54. Maxim
Chapter Fifty-Four
Maxim
War.
Ortansia’s ominous threat hangs in the air between her and me as I fight to restrain my fire, small flames leaping dangerously from my fingertips.
She steps farther back into the gloom. “Possibly not my smartest move, telling you that right now.”
“That the Tol-Dakri will go to war with Ember because I took the dragon’s hide?” I shake my head. “Possibly not.”
My people already face death suffocating on the Iron Kingdom’s toxic smoke in the north. To have to fight a battle to the south as well? I can’t let it happen.
Ortansia’s exhale is heavy, her silhouette in shadow as she anticipates my thinking.
“You could raze this entire clay city to the ground with your fire,” she says.
“But you should consider that the Tol-Dakri survived fire dragons. Trust me when I tell you we are equipped to survive you. You must also trust me when I tell you I don’t want it to come to this. ”
“Then what will it will take to avoid war?”
“You must return the dragon’s hide in the arms of something even more precious.”
My brow furrows. “The arms of—” My confusion clears. “You want the Oracle.”
“My people want the Oracle. But not for the reason you might assume.”
I take a careful guess. “You don’t want her for her visions.”
Ortansia edges toward the wall on my right, a little nearer to the light, and I guess it’s because the fire at my hands has died down.
“You came here for information about Blood Fae,” Ortansia says. “While I’m not in possession of our records, I do have my memories, the collective whispers of my Tol-Dakri ancestors.”
I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I ask, “What do those whispers tell you?”
“Some things I know as fact and some as myth.”
“The facts?”
“The Slain Prince died in the east, a then-bountiful land peopled by fae who once spoke the dragon tongue. Did you know there were fae who could communicate with those beasts? Whole conversations spoken directly between their minds.”
“What does that have to do with the Oracle?”
“That’s where the myth comes in.” Ortansia leans up against the wall, her focus flitting past me for a moment, and I’m not surprised she needs to keep an eye out.
“Before she died, my mother whispered a story to me that no Oracle, not even a female Oracle, could be powerful enough to cast a curse that changed the very fabric of Serulia. She whispered to me what the oldest Tol-Dakri have also whispered: the curse was cast in the ancient dragon tongue.”
I would shudder if my fire weren’t suddenly heating my blood.
What Ortansia’s saying is near heresy. “By whom?”
She gives me a very slow shrug. “Unknown. But if those quiet whispers are true, then the Dragonstone Blade contains a dragon’s curse and such a thing is of very great interest to my people.”
What she doesn’t say aloud is what makes my blood pound: Her people are sworn to end all dragons and every power connected to them.
“Obviously, I don’t want her to be hurt,” Ortansia says.
I scoff, since nothing is obvious.
“I’ll make you an offer, Maxim,” Ortansia continues. “When I win these challenges, give me the chance to speak with the Oracle. Perhaps between us, we can avoid war.”
A dangerous proposition.
“The Oracle makes her own choices,” I say. “She is above a king.”
“As she should be,” Ortansia replies. “All I ask is that you pass on my request. She can decide. If I don’t hear from her by the end of four weeks, then we will go to war.”
Ortansia steps back into the darkness. “Oh, and I meant it when I said she must come with the dragon’s hide.
Preferably wrapped around her shoulders.
That way, my people will accept that you used the hide to bring her to us alive.
They won’t forgive you for stealing the hide, but they’ll be more inclined to give your people quick deaths.
Assuming war can’t be avoided, that is.”
Fire burns around my hands again. Fucking Tol-Dakri.
Ortansia’s daggers flash in the darkness. “You should leave now, Maxim. I can’t have my people saying you killed my challengers for me.”
Just as well. My fire is ready to burn. For a heated moment, I consider razing this city to the ground right here, right now. But I can’t ignore the truth of Ortansia’s warning: the Tol-Dakri survived dragons. They will survive me.
I stride down the hallway, stopping at the masked challenger, separating the material at his neck to find yet another wooden amulet attached to a chain.
“One thing I know about Blood Fae,” Ortansia calls, causing me to half-turn back to her. “They were Merovians.”
A well-known fact, but then she continues.
“People talk about Merovians as if they were a species, but they were a single Tol-Dakri family who were prepared to take on the darkness when all other fae cowered before dragons. Only blood magic could cut through a dragon’s scales and skin to allow other fae magic to strike.
The Merovians saved Serulia. Yet they were hated and enslaved. Think on that, Maxim.”
I snap the amulet off the chain and enclose the wood in my fist, leaving Ortansia with silence as I prowl from her quarters.
The truth follows me like a shadow.
If my people thought my mother was a Blood Fae, they would hunt me.
I would be forced to kill them, and worse, my rule would be called into question.
The Lords of the Ember Court will see their chance to fight for the throne.
While Hadrian strikes from the north and the Tol-Dakri strike from the south, the lords would be too busy fighting each other within the underground cities to defend my people. Hundreds of innocent fae will die.
I pick up my pace as I hurry from Ortansia’s quarters, the heavy silence throughout the city hitting me. As fast as I can, I scale the wall, evade the brown serpents patrolling the sky, and run back to my serpent.
As we soar into the air, my thoughts churn.
I have to pass on my crown, and quickly. Not only to protect my family, but to protect Thyra.
The Tol-Dakri swore to destroy dragons and all things touched by dragon magic. They sing literal fucking songs about tearing the hide from the last fire dragon’s dead body.
Ortansia is her people. She won’t give up her life or her leadership and she won’t tolerate dragon magic.
She won’t want to speak with Thyra.
She’ll want to kill her.
And she won’t wait four weeks to do it.