Chapter Twenty-Four
Avari
River was nowhere to be found. I checked his office, the library, the courtyard, and even the kitchen where he sometimes made cocoa. Every room was empty. The air had turned colder, the summer warmth fading into an early autumn gloom that suited his absence too well.
He hadn’t shown up to breakfast either. No message, no explanation. Just an empty chair and the silence that confirmed what I already knew: I’d hurt him.
I spent most of the night going over every part of our discussion, from his words to the way his expression hardened. By morning, I hoped we could talk. I never meant to offend him, and though I expected him to be upset, I hadn’t expected him to shut me out completely.
The problem wasn’t my request; it was his lack of perspective. This wasn’t a whim. It was about facing something I couldn’t ignore—a threat to Fogoya.
After three decades under my mother’s shadow, I’d learned to read the signs. Retaliation was coming. Her scheming vibrated through my bones, chipping away at their structure, and yet part of me didn’t want it to stop. That was when the real crisis would begin.
After hours of searching for someone who clearly didn’t want to be found, I gave up. I would wait and let him come to me once the storm in his head had settled. When the fire burned itself out, reason would return, and with it, maybe, the will to talk.
‘Meet me in the courtyard?’ I reached out to my beast.
The dragon sounded ominous as she asked, ‘Flying or chit-chatting again?’
‘Why? Won’t you come?’ I whined.
‘Of course I will. I’ll just grab a horse on the way there as payment for my sacrifice.’
By the time I reached the courtyard, Anya was already there, her massive form drinking from the fountain.
‘They have lakes, you know,’ I said, watching her grow still.
‘Do you want to be dropped into one?’
She lowered herself, walls of muscle rippling beneath golden scales that shimmered like molten metal. I climbed her front leg and settled between her shoulders, gripping the warm ridges. Then, with a single powerful motion, she launched skyward.
Soon, everything below looked tiny. We were flying high, high enough that if I jumped, there would be nothing left of me but a splash of blood. I focused on balance, letting the wind rush through my hair until the noise in my head began to fade. For a little while, I could almost forget everything.
It was undoubtedly what I needed. I didn't understand why River’s disappointment lingered the way it did. He wanted me to grow to appreciate Fogoya, yet there had been bitterness in his tone, as though I hadn’t. But I had, and it frightened me how much.
I loved the land’s serenity, its forests and rivers, the way peace settled between the mountains. I valued Michael’s loyalty, Emily’s steady kindness, and little Isla’s bright, exhausting enthusiasm.
River was more complicated. I admired his protectiveness and his devotion to his people, but his possessiveness unsettled me.
Mother always treated me like property. Was I destined for the same fate under his rule?
My grip loosened, and my right hand slipped on her scales.
Anya roared, ‘Will you stop it?’
‘Sorry,’ I murmured. ‘There’s a lot for me to consider.’
‘From where I’m standing—or flying—the choice is clear,’ she growled, glancing back at me.
‘For you, yes. For me, not so much.’
A sharp beat of her wings jolted me. ‘That’s because you keep thinking about everyone but yourself. How about, just this once, you don’t?’
‘And what if she attacks?’ The question burned in my throat.
‘So you’d rather go back and let her curse you again?’
I had no answer. The fear that staying might put Fogoyans at risk wore me down. Both River and Anya were frustrated by my hesitation, and that only deepened my doubts. The first stirrings of a migraine pressed behind my eyes. Even the beauty around me couldn’t quiet my mind.
I knew I overthought things, but my thoughts wouldn’t stop circling. The more I questioned our choices, the more I disagreed, though I had neither the courage nor the strength to fight them. Still, somewhere beneath all that worry, I felt a flicker of gratitude for their vigilance.
‘Wow, look at you, Ava!’ Princess Isla’s voice rang out as Anya landed in the courtyard, cracking a few beige tiles. The little girl stood thirty feet away, her mother’s hand locked firmly around hers. Emily’s brow was creased with concern, but awe sparkled in her eyes.
I couldn’t blame her. A creature with fangs the size of her child would unsettle anyone.
‘She’s not hungry, is she?’ Emily asked.
‘People are too bony anyway,’ I said, and Isla frowned. ‘Her words, not mine.’
‘But dragons don’t eat people, do they?’
Anya snorted. ‘Only the annoying ones.’
‘No, they don’t,’ I assured the girl.
‘Even the bad ones?’ she pressed, disappointment wrinkling her nose. Definitely River’s niece.
‘Tell the little human I like her,’ Anya murmured.
‘My dragon says you’ll make a great bond one day,’ I told Isla.
‘Really? Does she know when? I can’t wait! Training starts next week. Maybe she can come visit so I can show my friends she lives in our castle! Mummy, can we move lessons here? Please, please, please!’
‘What was that? And I thought you talked too much,’ Anya muttered.
‘She’s a child, and excited. Humour her.’
Anya roared, sending a ribbon of fire soaring into the clouds before flying off without a backward glance.
‘You’re starting training next week?’ I asked Emily, curiosity edging into concern. She cared for her daughter so deeply; why risk her like that?
‘Yes. Burgundy Wings Academy. I prefer her tutored here, but she begged to join her friends. It’ll be good for her,’ she said, smiling.
As Isla examined the cracked tiles, I found my chance. ‘And you’re fine with dragon training?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Emily frowned.
‘You’d risk her life like this?’ The words slipped out, sharper than intended.
‘What exactly do you think the training entails, Ava? You think I’d let my daughter near danger?’ She scoffed. ‘Get a grip.’
She turned away, and I caught her arm. ‘Wait. I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have known better. Will you tell me what dragon training means for children?’
Her expression softened. ‘You’re not from here; I get it. They don’t actually learn to conjure dragons. It’s just theory, basic fire control. They call it “dragon training” because it sounds grander than sitting in a classroom.’
When I left them, Emily and her daughter were still laughing among the broken tiles.
I walked the dim corridors back to my room, wondering if I’d ever see the day when our courts could live without fear of each other.