Page 12 of Magick and Lead (Dragons and Aces #2)

ESSA

I n the hush of predawn darkness, voices pulled me from sleep.

Shouts. The wailing of a child. I blinked my eyes open and stared at the raftered ceiling, momentarily disoriented.

Then, I remembered where I was. Not in my bedroom at the royal palace Charcain.

That place was gone, its opaline walls crumbled, and the beautiful capital city of Issastar was gone with it.

I was in the longhouse, in the village, a rebel in my own kingdom.

Another shout from outside. I rolled off my mattress, threw a cloak over my shoulders and strapped on my sword as I strode to the door.

What is it? I asked Othura as I went. She was sleeping outside and would already have eyes on the disturbance.

Country folk, she said. A lot of them. You’d better come.

I emerged from the longhouse to find a crowd of people gathered, half of them trying to talk at once. A tall woman stood at the crowd’s forefront, addressing Ollie. At the sight of me, there were a few exclamations.

“It’s Essaphine!”

“The queen!”

The whole crowd knelt as one. They were disheveled, I saw, with torn clothes and smudges of soot on faces. Some had injuries, cuts, burns, and bruises.

“Rise, please. What’s going on?” I asked.

Half a dozen of them began shouting at once.

“Quiet,” I called, and pointed to the tall woman at their forefront. “You. Speak.”

She nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. We’re from the village of Quorn, on the south side of the lake. We were attacked. They burned the farms, tore down the longhouse, and put everyone to the sword.”

“How many?” I demanded, a chill of rage flowing into my veins.

“We were a village of five hundred, Your Majesty. We are all that is left. Thirty-nine of us.”

Sobs erupted from somewhere behind the woman. Many buried their faces in their hands, but the woman continued to regard me with eyes as hard as granite.

“Who did it?” Ollie asked. “Lacunae? Golenae?”

The woman shook her head.

“Common folk. Like us. But they had a leader, a witch of the Gray Brotherhood. Lady Amberleigh, they call her.”

I looked to Ollie.

“You know her?”

Ollie frowned. “Lady Morlaya Amberleigh, I believe. I’ve heard the name.

She was from a noble family out of the east, the story goes, and was given as a tribute to the Brothers at a young age.

I don’t know much else about her. The Brothers have many acolytes, mages, mages in training.

.. Some of them are female. Many don’t advertise their power until it comes time to use it. ”

“She was very powerful,” the village woman said. “The fire that burned the villages came from her. But it…” She searched for words. “It wasn’t normal fire.” She shook her head, seeming to know her explanation was insufficient.

“What were they after?” Ollie asked. “Were they stealing food? Taking captives? Just killing indiscriminately?”

The woman’s haunted eyes landed on me. “They were searching for her. For the queen.”

At her words, my heart seemed to pause its beating.

“The mage said she could sense Essaphine was near the lake,” the woman went on.

“And she knew the people were harboring her. She demanded we produce Essaphine or tell her where she was. Of course, many of us knew you were here, Your Majesty, but no one would give up your location. Several of the strangers tried to convince us—they were commoners, like us, but they seemed to have allegiance to the Gray Brothers. They broke us up into groups and took us into rooms and started by telling us terrible lies about you, to convince us to join them.”

I set my jaw, my anger rising. “What sort of lies?”

The woman looked hesitant to answer, but she looked to an older man who nodded, encouraging her.

“They said… you… were a traitor,” she went on haltingly.

“That you’d betrayed Maethalia. They said—forgive me—they said you were whore to an Admite lord and that your mother died because you betrayed her to our enemies. ”

I felt anger coiling in my chest like a serpent. Ollie and I exchanged a glance.

“The other villagers, the strangers who came with the Gray Brothers—” the woman said.

“They had soot painted around their eyes. They tried to get us to convert to the religion of the Brothers. To swear allegiance to the Lords of the Void, as they had. We refused, but as the hours went on, they became more and more cruel. The things they did were…”

At this, finally, the woman broke, her face contorting into a sob.

“We are loyal to you, your majesty,” the woman said.

“No one told them. No one would ever… but they paid. They paid with their lives, they did. The Brothers and the witch left, finally. But they said they’d be back, and that when they returned, we’d better give up your location, or it would be much worse for us.

They’d already killed many of us. And they took the children of the village with them… ”

The woman’s words gave way to silence and trembling. I went to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, then looked to Pocha and Lure, who’d emerged from the longhouse.

“Lure, go to the village elders. Make sure these people get food, shelter, and clothing.”

Lure nodded, already moving.

“Pocha, take some Skrathan and go to Quorn. Look for survivors and find out what you can about the people who attacked them. But be cautious.”

She bowed. “Right away.”

I turned to Ollie. “Ollie, you speak with these survivors. Find out what you can about this witch and her goons.”

“Of course, Essa.” Ollie arched an eyebrow. “And may I ask what you will be doing?”

Ah, Ollie. My Torouman. Ever shrewd…

“I haven’t decided yet,” I said, a half-truth.

Then I turned on my heel and departed back into the longhouse.

As the crowd dispersed outside, I slipped back into the longhouse, changed into my fireproof battle cloak and leathers, and began stuffing items into my flight pack.

For some reason, my thoughts kept returning to Kit—Charlie.

The moment we’d spent together on the beach at Sand Crescent.

The moment we’d kissed in that hidden chamber above the palace ballroom.

The time in that dragon den on Dorhane when our bodies had met in a divine, primal clash, like the sea crashing against the shore.

But each time I thought of him, I made myself end the daydream the same way—by stabbing a knife into his heart.

When the packing was done, I reached out to Othura. She and the other dragons slept a half a league away in order to avoid scaring the villagers—people who had already been traumatized by golenae. But despite the distance, I could reach her easily with my mind.

Have you eaten? I asked. Are you ready to fly?

I’m always ready to fly with you, Dear Heart . But where are we flying to?

There was a slyness in her voice. Of course, she already knew. As usual, she knew my mind almost before I did.

What I wanted to do was fly to that village with Pocha and destroy that witch and the people who slaughtered those villagers.

That’s what a younger Essa would have done.

But I was not that Essa. I was queen now.

I had to think like a Torouman, not some headstrong, hundredth-ranked Skrathan.

And, though Pocha was wise enough to be cautious, the atrocities visited upon that village might well be designed to draw me out of hiding and capture me.

Lacunae, golenae, now Gray Mages—all were searching for me.

They knew I was nearby. No doubt the spirits of the void had confirmed it for them.

The witch had even said outright that she sensed me nearby.

They’d continue searching, continue harming my people, until they found me.

Or until they knew I was not here to be found. Staying here only endangered them.

Ollie would have me deliver myself up to my enemies, to go into their midst, as if a sheep could rule over a pack of jackals.

That was not a fate I was willing to accept…

A snore drew my attention, and I looked over to the shadowed corner where Dagar still lay sleeping, his long form sprawled on a straw mattress.

He’d been the most happy-go-lucky person I knew.

Now, he looked pale, drawn. He’d lost at least fifteen pounds since his dragon had died.

He was wasting away, fading. And next to him, in a pile of old blankets, the baby dragon, Parthar, sat, his glowing eyes blinking at me in the dimness.

When I reached out to him, no words came back, only a groan of sorrow.

He was fading, too. And though we’d moved their beds near one another, he’d come no closer to bonding with Dagar.

It all pointed back to the same choice. Leave this place so the villagers concealing me wouldn’t suffer.

Fly to Admar. Break Parthar’s bond with Charlie so he would be free to bond with Dagar.

Secure a Stellhan so I could forge my own future without bowing to my enemies.

And avenge my mother and my city by killing the traitorous man responsible for their downfall.

That was what I wanted, more than anything. To see Kit’s—Charlie’s—handsome face once again—as I plunged my knife into his chest.

But that would only be the beginning of my revenge. I had a list. Lord Natath and his nobles. Hoatan. And most of all, Prelate Kortoi. All would fall under my blade. But Charlie would be the first.

Of course, Ollie would counsel against it.

My friends would try to stop me. But I was queen.

Irska. Daughter of Queen Synaeda. Heir of Aulucia the White.

We were a dynasty forged in fire and blood.

And I had a score to settle, a kingdom to secure, and a crown to win.

Though fear made my hand tremble as I cinched up my pack, though something like heartbreak burned in my chest, I knew what I had to do.

Where are we flying to? Othura had asked.

Across the sea to Admar, I replied.