Chapter 2 Skylar #2
She slams the poster down on the desk—wooden, which is almost impossible to come by in Vatra, and therefore coveted.
He doesn’t even look at it as he takes a bag of money from his pocket, throws it down next to his dragonglass sculpture.
“Did you know about this?” she demands.
Finally, he glances down at the poster. The paper is faded, the edges torn, but it reads clearly all the same.
Aldric pushes the poster away, slumps into his chair behind the desk. “Of course I knew about it. The whole Arach-damned country knows about it. This isn’t a new thing, Sugarplum—where have you been?”
And, yes, okay, she knew about conscription, knew that the king has been rounding up Blooded to serve in his army, but until this point it’s always seemed like a vague concept, happening to people other than them.
She doesn’t know anyone who has been taken—the virtue of moving around so much, perhaps.
Aldric and Cam, the only Blooded in their troupe, aren’t even on the Blooded Register the royals claim is mandatory.
Given the Blooded claim to have inherited their powers from the dragons themselves, she’d expect them to be more highly valued in society—but right now, being Bloodless is clearly the way forward.
“And yet you brought us here. Into danger.”
“Well, you’re not in danger,” he says pointedly.
She opens her mouth, closes it again. He’s right, she tells herself.
You are not Blooded, Skylar.
Her mother’s voice. She’s not heard it in fifteen years, since her mother was killed, but she can conjure those words easily enough—the thing her mother drilled into her, over and over. Sometimes accompanied by a sad shake of her head or a hand, running down Skylar’s hair.
Aldric gives a satisfied nod at whatever he sees on Skylar’s face. “It was a calculated risk,” he continues. “And, look, we’ve made more than a usual week in one show.” He gestures to the money bag on the desk. “I told you, didn’t I? Everyone is flocking here because of the duel.”
Right. The duel that she doesn’t give two shits about.
But apparently the rest of the country wants to watch almighty Prince Zryan kill the witch princess for sport.
And that’s why Aldric brought them here weeks ago, three months before the duel was even due to start.
Because it’s not just the duel itself—there’s the so-called grand arrival, the parade—plenty of opportunities to bulk up their takings, while the heirs are being shown off in the weeks counting down to the fight.
We might get to see the dragons, Lar. She can hear the wistful longing in Cam’s voice, remembers how his warm brown eyes had lit up.
She twists the ring on her finger—the one he found among Izzo’s takings. A black band with a glittering ruby stone. For you, O Mighty Dagger Queen.
She rolled her eyes. What am I supposed to do with a ring?
It’s a circle. Circles are eternal. He gave her one of those floppy smiles—the type he used when he was winding her up. Like our friendship.
She shoved at him, laughing. You’re such a nerd. But she put the ring on, anyway.
“Cam is missing,” she says to Aldric. “He’s gone—don’t you get that?”
Stand trial before the king. Is that what’s happened?
Has he been taken? Because Cam is Blooded.
And he’s a Projector. One of the more common Blooded orders.
Useful for Aldric—because Cam had been able to Project into people’s minds, advertising their performances, while staying out of harm’s way—and warn them if he saw trouble approaching.
Not much use in a fight, which presumably is why Projectors haven’t been recruited before. So why now?
Aldric waves an unconcerned hand in the air. “He might show up.”
But Skylar doesn’t think so—because she knows Cam.
Her best friend, the one person in the entire world she loves.
He wouldn’t have left her—and if he’d gone somewhere of his own accord, he would have Projected a thought to her, telling her he was okay.
She’d snuck out once on her own, when she was about fourteen.
He went absolutely ballistic when she got back—and they agreed, they wouldn’t do it again without telling each other.
Then there’s the other thing—something she told Aldric last night, though he brushed it off. The flash of fear she felt—his last Projection to her, a jumble of thoughts that meant one thing. He was afraid.
“And if he doesn’t?” Skylar demands.
Aldric shrugs. “Then he’s been taken.” Skylar feels anger surge in her veins. She knows Aldric is a selfish bastard, but this is Cam they are talking about. “Now, now, Sugarplum,” he says, catching sight of her expression. “There’s nothing I can do, is there?”
“You can find him. We can look for him. Before he stands trial.”
“That whole trial business is nonsense,” Aldric says mildly. “Ask anyone. The poor sods they find are shipped off to the camps, no trial needed.”
Skylar stares at him. How can he just be sitting there, saying this? She and Cam have been with him the longest, after he lost two of his previous crew—one retired, one, if Skylar is right about it, killed for trying to leave.
Well, there’s your clue, Lar Lar.
Do not call me Lar Lar. An echo of a real conversation now, one in her tent, where she sat on her bed, arms folded tightly. What were they? About twelve?
“Why are they even conscripting?” Skylar asks. “If they are so sure that their prick of a dragon rider is going to win the duel, what’s the point of building an army?” Because isn’t that the whole reason the duel even exists—to stop Vatra and Arturea going to war over the Heart?
“You know, I’ve been wondering that, too.” He’s unconcerned, though. Mild curiosity, nothing more.
“Fine.” She turns to leave the tent. Outside, she hears Amara’s annoying girlish laugh. “If you’re doing nothing, then I will.”
Because Cam might not be gone. He might have run into trouble yesterday after the performance. Guards were crawling the streets, and she’s heard rumors of what they can do. And she knows firsthand, doesn’t she, that the Dreki, the king’s elite royal guards, are much worse.
Skylar makes to storm out, but Aldric is on his feet and in front of her quicker than you can say dragon stones. His illusion shifts in front of her, making him look bigger, more imposing.
“You’d be stupid to head out there alone,” he says bluntly. “You don’t know this city, it’ll burn you alive.”
“Good thing fire dragons are extinct then, isn’t it?”
“You’re not going.”
She gives him a slow, humorless grin. “I’d like to see you stop me.” She slides the pin out of her hair for emphasis, tapping it against her palm. The only thing she has of her mother’s—and it’s come in handy more than once. A weapon she always has on her, and one people are never prepared for.
Aldric’s eyes flicker to it. “Don’t forget who took you in. You owe me, Sugarplum.”
She remembers well enough. He found her when she was only ten years old: the night her mother was murdered by the Dreki.
Hunted down to the far corners of Vatra, because of what she was.
She remembers her mother shoving the pin into her hands, telling her to run.
Remembers turning back once, to see one of the Dreki slice a blade across her mother’s throat.
She shuts her brain down—she’s taught herself to avoid thinking of that night. Fifteen years ago, and she’s told no one what really happened, not even Cam.
“Yeah,” she says. “You took me in. And I’ve more than paid you back.” She reaches around him, taking one of the coins out of the pouch on his desk. Both for emphasis and because it might come in handy for a bribe.
Aldric doesn’t try to stop her—maybe he knows he can’t.
He was all for her training with Torin when she’d insisted, but now she wonders if he regrets it.
They all know basic self-defense, in case they’re caught stealing and things get ugly.
But Skylar went one step further—and made Torin teach her how to really fight—with her hands, weapons, anything.
Because she does not want to be murdered the way her mother was.
Aldric folds his arms. “If you walk out this tent, don’t expect to come back to camp tonight.”
Skylar snorts. She might need him for safety, but he needs her just as much—she’s the star performer. Without her he only has a thief, a bodyguard, and half an act. No way he isn’t going to let her come back.
She strides right on past him. “Screw you.”
If he won’t help, fine. She’ll find Cam herself—and burn the whole Arach-damned city if she has to.