Chapter 1 #2
“I knew you needed me.” Vorik inclined his head. “That’s why I came.”
“You came because ten archers stood at the top of the mine shaft with their bows pointed at you when you crawled out,” Fel said.
“Of course,” Vorik murmured, with a smile.
Syla snorted. They both knew Vorik could have escaped if he’d wanted to. And Fel, who’d fought Vorik numerous times, knew it too—even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“Are turtle shells what Wreylith is in the mood for?” Vorik asked.
“She said she would prefer turtle eggs,” Syla said, “but it’s not the season.”
Vorik gazed up at the top of the wheelhouse, then looked toward where Agrevlari continued to float, letting the ship pull him along like a very large fishing lure. “Interesting. Do you think…”
He trailed off when Major Hixun walked up with Captain Vonla, her uniform crisp and her black hair pulled back in a flawless bun.
Though she had a few bruises on her face, and her forearm was bandaged, part of the wrap visible under her sleeve, she looked impeccable, especially given the days at sea, the battles, and the sinking of their original ship.
Syla, who’d lost her trunk of clothing to the river, felt less well-groomed.
She’d borrowed a few serviceable items from Lady Abrya, since she doubted she would be able to walk straight up to her suite in the castle, but wished she could go home to her closet, her bathtub, and her books.
Reading historical accountings of castle coups and battles for the throne was far more appealing than being involved in them.
“We’ll round the point soon, Your Majesty,” Major Hixun said.
The fleet commander had died in one of the battles, and Hixun seemed to be jointly in charge with a senior officer that Lord Oyenar had sent along.
“We’ve surprisingly not yet seen any ships out patrolling even the protected waters along the coast of Castle Island.
Is there any chance the information you received about dozens of Kingdom vessels being summoned from other islands could be in error? ” He looked toward Wreylith.
Syla had been letting people assume her dragon ally had been the one to originally report the changing of the flag on Garden Castle and the status of the fleet in Sky Torn Harbor.
It was Vorik and Agrevlari who’d flown over the area and reported the news to her.
She, of course, believed Vorik fully, but others might not consider her prisoner a reliable source.
It amused her that they believed her sword-iglet-distracted dragon to be one.
“I don’t think so. Hold on.” Syla held up a finger as she silently asked, Wreylith, will you fly ahead again and get an update on what we’re in for when we arrive?
Certainly. Do you wish to accompany me?
Yes, but my bodyguard might object.
Wreylith stretched her neck toward them, startling Syla by plucking her up and tossing her onto her back. It happened so quickly that Syla barely had the chance to flatten her spectacles to her face so they wouldn’t fall off.
“Your Majesty!” several alarmed voices cried.
Even Vorik blinked in surprise.
Fel swore and reached for his mace before seeming to realize he couldn’t attack his charge’s dragon ally. “Where are you going, Syla?” he barked, dropping the Your Majesty.
“To scout,” Syla called as Wreylith bunched her muscles and launched from the top of the wheelhouse.
Syla flattened her palms to the dragon’s scales and extended tendrils of magic like anchors to hold herself in place.
“Queens don’t scout!” Fel called.
“I’ll go with her,” Vorik said and ran toward the stern of the ship.
“Prisoners don’t scout either,” Hixun said, and waved for men to intercept them.
Vorik called upon his magically enhanced strength and agility to somersault over the heads of the men racing toward him.
He alighted on the railing, then leaped overboard as Agrevlari rolled onto his belly.
Vorik landed on his back a second before the green dragon flapped his wings rapidly, momentarily looking more like a duck, as he took off from the water, than a majestic predator.
Once he gained altitude, his wingbeats grew calmer and more powerful as he flew after Wreylith.
The red dragon turned her head and roared at him. It didn’t sound like an invitation.
Agrevlari roared back. It sounded… playful.
“I believe our dragons are flirting,” Vorik called as Agrevlari caught up with Wreylith so that they could fly side-by-side toward Castle Island.
“Your dragon is flirting. Mine wants to tear his tail off.”
“I don’t think so.” Vorik shook his head. “She let him catch up.”
Wreylith roared again and breathed fire in his direction.
“It’s easier to roast someone who’s nearby,” Syla said.
Vorik shook his head, smiling slightly, like someone who knew a secret.
The two dragons didn’t fly together for long.
Wreylith cut toward the island to fly across it instead of around, the way the ships would have to travel.
She and Syla passed through the translucent barrier, the magic briefly rippling over skin and scale but doing nothing to keep them out.
Agrevlari had to fly upward so that he could soar over the island above the barrier.
They flew over the farms, fruit and berry orchards, and small towns between the southwestern shoreline and the northeastern side of the island where the populous capital sprawled along Sky Torn Harbor with the castle perched on the bluff overlooking it all.
Since they were coming in from the back side, Syla didn’t see the flag at first, but she trusted Vorik had reported accurately, that her royal-blue Moonmark banner had been replaced by the yellow of Fograth’s family.
What she did see immediately was the fleet. With every mooring spot along every dock occupied and dozens more warships in the protected waters nearby, it looked like all the vessels in the Kingdom fleet had been called to Castle Island.
Syla glowered and fumed. “While we were fighting stormers and dragons at Harvest Island and Bogberry Island, and could have used help, the island lords were sending their ships here for a cursed coup.”
If another rules your kingdom, Wreylith said, will you still be able to acquire a cave for me and start a horn-hog farm?
“Probably not.” Syla would be busy dodging assassins that would be sent to ensure she wasn’t an ongoing threat to the new ruler.
That’s a problem.
Wreylith’s cave wasn’t Syla’s primary concern, but she had told the dragon that she would find something on land owned by the crown that would suffice. “I know. We’re not going to let Lord Fograth remain in power. Trust me.”
She’d never wanted the throne, but she wouldn’t stand by while someone stole it from her family.
The Moonmarks had ruled for centuries—since the gods themselves had given the magical moon birthmarks to her ancestors and placed them in charge.
Besides, she would do a better job for the people than someone ambitious enough to stage a coup.
Shall I fly down and set fire to all those vessels? Wreylith angled toward the harbor.
By now, people had noticed the dragon in the sky. Syla couldn’t hear the shouts, but she could pick out soldiers on the castle walls and in the watchtowers around the harbor as men ran to weapons stations.
“No. Those are our ships.” Syla touched her chest. “We’ve already been devastated by the stormers—and they’ll probably attack again once they recover from the last battle.
We can’t further destroy ourselves and our ability to withstand invasions by sinking our own ships and killing our own people.
” Frustration burbled in her as the truth of her words made her realize how difficult it would be to take back control.
If Fograth had the loyalty of the Royal Fleet…
A boom came from below.
They presume to fire at me! The cannonball sailed past far to the side, but Wreylith roared with indignation.
More booms came from below.
“Better get out of there, Syla!” Vorik called from above, the words barely audible across the distance.
Instead, Wreylith dove toward the harbor, smoke wafting from her nostrils.
“Don’t attack,” Syla blurted, pressing her hands harder into the dragon’s scales. “Please. We’ll find another way.”
Wreylith continued to dive.
“I’ll handle this,” Syla hurried to say, instinctively willing magic into the dragon, not only anchors but power meant to make her words resonate, to sway her ally.
“I’ll take back the throne, find you a cave, and get you all the livestock you can eat.
Just don’t set fire to my capital or my fleet.
” The doubt that she could rightfully call either hers anymore crept into her mind, but she wouldn’t accept defeat or give up her title without a fight. “Please!” she added. “I have a plan!”
She did not, but she would come up with one quickly. She had to.
Wreylith growled, but she did rise from her dive.
Syla sensed that it was more her magic than her words that swayed the dragon, convincing Wreylith to bank and fly back the way they’d come as more cannonballs lofted past around them.
Syla wasn’t sure what she’d done, as she knew a dragon’s power was far greater than a human’s, even a human with the gods-gift, but Wreylith headed back toward the Fanged Whale.
She didn’t look pleased about it, however, and flapped her wings hard, her back stiff.
Smoke continued to waft from her nostrils, and she gave Syla a cool look over her shoulder, her golden eyes glowing, before descending toward the ship.
Instead of landing, Wreylith tilted sideways, startling Syla again.
The dragon’s magic sliced through the tendrils keeping Syla mounted, and she fell toward the deck, crying out with alarm.
Fel cursed and ran over to catch her. As big and sturdy as he was, her weight dropping from the sky sent him to one knee.
Though he’d softened her landing, he ended up spilling her onto the deck, and she rolled to an ungainly stop before the weapons platform.
Still sitting on it, Aunt Tibby gaped down at her.
The entire crew was gaping at her, and heat flushed Syla’s cheeks as Wreylith flew off without a word.
“What happened?” Captain Vonla looked from Syla to the departing dragon, who banked and headed in the direction of Harvest Island.
“Wreylith wasn’t pleased that I asked her not to light the fleet on fire.” Syla grabbed the weapons platform for support and pulled herself to her feet. Silently, she admitted she had done more than ask though she wasn’t certain how her magic had affected the dragon.
A shadow fell over the deck. Vorik jumped off Agrevlari’s back a moment before his dragon landed calmly on the wheelhouse. There wasn’t any smoke wafting from his nostrils.
“I think it’s more than that.” With his keen hearing, Vorik must have caught her comment.
“I know,” Syla said, though she was surprised he’d been able to sense her using her magic from that far away.
“You know?” Vorik regarded her curiously. “She told you?”
Wait, were they talking about different things?
“Told me what?” Syla asked.
“I believe your dragon is pregnant.”