Chapter Five
ESOFI
The presents from the twins were already beginning to pile up, but Esofi was having difficulty focusing on them. There had been another dragon strike yesterday, at Adelsroda, a town only three days ride south of Birsgen. The refugees were already moving north under royal guard and expected to arrive in Birsgen within the week.
On Esofi’s desk rested a map of Ieflaria marked in bright red ink at the site of every dragon attack in the past year. The marks left a wide but distinct inward spiral pattern, with Birsgen at the heart.
The next attack would be at the capital. She could feel it.
She wished she could set aside the entire matter of her engagement until the dragon issue was resolved. It was a struggle to even keep a level head, for she was quite unused to this degree of romantic interest. Back home, everyone had understood that she was engaged to a foreign prince and to pursue her would have been a waste of time. Even if someone had been inclined to court her, Esofi would never have accepted it. Probably.
Some days had been lonelier than others.
Her ladies were not being shy about making their opinions of her suitors known. Lexandrie was staunchly in favor of Svana, while Mireille asked her of Adale almost constantly, and Lisette seemed to prefer Brandt, citing that the question of heirs would come up sooner or later.
At long last, there was a knock at the door. Lexandrie, who had been reading quietly in her usual spot on the sofa, rose to answer it. His Majesty’s young squire, Ilbert, was standing there, waiting to escort Esofi to her meeting with King Dietrich and his generals.
That day, they would be discussing the permanent placement of the battlemages until more could be trained. The call for magically gifted Ieflarians had been sent out, and Esofi could only hope, for now.
For the meeting, Esofi brought only Lexandrie with her. Esofi’s annoyance with her cousin had not quite dissipated yet, but Lexandrie was acting as though nothing was wrong, and Esofi didn’t have the energy to quarrel with her. Besides, Lexandrie was the only one of her ladies who would be of any sort of use during the meeting. Though her magic was not as powerful as Esofi’s, she still had a good eye for details and a mind for strategy.
They departed with Ilbert taking the lead. He was a well-behaved young man or at least wise enough to pretend to be so when he was around Esofi. She wasn’t sure who his parents were, but she supposed they must be important, for King Dietrich to have chosen their son to be his squire.
They met in the war room, which reminded Esofi a great deal of the one back home in Rho Dianae, where her parents and all their advisors would occasionally discuss grim things with somber faces. Esofi and her siblings had been allowed to attend these meetings under the condition that they would not make a single sound throughout.
The large table in the middle of the room was painted with a map of the entire continent, Ieflaria at the center. Gleaming silver pieces had been placed upon it to mark the recent dragon attacks, mirroring the map on her own desk.
Esofi knew the names of all the military commanders that His Majesty had invited but could not match the names to the faces. The Ieflarian military was a bit different from the Rhodian, and the pins and stripes that indicated rank were strange and unfamiliar to Esofi. Fortunately, King Dietrich arrived quickly, saving Esofi from having to hide her ignorance, and the meeting began.
“They are coming from the northeast,” said Captain Lehmann, indicating the Silver Isles on the map. “Their routes are unpredictable, but they do not seem to ever travel through Xytae. They would rather pass over the sea than deal with the Xytan Legion, it seems.”
“We’ve seen them flying overhead,” confirmed a neutroi who was dressed in a naval uniform—Esofi supposed they must have been an admiral. “Unfortunately, they’re too fast for our warships. We’re lucky if we manage to get in a few shots of the harpoons before they’re already gone. Hitting them in the wings is the only way we’ve managed to kill them, and that’s only happened twice.”
“Your Majesty, you know our borders are simply too long for us to defend it all,” said one of the men. “We can afford to leave the south, because Vesolda would never march on us, but it is not so with Xytae. The battlemages must be spread across the northern and eastern borders—”
“No,” said Esofi stubbornly. “They will be spread too thinly. They must remain here.”
One of the women gave an exasperated sigh. “Do you intend to let them attack Birsgen, then?”
“They do not require my permission to do that,” said Esofi. “It is the vaults beneath the castle that call to them—that is the reason for their movements inward.” She thought of the place where her dowry was being kept. No doubt her addition made the scent even more irresistible. “We must act as though an attack on Birsgen could come at any moment.”
There was a knock at the door. All fell silent and looked to it in confusion—who would interrupt such an important meeting? But the knocking only became more insistent. After a puzzled pause, King Dietrich strode over and pulled the doors open.
Standing before him was one of Archmage Eads’s apprentices, red-faced and sweating. He doubled over to catch his breath.
“Your Majesty!” he sputtered. “You must come quickly!”
“What has happened?” demanded King Dietrich. “Speak, now!”
“We have had a sign from Lady Talcia!” he cried, and then went back to gasping.
Esofi grabbed her skirts and surged forward. “Where!?” she cried. The apprentice looked up at her and pointed down the hall.
“They’ve gathered in the healing ward,” he said.
Esofi had no idea where that was, but fortunately, King Dietrich was already moving. With Lexandrie at her heels, she followed him down the halls that were becoming more familiar with every passing day and into an area of the castle that she’d never visited before. They came to a large set of doors painted with symbols of Adranus, and King Dietrich threw them open.
Gathered inside the room was a strange assortment of castle staff and Birsgeners, all looking shaken and confused, sitting wherever they could find a space. The castle healers seemed to be at a loss, running around frantically but without purpose. The chief healer, a high-ranking priest of Adranus, was arguing hotly with Archmage Eads.
“What is going on?” demanded King Dietrich, and the room fell silent—for a moment. Then one of the Birsgener women started crying loudly.
“My lord,” began Archmage Eads. “We, that is, I—”
Lexandrie gave a sudden gasp, and Esofi moved closer to the weeping woman. She was dressed in the ordinary clothes of a Birsgen shopkeeper, and her head was lowered. She seemed to be holding something in her hands, something that glittered like sapphires.
It was the light of magic.
Esofi felt her heart stop for just a moment.
“You were not born with this, were you?” Esofi asked, drawing nearer. The woman’s pale eyes, rimmed with redness, met her own.
“None of them were,” said the priest of Adranus from behind Esofi. “When the first one came in, we thought it was merely a mistake in our recordkeeping or an oversight.”
“I told you,” spat one of the men who was standing, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in rage. He had the scent of a tanner about him, and Esofi found herself wishing she had an orange to cover the smell. “They thought I was wrong. As if I lived thirty-five years not knowing I had magic.”
Esofi did a quick count of the room. There were eleven patients in total, but nobody could say how many new mages were scattered throughout Ieflaria, waiting to discover their gifts.
“I have never heard of anyone being granted magic later in their life,” volunteered Archmage Eads. “In Ieflaria, it has always been taught that Talcia only grants magic to babies at the moment they draw their first breath.”
“It is so in Rhodia as well,” said Esofi, her head spinning. She’d barely begun her work in Ieflaria, and Talcia had already made her approval known. How could this be?
But Esofi realized that she could wonder about that later. At the moment, she had a room of frightened citizens to reassure. She released the woman’s hands and stood.
“I’m sure I cannot imagine how you’re all feeling right now,” said Esofi. “But in time, I hope you will realize what a wonderful gift you’ve been given—the opportunity to defend your city in the coming months, rather than leave the fight to foreigners.”
None of the Birsgeners looked particularly enthused.
“I have three children,” said one of the other women at last. “I can’t risk my life to fight dragons. You have to understand that.”
Esofi bit back an impassioned speech about serving one’s country, and instead said, “Even so, you must be trained. You could harm yourself or another if you lose control. We are setting up a university in the Temple District, but now it is clear we cannot wait for construction to be complete.” She looked to King Dietrich for his approval, but before he could reply, the doors swung open again and Adale strode in. She paused for a moment to take in the gathered group and then gave a half-incredulous laugh.
“So it’s true?” she asked.
“Adale,” said King Dietrich disapprovingly. “Why are you here?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” responded Adale. “It’s my country too. If we’ve had a sign from—from Talcia, or whoever, I think I ought to…”
Her voice trailed off very suddenly.
“What?” asked Esofi. Adale seemed to be staring at one of the men, who was dressed in the uniform of a castle footman.
“Audo?” she asked the man, tilting her head to one side. He looked uncomfortable but said nothing. Adale whipped her head around to look at another woman—one of Mistress Abbing’s maids. “And you, too! After the last lunar service!”
The maid bit down on her own lip heavily but was silent.
“Adale, what are you talking about?” King Dietrich’s voice was heavy with impatience.
“They both kissed the woman!” said Adale triumphantly. King Dietrich stared at her as though she had gone mad, but Esofi’s mouth opened very slowly.
Almost two thousand miles away on a slightly raised platform in the center of the great domed entrance hall of the University of Vo Dianene was a statue made of white marble. The statue was life-sized, depicting the Goddess Talcia leaning over a cradle, her lips pressed to the forehead of a sleeping infant. As a child, Esofi had always thought the baby had been Talcia’s own, until she was old enough to learn the truth.
One of Esofi’s tutors had explained it to her, how the goddess granted magic to newborn babies by kissing them as they slept, and this was where mages came from.
“You saw her?” Esofi whispered, because it was a choice between that and screaming.
Adale looked at her in confusion.
“You saw her?”
“I—just—I suppose?” Adale shrugged helplessly.
Esofi wasn’t sure why she was crying, but there were tears in her eyes nevertheless. She gripped Adale’s arms, desperate and possibly insane. “What did she say to you?!”
“That she wasn’t going to kiss me?” Adale seemed to be paralyzed, and she glanced over at her father for help. “I don’t… I didn’t realize she was anyone important!”
“You all saw her?” demanded Esofi of the gathered Birsgeners. “She visited everyone except me?”
“Wait, was that what that was all about?” asked one of the men, catching on at last. “I thought she was just a drunk!”
Esofi released Adale’s arms and very slowly crumpled in on herself, her skirts fluffing up to meet her. Anxious hands were upon her at a moment; one of the medics waved a sponge of salted perfume under her nose.
If only her parents weren’t on the opposite end of the continent. If only the Silence of the Moon wasn’t all but nonexistent in Ioshora. If only there was someone she could talk to besides an apathetic archpriestess and her confused underlings.
“Princess Esofi?” asked Adale. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Let me,” said Lexandrie, and Esofi was suddenly aware of her cousin’s emerald eyes boring into hers. She brought their faces close together, and when she spoke, it was almost inaudible.
“Talcia has given you a gift,” Lexandrie hissed, too quietly for any but Esofi herself to hear. “And yet you are not satisfied because you believed yourself entitled to gaze upon her face? To waste her time with your impertinent questions? In a single grand, unprecedented gesture, she has shown Ieflaria that she favors you, and you still have the gall to pity yourself? You’re lucky there’s a room full of peasants here, else I would strike some sense into you!”
Esofi looked up at her cousin in shock. She was right, of course—and sounded eerily like Queen Gaelle. The only thing that had been missing from her speech was a comment about her weight. Esofi allowed her cousin to pull her back to her feet, and cleared her throat.
“All citizens who were visited by the goddess must report for training, even if they do not intend to become battlemages. Until construction of a university is complete, we will meet…” Esofi realized she had no idea where she could host the impromptu lessons. “—in the courtyard of the Great Temple of Talcia, I think. The priestesses should not complain.”
“They will have little reason to,” said King Dietrich.
“Then someone send for the instructors I brought and tell them their services are required,” said Esofi. Archmage Eads made a hurrying gesture to his apprentices, and they both bolted from the room, elbowing each other to be first. “All of the newly gifted citizens are to report to the temple immediately. I know you have livelihoods to attend to, but we simply cannot risk one of you losing control of your gift and causing harm to others.”
The new mages were quietly herded out by the medics to be taken to the temple by an escort of castle guards.
“We should send out heralds,” said Archmage Eads. “There could be more of the newly gifted scattered all across the country. They will need to be brought in or teachers sent to their towns.”
“How serious is the prospect of someone losing control?” asked King Dietrich.
“It is difficult to say,” admitted Esofi. “Traditionally, mages learn it when they are children. But these people have gone their entire lives with little need for mental discipline. We can only hope they have naturally cultivated the traits that make a good mage. Perhaps it is why they were selected by the goddess.”
King Dietrich was quiet for a moment, and Esofi could not guess what he was thinking.
“I would never have dreamed this would happen,” she added in a softer voice. “Especially so quickly.”
“Nevertheless, we should be able to turn it to our advantage,” said Captain Lehmann. “How long does it take for a mage to be fully trained?”
“A lifetime,” said Esofi. “It is like being a scholar. You will reach the end of your natural lifespan before you run out of knowledge to acquire. But if you’re asking how long before they are battle-ready…I could not say. I only know how our children are trained. I hope an adult will learn more quickly.”
“And then if they refuse to fight?” asked Lexandrie sharply. “You heard that woman. How will we convince them to fight dragons when they’ve spent their entire lives being laborers and craftsmen and shopkeepers? If protecting their own existences won’t compel them, what will?”
“Money,” said Adale. She looked a bit surprised when everyone stared at her, but then she shrugged. “It’s true, isn’t it? How much do we pay our soldiers? Offer them that, or maybe even more. Not all of them will accept, but many will.”
The doors opened again, and a wave of noise assaulted the healing ward—the sound of a woman screaming. There was a flurry of movement as the healers rushed forward, only to freeze at the sight of Lady Svana, her body awash in emerald magic that lashed out with glittering tendrils.
But Lexandrie was already moving, crimson light gathering at her hands. With just a few smooth motions, Svana and her magic were enclosed in a bubble. Only then did Esofi see that Svana had not come alone—her twin brother was just behind her, more emerald light streaming off him. For a moment, Esofi thought Lexandrie had not completely contained Svana’s magic, but then she realized that this magic, though identical in color to Svana’s, was Brandt’s.
“Oh no,” said Adale.
“You must calm yourself,” Lexandrie was saying to Svana through the ruby barrier. “Throwing a tantrum will only make it worse because control is dependent on your—stop screaming or I’ll drop this barrier and slap you!”
Svana fell abruptly silent, probably from sheer surprise, and the emerald light vanished. Lexandrie let the barrier down and Esofi stepped forward, hands out. Svana rushed into her arms, sobbing piteously. Esofi instinctively drew a handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it to Svana’s face.
“You’re going to be fine,” Esofi soothed. “Both of you. You’ve been given a gift; there’s nothing to be afraid of. And I’ll help you.”
“Brandt,” said King Dietrich. “When did you and your sister discover this?”
“It was that servant’s fault!” seethed Brandt. “Svana and I sent him to get tea, and it must have been half an hour before he returned. Naturally, we were upset. We’ve come to expect a higher quality of service.”
“So you threw a tantrum and the magic came,” said Adale.
Brandt turned on her, eyes full of rage. “I did not—” began Brandt, but now the emerald light was back, crackling around his face.
“Adale,” said Esofi reproachfully. “Perhaps it would be best not to provoke your cousins until they’ve learned to control their gifts.”
Adale looked like she wanted to object, but in the end, she was silent.
“You need to go to the temple,” Esofi told the twins. “That’s where we’ve sent everyone who has suddenly manifested a gift. We’re going to teach you control, so you’ll be safe.”
“You’ll come with us, won’t you?” warbled Svana.
“Of course I will,” soothed Esofi.
Svana seemed to brighten up a little. She sniffed deeply and wiped her eyes on a nearby servant’s sleeve.
“Is there any chance we can get it done before sunset?” she asked. “Brandt and I have a ball to host, after all.”
A CROWD OF curious citizens had gathered before the steps of the Temple of Talcia, but from the excess of guards that had been posted, it seemed that they were not being allowed on the temple grounds. Esofi supposed it was for the best. As much as the people might want the reassurance of their goddess, it wouldn’t be wise to have jittery citizens in the same building as a group of newly blessed adult mages.
Still, as the guards escorted her and the twins from their carriage to the courtyard, Esofi hoped that the archpriestess would come out and address the people soon.
The Rhodian mage instructors were waiting just inside the temple, speaking to each other in low, serious tones. The benches that normally filled the center of the temple had all been moved to one side in order to create a wide-open area. This was where the civilians had gathered.
Esofi approached the mages. They looked about as stunned as Esofi felt. Still, they bowed as she neared, though their eyes were somewhere far away.
“We are ready to begin when the last of the students arrive,” explained one of them. “Of course, we don’t know when that will be…”
“Then begin now,” said Esofi. “There’s no point in wasting time.”
The instructors called to the gathered Birsgeners to come sit in the cleared area, and Esofi joined them. Brandt and Svana, after some brief complaining about having to sit on the floor, settled down on either side of her.
“The first thing we teach our children is control,” began the instructor. Her loud, clear voice rang throughout the temple. “There is no magic in it, only discipline. Moments of uncontrolled emotion can be lethal if you have no training. Once you have a grasp on this, you can choose whether you wish to continue learning from us or return to your lives.”
Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Esofi thought the mood in the room lifted a bit.
“Talcia’s magic is different from the power granted by other gods,” picked up another teacher. “You all know that Adranus gives healing powers to his favored ones, and that Inthi grants a gift with metal and flame to their followers. These gifts fall within the domains of the ones who grant them. But Talcia’s primary domain is magic itself. Her magic—your magic—is raw, unrefined power. You’ve all seen it manifest by now, or you wouldn’t be here. If you choose to continue with your studies, we can teach you how to shape this power to your will.
“We will begin with some basic breathing techniques,” concluded the second teacher. “As I said before, there is no magic in this. Rather, it is a simple way to calm your mind if you feel your gift threatening to overwhelm you. If you will…”
Esofi closed her eyes and listened to the instructions she hadn’t heard since childhood. She remembered sitting out in the gardens with her brothers and sisters, practicing control under their mother’s sharp eye. Queen Gaelle hadn’t been particularly maternal, but she had been an extremely good motivator.
Her concentration was shattered by the sound of the enormous temple doors opening again. Esofi glanced around to see a new Birsgener stumble in, confused and frightened. Beside her, Svana gave a sharp exhale of irritation.
Unfortunately, that seemed to set the tone for the rest of the day—no sooner did the class get settled when a new student would arrive and need to be caught up. The instructors quickly gave up on trying to impart anything beyond the very basic elements of control, and Esofi couldn’t blame them.
Brant and Svana apparently could, though. The twins seemed to have picked up the elements of control with shocking ease and were eager to move on to something more impressive. When Esofi and the instructors urged for caution and patience, the twins argued that they weren’t children and shouldn’t be held to a child’s pace. Esofi had to admit they were right—and besides, surely the reason Talcia had blessed them was so they could join the fight more quickly than children would?
With that in mind, Esofi promised them that they would begin more complex training the next day.
They left the temple a few hours before sunset—the twins were apparently serious about still hosting their ball, despite Esofi assuring them that nobody would blame them for it.
“They say Queen Gaelle of Rhodia can kill people just by looking at them,” said Svana dreamily as they crossed the temple courtyard. Bright emerald vines were coiled around her fingertips. “When do we learn how to do that?”
“I…don’t think that’s true,” said Esofi. If it was, she probably would have seen it happen.
Esofi had hoped most of the people waiting outside the temple would have gone away by that point, but it seemed that the crowd had only grown larger over the last few hours. They all fell silent as she approached, clearly expecting a speech.
But before she could think of anything to say, the twins pulled her into the carriage and slammed the door.
ESOFI WAS IN her most elaborate dress yet, a majestic white-and-gold creation that trailed a foot behind her as she walked. Pearls had been embroidered into the lace that covered the bodice, as well as threaded through her hair.
The ballroom was crowded with people, all dressed as opulently as they could get away with, considering the mourning period was not quite over yet. Everyone seemed to be in especially high spirits after the day’s events. As soon as Esofi entered, the twins were on either side of her both talking at once. She nodded along and scanned the room, trying to spot Adale. The crown princess was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she hadn’t come? She seemed to dislike her cousins…but she liked parties, didn’t she?
Esofi gave a little sigh and glanced back at her ladies. Lisette was already gone. Though, as usual, Esofi had no doubts that the waiting lady could see her. Mireille was drifting toward a group of laughing courtiers, but Lexandrie was still at Esofi’s elbow and would remain there unless someone asked her to dance or Esofi did something to shake her off.
A servant was carrying a tray of something that looked like pastries, so Esofi took one. She only managed a single bite before Lexandrie snatched it away from her, but that was such an everyday occurrence that Esofi barely registered it.
Brandt and Svana were now at the center of a circle of people, talking animatedly and occasionally punctuating their sentences with flashes of magic, drawing appreciative noises from everyone.
“They’re going to take someone’s eyebrows off,” Lexandrie murmured in her ear, and there was no missing the eager anticipation in her tone.
Esofi slowly backed away from the crowd and resumed her search, only for someone to take her by the arm.
“Princess Esofi!” cried Queen Saski. “There you are! You look beautiful.” Her face was a little redder than usual. “You’ve done well—we’re all so proud to have you.”
The ladies with Queen Saski all murmured in agreement.
“Is Crown Princess Adale here?” asked Esofi.
“I haven’t seen her yet,” said Queen Saski. “But don’t worry, she’ll turn up at some point.”
Esofi nodded and slipped away as soon as Queen Saski was distracted by one of her ladies. Finally, she made her way to the edge of the room and spotted a likely looking servant.
“Do you know where I can find the crown princess?” Esofi asked her.
“I believe she’s on the balcony, Your Highness,” said the woman.
“The balcony?” repeated Esofi. The servant pointed, and Esofi realized there was indeed a large entryway at the other end of the room, draped with rich velvet curtains. Painstakingly, Esofi made her way through the crowd toward it.
Outside, the air was cool and fresh. The sun rested low on the horizon, and Adale sat alone at a single table, staring at nothing. Esofi cleared her throat, and the crown princess gave a little surprised jump.
“I’m sure you’ve had an interesting day,” said Adale as she approached. The crown princess was wearing a simple, understated gown the color of blackberries. Her usual braid had been pinned up around her head like a crown.
“I suppose I should be grateful that everyone seems to be taking it well,” said Esofi, taking the seat across from Adale.
“Of course they are. Why wouldn’t they be? Who doesn’t love a sign from the gods?” But Esofi didn’t miss the twinge of bitterness in Adale’s voice.
“Are you disappointed that you were not blessed?” she asked.
“Ha! Me? No. Can you imagine?” That, at least, sounded genuine. Adale seemed to soften a bit. “It is strange to think I saw her twice and had no idea. When people meet with the gods in stories, they’re always seven feet tall and glowing with beauty and saying important things. But she just seemed like any other woman.”
“Really?” said Esofi.
“Sorry, is that heresy? She did, though. I mean…I did have the feeling she was laughing at me. Most people don’t do that—not to my face, anyway.” Adale tapped her fingers on the table. “It makes me wonder if I’ve ever run into other gods without realizing.”
“Do you think you might have?”
Adale was quiet, her stare locked on her hands.
“After Albion,” she said slowly. “They…before the funeral, they brought him to the Temple of Adranus to prepare the body. There were so many people, priests and healers and I don’t even know. Temples are usually so quiet, but this—everyone was shouting. People were crying. Fully trained priests, even! I remember thinking how stupid they were all being. He was already dead. And, and then I noticed there was this man, standing in the corner, writing something in a book. He barely even looked up, and I wondered why he was even there.” Adale went silent again. “I’m sorry. That…that made a lot more sense in my head.”
“It’s all right,” said Esofi. “It’s… Can I ask how he died?”
Adale looked a little surprised. “You haven’t heard?”
“I’ve been told a few versions of the story,” said Esofi. “But I’d like to hear it from someone who was there.”
For a moment, Esofi thought she would refuse to answer the question, but Adale spoke at last.
“We were…it was on father’s estate at Eandra. We were riding. It was only the two of us… We’d never encountered anything dangerous before.” Adale looked down at her hands. “The estate is vast. We go there—we went there every summer since we were old enough to ride and explore the grounds. Every year, we discovered something new. And that year…that year, it was the ravine.”
Adale risked a glance back up at Esofi, as if expecting… Esofi wasn’t certain what. But whatever Adale saw in her face, it was enough to make her continue.
“It was a stupid way for a prince to die,” said Adale. “It was a stupid way for anyone to die. I wish I could say I told him not to do it, but I didn’t. He had a mare, Wildflower. She was killed with him.”
“I am sorry,” said Esofi.
“About the horse?” Adale managed a weak smile.
“I’m sure she was a fine horse,” Esofi replied seriously.
Rapid footsteps approached, and one of Adale’s ladies appeared on the balcony.
“Adale! There you are!” cried the lady. “I’m so bored! Let’s get out of here.”
Esofi looked at the Ieflarian woman in surprise.
“Esofi, this is Lady Brigit,” explained Adale. “Brigit—”
“We’re all waiting on you, Adale,” Brigit proclaimed. “Come on, let’s go find a real party.”
“What?” asked Esofi, finding her voice at last.
“We’re going to sneak out and celebrate properly,” explained Brigit. “You could come, if you want, except I suppose you don’t want, so—”
“You’re going to leave?” Esofi asked.
“Believe me, nobody will even notice,” said Adale. “Especially with Svana and Brandt showing off.”
“Still,” began Esofi, but Brigit groaned as though she’d been stabbed.
“There’s nothing to do. There’s no proper music. I’m going to die of boredom, and it will be on your soul, Adale.”
“All right!” snapped Adale. “Gods. Give me an hour.”
“You’re leaving?” asked Esofi, genuinely disappointed despite the small blasphemy.
“Oh! Brigit’s right,” said Adale. “You could come along. You might like it. You’ve never seen the city—not really, I mean. I’m sure the best parties are down by the river…”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s not going to agree,” said Brigit in a voice that reminded Esofi of her sisters back home, and perhaps that was why Esofi suddenly rose to her feet.
“Of course I’ll come,” she said.
SOMEONE MANAGED TO find Esofi an Ieflarian dress that fit well enough. The foreign style was strange on her body, though not uncomfortably so. The dress was in the usual Ieflarian fashion—simple with a short fitted bodice and a long, loose skirt that fell from immediately below the underbust. There were none of the voluminous petticoats that Esofi had become so accustomed to, and she felt oddly naked without them. Still, she thought the style was not without its merits. Movement was free and natural, and it would probably be comfortable during the summer months.
This particular dress looked not unlike the ones worn by the common Birsgener women she had seen. It was pale gray with a white scallop pattern bordering the hem and bodice and a mauve-colored sash around the waist. Someone else found her a short overcoat with long sleeves to wear over it, as the night air was rapidly becoming colder.
Brigit and the other ladies unpinned Esofi’s carefully styled hair and rubbed off the majority of her makeup. Finally, after draping a scarf over her head, they declared she was ready.
Esofi owned nightgowns more elaborate than the dress she was wearing now, but at least she would not stand out. Still, she had to fight down feelings of unease as they slipped out of the castle, even at the heart of Adale’s group of friends and with the crown princess just beside her, their hands occasionally brushing.
Apparently, there was no shortage of parties to attend that night. The streets were packed with joyous people, laughing and drinking and singing. Someone actually stumbled into Esofi, laughed, and patted her cheek before staggering off again.
“We haven’t had a proper sign from the gods in ages,” explained Lethea. “They’re going to be celebrating for days!”
“Oh,” said Esofi. She supposed it was preferable to mass hysteria.
The group made their way through the more expensive districts, passing by stone buildings and large, beautifully constructed homes guarded by fences of iron. As they moved through the streets, Esofi noticed that the homes gradually became smaller and less impressive, made of wood rather than stone. The streets were uneven, some dirt rather than paved with stone, and it seemed these areas employed nobody to sweep the streets. In contrast, the celebrating was more boisterous there. Esofi quietly hoped that they were only passing through, but when someone pointed out a tavern, they went inside.
The tavern was warm, uncomfortably so, but Esofi didn’t take off her coat. She allowed herself to be pushed onto a long bench at a low table. One of Adale’s ladies yelled to the bartenders—she had to yell, considering how loud the music was—and heavy metal tankards were placed in front of them, filled with something frothy.
Esofi glanced around, but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to her. She leaned forward a little and decided that the drink had a distinctly unpleasant scent. It wasn’t as if she’d never consumed ale before, though it was admittedly rare that she didn’t have wine or juice or even water purified by priestesses of Merla or priests of Eyvindr. She was certain she’d never had ale of this…caliber…before.
She took a bit of foam on the tip of her finger and contemplated it. Not too far away, some of the other patrons of the tavern were bellowing out the words to a song that had a lovely tune but shocking lyrics. People were even dancing, or at least trying to. Esofi watched, oddly entranced by it all. It took her a moment to realize Brigit had been chattering in her ear the entire time.
“—glad we came here instead of staying in that stuffy ballroom?” she was saying. “This is the real Ieflaria, you know. If you want to know what the people really—”
“Brigit,” interrupted Adale from Esofi’s other side. “I think that man over there wants to dance with you.”
Brigit sprang to her feet and hurried toward the man Adale had indicated on the other side of the room. But before Adale could say anything else, another woman took Brigit’s place at the bench. Like many of the revelers, her face had been painted with silver stars.
“I love your hair!” the woman shouted, pushing Esofi’s scarf aside and putting her hands over Esofi’s head. “You did it to look like the princess, didn’t you? It’s perfect!”
“Um,” said Esofi, finding herself suddenly paralyzed.
“Did you have it done just today? I’m going to do the same tomorrow!” The woman released Esofi’s head and grabbed at her own ebony tresses instead. “Oh I can’t wait! You’ve even got the color right. Who did you get to do that? Was it the alchemists?”
“Ah,” said Esofi. “Yes?”
“I’d love to have one of those big Rhodian dresses, too,” rambled the woman. “Don’t laugh! I mean it! I know they’re silly, but I’ve already seen seamstresses trying to copy the style. You could make three dresses with the amount of fabric that goes into them! But I don’t mind.” The woman fell silent, musing. “Though I’m not sure how they get any work done without knocking everything over.”
“Nobody works in Rhodia!” shouted Daphene happily, leaning over the table so that she could be part of things. “They just do everything by magic!”
Esofi opened her mouth to object, only to remember that she was supposed to be a native Ieflarian—though only a blind man or the staggeringly intoxicated would actually believe that. Fortunately, there was an abundance of the latter tonight. She fell silent and simply listened to the joyful shouting that floated around her head.
Beside her, Adale very gently put her own hand over Esofi’s.
A strange noise filled the air, like a single enormous horn being blown by some herald of the gods. Esofi glanced around, expecting to see someone with a ridiculously oversized musical instrument looking very pleased with themselves.
Instead, what she saw was a room filled with frozen faces. The tavern had gone utterly silent, all the joy and liveliness evaporating like water spilled on a hot road.
“What was that?” Esofi asked.
“The sirens,” whispered Lethea.
Adale ran to the door, and Esofi followed her. Just as they reached it, a few terrified people from the street darted inside the tavern. Adale looked upward, scanning the sapphire skyline.
“Do you see—?” began Esofi, just as the sound of leathery wingbeats filled the air. She caught a glimpse of something large and airborne circling the skies before Adale shrieked and slammed the door shut, pressing her body against it like she could possibly hope to hold it shut if the dragon came knocking.
“IolarTalciaPemeleAdranusEyvindrMerlaInthiDayluueReygmadraEran!” she cried, naming every major deity on the continent in a single breath. Her face had gone milk white.
“What are we going to do?” screamed Brigit.
“Esofi can kill it!” said Lethea. “She’s killed lots of dragons! Haven’t you? That’s what you said to Theodoar!”
“I—” Esofi looked at Adale helplessly, aware that all eyes were now on her. “Yes, but—but—”
“You don’t have to do it!” cried Adale. “The battlemages are right here in the city. They’ll get here soon enough! You’re not even wearing any armor!”
“Armor?” repeated Esofi blankly.
“And if it burns down the whole street in the meantime?” shouted Brigit. “Or maybe even the whole district?”
Esofi’s stomach felt as though it had turned to ice, and was slowly crystalizing outward to her limbs. “I’ve never fought one alone.” But even as she said the words, she knew it wasn’t an adequate excuse. There was no adequate excuse, and never would be, because she was going to be the queen of Ieflaria and now she had a responsibility to the city.
All the patrons of the tavern were staring at her.
“I need to get closer,” said Esofi. “How can I get onto the wall?”
“There’s guard towers every quarter mile,” said Brigit.
Esofi reached around the back of her neck and unclasped the necklace she’d been wearing. She removed her earrings next, and then her bracelets, letting them fall to the wooden slats of the tavern’s floor. Instinctively, she touched her bodice for any gems that might have been woven into the fabric of her dress, but fortunately this one was plain. Once she was clean of anything that might entice the dragon to tear her limbs off, she went to the door. Adale was still pressed up against it, horror etched in her face.
“I-I’ll come with you,” declared the crown princess. “Just let me find a sword.”
“No,” said Esofi. “You would only get in my way.”
“Either we’re both going or neither of us are,” said Adale, but Esofi just shook her head.
“Your parents can’t lose you too,” she said.
The streets were eerily empty, with only the remains of hastily dropped celebration to prove that the entire population of Birsgen hadn’t been wiped out by some plague months ago. The puddles of spilled ale seeped into the hem of her skirt, but she ignored that as she tried to spot the nearest guard tower. Fortunately, they were tall enough that she could see one easily, and the fact that she didn’t have the faintest idea of how to navigate the city didn’t put her at too much of a disadvantage. As she hurried through the streets, she occasionally caught a glimpse of something small and black hovering just outside her field of vision.
When she finally reached the closest tower, she pulled the heavy wooden door open. There were no guards inside, though the roaring fire and half-eaten meals on the table suggested there had been until very recently. Suddenly thankful for her light Ieflarian dress, Esofi charged up three flights of stairs until she felt the cool night air on her face again.
Gasping heavily, Esofi looked out over the city. In the distance, farther along the wall, she could see the city guards readying a cannon. The dragon swept past them, the gusts of wind from its wingbeats powerful enough to knock the archers’ arrows from midair.
Esofi called her magic to her hands, and it came more readily than it had at any point since they’d crossed the border into Ieflaria. Meanwhile, the dragon flared its neck in the way that all dragons did before they flamed. Esofi gritted her teeth and flung her arm out, letting the magic fly like an arrow loosed from a bow. The bolt of light only narrowly avoided hitting the dragon, but it got the creature’s attention nevertheless. A massive head swung around to stare in her direction, enormous eyes glittering in the torchlight.
Esofi called more magic up as the dragon launched itself back into the air. She let it flow over her skin, forming a barrier that would protect her from flames and brute-force damage. The dragon was upon her in a moment, and its heavy claws smashed through the stone wall as it landed.
Somehow, Esofi managed to remain on her feet, despite the force of the impact. She forged herself a pair of blades, one for each hand, and lunged for it. The dragon clearly hadn’t been expecting to be charged by a creature so tiny, its chest open and undefended. Esofi could practically see the massive heart beating beneath layers of black scales and coiled muscle, and that was where she aimed her blades.
She felt and heard the roar in equal measure and knew she had succeeded. Wasting no time, Esofi turned to run, but she felt something hard and cold snag the nape of her dress. It was one of the dragon’s long, curved claws.
I wonder who they’ll be sending from home to replace me.
After a moment of resistance, the fabric of the dress tore, sending Esofi sprawling. Her outstretched hands hit the stone, sending pain through her arms up to her shoulders. She lashed out blindly, her magic flailing like a whip, and spun to face the dragon, expecting it to attack—but it did not.
Instead, the dragon gazed at her for a long moment, as if appraising her. Esofi knew she had no excuse for not attacking, but there was something compelling about the way it stared.
It was not the closest she’d ever been to a dragon, but it was the first time she’d been able to truly examine one while it was still alive—though she wasn’t sure how much longer it would remain that way. Blood was dripping from the center of its chest, but it continued to simply stare at her.
“Well,” said Esofi, unnerved. “Have I got something on my face?”
“Dro vaq Sibari na?” rumbled the dragon.
Esofi’s mouth fell open. Those had been words—genuine words! And she knew their meaning, more or less. It was the major language of Siabaeld, the continent north of the Silver Isles, where the dragons dwelt.
And this one could speak.
“Evva—evva vai Sibari,” said Esofi haltingly. Compared to her mastery of the languages of Thiyra and Ioshora, she had only a rudimentary grasp on it and doubted she’d be able to say anything of worth.
“I did not wish to die,” said the dragon. It looked down at the wound Esofi had inflicted. “I am not ready to see Dia Astera.”
Esofi had so many questions, but not enough words. “Then…why?” she asked, hoping he understood her meaning.
“Orders,” said the dragon.
“Who orders?”
“Rvadron.”
Esofi shook her head blankly at the unfamiliar word.
“Mother has warned us, but he will not listen,” continued the dragon mournfully. “I hope that when he arrives, you pay him the same favor.”
“Why do you only speak to me now?” asked Esofi.
“You wear Mother’s marks,” said the dragon. “There, on your back.”
“Oh,” said Esofi, wondering how in the world she could have forgotten. The phases of the moon, ornately decorated and stylized, had been tattooed down her spine in sapphire ink. She had received them as part of her full initiation into the Silence of the Moon. With her dress torn as it was, the marks were now visible. “Wait! I will call a healer!”
“I will not betray my Rvadron, even if I could,” said the dragon. “A quick death at your hands is preferable to what he will do if…” The immense body suddenly shuddered. The blood was coming more quickly now, streaming across the stones. The dragon lowered its head to rest against the ruined wall.
“I am sorry,” whispered Esofi. “I’m so sorry.”
“You could not know what was never spoken,” said the dragon. Its eyes—his eyes—were growing dull. “Perhaps Dia Astera will be an improvement. I leave this in your hands.”
By the time the guards arrived in a cacophony of iron and shouting, he was already dead.
Esofi was aware they were asking her questions but could do no more than stare blankly. Someone finally grabbed her by the wrists—Captain Lehmann.
“Princess, are you injured?” he demanded. “Can you hear me?”
Esofi shook her head. Then she nodded.
“All right, that’s enough,” snapped a familiar voice. Esofi turned, as Lisette emerged from the shadow of the tower. She was dressed in hooded leather armor. “The princess needs to return to the castle.”
Captain Lehmann released her arms, and Esofi went to Lisette.
“You saw?” asked Esofi.
“I saw,” confirmed Lisette. “I heard.”
For some reason, this was comforting. “You could have helped.”
“I would have if you needed it,” said Lisette, unbothered. Esofi started as something touched her back, only to realize that Captain Lehmann was draping his cloak across her shoulders.
“Where is the crown princess?” Esofi asked.
“She’s out here too?” Lehmann looked enraged. “Of course. She’ll see me cast out of the city yet.”
“I left her in a tavern,” said Esofi. “With her friends.”
“You will find them in the Rabbit District,” contributed Lisette. “Now, I need to get the princess back to the castle immediately.”
Lehmann barked out a few orders, and Esofi was led down to the ground. There, more guards waited with a pair of Ieflarian mountain ponies for her and Lisette. As they rode through the streets, Esofi could see people beginning to emerge from the buildings warily, still occasionally glancing skyward. But mostly, they stared at her. Esofi spared a moment to wonder how terrible she must look, dress torn practically in two and covered in drying dragon blood.
But that wasn’t important, not compared to the fact that the dragon had spoken to her—and in a language of Men, no less. Esofi had been raised to believe that the dragons had lost the ability to speak in ages long past, and none of the dragons she’d encountered had ever challenged the notion until now.
But why? Men had killed so many dragons in the last century. If they could speak, if they could reason, it could have all been avoided. But the things the dragon had said made her think that the dragons were actively choosing not to speak.
He trusted me because he realized I was a follower of Talcia. But he saw my magic long before the Silence markings. Why is magic alone not enough?
I need to learn to speak Sibari properly.
They made it back to the castle without incident. Adale was waiting for them just in front of the main entryway, pacing anxiously. When she saw Esofi, she hurried to meet her.
“Are you all right?” cried Adale.
Esofi just nodded.
“You’re covered in blood!”
“It’s not mine,” said Esofi, looking down at her dress.
“Oh,” said Adale. “I…I saved your…” She pulled a handful of jewelry from her bag and proffered it to Esofi. Esofi gave a small laugh and passed the jewels to Lisette, who huffed and strode into the castle.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” asked Esofi, following after her.
“Well, I am,” said Adale, rubbing the back of her neck. “I think they’ll forgive you, though, since you killed another dragon.”
Esofi said nothing. To Adale—to everyone—the dragon had just been another roving monster. How in the world could she convince everyone that it was more complicated than that?
“Do you speak Sibari?” asked Esofi abruptly.
“Sibari?” Adale repeated. “A little. It could be better. Why?”
“The dragon spoke to me in Sibari,” said Esofi. “Just before he died.”
Adale stared at her. “What?”
“He spoke to me,” said Esofi. “In Sibari. But he kept saying a word—Rvadron. I don’t know what—”
“Dragons can’t talk.” Adale was still frowning. “You told me so yourself.”
“This one could!” Esofi gripped a handful of her own hair. It was stained red. “And I think the others can, too. They’re just…choosing not to. I swear I’m not mad.”
“I don’t think you’re mad,” said Adale. “But I am confused. Why don’t the dragons talk to us?”
“It’s something to do with Talcia,” said Esofi. “And the Rvadron. I’m just not sure what. I need to sit down and think, but I’m too exhausted right now.”
“The ambassador from Veravin is here with his wife,” offered Adale. “You could meet with them tomorrow. Maybe they’ll be able to help you.”
Esofi rubbed at the blood drying on the side of her face with Lehmann’s cloak, knocking it askew. “I just hope they don’t think I dreamed the whole thing.”
“Even if they do, they can’t do anything about it,” said Adale. “They’re ambassadors, they have to be… What is that?”
“What?”
“The markings on your back… No, don’t turn around, I want to see them.” Esofi was all too aware of Adale staring on her back. “What are they?”
“It’s…difficult to explain,” said Esofi.
“I want to see all of it,” said Adale, reverently.
Esofi wrapped the cloak around her shoulders again. “Sign the marriage contract, and you shall.”