When She Reigns

by Jodi Meadows

  DEDICATION

  For those seeking hope

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  The Great Abandonment

  The Drakontos celestus

  Part One: The Harvest of Hope

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  The Drakontos celestus

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  The Drakontos celestus

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Part Two: The Greatest Calamity

  Chapter Eight

  The Drakontos celestus

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  The Drakontos celestus

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Part Three: No Dishonor in Fear

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Drakontos celestus

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Drakontos celestus

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Part Four: Love Survives Death

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Drakontos celestus

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Part Five: Something to Burn

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Part Six: The Darkest Day

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Jodi Meadows

  Back Ad

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  THE GREAT ABANDONMENT

  selections from

  the holy books of the Fallen Isles

  during the first through fifth years of the Fallen Gods

  When the rains are too much and too little, when the fields turn fallow, when the harvest of hope is small: the Great Abandonment has come.

  —The Book of the Daughter

  The greatest calamity comes in the night, when the people are not listening.

  —The Book of Silence

  Love survives death.

  —The Book of Love

  A true warrior faces the end with strength and honor. However, there is no dishonor in fear.

  —The Book of Warriors

  Remember: fire cannot exist without something to burn.

  —The Book of Destruction

  The brightest lights yield the blackest shadows, but even during the darkest day, the shadow soul of the dragon reigns.

  —The Book of Shadow

  They called me Hopebearer.

  Because hope was too heavy a burden for them.

  THE DRAKONTOS CELESTUS

  THE END OF THE FIRST DRAGON WAS THE BEGINNING of the Great Abandonment.

  Millennia ago, six constellations vanished from the sky. Then, fireballs streaked through the night and crashed into the sea with a thunder that rattled the world.

  The wounded ocean opened wide, its depths evaporating and scattering into the sky.

  Blazing debris rained from shattered heavens, and all across Noore, the air ignited and whipped into firestorms that burned until there was nothing but ash. Desperate people took shelter in caves and stone houses, but for many, it was too late. The fires had won.

  And in the middle of the ocean—

  As sister moons eclipsed the sun—

  From the molten rock of nascent lands—

  The first dragon erupted, star-scaled and crackling with divinity. A child of Fallen Gods: fire and death and sky incarnate.

  SOON AFTER, THE Great Abandonment began.

  When humans set sail across the sea, with unadulterated worship shining in their eyes and promises falling from their tongues.

  When they looked down and prayed, overcome with a sense of belonging.

  When they looked up and gasped, because there were dragons in the sky.

  And when they looked back at where they’d been and found more people coming—these with weapons drawn.

  A war began for the Fallen Isles, between those who’d come first, and those who’d come second. Generations were born and lived and died at war, but after hundreds of years of defending the islands from the kingdoms and clans of the mainland, a solution was decided upon.

  The first dragon led a wing of her brothers and sisters across the sea, where they laid waste to everything they found. Fire spun from their open jaws, burning all that had been built since the Great Fall. Houses crumbled to the ground; forests went as black as night; even the rock ran liquid, hissing where it hit the sea. They left nothing as they blazed up and down the coasts, burning and burning and burning, unstoppable.

  Until.

  A poison-tipped arrow slipped between the scales of the first dragon. She screamed at the stars as her flight faltered, though her wings pumped to gain height. Then more arrows found their marks in her brothers and sisters. Another polyphonic screech ripped from the first dragon. Fury. Shock. Grief.

  The dragons dove, death beating in their inferno hearts. Flame ravaged the earth beneath them, searing the archers’ names from history, and it was there—among the still-burning bones of their enemies—that the dragons collapsed to the ground and slept for a century. And then they, too, died, the first dragon last of all.

  THE GREAT ABANDONMENT could have been prevented.

  But it was not.

  PART ONE

  THE HARVEST OF HOPE

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE GOD SHADOW STRETCHED ACROSS THE SEA, CASTING the city into an early, unwelcome twilight.

  I shivered, unable to look away from the length of umbra that darkened everything, or the immense god hunched over on the horizon. Sunlight strained long and golden around his curled shoulders, his bent head, and his lean body—a nightly eclipse that caused a deep, anxious hush to settle across the city of Flamecrest.

  Gerel elbowed me. “Stop looking at the sun. It’s not good for your eyes.”

  “It doesn’t hurt my eyes anymore. Not since . . . you know.” I didn’t want to talk about the dragon rescue. Not here. We were perched on a roof with ten strangers, all of us hoping to see new ships arrive in the harbor below. This was hardly the best time. “Besides, the sun is hidden. That’s the problem.”

  “Try not to stand out. Once the ships arrive, we can go back to the hotel and you can be as odd as you want.”

  I sighed and looked back toward Flamecrest Port. No one could say what—or who—was on the ships rumored to arrive tonight, only that they brought hope. And with the god looming on the horizon, bent in contemplative silence, hope was the one thing everyone wanted.

  One god had risen. Abandoned his people. Killed most of them, too.

  Any island could be next.

  This one, maybe.

  “Do you think the others had any luck finding Nine?” I spoke softly, but Gerel still glanced around with a worried frown.

  Fair. Nine was a spy from the Algotti Empire, and it was dangerous to talk about them in public, but no one was paying attention to us. Rooftops and balconies were pa
cked with people trying to get a good view of the port, while the streets were even more crowded. Anticipation knotted through the crush below, with pale blue noorestones dotting the sea of dark faces and bright headscarves. Even with the god-shadowed hush, there was still enough ambient noise to obscure our conversation.

  “We’ll find out when we get back.” Gerel glanced north, toward the Fire Rose Hotel, where we were all staying. “I don’t like so many of us being out at once. Altan could easily overpower Chenda and Zara. And Aaru is in no state to help.”

  She said it without judgment, but just thinking about Aaru and his state was painful. He’d been physically present but emotionally absent ever since the earthquake.

  “Altan could have left after”—I lowered my voice—“the battle at the ruins. But he didn’t. He stayed with us.” Maybe he’d been compelled by honor, but more likely he still needed something from us. He’d wanted to help us free the dragons, but I didn’t imagine he’d genuinely changed since his attack on Crescent Prominence.

  “And he’s been useless ever since.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. While we’d been going out in pairs to search for Nine, we kept Altan locked in a closet. Partly because we weren’t sure what to do with him, and mostly because we needed information, which he refused to give. Like where he’d sent Tirta and Elbena, who’d betrayed me, or Kelsine, the Drakontos ignitus we’d befriended.

  “What do you think is going to happen when we find that spy—”

  “Nine,” I said.

  “Nine. Fine. Whatever. What do you think will happen when we find them, anyway?” Gerel asked.

  “We’ll ask a thousand questions.” To start with. I needed to know more about the Algotti Empire, but that need was impossible to explain to the others. At least right now. Ever since we’d destroyed the ruins above Flamecrest and set the dragons free, something had been different. My dreams—previously just dreams of flying—felt stranger. Older. More powerful.

  Gerel just shook her head. “I hope you’re making a list.”

  “Of course.”

  “It just doesn’t seem like enough. Listening to gossip. Looking for Nine. Keeping Altan locked in a closet. What are we doing here, besides waiting for the world to finish falling apart?”

  “Trying to find a way to put it back together.”

  “Unless you know something I don’t, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” She dropped her gaze to the noorestone in her hands. “Nothing better to do, though. I’d rather die doing something meaningful, but I’ll settle for staying busy.”

  I’d never heard Gerel so morbid. For a moment, I considered telling her about my dreams. The dragon. The moons passing before the sun. But as the god shadow settled deeper over the city, casting the twisted streets into a premature darkness, a child began to cry. Followed by another, and another.

  “I wish people would take their children inside before sundown.” Gerel fidgeted with the noorestone, making light bounce across her strong features. “How do you explain to them what happened? How do you tell them the world is ending, and there’s no way to fix it? Better to let them have some peace before the Great Abandonment takes them, too.”

  “Ignorance isn’t the answer.” I looked at Gerel askance; she was the last person I’d have expected to advocate for sheltering children, but maybe that was because she’d never been sheltered. “But I am glad it isn’t our job to explain what’s happening. It was hard enough telling Ilina’s mother.”

  Gerel gave a soft snort. “Seven gods, that was—”

  At her oath, we both went quiet, a beat of discomfort drifting between us.

  I pushed past it. “Even Zara took it better.” Perhaps that was unfair to my sister; she’d been uncharacteristically subdued these last five days. “I’m sure it won’t be long before her shock wears off and she starts demanding silk gowns to wear to the Great Abandonment.”

  “I wish we’d sent her on the Chance Encounter with Ilina’s mother.” Gerel sighed. “But I understand why you said no.”

  Mother had promised Zara that I’d protect her, and that was the last we’d seen of either of our parents. For all we knew, they were dead, killed when Altan’s warriors attacked Crescent Prominence and destroyed the council house. I might be the only person my sister had left.

  I dropped my gaze to the noorestone-lit harbor, where dockworkers bustled around piers to prepare for the arrival of these new ships. Aside from the workers and their supervisors, the port was empty. All the crowds had been pushed outside the gates, held back by fences and squads of soldiers in flame-blue uniforms. Even the berths were mostly vacant; every ship that wasn’t in need of repairs had left as soon as possible, weighed down with medical supplies, food, blankets, and cots—whatever could be spared. It seemed impossible that anyone could have survived the god of silence rising up from the sea, but people had to search. Just in case.

  “How long will we have to wait?” someone on the other side of the roof asked.

  No one answered; no one knew.

  Then.

  I felt it.

  Power called to me, and I answered.

  I climbed to my feet, careful on the smooth tiles, and strained my eyes to peer farther into the god-shadowed sea. The sunset sky burned like hot iron over the water, and to the south I could just see the barest scrapes of land: Damyan, perhaps—the god of love. It was from that direction I could feel . . . something.

  Noorestones.

  Not just any noorestones. There was something different about these, something I couldn’t quite identify. Then, what I’d thought was land in the distance grew; it wasn’t land at all, but ships coming closer. They carried noorestones. Loud noorestones.

  Most felt alike: they set a hum against my thoughts—making me aware of their presence without becoming intrusive.

  But these would not be ignored. They were powerful. Old. Slightly . . . wrong, like a note just out of tune, not quite reaching true dissonance. They drew my thoughts into a current of uncontrollable curiosity, dampening the sounds of the city and surf.

  I listed forward, the toe of one shoe thumping on the guardrail.

  “Mira.” Gerel’s whisper was sharp, like it wasn’t the first time she’d said my name. “What are you doing?”

  My heart thundered as I shook back into myself. I’d forgotten she was here; I’d forgotten anyone was here.

  “It’s the noorestones.” My fingers curled around the cool iron rail. “They’re on the ships, coming toward us.”

  As soon as the whisper left my lips, a shock of excitement traveled through the crowd. “There!” people cried, pointing toward the water, where ten enormous ships slipped into the god shadow. “Hope is on the way!”

  The ships were huge, bigger than any I’d ever seen, save the Star-Touched and the Great Mace. They were ocean-crossing vessels, powered by immense, unstable noorestones that had—in one case—interacted badly with a dragon, causing an explosion that had taken the Infinity four and a half years ago.

  But that wasn’t the truth. The imperial spy called Seven had told me the explosion of the Infinity was a test, a way to gauge the destructive potential of these giant noorestones.

  He’d also said the Anaheran government was behind it.

  “Do you think the noorestones are weapons?” Gerel’s question drew me back to now.

  I glanced around, praying no one had overheard her, but voices rippled all around us, teeming with cautious optimism. On rooftops and balconies, people had lifted themselves up to get a better look at the huge ships. They weren’t just unusual; they were shocking.

  Gerel tried again. “Do you think they plan to use the noorestones to hold cities hostage?”

  I shook my head. “I think, for now, the noorestones are being used to power the ships.”

  She frowned. “Doesn’t this class usually require three noorestones?”

  “Usually.” I bit my lip, listening to the excitement build around us; the promised hope was almost here. �
�I think these will be slower than the Star-Touched or the Great Mace, but they’ll be able to outpace any other ship in any Fallen Isles fleet.”

  Her frown deepened. “I wonder how they’ll match up against the black ships.”

  “If we ever find Nine, we can ask them to race.” Right after we found out what they knew about Anahera’s role in the Mira Treaty. Seven had given us what information he possessed, but Nine had been working in Anahera for months.

  A short, barked laugh escaped her. “I’m sure that’s what spies do in their free time.”

  “Without a doubt.” My smile faded as I watched the ships come closer. “Remember when we first saw Seven’s ship?”

  “I remember.” She crossed her arms over her chest as a sea breeze lifted from the water. “Chenda said she thought Anahera was building a new fleet. This is it.”

  “That seems like a fair guess.” These were almost identical to the design of our other ocean-crossing vessels, made from wood, rather than metal like the imperial ship. “I suppose,” I murmured, “my question is why? Why build a fleet of ships this big? What use could anyone have of ships capable of crossing the ocean? There’s nowhere else to go.”

  “There is the Algotti Empire.” Gerel’s tone was low, frightened, almost. “What if, on top of everything else, Anahera wants to take us to war against the Algotti Empire?”

  Dread deepened inside of me. “Why?”

  “There’s a lot about Anahera that doesn’t make sense.” She kept her voice soft so that the Anaherans around us wouldn’t overhear. None of this was the people’s fault, I kept reminding myself. We all had corrupt governments. We’d all been betrayed by the people sworn to protect us. This was just . . . so big.

  I let my eyes travel across the city, to the Red Hall. Like most of Flamecrest, the capitol building was made from red sandstone, its upper walls adorned with polished rubies that shone like fire during the day.

  That was where High Magistrate Paorah lived. Where he ruled. I’d been to the Red Hall during both of my previous visits to Anahera, and while my movements had been carefully monitored, I knew that much of the building was private, sectioned off not only for the high magistrate and his family, but for other purposes as well. Darker purposes, some claimed.