Page 33 of Court of Embers (Dragonesse #2)

Chapter

Seventeen

T he Historian, whose name was Treza, ate in a way that made my post-Mistward gluttony seem polite and restrained.

Cleaned up, he was clearly not much older than us—in his early twenties, with his auburn hair hanging floppy in his eyes. The brilliant orange scales on his cheekbones spoke of a smaller House, perhaps Amber Gleam or Divine Blaze.

Rhylan had offered him clean clothes, and they’d been rolled up around his ankles and wrists. When Treza had shifted, I saw why the dragon might have wanted to become a Historian rather than attend the Training Grounds: he was small, slight, entirely unsuited for battle against a heavyweight.

But what he lacked in mass he made up for with speed, fleeing Koressis like a pack of rabid wyverns were on his tail.

We’d thrown him in a bath as soon as we’d arrived in Jhazra, and he’d emerged an entirely new dragon. But the shocked look hadn’t left his brown eyes, and he ate automatically, shoveling in food with a thousand-yard stare.

I sat across from him, a glass of a light sparkling wine at hand, picking at my own plate. For once, I had no appetite. Not after what we’d seen in the Royal Eyrie.

“So…what happened?” Rhylan asked. He was bouncing one leg under the table, dying to interrogate the Historian.

Treza chewed a slice of ham, swallowed, and finally focused on the dragon next to me. He was pale, the kind of pale that came from days and nights spent in the sunless stacks, but there was a sickly tinge to it.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “We’ve been going over the histories of prior Interregnums. Once we received the news that Princess Serafina was alive and on Akallan soil, Historian Conah had the idea that there might be a precedent to crown her immediately and put an end to the Interregnum.

Isandoral had been supervising the research, pushing hard to find a confirmed, letter-of-the-Law precedent.

We would need one, you see, to allow Serafina into Koressis. ”

He didn’t seem to realize I was Serafina, not that we’d exchanged pleasantries. The flight from Koressis had been quick, and blind with revulsion and terror.

Treza fell silent, staring at the tabletop.

“And then what happened?” I asked gently, nudging a platter his way. Treza grabbed a soft roll, but instead of eating it, he began shredding it slowly.

“The only thing that changed…was that Princess Yura came.” He smushed a crumb with a fingertip. “She had a question for Isandoral.”

I sat up a little straighter. “Were you there for the questioning?”

Treza shook his head miserably. “No. None but Isandoral and the Master Historian, Hiros, knew what she asked. And after that…Isandoral became…different. He began pacing the tower, up and down, day and night. Hiros fell ill, and took to his bed.”

I exchanged a glance with Rhylan.

“When did Isandoral…begin stealing eyes?” Rhylan asked, and Treza flinched.

“Only a few nights after the questioning,” he whispered.

“I was sleeping. I…I woke up to the screaming, and went to the Library, and there was blood everywhere. Parts…of them….everywhere. Hiros was gone. I wanted to run, but every time I tried to find a path through the tower, I could…hear things ahead of me. Terrible noises.”

He’d gone even paler, if possible. His fingers were trembling, scattering crumbs. I reached across the table, wrapping my fingers around his, and his hand was ice cold.

“So I tried to cut through the Atrium,” he said, looking at me, but his eyes were seeing something else.

“I didn’t want to shift, because I could hear Isandoral, sniffing, talking to himself.

Talking about having the eyes to see. And that’s…

where I found everyone. Isandoral was gone, and I…

I braced myself to go through. And he came back. ”

Treza’s fingers convulsively gripped mine, and he swallowed hard.

“So I threw myself on the ground, and I pulled…I pulled Conah’s body over me.

He was dead, his eyes were just these big, empty holes in his face, but I thought…

” He took a deep breath, shaking. “I thought if I smelled like blood, like decay, then Isandoral wouldn’t smell me.

He came in, and he was pacing the tower again, and those eyes…

I recognized every single one of them. He was taking eyes from my colleagues, my friends, and swallowing them, and…

then they’d open on his body. I could see my dead friends’ eyes staring at me. ”

A violent shudder ran through his shoulders, and he blinked, looking down at his demolished plate.

“I stayed there for three days. Just sitting there, unable to move, while Conah went all stiff and started to bloat. Some others survived in the library for a time, but…Isandoral would sniff them out, and I’d hear the screaming all over again.

Then…you came.” He looked up at me, his eyes shiny.

“You saved me. I didn’t know what was worse, that Isandoral would find me, or just… starving slowly. Who are you?”

If I’d needed any further confirmation that he was utterly drained and shocked by his ordeal, that was it. Any Historian would know us simply by our scion-marks, but something in Treza’s eyes wasn’t entirely there.

“I’m Serafina of Silvered Embers. And this is Rhylan of Obsidian Flame. You’re in Jhazra Eyrie.” I smiled gently, squeezing his icy hands one more time. “You’re safe with us.”

“Serafina.” He stared at me, blinking owlishly, then leaned forward. “ Serafina .”

“Yes.” I pulled my hands away, rising from my seat. “I think you need some rest before we ask any more of you—”

“No, wait!” He grabbed me, yanking me back in the seat, and Rhylan tensed at my side.

Don’t hurt him , I thought, patting Treza soothingly. He’s been through a lot. He’s not in his right mind.

As long as he doesn’t manhandle you , Rhylan shot back, but he relaxed a little.

Treza grabbed his glass of watered-down wine, gulping it thirstily. “Princess Serafina, I am…so honored to be in your presence. There’s so many things I must tell you.”

I doubt he’d be as honored if he smelled me after a long flight , I thought dryly, and Rhylan laughed in my mind.

“Things I must tell you about your father.”

Any humor I’d had over his abject subservience died instantly. “What about my father?”

Nilsa refilled Treza’s glass, and for good measure I grabbed mine, taking a healthy sip. Something told me I’d want to be relaxed for what I was about to hear. News about my father from a source as close to him as Tyria, if not more so.

After all, the Historians had worked and researched on the Drakkon’s orders. He would have unique insight into my father’s mind, what he had wanted to know.

“I believe he was poisoned,” Treza said hurriedly.

So Tyria isn’t the only one , Rhylan said.

I agree . But I focused on Treza. “Please do me a favor, and start earlier. Was my father ever in his right mind?”

Treza shook his head slowly. “No. He was never right—of course, I only know this from…from Isandoral and Hiros. They were there when he took the throne. He was bond-broken in mind after Dragonesse Sythera’s death. But it was…benign. Until later. Until you.”

“Me?” I asked, frowning.

“I read about the circumstances of your exile and your House’s dissolution.

It was around that time that Nasir began to go into rages—he would lock himself in the top of the eyrie, pacing day and night…

” Treza trailed off, looking unnerved, and I felt the same disquiet.

Pacing day and night…just like Isandoral.

“He would rant and rave to his advisors and Historians, about enemies all around, enemies hiding in the shadows. He reportedly said that you had to go. Conah told me later that Nasir was direly concerned for your safety.”

I stared at Treza, mouth twisted. “Concerned for my safety ? He sent me to Mistward.”

Treza gave me a helpless shrug. “Hiros was the one who researched potential exile points for him, on his orders. The Wildlands were ruled out—many of the Hordes take slaves, and the true dragons in that land don’t abide by the Laws of the Houses.

The Eastern Shores are populated by dragon-slayers.

Obviously no one can cross the Searing Ocean, not so close to the World Scar.

So Hiros eventually determined that Mistward Isle offered the most likely route of survival outside of Akallan soil. ”

I felt frozen, my lungs cold lumps in my chest. “His concern almost killed me.”

How bitter it felt, that he had loved me—and in his madness to protect me, he had nearly ended my life.

“I cannot say what he was thinking, Princess,” Treza said softly. “I was a lowly acolyte. I had no say in their machinations.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not angry with you.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “So my exile was…carefully pre-determined.”

“Yes. I looked through the documents when Hiros wasn’t around.

” Treza looked down, shame-faced. “He required a carefully-chosen pretext to enact his plans, and Lady Anjali’s murder was the perfect excuse.

The Historians who provided proof in the Judgment were all selected by Nasir, to give the testimony he required—that Lady Nerezza had wielded the blade that killed her. ”

Something hot stung the back of my eyes. Not tears. I wouldn’t cry for this dragon.

“Prince Rhylan’s testimony was the final nail.

” Treza nodded to Rhylan. “As far as anyone knew from the Judgment, Lady Nerezza had murdered Lady Anjali in cold blood, a fact backed up by her own son. Nasir had no hesitation in declaring you exiles, never to return to the continent, and not a single soul contested this.”

I felt Rhylan nudge my mind, a terrible, bleak emotion.

I don’t blame you , I whispered to him. We were all duped. He used us for his own plans.