by Emma Hamm
“We cannot attack anyone without your agreement, Sigrid.”
“And my answer will always be no.”
He shook his head, but his eyes were watching her as if he could see right through her thin control. “You’ll change your mind eventually, dragoness. I’m trying to save you an outright war. Even your own sisters agree with me. Attack the Earthen folk. End this before you regret your decisions.”
She wouldn’t. Sigrid was confident in that regard, but perhaps she was the only one who was. The Earthen folk were not going to attack the Beastkin. Why would they be so foolish? They had seen firsthand what Sigrid was capable of. Rumors and myths traveled fast in these places. No one would take such a risk when there was a dragon willing to burn their cities to the ground.
Her stomach twisted as guilt ate at her gut. The screams of Bymerian women and children filled her ears until she had to blurt out words just so her own voice would overpower them.
“Why does the great hall resemble a barn?” she asked, her tone icy and her voice hard.
“I don’t think your people would like you comparing them to farm animals.”
“Then perhaps they should start acting like humans.”
He raised an eyebrow, then sucked his tongue over his teeth. The sound cracked into the ceiling. “Careful, dragoness. You don’t want your people thinking ill of you. They are, after all, the ones who made you so powerful in the first place.”
It wasn’t the Beastkin who had made her powerful. It was her mother. The woman who had passed down the ability to shift into the great, serpentine beast she was.
But this wasn’t what Jabbar was referencing. His words were a whispered threat that even a dragon could be taken down by Beastkin if they wished. There were enough creatures here that they could have their own uprising if she didn’t do exactly what they wanted, whenever they wanted.
More and more, she resented setting them free. They wanted her to do everything. They expected the world to be handed to them.
The Wildewyn Beastkin were like this, because they had been waited on hand and foot within their old lives. The Earthen folk hadn’t wanted to anger them. They were too powerful to make angry, but they’d also treated them like pets. She knew of only a few who could even clean up after themselves.
The Bymerian Beastkin hadn’t ever had anything as nice as this place to live. They treated it as they would have any of the ruins they had lived in. This was just another thing to destroy until they found another, more suitable, home.
Sigrid nudged a larger chunk of meat, clearly inedible at this point, with her foot and pointedly stared at it. “Even you can’t want to live like this.”
“I see no problem with living the way we were meant to. We’re animals, Sigrid.” He gestured at her with the hunk of meat. “Perhaps you should try it sometime. You’re holding onto the old ways, and it’s making the others nervous.”
A surge of anger made her cheeks hot. “Is it?”
“Indeed. There aren’t any good memories from their old lives, but here you are waving it in their faces. Memories of things they don’t like are bound to stir up trouble.”
“I grow weary of your thinly veiled threats,” she growled.
“What threats?” Jabbar licked a drop of blood from his arm. “I’m merely telling you how your people are feeling. If that information makes you uncomfortable, dragoness, perhaps it’s because you know I am correct.”
She might have flown at him if the doors hadn’t slammed open. She spun on the intruder, her skirts whirling around her like petals opening around a flower. Although the movement might have been graceful, it was filled with deadly intent.
She remained stiff and poised for battle even as Camilla raced toward her. Her friend’s eyes were wide, her jaw ticking. That could only mean one thing.
Trouble.
“What is it now?” Sigrid hissed.
Out of breath and clearly disturbed, Camilla snapped, “Greenmire calls for you.”
“Greenmire?” she repeated. “The Earthen folk haven’t called for me since we took our people back. There’s no reason why they should need to speak with me.”
“And yet, there is a courier standing in front of the castle. I think…” Camilla’s eyes darted toward Jabbar, then she lowered her voice. “You should probably get out there. The others aren’t happy that a human is here.”
“Children,” she hissed. “They should greet any guest with kindness.”
“I don’t think they see it that way.”
Jabbar began to chuckle, the dark sound filling the great hall with a promise of more bloodshed to come. “They don’t want humans around here. Beastkin lands should remain in Beastkin hands.”
“Is that what you’ve taught them to chant?” Sigrid asked, already stalking away from him. “You should remember that prejudice has a way of coming back on you.”
“They’re weaker. Soon, they won’t be around anymore.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” She waited until Camilla was at her side, then slammed the doors behind them.
Let the foolish man rot alone in his keep, thinking that he’s far more powerful than he actually was. She didn’t care what he wanted to do with his free time. Their people needed someone with a softer heart than that. Someone with a more open mind who would guide them into a future where they could live in harmony with the other race who inhabited their lands.
“Was that wise to say?” Camilla asked. She spoke quietly and low, making certain any other Beastkin wouldn’t overhear them.
“No,” Sigrid replied honestly. “But eventually, this will come to blows between the two of us. He wants to destroy all that I hold dear, and I won’t let him.”
“What is there to destroy? This place has never existed before.”
Sigrid gestured around them and began the quick walk down to the front of the keep. “All of this. This place, these people. They are seeds we have planted into the ground. If we don’t water them with kindness, let the sun kiss their face with honor, shelter them from storms which would rip out their roots and history, then they will blister, die off, and eventually become something twisted and wrong. This, I believe. Pouring poison into the soil like Jabbar wants us to do… that will only end in madness.”
If she could have plastered the words over every surface of the keep, she would have. It seemed as though the Beastkin refused to see reason. They’d already had their battle. They’d seen dragons fighting in midair and the fall of both creatures of old.
Why were they not pleased with what they had already wrought?
Sigrid shouldered aside a Beastkin man with a beard so long it touched his ribs, then pushed against the shoulder of a lion who stood at the entrance to the keep. There was already a growing crowd, those who wanted to protect their home against any intruder, and those who hated humans so much it made their chests ache.
She didn't want the courier to have to suffer this injustice. Hallmar, the king of all Earthen folk and Wildewyn, would expect more from her.
The courier stood alone beside his horse. The animal was white as snow, and its hide rippled with fear as more and more animals arrived. She was shocked the beast remained where it was, but it was obviously well trained.
In contrast, the man standing next to the beast was little more than a child. His beard had barely grown in and suffered from a patchiness of young men not yet grown. His clothing was simple and plain. Perhaps to allow him to travel to this place easier and without people wondering why the king was sending a message to the Beastkin. Or, perhaps because he wasn’t really a courier at all. Just a farm boy Hallmar had commandeered away from his family.
She’d seen worse things during her stay in the castle, but always in the name of the kingdom. If she could say anything about her renounced king, it was that he was just and fair.
Sigrid strode toward the boy with purpose, her gaze cold and her temper held in check. “I apologize for the unusual welcome. You’ll have to excuse
my brethren. We are unused to guests.”
She hoped he heard the words underneath those she spoke. The ones that said she was embarrassed, to hold his tongue when he returned to the king. That she would make it up to him with gold and food if he made certain her secret was safe.
The courier bowed awkwardly. “Milady dragon. I’ve heard tales of you in the capital.”
“I’m sure you have,” she murmured softly. “They are likely true and untrue. What news do you bring from our king?”
“Our king?” he repeated.
Her blood froze in her veins. No answering murmur rose from the crowd behind her, so it was unlikely any Beastkin had overheard her words. They weren’t so discerning a folk that they would listen to her speaking to the courier. To them, every word was something only royals knew. They let her do the talking and then report back when they wished to know what had happened.
But she would have to be more careful. She needed to remember that Hallmar wasn’t her king anymore. No matter how much she respected the man, no matter how much she regretted her choices, she was not to refer to him as her own king.
Sigrid cleared her throat and looked the boy in the eye. He flinched back, perhaps not used to someone directing their words so painfully toward him. “He used to be my king as well. I honor him, as I understand he would do for me.”
The boy nodded. “He respects you a great deal, milady.”
As he should, she was the only barrier between him and outright war.
Sigrid glanced back at the swarm of Beastkin still within the castle walls. They stared back at her with fear in their eyes, and rage. A rage so powerful it swelled around them in a powerful crest that threatened to break over their own heads.
How could she teach them rage like that could only end in bloodshed and sadness? How many more people had to pay with their lives until they saw the world as she did?
“I’ll go now,” she said. “I suspect he’s summoning me for a reason and hasn’t sent you with just a message?”
“No, milady.” The boy cleared this throat. “He’d like you at Greenmire as soon as possible, but also requested I tell you he understands you are a busy woman and—”
“I said I’ll leave now,” she interrupted. “Camilla?”
Her dark friend stepped forward, owl eyes watching the courier with curiosity. “We’re leaving, I take it?”
She wouldn’t take anyone else. Camilla was the only person she trusted, save one Bymerian man who had taken to wandering Wildewyn rather than staying within the keep.
“Are you flying or riding?” she asked.
“If there’s an option of riding, I’d rather not tire my poor little arms,” Camilla replied, dryly.
Sigrid felt the change flex through her. Elation at becoming a dragon once again made her head spin and her nerve endings spark with joy. Together, they would fly to the King of Wildewyn’s home.
She just hoped he wasn’t about to tell her about another impending war.
2
Nadir
“Sultan? Perhaps you wish to give your verdict on this case?”
The words came out of nowhere, although they were likely words he should have been listening to. Nadir sat on his throne in the massive hall where he met with his people, and where they voiced their complaints.
Great swaths of red fabric streamed from the ceiling to coil in snake-like tendrils on the gold, marble floor. Pools lined either side of the room and, if he’d looked within, fish swam in the shallow depths. For all intents and purposes, this was a beautiful place filled with so much splendor that it should have made his eyes water.
It didn’t. But then again, it never had before.
Nadir straightened on his gold throne. When had he leaned his chin on his fist? And had his eyes just been closed?
The advisors all stared at him with varying expressions of disappointment. The expressions weren’t any different than what he’d been getting for months now.
In a way, he didn’t blame them. No one wanted to lose their power suddenly, and they certainly didn’t like that their words weren’t heard anymore. But Nadir simply didn’t care what they had to say.
Poison had flooded his city for too long, and they’d suffered with a sultan who did not know what he wanted. Or even how to find out what he wanted.
Those times were long past. The city had begun to rebuild itself under his watchful eye. It was a struggle. Every step of the way was faced with people who didn’t want to work with a dragon, or those who didn’t like change. But he’d fought each battle as Sigrid had taught him.
Quietly. With poise and a calm demeanor that won people over before they even realized they’d let him do what he wanted.
He just hadn’t realized it would make him so tired.
Clearing his throat, he pressed his spine against the back of the throne and nodded. “Say it one more time. I want to make sure I understand the issue fully before I give my verdict.”
The man in front of him wasn’t the man he remembered before. This was just a farmer, and wasn’t he supposed to be a tailor? Or had his eyes closed before the other man had even left?
The farmer gave him an odd look, but clasped his hands in front of him once more. “My cows have a sickness, Sultan. I’m inquiring if I may go outside of the city to buy new ones from Misthall?”
Oh, that was all? Nadir waved his hand in the air. “Please do. Take a few other farmers with you. Perhaps they too wish for new bloodlines in their stock.”
Why were these questions even directed at a sultan? They were simple answers. His people didn’t need to confirm whether they could go out and do something that would make the kingdom better.
Sighing, he gestured the man away and placed a hand to his forehead. A throbbing headache pounded beneath his skull. Every sound echoed in his head with an answering thump.
One of his advisors stood, and it took every bit of Nadir’s strength not to stiffen.
Abdul was a good man. Nadir still believed that, but his actions of late were certainly suspect. The older man liked to voice his opinion a little too loudly and in the company of those who were far too susceptible to his prejudices.
He wore his white hair pulled back in a leather thong. His beard was carefully trimmed into a point, and his clothing finely pressed. In theory, he carried himself like a man who knew what he was doing. But Nadir saw through the mirage. Abdul was, as always, a man clawing at the social ladder hoping for more and more power.
“That will be the last of them for today. The council would like to have a word with you in private, Sultan.”
“In case you didn’t notice, Abdul, it might be best if I retire for the afternoon,” Nadir replied dryly. He could hardly keep his eyes open or his head up. What did the other man expect from him?
“You’ll wake right up when you see what we have to say.” Abdul held out a hand for Nadir to take. “Come, Sultan. There’s much for us to talk about.”
So it seemed he wouldn’t be able to rest today. He nearly groaned as he stood. Sometimes, he wanted to go back to the way things were. When the advisors had taken care of all the difficult things he now was responsible for. When he’d been able to laze the day away and do next to nothing.
Nadir didn’t take Abdul’s hand, but stood on his own. Albeit slowly, but he didn’t need to lean on his advisor. He had to hide the tired groan that threatened to escape his mouth, however.
He followed the train of advisors to a more private meeting room. He’d always hated this room with its floor to ceiling gold. Every ornate piece was beautifully hand carved, the attention to detail more than impressive. But it felt less like a room in the palace, and more like a museum where he couldn’t touch a single thing without worrying he might break something. Pottery of the highest quality stood on stands in many of the corners. Tapestries hung from the walls. And stained glass windows cast colored shadows on the floor around them. A table sat in the center, precious mahogany wood underneath a thick slab of quartz
.
The advisors gathered in a flock together at the end, each whispering among each other while Nadir situated himself on a seat at the head of the large table.
He took his time deliberately. They needed to remember they couldn’t summon him whenever they wished. He was a busy man now.
At the thought, his chest swelled with pride. Finally, he could say that he was truly busy. His brother would have been proud.
Abdul cleared his throat. “Sultan?”
“A moment.” Nadir ran his hand down his red silk tunic and billowing pants. He tucked the fabric more comfortably around him, a waste of time certainly, but a reminder to the others not to toy with his time. “Proceed.”
The frustrated huff of breath from his advisor was more than a little pleasing. “We, as a council, have been considering the integration of Beastkin into our society, as you have requested.”
“Ah, yes. I did request that you work with me on assisting in easing public discomfort in the presence of Beastkin.” Nadir nodded sagely, but narrowed his eyes on the advisor. “However, I did not ask your opinion in whether or not we should do it. We’re moving forward with the idea. I didn’t ask if you thought it wise.”
“Nevertheless, it is our job to consider the health of the kingdom—”
“That is not your role on this council any longer,” Nadir interrupted. “Your role is to advise me on your thoughts, nothing more, nothing less. I’ve heard enough about Beastkin from all of you. I know your thoughts. I have listened. Now, I am sultan of this kingdom, and I choose to move forward in reintegrating them to Bymere. Your job is to assist me in that. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Abdul’s jaw fell open and for the first time in his life, Nadir had successfully shocked the man.
If the iron in his voice hadn’t convinced them he was serious, then he didn’t know what would. Nadir planned on moving forward regardless of their opinions. He was married to a Beastkin. What else did they want from him? If anything, it was their mistake in the first place.