Page 55 of To Touch A Silent Fury (The Bride of Eavenfold #1)

“They sailed into it and they both died,” I finished, and Seth nodded. “I know that part. It’s why the cartographers call it Stormnoon’s Elegy. The visions of the water drove him mad. Where does the dragon come into it?”

“Officially?” Seth glanced at the closed door. “The creature was long into adulthood then, and old enough to survive his master’s death, but the loss of their bond drove him mad. The King’s Guard put him down humanely.”

It was no mean feat to put down a dragon. Especially one who had gone mad. “Unofficially?”

“You tell me.” Seth watched me with a guarded expression, and for once, I found him hard to read. “I was away from Eavenfold the one time I might have been able to prove it.”

Usually, I liked mysteries, but this time, I couldn’t get to its solution before my impatience got the better of me. “I don’t understand.”

“Did you see Skirmtold’s eyes the day he burnt down the Women’s Wing?” Seth asked. “Were they red, or brown?”

By my blood.

I stared down at the image again, trying to find any similarities between that dark red dragon and the near-black shape who had haunted many nightmares. “Skirmtold was Praevontil’s dragon.”

Seth’s voice tolled like an omen. “And he’s haunted the place where they died ever since.”

Could it be true? How long ago now had Praevontil died? Norgallin, King Braxthorn’s father, had taken the throne eighty years ago, so it had to be around then. But I recalled tales of Skirmtold’s fire spanning back maybe one hundred and fifty years.

“I thought Skirmtold was around before Praevontil’s time,” I said, all the dates mixing in my head.

Seth nodded. “He was. Praevontil bonded to Skirmtold when he was already an adult.”

This, again, surprised me. “How?”

He shook his head. “That, I have found no record of.”

Skirmtold was no unbound dragon, then, loose on the world. He was bound, for a time, to a king renowned for his generosity. “Praevontil started the Brotherhood. Why would his dragon try to burn it down?”

“It’s a beast gone mad, Tani.”

I blinked at him indignantly. “Their feelings are as complex as ours, if not more so.”

“Who could guess at a dragon’s logic? Maybe he had thoughts then, when he was bonded. But now, it’s like guessing the wind,” Seth said, with all the false confidence of a scholar. At my frown, he paused. Then his eyes widened, and he looked at my hands. “Wait. Tani. Have you felt them?”

I looked down at my hands, too. Part of me, then, wanted to lie. But I couldn’t understand why. I had tried not to live in fear, especially amongst those who loved me. And I knew Seth was one of them.

In this matter, where the secret was purely mine, I would tell him. I nodded. “I—I felt Vellintris when I touched her.”

There was no predation nor advantage in his reaction.

There was only the lightened zeal of new knowledge.

A wonder of discovery, one I had long shared with him and understood.

I had become his subject, and he would study me until he was satisfied.

“Your abilities apply to dragons? What does that even mean? I didn’t think such a thing was even possible. ”

I found myself wanting to help him, to stoke his intrigue. “There was also a wolf, once. Though I couldn’t feel his emotions. It was more just a sense of him.”

He shook his head. “Tani.”

The conversations I’d had back in Gossamir, the Sons and everything they had said, came back to me. Whatever mysteries I held, I had a feeling they were the key to unlocking it. “I think it is something to do with Amune,” I mused.

At this, his wonder turned to a studious disbelief. “Amune? The mythical dragon? How is that relevant?”

It was as if I had told a scientist that the Founders were responsible for nature itself. I smiled as I raised a hand to touch the moonstone cold at my breast through my shirt. I would not reveal Yvon, nor the secret they all kept. That was not mine to tell, nor mine to understand.

“It’s a Touchlands thing.” It was the barest of lies, since I had heard of the Great Amune long before I left for Eavenfold.

My parents believed Amune dragged the moon across our skies.

In this, I was not betraying Seth’s trust. “Dragons, wolves, the Brotherhood. We are all linked to the moon, and the moon’s dragon. ”

“Oh.” Seth nodded, but he was clearly less interested in my own uncertain theory on my strange abilities.

Already, his eyes were glazed. If I touched him, I was sure there would be a list of books to read in place of his emotions.

I had no doubt he would find his own explanation.

“I want to look into this. Research if anyone else was able to influence creatures with their magic. I have access to all the locked away books, after all.” His eyes were alight with excitement, and if there had been a kinder Founder in the sky, they would have let him live out his days around revelation and not politics. “Do I have your permission?”

I grinned. “Of course. Whilst you are there, could you see if you can find anything about a ‘Moon Mother’?”

He frowned. “Amune’s mother?”

“I think just ‘Moon Mother’,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure. “Perhaps try both.”

“What is it?”

“A story I heard as a child,” I lied, this time out right. I could tell he knew there was more to it, but he didn’t press. I was curious to know if there was any stock to it, or any literature on what in the Twins it was, but it wasn’t worth exposing the Sons for.

I trusted Seth with my whole heart, but I didn’t trust Braxthorn for a second, and Derynallis even less. I would not give away the Soundlands’ best-kept secret to them. I would not betray the forest that had kept me alive.

Seth agreed to look into it, and then had to make his exit, for he had tarried far too long in the room already. We embraced, and I held on too tight, unsure when we would next have time to talk.

The discovery of Skirmtold distracted me long after Seth left.

Had Praevontil’s death really driven him mad?

Was there anything left in him of the king, famous for his kindness?

Then, of course, as much as I tried to avoid it, my mind fell to Langnathin.

Another future king of the Sightlands, with a young adult red dragon.

Why did I get the feeling history was repeating itself?

The next day, I sat feeding my dragon as the day’s heat began to wane and afternoon dragged towards evening. It had been a lonely and solitary day, one I would not have minded were it not for the impending events of that night. Langnathin’s ball .

As the sun began to fall, Wainstrill did what he did best, and interrupted my idleness. At least I was prepared for it this time.

A lady’s maid entered, by the name of Daffinia. She held a dress box, and on top of it sat a cluster of red ribbons. She appraised everything about the room with meticulous attention, before bobbing a curtsy and greeting me with more deference than I deserved.

I nodded back, and greeted her in turn.

“I heard you got a dress from Plonius,” she said. “There are ladies in the tower waiting weeks for a simple meeting with him.”

“Oh,” I said, unsure how to respond. “I had no idea.”

“Of course not. I guess someone in this castle likes you.” Then she held the ribbons aloft. “These are a gift from your prince.”

I blinked, staring at the ribbons with complete surprise.

Your prince. There was an inflection to it, a way of speaking it that unnerved me.

If she had said your king, and I myself had been a Sightlander, there would be nothing of note.

And yet, there were two princes, and I was not of their people.

What did Daffinia know? Had we been spotted the other night? But yet, nothing untoward had occurred.

After a pause, I only shook my head dumbly. “My prince?”

Daffinia gave me a patient smile on a narrow mouth painted mauve. I placed her at seven spans, both from the way she looked down on me and the barest creases on her porcelain skin. Her hair was a reddish gold, and enviably straight. “I’ll get you ready. Have you bathed?”

I had not.

I let her take me into the other room, draw the water, and fill the battered tin bath.

It was unnatural to undress before her, but I did so, happy the steam would disguise my blush.

She made no fuss nor comment as I stepped into the water and settled myself.

She washed me diligently, if not luxuriantly, and rubbed fragrant oils into my scalp.

Daffinia wafted me dry with a linen sheet, the lingering warmth of the day near enough to dry me by itself. She brushed my hair, pulled me into my dress, and applied her cosmetics. I was careful to keep my remarks to the weather, the colour of the gown, and my excitement for the ball.

And yet, my mind was reeling from the ribbons. Tonight, it began. Langnathin would see me as more than a wild thing. He had to, before I ran out of time entirely.