Chapter Six
ADALE
Adale woke with a sense of purpose and a throbbing headache. The festivities had continued into the night after news of Esofi slaying the dragon made it around the city, and she’d seen no reason to go to bed after that. The twins were furious that Adale had managed to steal Esofi away during the ball and had made their displeasure known by spilling wine on her when she’d returned to their party to see if there was any food left.
Adale glanced in the mirror. The previous night’s coiled braid had come loose and was now hanging down her back, there was still dried wine sticking to her neck, and she had a cut above her eye where Svana had slashed at her with magic after Adale punched her in the nose. Perhaps a bath was in order.
Every castle, palace, and manor house in the land had a youth blessed with Inthi’s gift of flame in its service. Usually no older than ten, the child’s sole responsibility was heating water for baths and laundry (and occasionally tea, if someone was feeling particularly impatient). It wasn’t a difficult job, and usually tipped well, but it was never permanent. Inevitably, the children would discover a passion for one of Inthi’s arts and leave for the workshops, whereupon another blessed child would be brought in as a replacement.
Adale rang for the heater, and they (the blessed of Inthi were almost always neutroi, just as Inthi was) arrived quickly, followed by a trio of maids bearing buckets of water. If—no, when Adale was queen, she’d have the metalworkers from Inthi’s District put in pipes to run water through the castle, like the ones the emperor had in Xytae.
She took her time with the bath, reflecting on yesterday’s events with a surprising sense of satisfaction. Esofi had chosen her over her cousins yet again. Her only true regret was that she’d been useless at helping defeat the dragon. Why had the twins been granted magic instead of Adale? It was fundamentally unfair, decided Adale, conveniently forgetting what her attitude toward the gods had been for the last seventeen years.
Once the water had gone cold, Adale forced herself to dry off, braid her hair, and dress herself. Then she set off in search of the ambassadors from Veravin, the Lord Matvei and Lady Yekarina.
It was still somewhat early, so Adale decided to check the banquet hall first. The ambassadors weren’t there, but she paused to eat anyway. When she was finished, she asked the servants if any of them knew where the ambassadors had gone. Someone finally directed her toward one of the sitting rooms.
Lord Matvei and Lady Yekarina were an older couple who spent most of their time with Adale’s parents. Like most people from the icy northern continent of Siabaeld, they were quiet, bordering on dour—until they laughed, and then they blazed like a fire. Today, they were alone, sitting across from one another with some incomprehensible board game on the table between them. When Adale entered the room, they both looked up.
“Crown Princess,” said Lord Matvei, rising. “Do you need this room?”
“Oh no, not at all,” said Adale. “I was actually looking for you.”
The couple didn’t seem surprised to hear this, but then, they never showed much emotion. Adale closed the door behind herself and took a seat. The two Veravinians continued to watch her, expressionless. She decided not to waste any time.
“Princess Esofi told me something strange last night, just after she slew the dragon that attacked the wall,” said Adale. “She said that it spoke to her, in Sibari.”
Lord Matvei and Lady Yekarina glanced at one another.
“It said the word Rvadron to her,” said Adale. “And she thinks it might be important. Do you know what it means?”
“Rvadron is a title,” said Lord Matvei. “A king, but more than a king. A king over other kings. An emperor. When we speak of Ionnes of Xytae, we also call him Rvadron, and Xuefang of Anora is Rvadrai—that is the woman’s title, and Rvadat is for neutroi.”
“There was once a Rvadron of Siabaeld,” added Lady Yekarina. “He ruled all the nations of Siabaeld, the lands that are now called Sterentand and Veravin and Cilva. But no man has held that title in centuries. Now we have only Zov and Ziav, king and queen, and we are independent from one another.”
“Did you know that the dragons can still speak?” asked Adale. “I thought—everyone thought they’d forgotten how.”
“They are strange, secretive creatures,” said Lady Yekarina. “It makes little difference whether they cannot speak or will not speak, for there is no difference in the quality of silence. Siabaeld remembers a time when they were our allies, but that is past.”
“But they don’t attack your country, do they?”
“We have the gifts granted by Lady Talcia and Lady Avala,” said Lord Matvei, naming the Goddess of Winter who was the Eleventh in Siabaeld. “They know this, and do not trouble us often. And their blood is cold, so the winter makes them sleep. We see nothing of them until midsummer.”
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. But Adale wasn’t ready to bring her findings to Esofi just yet—she had a feeling she could do better. Adale thanked the couple for their help and hurried away, turning the new information over in her head.
The royal library was a place she had only ever visited when she was dragged there by her tutors, but perhaps it held more answers. As she approached the doors, she spared a glance toward the statue of Ethi, the God of Knowledge, just outside. Around the base, a few sticks of incense smoldered, and the offering bowl was half filled with copper coins, sprigs of herbs, and crow feathers. Adale rummaged in her pockets and dropped a few coins into the mix.
Inside, the library was dim and quiet. The front was filled with tables of all sizes, where a few people worked in absolute silence. Farther back was the area where the neutroi librarian-priests shuffled about in their brown robes, repairing old books and muttering to each other. On either side stretched the endless shelves that made up the library collection.
Adale passed the tables and approached the librarians. They all looked confused at the sight of her.
“I need—” began Adale, only to start at how loud her own voice sounded in this place. Trying again, this time in a whisper, she said, “I need information about the dragons.”
One of the librarians stepped forward, a pale and smooth-faced neutroi with short black curls. “I will assist you, Crown Princess. Follow me.”
Down the dimly lit stacks they went, the librarian seeming to know exactly where to go. Then Adale realized she probably wasn’t the first one to ask about the dragons. Her parents or their advisors had surely made the same request before.
After a few minutes of silent walking, the librarian stopped and gestured to a shelf. “Everything from here—” One gloved hand indicated a book bound in faded red leather. “—to here—” A thinner tome, this one more folio than book. “—is what we have about dragons.” The collection wasn’t much, hardly taking up a full shelf. “Beyond this point is wyverns. If you come over to this side, these are the general magical beast books. They might be of use to you if you’re just starting out.”
Adale looked at the first book, the red one, and began to reach for it, but the librarian stopped her.
“Here, put these on first,” they said, withdrawing a pair of silk gloves from somewhere in their robe, identical to the ones all the librarians wore. “Many of these texts are too delicate for bare hands.”
Adale put the gloves on and took the book off its shelf. The librarian still looked a bit anxious, though, and added, “If you sit by a window, make sure you don’t hold the pages in direct sunlight. And…don’t turn down the corners to mark a page. Use this.” The librarian reached into their pocket again, this time withdrawing a long white ribbon.
Adale put the ribbon in the book’s cover, and the librarian left her at last. She went in search of somewhere to sit. She eventually found a musty-smelling but very soft chair in a little alcove and settled down to read.
The book was titled Dragons of the North. The text was old, and many of the words were spelled strangely, though fortunately not so strangely that she couldn’t decipher their meaning. The introduction to the book explained that while there were numerous kinds of dragons in existence, the author would be focusing only on the breed that dwelled in Ioshora and Siabaeld and Thiyra, which he called the Greater Northern Dragons.
Adale wondered if there was such a thing as a Lesser Northern Dragon.
It rapidly became apparent that the author of this tome, whoever he was, had been a bit of an eccentric. He’d stalked entire groups (“flights,” he’d called them) over mountaintops and across countries, armed with only a notepad and a sketchbook, to study how they interacted with one another and what the stages in their life cycle looked like. The illustrations were interesting to look at, but Adale had a feeling he didn’t know any more about the Emperor Dragon than she did. While old, the book had been written long after the dragons had stopped communicating with mankind. Everything this author knew came from observation alone.
He did seem to have his suspicions about dragon intelligence, though. Sprinkled throughout the book were anecdotes that suggested the dragons were far wiser than ordinary beasts. But, he added, the dragons had learned his scent and knew he was observing them. If only he could have watched them in secret, to see how they behaved when they believed no eyes were upon them.
Adale didn’t usually do much reading, but this book contained enough tales of risk and danger and aerial dominance fights to keep her awake. Even the disgusting descriptions of molting and the explanations of how a mother dragon would breathe fire onto her egg to keep it warm were actually far more interesting than she’d thought they’d be.
Adale was drawn from the book by the sound of her own stomach growling. Surprised, she looked out the window and saw the sun was directly overhead—she’d spent the entire morning reading.
Adale set the bookmark between the pages and closed the book. She doubted she’d be allowed to take something so old and fragile out of the library, so she returned it to the shelf and decided to go in search of food.
The afternoon meal was already being set out, but Adale found she was having trouble focusing on what was in front of her. Her mind seemed somewhere far away, tracking wild dragons across the north, even while her body sat at the familiar long table. She ate quickly and spoke to nobody—fortunately, nobody tried to speak to her, either. In less than half an hour, she was back at the library, book in hand, her chair still warm.
She finished the rest of the book that day, but despite the wealth of new information about dragons, she still had nothing about the emperor that Esofi’s dragon had spoken of. Still, there was an entire shelf of books that she hadn’t read yet. Adale resolved to return the following day to see if her luck would be any better.
The next day, she was back again with the rising of the sun, so early that she had to wait outside the doors for the head librarian to arrive and unlock them. This time, she was a little bit more discerning with her selection. While she thought Esofi would be incredibly impressed if she read every single dragon-related book in the library, she knew they didn’t have that kind of time. So after a few more fruitless hours, she decided to approach the librarian who had helped her previously—they had seemed more friendly and approachable than the others.
“Excuse me,” whispered Adale. “I need some help.”
The librarian looked up from their work and smiled. “Of course, Crown Princess. Are you still looking for dragons?”
“Right. But I don’t know if I’m finding what I need here,” said Adale. “These books are all fairly recent. I think I probably want something older. Legends, maybe.”
The librarian nodded. “I see. You might find more at the Temple of Talcia, then.”
“What do you mean?” asked Adale.
“You know that when Inthi forged Inthya it was little more than a molten stone until the other gods filled it with their gifts,” said the librarian, citing the creation story that all children knew. “Iolar’s gift was mankind. Talcia’s was the magical beasts of the wilds, including the dragons.”
Adale had always known what Talcia’s contribution to the world had been, but she’d never made the connection to the dragons. It seemed wrong that one of the Ten had created such terrible creatures. They were the sort of thing she’d expect from one of those frightening Elven gods, perhaps.
Elves had been banned from all of Ioshora centuries ago, but two had come on behalf of their king in hopes of reopening the border when Adale was very young. None of the regents of Ioshora had chosen to take the elves up on their offer.
Elves didn’t look so different from Men; they had two legs, two arms, and one head apiece. But there was such a coldness in their eyes, and the way they walked and gestured reminded Adale of the way a spider zigzagged across the floor when it ran. It was as though, Countess Amala had murmured later, someone had taken a creature with lots of limbs and poured it into a Man’s body. Not even the Mer, with their rows and rows of triangular teeth, had ever made Adale feel so cold inside.
But she had seen the carving of the dragon on the courtyard wall when she’d visited the temple with Esofi that day. Perhaps the priestesses did know something—though she wasn’t sure if any of them would have the time to help her, considering the influx of new mages. People were starting to come to the city from the surrounding farmland, looking to master their new gifts.
Still, it would impress Esofi and that was the most important thing, or perhaps the most important thing was protecting the city against the emperor and impressing Esofi was only the second most important thing. Adale decided she wouldn’t get tangled up in the details. Leaving her waiting ladies behind, she set off for the Temple of Talcia.
The Temple District was never very crowded, even though it was home to the great temples of almost every deity worshipped in Ieflaria. There were a few notable exceptions: the Great Temple of Inthi was located in Inthi’s District, where the craftsmen and smiths of Birsgen worked, and the Great Temple of Merla was not in Birsgen at all—it was a hundred miles away on the eastern coast, in Valenleht.
Adale didn’t have far to walk because the temples of the Ten were closest to the castle. She traveled slowly, enjoying the morning sunlight and mild breeze. The Temple of Iolar was busiest, with a few elders conversing on the steps—Adale guessed they’d been at the sunrise service and had nothing to do for the rest of the day. A priest argued vehemently with a paladin, and she suppressed a small laugh.
Across the street, dressed in full plate and wielding massive battleaxes, a few priestesses guarded the entryway to the Temple of Reygmadra, Goddess of Warfare. They were stoically ignoring their neighbors, the priestesses of Dayluue, who called hopefully to them as they tended to the roses growing around their own temple.
Adale arrived at the Temple of Talcia soon enough, crossed the courtyard, and entered the sanctum. She knew the students were in the main room where services were usually held, and when she went to the door, she could see the new mages doing…something.
“Can I help you?” asked a sharp voice.
Adale turned, and the priestess who had spoken gave a little start.
“I’m sorry, Crown Princess,” she said quickly. “I didn’t recognize you. Are you here to observe the training?”
“No,” said Adale, casting another glance into the room. Esofi was at the front, smiling and watching one of the instructors explain something to the students. “I was actually hoping I could look at the temple’s library.”
The priestess gave a nod. “Of course. It is upstairs—let me show you.”
Adale let the priestess lead her away from the sanctum and up a flight of stairs that she’d never truly noticed before. The walls were painted with scenes of the night sky that darkened as they ascended.
Upstairs was a wide-open room that looked like it was used for meetings. On both sides of the room were doors, one set plain and ordinary and the other oddly embellished with a familiar pattern. It took her a moment to realize where she knew the design from—it was identical to the tattoo on Esofi’s back, or at least, what she’d seen of it.
“What is that?” asked Adale, pointing.
“Oh, it’s noth—nothing, Crown Princess,” said the priestess, but the lie was clumsy in her mouth. “Please, come this way.”
“What’s behind those doors?” demanded Adale.
“It’s only unused rooms,” said the priestess. “Nobody’s been in there in an age.”
“But the marks on the doors—what do they mean?”
“It’s only the phases of the moon,” said the priestess, moving toward the opposite doors, the plain ones. “Don’t you want to look at the library?”
“Tell me what they mean,” said Adale. “That’s an order.”
The eyes of the priestess hardened, but Adale met her glare evenly.
“It is the mark of the Silence of the Moon,” said the priestess at last. “But there is no Silence of the Moon in Ioshora, and so the rooms stand empty.”
“What is the Silence of the Moon?” asked Adale.
“It is another way of worshipping Lady Talcia,” said the priestess. “Wholly unnecessary—the temple has always been enough.”
“If the temple is enough, why is there a room set aside for it in here?” countered Adale.
“The members of the Silence of the Moon dwelt in the wilds. They felt they were closer to Talcia that way. When they were called to Birsgen, the temple allowed them to stay here, out of respect for our shared devotion. But the Great Mother and the archpriestess frequently disagreed, and so the visits were never pleasant.” The priestess frowned. “But you have seen their marks before?”
Adale froze.
“You have seen the marks before,” repeated the priestess, but this time it wasn’t a question. There was a curious, calculating look in her eyes, and Adale could not allow this affront to Esofi’s honor to stand.
“I never touched her!” she protested.
“Is that what you think this is about?” said the priestess, eyeing Adale as though she were a particularly foolish child.
“What is it about, then?” asked Adale.
The priestess pressed her lips together and shrugged. Adale realized that there was no order she could give that could force the priestess to give a truthful answer, and pelting her with gold coins probably wouldn’t get her very far, either. She would have to try negotiating instead.
“If you tell me what you know,” said Adale, “I’ll tell you what I know about the princess.”
The priestess turned away and walked into the next room, gesturing for Adale to follow. As she shut the door behind them, Adale looked around. This was the library, not nearly as expansive as the one in the castle but still full of potential.
“Queen Gaelle of Rhodia is the Great Mother of the Silence of the Moon in Thiyra,” said the priestess in a very low voice, drawing Adale’s attention back to her. “She thinks that allows her to command the Temple of Talcia. And that may be the case in Rhodia, but it will not be so in Ieflaria. Princess Esofi may have brought magic back to our lands, but we only take orders from our archpriestess and our goddess.”
“Esofi isn’t like that,” protested Adale. “She doesn’t want to command the temple! She just wants to protect everyone from the dragons.”
The priestess didn’t look particularly convinced.
“I mean it,” said Adale. “She isn’t going to try to undermine you. She’s been nothing but respectful of the temple, hasn’t she?”
“That means nothing,” said the priestess. “You’ve seen how the Temple of Iolar struggles with the Order of the Sun. The Temple of Talcia is not nearly as strong. We could not withstand that sort of opposition.”
“Esofi isn’t going to oppose you,” insisted Adale. “And even if she was—which she’s not—but if she was, she wouldn’t have the kind of power that the Order of the Sun does. They’ve existed here for centuries. It takes time to build up that kind of influence from nothing.”
Still, the priestess was silent.
“And besides,” Adale went on, “Esofi—she—her mother—they don’t…they’re nothing alike. Even you can see that.”
“Perhaps,” granted the priestess, but she still sounded wary. She began to turn away, but Adale realized she had another question.
“Talcia’s worship,” she said. “Why did Ieflaria abandon it?”
The priestess looked a little surprised at the question. “Why do you think? It is extremely difficult to convince people to worship the one who brought monsters into the world.”
“But I thought the dragons only started attacking us after we lost our magic?” pressed Adale. “We were able to fight them before that.”
“The people of Ieflaria felt that, if they were pious, there was no reason they should ever need to fight dragons,” said the priestess. “Or so it was, back in the days your grandfather ruled. It was a slow thing, at first. Worshippers blamed Talcia when dragons attacked, and so the gifts of magic were not granted as often. Without new mages, the attacks worsened, and so did mistrust of Talcia. It is a cycle that must be broken if we are to survive.”
“I think someone already has broken it,” said Adale.
The priestess tilted her head in a half nod. “Perhaps. But now I will leave you to your reading. Try not to make a mess.”
“EMPEROR?” SAID ESOFI.
“That’s what they told me,” confirmed Adale.
It was just past noon, and Adale had somehow managed to convince Esofi to pause her training so that she could eat while Adale told her of her findings. She also had a pile of notes that she’d written at the temple, and now she sorted through them, trying to find the most useful bits of information.
“Were you able to find anything else about the emperor?” asked Esofi.
“No,” said Adale. “But I want to go back and take a closer look. Their library isn’t nearly as large as the one we have here, but the books are all more useful. I’m sure if anyone has written something down about the emperor, it’s in that temple.”
Esofi’s shoulders slouched, and she pressed one hand to the side of her face. “I wish I hadn’t killed him,” she whispered. “He could have told me…”
“Sorry, have you forgotten about the part where he was trying to kill you?” Adale interrupted. “If he’d wanted to live, he could have started off by talking, instead of flying around breathing fire at the city watch.”
“I know,” said Esofi, but she sounded no less miserable. “Still, killing them never troubled me. Why should it have? Farmers don’t worry when they eat a chicken. Guardsmen kill wild boars and bears for our protection. The royal huntsman brings carcasses for the castle cook, and he is proud of his work. I was no different from any of them.”
“You’re right, you’re not,” said Adale. “There was no cruelty in your heart when you killed them.”
“But all this time, I’ve been wrong. They weren’t animals, and I don’t even know how many of them I’ve slaughtered!”
“Esofi, you couldn’t have known,” said Adale. “In fact, it sounds like they’ve been doing it on purpose. What did the dragon say to you? He was following orders. Their emperor has forbidden them to speak to us.”
“But what could they stand to gain from that?” asked Esofi. “It defies reason.”
Adale shrugged. “I don’t know either. But I’m going to keep researching.”
Esofi gave a small smile. “You know, I never took you for an academic.”
“I know. My potential was squandered by tutors who insisted I study boring things,” said Adale. “For example. Did you know a dragon will shed its skin once every few years?”
Esofi laughed. “Yes, I did. They’re eerie when you find one intact.”
“See? And all my tutors wanted to talk about were wars and great-grandparents and what might happen if Emperor Ionnes gets bored of fighting with Masim.” Adale leaned back in her chair and sighed heavily. “He’s never going to, by the way. And even if he did, Ieflaria is too cold for him.”
“You’ve met him?”
“We went to his wedding… What was it, five years ago now? He spent more time talking about what his troops were doing than anything else, even with Enessa Eusicybr right there. His own mother yelled at him in front of everyone for ignoring his fiancée. The ceremony didn’t go on for too long, but the party afterward lasted a week.”
“My family was invited, but they decided not to make the trip,” said Esofi. “I’d hoped they’d send me with the ambassador so I could meet your family, but my mother didn’t want Ionnes thinking we cared about what he was doing.”
“Oh, but that would have been fun,” said Adale. “There was so much to do, even for children. I think the entire country shut down to celebrate.” Adale suddenly looked introspective. “I just had an idea. What if Emperor Ionnes is the dragons’ emperor?”
Esofi burst out laughing. “Adale, really!”
“No, I mean it! Everyone knows he wants to take over the world. If he found a way to control the dragons—”
“If he found a way to control the dragons, they would be attacking Masim, not Ieflaria,” said Esofi. “Besides, the dragons have been pretending to be animals for centuries now. He’s barely thirty.”
“All right, yes, but what if it’s a family tradition, passed down through the generations in secret?”
“No, Adale,” said Esofi, gently but firmly. “Emperor Ionnes is not the emperor that the dragon was referring to. His family could not have kept that kind of power secret for so long.”
Adale made a disappointed sound. “It can never be the easy answer, can it?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Esofi with a wry smile.
Adale suddenly realized that she had actually been enjoying herself. “Where are the twins?”
“Oh, they didn’t tell you? They’ve gone home,” said Esofi.
Adale missed her mouth with her drink. “They…what?”
“Oh, not forever. They promised they would be back in less than a week. They said they had to retrieve something.”
“From Valenleht?”
“I think so. Or…no! They said they were going to visit their mother’s estate. But they wouldn’t say why.” Esofi smiled. “It’s a surprise.”
Examining her feelings, Adale realized that she was oddly unbothered by this. Let the twins have their schemes. She was doing important work.
“Is it safe for them to be running around with almost no training?” asked Adale.
“I think so,” said Esofi. “I hope so. They’re both very talented. As long as they don’t lose their tempers, they’re easily the best in the class.”
THE LITTLE LIBRARY kept by the Temple of Talcia was not as organized as the Royal Library. There was evidence that someone, at some point, had attempted to group the books by subject. But it seemed the collection had been neglected for a very long time, and so Adale was left with no choice but to examine each book individually.
She was not so disciplined that she could simply begin with the first book on the highest shelf and work her way across. At first, Adale selected the books with interesting spines and bright colors, with dyed leather covers and gilt edges. Unfortunately, most of those texts were too modern to be of any great use, and had nothing at all to do with dragons.
Never one for moderation, Adale decided instead to look for the oldest, rattiest, crumbliest pile of parchment and dust that she could find. She found a likely looking tome after a few minutes, sliding it off the shelf carefully. A thin stream of dust fell to the floor in its wake.
Adale brought the book to the table and opened the cover, which made a terrible cracking sound and immediately detached itself from the book’s spine. She looked around hastily but was alone. Perhaps the priestesses would believe that it had been broken before Adale got to it. Perhaps they would not notice at all.
As she turned to the first page, Adale’s heart sank when she realized she could not read the title—it was in some ancient dialect that she had never seen before. But the illustration just below it was promising. It was a drawing of a dragon, silhouetted against the moon.
Adale chewed her lower lip, thinking. Perhaps one of the court historians could make sense of it, or one of the priests at the library. But for some reason, the thought was unappealing. They were probably all doing whatever it was they did for her parents that kept Ieflaria running. She shouldn’t bother them with her silly whims…
It’s not silly. It could be the key to defeating the dragons.
Or it could be nothing but useless nonsense.
The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs outside made Adale turn a few more pages rapidly, hoping they were enough to hide the detached cover. As the door opened, she arranged her face into what she hoped was an innocently neutral expression.
But it was not a blue-robed priestess that stood in the doorway. Instead, it was Esofi, her skirts threatening to catch on the doorframe.
“Princess?” asked Adale. “What are you doing up here?”
Esofi glanced around the little library. “I could ask you the same thing. Are you still searching for information?”
“Yes,” Adale said. “Are you surprised?”
Esofi gave a very small smile. “A little, though perhaps that is unfair of me—I do apologize.”
“How is the training coming along?” Adale asked. “Or have you grown tired of it already?”
“I needed to rest my mind,” admitted Esofi. “But our newly blessed students have excellent instructors and so I do not think my absence will be any terrible loss. And I was curious—I have never been in this area of the temple before.”
She had to have seen the doors, the ones with the carvings that matched the markings inked onto her back. But Esofi said nothing about them, and so Adale did not raise the subject.
“Well,” said Adale, “I think this book looks promising, but I can’t read it—the dialect is too old. I was just wondering if it was worth troubling the court historians over.”
Esofi came over to look at the open page. She squinted at the words for a long moment and then shook her head in defeat, her curls bouncing with the movement.
“I could not begin to read that,” she said.
“Some of it looks a little familiar, here and there,” said Adale. “See…I think that word is egg. The…egg…something, is hatched, maybe?…and is…I don’t know that word…the dragon—ahh, that word is dragon, maybe that will help…”
“Would it help if I took dictation for you?” asked Esofi.
“Maybe,” said Adale. “I think it’s easier to understand if I stop thinking and just say the sounds as they appear.” She began to flip through the pages again. “But that will take an age. Stop me if you see anything that might have to do with the emperor.”
To Adale’s surprise, Esofi took a seat and settled in to help. But even with the princess’s help, it was several hours before they happened upon anything particularly interesting.
Despite her expectations, Adale had fallen into a sort of rhythm with the old dialect. It was strange in her mouth, but she was able to determine the meaning of most of the words. With her eyes half focused and mouth relaxed, she found she could make her way through entire pages—far more than she’d ever believed possible when she’d first opened the book.
“…in that time, Mother granted the blessings of the Moon to her children alone. The foremost of her blessing was the…glittering…darkness that can be shaped to all things. But Mother saw her…husband’s children, and she was…compelled. She began to share her blessing with the…hatchlings of Man, and the Men grew to love her and call her Mother just as we always had…” Adale looked at Esofi. Esofi stared back at her, clearly thinking the same thoughts.
“Was this book written by a dragon?” asked Esofi.
Adale looked down at the book before her and imagined a dragon dipping the end of his silver claw into an enormous inkwell, trying to fit words onto tiny pages.
“He must have had a Man to perform the transcription,” said Adale, though the image that this conjured up was only slightly less ridiculous.
Esofi rested the side of her face in one hand and stared at nothing.
“Have you ever seen a dragon use magic before?” asked Adale.
Esofi shook her head. “A dragon with Talcia’s magic would be a terrible thing to see,” she said. “But they are one of her finest creations, and I can believe it was once so. It just seems odd that she would stop granting them magic.”
“Unless she’s angry at them,” pointed out Adale. “They’re going out and acting like dumb beasts and getting themselves killed. Maybe she decided they don’t deserve magic anymore. Like she did here in Ieflaria when her worship started dying out.”
Adale and Esofi returned to the palace for the evening meal. Adale was satisfied with all that she had accomplished so far, but she wondered if Esofi felt the same way. Did she blame Adale for taking her attention away from the newly blessed mages, or had she enjoyed poring over the old book?
But Adale was back the very next morning, ready to find more information that might be valuable. While Esofi continued to instruct the new-blessed Ieflarians, Adale continued to work her way through the ancient text. It was not as much fun without Esofi there to discuss her ideas with, but she was determined not to bother the princess until she found something important.
And so it was not until well past noon that Adale happened upon something that prompted her to run downstairs and drag Esofi away from her training. So great was her excitement that she practically pushed the princess up the stairs, though this was made difficult by the size and density of Esofi’s skirts. Fortunately, Esofi was not offended and laughed as Adale tried and failed to hurry her along.
Once upstairs, Adale rushed over to the table and grabbed the book before Esofi even had a chance to seat herself.
“Here, listen!” Adale said. She looked up to make sure Esofi was paying attention and then began to read. “The Flight is led by the Most Blessed. The Most Blessed is…selected by Mother…as the most powerful and…devoted…and is given…” Adale frowned. “The scent? The scent which compels obedience and unity among the Flight in times of danger.”
“Compels?” repeated Esofi.
“I think the emperor’s control over the other dragons is more powerful than him just outranking them,” Adale explained. “It seems like he might actually be able to force them to follow his orders. I don’t know if it’s magic or something simpler. But it almost reminds me of bees in a swarm, obeying their queen.”
Esofi looked thoughtful. “Did you see any mention of a way to break his influence?”
“No. But I think the emperor isn’t supposed to go around controlling everyone all the time. From what the book says, I think it’s because dragons aren’t good at working as a community. They’re too independent. But if a bigger threat comes along, they need to work together. That’s where the emperor comes in.”
“So the emperor has decided that mankind is a threat they must band together against,” mused Esofi. “I only wish I knew why.”
“Perhaps we can take one hostage and ask,” said Adale, prompting Esofi to laugh again. But Adale secretly wondered if she could do it, if she had her friends and some soldiers and some battlemages along to aid in the capture.
Esofi must have sensed her thoughts, because she said, “I do not believe your parents would appreciate you taking such a risk. Nor would I.”
“Don’t say that, there’s still the twins.” Adale smiled. “One way or another, you will have your wedding.”
“It’s not about the wedding,” said Esofi. “I do not wish to see you killed, for your own sake.”
Adale waved her hand to cover her discomfort. “Never mind that.”
“But I do mind,” Esofi said. “Very much. Or do you intend to blame yourself forever?”
“Everyone else does,” retorted Adale. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“They do not,” Esofi insisted, leaning forward. “And even if they did, they are wrong. It was an accident. It is not as though you murdered him for the crown.”
Adale could not help but laugh, and it seemed to free some of the darkness in her heart. “Yes, fortunately there was no question of that.”
“You are trying, Adale,” said Esofi. “Perhaps you will never be what Albion was, but you are not Albion. Nor are you the careless young woman I met two weeks ago. I hope you know how much that means to me—and to Ieflaria.”
Adale hoped her cheeks weren’t too red. Desperate to turn the subject away from herself, she said, “You’re different too, you know.”
“Am I?” Esofi laughed in surprise. “How so?”
“When you first arrived in Ieflaria, you would never have slipped away from a ball to dance in a tavern with foreign peasants,” Adale reminded her.
“I didn’t dance,” said Esofi quietly.
“You might have if the dragon hadn’t attacked so soon. My point stands.” Adale crossed her arms. “Come on. Aren’t you hungry? Let’s go find something to eat.”
Accompanied by a few guards, Adale and Esofi returned to the palace. The air was mild, and the sun was not too strong, and so they decided to take tea on the green, in the place where they first met.
“The priestesses have had a trying week,” observed Esofi. “But I like to think they are grateful for the excitement. The Temple of Talcia seemed to be a rather quiet place before I arrived.”
“You make the priestesses anxious,” Adale admitted. “Or I suppose I should say, your mother does.”
Esofi’s eyes were bright with curiosity. “What do they say?” She set down her teacup.
“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t know much,” said Adale, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. “They’re just afraid that you…or the Silence of the Moon…will undermine them. Like the Order of the Sun and the Temple of Iolar.”
Esofi sighed. “I do not wish to undermine the temple, but I understand their apprehension.”
“What is the Silence of the Moon?” asked Adale. “That is…if you’re allowed to tell me.”
Esofi rested her arms on the table. “It is not a secret, exactly, but there was something very mysterious and elite about it in Rhodia. My mother liked to claim it was the way Talcia preferred to be worshipped, away from temples and civilization. I do not know if she was correct, but I do know that it was pleasant to spend time away from the palace.”
“What did you do, once you were out in the wilderness?” asked Adale.
Esofi was quiet for a moment, thinking of her answer.
“To an observer, it might not seem that we were worshipping at all. But when Talcia’s children worship her, they do not cease their daily lives. They have no rituals or songs, and they build no temples or statues. They simply…live. To exist in her wilderness, with our thoughts focused on her love, is no different from how a gryphon or a roc worships.” She smiled up at Adale. “You would probably find it terribly boring.”
“Maybe,” said Adale. “But I find temples boring as well. I am only having difficulty picturing you barefoot in a forest somewhere.”
Esofi laughed. “It is too cold in Rhodia to go barefoot. Besides, it was not as rustic as you are thinking—the court would not tolerate that. We had great camps prepared so that we could return to luxury when the desire struck us.”
“That sounds like cheating to my ears,” teased Adale.
“Perhaps! But we are still Men, for all that my mother wishes she were a dragon. I think Talcia cannot fault us for the traits her husband gave us.” Esofi looked thoughtful, pensive. “I would like to see the Ieflarian wilderness. Particularly your northern lands. I am sure they are beautiful.”
“Perhaps you should arrange for a tour of the kingdom to follow your wedding,” suggested Adale. “I’m sure nobody could object to it—dragons are no match against you, and the people would love to see more of you.”
Esofi smiled. “Perhaps.” But before either of them could say any more, they were interrupted by a breathless maid.
“My ladies,” she whispered, chest heaving. “Forgive my intrusion, but Lady Svana and Lord Brandt have returned to the city. And they have brought with them—”
“Their manners?” muttered Adale.
“Shh, be polite,” said Esofi. She smiled at the maid. “Where are they?”
“On their way,” said the maid, pointing across the green. “You can already see everyone gathering.”
She was correct. Where there had been nothing but empty lawn and a few idle courtiers five minutes ago was now a swiftly growing crowd of onlookers who spoke excitedly to one another.
Adale frowned and got up. “What’s this all about?” But nobody seemed to have an answer for her. Then from up ahead, there was a shout of “Step aside!” and the crowd parted, revealing the twins. Something large and white walked between them, shying away from every sudden movement.
“What do they have?” asked Adale. “A horse?” Though she’d never seen a horse of such a color before. Its coat was painfully white, like harsh winter sunlight gleaming over fresh snow, and it was slender and long-legged, like the horses of Masim and the southern lands, but there was something not precisely right about the shape of it. Something quite unlike a horse at all.
Before Adale could inspect her thoughts more closely, before she could consider the cloven hooves or strange tuft of hair at the animal’s chin or the leonine tail that swept from side to side anxiously—before she could do any of that, the creature turned its head to the side and Adale saw, for the first time, the long and gleaming crystal horn that protruded from its forehead.
Esofi spilled her tea down the front of her dress.
Immediately, two different maids lunged forward with cloths to soak up the liquid, but Esofi seemed not to notice them. She moved toward the twins as if in a trance, and her hands very gently went to the unicorn’s face.
“It has lived on our mother’s lands for as long as anyone can remember,” Brandt was saying in a loud voice. “But we are the only ones who have managed to catch it.”
“You must tell me how you did it,” said Esofi.
“I sang to it,” said Svana smugly. A rope of glittering green magic was wrapped around the unicorn’s neck and clasped firmly in her hands. Adale almost bit through her own cheek while Esofi continued to exclaim over the creature.
“Do you like it?” asked Brandt at last.
“I love it,” said Esofi. She looked up. “This is so thoughtful. I shall never forget this. But…” She gazed at the unicorn, and it gazed back at her, almost…knowingly?
“But?” prompted Svana.
“Unicorns are magical creatures of the wild,” said Esofi gently. “To confine one in a city would be wrong. You must bring him back to your mother’s estate.”
“Then you reject the gift?” asked Brandt.
“This moment is gift enough,” said Esofi. She lowered her hands. “Promise me you’ll have him sent home?”
The twins glanced at each other, speaking with their hands and eyebrows in that way they sometimes did.
“Of course, Princess,” said Brandt, inclining his head slightly. “Of course.”
THE MOURNING PERIOD was over, and Adale found that she was actually looking forward to the engagement ball. Esofi had not made a formal announcement regarding her choice—that would be done at the ball itself—but confidence filled Adale with a warm glow.
Her mother seemed to agree, and it was with the contributions of what felt like every lady in the castle that Adale prepared for the evening. At the end of it, she was dressed in a gown made of midnight-blue silk with her braids coiled around her head in a complicated and somewhat uncomfortable way that nevertheless perfectly suited the tiara her mother had given her as a gift that same evening. Everything was new, from her shoes to her stockings to her gloves, and when she looked in the mirror, Adale thought that perhaps she wouldn’t be the worst queen in Ieflarian history.
She thanked her mother and her ladies profusely for their help and set off to find Lethea and Daphene, who had disappeared at some point during the application of face powder. As she walked down the familiar hallways, she noted to herself that the shoes weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as she’d assumed they would be.
The halls were so quiet it was almost eerie, but that didn’t dampen her spirits. Adale smiled to herself, wondering what trouble her friends had gotten themselves into this time and hoping it wouldn’t require any running or lifting to get them out of it—the dress was so delicate, she was afraid it might tear if someone looked at it too hard.
She didn’t notice the tendril of emerald light snaking around her foot until it slammed her to the ground.
When her vision cleared, all she could see were the twins sneering down at her.
“What are you doing?” shrieked Adale.
The twins both rolled their eyes in unison. “What do you think we’re doing, Adale?” retorted Svana. “We don’t know why you’re insisting upon carrying out this farce. You’d only doom Ieflaria if you married the princess.”
Adale tried to get up, but the vines were multiplying, binding her hands and legs together. “So this is your plan?” she cried, outraged. “You think that Esofi won’t hear about how you assaulted the crown princess? I’ll tell her that—”
“By all means, inform Princess Esofi,” said Svana cheerfully. “I’m sure she’ll believe that your loving cousins committed treason and risked exile to lock you in a room for twelve hours when it’s far more likely that you just changed your mind about the marriage and ran off to get drunk in some horrible tavern.”
A tendril wrapped itself around her head and across her mouth, cutting off any reply Adale might have given. The twins moved quickly, dragging Adale along the ground until they reached a familiar door—Albion’s old room. Brandt pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and they shoved Adale inside. With a sudden slam of the door, Adale was alone in darkness with only the faintly glowing light of emerald magic.
Adale tried to scream, but the vine in her mouth didn’t allow for it. She wriggled desperately, but the magical vines weren’t like rope. They couldn’t be broken or loosened at all.
Of course. Of course. Why had she thought the twins would just accept the loss gracefully? She had been so distracted by the dragons and so certain of Esofi’s affections that she’d completely failed to keep an eye on the twins, despite knowing perfectly well that they were more of a threat than ever before with their new magical abilities.
Thank you, Talcia, thought Adale. Why would the goddess give her gifts to those two? Why would any deity? Had Talcia known this would happen?
Had Talcia wanted it to happen?
Sod her. I don’t care what she wants. If Talcia wanted Esofi to marry one of the twins, she could come to Birsgen and tell her in person. Until then, Adale wasn’t going to give up. She paused to think and catch her breath. Iron was known to interfere with magic. Was there anything in the room made of iron? Adale focused, trying to pick out something helpful in the darkness.
But now the emerald vines were dissipating; either the twins had lifted the magic or it had worn off. The moment she was free, Adale scrambled to her feet and rushed to the door, only to find it was locked. She yanked at the handle and kicked repeatedly, but it was useless—this room had once belonged to the crown prince, and the door could withstand a siege.
“Hey!” yelled Adale. “Anybody! I’m locked in!”
But even as she shouted, she knew it was useless. Everyone from the lowest serving maid to the captain of the royal guard would be at the betrothal already.
Adale pressed her back to the door and slowly slid to the ground.
“Damn it,” she whispered. Svana was right—Esofi would never believe her side of the story, not with anything less than a Truthsayer to confirm her words, and Truthsayers were rarer than diamonds. It would take months for the Order of the Sun to locate one and then months for him to travel to Birsgen. By then, it would be too late.
Still, she forced herself to get up and go to the window, stumbling in the darkness. Someone had removed the expensive glass and boarded it up, so Adale spent a few useless minutes cracking her nails as she tried to wrench the wood free before giving up.
Adale went to the especially dark corner of the room where she knew the fireplace was. Fortunately, it wasn’t boarded up, and after a minute of scrabbling around, she felt a handful of sad little coals within. It took a bit of searching to find the flint, but she managed to get the coals lit. They barely gave more light than the magical vines had, but it was enough to locate a candle and set it aglow.
After taking a moment to congratulate herself, Adale went over to Albion’s desk to see if there was anything useful inside. It was filled with all sorts of things—nobody had cleaned it out during the mourning period. Something colorful caught Adale’s eye.
It was a miniature portrait of a tiny blonde baby girl with ribbons and curls in a lacy white dress. She was standing, so Adale supposed she was old enough to walk on her own but had no idea how old the child might be beyond that. Adale picked it up to find there was a whole stack of portraits underneath, each no larger than her hand.
The next portrait was the same girl but looking a little older, in another delicate dress. The next one featured the girl again, but now she looked like she was about the same age as the castle pages. Adale set the picture aside and went to the next—the same girl but now the age of a temple acolyte, draped in pearls. Now she was familiar enough that Adale finally recognized her.
Esofi.
It made sense, of course, but for some reason, Adale suddenly felt oddly hollow, as though Albion had led a secret life that she’d never known about. She set the portraits aside and looked at the papers underneath.
Letters. Addressed to Albion and written in delicate curling handwriting. Adale turned the first paper over and skimmed to the end, where it was signed with Esofi’s name.
Adale felt her heart lurch.
A thousand unwanted emotions rushed through her as she stared at the signature, followed by the odd feeling that perhaps she oughtn’t read the letter, perhaps it was none of her business what Esofi had had to say to Albion. The words had been meant for him, not for her, and Albion would have shared it with her if it had been any of Adale’s concern.
But before she could make a decision, the doorknob rattled, and Adale dropped the paper.
“Is someone there?” shouted Adale, rushing forward just as the door swung open. Lisette stood in the doorway, lockpicks still in her hands. Peering over her shoulder was Mireille, who beamed widely when she saw Adale.
“You!” said Adale. “How did you—?”
“Quickly,” said Lisette.