by Emma Hamm
She held out a hand for Eivor to take. “Come home with me, medicine woman. Come and see the world that you have been denied. If you wish to return once you have seen all the world has to offer, then I will carry you back.”
Eivor didn’t hesitate to take her hand. “I want to see the world beyond the ice.”
“Then so be it.”
Sigrid took a few steps away from the medicine woman, letting her hand fall and the dragon beneath Sigrid’s skin awaken. The creature was becoming more and more like Sigrid every day. She didn’t want to deny the dragon anything it wanted, because she wanted the same thing.
Taking a deep breath, she let the change shift through her body. Painless and easy, scales covered her body and a long snout erupted through her skin. Wings unfurled where her arms had been. Suddenly, she felt so much more powerful than she had been before. This was her true form. This was the form she loved and adored above all others.
Huffing out a breath, she stepped forward and lowered herself so Eivor could hop on.
The woman’s eyes widened. “No, I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.”
Again she shifted until it was clear they weren’t going to move without Eivor doing as she asked. Did the woman really think they were going to walk out of this ancient cavern? There were no secrets left here. Just relics of a time Sigrid knew had to end.
The moment Eivor managed to drag herself up onto her back, Sigrid reared back and let out a roar that shook the ceiling.
She stared up at the ice and wondered how long it would take for the ancients to punish her for this. She opened her jaws, then let out a stream of blue fire so hot it burned through the ceiling in a perfect hole.
Cold air rushed down upon them, falling from the air like snow.
With a great flap of her wings, she launched herself out of the cavern and out into the open air. The remains of the ice brushed the tips of her wings. Cold and still streaming water, it coated her wings and froze them solid for a moment before she flexed her muscles. The leathery fabric of her body shook free from the cold with ease.
Sigrid hovered in the air, holding herself still and trying to think where she would go. She didn’t want to return to the ancient’s stronghold. They had given her nothing but history. A history she refused to repeat.
And yet, Camilla was still there. Waiting for her, expecting that Sigrid would come.
She opened her jaws again and let out another stream of fire that struck the air like thunder. Cold air wrapped around her head, set out a reverberation, and the answering echo shook the ground beneath her.
Eivor shivered on her back. The poor creature had already wrapped her arms so tightly around Sigrid’s neck, she almost couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t time to reassure her passenger. They had very little time.
A small dot appeared on the horizon, darting toward her faster and faster. She watched as the grey owl rose above her in the air, and then changed into a woman plummeting toward Sigrid’s back.
She held herself perfectly still as Camilla landed between her wings. They’d never done this before, but she trusted her sister. The woman could climb trees with the best of them, and had been nicknamed monkey as a child.
If anyone could clamber across her in the air, it was Camilla.
Warmth bloomed in her chest at the touch of her sister. It hadn’t been that long… had it? A few months at best, and she still felt as though it had been a lifetime.
Camilla hooked a hand on one of Sigrid’s spines, slid down her belly, and landed in Sigrid’s waiting foot.
Carefully, oh so carefully, Sigrid closed her claws around Camilla. She lifted her up close to her head, winged arms beating at the air to keep them still with the added weight.
Her sister looked as though she’d lost weight. Sigrid tilted her head to the side so her large eye could sweep over Camilla’s form for a moment. Was she all right? Too much could have happened in her absence, and Camilla hadn’t anticipated having to find her.
Something had happened. Sigrid was certain of that.
Camilla reached up and touched a hand to Sigrid’s chest. “Sister.”
An answering rumble in Sigrid’s chest conveyed what she hoped was happiness. Even if Camilla had something terrible to say, Sigrid was glad to see her.
“You have to return home,” Camilla called out. “Although, I suspect you already know that.”
Sigrid inclined her head in a nod. It was long past time she come back, even if her people thought she were dead. She would handle that fallout in the only way she knew how. With honesty and integrity. If they wanted nothing to do with her after that… then at least she would still have her dignity.
“Sigrid…” Camilla cleared her throat. “There’s a war starting.”
Again? She didn’t want to fight with the Beastkin again. They needed to enjoy their lives for a little while, not fight and watch more death come to their lands.
A warm hand smoothed down her breast, finger sinking between scales to touch her skin. “It’s him, Sigrid. Not the Beastkin, not anyone else. Bymere has started a war again, and this time it’s against our homeland. The Bymerians are here. They brought war elephants and soldiers unlike any I’ve seen before.
“We don’t know what to do. The Beastkin don’t want to help those who they feel have imprisoned them. Hallmar specifically asked for you, and I had to tell him you were dead.
“Raheem returned to Bymere to try and talk sense into Nadir but… no one knows where he is. An imposter sits on the throne, something about a league of assassins who know how to help Bymere in times of crisis. But while they focus on their own kingdom, ours burns.”
Camilla stared up at her, dark eyes swirling with tears like starlight in a vast expanse of sky. “I would have left you here. I would have let you find yourself for longer but our home is dying, and I knew you wouldn’t want me to just… let it die.”
There were too many emotions running through her. She could hardly think past the screaming in her head at the mere thought that Wildewyn was dying. She had fallen in love with the green trees. The ones that were burning under the great empire of Bymere as it marched upon her people.
Upon her king.
She didn’t notice she was roaring until her ears began to rang. She’d tilted her head back, dropped open her great jaws, and screamed into the sky until it rumbled with her anger.
The emotion was so strong it sent a current of energy through the tenuous thread that connected her to Nadir. It shimmered in her mind, flaring bright with rage and heartbreak.
The moment she realized they could still speak, that this was what had allowed his anger and pain to reach her, she screamed in her mind. Over and over, she screamed until the draconic beast released its hold and she could shout, “You did this!”
Silence was her response for long heartbeats before she heard his reply.
“What has happened?”
“You know,” she growled back. “You knew Bymere was going to attack my home and you did nothing to stop it.”
“They did what?”
She couldn’t speak anymore. Instead, all she projected were images of Wildewyn trees, ancient as the earth itself, burning to the ground. She sent pictures of blood and warfare. Children dying in the streets and their mothers becoming shields made out of desperation and love.
Maybe that was not the scene in Wildewyn. Though she doubted there was any mercy in their actions. Sigrid knew what war was like. What it did to men who felt more fear than anything else.
She’d never thought to see it destroy the only place she’d felt accepted.
Her blood heated, a projected anger shaking the connection between them when he bellowed, “What has he done?”
“You know who did this?”
“A man who replaced me so I might learn from the best assassins in the world, the Alqatara. He was meant to stall the advisors, not lead them into a war.”
Her wings shook, and she tossed her head. “Enough. We end this now.�
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“Come to me,” he replied, desperation lacing his tone into something rugged and raw. “Come to me, and we will fix this.”
It was not a bad idea. She could fly over the Bymerian army, ignore them entirely, and head toward their homeland. Perhaps then she could make them feel the anger and the fear she felt in her heart.
She would be the one destroying their home. Let them shake and quiver when they saw her great form fly overhead.
Without question or response, Sigrid turned her great head toward the Edge of the World and the man she called husband.
26
Nadir
“Sultan?” the voice interrupted him as he tried to connect with Sigrid again. Anything that would let him know when she was coming. Where was she? What had happened? From whom had she heard these terrible things?
“What?” he snapped, turning so quickly water rushed off him in droplets.
He stood in the center of the oasis still. Nothing had changed there. How long had they been standing here, doing nothing? Staring off into space like some kind of dolt?
Tahira stood in front of him, her eyes eagle golden and staring through him. “Are you still with us?” she growled back.
“I’m alive, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking if you are the one talking to me, or if I’m speaking to the dragon.”
“He cannot speak.”
“He can.” Tahira stared into his eyes a few more heartbeats before her own eyes turned back into the gold gaze of a human. “But perhaps you haven’t learned how to do that just yet. It’s good you survived, Sultan.”
“I don’t think you would have missed me.”
“I wouldn’t have. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have enough of a heart to realize there are some people who would.” She tilted her head to the side. “Like that woman you were whispering to while you were out. Sigrid, is it? I knew a tale of a woman with that name. She was the most powerful creature to ever exist, according to the rumors. Somehow, I’m not sure if that’s true.”
“She might be the most powerful woman to ever exist. But we battled once, and I would have bested her.”
“Would have, but didn’t. What stopped you?”
He hesitated in his reply, because he didn’t want to let this woman know where his weaknesses lay. And yet… Tahira had proved herself loyal to the country. If Sigrid were to become even more essential to this place, then he needed someone else to admire her just as he did.
Taking a deep breath, he shrugged. “The other half of my soul.”
“A sultana?”
“In name only. She’s never needed a crown or a throne to make her a queen.” He believed the words with all his being. Long before she had become the Sultana of Bymere, Sigrid was a woman people remembered. She had changed their lives for the better, and the life of his kingdom into something he could be proud of.
He needed to tell her that. It was important she know he thought so highly of her. That his people would think highly of her when they saw him around her.
She deserved better than a boy king. And so, he’d become a god.
Tahira cleared her throat. “A woman I will look forward to meeting. But for now, Sultan of Bymere, I need you to come with me.”
“Where are we going now? Are you going to try and drown me again?”
“Never again, Sultan. That I promise.” She pressed a fist against her heart and bowed. “Your mother has summoned you.”
His gaze flicked toward the bench where he’d left Nahla. She wasn’t there at all. Nothing was left in the garden oasis that would even suggest she’d ever sat there. Not a single mark or a scrap of fabric to remind him.
“Where did she go?”
“Your mother is very sick,” Tahira murmured. “She’s been fading for a very long time. It was her wish to meet you before she went, but now she’s stayed longer than her body wanted to. She wishes one more goodbye before she joins the ancestors.”
Should he feel more affected by the knowledge? Nadir was sad, of course. The loss of life was a horrible and frightening thing to most of them. The Beastkin believed they would go to live with their ancestors, but the Bymerians didn’t. They didn’t even have priests in his kingdom. Let alone an afterlife that would give them something more than just oblivion.
Swallowing hard, he nodded and followed Tahira from the oasis. They traveled through the village, while he schooled his face into the appropriate expression.
Should he be distraught? It didn’t feel befitting of a sultan.
He’d never seen a person die before. Not up close, nor had he ever really seen a dead body. Perhaps the ones that were on display, but even his brother he been hidden from him in those final moments.
As a child, he’d thought that was odd. Nadir had sat by Hakim’s bedside while his brother struggled as poison ate his body from the inside out. He had seen the worst of what could happen to a person’s body. Death could be a release from such pain.
This was different. Nahla was still a strong woman. Her hands had felt fragile, certainly, but the grip was true. She had been strong enough to hold a conversation with him and wander into the oasis garden.
Why was now the time she wanted to die? Was she making some kind of point to him?
He couldn’t force himself to feel for her as a son should feel. She hadn’t raised him. In truth, he didn’t even know her. He knew her name and that she had spent most of her life with the people here, training them how to fight. But was that enough to feel some kind of attachment?
He didn’t think so. A year ago he might have felt something different. The respect in his chest wasn’t the same blind faith he might have felt as a boy who was desperately trying to find someone to love him. Now, all new attuned was the respect of a woman who should have loved him. The honor of knowing he’d done the right thing by her, and that she would go into the darkness with some kind of approval.
The first person to approve of him since his brother had died.
Tahira stopped in front of the small hut he knew so well and gestured at the covered doorway. “She’s in there. Waiting for you.”
“Thank you,” he replied, reaching out a hand and grasping her shoulder. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“She is my leader.”
“She’s more than that to you, isn’t she?” He looked deeply into her gaze and saw the truth flickering in those depths. “It’s okay,” he said. “She’s not going to be in pain much longer.”
“That’s what everyone says. Like that’s going to help when she’s not going to be here anymore.”
Gods, he wished he could share that sentiment with her. But he couldn’t bring himself to reply that he would feel the loss of her as well. He’d miss her spirit; the strength she had shown him.
But this woman wasn’t his mother. That was the sultana who had brushed his hair and shown him how to braid the long locks. Not the woman who had left him on the doorstep for his father to pick up later on.
Nadir blew out a breath, brushed aside the red fabric door, and stepped into the quiet hut beyond.
No one else waited with the Matriarch of the Alqatara, a realization that made him angry on her behalf. She shouldn’t have to make this journey by herself. What if she had passed while he took his time getting here? No one should have to walk across the bridge of life and death on their own.
Shaking his head, he made his way to the side of the bed where a rattling breath echoed. He sank onto his knees beside her cot and reached for her hand resting on top of the patchwork blanket.
“Matriarch,” he said quietly.
Nahla tilted her head to look at him, her eyes unfocused and dark. “Would you call me mother? At least once in your life?”
He wanted to. Gods, it was the right thing to do for a woman on her deathbed who was asking so little.
But he couldn’t. The memory of his real mother kept rising to the forefront of his mind. He remembered the way she had smelled like jasmi
ne from the baths she took with the concubines every morning. How she refused to wear jewelry, because she said her skin was plenty pretty enough without marring it with stones from the earth. He remembered how the henna on her hands had always been flowers because she loved them so much.
With a sad look, he shook his head. “My deepest apologies, Alqatara. We both know why I cannot do that.”
Nahla sighed. “I do, but I wish that life had been kinder to both of us.”
“There’s little we can do to change what has been done.”
“And yet, an old woman can dream.” Nahla’s hand shook in his grasp. She threaded their fingers together and hesitantly lifted them up. “You became a good man, Nadir, without any advice from me at all.”
“It’s hard not to be when I was raised in a group of men who were kind and honest to a fault.”
“They were,” she whispered. “You’ll find that out soon enough. You’ve survived in a pit of vipers and somehow, impossibly, you turned out to be a dragon who will devour them all.”
They were back here already? He’d thought maybe she would want to have some sentimental words. Not talk to him again about becoming a god, leading the people through fear. What was this woman’s end game?
Nahla coughed, forcing his gaze back to her face. “Listen to me, boy. I couldn’t be there for you when I should have been a mother. I know that.”
“You did what you could.”
“Don’t interrupt me, Nadir. I’m dying, and I only have a little bit of time to say this. You must promise me you will never again fear your dragon. You and he will rule this land without war, bloodshed, or fire. The people need to trust you to protect them, and that they no longer need to fight.”
He didn’t want to argue this when she was about to die. She didn’t need to hear him say he didn’t really believe her, or that he didn’t think he could do what she wanted him to do.
Instead, Nadir curled her fingers within his hands gently. He pulled her closer and tucked her hand against his heart. “I will do all that I can to make you proud of me, Nahla. Matriarch of the Alqatara. Your memory and your story will live throughout the ages. I will never let anyone forget you.”