Page 5

Chapter four

Sifa

I’m Searching

T he rest of the day does not go smoothly on the bumpy trail we’re following, but at least we’re not bound and headed to prison.

We are, though, still traveling toward the training grounds. We’ve got hours left. I’m stuck in the carriage again, and my thoughts keep replaying our stop. Drawing up his face, examining every scar, the cut of his chin, the shape of his eyes. My mind’s eye imagines the markings that lead up chiseled arms to a broad chest, and then down to parts I can’t stop thinking about. Fantasizing about.

Even now, my veins throb with repugnance, so strong it threatens to tie me up in knots, mixed with a fervor I haven’t felt in the centuries I’ve been alive.

By the gods, I need to do everything I can to stay away from that man.

At least it keeps my mind off my fear of getting too close to a Nest. Of being captured again.

We finally make it to the mansion I’m told always houses the bedmates when they come. It’s vast, capable of holding a hundred people or more. I’ve witnessed a lot of opulence in my life, but this is one of the most lavish estates I’ve ever seen. More than anything else in this land, it highlights the fortune that smiles on dragon riders here. Reportedly chosen by the Dróttning because they already possess power—and spurning the bonds that would naturally form between dragons and the riders the fates chose for them—dragon riders have many rights and few responsibilities.

In principle, they’re obligated to protect Vanatia from threats but there are none. The Dróttning controls her land with an iron fist, and no one has challenged her in the decade I’ve been here. Although I hear talk of a rebellion, it’s impotent, so far as I can tell. Some dragon riders work in one of the Nests and others serve by punishing any who stray from the Dróttning’s firm grip—which those riders and dragons are rumored to enjoy a bit too much. But many dragons are simply toys of the elite, with no job beyond ferrying their riders around.

As I inspect the estate, I’m relieved to see it’s different enough from the northern Nest to not remind me of my time there. It’s not what I expected. Where the Nest is dark—caves and cells hidden deep underground—this is bright and open.

Knut also isn’t what I expected.

He meets us at the door, gregarious and welcoming. He’s the least soldier-like soldier I’ve ever met, with a slim build that appears to hold very little muscle, a wide grin, and wild hair. His appearance reveals his allegiance to the Dróttning only because he wears her uniform. His demeanor is carefree—a contrast to others who don her colors—but shadows hide in his bright eyes. Knut is not all that he seems.

Still, I like him right away, and even more when he escorts us each to our own suite, where we find hot baths waiting. He tells us to take our time, and that he’s arranged a hearty meal for us in the dining room. With plenty of mead and wine.

Yes, I like Knut a lot.

I inspect the room, which holds many places for a hole or even a person to hide, then strip off the ridiculous dress I’ve worn the last two days. It feels so good to sink into the water. I don’t move for a long time, letting the heat soak into me and work out all the stress that built up on the trip. Finally, as the water is turning cold, I wash with the orange and mint soap and shampoo provided. Stepping out of the tub, I grab one of the plush towels from the cupboard and wrap it around myself.

The bedroom is large and just as luxurious as the rest of the house. A massive bed sits against the only solid wall. Windows line both sides, providing a surprising view of the nearby fields and mountains in the distance. This area is supposed to be secret. Why would Knut give us rooms that would put any nearby training activity on display?

I don’t have long to ponder it. A knock on the door drags me from my reverie. When I open it a crack, a woman dressed in a maid’s smock tells me dinner will be served in ten minutes.

Choosing a simpler dress than the one I wore here—nobody’s working tonight—I follow my nose to the meal. It is decadent. Pork roast with sage gravy, two different kinds of potatoes, melt-in-your-mouth butter rolls, and a surprising selection of vegetables. And the wine. Oh, my gods, the wine. It alone is almost worth the trip we took to get here. Almost.

Knut’s an entertaining host. He spends the evening regaling us with tales of the men and women stationed in the Nest. But despite the number of words that spill from his mouth, not a single one reveals the Kastali’s secrets. Dragons are part of every life here, yet he barely mentions them. When he does, the references are vague, lacking any details beyond what every Vanatian knows.

Knut is very good at what he does.

As the meal winds down, I realize Frida’s role here is more than just a bedmate. I watch as her eyes meet Knut’s for the briefest moment. His eyebrows lift slightly, and she responds with the smallest dip of her chin. I guess I know what I’ll be doing tonight.

After dessert—three different options, all of them scrumptious—I join the group for coffee in the library.

“Your patrons will arrive tomorrow afternoon, an hour or so before dinner,” Knut explains when we’re all settled on chairs and couches. He looks at me quickly, then casts his gaze around the room.

“We’ll have a few dozen riders for you. Those of you who’ve been here before know what to expect. Who will want what, who may be more difficult, and who to send my way so I can drug them into oblivion if they’re chasing something you don’t sell.” Knut glances at me again. “You’ll watch out for the new girl?” he asks as he turns to Frida.

“We’ll make sure Sifa knows all she needs to do her work here,” Frida assures him.

“And you can stay for three nights?”

“We’re at your service for three nights, Meistari,” Frida responds with the barest bow, dropping her chin to hide the lips that tip up at the ends. I can feel her laugh from here.

There’s so much more to this arrangement than Ulfhild told me. I wish I could dig into their minds to find answers to the many questions bouncing around mine, but I’d be a fool to use my power to search for the secrets they’re not sharing. Knut runs a mansion important enough to the Dróttning to warrant imbuing him with some of her magic. I can’t risk being caught if he’s able to sense me rooting around in his brain. So I’ll spend my time here doing what any human would—following them around like a stalker. Tonight should be revealing.

Finally, everyone starts to wander to their rooms. I do the same but circle back when my hallway empties. After trekking through the corridors without success, my search takes me outside. I try my best to appear casual, but I can’t risk missing whatever they have planned.

At last, I find them in the last place I’d expect because it’s so close to the manor. As I approach the stables, I hear a whispered conversation. Lightening my steps, I make my way to the closed door and find a hole I can peek through. I’m closer to them than I should be—a male’s-height at the most—so I make sure my breaths are light and silent.

I don’t have to wait long to learn why they’re here. “Ulfhild needs more than that to do her part,” Frida insists stridently. “You ask much of her but give her little to work with.”

“It’s all we have,” Knut responds, frustration warbling his words. “We know about Aksell’s work. We still can’t figure out who’s supporting or directing him. We need your girls to get that for us.”

“Aksell must suspect us,” Frida declares. “He’s very careful when my girls are around. Or perhaps they booted him out. He’s not the strategist he once was. I think the mead addled his brain.”

“He’s still connected to them. We’ve seen him with others within the last fortnight.”

“Then he knows about us, and he’s hiding his secrets when my girls are there. I can’t risk them going to him again.” Frida pauses a moment, her next words hesitant and even more of a whisper. “Take me to Troels,” she urges. “Let me talk to him.”

“He’ll give you the same answer.” The authority in Knut’s voice surprises me. He’s a different male now than he was at dinner. “This remains our best way into Aksell’s home.”

“Then my answer is the same. My girls will not return to Aksell. Find another way.”

Silence fills the air. I can almost see Knut’s face as he considers her demand and his response. His grunt comes a full minute later.

“Tomorrow, after the guests leave, join me here. I’ll ask him to meet us.”

I can’t risk staying any longer. I’ve learned all I can for tonight and slink into the nearby forest for cover. Just in time. The door swings open, and Frida strides away as I find a large tree to hide behind. Knut doesn’t follow immediately. When he emerges, he looks around as if he suspects someone’s been eavesdropping. He finally shakes his head and follows Frida into the house.

Everyone but me sleeps in the next morning. Our work happens at night so there’s no reason to wake anyone early. But I have limited time here and much to learn. I’ll sleep when I get home.

I’m searching for Bevin—Knut has secrets he’ll want—but more for me. I haven’t been this close to one of the dragons’ lairs for a decade, and my only goal then was escape. I’ve suspected since Toffer and I landed here that the magic that drew us into this world is bound to the dragons. I don’t understand exactly how, which is why I need access to the Dróttning’s libraries.

I can’t squander this chance to hunt for answers to questions I’ve been asking since I landed here.

Stepping outside for a moment, I turn toward the rising sun. I still haven’t seen a dragon, which surprises me. I assumed they’d be regularly flying above this close to the training grounds. Maybe they avoid this area when they know guests use the estate, which would explain why we have rooms with views and can wander the place.

For now, I’ll focus on the home and then its surrounding buildings. I decide the library’s the best place to start as I walk back into the house and look around. A manor this large must have one, probably better than most. And I won’t rouse any suspicions browsing bookshelves.

It takes longer than it should to find it. I’m nearly ready to give up and head to the second floor when I round a corner and see a set of double doors in front of me. They’re unlocked and when they swing open, I’m stunned by the size of the room. Floor-to-ceiling rows of books appear. There must be thousands of them. I’ll never have enough time to look through everything, but if they’re well organized, I should be able to find areas to focus on.

They’re not. An anarchist must have shelved these books. I can see no rhyme or reason to the order. It’s as if they were simply set into place whenever they were acquired, without any attempt to categorize them as they came in. I scan the titles of a hundred books, maybe more, and find nothing helpful.

The grumble in my stomach could be frustration, but it’s probably hunger. Maybe I’ll have thoughts on how to approach this search with some food in my belly. I turn to leave for the kitchen, and my mouth drops. Snapping it shut, I tip my head toward Knut, standing in the doorway. But this isn’t the kind, welcoming soldier I first met. His lips are set in a thin line, eyebrows drawn together, and back straight. Even his hands appear angry, clenched into tight fists.

Now he looks like one of the Dróttning’s soldiers.

I don’t like this version of Knut, without the mask he normally wears. It’s good to see the real him, though.

“We do not often find bedmates in this room,” he announces in a flat tone. “Perhaps you are lost.”

“Apologies. I enjoy reading and don’t have many options in Revalle. The libraries aren’t nearly as expansive as this one. I thought I might find a novel to pass my days.”

“This room does not hold fables,” he tells me, his voice devoid of the gaiety and charm he displayed at dinner. “Ask the chef. She learned to read in her youth and may have books to share.”

“I also like history. Some of it feels more fanciful than the tales writers spin. Perhaps you can point me toward the legends of this land.”

“Perhaps not. Our stories are written for those familiar with dragon society.” He turns his head toward the door and then looks at me again. “You will find breakfast in the kitchen,” he says.

“And just in time. My searches have made me hungry. Thank you for your help.” I tip my head again—although he probably expected a bow—and stroll into the hallway. The door slams behind me, and a lock quickly spins.

Such a strange place.

I definitely need to spend more time in the library while I’m here.

Breakfast is hearty and quick. I’m relieved because I have more ground to cover. I won’t try the library again—that’ll be my overnight entertainment—but there’s a lot to see.

I head to the stables, another place I might be expected to visit without a purpose.

And it’s worth the trip.

A dragon and its rider have come to join the festivities. I saw plenty of dragons in my worlds, but none this close since I came here. This one is every bit as magnificent as the dragons I knew before. Like them, it appears to be sixty or seventy feet from its nose to the tip of its tail. With wings that probably would span to nearly that length, it exudes power. Its yellow gaze catches mine, eyes narrowing as it spits a small flame from its mouth.

It’s covered in feathers like birds, similar to my worlds’ dragons and the others I’ve seen here. It’s not nearly as nice, though. I never feared any of the Thunder at home. Zaria and Signe—Lia and Freyr’s dragons—even carried me occasionally, spinning me in the air so I could join them in the joy of flight. This creature looks like it would sooner eat me than give me a ride. It emphasizes that disdain with a snort and another burst of fire.

The rider notices and strides over, casting his gaze up and down as he examines me.

“You are one of the bedmates sent by Ulfhild?” He almost sounds bored, as if he’d rather be anyplace but here.

“I’m one of Ulfhild’s girls,” I tell him in the most noncommittal voice I can muster. I don’t want to pique anyone’s interest. Especially him.

He scans his eyes over me one more time, pausing at each curve.

He likes the prestige, the power he gets from his dragon, I realize. He’s probably quite cruel in bed. I’ll warn the girls to avoid him if they can.

“You’re a rare beauty. I’ll consider you.”

I tip my head, loath to let him see the glare his words inspired, and watch his boots stride away. Good riddance.

The dragon and its rider turn out to be the highlight of my day. If there are secrets here, they’re well hidden. I can find nothing of any interest other than the library. Frustration grows as the sun treks through the sky, reaching its zenith and then dropping toward the horizon.

Worse, as the day begins to merge into night, I find myself less and less able to concentrate. It’s been ten years since I escaped the Nest. Those long weeks—the things they did to me—haunt my nights more often than I care to admit. I don’t like being so close to forbidden grounds.

As I sit in my bathing chamber adding makeup to my lashes, working to prevent the tremble that seems determined to emerge, I wonder how I’ll respond if I’m forced to enter a room alone with a man I don’t know. What if he tries to force himself on me? Will I lose control? Will he survive it?

Ulfhild better keep her promise.

She does. In the most revolting way possible.

Literally revolting.

Frida knocks on my door just as I’m finishing my makeup. She enters with a smile, anticipating whatever’s planned. “Ulfhild told me we need to make sure you’re left alone,” she tells me.

“That’s right,” I agree, growing nervous about whatever she has planned. She’s enjoying this way too much.

“This’ll do the trick,” she assures me, handing me a small metal vial. “But let me leave the room first.” Reaching for a second vial, this one glass, she adds, “Use this if the first one doesn’t keep them away.”

“What have you brought me?” I shake them, listening to the slosh of liquid inside.

“Treat the first one like a perfume and then plan to stay in the corner all night. We’ll have a couch for you there. Nobody will notice it if they don’t get close to you. I’ve warned the girls to keep away. It will repel anyone who gets within a few feet. The men will detect a smell and attribute it to that. But it’s more than just a scent. I’m told it’s quite effective. The second one goes on your lips. You’ll need to kiss him … or her … but it’ll act quickly after that. Just wipe it from your mouth as soon as you’re done so you don’t pass out too.”

Smart . I’ve heard of these elixirs but never tried one. It’s probably exactly what I need. Frida smirks just like Thor when he’s taunting Toffer, then opens the door to escape.

I expect a repulsive smell when I uncork the first vial, but I’m still surprised by how my senses react. My nose goes first, triggering a series of gags as it rebels against the attack. My other response is more interesting. The elixir wriggles into my thoughts to find whatever repels me and amplify it. I get a touch of déjà vu as the magic hints at a subtle memory but it passes quickly, the elixir gaining full control of my senses. I feel as if I’m eating bugs, their crunchy bodies and mushy centers sliding down my throat. Now I’m really fighting to stop myself from vomiting.

Thankfully, that feeling passes after a minute or so. And I’m left with the smell. Even that isn’t a problem for long, as my senses dull to it too. Perhaps five minutes after I painted the liquid onto my pulse points, I’m ready to join the crowd.

I finish quickly and head down the hall, letting the rising noise lead me to the ballroom where everyone will gather.

It’s enormous and dripping with displayed wealth, gold and silver threads highlighting the purples and reds that adorn the walls and ceiling. Men and women dressed in serving clothes wander through the room, balancing trays of drinks and appetizers they offer to all the guests.

Two hundred people could fit in here easily. The fifty or so that are here would make it feel empty were it not for the dozen couches positioned strategically through the space—one for each of the girls. Mine sits in the corner, as Frida said it would. Half the bedmates have arrived and they’re holding court on the recliners they chose. Already, each has a group forming around them, staking their claim to time that night. The others trickle in over the next ten minutes or so.

The elixir works better than I could have hoped. I make my way to my spot in the room, getting a wide berth from anyone I can’t avoid. And then I watch. It’s a fascinating dance tonight. The women hold court, but there’s no doubt who holds power. Their suitors seem to instinctively order themselves according to rank. Each of the bedmates has someone sharing her couch and every single one ripples with strength and domination. The others all give them the space and privacy they clearly expect.

Three times, someone in the crowd notices me and wanders in my direction. The first man wears a seductive smile, probably convinced he’s scored a quick pass to the front of the line. As he gets closer, though, his lips start to shift, slowly dropping into a confused frown. And then he’s fully engulfed by my scent. His eyes widen in surprise as he takes a step back, then another. Mouthing his apology, he finally turns to flee.

I’ve never enjoyed a rejection so much. It almost makes the smell worthwhile.

The other two have similar reactions. And then nobody else tries. I’ve earned my solitude. Now I can relax and observe.

Within a half hour, the first bedmate rises to her feet. She extends a hand to welcome her companion to join her and strolls across the room toward the hallway. She must be the signal to the others for the evening’s festivities to begin. One by one, they follow suit, leaving me as the sole bedmate in the room while the rest of the suitors chat and drink, waiting their turn.

For four hours, I sit by myself and inspect the men and women trusted enough to live in this forbidden place. None are very remarkable. In my worlds, dragons choose their riders, often based on their strength of body or character. Not here, it seems. These people are soft, their wealth denying them the lessons of a hard life. Arrogance and egos dripping with entitlement are the strongest emotions I sense from them.

The night finally ends just after midnight. Everyone has been sated, and the girls are dismissed to go find their beds. I join them, making sure I’m seen heading down the hall toward my room. But my night has just begun.

Tonight, I’ll do the first reckless thing I’ve done since arriving here.