Page 21

21

ESSA

B attle. Its song hummed in my blood, its fire burned in my belly, its lightning crackled through my mind. I felt Othura’s excitement too, the battle lust of a dragon, a restless, inexorable desire to sow destruction.

We landed and I was off Othura’s back before she’d even stopped, running into the barracks. Shrugged into my armor, pulled on my boots and glove, strapped on my sword and donned my helmet. I skipped the lance rack—no need for one of those—and hurried out to the courtyard where the other dragons and their riders waited.

I’d flown into battle before, but Paemalla, mindful of my royal blood, had always been careful with me, keeping me in reserve, assigning me to the rear guard, or sending me to patrol the coast, where the enemies’ ships and planes rarely reached. But today might be different. Until the challenge was complete, Laynine was the highest ranking Skrathan, which meant she was the acting Irska. She’d likely put me in the vanguard, in the most dangerous assignment possible, hoping that some enemy fighter plane would do her a favor and cut me from the sky.

That was the danger, but it was also an opportunity. Othura and I would fight well and triumph. And when the rest of the riders witnessed us in battle, a few might even decide to support me over Laynine.

I strapped Othura’s war saddle on then mounted her, and we both waited with restless excitement as the other of the riders finished their preparations and mounted. At the center of the courtyard stood an ancient mound where the Irska would stand to give her orders. Laynine was there now atop Tryce, and Braimar was with her, the two of them conferring together.

He was the second highest ranked rider, the Irska’s Right Hand. It was natural that she’d be consulting with him before the battle. Still, it made me wonder. Just yesterday, Laynine had tried to kill me and Braimar had saved me. Now, they were talking together like friends… or conspirators.

Could her attack during the Thimble Race have been a trick? Perhaps Laynine only pretended to try to kill me so Braimar would have the chance to swoop to my rescue. But if so, why?

You know why, Othura said in my mind. It’s what everyone has been pushing you toward. Marry you off to Braimar, send you away… and save your life.

Right, I thought back. And get me out of the way. With me gone, there would be one less Skrathan and one less royal to worry about.

And yet, maybe I should go. Braimar was handsome. He was a powerful Skrathan, and he’d always been protective of me. I could do worse.

But I just couldn’t imagine myself running away.

Finally, Braimar nodded, his geminus bearing him away, and Laynine sat tall in her saddle and blew the theyrune horn once more, bringing the assembled riders and their dragons to silence.

“Listen well.” Braimar barked. “As acting Irska, Laynine will give the battle assignments.”

Laynine opened a scroll and began booming out names.

“Vanguard: myself, Braimar, Cronan, Romia, Lure, Kramat, Dagar, Pocha…” she continued, listing off at least forty names, but mine wasn’t among them.

“Rear guard…” she listed off another forty names. Each time her lips parted, I expected her to say Essaphine . But my name never came.

By the time she said, “Coastal guard…” I was shaking with fury. And still my name was not among the thirty or so listed.

My fist clenched so hard my whole body trembled. I felt Othura growling beneath me.

“If I did not read your name, you are to remain here in reserve. You will receive a call through your dragon-mind if you are called into battle. Now fly!”

As one, the dragons took to the air in a wild clapping of wings.

This won’t stand. Stop her! I told Othura, but there was no need. Already she was bounding ahead, weaving her way through the chaos of whipping tails and thumping wings as I held onto the saddle horn, fighting to keep my seat. She sprang forward and grab Tryce by the tail, tugging him back toward the ground. With a snarl, the beast wheeled on us. Othura, though much smaller, didn’t shrink away. She stood even as Tryce put his forehead to hers, both dragons growling at one another.

“What are you doing?” Laynine demanded.

“You dare to leave me behind?”

She sighed. “Cousin…”

“Don’t!” I shouted. “Don’t pretend there is love between us. You’re afraid I’ll distinguish myself in battle. Admit it.”

Laynine’s eyes flashed with emotion, but it was Braimar who came up beside her and spoke.

“Distinguish yourself in battle? Essa, you can’t even hold a lance.”

The pity in his voice opened up a pit of emotion inside me that felt like roiling lava.

“I’ll fight you,” I shouted. “In a heartbeat.”

He barked a weary laugh, shaking his head. “Essa… be real.”

“Fight me,” I said. “And see how real I am.”

“Enough!” Laynine shouted. “There is a real battle at hand. I won’t have you two squabbling like children. And I won’t waste royal blood, either. Essaphine, you’re to remain here. That’s final. Follow us and you’ll face the brig, just like any other Skrathan who defies orders. Braimar, with me.”

And with that, Tryce took wing. Braimar gave me one more look, an expression dripping with pity. Then he clapped the visor of his helmet down and took to the air, leaving me to watch them fly away though the blur of angry tears.