Chapter 21
21
Isavelle
T he Dragon Games continue, each event drawing bigger crowds than the last. The third event begins at dusk, and I understand why it’s held in the dark when I witness the competing dragons shooting flames and sparks at great distances across the dragongrounds. This event favors bigger dragons, so Esmeral and I decide to sit this one out. I cheer and applaud as Scourge breathes a line of flame across the ground at least a dozen lengths of his body from nose to tail.
Zenevieve, who’s sitting by my side, applauds and whoops along with me. “That will be difficult for the other dragons to beat. Zabriel has a chance of winning this event.”
As the event progresses, it seems more and more likely that Zenevieve is right, and I start to get excited for Scourge and Zabriel.
Kane moves his dragon into place. Auryn has a hard, focused look in his black eyes, and I feel a moment of trepidation. While the previous events seemed to irritate or confuse him, Auryn can’t wait to breathe fire. When he does, the line of flame travels a great distance—but not far enough. With a roar of annoyance, Auryn takes to the skies.
Half a dozen more dragons compete, with Verdun and Lethis almost outstripping Scourge, but they fall short.
Stesha and Nilak are the last pair, and I feel myself sit up and clench my hands on my skirt. Nilak is luminous and beautiful in the moonlight. Stesha is upright on her back, the wind catching at his flow of white hair.
Hundreds of people are cheering for the dragonmaster and Nilak and waving their white and blue ribbons in the air. I never thought of the dragonmaster as a popular man, but during the Dragon Games, he’s admired like the brightest star in the heavens. He has as many people cheering for him as Zabriel does. I like Stesha. I respect Stesha. But I want my mate to be the favorite and to win.
Two women seated behind us have been exclaiming nonstop throughout the event. I’ve been too focused on Zabriel to pay attention to their words, but suddenly their conversation rings through the air.
“The dragonmaster looks so handsome tonight. He’s going to win the Dragon Games and drive that imposter Alpha out of Lenhale.”
“And take the man’s Omega as his mate,” the second woman finishes excitedly. “I was there the day he brought her to Lenhale. It was like something out of the old tales. I don’t think I’ve stopped swooning.”
I glance at Zenevieve, worried that she might feel hurt by this, but she’s gazing straight ahead across the arena as if she hasn’t heard a thing. She waves no one’s ribbons today, though I was touched to see her holding turquoise and gold for the previous event. Perhaps she’s given up hope that Stesha will look at her differently. As she’s not fated to the Alpha, I suppose it makes sense that her feelings will eventually fade.
There’s a stake in the ground bearing a red and black ribbon that marks the reach of Scourge’s fire, and Nilak fixes her glittering gaze on it as she lowers her head and opens her jaws. My heart leaps into my throat. Fire races across the ground, lighting up the dragongrounds. The liquid golden ripple races toward the stake, hungry to consume it. The dragon opens her jaws wider, her throat ablaze. The river of fire consumes Kane and Auryn’s stake and the crowd cheers, but then it slows, failing to catch up to Scourge and Zabriel.
Nilak’s eyes narrow as she raises her head. The dragonmaster inclines his head to the crowd in thanks for their cheers, and he and Nilak go back to their place. That’s two events that Zabriel has bested him in, a fact that won’t be sitting well on the Alpha’s shoulders, as I know he considers Zabriel his only real competition.
“You’re proud of Zabriel, aren’t you?” Zenevieve asks me with a smile.
I realize I’m sitting up straighter and running Zabriel’s colors through my fingers. “So proud. This win puts him equal first with Sundra.”
When Zabriel returns to me, my mate smells deliciously smoky from all the dragonfire, and his scent is full of fiery victory. He picks me up and holds me one-handed while my arms are wrapped around his neck, and he accepts the congratulations of his fellow dragonriders. He collects his winner’s ribbon, and then he carries me off to bed.
The following morning, we assemble for the day’s event, which I’m excited to hear favors nimble, curious dragons. Part of the dragongrounds has been filled with furniture, wagons, barrels, cut-down trees, bales of straw, heaps of farming equipment, and piles of dirt. The Temple Mothers explain that there will be six rocks hidden in the debris, all spelled to chirp very faintly.
“This event is in memory of those who died in the avalanche in the Bodan Mountains during the reign of King Thenor, the present king’s great-grandfather,” Mother Linnea tells us. “The landslide buried a unit of soldiers beneath ice and snow. Dragons and riders worked quickly to dig them out, and many lives were saved that day. But six soldiers perished, and this event commemorates them.”
I stand with my hand pressed against Esmeral’s neck, and I show her what Mother Linnea told us through a series of pictures. Esmeral’s morale has been dented ever since we withdrew from the Three Howls event, but I feel her interest prick up at the idea of rescuing lost soldiers.
“That’s right, we don’t have to be the biggest or the strongest to be valuable dragonriders,” I whisper to her. “We can tear Auryn’s wing to save fledglings. We can search for missing soldiers. We can be as swift and agile as any wingrunner.”
The competitors withdraw to the far end of the dragongrounds so we don’t see where the chirping rocks are buried. Esmeral and I are two of the last competitors. Stesha seems agitated as he waits for his and Nilak’s names to be called in the arena, and he’s pacing up and down. As I watch, Nilak leans her great head down and nudges his back. Her rider stops moving and embraces her, closing his eyes and pressing his head against her.
I wonder why because this isn’t a particularly dangerous event. Perhaps he’s upset that Zabriel is ahead of him, but I assumed that he’d only become more stoic in the face of adversity.
He and Nilak are called in, and a while later I hear rapturous applause, so they seem to have done well. There’s another competitor, and then a Temple Mother shouts Esmeral’s and my name.
I feel a burst of butterflies in my stomach as I mount Esmeral and we enter the arena, and I see all the watching people. Turquoise and golden ribbons wave through the crowd. A Temple Mother reminds me of the event rules, that we’re allowed to fly, and that we have six rocks to find as quickly as possible, and we can give up at any time by returning to our starting place.
The moment the horn sounds and Esmeral spreads her wings, I can feel her delight. She’s always been a bright, curious dragon, and her attention is pricked forward as she flies low over the debris. As she hunts for the rocks, I forget all about my nerves and help her hunt. We find all six rocks surprisingly quickly.
Stesha is there as we pass out of the arena, his arms folded as he leans against Nilak. “Well done, Queen Isavelle.”
“Thank you, dragonmaster. It was all Esmeral.”
He nods. “She’s a credit to the flare.”
Esmeral bounds over to Zenevieve, chittering excitedly, and she embraces first my dragon and then me. “That was incredible. I think that has earned you and Esmeral a place on the leaderboard.”
I brush a strand of hair out of my face and ask in surprise. “Do you really think so?”
She squeezes my shoulder and grins. “Let’s wait and see.”
The event ends, and the Temple Crone emerges into the arena to announce the winners. “In third place, Aurissa and her rider Corin.”
There’s a smattering of uncertain applause and surprised murmuring throughout the crowd. The yellow dragon is on the far side of the assembled dragons, looking fierce and unapproachable. I wonder if she understands that she’s earned a place and she should be proud. I hope her rider is able to explain it to her.
“In second place…”
Zenevieve nudges me with her elbow. I’m still looking at Aurissa, and I turn back with a gasp. “Did she say Esmeral? What place are we in?”
“You and Esmeral are in second place,” Zenevieve says with a laugh, joining in the applause that has erupted around us.
From behind the Temple Crone I hear an ear-splitting whistle, and I see Zabriel with two fingers at the corners of his mouth. When he has my attention, he waves at me, grinning, and I wave back.
“And in first place, Nilak and our dragonmaster.”
The sky is filled with white and blue streamers. People are stomping their feet. As the applause and cries of congratulations wash over Stesha, he slowly inclines his head in thanks. Whatever was making him so agitated before the event doesn’t seem to bother him now.
My fellow dragonriders cluster around me and Esmeral offering their congratulations and clasping my wrist. The faces are filled with surprise and respect. They weren’t expecting the smallest, youngest dragon and the pregnant queen to earn a place.
Behind them all, basking in my success as if it’s as delightful as his own, Zabriel is gazing at me and grinning.
As soon as he’s able to reach my side, he pulls me into his arms. “Did you see everyone’s faces? They all underestimated you and Esmeral.”
I can’t stop smiling, and I’m bouncing on my toes, but I remind myself not to get carried away. “It’s just one event.”
“There are more to come, and all but one favors smaller, agile dragons. The little Omegas will do better than the Alphas.”
“You sound pleased about that.”
He kisses me. “I’m thrilled. It’s your coronation games after all. I’m so proud of my queen.”
“It’s not like Esmeral and I will win the Dragon Games.”
“No, but you could take a place. Second or third, which some of these Alphas are coveting for themselves.”
Under Zabriel’s proud gaze, I feel myself grow a little proud as well. Esmeral and I aren’t merely being good sports by entering the games. We might be good at this. We might be a threat. I wasn’t expecting that.
I reach up and place my hands on my mate’s chest, and say to him earnestly, “Can I tell you something, Zabriel? Esmeral and I didn’t enter these games just to make a good impression in front of the people of Lenhale. We want to be thought of as a dragon and her rider.”
“You are, sha’lenla . How could you not be?”
“A dragon and rider who go into battle.”
Zabriel regards me in silence for a moment. Carefully, he says, “You and Esmeral were there at the southern barrier, and you helped support the injured riders and soldiers.”
“Yes, but you know that supporting the riders and soldiers is not the same thing as being a real battle dragon and rider.”
“You led the mission to get the lost villagers back.”
“The ethereal plane mission wasn’t a battle. Well, it was for you.” I touch his side where he was injured. “Esmeral saved your life, but she only managed to do so because she wasn’t going to leave her Alpha’s rider unprotected, not because she was given specific orders. We want to be given battle orders.”
Zabriel cups my cheek and leans down and presses his forehead against mine. “I understand. You are thinking of future threats by Emmeric and his undead army. But, Isavelle…”
His palm rests on my belly, and I cover it with my own. “I know. Not while I’m pregnant. I won’t always be pregnant, but there will always be threats against Maledin, won’t there?”
Zabriel’s red eyes gaze into mine. “There is a place for you and Esmeral in the dragon army. I will try to temper my concerns about your safety with your wishes. Though it will be hard for me, knowing how dangerous battles can be.”
“I worry about you just as much as you worry about me.”
He kisses me. “That is true.”
Past Zabriel’s shoulder, Aurissa rises into the air, moving off in a northeasterly direction.
“I’m pleased for Aurissa that she was able to place.”
Zabriel shakes his head in wonder. “You should have seen her. Aurissa understood the purpose of this event instinctively, and she tore the competition area apart searching for the clicking rocks. She and Corin almost bested your time.”
“Aurissa was excellent.” Stesha has appeared beside us, Nilak by his side, and I’m surprised by the genuine admiration I see in his face as Aurissa disappears over the horizon.
“Well done to you and Nilak, dragonmaster,” I tell him.
“Thank you, my queen. You made us work for it.”
“You sound happy about that.”
“I’m grateful for the chance to prove myself,” he says. “Competition should be fierce, and you and Esmeral were ardent in your efforts.”
As he and Nilak move to the other end of the dragongrounds, I ask Zabriel, “Does he mean it? He’s pleased we did so well?”
“Stesha is deadly serious when it comes to dragon matters. He means every word.”
My dragon’s mood is fiery as I bid her farewell. Esmeral’s confidence has swelled, and she has her mind on the agility event tomorrow. Despite telling myself breezily that I don’t care if we win, I feel a blaze of determination in my own heart as I see our names up on the leaderboard.
People continue to congratulate me and Esmeral for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. The feeling of being respected as a dragonrider, not just the king’s mate? Too wonderful for words.
I feel as though I’ve doubled in size overnight. The baby sits heavily in my pelvis this morning, and I push my palms into my aching lower back and groan. Esmeral and I are surrounded by dragons and riders, and we’re watching the agility event begin. I’m feeling far from agile this morning.
As a dragon passes close to us, Esmeral wraps her wing around me and moves me out of harm’s way. I’ve noticed that she’s becoming more protective of me as my belly grows. I’ve seen the mother dragons shepherd their fledglings around the flare in the same manner, nudging them out of the path of oblivious older dragons, and using their wings to guard them.
Esmeral nuzzles my belly after the dragon passes us, and I smile to myself. It’s not so much my baby as our baby. Esmeral keeps it safe just as much as I do.
When Omaira completes the course, there’s a burst of applause so loud that it takes me by surprise. The dragon and rider must have done well. I crane my neck, hoping for some clue about their flying technique, but it’s too late because the race is over.
“Rats, we should have been paying attention,” I say to my belly, and I give the growing baby and Esmeral’s snout a rub. “Well, we three have already practiced our flying technique, and we can’t change it now, can we?” I move my big belly around and cling on tight, and Esmeral flies as fast as she can.
A few of the dragonriders around me shoot me amused looks.
“A sound technique. You can’t do better than holding on tight and flying fast, my queen,” Calliope tells me with a smile. From what I can see, Calliope and Verdun are the only Alpha pair from Zabriel’s flare entering this event.
“Good skies to you. I’m pleased to see an Alpha pair will be flying.” I’ve spotted Ragdyn and Rhan this morning as well, so I presume they’re here to try their luck.
Calliope grins. “The others are scared of making fools of themselves and tripping over their own wings, but Verdun insisted we enter. She’s always been nimble, and we must play to our strengths.” She hesitates and then says, “I have watched you flying, and this isn’t just about doing your best in the games, is it? Do you have hopes about going into battle?”
I feel a twinge of dismay, and wonder if Calliope isn’t going to politely discourage me, or outright tell me I’m stupid for thinking Esmeral and I can keep up with the other dragons.
Calliope must notice my expression because she assures me, “Esmeral is quick-witted and fast, and Verdun would be proud to fly alongside her, if and when the time comes.”
I rub my belly again. “You don’t think I should stay home in my nest with my babies?”
“A queen who is prepared to protect Maledin with her own heart and dragon makes us all proud.”
I smile at her. “Thank you, Calliope.”
“I’ll tell you a trick to help Esmeral with the namyr in the future. Once, I had a musician play music all the way through Verdun’s heat, and she finally got used to it. That’s the only reason we were able to do well in the Three Howls.”
Alpha female dragons go into heat, though they don’t feel the urge to nest like Omegas do and stay out in the open. “I’m surprised she didn’t attack the player.”
“So am I. It was actually Verdun’s idea, and for some reason, all that mating turmoil helped her learn to tune out the horrible racket of the namyr, and she was fine after that. You and Esmeral might like to try the same thing.”
I find myself standing there staring at Calliope and unable to say a thing.
She frowns. “My queen?”
Another dragonrider wants us to do well. Get stronger. A rider from Old Maledin who never saw the previous queen ride a dragon. I quickly smile and shake my head. “Sorry, you caught me by surprise. I’m grateful that you believe in us enough to give us advice.”
“Of course, my queen. It’s what dragonriders do.”
A cheer goes up, and I realize I’ve missed another race. I caress Esmeral and check in on how she’s feeling. Though she’s excited, Esmeral’s mind is clear and steady.
“Even if we don’t get a place, we are already on the board,” I whisper to Esmeral, and then give her a mischievous smile. “Even Stesha congratulated us, remember? Rare praise that I doubt we’ll ever hear again.”
As I stroke Esmeral’s neck, I wonder how many other dragons and riders are seeing this game as a chance to prove themselves. Most people who are crowded together watching us have never seen dragons up close before, so maybe we all are.
It’s not long before our names are called. The course is similar to the wingrunner training course Esmeral and I have been practicing in, I’m pleased to see.
“Good skies, Queen Isavelle. But do take care of that little one,” one of the Temple Mothers who is refereeing tells me.
I hear a note of disapproval in her voice as she reminds me about my baby, and Esmeral turns to the Hratha’len woman with a fierce look. My dragon hasn’t forgotten that the Hratha’len have done more harm to me than anyone since the High Priest, so reminders from them to take care rankle a little.
I touch my belly and hold my head high. “Esmeral and I always do.”
When the horn sounds, Esmeral doesn’t so much as take off as punches forward into the sky. Her muscles have been growing stronger with all the practice, and I’m prepared for this and hold on tight. The course is unforgivable, with many sharp turns and difficult corners. It doesn’t feel easy, but it does feel blissful. I anticipate every twist and dive my dragon makes, and I shift my weight from side to side to help her maneuver.
When she approaches a hoop, she pulls her wings in, comes through it with a flourishing twist, and soars toward the next one. It feels joyful. We’re really flying. Skillfully flying. Since the beginning of the race, no sound has reached my ears except for the rush of wind and the noise of Esmeral’s wings. Now as we approach the end of the course, I can hear cheers and whistles from the crowd. As we shoot through the final hoop, I’m laughing, and my body is pressed so far forward over Esmeral’s neck that I’m practically hugging her. My dragon flutters gracefully to the ground amid applause, and I dismount, still hugging her.
“Beautiful, wonderful dragon,” I say, kissing her scales over and over again. I can feel her heart racing and swelling with pride.
Suddenly Zabriel is there, scooping me up in a massive hug and swinging me around before setting me carefully back on my feet. His face is glowing with pride. “ Sha’lenla , you and Esmeral were magnificent. You flew like the wind. It was like I was watching a wingrunner the way you took some of those corners.”
Behind Zabriel, my bodyguards are glowing with pride.
“Fiala and Dusan have been helping me train,” I tell him.
“Esmeral would have no trouble dodging arrows and fireballs in battles,” Fiala tells him.
Zabriel pats my dragon’s flank. “That she wouldn’t. Well done, Esmeral.”
I hug my dragon happily, thrilled with our result. It doesn’t matter what our place is when I know we flew our very best. We move to the enclosure with the other dragons who have already competed, and I sit perched atop a hay bale, watching the final competitors. My mind is replaying how it felt flying the course, and I barely see which dragons are flying, let alone what times they make. I don’t even know what time we made.
Zabriel is watching the competitors with razor-sharp interest. Suddenly, he turns to me with victory blazing in his eyes and gets down on one knee before me. “Congratulations, my queen.”
“But you’ve already given me your…” I start to say.
He stares at me, and then laughs. “Have you not seen the banners? Do you not realize where you have placed?”
I look over his shoulder, and for the first time, I see the different colored streamers proclaiming the results. There in first place are Esmeral’s colors.
“We won?” I exclaim. “We actually won?”
Zabriel picks me up and swings me around. “You won. You and Esmeral flew the fastest.”
As he holds me up high, and with my arms wrapped around his neck, I can see and hear the crowd roaring. The air is suddenly full of turquoise and gold streamers.
I reach for Esmeral and hug her to me while I’m still held in Zabriel’s arms. We won an event. A truly difficult event. As soon as I’m able, I seek out Menelope and Calliope, for they have placed second and third, and give them my congratulations and hugs.
Finally, I see Dad and Anise waving to me. My sister’s hands are full of turquoise and golden ribbons, and she’s jumping up and down. After I receive their kisses and congratulations, and the Temple Crone presents me with a winner’s golden ribbon, we head into the Great Hall to get something to eat. Now that the race is over, I’m suddenly famished.
Dad gets talking to another craftsperson about his tannery, and Zabriel is discussing the next event with some riders, so it’s just Anise and me piling up our plates.
“Let’s take our food outside. It’s a beautiful afternoon,” I suggest.
In the courtyard, I can’t help but notice that as we eat, Anise’s happiness seems to fade. She picks at her food and seems distracted by something, barely replying to my conversation. As we get up to leave, I notice her flinch. She has a haunted look about her, and her face is pale.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says quickly, but I don’t believe her.
I look around for the source of her upset, and feel a bolt of anger as I spy Kane across the other side of the courtyard, lingering in the shadows and glaring at Anise.
Why is it always Kane?
I turn to my sister. “Is it him? Has he been upsetting you? What’s he been saying to you?”
“Well…” Anise begins, but trails off.
“There’s no reason for him to look at you, speak to you, or be anywhere near you. I’ll fix this.”
To my surprise, Anise grabs my arm and holds me back. “No, Isavelle. Don’t. Please.”
Something isn’t right here. This is my home, and my sister is my guest. I’m not going to say and do nothing while Kane is upsetting her. What’s more, Anise only just turned fifteen, and I feel responsible for her. “I’m sorry, but I’m speaking with him.”
With Anise clinging to my arm, I can’t move far, but I call to him, “Will you come here please, Kane?”
Kane saunters over to us, his black eyes gleaming darkly. “There’s something foul in this castle, don’t you think, witch?”
I hate it when he calls me that, almost as much as when he says it to Ravenna. We are witches, but there’s always so much hate lacing the word when he says it. “The only thing foul around here is you.”
“Me? I’m filled with light and empowered by righteousness,” he says, his gaze lingering on Anise as she flinches away from him.
Fiala and Dusan are never far away from me. They close in from either side, glaring at Kane with their hands gripping their weapons.
“That is speaking like a witchfinder, which you no longer are,” I tell him. “You’re an Alpha in charge of a wild flare. Do you have nothing better to do than harass a defenseless girl?”
“You should listen to me. I’m never wrong.”
Anise moans in horror, her arms wrapped around her waist.
I look back and forth between the two of them. “There’s nothing foul about my sister.”
Kane glares at her. “Tell them what you are, witch.”
Anise is a witch? When Biddy insisted that she was part of our coven, I thought it was an honorary place so that Anise didn’t feel excluded. My sister was happy enough to join in, but she’s never shown any interest in spells or plants. A witch wouldn’t be able to help but feel interested, surely.
“Anise…” I begin.
“I’m not a witch!” she shrieks.
I watch my sister for a moment. If she’s so sure, or is so adamantly against it, then I’m not going to insist otherwise. I say to Kane, “You’re no longer a witchfinder, and I don’t want you following my sister around. Let’s leave the matter at that.”
Kane gazes down his nose at me in disgust, and points a finger in Anise’s face. “It’s been my life’s work to root out evil from the shadows and bring it into the light. I know well the stench of danger brewing.”
Anise has turned even paler, and she’s breathing fast and shallow. She looks small and terrified with Kane’s huge black figure looming over her. She’s like a field mouse cornered by a buzzard.
I push Kane’s hand out of her face. “My sister is not evil.”
“She’s a witch ,” he growls.
“Haven’t you got it through that thick skull of yours yet that witches are not evil?”
“That’s enough, Kane,” Fiala tells him. “The queen has ordered you to leave her sister alone.”
He takes a long, slow look around the courtyard, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He has the attitude of a wolf who is hunting for a telltale movement or scent, and his attention snaps back to Anise. “I know what I feel. There’s something not right here.”
“I’m not a witch,” Anise insists, tears filling her eyes.
“A cry I’ve heard a hundred times from a hundred witches,” he scoffs. “What darkness lurks in your heart, witch? What spells and hexes have you been casting?”
“I—I didn’t do anyth—” Anise stammers.
“Of whom are you jealous?” Kane demands of her. “Who do you resent? The stench of hatred is thick in this castle, and it clings to you.”
Anise gazes up at him fearfully, her body trembling and the whites showing all around her eyes.
I push myself in front of her. “Stop harassing my sister. If Anise says she’s not a witch, then she’s not a witch.”
Both Fiala and Dusan reach for his arms to drag him away.
Kane speaks the word he said to me when he was a prisoner of the Brethren and I saved his life. “ Rrus-nahl .”
Once, Master Gaun and his fellow warlocks lined up and shouted that word at Ravenna and me to demonstrate the extent of their powers. We glowed a little, for their powers are not strong.
Light erupts from within Anise and me, and every inch of our exposed skin and hair shines so brightly that, for a moment, I’m dazzled. My bodyguards shade their eyes with their hands.
The glow fades, and Anise bursts into tears and falls at my feet. Kane whirls around and strides away.
I gather my sister into my arms and hold her, trying not to feel hurt that Anise is devastated that she’s a witch. I never imagined that she harbored any dislike in her heart for witches, but perhaps I was wrong.
“It’s not so awful to be a witch,” I tell her. “I thought you enjoyed spending time with me, Ravenna, and Mistress Hawthorne.”
“I do,” Anise sobs. “It’s just that…it’s just that… He’s right, I am envious of you. I don’t know why you were chosen and not me.”
“Chosen for what?”
“Chosen for everything ,” she cries. “You have a dragon, and you live in the capital, and everyone thinks you’re special. Ever since you saved me from the tithing, you’ve been special. I want to be my own person. I don’t to want be a witch.”
She trails off with a sniffle, and her words lay heavily on us. The stone floor is cold beneath my thighs. I didn’t know Anise felt this way.
Anise rubs her nose. “Sorry. I’m so proud of you, Isavelle, but what that horrible man said about me is true. I have bad thoughts. Am—am I going to be arrested?”
I hold her close and tuck her under my chin. “Of course you’re not. We all have unpleasant thoughts sometimes, but that doesn’t mean we’re bad people. Kane makes everything worse than it needs to be. Would it be so terrible to be a witch? All witches are different. Ravenna can do things I never could.”
“Not so terrible, I suppose,” she finally admits. “But it’s not what I want, and it’s not what I dream about.”
“Then tell me what it is you do dream about.”
She glances up at my bodyguards. “I love the wyverns. I want to be a wingrunner.”
I think about all the times I saw Anise searching the skies for wyverns and admiring the wingrunners. A human and a witch who wants to be a wingrunner. Ashton offered to teach Ravenna to ride, but she wasn’t trying to join the ranks of the wingrunners. All the wingrunners I know are Maledinni. Anise doesn’t possess any Maledinni blood, or she would have been killed by Emmeric along with Ma and Waylen.
I glance at Fiala and Dusan for help. “What rules do you have for the wingrunners, and could Captain Ashton be persuaded to allow a human to train to be one of you?”
Dusan crouches down on his heels and smiles at Anise. “If you truly wish to be a wingrunner, then all you need is a head for heights and a reckless heart. There is a bond between wyvern and rider, but it grows naturally rather than fated by the gods like it is between dragon and rider. So you don’t need to be Maledinni.”
Anise sniffles, her face lightening with hope. “Really?”
“Really. If it’s your dream, there’s no reason it can’t come true.”
Dusan’s manner is so kind that I feel my heart glow.
“The training is rigorous,” Fiala tells her. “There are many tests to complete before anyone becomes a full-fledged wingrunner, but training usually begins at age fifteen.”
“I’m fifteen,” Anise exclaims, clutching Fiala’s hand, her tears completely forgotten. “Everyone always said I was reckless, didn’t they, Isavelle?”
I laugh and help my sister to her feet. “That they did. Who knew that you would one day be so happy to admit it?”
Fiala promises Anise to take her to see Captain Ashton in the morning, and she will speak to him about getting her signed up for the trainee program. My sister skips away back into the Great Hall, her manner lighter and happier than I’ve seen in years.
“I probably should have talked to Dad before we promised all that,” I say with a twinge of regret.
Dusan eyes me curiously. “Will he protest, do you think?”
“I’m not sure. He didn’t get a say in what happened to me, or what happened to Ma and Waylen. Anise is the only one he has left. Dad was raised under the Brethren, who always told him that the husband should make all the decisions for the household. I’m so used to Zabriel encouraging me to follow my heart in all things and admiring whatever strange magic I produce that I forgot that not everyone is as accepting as he is.”
I trail off as I see Kane still watching Anise with narrowed eyes. He looks angrier than ever. We’ve spoiled his fun.
I walk over to him. “Were you enjoying yourself just now, making my sister miserable?”
“You think I acted out of malice?”
“Don’t you always?”
He eyes me narrowly. “Do you know what’s more dangerous than a witch?”
“We’re not danger—”
“A witch in denial. Your sister is a little fool, and she was never going to admit to herself what she was. If I didn’t make her see what you, my mate, and your stupid old crone missed, one day her powers could have boiled over and killed someone. Thank you, Kane. I am in your debt, Kane .”
“You find the cruelest way to go about everything. No wonder your so-called mate despises you.”
“You’re so obsessed with hating me that you won’t listen to my warnings. Maybe your sister isn’t everything that I’ve been sensing, and she’s made from sugar and sunshine, but there’s something dark in this castle. I’m not wrong about that. I’m never wrong about that.” Kane strides away, his hateful black cloak billowing behind him.
It’s not pleasant, learning that my sister dislikes the thought of being a witch and harbors some envy toward me in her heart. At least everything is out in the open now, and hopefully she’ll be able to pursue her dreams.
But I can’t help but worry over what Kane said. Hatred and dark spells. I gnaw on my lip, not liking the suspicions that are swirling in my heart. Anise doesn’t know the first thing about dark spells. I don’t think he was sensing Anise. Which could mean…
First I walk in one direction, telling myself that I should go and do something about my suspicions. Then I walk the other way, reasoning that it’s not really any of my business to get between the two of them. Finally, I turn sharply for the third time, telling myself that it will be my business if my friend does something unwise and is dragged before my mate for judgment.
I don’t like the man, and I would prefer if he was gone. I’ve wished for his demise, especially at her hands, but with a clearer head, I don’t think that’s the best course of action for either of them.
A few minutes later, I’m tapping gently on Ravenna’s door.
“Come in,” she calls.
When I enter, Ravenna is sitting on the rug with herbs and books spread out around her, bundling up dried plants with twine. If I hate Kane, then the witch before me must burn with the desire for revenge.
She beams up at me. “It’s so good to see you, my queen. I feel like we’ve barely had the chance to talk since the Dragon Games began.”
There’s a fire flickering in the grate, and by her side is a stool with a pot of tea. She reaches for another cup, fills it, and passes it to me. I take a sip, and the taste of gooseberries and bergamot burst on my tongue.
“This is delicious, thank you. Have you been watching the games?”
Ravenna sips her own tea thoughtfully. “I told myself that I wouldn’t. I let Kane see me bearing the dragonmaster’s colors and that was supposed to be enough, but…” She flashes me a quick smile. “I confess I find it all quite thrilling. I’ve always kept away from celebrations and gatherings because they were too dangerous for a witch. I never joined in the village festivals and fetes, and I made myself believe I wasn’t missing anything. Gathering herbs by moonlight in the empty woods, that suited me just fine. But I’m safe wherever I go now, more or less. Moving in vast crowds of people means I’m no longer in danger of being grabbed by a hundred pairs of hands, dragged to the scaffold, and burned at the stake. At first it was a little frightening watching the games, but now I’m rather enjoying myself. The dragons are all so beautiful.”
“That makes me so happy to hear. Your life should be filled with all the things you love.” I play with one of Ravenna’s loose pages for a moment. “I’ve had barely any time to think of spells and visiting my crone. Those necromancy books have been on my mind. But tell me, what does it do to a witch if she uses dark magic?”
“Well, that depends,” Ravenna says thoughtfully, and takes a sip of her tea. She doesn’t seem to mind the sudden change of subject. “Some spells are dark because of what is needed to cast them. The blood of an unwilling victim. The tears of a terrified child. Others are dark because they control another’s will. But if you use a dark spell with good intentions, like to protect innocents or in self-defense, is it still a dark spell? That question is interesting, but there are very few books on the ethics and morals of magic. The Brethren called all magic evil, even a harmless healing spell, so there wasn’t any nuance to explore. We should talk to the warlocks at the archive about commissioning some works on the matter.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea,” I say, but I still feel uneasy about what Ravenna might be up to. “Are there consequences for using dark magic? What if a witch feels hatred for someone who is deserving of hate and seeks to hurt them. Will she, I don’t know…” I search to pinpoint my worries. “Lose a part of herself that’s precious?”
Ravenna stares at me for a long time in silence, the firelight flickering in her hazel eyes. In a darker tone of voice, she says slowly, “Some spells are cruel, but perhaps under certain circumstances, the recipient is deserving of cruelty and a taste of the suffering that he has wreaked. It would be a black mark on a witch’s soul, that is certain, but perhaps she won’t mind a few blemishes, and hopes that no one will think less of her for her flaws.”
“I would never look down upon her. But I would worry for her.”
I wish I knew more about dark spells so I could understand just how alarmed or upset I should be by what Ravenna is saying. A black mark is surely for life. A black mark could fester. Ravenna must be able to protect herself from Kane, but if she casts a truly dark spell on him to take vengeance on him, I worry about the consequences for her.
“Remember that you may always petition my mate if you seek justice or protection. Zabriel will never turn his back on you.”
Ravenna smiles. “And I thought we were speaking generally. You are uneasy about my situation, but be assured that I seek neither justice nor revenge while in the king’s castle. But I appreciate the king’s protection. Now, will you have some more tea? Please stay as long as you wish.”
I pull a book into my lap, but I don’t open it. I don’t want to paw through Ravenna’s books like a suspicious witchfinder who is hunting for evidence to burn her at the stake.
Later I find Dad in the castle wing where he and Anise have been sleeping. There’s a room with a fireplace and some comfortable chairs, and a bedroom each for the two of them.
He’s got a chunk of wood and a small knife in his hands.
“What is that you’re making?” I ask.
“Oh. It’s not finished, but look.”
He shows me the figurine, and the shape makes me gasp in delight. “A dragon? You’re carving a little dragon?”
“Your dragon, for you. I’ve been watching you both compete, and she’s such a pretty creature. The wings are giving me some trouble, but I’ll get there.”
“It’s going to be beautiful.” The wings are taking shape, and there are even little scales along her flank. I take a deep breath. “Dad, I was speaking with Anise today. She was upset by one of the former witchfinders, and I found myself promising her something when I should have asked you about it first.”
Dad eyes me curiously as I explain that Anise also seems to be a witch, but she was so upset by the idea, and she’d rather be a wingrunner and ride one of the wyverns he’s seen flying over Maledin.
“Hmm,” is all Dad says for a moment, continuing to carve the dragon. “Anise said that, did she? And you promised her she could? Well, I suppose a big sister has trouble saying no to a little sister who’s crying her eyes out.”
“Thank you for being kind and not saying the Queen of Maledin can do whatever she likes.” He raises his arm so I can move closer for a hug.
“That would be a cold thing to say. You’re still my daughter, aren’t you?”
“I am,” I say, burrowing into his warmth.
“My daughter, with a baby on the way and a crown on her head. Your mother would be so proud if she could see you, once she got over her surprise. She would like the king, I’m sure of it.”
“Do you like the king?”
“He is very…” He trails off.
Very big. Very loud. Very strong. Very intimidating. Very kind. Very everything.
“He is, isn’t he?”
“He’s not the man I would have expected you to marry, but I don’t think I could ever have imagined who would be right for my Isavelle. He’ll be a good father to your little one, I think.”
His words are bittersweet because he hasn’t actually said that he likes Zabriel. But it’s enough that he’s happy for me.
“I’m sorry Anise won’t be coming home with you, if Captain Ashton accepts her. I hate to think of you in that cottage all alone. You can always move closer to the city if you wish.”
“No, Isavelle. I shan’t stay here.”
“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound as crestfallen as I feel.
A strained silence stretches between us, and I can’t help but feel guilty about how New Maledin has taken Dad’s entire family from him, one way or another. Waylen was so young, and no doubt Dad wasn’t ready to cease be a father to him or Anise so soon.
“Are you happy here, my girl?” he murmurs into my hair.
“I am,” I whisper.
“Anise will love her wyvern, and Waylen is in the skies. I suppose all my children were meant to be on the wing, one way or another.” He digs around behind him and pulls out another wooden figurine.
“Here’s one I was working on earlier. It’s not very good, and I’m sorry it’s not much of a wedding present for you and your husband. I won’t finish it if you don’t like it.”
In his hands, he cradles a wooden sculpture the size of two of Zabriel’s fists.
“It’s our dragons,” I exclaim. “It’s Scourge and Esmeral. How did you capture them so perfectly?” Scourge has his wings curved protectively around Esmeral. She’s stretching up to press her head lovingly against Scourge’s jaw. The Maledinni don’t speak about being “in love,” but if they did, they would say that this carving depicts two dragons in love.
The carving isn’t finished yet, but he’s already begun to carefully etch their scales and refine their pointed teeth.
“Do you like it?” Dad asks uncertainly.
“It’s wonderful. Zabriel will love it too. It looks just like them.”
“I’m glad you think so. I’ve spent all the Dragon Games studying them so I get their looks just right.”
I grow misty-eyed looking at them, and thinking about Dad returning to Amriste by himself. “Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own?”
Dad pats my hair. “Don’t cry over your old dad being all alone in that cottage. I have a whole village to look after me, and I will look after them. I want people around me who have known me all my life. If I lived anywhere else, then I would be truly alone.”