Page 18

18

CHARLIE

I t was strange, the way I held my breath, searching the horizon for a first glimpse of Essaphine and her dragon. I told myself it was because I was standing next to Ollie, who clasped and unclasped his hands and paced continuously. I knew from my time in the pilot’s barracks: nerves could be contagious.

Plus, of course, my plans depended upon the princess surviving.

Laynine was the first to return, which didn’t seem to surprise anyone. Her arrival was met with polite applause, and the assembled court watched as she dismounted her dragon and walked over to the queen’s box. She knelt and offered the thimble up on the palm of her hand. A white bird flew down, took the thing in its beak, and flew it up to the queen. The queen held the thimble aloft to another round of applause from the crowd.

“Your performance brings me honor, my durrah,” the queen said.

“Durrah means student,” Ollie whispered to me. “Because Laynine is her niece, the queen has mentored her since she was a young girl.”

“Who does the queen favor in the challenge?” I wondered aloud. “Laynine or Essaphine?”

Ollie gave me a dark look. “The queen would never answer that question. Essa would certainly say she favors Laynine. She’s always been jealous of her cousin. But then, it’s not uncommon for a daughter or son to feel jealous of their mother or father’s durrah. And with Essa being maimed and Laynine being whole, I think their rivalry has a sharper edge than most. Still, it must be hard for the queen. She will lose either a beloved niece or a daughter.”

I looked at Ollie.

“There’s no way they can both survive the challenge?”

He shook his head.

“Essa is the initiator of the challenge and Laynine is the Irska. Assuming they both make it through the challenge’s trials, the final event will be a one-on-one duel—to the death.”

As I processed this grim information, I looked around again, trying to channel my inner reporter and be observant.

Below and to the left of the queen’s box, I noticed that several black tents had been erected, one large and three smaller.

“What are those?” I asked, pointing.

“The pavilions of the Gray Brotherhood,” Ollie said. “They are made of a fabric so that the Prelate and his acolytes can see out but others can’t see in.

Ah, here comes another…”

Two dragons were coming. Ollie pointed up at them.

“That is Kramat on the dark red carcer and Romia on her black scorper, friends of Laynine’s. You can identify the dragon types both by their color and by some of their physical characteristics. See the stinger on the tail of the scorper? And carcers have those crab-like foreclaws rather than the usual talons.”

I jotted these facts down in my notebook, beaming inwardly at the praise my commanders would give me when I shared my intelligence report. It was also worth noting: not only did Laynine win, but her allies also came in second and third, further reinforcing how dominant she was, and underlining the need to keep her out of the top spot.

The next rider to come drew cheers and shouts from Ollie and quite a few other members of the court. It was Essaphine’s friend, Lure, on their purple aran. Lure dismounted with a backflip and strode up to the foot of the queen’s box with such swagger that several of the noble girls pretended to faint.

A string of riders began arriving after that. I didn’t recognize any of them and Ollie seemed to pay them little attention.

Perhaps five minutes later, a pair of dragons broke the horizon and Ollie gave a cheer.

“That’s Dagar on the gold leonin and Pocha on the teal piscean,” Ollie said. “Friends of mine and Essa’s.”

Ollie cheered and I clapped politely as both riders landed and presented their thimble to the queen. Then, our attention turned back to the horizon. Riders were arriving in a steady stream now—but not the princess. Ollie chewed his thumb nail.

“Often, riders are attacked along the way, or ambushed when they land to collect their thimble,” he explained. “Because the course is so spread out, riders often become isolated, which makes it a perfect time for their rivals to take them out.”

Already, a few of the dragons had come back riderless, and on far side of the beach, I could hear the friend or family member of a lost rider wailing.

“Come on, Essa…” Ollie whispered, staring at the horizon.

He wasn’t the only one muttering. All around us, an uneasiness seemed to have stolen over the crowd as everyone scanned the ridgelines ahead of us, waiting.

More dragons came, more riders presented their thimbles. Still, Essaphine did not appear. Footsteps approached and I turned to find Dagar, Lure and Pocha coming toward us.

“Did you see her out here?” Ollie asked.

Dagar shook his shaggy head. “She started behind us.”

“Do friends not fly together?” I asked, the words coming out more sharply than I’d meant them to.

All three riders looked at me with surprise.

“Back home, the pilots stick together,” I explained, my tone softening. “Fly in formation…”

“We fly in formation,” Lure said with narrowed eyes. “But not in the Thimble Race.”

“It’s meant to test a Skrathan’s speed,” Pocha explained. “To slow down would dishonor your dragon.”

“Still, some help others…” Dagar said, sounding a bit guilty as he gazed toward the mountains.

“Or attack others,” Lure added.

Just then, one of the largest dragons I’d seen so far broke the horizon, a two-headed monster that I recognized from past battles. The pilots in my squadron had nicknamed it Double Trouble, and it had killed several of my good friends. Just seeing it made my blood roil with hatred.

“Braimar survived,” Dagar said, not sounding too pleased about it.

“Unfortunately,” Lure added.

Pocha jumped up, pointing at the sky. “Essa!” she exclaimed.

I followed the gesture and saw the princess and her steed were indeed there, flying in the shadow of the much larger dragon.

“And she’s with Braimar,” Lure said darkly.

“Who’s Braimar again?” I asked.

“Nephew of Prelate Kortoi,” Ollie said. “Foremost rider of the Gray Brotherhood.”

“And Essa’s lover,” Dagar added.

“Ex-lover,” Pocha and Lure snapped at once.

I felt a strange, nervous fluttering feeling in my chest as both dragons landed and their riders dismounted and strode toward the queen. I recognized Braimar now, with his height and broad shoulders and long, green hair showing out the bottom of his helmet. I’d seen him the first day I arrived. I didn’t like him then. I liked him less now.

Essaphine walked beside him toward the queen’s box, moving like the breath of her dragon, like wind across a wheat field, all grace and power. I also noticed a dark stain of blood down her right side.

Braimar knelt and offered his thimble toward the royal box. The white bird took it, and he stepped aside.

It was Essaphine’s turn. But instead of kneeling, she remained standing. She and her mother locked eyes and some conversation seemed to pass between them, though no words were spoken. She held up her thimble, but the white bird remained perched on her mother’s shoulder and did not fly down to her.

“Isn’t she supposed to kneel?” I muttered, but no one answered me.

An awkward stretch of time passed with the princess holding out her thimble and the queen glaring down at her daughter, the white bird remaining perched on shoulder. At last, Essaphine dropped the thimble into the dirt, turned, and walked away. Members of the crowd gasped and murmured to one another, and her friends exchanged rueful glances.

“What just happened?” I asked Ollie.

But he didn’t answer. Everyone just watched in a tense silence as the princess mounted her dragon and flew away.