Chapter 29
They flew through most of the night, stopping to sleep for a few hours along the coast before heading across the ocean.
In the morning, a soft mist fell, the sky a hazy gray, but it wasn’t enough to truly dampen them or make the journey unpleasant.
That was good since Syla was down to one set of clothing, due to the unexpected incineration of her other garments.
She wished she had something luxurious and regal to arrive home in, not rumpled travel clothes that smelled of sweat, but at least she wasn’t naked.
And she didn’t let her bedraggled state keep her from mulling while they flew.
By the time Castle Island came into view on the horizon, Syla had a few dozen ideas about how to get the shielder components back. She would find a way.
As if he could guess her thoughts, Fel patted her on the shoulder.
Despite Wreylith’s suggestion that he go with Igliana, he’d ridden back with Syla, saying he would be ready in case anyone presumed to attack when they arrived.
When Syla recalled the events around her departure, she deemed that possible but thought her new dragon ally would deter overt attacks.
More subtle ones… like assassins creeping into her bedroom in the night?
She shivered at the thought. Threats like that were more likely.
And unless Wreylith slept on the roof of the castle, they weren’t something the dragon could help her with.
I will not be able to enter the barrier, Igliana pointed out. I am not bonded to my rider.
Maybe you should consider it. Across the way, Syla had learned that she could now speak telepathically with the dragons, whether they instigated the communication or not.
She didn’t know how great of a distance she would be able to do it across, but it was easy to reach out to Igliana, who flew to the side of Wreylith. Teyla would be ecstatic.
That’s a big decision, the orange dragon said. I would have to ask my parents.
Teyla wore a wistful expression.
In the sea below, a familiar whaling ship as well as a couple of military ships were approaching Castle Island. The whaling ship wasn’t under attack, but it was sailing at a wary distance from the war vessels, even though they were both angling for Sky Torn Harbor.
Drop Teyla there, please, Igliana. Syla waved toward the whaling ship. We’ll find a way to get your portion of the livestock reward out to you.
A single sheep, Wreylith said. A small one.
You’re a generous dragon, Syla told her.
I worked up hunger during my… during the adventure.
Agrevlari was that engaging, was he?
Certainly not.
I did notice that your joining lasted longer than mine, and Vorik tends to have… stamina.
Humans are puny. Dragons have far greater stamina.
That must be true. We were lucky that rock formation didn’t collapse on us.
Yes. Did Wreylith sound slightly smug? Maybe that encounter hadn’t been as unpleasant as she’d claimed. It was reinforced by the magic of the gods.
And that’s the only reason it didn’t collapse under your vigor?
Yes.
Syla patted the dragon, wishing they could keep flying and bantering all day. She didn’t want to deal with the mess at home.
The crew of the whaling ship had spotted the dragons and was rushing to the cannons and grabbing crossbows, but Captain Radmarik stepped out of the wheelhouse. He recognized them and ordered his men to stand down.
Syla had only intended to drop off Teyla, assuming it would be more dramatic if she herself arrived on the back of a dragon, but a second person walked out of the wheelhouse, and she blinked. It was Chieftess Atilya, her gray hair down and stirring in the sea breeze.
Will you land for a moment, please, Wreylith?
The red dragon did so, perching atop the wheelhouse, where a tarp covered the hole that the dragons had made earlier in the week. As she’d done before, Igliana alighted on the harpoon launcher in the back, letting Teyla climb off with her pack stuffed with items she’d gathered from the laboratory.
“Morning, Princess,” Radmarik drawled as Atilya came to stand beside him. “Or should we say Queen?”
He glanced at his mate.
“We’re betting on that.” Atilya nodded toward Syla and Wreylith, not appearing surprised by the new tattoo on Syla’s hand.
“You’ve bonded with a great wild dragon, something few have ever done.
After our sour clash with the Sixteen Talons, we’re ready to more drastically cut our ties with them.
Should you need our assistance in getting your other island back or dealing with the stormers, you will have it. ”
“I… thank you,” Syla said when she realized this wasn’t a negotiation, that Atilya wasn’t asking for anything in return.
Atilya had to hope that her people would be allowed access to the islands one day, but that was reasonable. From the beginning, Syla had been willing to negotiate with them. If only the stormers, the tribal leaders and their generals, were more reasonable.
“I trust you won’t help Captain Vorik sneak away from us again though,” Atilya added, her tone dry.
“He knew you were trying to drug him and was never unconscious. He would have sneaked away on his own.”
“Oh? He may be brighter than I suspected. His brother has always overshadowed him, and he tends to be irreverent and insouciant, so one doesn’t get a sense of a mastermind.”
Syla almost said that Vorik wasn’t a mastermind, but he’d just gotten the best of her. Even if she blamed herself for that, he’d placed himself in a position where he could win the day.
“He’s not dull,” she decided on for an answer.
“No.”
“I suggest you make a grand appearance at your castle—and tell your people not to attack Radmarik again. He’s a simple whaler, nothing more.”
“That’s right,” Radmarik said with an agreeable wink.
“I will tell them.” Even if they hadn’t been aboard, Atilya promising an alliance, Syla would have done her best to protect the ship. Her cousin was on it, now, after all.
Wreylith bunched her powerful muscles and sprang into the air, turning for the harbor.
“I’m nervous, Fel,” Syla said as they flew through the barrier and toward the capital, the mist not enough to keep people indoors.
Bangs and thuds sounded as repairs went on near the docks, in the city, and also in the castle.
The flag of her family, a quarter-moon on a starry blue background, flapped in the breeze.
That didn’t entirely assure her that General Dolok or another outsider hadn’t claimed the castle, but at least it hadn’t been ripped down and replaced with another family’s flag.
Unlike with the stormers, people weren’t trained to look up often here—thanks to the shield, their lives didn’t depend on it—so Wreylith was close to shore before anyone noticed her.
“Dragon!” someone cried, pointing up.
More shouts followed, calls for weapons or to get inside.
Syla waved, and Wreylith flew lower so people would be able to see her and Fel on the dragon’s back.
“That’s the princess!” a child called, fearless as she pointed. She was a little older than the girl who’d finagled healing for her mother but reminded Syla of her. “Princess Syla is riding the dragon.”
Instead of heading straight for the castle, Wreylith banked and flew around the city, staying low, showing everyone that Syla rode her.
I’m not sure if this is a good idea or not. Syla smiled and waved but also watched for potential enemies.
Your people must see you—and that you’ve earned a powerful new ally. They will wonder and be eager to hear tales of how this was done.
Shall I mention how I first proved myself to you with Vorik in the wheelhouse?
Certainly. Sexual prowess is not as great to achieve as battle prowess, but it signals the worthiness and power of a female.
I’ll be sure to have the Kingdom Journal write an article on it. Syla imagined Relvin’s reaction at being asked to print such a thing.
When people realized they weren’t in danger, they flooded the city streets, coming outside to look up at Syla and Wreylith. Many peered toward the harbor and beyond, probably wondering if the barrier had failed and more dragons were coming, but the misty sky was free of other winged beings.
“Princess Syla has tamed a dragon!” someone with a booming voice that traveled far claimed.
Tamed? Wreylith exhaled smoke. Really.
Don’t incinerate anyone, please. Claiming the throne will be easier with the support of the populace.
Hm. Wreylith did another lap of the city.
“Princess Syla!” a chant went up. “Princess Syla!”
The introvert in her wanted to shrink away from all the eyes turned in her direction, beg Wreylith to fly to the castle, and put an end to the show. But she needed the people to see her, didn’t she? And her new ally.
“Queen Syla!” the man with the booming voice called.
“She rides a dragon, just like Queen Erasbella did!” an older woman yelled.
Huh. Someone else who’d read the less public version of her great-great grandmother’s tale. Or maybe the woman was old enough that she’d been a girl when people who’d been alive to witness it had told stories.
“This is a good plan,” Fel said. “The dragon has a surprising flair for the dramatic.”
“I think dragons are all dramatic by nature.”
We cause awe in those we encounter, Wreylith stated.
“I won’t argue with that,” Fel muttered.
Wreylith turned for a final flight over the city and angled toward the bluff that held the castle.
Syla adjusted her spectacles and could make out Royal Protectors in blue uniforms lining the courtyard walls and standing atop the towers.
It looked like every soldier in the castle, if not the city, was up there.
Some of those men had fired at Wreylith before, when she’d first taken Syla from her room in the castle, but the dragon flew toward them without fear.
Two men in the black uniforms of the Royal Fleet appeared on the flat rooftop of an industrial building at the base of the bluff. They pointed crossbows toward Syla.