When She Reigns

by Jodi Meadows

  “Perhaps someone’s soul casts the shadow of a dragon.” Ilina glanced at me, something between worry and awe in her eyes. “When you were telling us about your dreams, you said when you looked down, your shadow was the shape of a dragon.”

  Slowly, everyone else looked at me, too.

  “You have this connection with dragons,” Ilina went on. “I used to be jealous of it, but then I saw what it did to you when we found the dragons in the ruins. That cured that.” She offered a tight smile, as though needing forgiveness for her feelings.

  “I’d have been jealous if it had been you.” My voice was hoarse. “I was already plenty jealous that you got to spend so much time with dragons.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a little.

  “So”—Zara spoke slowly—“does this mean the passage is talking about Mira? Is it saying that Mira has a dragon soul?”

  A dragon soul.

  Foreboding weighed over the group as we all turned back to the books, but just then, Nine came in, clad in the same type of loose cotton clothes everyone else aboard the skimmer den wore.

  “Have you prepared your statement for Empress Apolla?” she asked.

  My heart was still pounding from the words I’d just read, but I’d had a lifetime of speaking around my anxiety. I managed to keep my voice level as I said, “Of course. We want safe harbor. We want ships to rescue our people. In exchange, I will help her with the problem of the high magistrate.”

  She frowned, like she didn’t really believe that would be enough for her empress. “You want to take over the deal she and he made.”

  “Yes.” Because I couldn’t tell her that I wanted to scour the empire for dragon bones.

  “All right.” She nodded at the piles of books on our table, all the histories and holy words, and the pages and pages of poetry. “Have you learned anything interesting?”

  Only this:

  I knew how to save the Fallen Isles.

  Because endings made way for beginnings.

  And sacrifices enabled that change.

  I’d been dreaming of the first dragon, because I was the last. And when I found her bones and took her home, I would entreat the gods on behalf of the humans. I would take her place. My shadow soul—my dragon soul—would reign.

  But I’d have to sacrifice something dear. For my dragon self to complete its ascension, I’d have to leave my human self behind.

  PART FOUR

  LOVE SURVIVES DEATH

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  EVERY MORNING FOR THE NEXT THREE DAYS, WE returned to the library and searched the books of our gods, as well as the histories of the Algotti Empire, but we discovered nothing new.

  At least, they didn’t. The more I read, the more I was convinced that the sacrifice described would save the Fallen Isles, but I didn’t tell them. I couldn’t.

  Guilt needled me whenever we came back to those passages, and the truth almost spilled out a few times, but I knew how that conversation would go. Hristo and Ilina would drag me into the ocean and swim me back to the Fallen Isles themselves if it meant they didn’t lose the human part of me. They would prevent me from finding the bones of the first dragon and entreating the gods, because they’d rather have me as me than have the rest of our world.

  Ours was a powerful love, built over time and trials, and I had no doubts that they’d try to save me above anything else, because I would do the same for them.

  And then there was Gerel, who’d say I made the worst plans, and Chenda, who’d quietly agree, and Zara, who couldn’t lose more family than she already had, and Aaru . . .

  Aaru, who slept across the small cabin from me every night, who reached for my hand and held on like he needed me, who talked with me until we both mumbled and lost track of our thoughts and fell asleep. I’d promised he wouldn’t be alone. I hadn’t meant to break that promise so soon.

  So I made it my secret, and hated myself for keeping it, but if this was the only way to ensure the Fallen Gods remained on Noore—

  I started looking for alternatives. Other interpretations. And in the back of my mind, I prepared to keep track of my lasts, because by the final day of our journey east, I’d found nothing else that would save the Fallen Isles.

  My dragon soul would consume all the human parts of me, giving everyone else—even the people who’d hurt us—a new chance to live. I’d always wanted to be a dragon, hadn’t I? And come the eclipse, I’d get that wish, but now I had so many reasons to want to stay human.

  It seemed vastly unfair.

  “WHAT ARE YOU thinking?”

  It was the night before we were supposed to reach the empire, and I wasn’t doing a good job hiding my fear. Not from Aaru. And not from LaLa, though she tried to reassure me by showing me how fun it was to be a dragon. She kept bringing me her noorestone—the other was in Ilina’s room with Crystal—and various other toys.

  “It’s time to go to sleep, little lizard.” I handed the noorestone back to her. “Put this in your basket and get ready for bed.”

  She gave me an annoyed chitter, but clutched the noorestone between her teeth and flapped into her basket again. Rustling sounded as I tapped off all but one of the light sigils and climbed into my bed, facing Aaru. He faced me, too. The shadows were deep and cool, jumping as though a candle flickered on the far side of the room. Aaru looked soft. Sweet. Worried.

  “You seem preoccupied,” he said. “Are you afraid about what will happen tomorrow?”

  A shiver crept through me. “A little.” A lot. In just a few hours, we’d disembark the skimmer den, and step foot on imperial land. On the mainland. That alone would have been terrifying enough. But for me, it meant another move toward the sacrifice.

  If we could find the dragon bones.

  “I never imagined leaving the Fallen Isles,” I said, because I needed to say something. “I never imagined being so far from home.”

  Aaru made a soft noise of understanding.

  “Are you afraid?” I asked.

  “Yes.” No hesitation. No shame. He just admitted it. “But I never thought I’d leave Idris, and when I did, I survived.”

  In more ways than one.

  “We’ll come through this,” he murmured. “You’ll persuade the empress to give us ships and safe harbor. You’ll persuade her to let us find the bones of the first dragon. We’ll save the Fallen Isles, and everything will be right again.”

  I wished I could agree with him. “Do you really believe we have a chance? It’s such a short amount of time.”

  He smiled softly. “I believe in you.”

  There was no adequate reply—nothing gracious or witty enough—to accept or deflect such a soul-warming statement. And heartbreaking. Even if we saved the Fallen Isles, I wouldn’t be there to experience it with him. Not in the same way as I was now.

  “It’s all right if you don’t believe in yourself yet.” Aaru sat up in bed, the blankets sliding down his side. “It’s harder to believe in yourself than it is to believe in others. But you have a lot of people putting faith in you. Ilina and Hristo would die for you. Gerel and Chenda both think you’re worthy of following. Even your sister looks up to you in a way she didn’t before.”

  “She’s just doing what Mother told her.”

  “No.” Aaru shook his head. “She respects you. I think she finally understands you now.”

  I swallowed hard. “I wish it hadn’t taken the end of the world for my sister to decide to put up with me.”

  A small, quiet laugh came from him, and his fingertips drummed against his knee. “You should have seen the way my sisters fought. They loved one another, of course, but some nights they would beat on the tables in quiet code—yelling—until Mother came in and gave them a look. Once, I saw them blinking quiet code at each other. Hard, angry blinking so they didn’t get in trouble for yelling. I almost—”

  His smile fell into a broken sob.

  I pushed up and crossed the floor to sit beside him.

  “It feels like
waves.” His voice was low, rough. “One moment, I feel peaceful. Happy. And then I remember something small, like the way my sisters argued, or how Father helped me pin curtains over the basement windows so I could sleep during the day. And then I’m caught. It sucks me in and it hurts to breathe. I miss them.”

  I leaned my cheek on his shoulder and slipped his hands in with mine. His were warm and trembling. “‘Love survives death.’”

  “The Book of Love?” he asked.

  I nodded. “It means that nothing—not even death—can hinder love. Your souls are tied together, so that even in death, your family can feel the way you love them. It means you can feel their love, too. Can’t you feel it?”

  Aaru stilled. Closed his eyes. Breathed. His head tilted the way it did when he was listening for something almost impossible to hear.

  One heartbeat. Two. Three.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “I feel it.”

  “Good.” I wiped the tear trails off his cheeks; stubble scraped my fingers, sending a shiver through me. “You’re not alone,” I reminded him, pushing down the guilt of my own inevitable abandonment. I told myself he had other people who cared about him, too. “Not if you don’t want to be.”

  He twisted and rested his forehead against mine. “I don’t want to be.”

  A question pulsed between us. Soft. Hopeful. Hesitant. That kiss in the alley remained in my memory, a fire that wouldn’t stop burning. I wanted to talk to him about it, to ask if he wanted to kiss like that again. But other than a few gentle touches and one soft kiss good night, there’d been nothing.

  Then the moment passed, because neither of us was brave enough to give the question voice. Not when everything felt weighed down with expectations and unreadiness. Instead, I said, “You’ve been speaking aloud a lot more.”

  He pulled back, brow wrinkling. “Have I?”

  I let out a soft breath of a laugh. A couple of decans ago, he wouldn’t have even asked that in quiet code. He’d have let his expression—or lack of one, rather—do all the communication.

  “Is it funny?” He took my hand again. ::Is it wrong?::

  Another laugh bubbled up, and I tapped against his palm. ::I like it. You have a nice voice.::

  He ducked his face. “It’s just like any other.”

  “No.” I leaned close again, until I could feel his breath against my lips. “It’s special. It’s yours.”

  His mouth curled into the sweetest smile, and I couldn’t help myself anymore. I kissed him.

  It was just soft. Brief. But he gasped, and then gently his arms slipped around my body, while I braced myself against the bed with one hand and let the other explore the lines of his neck and shoulder and ribs.

  “Mira,” he whispered against my lips.

  “Yes.”

  He smiled. “You didn’t even let me ask the question.”

  “Ask, then. But the answer will be yes.”

  He touched my cheek. “Do you want to share tonight? Bed, I mean. Not to— Not for anything except sleeping. But I want to be close to you. If that’s all right.”

  My heart squeezed up at his nervousness, his sweetness. “We’ll have to be really close. These beds are tiny.”

  “If it’s too much—”

  “But my answer is still yes.”

  Tension flowed out of his shoulders, and then wound back up again as though reality had just caught up with him. We’d be squeezed together all night—or what there was left of the night.

  I was about to offer to let him take the question back, but he reached across the space and grabbed my pillow and settled it beside his. Then, carefully, we scooted next to each other and turned onto our sides, his chest to my back. His breath came rapid against my temple as he slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me tight against him.

  “You’re warm,” he whispered.

  “It’s about to get warmer,” I said, listening to the rustling that came from LaLa’s basket. Then her head popped out and she peered at us, eyes wide. “Get the light first, lizard.”

  She chirruped and flew to the last light sigil, bumped it with her nose, and came to settle in the curve of my shoulder and neck, careful of her sharp scales against my skin.

  “Two of my favorite people,” Aaru whispered.

  My heart swelled, and I smiled, but I couldn’t sleep. I was too aware of the way he felt behind me, the cadence of his breathing, and the gentle way he rested his hand on my hip. He wasn’t sleeping, either, and I wished I knew what he was thinking. Not about anything like that day in the rain; that would have been evident.

  But neither of us spoke, both of us hoping the other would be able to fall asleep before dawn. And now that we weren’t talking anymore, my mind shifted back to my short future as a human, and my long future as a dragon.

  LaLa nuzzled my cheek, in comfort, but also as a reminder. When I became a dragon, we’d be together forever, and that would be good, wouldn’t it?

  It would be.

  Months ago, before all of this started, I’d been right: I was born for being with dragons.

  Several minutes or an hour later, a horn blasted somewhere on the upper decks of the ship, and footfalls crashed through the corridors outside our room.

  “Is it morning already?” My voice felt raw with exhaustion. “I wish we had a window.” Like everyone who lived deep inside the ship, we had to go by the complex system of horns and bells to tell the time. This one didn’t sound like the morning combination, but I had only a few days of pattern to draw from.

  “No.” Aaru sat up and scooped a sleeping LaLa off me so I could move. With one hand, he curled her against his chest, and then tapped the nearest light sigil with the other. The flickering orange glow touched his face and the soft way he gazed down at LaLa.

  I sat up and turned toward him, knees bumping knees on the narrow bed. “What was it?”

  “I can hear—” He shook his head. “I’m not sure. This ship is so loud. It’s muddled.”

  Another blast sounded, and he winced.

  “We’ve arrived.” He looked up at me. “We’re in the Algotti Empire now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  STRANGE AS IT WAS, I HADN’T CONSIDERED WHAT MY first glimpse of the Algotti Empire would look like. Part of me had thought we’d simply appear in the empress’s throne room—or wherever she received people—and then . . . and then I didn’t know. The empress, for all that Nine loved to talk about how grand and impressive she was, remained a shadowy mystery. Altan had believed her people worshiped her, as they might a god, and the imperial subjects we’d met so far had done nothing to challenge that.

  When Nine fetched us and said it was time to get our first look at the empire, I thought we’d probably see a port, same as arriving at any other city, with bustling docks and yelling and seagulls stealing food. But either the empire had very different ports than we did, or Nine had made special arrangements.

  With LaLa and Crystal on their leashes, we were escorted to a viewing deck—three levels above the main deck, railed in tight to keep anyone from falling. It was close with the seven of us, plus Nine, plus the three guards, but there wasn’t much in the way of frivolous space on any ship, not even one this big. From here, we could see the vast swath of the main deck, the layers of the other upper decks, and all ten of the great masts as the crew worked to furl the sails and let the harbor boats tug the skimmer den in.

  That was when I saw them.

  Dragons.

  A pair of immense obsidian Drakontos titanus statues bracketed the mouth of a river ahead, their wings arched back and their talons raised up. Sunlight gleamed in the black depths, beautiful and deadly. They were even bigger than real titanuses, at least by half again.

  “Welcome to the city of Sunder.” Nine stretched one arm out before us, and pride shone bright on her face.

  “Seven gods.” Ilina dropped her head back as we began to pass between the dragons. Crystal and LaLa agreed, flapping their wings and letting out spurts of
fire. “They’re magnificent.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like them.” I couldn’t help the awe in my tone, or the way my chest tightened at the sight of those carved dragons. It was masterful work, making my soul crave the Fallen Isles. I hoped Hush and all the dragons she’d helped free were still safe.

  Beyond the twin titanuses, pale buildings rose on either side of the wide river, with immaculate lawns that ran down to retaining walls just ahead of the sandy banks.

  Wait, no. There were multiple buildings on the western bank of the river—separated by small yards—but the eastern side held a single, long building that moved upward along with the land. White marble, swirled with pink and blue and flecks of gold, dominated this face, with elegant columns and patios that shaded small clusters of people in colorful dress. Dozens—hundreds—of windows winked in the midmorning sun.

  “What is that building?” I asked as numbers ticked in the back of my head: windows, people, buildings. There was too much to keep track of.

  “The imperial palace,” Nine said. “The main entrance is on the other side, but we wanted to get you here quickly, with as little fuss getting through the city as possible.”

  I’d have liked to see the rest of the city, but perhaps she was right. We were all tired and rough from travel, and I didn’t want to embarrass the Fallen Isles by coming through looking so wrung out.

  Then again, this arrival felt like all the times I’d traveled as the Hopebearer, my escorts ensuring I saw only the parts of cities they wanted me to see: the wealthy districts, the acceptable masses, and the poor only from a distance, and only when someone was actually helping them. Prosperity like this usually masked hardship for others.

  “This is the River Akron; it runs from the Sunken Mountains, far to the north. It’s the main artery of the Sundered Lands, this province. There are hundreds of cities growing along the river and its tributaries.”