Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Valenna
There were two trainers at Silvanlight Dracorium: Evander Trevelyan and Haldir Bournemuth.
Valenna had already worked out a thousand excuses to appoint Hadir dragon master instead of Evander.
If he was older than Evander, she’d reference his experience.
Younger? The promise of a longer career.
She was prepared to view Haldir, whatever he was like, as the most skilled trainer ever born.
It wasn’t ethical, but she didn’t care. Ethics had never been her specialty.
But when Valenna reached the table where Thomasina awaited her, Haldir wasn’t there. They passed a few awkward minutes in polite conversation, Valenna willing her attention to stop drifting over the festival grounds, trying to spot Evander as he returned from the barn.
Evander materialized out of the crowd like a ghost in a stage play.
He, too, was dressed for revenge, in a shirt that brought out the color of his eyes and a waistcoat that accentuated his broad shoulders and slim waist. He’d rolled his sleeves, the devil, and he was still wearing his glasses.
The glasses were the cruelest touch—she’d never been able to resist him when he wore them.
He moved with such grace and control, it was as though he’d been taught to carry his lean body specifically to inflict agony on Valenna.
As they ate, Valenna kept darting glances across the table at him. Twice, she caught him looking back, and her cheeks warmed.
It was agony. All his little movements and personal quirks returned to her, familiar again after their long time apart, and filled her like a cup overflowing with warm tea.
But she could tell from the slight squint and the pucker between his brows that he had one of his headaches, and the urge to jump up and fix it was suffocating.
In Largotia, she would have given him his wyvern bone powder, pressed a cool cloth against his head, and made him lie down.
Now, she could only watch helplessly as he suffered in silence.
Why didn’t she go after him when he left? Maybe if she’d chased him, he would have changed his mind. Maybe they’d be married by now, living in Largotia together instead of stealing looks at one another across a table.
No, Valenna scolded herself. Evander is a distraction. Olivette is the goal.
Valenna caught Thomasina frowning at her and realized she’d been staring too hard at Evander.
“And where is Haldir?” she asked, clearing her throat and trying to act natural, but she couldn’t remember how a normal, not completely love-sick person acted.
“Doing something clever with the dragons, I assume,” Evander replied dryly.
“Surely Miss Castanaia has questions for you, too, Evander,” Thomasina said.
Right, she wasn’t supposed to know every single thing about him. As far as anyone knew, she met him that morning.
“Mr. Trevelyan …” she began.
“Yes, Miss Castanaia,” he interrupted with a roguish smile that made her stomach flip.
Valenna continued, forcing a frown. “What is the first thing you would do if you were made dragon master?”
Evander leaned back in his chair and smoothed a crease in the tablecloth. “I have many plans.”
“I’m sure you do. What are they?”
“I would direct funding toward better equipment for our keepers,” he began.
Valenna nodded. It was a disappointingly safe answer.
A brief pause followed as Evander took a roll and buttered it. She knew him, and he was holding something back. Suddenly, he removed his glasses, pushed his plate away, and crossed his arms on the table. “But that is not the first thing I would do.”
Thomasina groaned. Curious, Valenna raised her eyebrows.
“The first thing I would do is cut sales to Ashkendor.”
Valenna laughed. “You’re not serious?”
“I am. And that’s not the end of it. I would stop the sale of breeding females, and then I would refocus our training program toward breeding and revitalization of the dragon species.”
“The queen regent will love that,” Valenna scoffed. “Allegesh’s primary export is trained dragons. The food on this table was put here by the dragon trade. Your salary, Mr. Trevelyan, is paid by the dragon trade. This whole dracorium is funded by the dragon trade. You want to disrupt that?”
Evander leaned back. “And this food, my salary, this dracorium—all paid for in blood.”
“That’s very noble of you …”
“It’s more than noble,” Evander said, one finger tapping the rim of his cup, his other hand resting on his leg. “The trade is unsustainable. Wyverns are extinct now—did you know that?”
There was the old Evander she knew—quiet, measured, simmering with repressed passion.
He continued. “Did you know that there are only a handful of dragons left in the wild? They used to breed in Talwaith, but now that it’s arid, they’ve lost their habitat and will only breed in Cobblepine.
And Cobblepine can’t provide enough viable young to feed the war.
If we keep this up another five years, there won’t be any dragons left to train or sell. ”
Shaking her head, Valenna smiled at him smugly. He was clever with dragons, but what does a woodcutter’s son from the plains know of wars? If he was a woodcutter’s son, which she doubted. She sometimes wondered if he had been a mercenary before he came to Allagesh.
“It will take more than that to stop a two-decades-long blood feud,” Valenna said, her old fatalism at her elbow like a bad conscience.
“So, if we can’t stop the war, we might as well line our pockets with it?” Evander asked darkly.
“And how will you convince the queen regent of this?”
Evander looked evasive. “I have … spoken with the crown prince.”
“You’ve spoken with Prince Asherton?” Valenna scoffed. “Very likely.”
Evander looked almost a little smug. “He comes of age at the end of the summer, and when he does, he’ll take the throne. He’s not as sympathetic as his mother to the dragon trade.”
Valenna cast him a cutting look. “If you stop providing dragons to Ashkendor and Sennalaith, they’ll just find another way to fight one another.”
“Yes, one that doesn’t involve slaughtering innocent animals.”
“Where is Haldir?” Valenna said, with forced brightness. “I need to meet him in order to decide …”
A small commotion broke out to their left, and the crowd parted as one of the Cobblepine trainees went sailing through the air, his arms and legs wind-milling, and belly flopped onto a table. It collapsed beneath him, flowers and fizzlewine flutes scattering.
A tall, muscular man stepped into the gap, laughing. Samara and the big trainee braced as the other two girls helped the dizzy boy from the broken table.
Evander looked tired.
“That’ll teach you to speak to me like that, Giles,” the big man boomed.
Samara looked helplessly at Evander, her cheeks burning, but he only shrugged. Valenna had hoped he would step in and intercede for the trainees, but Evander clearly wasn’t in a charitable humor.
The Evander she knew in Largotia would have helped.
She missed him.
“Come and sit, Haldir, and leave them alone,” Thomasina said to the big man.
So this was Haldir. Valenna grimaced. Not a perfect candidate for dragon master.
He was tall—taller than Evander—with shoulder-length black hair, glacier-blue eyes under a heavy brow, and a white smile sharp enough to cut diamonds. He was so perfect, from the sole of his boots to the crown of his head, Valenna almost believed he’d been sculpted from marble.
Valenna stared at him in awe, her lips parted. He wasn’t beautiful like Evander, who was all graceful lines and warm contrasts. He was beautiful like a mountain—powerful, bulky, sharp-edged.
Ignoring the cluster of furious trainees, Haldir stalked to the table and dropped into the chair beside Valenna, flashing her a breathtaking smile. “My name is Haldir Bournemuth,” he said, taking Valenna’s hand and kissing it.
Across the table, Evander’s expression darkened.
“Valenna Castanaia,” Valenna stammered, her mouth dry. This was stupid. She’d met handsome men before—Evander was certainly above average—but Haldir was ridiculous. Like some legendary god.
“Ah, so you’re the woman who decides our fate? I submit myself to your capable hands …” He raked hungry eyes down her body, lingering on places she wasn’t sure she wanted them to linger. “… in any way you like.”
Evander looked like a tightly wound spring. Shoulders rigid, jaw tight, he leveled a murderous glare at Haldir.
Haldir’s gaze devoured her again, and her cheeks warmed. She pulled her hand away, so he snatched the other. “Let this poor mortal bestow one more kiss,” he said.
Evander snorted.
Haldir was a bit much.
And then Haldir laid his hand on her thigh. Valenna lurched away from him, bumping the table and upsetting two wine glasses. They spilled, splashing blood-red across the silver tablecloth.
Evander shot out of his seat, reached across the table, grabbed Haldir’s shoulder, and wrenched his arm away from Valenna.
Haldir hissed through his teeth as he stumbled to his feet and clutched two fistfuls of Evander’s shirt front.
Flushing red, Haldir slammed Evander onto his back on the table and raised his fist.
“No! Stop!” Valenna shrieked, terrified Haldir would strike Evander. A punch to the head would be catastrophic for him, possibly fatal.
Evander’s mouth twisted into a scornful smile as he slipped his hand to Haldir’s elbow and pinched. The big man released him with a howl, his arm hanging limp.
Avoiding looking at her, Evander straightened, tucked in his rumpled shirt, and sat again, looking perfectly placid.
Someone laughed, and Valenna glimpsed Samara watching from a table nearby. The Cobblepine trainees leaned their heads together, snickering and casting Evander conflicted looks of admiration and ire.
Haldir dragged his limp arm into his lap, his nostrils flaring and his lips quivering with rage.
“Please, everyone, be calm!” Valenna cried.
“I think Haldir should go,” Thomasina said, throwing down her napkin.