CHAPTER 7 - MEDRA
What was I doing? What was I doing? Silently, I kept chanting the words in my head as I led the way outside the Black Keep, trying to project as much confidence as I possibly could.
Outside the air was sharper. Cooler. The breeze had picked up and it bit against my skin as the entire Tribunal Panel and audience of highbloods followed me in a rustling tide of black robes and suspicious mutters.
My heart was pounding as I stepped out into the large cobblestone courtyard that lay in front of the Black Keep. Ahead of us lay the massive iron bridge that connected the island to the mainland and the city of Veilmar.
This had to work. It had to.
All summer, I’d kept my secret. Clung to this one hope. Kept a card tucked up my sleeve. A card I hadn’t dared to play until now.
Nyxaris? I called to him through our connection.
Silence.
Nyxaris? I tried again. Are you there?
There was no response. My heart was a drumbeat of panic in my chest. Around me the highbloods were stirring restlessly. Some were complaining of the cold and wanted to go back inside.
I tried again. Please. If you’re there, please answer me, O Great One. I beseech you. I felt like an idiot, but I had no choice.
“She’s bluffing,” I heard Lord Mortis declare loudly. “Look at her, just standing there. She’s making fools of us all. There’s nothing here. Let’s go back inside. I believe the rider’s fate is clear. We’ll put the matter to a vote.”
“No,” I exclaimed. “Please. Wait.”
Nyxaris, please, I thought desperately. Please don’t do this to me. I know my life is insignificant to you but I swear I’ll keep my word if you help me. I’ll do anything you want.
Still, nothing.
I swallowed hard, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes. Not even Theo’s.
Something in the air shifted.
A low, distant rumble arose, far above us. The sound grew louder with every passing second.
Murmurs went through the crowd.
The sounds became clearer and clearer until there was no mistaking what they were.
Beating wings.
Nyxaris’s voice rumbled through my mind, deep and sardonic. You sound desperate, little wingless one. Did you think I’d abandoned you?
I sucked in a sharp breath. You’re not funny. You know that?
His laughter was a growl in my head.
Why did I have to get the dragon with the sense of humor? Would the other three have been like this?
Oh, but I am. Look at you down there, surrounded by these tiny, pathetic creatures. He paused, as if considering. Perhaps I should make you all wait longer. Teach them proper humility.
No, I said quickly. Please.
Patience, young one. I have kept my promise. He gave another deep rumbling laugh, as rich and deep as his scales.
This time I could hear him from the ground. So could everyone else. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
I tilted my head back, searching the sky. There. Silhouetted against the gray clouds, a dark shadow moved, cutting through the air with incredible grace.
I wasn’t the only one who had spotted the dragon. Screams broke out around me. One highblood man swooned against his partner.
Nyxaris circled high overhead, as if showing off. Which he probably was. The dragon’s wings were so large they blotted out what little light pierced the overcast sky.
He flew low, swooping over us, his wings nearly brushing the tops of our heads. The highblood man who had been swooning crumpled to the cobblestones in a dead faint.
Some of the highbloods were backing up. I saw a few run back inside the Black Keep.
I am here. Satisfied? Nyxaris’s gruff voice said in my mind.
I didn’t answer. My throat was tight as I watched him descend. Slowly, deliberately, he spiraled lower until he’d landed on the bridge. Around me there were gasps of awe.
Showmanship, wingless one, the dragon purred shamelessly. It’s an art.
The bridge let out a worrisome groan.
My stomach clenched. Yes, you’re very impressive indeed. But is that thing going to hold your weight?
Nyxaris snorted his amusement. This bridge was built long before you were born. The ancestors of these people were not entirely incompetent.
So he’d done this before. Perhaps sat on that very bridge before. Who had his rider been then? It was hard to wrap my mind around how ancient he really was. I had so many questions. But I knew better than to ask.
“Look at that creature. The beast is an abomination,” Lord Mortis growled from behind me, breaking the spell. His voice was shaking–from rage or fear or both. “The girl and the monster should be destroyed. We’ve indulged in this farce long enough.”
I forced myself to ignore him, keeping my eyes on Nyxaris who crouched regally on the bridge, his molten gold eyes surveying the crowd with undisguised disdain.
I glanced around at the highbloods, wondering if they could read Nyxaris’s expression as well as I could.
Slowly, I turned to face them all, my back to the dragon.
“Here is your proof,” I announced. “Nyxaris listens to me. And if you let me, I can make him listen to all of you.”
Nyxaris made a loud snorting sound from behind me. In their dreams perhaps .
I winced, praying the highbloods wouldn’t notice.
But I didn’t have to worry. Around me the crowd broke into more murmurs of amazement.
Things seemed to be going well, until Lord Mortis stepped forward. His boots thudded heavily against the cobblestones as he moved to stand next to me.
“A parlor trick,” he sneered, his face twisting with contempt. “The beast is just that—a beast and nothing more. A mindless monster.”
Nyxaris gave a low rumbling growl deep in his throat, but Lord Mortis ignored him.
The highblood house leader turned to face the crowd. “This is not the momentous moment you all seem to believe it is. The beast will split us apart and bring ruin to our kind.”
This one tries my patience , Nyxaris complained.
Please, I begged silently. Just be patient. I’ll handle him.
I took a deep breath, trying to think of how I could deescalate the situation. Then I saw it—a glint of steel in the highblood’s hand. A dagger. My breath hitched. I glanced to the side and caught sight of Blake moving through the crowd, his gray eyes locked on Mortis. He’d seen it, too.
I froze, torn. Was the dagger meant for me? Or would Mortis really be stupid enough to attack a dragon? I was unarmed. Besides, I couldn’t make the first move even if I wanted to—not against a regent. It would be tantamount to suicide.
Mortis stopped at the edge of the bridge, glaring up at the black dragon.
He had balls, I’d give him that. Wisdom, however, perhaps not so much.
“ You are nothing but a relic,” he spat at Nyxaris. “And you —” He jabbed his dagger in my direction, making no pretense of hiding it now. I heard gasps go up from the crowd. “You are nothing more than this beast’s delusional herald.”
Move. Now.
Nyxaris’s command slammed into my mind. I shifted to dive away but before I could, an arm wrapped around me, and the world became a blur of motion.
I hit the ground hard, the weight of someone else beneath me. My heart thundered as I turned my head just in time to see Nyxaris unleash a torrent of flame.
Dragon fire wasn’t like ordinary fire.
It was an overwhelming force, beautiful and terrible in equal measure. The fire that roared out of Nyxaris’s open jaws was molten light, impossibly bright. Streaks of crimson and gold spiraled like living veins, radiating into the air like deadly ribbons.
Witnessing it was like staring into the heart of destruction. A reminder of why dragons had once ruled the skies—and why Viktor Drakharrow wanted control of one so badly.
I supposed we were lucky Nyxaris was an experienced dragon. Showing rather impressive restraint, he directed his flames straight down at Lord Mortis and not into the crowd as a whole.
Instantly, the highblood man was engulfed in the flames. His scream was sharp and brief, quickly drowned out by the crackling of burning flesh.
When the flames died out moments later, their fuel source had been utterly obliterated. Only ash and char remained of the man who had so arrogantly dared to approach a dragon.
I felt the body beneath me shift and quickly looked down.
Kage Tanaka’s dark eyes stared up at me. There was something to be said for vampire speed.
“You’re safe,” he announced, so matter-of-factly that it almost felt dismissive. As if he went around rescuing people from dragon fire every day.
Shakily, I pushed myself off him, my legs trembling as I turned to face Nyxaris.
The dragons’ gold eyes were fixed on me. Trying to ignore the still-smoking remains of Lord Mortis, I stepped towards him.
“Miss Pendragon!” Viktor Drakharrow’s voice snapped across the courtyard.
I turned to see him marching forward. He stopped, staring down at Lord Mortis’s corpse. I had no idea just how far dragon fire could reach, but perhaps Viktor did.
“Maybe you’d better keep your distance, Lord Drakharrow.”
He scowled, but for a moment, looked uncertain.
Lady Avari’s calm voice broke the tension. “Miss Pendragon, did you instruct Nyxaris to do that?”
Her question sent a ripple through the crowd. I felt all eyes fix on me.
Soberly, I shook my head. “No. Absolutely not.” I looked at the highbloods standing around her. “But this should make one thing very clear. Nyxaris is not bound by anyone’s will. Not mine and not yours. He acts as he pleases.”
Very accurate, Nyxaris rumbled.
I ignored him. I knew he hadn’t killed Lord Mortis to protect me. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have cared if I’d accidentally been burned to death in the flames. He’d just have found someone else to answer his questions.
“Lord Mortis insulted Nyxaris,” Lady Avari observed.
I nodded. “He did. More than once.”
Lady Avari and I looked at one another.
“If I recall my history lessons,” she said slowly. “One does not insult a dragon.”
Well, certainly not to our face. The man was a fool, Nyxaris chimed in. I’m surprised he’d lived so long.
I took a deep breath. “Nyxaris says Lord Mortis was a fool.”
There were murmurs from the crowd.
I glimpsed Kage standing to the side of the bridge, his arms crossed over his chest. If he had any fear of Nyxaris himself, he wasn’t showing it. Or perhaps his grandmother had simply taught him well.
Blake stood in the middle of the crowd. He wasn't even looking at me. He was too busy glaring at Kage. I managed not to roll my eyes. If anything, he should have been grateful. If I’d died, his free blood meals would have gone up in smoke. I wondered what he’d have done then.
Someone was pushing their way to the front.
Catherine Mortis.
She was dressed in a leather tunic and trousers in the red and white colors of her house, her silver hair braided into a coronet atop her head. Her eyes were gray like Blake’s I realized, but much paler, almost white. They settled on the still-smoldering remains of her father. I watched her face but there was no crack in her glacial composure.
She lifted her eyes from her father’s corpse and looked at me.
I swallowed. “Catherine, I’m sorry for your loss.”
Her gaze was sharp. “Thank you,” she said simply.
Lady Avari cleared her throat softly, pulling my attention back.
“I have to go,” I said, looking at Elaria.
Her colleague had just been burned to a crisp in front of her. Yet despite this, Elaria Avari’s eyes were calm. “Do you intend to return?”
I gaped at her. I had never even thought of not doing so. Now I thought of how easy it would be to leave. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted from the moment I’d arrived in Sangratha?
I glanced across the sea, not at the city of Veilmar, but at the other island to my right where Bloodwing Academy sat in a blaze of dark crimson. I thought of my friends. Florence. Her mother, Jia. Professor Rodriguez. Vaughn. Hell, I even thought of the fluffin, Neville. If I stayed, I’d be able to see them tomorrow. What would the highbloods do to them do if I didn’t return?
I drew in a shaky breath. “Yes. I’ll come back. Soon.”
I turned towards Nyxaris. I’d thought the tribunal would be the hard part. But now that I looked up at the massive black dragon, I feared I’d been wrong.
Do not be afraid, wingless one. I will not drop you, Nyxaris teased.
I wanted to tell him I wasn’t afraid of flying or falling. But it would have been a lie. Besides, my mind was suddenly too muddled to say anything at all.
Instead, I stepped closer and closer until I could reach out a trembling hand to touch his side. The dragon’s scales were smooth and radiated a soft heat.
I looked up at his enormous height. How am I supposed to...?
There was no saddle. No reins. Nothing to hold onto.
Climb. Nyxaris’s voice was imperious and impatient. You’ve come this far.
Right.
My fingers curled around a scale and I began my ascent. It was just like the day I’d climbed the black dragon in the Dragon Court. Except now Nyxaris was flesh and blood, not stone.
I wasn’t sure which was worse. His scales were certainly easier to grip now that he was alive. But the fact that he was alive was, well, fucking terrifying.
At one point, I glanced down and immediately regretted it. The world below seemed impossibly far away. It didn’t help that we were on a bridge with the sea churning far below us.
I swallowed hard and kept climbing.
Finally, I reached the ridge of his shoulders. I pulled myself up to straddle the base of his neck, my hands clutching at one of the spines that protruded from his back, and looked down at the highbloods. They must have thought I was mad. I was completely exposed. No saddle, no straps.
I’m going to die, aren’t I?
You are not going to die, Nyxaris answered. You will not fall. I will not allow it. I will not permit you to humiliate me in such a ridiculous way.
I caught movement in the crowd. Blake had moved to the front. He stared up at me, his gray eyes wide with something like awe—or fear. Was he afraid for me? Or because of me?
Nearby, Kage stood watching, too. The look in his dark eyes was hard to decipher. Respect, maybe. Or amusement. I wasn’t sure which.
“All right. Let’s get this over with,” I muttered aloud, my fingers tightening around the spine.
Nyxaris’s wings beat powerfully as we lifted higher and higher into the sky. I clung to the spine I was holding for dear life. It was bony but strangely elegant, its surface glossy and black. The tip looked extremely sharp. I wasn’t about to test it though.
Below us, the Black Keep had turned into no more than a child’s toy. Beside it lay Bloodwing Academy. The place I couldn’t help still thinking of as home. The city of Veilmar stretched out along the coast. Its bustling streets were already too far away for me to make out the details of anything clearly.
Nyxaris angled his massive body and we soared out to sea. My breath caught as the endless expanse of water came into view. The waves looked so small. At this height, if I fell, even the water wouldn’t save me. Death would be instant.
Hold tight, rider . Nyxaris’s voice rumbled in my mind, dry with amusement.
“As if I had another choice,” I muttered. My hair was whipping wildly in the wind, my cloak flapping behind me like a banner. I squeezed the spine tighter between my hands, my thighs clutching the dragon’s sides.
Did your riders ever use saddles? I asked breathlessly.
At first he didn’t answer. Then his reply came, clipped and begrudging.
Yes .
Really? I pressed on, emboldened. What were they like?
Nyxaris’s annoyance radiated through our connection. Functional. Practical. Leather, reinforced with steel. Straps secured the rider. Of course, the weaklings fell regardless.
I gulped. Even with straps. I firmly forced myself not to look down again.
I thought about how I might get a saddle made. Would they have to take Nyxaris’s measurements? I tried to imagine that and nearly burst into hysterical laughter.
Nyxaris interrupted my thoughts, his tone sharp. Do not mistake this for a recurring event, Medra Pendragon. You are here for one purpose.
My stomach twisted. I know. I know why you agreed to this. I haven’t forgotten.
Then begin , he growled. You owe me answers.
All summer I’d managed to string him along, refusing to answer his questions until he promised to help me and only then.
At first I worried he would simply go out and find someone else to help him. But evidently that wasn’t as easy as it seemed or he’d probably have done it. Perhaps only riders could speak to dragons. Another thing I’d have to ask Rodriguez about.
The books I’d read—well, scanned in haste—had been useless. Now I wondered if Rodriguez had purposely set it up that way. Obviously he kept the good ones to himself. He knew more than he let on. And he’d wanted to share only tidbits. Why? Until he knew if I was trustworthy?
Of the books I’d flipped through, one had been focused on mythology and lore. I now realized half of it was bunk.
The other was pure history. Authored by a scholar who had clearly never interacted with dragons himself. She told stories second-hand, mostly of old battles and political intrigue between houses, barely touching on what it actually meant to be a rider.
The last had been interesting but it was dense and mostly to do with healing. I’d read enough to use for my essay quotes, but hadn’t gone through it cover-to-cover.
All of the books had been centuries old and none had included practical information relevant to my present situation.
What I needed were books written by riders themselves. Or better yet, by a dragon. I wondered if a dragon had ever had anyone ghost-write their biography for them. Perhaps I could be the first.
I decided another book was called for. How to Speak to Dragons .
No, How to Speak to Dragons Without Winding Up a Scorched Corpse . Now that would be useful.
I realized I was hesitating. I could feel Nyxaris simmering with impatience. Did you really not know? That there were no other dragons alive when you woke, I mean?
Nyxaris’s silence stretched long enough that I began to wonder if he’d reply.
I did not, he admitted at last. I sensed the world had changed. I did not know how profoundly. There was something raw in his tone. Grief. Though he quickly masked it with irritation. My memory is incomplete. Clouded. As though pieces of me were absorbed into the stone.
Foggy? I asked, as gently as I could.
No. His tone was sharp. Fragmented. Missing.
I bit my lip, feeling a pang of sympathy for the creature beneath me. I had no illusions about his ruthlessness, but the idea of waking to such a harsh reality seemed cruel.
Do you know how it happened? I asked cautiously. How were you made stone in the first place?
If I knew that, do you think I’d be here with you? Asking you questions? You really are frustratingly ignorant even for a young one , the dragon snapped.
I flinched, then held on a little tighter as we dropped sharply. I’d upset him.
It must have been a curse of some kind. A powerful enchantment, I guessed, after the silence had gone on for a while.
Obviously, Nyxaris replied grumpily.
Don’t you want revenge on whoever did that to you? I asked curiously.
Of course I want revenge. But they are probably long dead. Now are you asking the questions or am I? Nyxaris snapped. He was lying. But I wasn’t going to press him. Not yet. Tell me everything you know about what happened to my kind.
And in that moment, something snapped into place. All that I knew was woefully inadequate.
Nyxaris’s wings cut through the air as I searched my mind. We’d learned a little about the Dragon Wars. Everyone knew the war had been the dragons’ undoing. But how? The books Rodriguez gave me hadn’t been written recently enough to include the Dragon Wars. Professor Hassan’s lectures had barely scratched the surface. She had spoken about alliances between houses, civil war, catastrophic losses. But she hadn’t explicitly said how the dragons perished.
I glanced down at the sea, my stomach lurching at the height.
So quiet. Nyxaris’s voice rumbled, tinged with annoyance. Have I frightened you into silence? Tell me.
I swallowed hard. I learned about the Dragon Wars in a history class last year. My professor said the last of the dragons perished during that time. Some must have been killed in battle. One of my other professors said some died of a plague. But...
But what? Nyxaris’s voice lashed through my mind, demanding more.
I inhaled, trying to gather my thoughts. But I don’t know if anyone knows how your kind went extinct. Not precisely. Maybe I just haven’t read the right books. Or maybe... Maybe no one truly knows.
Nyxaris’s growl reverberated through my skull, sending a shiver down my spine. Are you saying your kind forgot us?
For a moment I worried I’d offended him worse than Lord Mortis had.
No, I said hastily. Not forgot. I hesitated. I mean they can’t remember. Because the truth has been hidden.
Nyxaris snorted. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he banked left, tilting sharply.
I gasped, my heart in my throat, as we dropped down closer to the glittering surface of the sea.
This is unbearable, Nyxaris said finally. I could hear the desperation tinging his voice.
I know. You deserve answers. You deserve... I searched for the right words. You deserve so much more than this. To awaken alone... I can’t imagine how awful that must have been.
He was quiet for a long time.
No, you don’t, he said finally. To be the last of one’s kind–I am not sure it is a life worth living.
A lump formed in my throat. Don’t say that. Please. I need you. I care about what happens to you.
He snorted. You care only about your own survival, young one .
No , I said stubbornly. It’s more than that. Be patient. Let me search for more answers. I swear, I’ll get some for you. One of my professors has books—very old ones. I’ll look through them. He’s helped me before. But if he doesn’t, I’ll find a way. I’ll do whatever it takes.
Silence.
When Nyxaris’s voice returned to my head, it was low and commanding. You owe me more than promises. Do not fail me.
My throat tightened. I’ll keep my promise. I hesitated. And I want to thank you. You have my eternal gratitude for what you did today.
Nyxaris’s laugh was different from his usual rumble this time. There was something bitter to it. You awakened me to serve your own needs.
That’s not true , I protested. I didn’t mean to awaken you at all. And I certainly wouldn’t be bothering you if my life wasn’t on the line.
For a moment, he was silent. The wind whipped around us. You make promises so easily, little earth walker. But words are fleeting. Tell me, then—what of the ritual? Even if it was an accident, can it bring back the others?
I hesitated, the weight of his question hitting me like a hammer. I don’t know. I don’t even fully understand how it worked. It wasn’t planned.
Convenient, the black dragon muttered. You meddle with power beyond your comprehension. Yet now you think you can find answers for me.
My frustration bubbled to the surface. I will try. I swear that. But you need to ask yourself something. If it was even possible to bring back the others, is that something you’d truly want?
I felt his wings falter for a fraction of a second. Would I want it? he echoed. To see my kin again? To hear their roars? Yes, I think I would. Then his voice darkened. But would they be free? Or would this cursed world of highbloods snatch them away as it always did, chaining us to their wars and their greed?
I still didn’t see how the dragons had ever been brought under highblood control. But I assumed that had to do with the rider bonds. Something Nyxaris had already firmly insisted he would not be allowing again.
Did you fight in the Dragon Wars? I asked tentatively. Were you there?
His silence was heavy.
I do not remember. His tone was stiff, almost pained. I fought in many wars. They blend together in my mind.
I sensed his growing frustration.
It’s all right, I said soothingly. We’ll find answers together.
He let out a low, guttural growl. Something of me was taken when I was turned to stone. You spoke of revenge. Payment is required. A heavy loss has been incurred.
I could sense his fury, his pain. Once you struck fear into highblood hearts. They needed you, yes, but they must have hated you, too.
That is true, he admitted.
You can strike fear into their hearts once more. If we act together. Would you rather be hunted and pitied? Or admired and feared?
Nyxaris snorted. Such simplistic thinking.
But it’s true, isn’t it? I insisted. If we work together, we can make them believe they control you–when you and I will know it’s the other way around. I will help you, I promised. We’ll find out who did this to you. It doesn’t matter how long ago it was. Someone still alive must know something. We’ll find your missing pieces, too.
He didn’t reply. I took that as an answer.
And in that moment, I realized my relationship with Nyxaris was just like mine and Blake’s.
Neither of us really wanted to be in it. We were trapped together.
So here I was, begging Nyxaris for small pieces of himself. Just like Blake had to do with my blood.
Except, I told myself, Blake never begged.
What sort of person could turn a dragon to stone? What sort of person would want to?
The sun began to drop as we flew on in silence.