CHAPTER 17 #3
On the fourth morning, I was right back to my usual routine, with one unexpected addition.
Mornings were still spent in training sessions, afternoons in lessons—I was making drastic progress in my Rihtish—but my midday break now consisted of a short but pleasant walk with Ell following the midday meal.
After making amends for his idiocy with my ankle—swearing up and down he had forgotten I was injured—the elder brother was becoming less of an enigma.
Since my recovery, his attitude had shifted.
He stopped showing up at my training sessions, stopped trying to corner me in unexpected places, and instead started dropping his mask with me.
At first, it was all too easy for him to bristle my hackles, until I realized he just wanted a different type of sparring partner than his brother.
All it took were a few quips, letting my tongue be as sharp as it willed, and Ell was howling in delight.
All in all, he was proving to be a playful partner.
It was refreshing, in a way, to finally have eyes on my target, even though I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing with it.
I did write a carefully worded letter to Merria, telling her of his general appearance and disposition.
I hoped that would serve to appease my father—an apology of sorts.
I still had not resumed sending him coded notes.
Every time the thought crossed my mind, something stilled my hand.
Worse, I received nothing at all from home.
I had no idea if he meant to punish me for defying him—or how.
Would he still come for me? Or would he leave me behind, another child lost to their fate?
Intent on making any sort of progress, regardless of if I put it to use, I focused my attentions on Ell.
Making him talk was no taxing task at all.
With next to no prompting, he could prattle on about absolutely anything and everything, content to listen to his own voice uninterrupted.
Every now and again, he would remember I was meant to be a participant in our conversation, not just a rapt audience, so he’d ask me a question or two.
When he did, he was all charm, and it was easy to forget that everything about our interactions was a farce.
Even so, the information Ell gave freely was fairly useless: bits about expeditions, which I already knew; details on the passing down of their leadership, which I also had already learned; some basic bits about their economy, which were interesting though not helpful; and so on.
My ears only perked up when the conversation shifted toward their bierlae.
“Everyone has a unique blessing, of course.”
“What’s yours, then?”
“Ah-ah, that would be very telling.” His lifelight flickered salmon pink. Agitation.
I was adjusting to this new dragon sight Vaya’la had gifted me, though I had yet to tell anyone about it.
Almost all plants gave off unique hues of light that varied by species.
People shone with different intensities of pure light that flickered, as far as I had discerned, by emotion.
Stronger emotions elicited more dramatic light.
“Is it not polite to ask, or are you just holding out on me?”
He chortled. “Both. Do you have one?”
Unsure how to answer, I just shrugged.
“Don’t worry.” He patted my arm. “It takes time to recognize. It’s a bit of a personal journey, discovering one’s unique blessing.
It took me ages to understand mine, but I was also abroad a lot when I was younger.
Dane seemed to think it would give me world sense to tag along with various expeditions. ”
“Why would that matter?”
“The farther you are from the Great Dragon, the weaker your blessing becomes.”
“You really won’t tell me what yours is?”
He threw me a dashing smile.
“All right, keep your secrets, then. It’s nothing to me.”
Ell put a hand to his heart. “You wound me! Fine, fine. Let’s just say mine helps me understand others better.”
“So, like a language thing?” I asked.
“Not quite, no.”
“Mmm.” When Ell gave nothing further, I said, “Well, if you won’t tell me this, then tell me instead about the best shops and stalls to visit.
My view has been rather limited.” That was a topic I knew could last him a while.
His range of preferences was vast, but one thing about Ell was that he had an opinion about everything.
AS INVIGORATING as these early afternoon walks were, evenings had become my favorite time of day.
Wep offered up the slick black table in the lesson room as a workspace, which meant I spent a couple of hours working on my fabric dyes before showing up to strength training.
It also meant that, more often than not, I showed up with splotches of color covering my hands.
Once I had finished preparing enough dye, I fashioned a small paintbrush using a bit of my hair and a smooth stick.
For the first week, I practiced patterns on the bolts of cloth Callagh and I had purchased.
I made vines, several different types of flowers, and even geometric patterns—but my favorite by far was a melding of the geometric patterns of the Riht with organic petal shapes.
The result was something I’d never seen on either side of the White Sea.
The biggest fan of my work was Teke. “I’m bringing you all my tunics,” they announced one afternoon.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. I’ll pay you.”
“These all need to be tested with multiple washes first. If the dye sets, we’ll talk.”
“Deal.”
Teke’s grin was infectious, and their encouragement made my heart soar.
More importantly, something new and wonderful happened every time I worked.
I slipped into a trance of sorts, focused on the design as well as living in a world of memory.
Vaya’la’s memory, as she explained it. From there, I learned how to open and close my enhanced vision and control the passageway between our minds to block or engage her.
The best part: this was only the beginning.
Every day, I woke feeling just a little bit brighter about the prospects of the day.
However, every training session brought a slightly grumpier, more frigid version of Wep.
It was like what happened between us had scared him off, which was for the best. That didn’t stop my knees from going weak every time I remembered the feel of his body, his perfect lips, and—fuck, even his scent was hypnotic.
Mint, eucalyptus, and something just a little bit earthy that I couldn’t place. I wanted to drown in it.
One particularly dark and frigid morning, as I listened to the rain pelting the castle walls, I drifted in and out of sleep.
While in dreams, Vaya’la took me to a cave in her realm made entirely of flowers.
They were green and black and blue and the brightest violet.
Each one was dotted with brilliant, sparkling gems that lit up the cavern like the night sky.
Her jaws snapped appreciatively at my awe.
When the sun finally rose, it offered no heat. With limbs shaking from cold, I dressed and prayed to the Creator for a warm breakfast.
“Why do you pray to another dragon?”
“What?”
“You do know your ‘Creator’ is another dragon.”
“Oh. It’s just a habit.”
“No, it’s offensive.”
I stopped short. “Did you know him or something?”
“I know all dragons, Small One.”
Our connection dulled, and I recognized it as dismissal. Crossing the room, I examined my nest of curls. With a sigh, I began to wrangle it into submission. Today, above all days, I needed it under control.
No sooner had I finished a simple four-strand plait than Callagh’s bright knock sounded at the door with four quick raps.
“Are you ready, my lady?” she asked as she let herself in.
“Yes,” I lied.
Callagh’s grin was as buoyant as a child’s.
“Remind me why I let you talk me into this?”
“Because being cooped up in your rooms all the time is horrible. Because you have every right to join the rest of the castle in the Main Hall. Because no one will ever get to know or accept you if they never meet—”
“Yes, yes, okay.”
Her grin morphed to a smirk.
I scowled. “You’re sure it’s allowed?”
She nodded.
“Then why have I always had a tray?”
“Idiocy,” my reálta scoffed. “Let me assure you again that I’m positive you’re welcome. I even asked my mother last night.”
“You did?”
She hummed her confirmation.
With a deep breath, I said, “Okay.” Callagh’s mother was the formal trainer and selector of reálti. Riht protocol was her specialty. If she gave the stamp of approval, then it must be right. No one knew better than her, not even the Dane himself.
We walked side by side toward the Main Hall, moving through the maze of corridors far too quickly for my liking. I pulled my leather overcoat closer as if it could hide me from others’ eyes as well as the cold.
“Ready?” Callagh asked again as we paused for a moment outside the ceiling-high double doors.
“No.”
Callagh yanked one open before I could change my mind and flee.
The Hall was warm and inviting and seemed larger, now occupied, than I remembered from my initial tour of the keep.
Bright tapestries depicting foods and feasts draped the stone walls.
Above them, long, skinny windows lined the room.
On any other day, they would have been shining with light.
Today, they revealed only gray clouds and steady rain.
The ceiling towered overhead, higher than any other room in the keep.
A few heads glanced my way. That was it. I was given no more attention than a handful of frowns. Something deep in my chest unclenched.
Callagh led me toward two open seats at one of a dozen long tables.
At the end of each, an attendant hovered, ready to clear dishes and serve newcomers.
I couldn’t see over the many heads, but I surmised the tables held at least forty seats apiece.
Nearly five hundred in all…and our dining hall in Cavendaffe fit no more than twenty-two. The difference was rattling.
A bowl thunked down in front of me. “Drink?” the attendant asked in Rihtish. He was still a boy, perhaps mid-teens, with wisps of hair on his chin and an eager look in his eyes. Whether he recognized me or not, his demeanor gave no clues.
“Is there tea?” I asked, excited to use the language with someone new. He nodded and disappeared, returning in seconds with a steaming mug.
The bowl was a delight that I vowed to eat every morning for the rest of my life. I devoured spoonful after magical spoonful. What looked like simple porridge was chock full of fruits, nuts, creamy milk, and a drizzled syrup rich with warming spices.
“Enjoying yourself, darling?”
I could only moan my assent. I glanced up to find Ell across from me, eyes full of delight.
“Do go on.” He gestured to my bowl. “The noises you’re making are positively sinful. And enlightening.”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
A tsk of disapproval sounded. I recognized the woman at Ell’s side with sobering clarity. It was my challenger from the Sun Trial, the woman whose favorite pastimes included mocking me and breaking my bones. To say I didn’t care for her was an understatement, and my face must have shown it.
Ell’s eyes lit up with delight. “Serae, darling”—The woman bristled at the pet name—“have you met my dear friend Meralda?”
So, that was her name. I tried not to look at her, but her lifelight exploded with a shade of puce that confused me. Apprehension? Insecurity?
“Jealousy.”
Schooling my features at that revelation, I shrugged and returned to my breakfast. I’d be damned if I let her ruin the best meal I’d eaten here.
“Oh, my mistake,” he went on, delighting in every tense second. “I forgot about the Sun Trial. Such a pity I wasn’t here to bear witness.”
It was my turn to bristle. It was true, in addition to being humiliated—I suspected intentionally—by Meralda, my betrothed had not bothered to return to support me on a day the Riht considered sacred.
“You are my chosen, Small One.”
That should have been enough. It was enough.
“You would have seen nothing but an embarrassment.” Meralda’s voice dripped with venom, as usual.
“For Cre—” A growl filled my head, and I cut off.
“Just drop the act,” I spat at her. “I get it. You hate me for coming to your city, for daring to walk my outsider ass down your roads and eat your food with my foreigner’s tongue.
You have a problem with it, go talk to Dane. Stop spitting your bile at me.”
“Oh, ho!” Ell’s face was sheer mischief and merriment. I hated this facet of his mask.
Meralda rose, towering over me as she placed both hands on the tabletop and hissed in Rihtish, “You will never deserve him. Filth.” Then she left.
I just blinked.
Beside me, Callagh jumped to her feet and began shouting back. I understood only a handful of her words, but I suspected some were words I should learn rather soon. Meralda did not turn or respond, and Callagh left my side to follow Meralda out, scolding her all along the way.
When the tall doors blocked out their racket, all eyes in the room turned to me. I ducked my head and tried to finish my bowl, but all taste had gone from it.
“Why?” I asked Ell, fixing him with a hard glare.
He raised a brow at me and shrugged. “One should always know the competition.”