ESSA
The following night, I went to see Othura.
The mad dragon cell lay deep in the dungeons of the palace.
I spent quite a while wandering through the catacombs to find it, my journey lit only by the faint illumination from the glowstone I carried.
The only sounds were my footfalls, the occasional drip of water, and the disquieting skitter of rodents in the shadows.
When at last I came upon the door, I found a full twenty Lacunae guarding it.
They stood at attention, lined up in perfect rows and remaining completely still and silent, more like statues than men.
I wondered, not for the first time, what fell magick from the void Kortoi used to produce and sustain these soldiers.
Were they men? Were they possessed? Were they not human at all?
In all my years, I’d never seen one lounging off duty or with his helmet off.
But I knew they could bleed and die, and I wasn’t afraid of them. Or at least, I wasn’t going to show it.
“Stand aside and let me speak to my dragon in private,” I commanded. I anticipated they might balk at the order. But to my surprise, one of them replied, “Yes, Your Majesty,” in a deep, hollow-sounding voice. They turned, moving in lockstep as they marched some distance down the hall.
In the other direction, the hallway dead-ended in a narrow window—just an arrow slit, really—but the moonlight shining through it illuminated a thick, lead-encased door, which had its own matching slit. I put my face to it now and peered through, calling out with simnal.
Othura?
I almost gasped when one of her glowing orange eyes popped into view, just on the other side of the door.
Yes, Dear Heart?
Are you okay?
I’m unhurt. And there are plenty of delicious rats down here…
Othura… ever the optimist.
But how are you? she asked. I’ve been so worried.
They plan to offer me the bydrune and the crown, I said.
Othura snorted. And thereby give their government the veneer of legitimacy—while keeping you in a golden cage, and me in a lead one.
They would set you free, I said. I’d make sure of it. No queen of Maethalia could exist with her dragon behind bars.
Othura’s fiery eye blinked. So they want you for their queen. Is that what you want?
Suddenly, the world blurred as tears filled my eyes. For I knew I couldn’t keep the truth from her, even as I tried to keep it from myself.
I just want Charlie.
Oh, Dear Heart. I know…
A sob wracked my chest, so hard it hurt.
And the worst part is, there are moments when I’ve almost thought I could feel him. With the simnal. Not his voice not, not words but…
I felt Othura’s comforting energy surround me. Mentally, she was wrapping me in her wings.
Spirits persist even when the body goes, she said. And there is no doubt that Charlie’s would try to look after you—for as long as he can, at least, before he flies.
I shook my head. I just… I’m having the hardest time believing that our story ends that way. With him, dead in the ashes. And me, just… here another wave of sobs shook my body. …leaving him.
You did what you had to do, Othura soothed. What should you have done? Stayed to be captured? He wouldn’t have wanted that.
But he’d have never left me, I said. Even if I were dead. Even if it were just my body.
You don’t know that, Othura said.
I do know it. And so do you.
That was the thing between dragon and rider; there could be no secrets.
Othura hoomed sadly. He was a good man. And you are a good woman, Dear Heart. We all do what we must. And that’s what he would want for you. To do what you have to do. For yourself. For Maethalia.
I sighed, my forehead pressed against the cool metal of the door.
So what will you do? Othura asked gently.
That depends, I said. Any chance you can break out of there? I’ve got a hundred or so villains I’d like you to eat.
I felt her amusement. I’d love nothing more. But alas, this chamber was built artfully, and with enchantment besides. It’s nothing my claws or strength or wind can break.
That’s what I thought, I sighed. Then I guess I’ll have to eat them up myself…
Othura gave a rueful huff. Just promise me you won’t do anything foolish.
I reached out and touched her snout through the bars. I’ll make no such vow, I said. But I promise you this. Whatever foolish thing I do, I’ll win.
“Essaphine?” a voice called out of the darkness behind me and I wheeled, startled, my hand on the hilt of my sword.
“Essa, is that you?” The voice was hoarse. Familiar.
I squinted into the darkness and saw a barred door on the wall opposite Othura’s cell. A face peered out from it between the bars. I glimpsed a red beard shot through with gray and bright green eyes that glinted with some alarming energy—starvation, or desperation, or madness.
“Essa, it’s me!”
I approached cautiously.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” the man asked. He was gaunt. Filthy.
I shook my head.
“Master Bargate,” he said.
I repressed a gasp. Now that he said his name, I could see it plainly. It was Kennak Bargate, headmaster of the Madran—the school that taught newly-bonded aspirants to become Skrathan. Aside from Auntie, he’d been my primary teacher growing up.
He’d always cut a dashing figure, tall with flowing red hair and a roguish smile, pulling incredible maneuvers on his massive sagittan that most of us wannabe Skrathan could only dream of.
He was the sort of leader that the girls fell in love with and the boys aspired to become.
Seeing him like this—dirty, starved, and locked away—made my heart hurt.
“What have they done to you?” I asked before I could think better of it.
He chuckled, his sparkling smile returning despite his surroundings.
“They’ve been far kinder to me than I would be to them, if I had my way.
I was away from Charcain, visiting the Oracle at Umsir when I learned of the attack via simnal.
I hurried back here, but I was too late.
Your mother had already fallen. The other Skrathan, scattered.
But my anger got the better of my judgement, and I joined the fight.
My dragon and I battled as long as we could, but eventually, they overpowered us.
Then they captured me and stuck me down here. ”
I took a look at the door to his cell. It wasn’t quite as robust as the mad dragon cell, but it was close. I looked down the hall, toward the host of waiting Lacunae.
“Don’t think of breaking me out now,” he said quietly. “That would only cause you more problems. They wish to make you queen, yes? When they do, you can negotiate my release then.”
I nodded. “Will you be okay until then?”
“If you manage to have me sent a plate of decent food, a pitcher of clean water, and a bottle of wine, I won’t say no,” he said.
“Otherwise, yes. I’m fine. You have enough to worry about without me to consider.
Just know that I’m here. And when the time comes, I’ll be ready to help you rebuild the Skrathan and make these crooked-cocked weasels pay for what they’ve done. ”
I gave a wan smile. “Thank you, Master Bargate. I’ll do what I can. It’s good to see your face.”
“And yours,” he smiled, and there was a flash in his eyes that might have been tears. “Now go. I’ll be fine.”
I went to leave, but I’d only gone a few steps when he called my name once more.
“Essa,” he said, and I turned back.
The mischief and humor was gone from his face now. He looked as grim as I felt.
“You are among wolves in this place, Essa,” he said. “Trust no one. No one.”
I made my way up from the bowels of the palace, led by the light of my glowstone. I felt weary, but too restless to go back to my chambers and sleep. So, I decided to explore the palace and determine the extent of the damage.
Rebuilding it properly would be one of my first orders of business as queen, and the destruction was significant.
Stairs I used to trot down as a girl were now clogged with rubble.
Hallways ended in stars and wind. Whole towers and wings were simply gone.
I decided to make a survey of all the places in the palace I used to frequent.
The kitchens where I used to steal rolls and rashers of bacon from the cooks were still there, thank the gods.
My old nursery on the lower east wing remained, though some breach in the ceiling had admitted water, making the wood floor buckle.
My old chambers were completely gone, as was the tower devoted to Skrathan leadership.
The old study where I used to take my lessons remained, along with the window seat where I’d first kissed Braimar—though I rather wished it had been destroyed.
There was one last place I wanted to check on, but I dreaded going there.
My mother’s chambers. I still had questions about the days leading up to her death.
Did she have any suspicions about her inner circle before their betrayal?
Had she left behind any hints about what I should do as queen?
We’d shared a tender moment as she died, but in many ways, we’d always been very different—and, at the same time, perhaps too much alike.
Now that she was gone, she felt more elusive as ever, but as I prepared to assume her throne, I longed to feel close to her, to reach some understanding of the woman she was, and the sort of woman I might become.
So up the long, winding staircase I went, my legs aching with the ascent.
Mother’s chambers were near the top of the palace’s central tower, and it was a long way up.
I was perhaps halfway up the staircase, not yet out of the main part of the castle, when I heard faint voices down a hallway.
I paused, peering in that direction. The hallway ended in a balcony, and out there in the moonlight, a pair of figures stood.