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ESSA

T he unfolding events felt fractured, like scenes in a dream. The guards chaining Kit’s wrists and taking him away… The Gray Brothers throwing a net over the little red dragon and carting it off… Healers fussing over Braimar’s wounds then leading him toward their temple... Mother and her entourage making their way back inside with a flourish of trumpets... My friends pausing to check on me, then departing when their words were met only with my stunned silence... Finally, Laynine and I were the only ones left in the courtyard.

“Tomorrow that will be us, cousin,” she said. “Only our dragons will not be able to step in and save us.”

From her demeanor, I couldn’t quite gauge how she felt about it. Was she sorry we’d have to fight or gloating about it?

“No one will need to save me,” I shot back, and I turned to follow Mother’s procession inside, leaving her alone in the windswept courtyard.

I caught up to Mother in her throne room and grabbed her arm, turning her around.

“Mother,” I said. “A word in private.”

The anger in her eyes gave way to a dismissive eye-roll. “Oh Essaphine. I’m tired. Let it wait until?—”

“Now,” I said.

The command in my voice was sufficient to make her look at me. Our eyes locked for a moment, a silent struggle taking place between us, then she nodded to her courtiers.

“Leave us.”

Muttering in irritation, the nobles filed out until the only ones left were four guards, Trag and Hoatan.

I looked at them. “I said alone.”

“By the Goddess, Essaphine! You know these two don’t leave me…”

“Perhaps they should,” I said. “There is treason among us, Mother, if what just happened hasn’t made that clear.”

“If there is treason, Princess,” Hoatan said calmly. “One imagines it might come from the girl who is clearly smitten with one of our enemies.”

Me? In love with Kit? Ha! I hated him for his lies— he’d bonded a dragon behind my back? —and yet when I tried to speak, the denial caught in my throat.

“I’m not talking about Kit,” I finally managed to say.

Mother sighed as if I were an exasperating child.

“Trag, guards, leave us. Hoatan will stay.”

Trag’s ugly, scarred face remained impassive as he bowed and strode from the room, guards at his side. Mother took her place on her throne and Hoatan took his on a stool just behind her, looking for all the world like an old bird on a perch.

“Say what you will, Essaphine,” Mother said wearily.

“The oracle told us?—”

The words roused Mother from her torpor like a slap of cold water.

“What? You saw the oracle?”

“Yes,” I said. “And she told me?—”

“Visiting the oracle is forbidden to any but the Queen,” Hoatan said, red-faced.

“I went and she granted me an audience,” I snapped. “Perhaps you’d like to know what she said?”

This shut them both up.

“I saw crates under the city, mother. Hundreds and thousands of them being moved into the catacombs.”

“Crates?” Mother said. “Filled with what?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I sent Rohree to investigate last night. She never came back.”

At last I had mother’s full attention. She rubbed a finger thoughtfully over her lips, her brow furrowed.

“The Admites’ doing, no doubt…” she muttered.

“If it’s even true, Your Majesty,” Hoatan said. “You know how unreliable the Oracle can be.”

“Those crates could be filled with the Admites’ vile explosives,” Mother mused. “Or they could be moving in troops in some clandestine fashion, ready to jump out at a signal and spring a trap. Invade us from within.”

“Impossible,” Hoatan said calmly—though he looked a shade paler than usual. “Such a thing could not have happened without our noticing. But it is an easy enough lie to suss out. I can send men to the catacombs now to learn the truth of it.”

“Good,” the Queen said. “Do it.”

“But don’t send the Lacunae,” I said.

Hoatan glared at me. “The Shadow Knights are our best warriors, princess. If there is truly a danger?—”

“They are of the Gray Brotherhood,” I said. “Which brings up the next question. How did the egg Kit stole survive?”

“Rather we might ask how he was able to steal an egg and raise a dragon while he was supposed to be under your watch,” Hoatan replied, but Mother raised a hand, silencing him.

“The Gray Brothers are supposed to be experts on dragon rearing,” I went on. “They’ve been telling us for years that fungus-infected eggs can’t hatch. They’ve been destroying them. But what if that’s not true? What if the eggs they’ve been destroying are good, viable eggs?”

“Ridiculous!” Hoatan said. “Why would Kortoi and his men destroy perfectly healthy dragon eggs?”

“Let’s think it through,” I shot back, turning Torouman rhetoric back on him. “What would the result of such an action be?”

“We’ve had fewer dragons,” Mother mused. “The Skrathan’s numbers have remained low. The riders have been weakened. We’ve had to rely more and more on the Prelate’s Lacunae. And the war has dragged on for decades…”

“In that time, the Gray Brothers have built up their foreign contacts,” I continued, picking up her thread of thought. “We rely on the Brothers and their connections with the sylph for critical trade. And we rely on the nobles convincing their tenant farmers to become soldiers. All of that reliance has served to weaken the crown and empower the Gray Brothers—and the nobility. What little power we have is all bent on fighting the URA for the one piece of land where dragon eggs still hatch, because without it, the strength of the Skrathan would slip away completely. They have made us weak, Mother. What would be the endgame of the Gray Brothers weakening the royals?”

“This is absurd—” Hoatan sputtered.

“Taking the crown,” Mother said. Her eyes met mine and she surged to her feet, wheeling on Hoatan.

“Send men to investigate the catacombs. Not the Lacunae— OUR men.”

“Your majesty—” Hoatan began, but she cut him off.

“And send our knights to the hatchery as well. Expel the Gray Brotherhood, bar the doors, and bid the Skrathan and their dragons to guard the remaining eggs until we get this sorted out.”

Though it seemed to pain him to do it, the Torouman bowed in acquiescence. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Now, about Kit,” I began.

Mother held up a hand, stopping me.

“Your council has been wise, Essaphine. We shall see how much truth is in your words. But that doesn’t mean your impertinence is forgotten or forgiven, and it doesn’t erase the foreigner’s crimes. He has bonded a dragon. For that, he must die. And once the dragon has been studied to see how it survived the fungus, it must die too. It would be far too dangerous to allow a dragon bonded to one of our enemies to live.”

Another protest boiled up in me, but I could see from the look in Mother’s eyes that I’d might as well shout at a slab of granite.

“You have a challenge to prepare for,” she went on. “In less than twenty-four hours, daughter, you will be able to bend my ear again as Irska of the Skrathan. Or else you will be in Prelate Kortoi’s dominion—a shade of the void. I suggest you prepare. I’m sure your aunt will be expecting a visit from you to conduct one last training session—now that your foreign tutor is indisposed.”

“And you will be preparing Laynine,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“As our tradition demands,” she said. “You’re dismissed.”

I bowed and went to leave. After I’d gone only a few paces, Mother’s iron voice called me back. “Essa.”

I turned to her.

“Whatever happens tomorrow... I love you.”

Her words hung in the air between us. I tried to remember the last time she’d said those words to me—if ever. Part of me wanted to say them back to her, those three words and so many more. So much had gone unsaid between us for so long. And this might be our last chance. If I lost tomorrow…

And yet, I could find no way to capture all I was feeling. No way to begin. So I merely gave her a nod and turned and strode from the room.