Page 7

Four

I frowned at the bird, then gestured back at the garden, where the man wearing foreign clothes was still staring.

He walked toward Turtle House and out of my line of sight, and I waved aside Terror’s annoyed chortle and hurried into the living space and then down the steps and out into the hall, where there was… no one.

No one at all.

A servant had followed me down the steps, and Asahi leapt out in front of me.

“What is it?” He looked around, hand poised above his sword.

“I thought I saw someone,” I said, feeling confused. I hadn’t thought I’d seen someone; I had seen someone. Someone dressed in foreign clothes and who was…

Well, now I was beginning to sound like General Kacha. All I needed was to brag about a military campaign and offer someone a delicacy that took seven hours to make, and we’d be identical. Only he saw northern warriors in Krustavian soldiers where I saw what?

I didn’t even recognize the clothes other than to know they were foreign. Or at least foreign to the perfectly maintained palace.

Asahi frowned, then waved his arm, and an Emperor’s Dog I hadn’t noticed slid from the shadows next to my door.

“Search Turtle House,” Asahi commanded. I grimaced a smile when I saw the new man, not sure what expression I had, only knowing that something was very wrong.

“Go back to your rooms,” Asahi said.

I glared at him. “I am a northern warrior. I can handle myself.”

“You are the emperor’s consort,” Asahi said. “And His Imperial Majesty would be very upset if I lost you.”

I flushed, suddenly highly aware of the awkwardness. In my own kingdom, I hadn’t even been allowed to go on hunts, the value of my life measured by my mother’s ambition to kill an emperor. Here, I wasn’t allowed to discover who was stalking my private garden because Tallu might be sad if I died.

Or, at least, his people thought that. The reality was he might only be sad that he had one less tool he could use. My purpose, even here, was limited.

Unhappily, I followed Asahi’s directions, returning to my room and shutting the door on a nervous Nohe.

“There was no one there,” Terror said, the tone of his voice cranky.

I turned to the other two birds. “Did you see anything?”

“No,” the first one said.

“Are you sure I must wait until its babes are full-grown? I cannot eat the mouse now?” The other raven cocked its head at me, opening its beak and snapping it shut.

“Perhaps I could even eat its babes now. I would make quick work of it. They would not suffer. I prefer rats when I can get them, too many bones in mice, but if I ate all of them at once, perhaps it would be as good as a rat.”

“Ratcatcher,” I addressed it. “Imagine how much better it will taste if you wait.”

“I am imagining. That is part of the problem,” Ratcatcher grumbled.

“Do you have names?” I asked the two new birds.

“I like Ratcatcher,” Ratcatcher said. “It is much better than the one chosen for me.”

I looked expectantly at the other bird, who finally bowed his head. “Dawn.”

The name was female, and I kicked myself at my own ignorance.

The trouble was that males and females looked too similar.

“I’m looking for information around the palace.

Things that people say when they think no one is listening.

” I considered my deal with Terror, then said, “I will pay more if you can tell me who said it, or at least what they were wearing.”

“And you will give us good food?” Dawn asked. “On time?”

“I will give you food as soon as you give me information.”

“About anything?” Ratcatcher asked, looking at Terror for confirmation.

“Anything they are saying when they think no one is listening,” I confirmed.

“I accept,” Dawn said, and Ratcatcher chuckled his own agreement.

“Consider this a token of gratitude.” I went to the table, taking another bowl filled with meaty nuts.

I offered it over to them, and Ratcatcher hopped close to Dawn in order to consume them quickly.

When they finished, they both stared at me, heads tilted, beaks opening and closing, suggesting I go find more food.

“Oh, no,” I said. “A token of gratitude. Not a full meal. For that, you need to bring me information.”

The birds grumbled and launched themselves into the air, taking flight and landing on a building far enough away that I felt comfortable turning to Terror.

“This is a very good deal for you. Why did you decide to share it with them?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t imagine you’re doing it out of fondness for other birds.” I consider him again. “Or even fondness for me.”

“No, not fondness for you.” Terror gave an awkward hop, leaping from foot to foot before chuckling again and leaning close.

I met him halfway, ducking my head, and he hopped onto my arm, climbing up until he was on my shoulder.

His beak was very close to my ear when he said, “Even I, a bird, can tell that you are playing a very dangerous game. If you should die doing it, then you will no longer be able to feed me. Do you understand?”

“You’re doing this so that I won’t die?” I raised both eyebrows, somewhere between incredulous and amused.

“Well. If you prefer, I’m happy to let you die from your own incompetence,” Terror said, offended. I thought the bird would fly off, but instead, it crouched lower, its talons digging into my shoulder.

In the north, animal speakers wore thick patches on their shoulders made of leather. Hawks and ravens could cling tightly to them without damaging the animal speaker’s shoulder.

Silk jackets were not meant for animal speakers. Then again, animal speakers were forbidden here; even a hint of foreign magic could get someone killed.

Of course, speaking with animals was the least of my illegal activities. Careful of the raven on my shoulder, I sat cross-legged on one of the low seats near the table.

When we were both settled, I took the gold box out of my jacket pocket. When I opened it, sunlight sparkled on the lid, and Terror shifted, trying to see inside the box.

“What is it?” Terror asked. “Food?”

I snorted, considering the dragon egg. Part of me still thought perhaps the egg itself wasn’t real; perhaps it had just been like a stuffed toy given to a small child to comfort them in the dark.

Our mother had only given it to Eona? because she knew my sister wouldn’t live long enough to realize it would never hatch.

But my mother was mercenary. Not cruel. And it would have been cruel to give Eona? a gorgeous rock and claim it was an egg.

Thrumming in my hands, the egg vibrated so I felt it under my skin. It was alive. It was .

Which made it possibly the last ice dragon to survive.

The dragons—all of them—had been hunted to extinction when my mother was young. Ice dragons were the first killed; the others had lasted longer. Ice was easier to bear for dragon hunters than volcanoes, I supposed.

After he killed the One Dragon, the dragon that used to decide their kings, Tallu’s great-grandfather had declared himself emperor and founded the Southern Imperium.

Then, because apparently the family didn’t do anything in half measures, he and his son decided to kill all the dragons and sent hunters and soldiers out to smash nests and take down the beasts.

It had taken nearly two emperors, but they’d succeeded before Millu had taken the crown.

The only stories I knew about ice dragons were how they could freeze a town for the insolence of trying to protect its livestock from becoming dragon dinner and one about how the great northern bear had fought a mother ice dragon over a cave both wanted for their young.

So the north hadn’t mourned when the dragons, with their ravenous appetites and penchants for eating whole herds, disappeared under the reign of Tallu’s grandfather. Maybe we would have if we’d known what the first emperor’s destiny led to. That the seer’s words were not simply about dragons.

Emperor… no, he’d been a king when it had happened.

King Wollu had been told that his line would unite the continent.

Which was a promise that he would have a line, and the kingdom that would become the Southern Imperium had no need of the One Dragon to choose its rulers when Wollu had been told his line would be the last.

“Does it live?” Terror asked finally, observing the fractals of ice covering the egg, the silver and blue and the iridescent shine. “Can I eat the last dragon egg?”

“No. You can’t eat it. It is… hope, I guess,” I said. “If we’re lucky. If we’re unlucky, a death sentence.”

I put the egg back carefully, tucking it into the velvet and latching the box closed. Then, I leaned over the table, picking up a chunk of cheese and offering it to Terror when someone knocked at the door. I opened it to find Asahi, his expression unhappy.

“We found no one,” he said finally. “We will continue searching, but until the person is found, I suggest you leave the building.”

Something close to anxiety pitted in my stomach. What if Terror was right? What if there had been no one, and my eyes had simply been playing tricks on me?

“Thank you,” I said.

“I’ll escort you,” Asahi said. Then he stood, waiting until I left the room, following behind me.

How did Tallu stand it? I had had Asahi at my back for days, and I still couldn’t get used to the idea of someone right behind me, his eyes on me, his expression hidden behind a mask.

It was like having a particularly devoted ghost haunting me.

I amused myself with the idea of Asahi and Sagam as dueling ghosts, each striving to scare the palace maids more, but then remembered their exchange earlier.

What had they passed between them? Could I just order Asahi to empty his pockets so I could see whatever it was?

No, likely he’d already stashed it somewhere secret. He would never just leave it for me to find.

I was so distracted by my thoughts that I walked straight into a trap.