them.
Chieftess Shi lifted a finger toward Jhiton.
He inclined his head toward her and started that way.
“General?” Vorik asked.
Jhiton paused and looked back.
“If you don’t believe Princess Syla will be made queen, then why would it matter what I can convince her of?”
Jhiton smiled cryptically. “Don’t think too hard about this, Vorik.”