Chapter 6
Chapter six
Valenna
For an instant, Valenna waited in breathless horror for blood to bloom across Evander's stomach. He shut his eyes and let out a persecuted sigh, then stood, inspecting his torn shirt.
“Are you hurt?” Samara asked timidly.
“No,” was Evander’s brusque reply. “Now go clean out the stalls.”
Samara’s eyes flashed. “This is the fifth time this year. My hands are blistered. It’s underkeeper work."
“If you don’t want underkeeper work, then don’t make underkeeper mistakes. You’re all on mucking duty for the rest of the week, unless you want to go home with Lysander.”
Samara turned, her braid whipping, and stomped off down the hill with the other trainees.
Valenna steadied her breathing as Evander crossed the paddock.
He took a brown tweed ivy cap from his jacket pocket and fitted it on his tousled hair, then, finally, glanced at her.
She returned his look, every nerve thrumming.
What should she say? Should she confront him?
Strike him? Cry? Beg for an explanation?
During the long, lonely days after he left, she’d imagined she’d hate him if they ever met again. But she was disappointed in herself. Her heart had not changed.
Stupid, weak-minded girl, she thought. You have a kingdom to topple! Walk away from him. Leave him behind like he left you.
Evander shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the fence. Underneath, he wore a (torn,) tailored white shirt, the sleeves rolled up his taut forearms, and a brown tweed waistcoat.
He stood a head taller than Valenna, and he moved his slender, athletic body with perfect control.
In the sunlight, his rich brown hair had the faintest shimmer of dark red.
His solemn eyes were the color of forest moss.
Evander reminded Valenna of an autumn morning—warm tones paired with melancholy, like he was always waiting for some beautiful ending.
Internally, Valenna cursed him. Her life would be easier if he were ugly.
Resting her arms on the top rail of the fence, she smoothed her expression to prim neutrality as Evander climbed over and hopped down beside her. His waistcoat and shirt were slashed, and she glimpsed the pink skin beneath—no blood.
“All your intestines still internal?” she asked.
What are you talking about, Valenna? she thought, wincing.
Evander stared at her, speechless, it seemed.
She was making him uncomfortable. Good. His eyes brushed over her body, and she remembered her torn trousers and tangled hair, and her confidence flagged.
Evander cleared his throat. “It seems so.”
“A shame,” she said with a pout.
His eyes darted to her lips, and something in them sparked. But the look was gone in an instant.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I could ask you the same question,” she said, turning and starting down the grassy slope toward the trees.
“Val, wait!” Evander called. He caught up to her and fell into step, his right hand in his pants pocket, the fingers of his left hand hooked in the collar of his coat, which he had tossed over his shoulder. “How did you find me?”
Without bothering to look at him, Valenna let out a shrill laugh. “I wasn’t looking for you, Vander. I’m here on business.”
He glanced down. “Ah, I see,”
Valenna’s magic pricked in her fingertips, and she stumbled over a thorny vine. Had he expected her to go looking for him? Why would she do that? He was the one who left.
“What kind of business?” he continued. His voice was low and so soft, she had to lean toward him to make out what he was saying. It was an intoxicating habit of his, like he was drawing her in by magnetic force. Infuriating.
Valenna fixed her eyes straight ahead. “I am here to appoint the new dragon master.”
Evander ran his tongue over his lips, and his grave green eyes fastened on her with desperate intensity.
Valenna’s cheeks warmed. “Of course, you won’t be applying.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re not supposed to even be riding.”
“I still ride. Every day. As you saw.”
She let out a frustrated huff and shook her head. “I don’t think you’re an acceptable candidate.”
“The master dracologist in Largotia accepted my application, all things considered.”
She looked dubious. “All things considered?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Well, most things. I hope you can be objective.”
Valenna gave him a sugar-sweet smile as they passed into the shade of the trees. “Of course. I’ll be taking everything into consideration. Everything.”
Evander stopped, and Valenna walked three steps before she noticed. She turned.
He was gazing at her with a pained expression. She’d hoped he’d be defensive and they could finally have the fight she’d been reciting to herself in the bath, and as she walked to lunch, and while she fed the crag-backed grayscales. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry I left the way I did.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Valenna replied, sniffing and looking away. The magic behind her ribs flared, smelling like burnt grass.
“I wish I could have explained. I wish I could have stayed.”
“So do I,” she said, suddenly wanting to run down the hill and disappear into the trees. “But you didn’t, and honestly, I’d forgotten all about you before I saw you today.”
Her mind, traitorous in its honesty, produced an image of the wyvern bone powder sitting on her nightstand for a year.
When Evander didn’t reply, she snuck a glance at him.
He wasn’t smiling—he rarely smiled—but the corner of his mouth was tight, like he was trying not to smile.
He knew her well enough to see through her lies.
“You weren’t supposed to come until tomorrow.”
She cleared her throat. “When I heard about the dragon master’s death, I wondered if perhaps … if you …”
Evander’s eyes twinkled. “I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t.”
This conversation was rapidly slipping off-script.
Lifting his cap, Evander ran his hands through his hair. “I wasn’t there when Reggie, the dragon master, was killed. If I had been, I think I might have prevented it, but I wasn’t. I was too busy with the Cobblepine trainees they send me. They’ll be gone in a week, and I can breathe again.”
She frowned. There it was again—a hard edge he didn’t have in Largotia. He’d changed, and it broke her heart.
“Is this position why you left?” she asked. “So you could train reluctant children how to ride a dreadnought?”
“I thought," he said with a groan, "I’d be training dreadnoughts how to be ridden by warriors, but the other trainer isn’t good with people, so here I am, for my sins.”
She snorted. “And you are good with people?”
This time, he smiled, but it was a wry smile. Fatalistic.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this position?” she asked.
“I thought …” his voice trailed off, ending in a sigh. “It was the best thing for both of us.”
She wanted to demand why, but she could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn’t about to confess, so she changed the subject. “After I pick the dragon master, I’m returning to Largotia, so we won’t need to see each other again.”
This was a lie. After she picked the dragon master, she was going to burn everything that reminded her of Evander and go find Olivette. Undistracted.
Evander nodded, beckoning her to follow as he walked into the dragon barn.
As they entered, he shed the stiffness in his shoulders like an ill-fitting jacket.
His tone shifted, and suddenly they were talking like they were casual acquaintances, not fraught former lovers.
Valenna knew she’d indicated that this was what she wanted, so the sting of it surprised her.
“So, only twenty-four summers old, and already the master dracologist’s emissary,” Evander remarked. “Very impressive.”
“Thank you,” Valenna said. “It was unexpected, but gratifying to see my hard work rewarded.”
He darted a shrewd look at her. “And they must have overlooked several prominent candidates to promote you.”
Valenna bristled. “The master dracologist told me he couldn't spare me, but I insisted."
"Why?"
"Not because I wanted to see you, that's certain."
"Oh, I never would have presumed that."
"I'm here because I’m organized and clever and very well read. My work is exemplary, the dragons like me, and I already know more about training than most trainers will know in their lifetime and, unlike some, I’m not a sullen, secretive, son of a …”
“Yes, I know,” Evander interrupted. "You always were all of those things. And much too good for me." His quiet cut through her tirade like a knife. She fell silent, collecting herself. When she did speak, her tone was cold, laced with ire.
“And I’m sure you’re heartbroken over the dragon master’s death since it leaves you poised to take his place."
Evander arched a brow. “I won’t lie to you, I’m ambitious. You know I’ve always wanted to be dragon master, and here I am.” He studied her, and she noticed with a twist in her chest that his pupils were uneven.
“You aren’t taking your potion anymore, are you?”
He ignored the question. “Again, I hope our history doesn’t prejudice you against me.”
“Did you leave because you wanted to break the physician’s orders like a bundle of sticks and I would have prevented you?”
“You were always against me becoming a dragon master. Even in Largotia during our …” he paused. “Our friendship.”
Valenna wondered if they were having two separate conversations. “Why are you evading my questions?”
“You don’t need to worry about me anymore, Val,” he said. A wave of his hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it aside, then raised his arms to adjust his cap, making the muscles in his shoulders tense. Valenna bit her lip. He caught her staring and cut her a roguish smile.
“My point,” she snapped, “is that I don’t care what you do now. If you’d like to ignore the physician’s orders, what’s it to me?”
“Exactly. Now, to business. No one can know about our past,” Evander said. “I am Master Trevelyan to you, you are Miss Castanaia to me.”
“Perfect. I will appoint the new dragon master and be on my way, and we …” She discovered a loose button on her sleeve that demanded her full attention. “We will never see each other again.”
Evander nodded, his mouth tight.
“You should change your shirt, you look a wreck,” she said, smiling and scrunching her nose. “But it’s been lovely seeing you again, Master Trevelyan.”
Evander nodded curtly and turned into a stall. Valenna strode past him, out the back door, and waited until the doors slammed behind her before she let out a long, tremulous breath. She felt murky inside, like she’d put her emotions in a cauldron and mixed them together with carrots and potatoes.
This was not helping her plan her return to Sennalaith.