by Jodi Meadows
My heart sank, but I didn’t have time to worry any more, because a young man at the door announced Apolla, and she strode down the aisle, straight-backed and severe in her movements. Of course, she wore white and gold, with a long cape, a perfect and elegant contrast to her court.
As she went by, I caught the way courtiers’ eyes shifted to the gallery below ours, twisted with outright frowns and offended glances.
“Who’s down there?” I glanced at Aaru.
His quiet code was soft, quick against my knuckles. ::Islanders.::
The court hushed as Apolla reached her throne and turned to face everyone. She didn’t speak, but it wasn’t necessary. Everyone—the finely dressed courtiers, the guards, the servants—bowed low and murmured, “Your Eminence.”
No one from my gallery bowed.
Rain droned against the walls of the palace, and thunder vibrated through the floor. Aaru squeezed my hand, and I wondered if storms would always remind him of Idris.
Apolla gazed around the room, pausing only a moment on the seven of us up here, not bowing, not showing submission. If she was surprised, or annoyed, she hid it behind her mask of cool superiority. “You may rise.” Her voice came low and deep, more like the empress I’d first met, less like the young woman who’d revealed her love of dragons.
The people straightened.
“People of the Algotti Empire.” Her voice carried through the throne room; a few members of her court listed forward, as though to catch every syllable, every nuance in her tone. Maybe they didn’t worship her as a goddess, but they did worship her. That much was clear. She went on: “Recently, we welcomed guests from the Fallen Isles. Some of you may know already that their world is in trouble. Their gods are pulling themselves out of the sea. Several representatives from the islands have come to us for aid. The first was High Magistrate Paorah, of Anahera. After I agreed to help him, he had our city attacked.
“But we had another visitor, one who promised to help thwart the high magistrate’s assault. While she was not successful in preventing the attack, she did help mitigate the damage and death toll. However, helping us—and seeking help for her people—was not the only reason she came here. That, I hope, will be revealed today.” Apolla looked up at me. “Please, if you will join me.”
::Hate cannot dwell where many stand in love,:: Aaru tapped.
I squeezed his hand and then followed a guard down the gallery stairs, which deposited me toward the main doors of the throne room.
Clad in the blue and silver gown chosen for me, I made my way up the aisle, toward the throne and the empress. I kept my gaze straight ahead—on the bones of the first dragon—but I heard the whispers as I walked past the imperial court on one side, and dignitaries from the Fallen Isles on the other.
“Mira,” someone breathed. The voice sounded like the First Matriarch of Harta. “Seven gods. She’s alive.”
“Did you see that scar? How do you think she got that?”
“Oh, seven gods,” Dara Soun murmured. “I saw her during the new year. She didn’t have that.”
“Has she been here since then? Did the empress kidnap her?”
“Who was that other girl? The one with Elbena?” asked another.
My heart twisted for Tirta, caught up in this horrible conspiracy because she looked enough like me to fool people, and then killed for it. Killed because she dared to dream a better life for herself. And none of them even knew her name.
I lifted my chin and set my eyes, following the graceful lines of the first dragon. The arc of her wings. The length of her spine. The shape of her skull. If only I could get her back to the Fallen Isles—to her home—we stood a chance of saving what remained.
When I reached Apolla, who stood before her throne, I halted.
She motioned me to stand beside her, as though we were together in this announcement she planned to make, and for a moment I felt sick—a sharp twist of disgust in my stomach. Here I was in imperial dress, standing beside the Algotti empress, with nothing to show for my position. I wished LaLa hadn’t flown off. I wished I had my dragon on my shoulder.
I did have the first dragon behind me, but only a few knew what she meant.
“Before you,” said the empress, “stands Mira Minkoba. Hopebearer. Dragonhearted. She is not dead, as some of you believed.”
Muttering filled the gallery where the islanders stood.
Apolla turned to me and said softly, “Mira, I’d like to give you an opportunity to speak to your people—to tell them your truth.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”
Her expression didn’t change—not here, in front of all these people—but I sensed a thoughtfulness in her, a hint of the gentleness she sometimes displayed. “We are not friends, as you’ve said, but I cannot help but see myself in you sometimes. Were we in each other’s positions, I’d appreciate the opportunity to speak truth to those who have so long been denied it.”
For a moment, I’d thought she meant she wanted me to tell my side of the dragon story first, so that she could contradict me, ridicule me in front of everyone. But that wasn’t it: she meant my larger truth, the one I’d been living with for months.
In her way, she was doing me a kindness. Before she made whatever announcement she’d brought everyone here to make—one we both knew I wouldn’t like—she wanted to offer this last acknowledgment of the alliance we could have had.
I wished she’d believed me about the dragons.
With a long, steadying breath, I faced the people of the Fallen Isles. Twenty-three of them—Ilina’s father, Dara Soun, Eka Delro, and other leaders included—stared at me, waiting.
Maybe this was as strange for them as it was for me. Whatever words came out of my mouth next, they would be my words, not theirs. A Hopebearer without a script must have been terrifying for them.
I’d have smiled if I wasn’t so terrified myself.
While I looked over the islanders, noting who stood next to whom, and which people had cuffs around their wrists, I put my thoughts together before committing them to sound. Time was precious now, and I needed to make every word matter.
These were the people who’d forged me, who’d hurt and used me, and who’d denied me the freedom to make my own choices.
It was time to offer them a choice.
“Thank you,” I said after a moment. I knew this part: the waiting, the working myself up to speaking, and the weight of expectation that clung to my words. “Although the Mira Treaty was named after me, I think it’s fair to say that the treaty shaped the course of my life. For seventeen years, I believed in the treaty—the intentions behind those compassionate words, the hope for the future, and the promise that my generation would inherit a better world. That faith was never shaken until the day I was imprisoned for trying to uphold the ideals set forth in the treaty.” Everyone in the room went quiet, some with confusion, some with knowing. “Allow me to explain.
“In addition to uniting the Fallen Isles and ensuring equality among our people, the treaty was meant to protect dragons, the children of our gods. But when I found evidence of corruption—someone sending dragons where they didn’t belong—I was imprisoned in the Pit. Tortured. Made to see others tortured.” I glanced up at Aaru, heart twisting inside my chest. “It was there, in the Pit, I first began to untangle the truths of the Mira Treaty.
“First, I was told the treaty sold the Fallen Isles to the Algotti Empire; my father, the architect of the treaty, confirmed this. But that was merely another layer of an even more complex lie. The truth is that the Mira Treaty bent all the Fallen Isles to one island: Anahera.
“Years before High Magistrate Paorah was elected to his office, he worked to bring the Mira Treaty to life, even as he claimed to oppose it. He did this to lend him credit for the day he declared the treaty useless—and then slaughtered the girl who was pretending to be me.”
In the gallery where the islanders stood, a few people shifted with discomfort. Many of them had witnesse
d that murder.
“High Magistrate Paorah manipulated everyone, without caring that it would damn hundreds of thousands of people once he got what he wanted: dragons, noorestones, ships, and desperation. That is how you all”—I gestured to the Fallen Isles gallery—“and those aboard our ships ended up here, attacking the very people who wanted to help us.
“Everyone who signed the Mira Treaty in the belief that it was the only way to avoid a long, bloody war—they were all betrayed. And in turn, they betrayed the rest of us. By accepting a lie. By creating a new lie. By not standing up for what was right when they had the chance.”
Eka and Dara glanced at each other.
“We are all given a voice,” I said. “Some naturally louder and stronger than others, some artificially given more weight. Like mine. You gave me this voice. You tried to deny it when I used it as I saw fit. But here I am. Alive. Speaking. I hope you’re listening at last.”
Uncertain quiet followed, and then Empress Apolla looked at me thoughtfully. “Is that all you want to say?”
“That is what they need to hear.” Behind me, the first dragon’s power thrummed and rolled through me, rattling my bones and lending me courage. I wanted, as I had before, to touch her, but now was not the time. Not yet.
Soon.
“Very well.” There was a look in Apolla’s eyes, a mix of admiration and disappointment, but she just turned to the court. “The Algotti Empire has offered aid to the Fallen Isles in their time of need. Ten ships have been dispatched to rescue survivors of the Great Abandonment. Originally, we intended to bring the survivors here, temporarily. However, after recent events, I’ve come to a firm decision on how I will handle the refugees.”
The low boom of thunder was the only sound.
“Though it pains me, I must turn away the refugees of the Fallen Isles.”
A few people gasped, and someone let out a choked sob.
She turned to address those in the lower gallery. “I will restock your ships with food and drinkable water, enough to last for months, if necessary. The ships I sent in advance will continue to work until they’re no longer needed. But I’m afraid this will be the extent of the Algotti Empire’s influence in Fallen Isles affairs.” She smiled, as though to say we’d done this to ourselves. Which we had. “Tonight, you will be sent back to the Fallen Isles to determine your own fates.”
“What?” Eka was outraged. “How could you be so callous? We came to you for help.”
“You came at High Magistrate Paorah’s behest and attacked my city. Three thousand people are dead because you came here, and I must value the lives of my own people above the lives of yours.”
Sadness filled me. I understood why she felt that way, but The Book of Love urged us to help one another, to ensure our neighbors were cared for and welcome into our homes if needed.
It was just another reminder that she was not from the Fallen Isles, let alone Damina, and she had likely never read The Book of Love. Or, if she had, she thought it encouraged weakness.
“This was not an easy decision to reach,” Apolla said, that same grave tone in her voice. “But I have considered all I’ve given to the Fallen Isles already—my finest apartments, clothes, magic, ships, everything you’ve asked for and more. I wanted only one thing in exchange. One thing. And I was betrayed.”
I hesitated, only a moment. Confrontation rarely worked well for me, and confrontation with an audience—it was nearly unthinkable. But I gathered up my strength and spoke as the Dragonhearted. “I did not betray you. I did exactly as you asked, Apolla.”
Someone gasped at my use of her given name.
“You wanted me to heal the dragons,” I said. “Those dragons never should have been sent away from the Fallen Isles, but Paorah used the authorization he gave himself via the Mira Treaty and did what he wanted, heedless of the fact that his actions would hasten the Great Abandonment.
“The dragons were dying, thanks to being kept in captivity, but I lifted them out of death. I poured Noore’s own fire into them and gave them new life. You saw that.” The bones behind me rumbled—or maybe that was the thunder.
Her eyes narrowed. “And then, when they began to scream, you told them to leave.”
“One of our gods is rising!” My shout rang across the throne room. Stunned silence rang in response. “Khulan is rising. The dragons would have burned everyone in that park if I hadn’t told them to go. They were distressed. Frightened. Grieving. Because right now, Khulan is pulling himself out of the ocean, throwing off tens of thousands of innocent people. Right now, a way of life is ripping apart, and irreplaceable artifacts are being crushed under buildings and mountains.”
In their gallery, the islanders gasped and whispered, and the warriors there stepped to the rear of the crowd to hide their emotions.
“Yet,” Apolla said, “it is not my problem anymore. I want everyone to go. Now. Before I change my mind and have my ships called home. Leave the Algotti Empire and do not return; there will be no safe harbor for you here.” She swept her hand toward the great doors.
“You’d condemn hundreds of thousands of people to death.” I made my voice softer. “That’s what you’re doing, Apolla. You know that, don’t you?”
“I did not become the Algotti empress by acts of charity, Hopebearer. You know this.” We glared at each other for a moment longer. “I’ve given you ten ships. And I’m giving you the lives of these people—some who were complicit in the attack on my city—and rations to feed them during the long journey home.”
“Where they will die.”
“Where they will no longer be my problem.” She just shook her head. “This is the height of my generosity. There is no more after this.”
At last, I bowed my head. We’d gotten ships. Our people. Our lives. “All right,” I said. “We will go.”
“Everyone but you.” Apolla’s voice was low, but the room was quiet—save the droning rain—so everyone heard. The reactions were immediate:
“No!”
“You can’t have her!”
“This is outrageous!”
The noise erupted throughout the throne room, and all I could do was stand there in shocked silence.
Chaos broke out above, as Gerel and Hristo pushed their way down the stairs to the main floor, the others following in their wake. Guards rushed in to stop them, but Gerel was stronger than fifteen of them put together, and Hristo would never let anyone come between him and me. Together, they shoved a path for the others to follow, and then they were all marching up the aisle.
Even Eka, Dara, and some of the other government officials had broken free of their assigned area.
But the empress’s guards were fast. They stepped in front of us, creating a human wall as they drew their swords.
Gerel and Hristo stopped short; neither was armed.
“Why?” My voice cut through the cacophony of protests.
Empress Apolla frowned at me. “You are far too valuable,” she said. “I’ve seen what you can do. Besides, your people will not harm my city while you’re here. The substance that affected your giant noorestones has been removed from your ships and destroyed, and the catapult that launched that noorestone has been appropriated for alternative use. Their removal made room for more food rations. I’m sure everyone agrees they’d rather have food than weapons.”
“Then you’ve crippled our ships. They were only able to cross the sea because of the substance. It will take decans to return without it.” And we had mere days before the last gods rose.
Apolla smiled grimly. “Then they’d better leave now.”
My heart twisted. “Please reconsider.”
“I’ve already considered. Everyone from the Fallen Isles—except you—will leave immediately. The ships are being prepared as we speak.”
“Release Mira.” Hristo stepped forward.
“No.” Apolla sighed. “If you don’t go, then I’ll deem you subjects of the empire. You’ll certainly be welcome to stay here
, if that’s the case, but you’ll also be arrested and placed in prison for your attack on my person.”
Gerel glanced at Hristo, to see whether he planned to rush through the guards and grab me, I supposed. And beyond them, I caught Ilina’s worried gaze, and Zara hugging herself as she looked on, and Chenda making her shadow flutter beneath the guards—like she might be able to use it to help free me.
And then there was Aaru, dark-eyed and worried, but he kept himself pulled up tall as our gazes locked. ::What do you want?:: he tapped.
They would fight for me, I knew it. And they would lose.
A deep hum set in my soul, drawing me toward the first dragon. I needed to go to her. I needed to touch her. I needed to—
No. First I needed to defuse this situation. My heart pounded, but I made myself speak the word: “Go.”
“What?” Chenda’s mouth dropped open.
“You can’t be serious.” Zara stepped toward me, but the guards blocked her way. “Mira, you’re coming with us.”
“No,” I said. “You need to go. Find another island to settle on for now. Search for a new home.”
Ilina shook her head. “We’ll never make it home in time to save anyone. And what about—” Her eyes flickered to the bones of the first dragon behind me.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said. “I’m sorry. This is the only way.”
Zara stared at me, confusion in her eyes, and for a moment, we shared the sort of sisterly connection I’d always wished for us to have. Our relationship had changed so much in the last few decans, and now that we could almost acknowledge liking each other, the empress wanted to force us apart.
I looked at Apolla. “Please allow me to say good-bye to my friends. My sister, at least.”
The empress considered; I saw the way she weighed the outcomes, the chances of me somehow betraying her, and how she’d appear to her court. At last, she shook her head. “You’ve already wasted your time. The tide will go out soon, and if they aren’t gone by nightfall, everyone here will be my prisoner.”