Dragon Master (Dragon Collector Book 2)

by Simon Archer

  As if in direct response to our question, the trumpets sounded to signal the start of the dinner. We took our seats, with me on Rebekah’s right, and Alona across from us. She had invited one of the evening caretakers as her guest, considering she was still filling in as Lead Caretaker.

  Per tradition, the inductees would enter the room as announced by the king. King Atlus stood at the head of the table while the rest of us remained seated. He wore a dark black tunic with a deep violet cloak wrapped across the top of his shoulders. Adorned on his head was a gold crown, intricately crafted to resemble lace. It had three large points in the front and then smaller ones wrapped around the rest of his head.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen of the court,” King Atlus announced, his voice booming throughout the hall, “It is my honor to welcome you to this annual introduction dinner. As many of you know and remember from your own introductions, this evening is a step for our young nobles to becoming full members of court.”

  I never understood why the king had to give this talk because we all knew the routine. Everyone in this room, save for Alona and I, had gone through it. It was a waste of time to remind us all. Nevertheless, the king continued.

  “In between courses, this evening, each of the inductees will display a skill or talent of theirs that is unrelated to their gift. The most impressive of these skills will move on to the final task of the introduction, the Ball, which, as many of you know, is one of my favorite days of the year.”

  There were some enthusiastic cheers, accompanied by a smattering of polite applause.

  “Please feel free to converse and question these young inductees,” King Atlus said. “Part of their test this evening is the knowledge of Insomier history and procedure. Now, without further ado, I present to you, our inductees.”

  The heavy oak doors down at the end of the hall opened ceremoniously. Standing at the front of the doors was a burly young man with a petite woman on his arm.

  “Eamon Alabasterous, son of Keely and Kelsey Alabasterous. He is accompanied by Saccharo Alabasterous, daughter of Keely and Kelsey Alabasterous.”

  Eamon and his presumed sister sat down in their seats next to the Minister of Finance and her husband.

  The entrances continued rather typically, with Razia inviting the guard Travis who she had been sweet on for a while now and Emerald bringing a cousin on her mother’s side, consequently not related to the king. Then Maria was announced.

  “Maria Poulis, daughter of Raina and Helena Poulis. She is accompanied by Bailey-Sue Vyer, daughter of Millie-May Vyer.”

  The whispers erupted like a thunderstorm. It was a mixture of astonishment at Maria bringing a commoner to the dinner, and the fact that Bailey-Sue’s announcement only included one parent’s name. It was not uncommon in the cities and outer towns for this to happen. However, in court, the sheer idea of not having two lineages was scandalous.

  Regardless of the chatter, Maria and Bailey-Sue walked in together, hand in hand. They shared a quick glance and proceeded to their seats by Maria’s parents.

  I shot Alona a quick glance, asking silently if she knew. Alona, once again, shook her head. The murmurs continued, and King Atlus had to quiet the crowd by holding up his hands as only a royal could do. It took a couple of seconds longer than desired to reach complete silence, but once it did, the king cleared his throat.

  “Finally, we have Martin Mark Anthony, son of James and Nina Anthony. He is accompanied by Maji Dyers, daughter of Styu and Vanna Dyers.”

  Unintentionally, my face broke into the largest smile at the sight of Martin and Maji standing in the doorway. Both of them looked beautiful in their own right, and despite their nervous smiles, they held themselves like a king and queen.

  They looked like kings and queens too. It was obvious that Raiyna had given them the full treatment. Maji wore a pink paisley gown that flared out around her sleeves. It was accented with a light dust of gold that complimented the metal leaves woven into her black hair.

  Martin complimented the child with a darker pink dress shirt that fit him perfectly. He wore a white vest over the shirt, with gleaming purple buttons that I knew were a symbol of his merkin Ffamran. His pants were the same white as the vest, with his dress shoes keeping the dark pink color. His blond hair was combed back, drawing more attention to his eyes and face.

  Alona stifled a laugh with the back of her hand. We had both been so curious about who Martin had invited. Instead, he made the perfect choice. He gave a young common girl the chance of a lifetime, by dressing up and coming to one of the most special nights in court.

  Maji was not missing a single moment of this magical evening. Her smile was big and bright, with two holes from where recent baby teeth had fallen out. Her gaze zipped about the room, excitedly taking in the ceiling, the clothes, the set-up of the table, and so much more.

  Whereas the rumors and gossip swirled like a tornado when Maria and Bailey-Sue entered, there was only stunned silence when Maji and Martin took their places at the end of the table. Maji’s chair squealed loudly, echoing across the chamber as all eyes stared at this young common girl sitting at their table.

  I reminded myself to tell Martin that he was brilliant. That was, if he and I ever started speaking again.

  “Welcome one and all,” King Atlus said. He seemed unphased by the discord and tradition-breaking. If anything, I could have sworn I saw an amused twinkle in the king’s eye that I had never seen before. “It is my pleasure to begin this dinner. Chef, let us have our first course.”

  As such, the dinner began. I wanted more than anything to be sitting near Martin, so I could compliment him, joke with him, and bask in his presence. I knew I had pushed him away, for what I convinced myself was his own good, but that did not take away the ache of missing him.

  Every time I glanced down his way, he seemed to be enjoying himself. His end of the table giggled and chatted away. They looked to be on their own island, disconnected from the rest of the table. Maji captivated them, and I knew that she had won them all over with her cute smile and old soul.

  Every so often, I managed to catch Alona’s eye from across the table. She seemed to be watching Martin as much as I was. Twice when I caught her glancing down his way, she abruptly looked back at her plate or turned to her colleague to speak to them.

  If I did not know any better, I would think that Alona had feelings for Martin. I knew this already, even if Martin did not. Alona was one of my oldest friends, and despite our time apart, her tells were still the same. Flushed cheeks, rubbing the back of her neck, and lack of eye contact. Something about her feelings, however, had gone beyond a simple liking.

  I tried to catch Martin’s eye, but he never looked our way, or least, he did not when I was looking at him. He continued to play his corner of the table and never strayed beyond toward the king or the other nobles, so far from him in the hall.

  In between the second and third courses, Eamon presented his skill. Eamon wowed the crowd, and myself if I was honest, with some sharp and technically advanced martial arts. His moves were different from what we taught in the guard and definitely slower, considering his size. However, there was power behind his punches, especially when he broke through three pieces of wood with one swing.

  The court applauded appropriately, and Rebekah leaned over to me to say, “He would be quite an addition to the guard.”

  “Agreed,” I whispered back.

  Later, between the third and fourth courses, Razia got up in front of everyone and solved arithmetic problems faster than anyone I had ever witnessed. She asked the court to give her random problems and sequences, to which she answered every single one correctly and within record time. While it took a bit to double-check her answers, the crowd was appropriately impressed. I knew many of the ministers would be fighting over her later, as that skill was heavily coveted between many departments.

  Emerald’s skill brought a little controversy, which she managed to talk her way out of gracefully. When it came t
ime for her to display her skill, Em remained seated in her wheeled chair, and simply stated, “My skill is in front of you.”

  We saw our fifth course before us, which was a simple baked pastry with a small dipping cup of honey beside it.

  “I grew that honey with my bees and flavored it to best suit this fluffy pastry, which I also developed the recipe for,” Em explained to the room.

  Intrigued, the rest of us tasted the dessert before us. It was sweet, light, and complimented the airy breaded pastry perfectly. I wanted to stick my tongue in the dipping cup and lick the thing clean.

  It was clear from the pleasant murmurs and delighted groans from around the table that everyone agreed with me. Save for Maji, who, I noted, did not try the dessert. She glanced up at her server and kindly asked them to take the plate away or something like that because the server, without a word, whisked her pastry into the back. It was so smooth that you had to be watching or sitting right next to her to see.

  Martin obviously noticed and bent down to Maji, presumably to ask what was wrong. It did not seem to be anything dire because Martin straightened back to his chair and listened to the ongoing debate about Em’s skill.

  “If her merkin is the bees, then this would be a use of her gift,” Madame Zara Sachen, the Minister of Agriculture, argued. “This is not a skill.”

  “I beg to disagree,” Mister Moorly, the Minister of Health, countered. “She also created the pastry, which is baking, and that is a coveted skill as well.”

  “Sire, I believe you have to have the final say in this,” Madame Michell, the Minister of Magical Affairs, chimed in.

  “With all due respect, sire, she is related to you,” Madame Vike, the Minister of Law, protested. “You have a biased view when it comes to this decision.”

  “I understand your concerns, Elainne,” King Atlus said gently. “We can ask the opinion of another, someone with less concern about these matters. Young Maji?”

  When the king called out Maji’s name, the room fell silent once again. Poor Travis was left mid-chew and had to swallow loudly in the lack of a din.

  “Yes, sire?” Maji called back.

  “I would like to ask you a question,” the king said, ignoring the tension growing from his court.

  “Of course, sire,” Maji answered. Clearly, this twelve-year-old was not intimidated by the king in the slightest, and something about that strength amused me.

  “What do you think of Lady Em’s skill?” the king asked innocently. “You can be honest, girl, I promise no harm will come to you for expressing your opinion.”

  “I think baking is a skill,” Maji said slowly, thinking about her answer before speaking. “I also know that when working with animals of any kind, one has to be extremely careful, because they are their own creatures and cannot be forced to do anything they do not want to do. If Lady Em’s gift has nothing to do with honey-making, then I believe it would be an admirable skill indeed.”

  “Very eloquent answer, Young Maji,” the king complimented.

  “Thank you, sire,” the girl said with a small bow of her head.

  “What is it that your parents do in town?” he proceeded to ask, now changing the subject.

  “My mother takes care of my siblings and me while my father is the dye master in town,” Maji answered, the pride apparent in her voice.

  “When you go home tonight, please tell your parents that they have a very intelligent daughter,” King Atlus said with a smile.

  “I will, sire, thank you,” Maji replied.

  “Lady Emerald, thank you for showing us your skill,” the king said, returning the room’s attention back to the matters at hand. “Please enjoy the rest of this course, and then we will move onto Maria’s skill.”

  I pondered what Maria’s skill might be if she was not able to do anything with plants. Then I remembered that she was a rather talented musician in our childhood and hoped we were to get a private concert.

  Indeed, Maria pulled out her harp and played for the entire hall. With the vastness of the room, the music flowed and hit our ears with the precise tones. It was a lovely melody, one Maria claimed to write herself, that brought tears to the corners of nearly every noble’s eyes. Rightly so, it was a beautiful song, and when Maria struck the last note, the room erupted into applause, the first skill to garner that kind of reaction.

  Now, between the sixth and seventh courses, it was Martin’s turn. I saw Maji give Martin’s hand a squeeze before Martin had fully left the table. The two shared a small smile before Martin walked to the front of the room. There, four pillars waited for him. They had been set up during the previous course, and each held something, all covered by an individual white sheet.

  Immediately, I knew what Martin was going to do. He was going to show off his paintings. A fierce sense of pride swelled in my chest. I knew how important Martin’s art was to him, but also how sacred it was. He was very protective of it and limited who could see it. I had only ever witnessed his work on accident and was only rarely welcomed back. Now, here he was, about to unveil his pieces to the court. It was a tremendous step of courage for him, and I willed him to do well.

  One by one, Martin uncovered his artwork. He did not speak the whole time and gave no explanation or introduction to the pieces. He simply let us look.

  And look we did. There were four pieces painted on slabs of rock. They appeared to tell a story, starting with a dark expanse of ocean reflecting the night sky on its surface, gentle waves crashing on the shore of black sand, vibrant colored trees and foliage, and overhead, a bright full moon.

  Then it moved to show seven colorful dragons flying over the black sands, their wings capturing the grace and elegance of flight.

  The third panel depicted the moment when Martin had showed up on the palace wall, wreathed in light with seven dragons hovering beside him, staring down into a painted palace courtyard.

  Finally, the last panel was the brightest, the most colorful, and the one that caused a chorus of gasps to rise through the air. On that pillar were the same seven dragons from the last two, but these ones were depicted as being mid-take-off and on their backs…

  It was when Martin had invited everyone to fly with him and his clan. It showed all our faces in exquisite detail, the joy and fear and awe and wonder mixed on everyone’s faces. And in the center of it all was Martin smiling broadly atop Ffamran, who was roaring loudly, already in the air.

  I took a moment to glance over at Rebekah, Bailey-Sue, and Alona to see their reactions. And I wasn’t disappointed. Rebekah was smiling softly, a reminiscent glaze over her eyes, Bailey-Sue was nearly vibrating in her seat as she grinned as brightly as she did that day of flying, and Alona looked like she wanted to run up and hug Martin. Well, I couldn’t hold that against her since I wanted to, as well. I wanted to get everyone together again like we had been that day and just… be with them.

  Martin had depicted the story of his bonds, both to his clan and his friends, and I was on my feet before I realized it.

  It was gorgeous, breathtaking, and daring. And it was sure to win over all the other inductees.

  36

  Diana

  “How dare you insult us so?” Madame Ella immediately shouted. The Minister of Finance and Martin’s least favorite councilmember rose to her feet. “Cover that up this instant.”

  I could hear the echoes of confusion around the table. Why was the Minister of Finance saying it was an insult?

  I looked at Rebekah in confusion, but she wore the same stunned and confused look as I did as she stared at the noble.

  “No,” Martin defied, his eyes squinted in confusion at the noble. “This is my skill. I am a painter, and this is what I chose to show you today. I don’t see why you think it’s an insult. It’s my story.”

  “You insolent boy,” the Minister griped. “You dare show your terrorism attempt to us? Are you threatening us again? Have you not done enough damage already?”

  “Terrorism?” Martin countere
d, bewildered. “Threaten? I’m just showing my story as it happened. It’s not my fault if you choose to interpret it that way, but I promise you I was not going for what you are implying.”

  “Madame Ella,” Madame Poulis, the Minister of Forestry, said in her gentle but firm tone, “you are obviously angered, but there is no need to shout and insult the boy. He did what was asked of him for this round.”

  “We do not need reminding of that day when you nearly destroyed the monarchy,” Madame Ella snapped at her colleague, still yelling. “And you should be angry along with me.”

  “I would say you just wish to cause trouble, ma’am,” Alona retorted with a rough voice. “No one else seems to have the issue you seem to have with Martin’s paintings. If you are so disturbed by them, I would question why you seem to be so insecure about the incident.”

  “How dare you,” the Minister breathed back at Alona. “I am a noble, and you are a commoner, you dare speak to me that way?”

  “It is only a suggestion, ma’am, yours to take or leave,” Alona replied, still with the same sharp tone.

  “Are we not supposed to judge on the art itself, not the subject?” Madame Michell asked. “Because, as Alona mentioned, Martin is a really talented artist, and I see no reason to be upset on the subject.”

  “It is an insult!” Madame Ella continued. “It should not be allowed in this room, let alone anywhere in the court. He is using his skill to threaten us.”

  “Not threaten,” Martin corrected. “I’m merely showcasing my skill as a painter through a subject that I feel depicts the happiest memories of my time here in Insomier.”

  “Well, I still say you are attempting to reignite your attempt to overthrow the true King. Now, cover those terrible rocks up,” the Minister of Finance said as she waved her hand dismissively.

  “Hansell,” the minister’s husband said gently, “does it really warrant this type of reaction?”