Chapter 12
VAELA
“So what exactly is the play here?” I asked quietly, staring at Trystan across the small wooden table of the still-to-be repaired pub. A candle flickered between us, painting his face in golden shadows. “Intercept it from town?”
Trystan shook his head, sipping the last of his Drakon Stout. “That’s too dangerous.”
I snorted. “I’ll say.” Trying to take down the Wretch anywhere near Ember Ridge would likely result in injuries, never mind damage to the town.
And most folks would probably appreciate not having to rebuild this close to winter.
“If, by the stars, you actually managed to bring the Wretch down, it would crash through half the square. Not to mention the kind of fight it would put up. Has your captain even considered that?”
“Speaking of fights,” he said, gesturing toward the damaged courtyard. “You clearly have enough of that going on around here.”
I gave him a flat look. “It’s always a hazard of the migration. But a regular-sized dragon is one thing. The Wretch—”
Ilona drew near with an empty tray on her hip, gray curls piled high on her head, and I trailed off.
“Anything else over here?”
“Another round, please, m’lady,” Trystan said, winking at her. She rolled her eyes in response, giving him a cheeky grin as she walked away with our empty tankards.
Ilona had admitted us into the Wiggly Dragon Tooth when I’d knocked earlier in the evening.
She’d given Trystan a long up and down look as he’d stood by my shoulder.
Even without his armor, it was clear he wasn’t a local.
But all he had to do was flash his smile and she was pulling the door wider.
There were half a dozen other people tucked into nooks inside the pub, seemingly conducting secret business of their own.
None of them seemed to be kingsguard, which meant Trystan and I were free to talk.
Mostly.
“What happened here anyway?” he asked, gesturing to the debris in the courtyard as we waited for Ilona to return with our drinks. Everything still smelled vaguely of char and campfire.
“A little wrangling incident,” I said. “A dragon crashed down onto the roof, rolled into the courtyard, and got a little flame happy.”
Trystan’s eyebrow arched. “Was anyone hurt?”
I thought briefly of Eden frozen in fear. Standing among the flames. “Thankfully, nothing serious,” I said.
Ilona returned with full tankards, setting them down in front of us. When she was gone, Trystan ran his thumb along the pewter dragon’s tail handle on his mug. “According to palace historians, the Wretch sets down somewhere in these mountains to rest from the first leg of its journey.”
“And that’s where you plan to catch it?”
He nodded.
I sat back in my chair, rubbing my jaw.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
I sighed, setting my forearms against the table. “Nothing. I suppose that’s exactly how I would go about it, too. If I’d been handed this task.”
He nodded, seeming more assured.
“But don’t get me wrong,” I said pointedly. “No amount of money could convince me to follow the Wretch into these mountains.”
“I’m sure some amount of money.”
“Trystan.”
“I know.” He took a long sip from his tankard. “Trust me, I know.”
He wasn’t here because of money. He was here because it was his job.
Because he’d signed up to do whatever it took to protect Cai’amar and the royal family.
I rubbed my face. “Since when are the kingsguard in the habit of hunting wild dragons?” I asked.
“Ones being a nuisance, sure. To relocate them further from human settlements. But that’s not what’s happening here, is it? The Wretch isn’t bothering anyone.”
For the first time since we sat down, Trystan looked uneasy.
He clutched his tankard, glancing around at the few other patrons in the pub, taking stock of them.
When he turned back to me, his face had grown serious.
“You didn’t hear it from me,” he began, lowering his voice to something less than a whisper, “but the king intends to tame the beast.”
My heart thumped. Had the royal family lost their minds? “Why would he attempt that?”
Trystan’s lips twisted. “I suppose because he’s heard the rumors. The strength. The ferocity. He wants a dragon capable of withstanding anything.”
Anything… Seraphine’s whispers from the square echoed in my head. I heard that its scales are so thick no magic can pierce its hide.
“The king’s worried about magic?”
Trystan’s face paled, his jaw clenched tight. He looked more unnerved than I’d ever seen him. “There are rumblings.”
“Rumblings?” I whispered, leaning closer, like that might make it easier to speak of such things.
“Of ill tidings along the border. Some sort of unrest. The council was still waiting for word of the cause when my company was dispatched.”
I frowned at him, propping my head up with my hand. “Whatever these rumblings are, we haven’t heard anything in these parts.”
“And you won’t, if the king can avoid it. The fastest way to spark unease across the land is with whispers that cannot be confirmed or denied. Perhaps it will turn out to be nothing in the end. But if it should be more… If magic is seeping unchecked across our borders, the king wants to be ready.”
Ready to defend Cai’amar from something none of us understood.
“And a dragon like this…” Trystan huffed a laugh. “Well, there isn’t a bigger show of force, is there?”
“Does he know that that dragon isn’t a pet? Has someone told him how dangerous it will be to even attempt to tame it?”
Trystan shot me a wry grin. “When you grow up being told dragon blood runs in your veins, I don’t think you care much what people say.
The Dragon King wants the biggest dragon of them all.
” Trystan held his arms out in a grand fashion.
“So the kingsguard has been ordered to deliver him such a dragon.”
Unease ran through me at his words. If I’d learned anything after all these years wrangling, it was that a bond could not be forced.
Dragons were too intelligent for that. If they wanted to bond with a rider and live among humans, they would.
And if they didn’t… They would fight, and that was always a messy affair.
Without a mutual respect between rider and dragon, I didn’t know how the king expected to sit upon the Wretch, never mind actually ride the thing. “Well, it’s not far now,” I murmured. “You can already hear the roars on the wind.”
“How long do you think we have?” Trystan asked. “A few days still?”
I shrugged. “Maybe less.” I studied his expression.
He’d shed his armor, but he still carried his sword at his waist. A sword that was nothing more than a twig to a dragon like the one they were attempting to capture.
I thought of our days as children together, to memories of throwing ourselves on the backs of wild horses and getting tossed.
I remembered jumping right back up with a smile, only to do it all over again.
There would be no jumping back up against a dragon like this, and my concern for him grew. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”
His expression softened, a teasing smile curling his lips. “You don’t have to worry about me, little sister. If I recall, I’ve always been the one to bail you out of trouble.”
“This isn’t a little trouble in a capital pub,” I said seriously. “The mountains aren’t the same as the palace grounds. And this is no ordinary dragon.”
“I realize that.”
“No, Trystan. I don’t think any of you do. Listen, some dragons aren’t meant to be ridden,” I said. “It’s just a plain fact. And they’re certainly not meant to be caught.”
If Trystan was any more concerned by my words, he didn’t let it show. But I knew a healthy dose of fear lived beneath his breastbone. For no amount of metal, no sigil of the king, was going to halt the Wretch’s fire. And as handsome and good-natured as Trystan was, he was no fool.
“The goal is to capture it from a distance.” He reached out to squeeze my hand. To assuage my fears. “If all goes well—”
“If,” I said. “I hate that word.”
Even if they managed to capture the thing, they still had to somehow subdue it long enough to make the journey back to the capital, where the palace dragon tamers could work with the creature. A lot of things in that equation had to go exactly right for no one to get hurt.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder, forcing a bright smile.
“All will be well. Besides, I’m supposed to be the one worrying about you.
When did you grow so risk-averse? The Vaela I know would have been chomping at the bit to get a front row seat to the capturing of the Wretch.
Stars, you’d be in there yourself if the kingsguard would allow it. ”
I sighed. That girl he was talking about had learned that the older you get, the harder you fall.
And with each injury, it was more difficult to stitch yourself back together.
I flexed my hand, feeling the puncture wound in my palm.
The skin was tight, already trying to knot itself back together thanks to Eden’s handiwork.
But what if next time there was no stitching me back together?
Every year that passed, I realized that became more of a reality.
“Vaela?” He tilted his head. “What happened to the girl who’d jump on the back of wild horses?”
I huffed a laugh and tilted my head, giving him a pointed look. “She broke her leg in multiple places, remember?”
Trystan hummed, thumping his hand against the side of his tankard. He didn’t like talking about the accident. Neither did I, most of the time. It did nothing but stir up painful memories.
“Any other person would have learned their lesson back then,” I said.
“And did you?” he quipped, the corner of his lips twitching.
We both knew the answer to that. I’d never let the injury limit me in any way.
I’d gotten out of bed the following week and stumbled right out the door after Trystan, back to the horse yard.
It certainly hadn’t stopped me from continuing to put my life on the line for no reason but my own stupidity.
It was all a bit of fun, I used to think. All a bit of a rush.
Because if the worst was to happen, it’s not like there’d be a line-up of people left behind to mourn me.
Trystan would, for a time. And I’d be sorry to hurt him.
But our mother was gone and our father would probably regard that letter with the same stern grimace he always wore when it came to me, right before casting it aside.
There was no one else in my life to worry about hurting. And that had led me to being reckless at times.
My thoughts flashed briefly to Eden with her ear pressed to Min’s chest. To the wonder I’d seen in her eyes earlier as she’d listened to Min’s heart sing. To the genuine sympathy she’d offered when she understood the reality of Min’s situation.
For a beat, I couldn’t shake Eden from my thoughts.
It was getting harder with every day that passed.
I flexed my hand again, the wound smarting.
Perhaps there was more than a rush to worry about now.
Perhaps I wanted someone to worry for me.
To tell me I was reckless and remind me to be careful and…
I squeezed Trystan’s hand again. “Just don’t make me drag your body back to Father. He already thinks so little of me.”
Trystan’s face fell. His mouth dropped open, like he meant to say something to dismiss that sad reality, but we both knew it was true.
We tended not to speak of our father past the expected pleasantries: the old man was alive and well, conquering the council with the best of them, eager to sit at the right hand of the king.
After a long beat, Trystan said, “He’ll be glad to know that I’ve seen you. That you’re well.”
“He’ll be happier if you return to him.” The golden son. I’d never begrudged him his position. Trystan had always cared for me, supported me. And he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. The weight of Father’s expectations.
I had none of that to weigh me down.
But to deliver the news that Trystan had been wounded or… worse? My father would never forgive me for that. Thankfully, Trystan seemed to understand.
He picked up his tankard and downed it in two massive gulps. “I’ll be careful. Now, how about another drink?”