ESSA
Apale slash of moonlight stretched across the floor as the heavy door to the mad dragon cell creaked open. The Lacunae and Gray Brother jailors scattered as Othura burst out. She snorted proudly, then swung her head close so I could throw my arm around her neck in an embrace.
“I’ll never let anyone lock you up again, I promise,” I whispered into her scales.
She was sniffing my hair.
Are you alright, Dear Heart? The bydrune… the poison…? It’s infuriating having no simnal and not knowing what’s going on.
I didn’t have to answer with words. I merely opened my mind and let my memories flash before us.
The bydrune. The room of dead noblemen. Braimar being stabbed.
Charlie returning. Me sending him away. And of course, she could tell by how heavily I was leaning on her that the poison was still taking a heavy toll on me. I could barely stay on my feet.
Othura could only fix one eye on me at a time, but it was wide with surprise.
A lot has happened… she said.
It has.
But you’re okay?
I nodded. The motion made me feel woozy. I’d slept the afternoon away following the bydrune, and had awakened now, in the night, with an urgent need to see my dragon set free. I still felt like shite—but the sleep I’d gotten had at least left me feeling like I would survive.
“There’s much to do,” I started. “First—”
“Essaphine?”
I turned. Master Bargate’s gaunt, red-bearded face poked out from between the bars of the cell opposite Othura’s. Filthy and pale as he was, I thought again how he looked like a tormented soul from the void—but his blue eyes were as sharp as ever, as he motioned me over.
“Master Bargate,” I said, approaching.
He held the bars, and I saw such tension in his filthy, scabbed hands that it seemed he was trying to tear the door down himself.
“The time has come, Essa,” he whispered. “This is the day of your coronation, no?”
“It is,” I said cautiously.
He gave the bars a jerk. “Then it’s time you set me free.”
When he saw my hesitation, he pressed:
“Your peril is coming, Essa. From all sides. You’ll need me with you. You’ll need a Skrathan you can trust.”
That was just the thing. Auntie had exhorted me to free Bargate.
And I didn’t know if I could trust her anymore—since Kortoi clearly knew of our plan to poison him.
To be fair, the Prelate might have learned of my intentions by scrying.
Still, I was glad I hadn’t told Auntie of my plan to poison the nobles.
And if I couldn’t trust Auntie, that meant I couldn’t trust Bargate either… didn’t it?
“You seem to know much for a man who’s been locked in a dungeon,” I said.
“The guards talk,” Bargate said earnestly.
I arched an eyebrow. “The Gray Brothers and the Lacunae?” Most Gray Brothers had taken a vow of silence. And Lacunae were so taciturn, there were rumors most of them were voiceless shades. Judging from the look on his face, Bargate seemed to realize the absurdity of his lie right away.
“And scrying,” he admitted. “There’s a puddle of water in my cell…”
If those words were meant to soften my heart, they had the opposite effect. I’d respected Master Bargate in school. He’d been an inspiring teacher and was one of the great Skrathan of our time. But I had little use for a half-mad water-gazer who I couldn’t trust.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, turning to walk away.
“He’s still here,” he said quickly. “Your ace.”
That stopped me in my tracks. I spun back around.
“What?”
“The Sliver Wraith. That’s who he is, isn’t he?
I fought him once, you know. South of Dorhane, in a wicked rainstorm.
He put four bullets in my dragon’s shoulder that day.
I hated him, sure. But you have to respect a warrior like that.
A man like that. Imagine the two of you getting together. A union like that could end this war.”
These were the ramblings of a madman. I shouldn’t listen. And yet, at his words, a tiny ember of hope sparked in my chest.
Do you think you could find him for me? Those were the words I wanted to say. But I bit them back, swallowed them down.
Instead, I said, “Charlie is gone. I sent him away. And as for ending the war… they say the Sylph Lord will end it for us. He’s coming to watch me take my crown.”
The master’s eyes grew dark. “I haven’t seen that in my scrying. Koratain has made a fortune stoking this war. I would not expect the Sylph Lord to help end it—unless he has an even bigger prize in his sights. Be wary, Essa.”
I sighed again, glancing to Othura. I can’t decide if he’s mad or if he speaks reason, I told her.
She looked thoughtful. I have heard him muttering over here in his cell, she said. But then, I’d have been muttering myself if I had human lips to mutter with.
So… do we free him or leave him to rot? I asked. We have no time to dither.
Othura looked at Bargate. He gave her his old, charming grin, as if he could guess exactly what we were discussing in our minds.
Trust is a rare thing these days, Othura said. But I like the way the skin around his eyes crinkles when he smiles. I don’t think an evil man could have eyes like that...
It was not the reasoning of a Torouman. But the intuition of a dragon was worth much, too. And I had no more time to think.
“Fine. Let him out,” I commanded.
The Lacunae and Gray Brothers had fled when Othura emerged from her cell, but I had a feeling they were still lurking somewhere, watching us. Sure enough, two Lacunae and a Gray Brother emerged from the shadows now. The Brother was shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty…” one of the Lacunae began.
But my hand went to the hilt of my sword. “No. I’m sorry,” I said. “Sorry about what I’m going to do to you if you don’t open that door immediately.”
The second Lacuna stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with his comrade.
The Gray Brother, on the other hand, took a step back, fear in his eyes. But still, he made no move to open the door.
“Let me remind you, in a few hours, I’ll wear the crown as queen,” I said. “Then, it will be the three of you on the other side of that door, I swear on my mother’s soul. Unless you follow my command and let him out.”
Still, nobody moved. Typical…
“Fine,” I said. “Othura, eat them.”
Othura crouched to pounce, but the Gray Brother—who must’ve been vowed to silence, for he still hadn’t uttered a word—quickly produced a large iron key from somewhere in his robes and hurried to the door. With a turn of the key and a clink of the lock, the door unlocked and swung open.
Bargate stepped out, blinking in the moonlight.
He still cut an impressive figure, tall and broad-shouldered, but I could see at a glance that he was thinner than he’d been before, and his fine clothes, which had always been impeccable, were soiled and in tatters, his long, gray-streaked red hair matted and greasy.
His dragon strode out behind him, an impressive orange sagittan named Dorn. I took a step back in surprise—I had no idea a dragon was in there with him.
Bargate stepped toward me and I tensed, half expecting him to attack me. Instead, he knelt. “Your Majesty, I am yours to command.”
“I’m glad of that,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Bathe. Dress. Eat. Rest. And be by my side for my coronation. If anyone gives you trouble, tell them to come see me.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
He bowed his head, then rose and climbed onto the back of his dragon and the two departed down the hallway at a gallop.
Othura and I emerged from the bowels of the palace into one of Charcain’s many courtyards.
The moment we stepped into the starlight, a horn rang out, followed by shouting from one of the parapets.
I couldn’t make out what the guard was saying, but fortunately, Othura’s hearing was much keener than mine.
The Sylph armada has been spotted, she said.
I groaned. I was ready for a morsel of bread to settle my roiling belly—and more rest. I suddenly felt so tired I could barely keep upright. But it was one thing after another in this place…
Alright. Let’s have a look, I told Othura.
I mounted, and she bounded into the air.
In seconds, we were high above the palace.
Sure enough, in the distance, the moonlight illuminated the silver hulls of Sylph barges, shining against the dark water.
They were still far away, but already I could see there were a lot of them.
How many do you count? I asked Othura.
At least fifty, Othura said. But I think more are coming.
My mind raced as I thought through what this could mean. Sylph barges were huge. Fifty of them could hold at least five thousand soldiers. That was—as Charlie would have said—one hell of a coronation party.
“Drop me off back at my chambers,” I said aloud, and Othura banked and dropped, diving until we’d alighted on my room’s balcony, where I dismounted.
“Listen,” I said. “I need you to go and find Pocha.”
She snorted with displeasure. I can’t leave you. Not with your coronation tomorrow, surrounded by enemies and with an armada sailing into the harbor—
I can handle myself, I interrupted her gently.
At least until you return. If you hurry, you could be back in time for the coronation tomorrow.
But I have a feeling we’re going to need more than just the two of us here when the Sylph Lord arrives.
Kortoi and Bargate have both said it, and they’re right—I can’t look weak.
I need my Skrathan by my side. I can’t reach them by simnal now, they must be too far away.
But they should be awaiting us near the Yrdams. In Empra, perhaps.
Fly in that direction, and you should be able to reach them. Tell them to come here in all haste.
She hoomed in irritation. I hate to leave you, Dear Heart.
And I hate to be without you, I said. So hurry.
I didn’t have to ask again. She nuzzled me with her snout, then turned with a leap and a flap of her mighty wings, and she took off into the night.
I stumbled into my chambers, yawning as the sudden warmth from the hearth hit me. Maryn, who paced before the fire, rushed to me.
“Your Majesty! I was so worried. Everyone has been looking for you. Ollie came. And Hoatan. And Lady Natath—she was very distraught—”
I waved her words away. Then hesitated.
“Charlie?”
Maryn’s brow furrowed. “Forgive me—who is Charlie?”
I shook my head. “No one,” I sat down heavily on the bed. I was so tired the mattress felt like quicksand, like it would suck me in and never let me go. I forced myself to stand again.
“What about Auntie Dreya? How is she?”
Maryn looked grave. “Very ill, Your Majesty. The healers visited her but can’t understand what’s wrong with her. And she won’t speak to them. Some say it’s the same thing that killed all those poor noblemen, but…” Maryn trailed off, at a loss.
I had the sensation of being in a building where ten different fires needed to be put out at once.
And me, without water or a bucket to put it in.
I’d awakened with enough energy to free Othura, but I was feeling worse again, my head pounding, my body aching and wracked with chills.
I’d have given my remaining hand for the chance to throw myself down in that bed and sleep.
But what if Auntie actually died? I had to go and see her. I owed her that.
“Forgive me, but you’re looking quite pale yourself, Your Majesty. Perhaps you should—”
“Take me to her,” I interrupted Maryn. She nodded and led me down the hallway to Auntie’s chamber.
I found her lying in bed, a trio of serving women fussing over her. They all curtsied and retreated when I arrived. Dreya looked small and still, her face terribly white, her lips so pale they seemed frosted over. I knelt at her bedside and took her hand.
“Auntie?” I whispered. To my surprise, her eyes fluttered open. She gave a wan smile.
“Essa,” she breathed. “You’re alive.”
“And so are you,” I said.
“Did it work? Is Kortoi dead?”
I replied with the simnal. He lives. But the nobles from the bydrune have paid for their treachery. Mother is avenged.
Her eyes widened as she took in the news. “All of them?”
The young lord Natath had been alive when last I saw him—but judging from the look of him, I guessed he was gone now. I gave a grim nod.
“How—?” she started, her forehead furrowed with thought. Then she gave a small gasp. “Opheema.”
I nodded again.
“Oh, Gods…” she whispered, but with so little feeling that I couldn’t tell whether the revelation pleased or displeased her. “Lord Natath?”
The memory of the two of them on the balcony, looking so familiar, flashed before me. It steeled something inside me.
“Dead,” I replied, studying her face. But she was too weak to react. She just lay there, her face as still as a mask, her breath wheezing in and out like a bellows.
“I—I wish there was something I could do for you…” I said.
We both knew there was no antidote for scorper venom.
She would either survive this ordeal—or she would not.
At that thought, I felt a flurry of conflicting emotions.
I still didn’t trust her, and I resented it.
At the same time, I couldn’t forget all the hours she’d spent training me, teaching me, pouring energy into a younger princess who everyone else had discarded like a broken toy.
I squeezed her hand.
“Thank you for being my durram,” I said, my voice suddenly thick with emotion.
She squeezed my hand, her strength feeble. “I love you,” she said. “And I’m proud of you.”
I snorted. “For what?”
“For never breaking. You do remind me of your mother. For her second bydrune, the one that made you,” she hesitated, wincing as if in pain. “She washed herself, cleansed the seed of the nobles. Took the potions. When you were conceived, we knew you were not a child of power, but of love.”
My eyes narrowed.
“What are you saying?”
But her breathing had gone shallow.
“…That you know who my father was?” I pressed.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
“Auntie?” I demanded, my voice rising. But her face remained still as a mask. “Auntie?” I said again.
There was a knock, and Maryn peeked her head through the doorway. “Your Majesty? The healers said she should rest. You should sleep, too. It’s your coronation day tomorrow. You want to feel your best.”
I felt terribly weak—and dizzy. I didn’t want to sleep; there was so much to do.
Consolidate my power. Monitor my enemies.
Find Charlie. And I hadn’t even picked a dress for the coronation yet.
But there was no escaping how I felt. If I didn’t lie down, I would fall down.
Tomorrow was another day, one which, for better or worse, would have its own page when the history of Maethalia was written.
And so, I squeezed Auntie’s hand one last time. Then I leaned on Maryn and let her lead me back to my chambers.