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ESSA

I knelt before Mother.

Her face betrayed no emotion as she drew a beautiful longsword from its sheath. It was Lohath, the sword of the Irska—an ancient star steel blade which had been found with Paemalla’s body—even more powerful than the royal sword I already carried. For a moment she paused, her eyes moving up and down the length of the blade. Then she spoke in a loud, clear voice.

“Since the days of Aulucia the White, the royals of this house have served as lead dragon riders,” she said. “Many times there have been those who doubted that Torholt blood would be able to rise to the challenge and maintain the crown.”

Here she glanced at Lord Natath.

“And many times, those doubters have been silenced. We will not forget Laynine. We loved her as a daughter. And yet, the providence of the Gods may not be denied. Let any who would challenge the right of this crown to rule—whether they be across the sea or closer to home— take warning: all who challenge us will share Laynine’s fate.”

Her attention returned to me. Her words about Laynine— we loved her as a daughter —still rang in my ears. They stung, but it did not diminish the sense of pride I felt as Mother lowered the sword, touching its tip to my shoulder.

“Essaphine Torholt. You, who went from the hundredth flyer to the first, we applaud your feat. Just as you defeated Laynine to take power over the Skrathan, so you will destroy our necromancer enemies across the sea. It is therefore with pride that I name you Irska, first of the Maethalian dragon riders.”

Mother touched the tip of the sword to my other shoulder, then to the top of my head, then she turned it around to offer me the hilt.

The wave of applause was bracing, but not nearly as loud as it had been while the battle was going on. The sight of Laynine’s blood had turned the mood somber, and even the fiery sense of triumph I’d felt a moment before had cooled and hardened like a blade on an anvil.

Mother’s words had me thinking of the future. I’d won the challenge. Now, I’d have to lead our flyers in battle with the URA aces and their death machines, a task even more daunting. And I’d have the lives of ninety-nine other Skrathan in my hands.

Perhaps I shouldn’t take the sword. Perhaps I should just stand and walk away... But I had reasons to become Irska that went beyond duty and honor. The vision… those crates… Mother hadn’t listened to her daughter, hadn’t taken the danger seriously enough. But she’d have to listen to the leader of her dragon riders.

I reached out and took the sword.

Horns blew from the battlements, the signal that the challenge was over and the next phase of the event was set to begin—the feast. Commoners would return to their homes and share a festive meal. The nobility would move to the palace’s great hall and enjoy a vast spread of food and drink to toast the new Irska. They’d already begun filing into the palace.

Mother too, began to turn, nodding to her guards to lead the way inside, but I stopped her.

“Wait.”

She turned back, wariness and annoyance on her regal face.

“My wish,” I said.

It was customary for anyone accomplishing a great victory or receiving an honor from the queen to make a wish. Normally it was for something like a chest of gold, permission to marry a sweetheart, or a title of nobility. And normally, the queen invited the wish, saying something like, ask anything of me and it shall be granted.

I didn’t doubt that her omission, in my case, had been deliberate.

Her smile was forced. “Name your wish, Irska.”

The line of nobles that had been moving toward the palace paused, many of them turning to listen. Noticing them, Mother’s smile slipped. She knew exactly what was coming next.

“Spare the life of the foreigner Kit Rowley,” I said.

Her eyes flashed with displeasure.

“Essa…”

“That is my wish,” I said. “Let me take him back to his homeland. You will not see him again. He will be separated from his bonded dragon, which is punishment enough. Just let him live.”

“That I cannot do.”

“Cannot or will not?” I demanded.

Mother’s lips tightened. If I were little girl, I’d have braced myself for a slap.

“We shall discuss this further in private,” she said quietly. “Any reasonable request you have, ask it. But the life of Kit Rowley you shall not have. Tomorrow at dawn he dies. Be grateful you still live.”

She turned with a flourish of her royal skirts and made her way toward the palace, leaving no option but to follow.

On the way inside, Ollie pulled me into a tight hug.

“You did it, Essa,” he whispered.

He tried to let me go, but I continued to hold onto him, bringing my mouth close to his ear. “Bring Lure, Pocha, Clua and Dagar to my chamber after the feast. Armed and wearing dark clothing. Is Rohree back?”

“Not yet. But Essa…” He pulled back and locked eyes with me. “Your dream has just come true. Don’t throw it away.”

“My dreams are only beginning, Ollie,” I said. “Come.”

Rather than following the others into the castle, I turned from the flow of the crowd and went to Othura, who stood to one side, receiving accolades from those who had watched us today.

“Never have I seen such a small dragon fight so well,” one was saying.

“Truly a noble beast,” another agreed.

They all bowed and scattered as Ollie and I approached.

Othura. You okay? I asked, putting a hand on her snout.

I’ll be fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been scrambled by lightning, she reminded me. They’ll have a brace of roasted goats waiting for me at the hatchery. I’ll eat and have a good nap. That will set me right.

Good. Will you be able to ? —?

But she was my dragon. I didn’t even have to finish the question.

I’ll be ready to fly tonight, she said.

* * *

At the feast, I suffered through endless speeches commemorating my battle prowess, toasts to my name, and even an impromptu song about me by one of the kingdom’s foremost bards, the famous Lucian Burke—though most of the nobles, knights, and Skrathan around me seemed more focused on the fine food and drink spread before them than on me. I couldn’t help but wonder what the response would have been if Laynine had won instead of me. Would the celebration have been more enthusiastic? Or less? No one would have been surprised if Laynine had slain the defective princess. And yet there were many whose faces looked sullen now who would have been happy to embrace Laynine as their leader.

I picked at my food, hardly able to eat, and drank big gulps of water while leaving my mead and wine untouched. Mother sat to my right in her throne and I could feel her watching me. Beyond her, Prelate Kortoi and Hoatan sat, watching me less obviously but just as intently.

Would this be my last time sitting at this table, after what I was about to do? Was Ollie right? Was I foolish to risk everything for Kit?

Probably. But there was no way I could let him die.

The feast went on with excruciating slowness. One by one, nobles came up before my table to express their congratulations. Skrathan paraded before me as well, saluting me as their new leader. Most were stone-faced. A few openly sneering. Only Lure, Pocha and Dagar seemed truly pleased.

By the end I felt ready to collapse on the table, though I wasn’t sure whether it was the challenge or the party that exhausted me more. I forced myself to eat a few sweet cakes and drink a cup of tea, fortifying myself for the night ahead.

Lord Natath and Kortoi were among the last to come and pay their respects, and they came up together.

“An impressive victory, Princess,” Natath said with a bow. “The nobility looks forward to working with you as the Irska of the Skrathan. And I, personally, look forward to honoring you as heir to the crown.”

His lecherous grin made my skin crawl.

He stepped aside as Kortoi gave me a bow.

“Congratulations, Princess Essaphine,” he said. “We are truly at the beginning of a new era. In my scrying I have seen it. Many changes are coming to our capital—and the world. I hope the new epoch will find us aligned so we may work together to eliminate the enemies of our beloved kingdom.”

I gave him a nod. “We are both survivors, Prelate Kortoi. I have no doubt whatever events your scrying has foretold, we will both meet it with ferocity, and the Brothers and the Skrathan will receive the glory and power they each deserve.”

Kortoi flashed a crooked smile. “Spoken like a true diplomat,” he said. “One word of warning. Keep an eye on the weather, Princess. There is a storm coming.”

I had no doubt there was some deeper significance to his smug pronouncement, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Why all mystics had such a tiresome penchant for speaking in riddles was a question I didn’t have time to consider.

“I’ll keep a cloak handy,” I said, trying to sound as dismissive as possible, though his warning chilled me. The two men bowed and moved along.

And so it went with toasts and compliments, congratulations and honors, gifts and oaths until the final pour of dessert wine was served noble ladies were yawning and being escorted from the room, ceding the space to the more serious drinkers, who would not cease emptying the queen’s wine until someone took their cups away.

Only then did Mother see fit to release me from my duty. “Essa, you must be tired,” she said. “You have been kind to share your glory with us. Go, if you wish. Wash up and sleep. You will need what rest you can get, for your duties as Irska begin tomorrow.”

I rose, bowed, and let Ollie escort me from the room.

“Well, that was excruciating,” I said.

“What?” Ollie asked. “Slaughtering your cousin, or enduring all that praise?”

“Hard to say which was worse,” I said. His words brought forth a grotesque vision of Laynine, all that dark blood, the way her body had spasmed… I couldn’t believe that she was gone, and that I had killed her. Nausea twisted my gut, threatening to bring up what little food I’d eaten.

We were in the garden courtyard now, passing the Oerl Stream. At its head, the waterfall called the Tears of Cheselie rumbled in the darkness. Impulsively, I kicked off my boots and jogged off the cobblestone path, through the long grass and into the water with a splash.

“What, are you drunk?” Ollie called after me, no hint of amusement in his voice.

I dashed my head under and let the frigid water wash over me for a count of ten. Then I burst back out, whipping my hair back and wiping the water out of my eyes with my hand. I strode back to shore feeling awake and invigorated again.

“Not drunk,” I said clapping a hand on Ollie’s shoulder. “Just filthy and exhausted with no time for a bath or sleep tonight. Here, carry my boots. You gathered the others?”

His expression darkened, but he nodded as he followed me across the courtyard.

In my chambers, we found Lure and Pocha engaged in a game of Torzame. Dagar was eating a whole berry pie that looked to have been pilfered from the feast, and Clua was on the rug, doing pushups. I couldn’t imagine a more appropriate milieu in which to find my friends and the sight brought a smile to my lips. But sorrow came close upon its heels at the thought that I would soon leave them—and I might never be welcomed back.

“Let me guess,” Lure said without looking up from the game board. “You’ve fallen in love with the foreigner and you want our help rescuing him before they execute him tomorrow.”

I put my hands on my hips. “No, actually. Rescuing a prisoner of the crown is a capital offense. I would never ask you to do that... I’m doing that myself.”

Clua looked up me with one eyebrow cocked. “What do you need from us, then?”

“I need you all to rescue his dragon.”

* * *

By the time I’d laid out my plan, it was nearly midnight and exhaustion was nipping at me like a hound. We all agreed to get a few hours’ sleep, Pocha, Lure and I jammed into my bed, Ollie on the lounge, and Dagar with his big frame stretched out on the floor.

The next thing I knew, my friends were bustling around me, strapping on weapons.

Pocha touched my shoulder gently. “I made them let you sleep a little longer. You needed it. But if we want to beat the dawn, we’d better go.”

I threw off my blanket and rose, instantly awake and sharp at the knowledge of what lay ahead.

Clua tossed me a sweet roll from a basket she’d brought and I caught it and took a bite. My hunger had caught up with me and I wished I could take another crack at the feast that had been before me a few hours earlier, but there was little time to eat now. The few rations Clua had brought might have to last for days.

“Everyone know their roles?” I asked through a mouthful of bread.

There were nods all around.

I was grateful for these friends, for this crew of warriors—but it wasn’t lost on me that my first act as Irska was to order them to commit treason. Not an auspicious start…

“So after we get the dragon, we’ll meet up with you and Kit?” Pocha asked.

I shook my head. “No. I have no idea how soon they’re planning to execute Kit. First priority has to be getting him out of Maethalia. We’ll worry about reuniting him with his dragon later.”

When everyone seemed to be in agreement, I gave a nod. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

No one spoke as they filed grimly out, leaving only me and Ollie behind. When they were gone, he shut the door, locked it, and turned to me.

I crossed my arms. “Let me guess,” I said. “You’re going to tell me not to do it.”

Ollie was ever the deep thinker, but the look in his eyes was a more complex one than I’d ever seen from him in a long time. There was sadness there. Regret, maybe. Anger. And some other zealous light I hardly recognized, almost like the spark of madness that had inhabited Braimar since his dragon’s head died.

“I’m not going to tell you not to do it,” he said. “I can already tell your mind is made up. I’m going to tell you not to come back.”

I laughed, shocked. “What?”

But I could tell from his face that he was deadly serious.

“Why?” I demanded.

“I can’t tell you. Don’t ask. But if you trust me, Essa, if you believe I care about you, then I beg you to listen. Stay away for three days.”

“Why?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. “Are the Torouman finally dealing with Kortoi?”

He put his hands on my shoulders. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Don’t be vague with me. If there’s violence, I should be here. Kortoi’s Lacunae are powerful. You’ll need the Skrathan. And the Irska must lead them.”

Ollie shook his head. “No. It will be worse if you’re here, believe me. Go. Drop your Kit off in his homeland. Then return to Maethalia and find someplace on the coast to hide out for a couple of days. A cave, an abandoned farm, anything. Rest. Keep out of sight. When you return, all will be well.”

“But what are you?—?”

“The less you know the better, Essa.”

My eyes locked on his for a long moment as I tried to plumb the depths of his thoughts. Hoatan and his Torouman were always cooking up some sort of political maneuver. Like all great Torzame players, they were ruthless, and always looking two steps ahead. I didn’t like following plans I didn’t understand. And yet, for hundreds of years the crown had survived by following the wise council of the Torouman. I would be foolish to defy them now.

“Fine. But have Lure and the others reach out through Othura to keep me updated. And keep them all safe. Promise?”

He nodded. I took his hands and squeezed. They were unusually clammy. He was more nervous than he was letting on…

He pulled me into a hug, then, so tight it almost hurt. I felt him trembling.

“Ollie, you’re scaring me,” I said.

“Don’t be scared, Essa,” he whispered, his lips pressed to the top of my head. “All will be well. Just remember, everything I do is for you.”