Page 8

Chapter 8

Tahlia

T he Brass Lantern stood in the outer bailey of the castle among the houses and shops of the common folk and craftsfae. Though the sign looked ready to drop from age, the inside was rather pleasant. A fire crackled on one side of the large main room and tables in all shapes and sizes sat in clusters to create a pathway for the servers bringing trays of food and drink. Everything smelled delightfully of bread.

Tahlia had no time for bread at the moment though—stones, wasn’t that a sad thought? Bread was the stuff of dreams. But so was seeing the High Captain and his inkings in the bathing chamber.

She tugged at the neckline of her tunic. “Is it overly warm in here?”

“I don’t think so. I’m freezing. As usual.” Fara eyed her. “You’re red. What’s wrong? Are you sick? Was anyone coughing in the bathing chamber? I’ve heard there is an ague going around. I’ll go get you an herbal tea. My grandmother used to say?—”

Tahlia snagged her arm. “Fara. Breathe. I’m not sick. Just…nervous.” She hadn’t told her friend about the wonderfully horrible mistake in the bathing chambers. Fara would have exploded from fret. “I’m fine.”

But what would Marius say about the fact that she had seen him naked from the waist up? And why was she thinking of him as Marius? It was a nice name though. Just as nice as the way that water had slid down his body to that place near his hip… A shuddering breath left her.

“He isn’t here,” Fara said over Tahlia’s shoulder. “I wonder if they know about the blood. They’ve found you out,” she whispered.

Tahlia waved her worry away. “Don’t catastrophize. He’s here somewhere. If they had discovered our secret, the mountain guard would already be dragging me to prison or whatever horrible thing you were afraid of.”

“You might think your little pep talk is helpful, but I assure you, it is not.”

In the far corner behind a group of green-skinned males who all had the same nose shape, Marius sat at a table alone. His brow furrowed as he read through a stack of parchment. He grabbed a small scarlet book beside the stack and scribbled something inside. His quill bobbed and he paused to touch his chin as if in deep thought. The light of the tavern’s sconces, candles, and fire drew out shining lines of gold in his moon-white hair. He’d pulled it back into a queue.

Tahlia took an unsteady breath. He was really far too lovely to be scary. Even the scar that ran all the way down his face worked to make him alluring. “I see him.”

“Uh, yeah, I can tell you do.”

Tahlia whipped around to look at Fara, who was grinning.

“Don’t let him muddle your mind, Tahlia. He may be as hot as his dragon’s fire, but he is also just as dangerous considering the trick you’ve played on him and his associates to get here.”

“I’ll be smart. Try to stop worrying.”

“Sure. Next I’ll stop my heart from beating. No problem.”

Tahlia chuckled. Giving her friend a quick tap on the arm, she walked away and toward Marius’s table.

He looked up as she approached and his stern expression faltered, lips parting slightly and eyes widening a fraction. “You?”

Oh, he hadn’t known he was assigned to her. Should she apologize for barging in on his bath? Or just let it be and forget it happened? His expression showed contempt. He hated her. She’d have to change that.

“Yes, me,” she said. “I hope they gave you all the potential competitors’ information there.” Glancing at the parchments and book, Tahlia slid into the chair across from him, folded her arms on the table, and smiled as she looked into his storm-gray eyes. “I’m thrilled to have been assigned to you for my interview.”

“You shouldn’t be. I’m the toughest interviewer on the mountain.”

And the best looking in the baths. Swallowing, she cleared her throat. “Well, what would you like to know?”

“I’ll be the one asking questions.”

“Of course, sir. As you wish.”

He sifted through his parchment until he found what he was looking for and held it aloft. “Potential competitor five. Hmm.”

With a grunt, he studied the written lines. He looked like someone had poked him with a sharp stick. What did that hmm mean?

“The committee,” he said with that gravelly voice of his, “states here that you spent years at Grimsbrook.”

“I did.”

His gaze whipped across her face. “Say that in full, please.”

He wanted her Fae blood to stop any deceit from spilling from her lips. But he didn’t know she was half-human and could lie fairly well.

Meeting his gaze, she said, “I trained at Grimsbrook for six years.”

Blinking and nodding, he went back to his page. “What sub-breeds did you work with there?”

She had worked with several kinds even though she’d only been at Grimsbrook for a short time. Most of what she knew of dragons, she’d learned from books and scrolls.

“Green-flanked Terrors, for one,” she said.

“What did you learn about the greens?”

What did he want to hear? “They eat twice as much if you let them, but they don’t need that much to be healthy. Their flame travels farther than any other breed’s. They were originally nocturnal and are prone to eye strain, so they work better longer if given protracticol before a day flight.”

“What are the risks involved with that concoction?”

“Lethargy if given too much. And addiction. They enjoy the feel of the herbs in their bloodstream.”

He set both hands on the table. They were easily twice the size of hers. For the thousandth time, she wished she were bigger. It would make riding easier and would keep so many from underestimating her.

“Tell me about another sub-breed you rode at Grimsbrook.”

“I rode a Heartsworn that was a bit smaller than your dragon.” She waited for him to comment, but he remained silent. She cleared her throat. “She didn’t want me on her back because Heartsworns are loyal to a fault and she was bonded with a male there. I wore his cloak to give her his scent, but she bucked me off almost immediately.” Maybe she shouldn’t have told him that. “I also rode a Spikeback and used its shorter bursts of fire in close sparring.”

Cocking his head to the side, he studied her face. Was he about to order her to leave the mountain? Was it over already?

“What would you command your dragon to do if you were surrounded by three enemy dragons and their riders?”

The questions went on and on from there until Tahlia’s stomach was growling with hunger. She coughed to cover the sound and prayed this interview would end before she died of starvation. The whole tavern smelled like bread and meat and it was such a torture. Fara would have already perished.

“Well, you do know your dragons,” Marius said. His voice was powerful even at this low volume. It was obvious that he had Mistgold to spare in his blood. “Now, tell me,” he commanded. “Why do you want to do this? Why leave a safe life on the ground for one in the sky surrounded by fire and pirates’ iron?”

Tahlia’s heart lifted and thudded in her ears. “I wouldn’t be who I am if I chose the safer route in life. Flying on dragonback is the only time I truly feel like myself.”

A smile tugged at one side of his mouth, the most she’d seen of a happy expression in the male. Warmth filled her chest and ran up into her cheeks. It was fun getting him to let go of that sternness. Plus it was an interesting challenge trying to please someone so steely and generally disgruntled.

“As soon as I get the approval from the Bloodworkers,” he said, “I will put your name in for the lists.”

Squeezing her hands in her lap to keep from leaping up like a maniac to celebrate, she listened to his list of questions concerning Fara’s squire-like qualities as well as inquiries as to what skills Tahlia had besides riding.

“And what weapon do you choose on the ground?” he asked.

“The gladius.”

His glance hooked her sharply. “A longer sword would be better for one as short-limbed as you.”

Tahlia pursed her lips. “I’m pretty good with it.”

He nodded and jotted the word down under her name in his scarlet book. Was that his personal record of competitors or was that some official book?

“In the sky?”

“Bow.”

“Have you tried a whip?”

Her gaze went to his shoulder. His whip was no longer curled there, but she remembered its tidy braid and the sheen of the well-oiled leather.

“I haven’t. Will you teach me? That would be amazing.”

“No, I don’t have time. You don’t have the luxury of additional training either. The events will begin at dawn tomorrow with the Presentation of the Competitors, and I have word King Lysanael and Queen Revna will be in attendance. After that, you will be tested on ground weapons and flying. A short break will be provided in the early afternoon before the mock sky battle. If you are still alive at that point, you will be required to attend the announcement of the one who has earned the open position.”

“I can’t wait.”

“That answer only shows ignorance.”

“I’m not supposed to be excited about the tournament?”

“It’s a deadly challenge. Some don’t make it through.”

“No one has died in the tournament in years. Actually, none that I’ve heard about since you were given your current rank.” He might have seemed cold, but he ran a good show here, if the stats were any indication.

He waved off her attempt at subtle praise. “You should temper your joy. It will make you reckless in the clouds. I know. I’ve seen it.”

“Temper your joy. You’re even worse at pep talks than me.” Tahlia couldn’t help herself; she chuckled.

Marius just glared.

“High Captain?” A male in Mist Knight livery bowed beside the table.

“Yes?”

“I have blood test results you should see.”

Tahlia’s veins ran with ice. This was it. Would her and Fara’s trick fly?

“Thank you,” Marius said as he took a sealed scroll from the messenger.

The seal was the same blue as the livery, but the image in the wax showed a whip and a crystal—had to be Marius’s sigil.

“Don’t you use your family’s sigil? Did your father or mother also use the whip?”

“I chose my own sigil when I arrived here.”

“But why not carry on your family’s sigil?”

“Has anyone ever told you that it’s rude to pry into people’s pasts?”

“They have tried.” She grinned and tried to make that glare fade. No such luck. “Sorry. I’ll let you keep your secrets.”

“I doubt you’ve kept a secret your entire life.”

“You don’t know me.”

He cracked the seal but kept his stormy gaze on her. “I know you are intelligent, reckless, and you run your pretty lips like a drunken bard playing a lute.”

Pretty? Her face went hot.

Sniffing, he focused on the scroll’s contents. Someone with a lantern passed by the outside window and their light spread over Marius’s throat and his upper chest where his shirt gaped a little. A curve of his inking showed.

Marius frowned and she dragged her gaze away from the smooth skin of his upper chest.

“Do you want to know what the Bloodworkers say of your blood?” he asked.

She held very still. “Yes.”

“You have a high rating of Mistgold in your veins as well as a hint of human.”

Her jaw unclenched and she took a full breath. Thank the Old Ones.

“You must come from an old line of dragon riders,” he continued, “because no one up here has a human in their ancestry.”

Fara’s blood showed she had at least one human ancestor? Tahlia didn’t think her friend knew that. Now, if the workers had been studying Tahlia’s blood in truth, they’d have seen basically no Mistgold and a load of human ancestry…

Nodding, she tried to appear confident. She relaxed her hands on the table and leaned back. “I don’t know of any humans, but I suppose someone could have kept it secret.”

“It’s certainly nothing to be proud of.”

“Humans aren’t that bad.”

“Aren’t they?”

“The queen is a great ruler.” It had been a shock when King Lysanael had married and mated with the human, but it was so far, so good with her on the throne.

“True,” Marius said, “but she is an exception.”

“How many humans have you known?”

Why was she arguing? She needed to shut her mouth and end this thing as quickly as possible before she messed up.

Marius’s nostrils flared. “We’re finished here. I know what I need to know.”

Her pulse stamped against her neck like an impatient horse. Holding her tongue was more difficult than her moments spent on that Heartsworn’s back.

“I should fail you,” he said. “I should save your life.”

“You don’t think I can do this.” She realized she had leaned forward and was fisting her hands on the table. Relaxing her fingers, she tried to slow her breathing.

“I do not. You are too small, too rash around dragons, and ignorant of the risks in the life you are attempting to begin.”

“But you said should . That you should fail me. That means you are only considering it.”

“The most important trait for a dragon rider is courage. If you prove that you aren’t as ignorant of the risks, then you might be the bravest person I’ve ever met. The way you leapt in front of Ragewing…” The spot between his eyebrows wrinkled and he shook his head slightly, his gaze going wistful. “The youngling alone could have ended you before you could shout I’m an idiot .”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I’ve seen riders scorched to ash during the bonding period. I lost two friends at Grimsbrook and I wasn’t even—” Tahlia stopped herself. She’d almost told him the truth about not being there for very long. “I have seen the dark side of riding dragons. But what kind of Mist Knight would I be if I didn’t risk my life to save a youngling? There are so few! Have you read up on the latest report of breeding in the wilderness beyond Sunthrone?”

“I…”

“It’s terrible. We must make younglings and breeding a priority. There are worse ways to die than for a cause one believes in.”

Tilting his head, he studied her, and his gaze was like a touch on her cheeks, her forehead… He wasn’t meeting her eyes. Quickly, he began studying the parchment he’d been reading when she’d walked up.

“You are in. For now,” he said without glancing her way. “I will send a Leatherworker to you for a fitting immediately. Meet her in your chamber. The guards will know where to find you. Dismissed.”

Tahlia stared, her body frozen. She was in. She was allowed to compete for a place in the Mist Knights. This was no dream. It was real. True. Mentally stirring herself to action, she grabbed his hand to shake it.

“Thank you, sir…” The feel of his warm, calloused hand on hers sent heat simmering up her arm. Blinking, she licked her lips. His gaze snagged on her mouth and remained. “I mean, High Captain. Thank you! You won’t regret this decision.”

She released his hand and slid out of the chair. Without a backward look, she strode into the tavern crowd to seek out Fara. They had to get back to the chamber for the fitting and for sleep. Tomorrow, it all began.

“I was born to ride dragons,” she whispered to herself, “and no one can steal my fate.”