Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Evander
A lamplighter balanced on his rickety ladder, touching a brand to the lamps as Evander and Valenna walked along the main street. The air smelled of baking bread, cured meats, and dragon musk.
Beside him, Valenna watched the dragons wheeling overhead and their young riders whooping as the stars scattered behind them like sugar spilled on a cobalt tablecloth.
“Not a bad place to spend your dotage,” Valenna said.
It struck Evander that he wasn’t going to have a dotage; he was lucky if he felt the warmth of summer.
But with Valenna on his arm, he was hopeful again.
Perhaps they would find a remedy, and he’d be permitted a few happy years with her.
Perhaps they wouldn’t, and at least he wouldn’t be alone at the end.
The light reflected off her dark waves, and she tipped up her face, glowing with joy.
A twinge of guilt stung him. It was such a fragile thing, happiness. If they couldn’t find a cure, this joy in her face would go out. Because of him.
But he had done his best to warn her off, and she wasn’t the type of woman to run from pain. He admired her for that. Among a thousand other large and small details.
The shops in Cobblepine stood shoulder to shoulder, leaning into one another and sending the whole row crooked. Dragons the size of housecats perched on the thatched roofs, their wings outstretched in the spreading moonlight.
No one lived in the village, the people preferring to make their homes in the caves carved into the mountainside. This area was designated for trade.
The apothecary shop stood between a physician’s office and an undertaker, like a gradient between illness and death. The door was closed, the windows already shuttered for the night, but warm orange light glowed from the upper story where Evander imagined Samara’s father was working late.
As they approached, he saw Samara sitting on the stoop with a little green dragon pup in her lap.
Beside her sat a slender boy with black hair and pointed, handsome features.
He wore a handmade leather jacket, too broad for his narrow shoulders, and he clamped a small rolled bacco joint between his full lips, the light at its end illuminating his face.
In his palm lay a mushroom, writhing like a living animal afraid for its life. He was poking it.
Samara looked up as Evander and Valenna approached, and her brow knitted. “We’ve already been told not to sell you anything,” she said.
“I’ve never known you to do what you’re told,” Evander said.
Samara raked her eyes over Valenna. “She pregnant?”
Valenna spluttered, “No, and why would you even think it was alright to ask … you little …”
Samara shrugged and bent her attention to her dragon. “The paddocking was a show, wasn’t it? I was sure that hydra ate you for breakfast. I think a few of my friends will be disappointed it didn’t.”
“That’s a little harsh,” Valenna scolded.
Jerking her head toward the boy sitting beside her, Samara said, “I suppose you remember Lysander.”
Glancing up from tormenting the mushroom in his hand, Lysander glowered at Evander.
At first, Evander hadn’t recognized Lysander. When he did, he felt more annoyed than anything. Valenna, however, looked ill.
“You sent me home, if you recall,” Lysander said coldly. “After I supposedly misread the altimeter.”
“You did misread the altimeter …” Evander began, but Valenna cleared her throat loudly and cast him a look that clearly read, Be nice when you want people to do you favors.
Evander drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry you had to go home.” He was aware he didn’t sound sorry. “But you weren’t ready.”
“So you said,” Lysander murmured.
“You were a danger to yourself and the other trainees.”
Lysander stood, dropping the mushroom. It scooted away into a cluster of ash bins. “Ariadne Augmendene is my mother, and now the elders are questioning my birthright. Because of you. Because you’re impossible to please. Now, a hundred years of Augmendene governors will end with me.”
Evander sighed. “I’m not impossible to please. I’m impossible to buy. Your mother’s position won’t do you any good if you’re dead.”
Without breaking eye contact, Lysander removed his bacco joint, tossed it to the ground, and snubbed it with his toe. “Good luck getting your wyvern bone powder. I hope you don’t need it too badly.”
Lysander chuckled and ambled down the street, his shoulders hunched as he lit up another smoke.
“Evander!” Valenna cried, turning toward him, “That was the boy you sent home in disgrace? The governor’s son?”
“He thought he was above the rules!” Evander retorted. “He thought he could be lazy and irresponsible and get away with it because he’s a prince …”
“Not a prince …” Samara corrected dryly.
“It’s the same thing!” Evander snapped. He’d forgotten how contrary and irritating Cobblepinions were.
Samara grimaced. “People love Ariadne here, Trevelyan. She was not pleased when Lysander came home.”
“She’d have been more displeased if he came home in a box.”
Samara looked suspicious. “What do you need wyvern bone powder for, anyway?”
Valenna opened her mouth to explain, but Evander cut her off. “Do you have any?”
She studied him, running her fingers along the little dragon’s spine. Her eyes lingered on Evander’s shirt—dark with the serpent’s blood. “If we do, my father won’t sell you any. Ariadne will take his trade privileges.”
A pang of disappointment tremored through Evander, but he fought to keep his face placid. Valenna, however, was less composed, and he felt her body wilt against him.
“We’re not asking your father,” Valenna persisted. “We’re asking you.”
Samara laughed bitterly, gathered her little dragon into her arms, and stood. “And you think I’ll risk my family’s livelihood for a man who made me muck stalls and then sent Lysander home in disgrace? No. Not on my first day back from Silvanlight.”
“Come, Samara,” Evander persisted, but she glanced away. “You know as well as I do that Lysander was bound to get someone killed. He didn’t have any talent with the dragons.”
“Lysander is beloved here,” Samara replied.
“The day he was born, the first dragon egg hatched in Cobblepine, so he’s considered a consecrated symbol of our purpose.
Linked with dragons or some other drivel.
You’re right—if we had a prince, he would be it.
Sending him home was akin to a crime, and now the elders are questioning taking the title of governor from the Augmendenes.
You couldn’t have come here at a worse time.
The village is in an uproar; everyone is angry and fighting.
Lysander’s disgrace shook this place to its core. ”
With a snort, Evander said, “He’s an entitled little fool.”
“Yes.” Samara laughed. “But he’s royalty, and you don’t spite royalty without getting punished. I’m sorry, Trevelyan. I can’t help you.”
Dread wound through Evander’s ribs. He realized he was gritting his teeth so tightly, his jaw ached.
“He’s going to die,” Valenna blurted. Evander hadn’t wanted to admit it; he wasn’t certain why. Pride, perhaps? Or denial? But Samara stopped on the stoop, and her shoulders tensed.
“He has an old injury, from dark magic, and without the powder, he’ll die. Please, Samara. I saw you run into the paddock and face an angry hydra. You’re not like the others—soft and compromising. You have strength they don’t have.”
“I didn’t mind you myself, Trevelyan,” Samara said, turning toward the door.
She shook out her long black hair. “I thought you stern, but you taught us some interesting skills. I can do a barrel roll now. I’ve always wanted to do barrel rolls.
So, even though I certainly never could, I do want to tell you about the spice and oil consortium.
They’re less … how do I say this? They’re less legitimate than my father. ”
“If you could tell us,” Evander asked, “which I know you can’t, which direction would we go?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare tell you that it’s in the magical district, and I never go to the magical district, so there’s no way for me to know that it’s next to a poisonarium.
I also couldn’t tell you that you just need to turn left at the bookstore and you’ll find your way there.
I’m sorry, but I’m just a na?ve little girl, so I can’t tell you any of that. ”
With that, she opened the door and disappeared inside.