by Meagan Hurst
“What is your honest opinion of Nivaradros?”
“You should know better than to ask questions like that,” was the very tight response.
“I do. I still want it, Mithane. If you intend to put me in charge of your kingdom, you will award me the answer to the question I just asked. I want to know, Mithane, what you think of the Dragon. And not just how he and I relate.” She paused before speaking again. “You owe me.”
The smile that appeared on the Alantaion’s features should not have been a comfort, but it was. “You acknowledge it at long last. Oh, how I have waited for this day. Yes, Zimliya, you are correct, I do owe you. I wish the Shade was here to hear you say those words.” The Mithane watched her, but his gaze was with open approval. “As you have requested of me, I will speak of the Dragon.
“But where to begin? Shall I start with the fact that if you were not in the picture at all there would be no Nivaradros as he is now, and there would be every chance that my people and he would be at war until he either annihilated my people, or we managed to bring him to down from the skies and to his death? Perhaps not. Because although that is true, it is no longer even a possibility; he has surrendered his form. For you. Do not—do not ever—allow yourself to overlook that fact even from a distant standpoint. I would never have predicted such a sacrifice from him. He has banned himself from the skies because he realized that losing you was worse than losing anything else.
“What that tells me is the Dragon has been misrepresented by his actions. Due to the habits he picked up when he decided to become the Warlord, I would have thought even the slightest bit of affection toward anything that wasn’t power would have been impossible. He is—he will always be—reckless, self-indulgent, and arrogant, and yet there is a level of loyalty there that I overlooked, empathy I did not know could exist in any Dragon, much less him. He is far more powerful than I suspected he was; despite the limitations he placed upon me during my brief stay in his lair, I did notice the magic and the skill he has with it. He played a game of deception I would have considered above his level to keep so hidden for so long. He is in the process of discarding the work he put into hiding himself, because in his mind, it would be unseemly for you to end up with someone of significantly less power. In my mind, however, whatever you had decided, the rest of us would have had to accept with or without grace.
“He is good at keeping secrets—as all immortals should be. He knows more than he lets on, which concerns the hell out of me considering what he is. When he doesn’t know something, though, he is not concerned about losing face to research it. I’ve talked to Shalion; Nivaradros went through a lot of thought and work to learn about how to approach you. He didn’t just decide on a whim to make this effort to gain your trust; he first gathered the tools that would help him. Had we been in better standing, I believe he would even have been willing to come to me.
“Perhaps one of the more surprising things about your Dragon is that he has the ability to lead—he has always had it. I sensed it within him the first time we met, even though he was fighting alone and was in the midst of slaughtering everyone in his path. Despite that ability, Nivaradros has taken no steps to lead; in this, he is surprisingly like you. He does, however, intend for you to lead, and because of that desire, he is willing to be behind you all the way. If you think you cannot lead, Zimliya, I would put that fear aside; not only can you lead, but with Nivaradros you two will be formidable in a way that will be felt across all the worlds should the two of you desire it. Opinions, in general, don’t concern him. The only thoughts he cares about are yours—”
“That’s not accurate,” Z interrupted. “He cares about Veilantras’s.”
“He was willing to convince her that he planned to slay you the moment you granted him what he wanted; he does not care about Veilantras’s overall opinion. He is fond of her, but it is a very weak bond, and he ignores it whenever it suits his purposes. For you, on the other hand, he would change if you so much as asked, but as it is not in your nature to ask anyone to change who they are, any changes he makes will come out of his desire to behave according to how he thinks he should behave while he is with you.
“He is intelligent—to a frightening level—but lacks the patience that intelligence demands to deal with those who are not, at least, at his level. He has, overall, no patience for anything that he deems unworthy of his time; if it is unworthy of him it doesn’t matter how fast it is moving, it will still be too slow. He fears very, very little. In the past I would have said he feared nothing which is why he was so dangerous as an adversary. When you cannot find leverage against an enemy, it doesn’t matter what the numbers are—they will still do far greater damage than you anticipated, and they are terribly hard to kill.”
“And now?” Z pressed.
“He only fears losing you,” was the answer. It was expected, but that makes it no less hated. “It surprises me to no end the level of commitment I sense in him regarding you; he will do anything to keep you safe. The loss of his form will pale, I fear, against what he will prove himself willing to lose just to keep you.” The Mithane watched her—read her—and a slow smile touched his face. Oh, it was a bitter smile though. “He has displayed a surprising amount of diplomatic ability since he brought you to me those couple of mortal years ago. While it has been a work in progress, the fact that it has been in progress tells me he intends for you to host a proper court in each of your kingdoms. If you attempt to argue, I have a feeling he will win. For the sake of the world’s sanity I will ask you now to consider not arguing when the time comes. You can and do handle court just fine when it is required of you. I am certain you will not die from long-term usage and exposure.”
Fixing her with a dark look as she remained silent, the Mithane threw his hands up in disgust. “In other words, I misjudged your Dragon. He is very subtle and cunning with his plans, and I believe he thinks things through from all angles, as you do. In his youth, he was much more dangerous, but now that he’s settling into his own skin, I believe I will learn to regret our paths first crossed in such a dark manner. I am not fond of him, but I feel you’re safe with him. More importantly, I feel my kingdom is safe with you both.” His expression softened. “You chose well—never doubt yourself.”
“I likewise chose Nicklyn,” she pointed out.
“And you knew one of you would not survive no matter how it ended.”
“I’m not sure that speaks positively of my decision.” Throwing up her hands in disgust this time, she began to pace the area. “Evieck, I don’t trust myself anymore!” she snapped.
The Mithane watched her in silence—it had been years since she had dropped his title. “Zimliya—Z, tell me if you have ever trusted your judgment.”
Since she hadn’t, she fell silent, but she was still pacing, and she was agitated enough that the Mithane sighed and moved forward. As he caught her by the arms, she struggled for a moment.
“Let go,” she demanded. When he not only refused to let her go but didn’t speak further, Z sighed and forced herself to relax. “It hasn’t been this bad for a while.”
“Then you should not dwell on it,” the Mithane advised as released her. “You’ll figure this out—in the meantime, keep your Dragon close.”
Z snorted. “Then we should probably head his way.” She turned to walk away from him, but the Mithane grabbed her arm once more. When she turned, he spoke rapidly to her in his language. As always, the language caused her to settle and rethink things through. “You win,” she muttered.
“Good. Now we can go,” the Alantaion ruler said with a smile. Turning away first this time, he left the area with ease as Z to scrambled after him with an irritated cry.
“I absolutely hate when you do that,” she grumbled as she caught up with him.
“I know. Hence the reason I do it.” He offered her his arm and smiled when she accepted it without hesitation. “If you do not think that you have made the right choice, may I be so kind as to point out t
hat even a year ago this whole thing would have resulted in me being subjected to harm, you undergoing a minor meltdown, and the conversation you asked for having remained behind your lips. You also would not have considered reminding me of everything I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing of the sort,” she said.
“That’s not what you said so short of a time ago.”
Damned immortal memory. And their ability to not be above gloating. “Pretend I never said that.”
“Where would the fun be in that?”
She began to curse, and by the time she was finished, they were at the site that had been the temporary housing for the forces the Mithane had managed to summon or request. Eying the group for a moment, she pressed her lips together in thought, before grimacing as the Mithane cleared his throat.
“Evieck,” she murmured without thinking, “keep only your troops with you, send the rest back to Istuion.” Feeling his stare, she sighed. “You are returning home. Your kingdom has been subjected to a lot of changes, stress, and uncertainty. Marching in with an army of both your people and a large gathering of foreigners may concern the Alantaion population.”
“Always thinking ahead,” the Mithane remarked in a mild tone. “And yet you doubted yourself so recently. I will take that advice. Do me a favor and pass on the word to those standing back. As Nivaradros has supposedly retaken my kingdom, I now need to reassure my people that the world has not, in fact, ended.”
“Glad to see I am still the messenger,” Z teased with a crooked smile before slipping through the gathering crowd with ease. The Alantaions were going to their leader, which made it far easier for her to find those with whom she had things to discuss.
They accepted her words without a fuss. It was astonishing until she recalled they had been following the orders of their rulers and had little—if any—attachment to the Alantaions. They were here because the Alantaions had promised aid for their respective kingdoms once Arriandri was back in the hands of its rightful ruler. Being informed that the battle had already been fought and they could therefore return to Zyrhis’s—or, in reality, her—lands was a bright point in a day that had previously only promised a hard battle.
“I will see you back in Istuion then?” one of the Nialtians inquired. She glanced at him, surprised.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. It depends on the Mithane,” she admitted. “I will either return to Istuion to call everyone to arms again when I have a plan of approach and attack, or I will request that backup be sent to me.” Her smile was kind. “Either way, I am certain we will see each other again, Verisre—unless you happen to get yourself killed. Be careful which cup you chose.”
Verisre snorted. “I haven’t chosen death yet,” he pointed out. It was more impressive than some could claim; he was well over six millenniums old. His smile was also relaxed and Z wondered when he had decided he tolerated her existence. “Watch out yourself,” he cautioned, “I would hate to lose you now that you are worth the time my esteemed ruler has invested in you.”
Z chuckled. “I am certain I have invested more time in him than he has invested in me.”
“I suppose it depends on what stand you take,” the immortal replied with a shrug. “But if you get yourself killed, you’re going to disappoint me.”
Chapter 16
Arriandri was too silent. Z was keenly aware of this as she pushed her way through the frozen Alantaions in an attempt to reach the Mithane’s side. She ignored the stark fear around her; despite her earlier moment of insecurity, she knew Nivaradros and knew that he would not have destroyed the city without her permission. The outer reach of the kingdom had greeted them with warmth, so their arrival had been delayed not once, not even three times, but seven times before they had reached the edge of the capital.
While Z had been relieved and pleased to see the happy reception the Mithane had been granted by his people, the time it had cost them had caused her to grind her teeth with annoyance. She worried that Midestol had changed his mind; she worried Nivaradros was wounded and awaiting aid. By the time they had reached the edge of Arriandri, Z had almost been willing to leave the Alantaions behind. Her sense of duty and the slight possibility that Midestol had left someone to attack the Mithane kept her grounded, but it was a close thing. She hated the fact it was so hard for her—a year ago she would have been able to stay with the Alantaions without pause.
“It’s decidedly reassuring to see you act more like I would expect you to at long last,” one of the Alantaion Saers who had joined the Mithane in his exile remarked from beside her. She had sensed his approach, steeled herself for it, but it was nevertheless something that could still give her a slight chill. Even with her immortality aiding her, it was still hard to fully prepare herself; Alantaions were sneaky.
“And how is that?” she inquired as she offered him a small smile.
“You are more…it is hard to find the words in your language to describe it. I would say ‘Lesgetia fyas kamrnio’ were I to fall back to Alantaion.”
That particular phrase was hard to translate. Since she knew the language it wasn’t necessary, but it was an Alantaion saying that meant both coming into one’s own, and yet at the same time also meant showing more sentiment toward something—and it was not in a negative light. Inclining her head to show she appreciated his words, Z excused herself with care. She still disliked it when someone said something that seemed so out of place, and lately everyone had been more than willing to tell her what they thought of her.
It had something to do with her shift of power, but though Z knew that much, she couldn’t figure out why it mattered. Moving ahead with speed, Z led the way to Arriandie—ignoring the cries of fear and concern from behind her as the Alantaions realized she intended to head into the castle on her own. But she had to know—just what had Nivaradros done? She paid little heed to her surroundings until she reached the main doors of the castle. Placing her hands in the center of the two doors, she shoved and cleared the doors as they were still opening.
Signs that a powerful battle had been fought emerged before her. Steeling herself as she passed the wreck of the first hallway, she reached for her senses for the first time in years—seeking Nivaradros presence throughout the whole castle. He was in the throne room. Surprised, worried, and apprehensive about what she would find, Z pulled her senses back in tight and put them on lockdown as she walked. Bodies had been removed, but blood covered the floors and the walls, making it look as though some painter had gone and thrown his paint in a fit of rage throughout the Arriandie. The walls had also taken extensive damage from magic, and there were charred and broken in places. Whole sections of Arriandie would need massive repairs. There were splashes of Dragon blood, but they were few: a splash of color that looked black next to the deep burgundy of the Alantaion blood.
As she increased her pace, she saw the blood begin to fade as the Arriandin began to clean up what it could. It made her wonder if she would be attacked once more, but when she didn’t receive so much as a reply, she concluded she was no longer a target—for whatever reason, things had changed in her absence. By the time she reached the throne room, the halls had begun to go from insane painter to all out massacre and Z hesitated at the throne room doors. There was a fair amount of Dragon blood, but that wasn’t her main concern; the human and Alantaion blood was. With all the evidence of heavy resistance, and all the damage to Arriandie, Z didn’t know what to expect, and she found she was unwilling to step forward to find out.
“Your paranoia is misplaced,” a calm voice said from behind her. “He acted as he should have—nothing more and nothing less.”
Z turned around in surprise. Isneitane was leaning against the only non-blood covered—and whole—part of the wall behind her. Since the Alantaion never came out of his library unless summoned, Z almost couldn’t grasp his presence.
“What are you doing here?” she asked with an edge in her tone she didn’t understand.
“Spying,” was
the dry reply. Isneitane straightened from his position and approached her. “He is quite remarkable, Zimliya,” he added. “But, as he must know you are here, let’s not keep him waiting any longer.”
The librarian pushed the doors open to the throne room before she could protest, and Z steeled herself for the sight of more ruin and destruction. Instead, she found herself almost in awe at the sight before her. The throne room was spotless. If any battle had taken place here, every single sign had been removed; there wasn’t even a hint of blood in the air. Nivaradros sat on the floor before the Alantaion throne—which was odd—surrounded by, of all things, Alantaion small beings. There had to be a good fifteen of them on the floor with the Dragon and, as she entered at the side of Isneitane, Nivaradros didn’t even glance up.
She was in shock. Perhaps the healing had gone wrong or perhaps she had died. Never before had she seen the Dragon this patient, and she knew he hated small beings with a passion that could make her own dislike appear minor. Z began to head toward him and was surprised to find Isneitane kept pace with her.
“The Mithane is coming,” she told him with a small smile.
“Your ability to protect him is still impressive,” the ancient Alantaion remarked in an absent sounding manner. “I know assassins were sent after it was discovered you had gone missing.”
“We never ran into them; I’ll initiate a search later,” she promised. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Well he doesn’t deserve all the credit,” Kahreisa inserted as she joined them. The Saer’s eyes were blazing with suppressed anger, but it softened when she glanced at Nivaradros, Z almost swallowed her tongue in surprise. “He had to coax them out of hiding,” she explained. “And, therefore, he’s been with them ever since, entertaining them with magic.”
As she spoke, the Dragon looked up and toward them. Z saw irritation on his features, but she could also see his restraint to keep that frustration from being noticed by his charges. With much more care than she expected, Nivaradros untangled himself with care from the youngest of the young Alantaions and began to approach her. A smiled touched her features before she could stop it, and she left the two at her side by lengthening her strides; the Dragon lengthened his.