“We never did that.”
“You didn’t, because you’re here,” Nora said. “The rest of your army invaded New Therro four days after they left Deroga.”
“Everything Nora told you is true,” Ovrun said. “I was a royal guard. I lost my job because I was trying to help her track down the militia she told you about.”
“If it’s true,” the spy said, “why would you tell me all this?”
Nora hesitated. She’d thought this man might switch sides if he realized his king was no longer worth following. Probably messed that up when I screamed at him and nearly punched him.
All she could do was respect him now. She spoke calmly, eyes locked on his. “I just wanted you to know the whole story. I think you deserve that.” She drew in a deep breath. “Listen, what the army did to the trogs . . . I didn’t realize how mad that made me until I came in here and saw you sitting there. What you did was wrong.” Teeth clenched, she shook her head. “But I’ve done things I regret too. It’s never too late to step off the path of injustice and choose another way.”
The man watched her. Silence stretched so long, Nora gave up hope of getting a response.
As she and Ovrun walked toward the door, the spy called out, “My name is Elo Golsch. And the only reason I went to that house was because I’m hungry.”
Nora turned. “We’ll get you some food.”
“Thank you.”
Those two words sparked hope in Nora’s chest.
Zeisha sipped tea from a clay mug. She’d reached the part of her story that she didn’t want to tell, and she needed a moment to prepare.
The door opened to reveal Nora and Ovrun.
“Come in,” Eira said. “Sit.”
As they settled on the floor by the couch, Zeisha drew in a deep breath. Krey’s warm hand was on her knee. She took it and held it tightly. In a shaking voice, she described why and how she’d attacked the spy, concluding, “I told him if he tried anything, I’d kill him. Lots of people came running, and, well . . . you know the rest.”
“I’m sorry you had to do that,” Nora said.
“Thank you,” Zeisha whispered through a tight throat.
“I’m sorry too.” Krey’s voice drew her eyes to him. “But I’m also proud of you. You used your talent for good. You did the right thing.”
His words were a salve to her heart.
“Zeisha,” Eira said, “You may return to bed now, if you wish.”
“I’d like to hear Nora and Ovrun’s report.” Zeisha managed a smile for her two new friends.
“Very well.”
Nora recounted her conversation with the spy. “He wasn’t sure whether to believe me,” she concluded, “but he did listen. If you’re kind to him, I think he’ll keep listening. Maybe he’ll even help us eventually. Oh, and he needs food. And a basin and sponge and some clean clothes.”
“I already send someone to fetch all those items for him,” Eira said. “Now, back to bed. All of you.”
In the street, Krey quietly guided Zeisha away from the others.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
“Our park.”
She smiled and took his hand.
They walked along the park’s dark path, laughing when they ran into errant tree branches. After a little while, they stopped. Krey leaned against a wide tree trunk and pulled Zeisha close to him. He kissed the top of her head. “You okay?”
She pulled in a deep breath. An image of the spy’s neck flashed in her mind again. “I’m not sure.”
“What you did tonight was good. Really good.” After a pause, he added, “Did I mention I’m proud of you?”
She lifted her head, though she couldn’t see him well in the darkness. “You did.”
Krey brought a hand to her cheek, then slowly slid it into her hair. She let out a sigh. She needed him to kiss her, to smother this night’s memories with his lips.
He didn’t. She let some time pass—probably only a few seconds, though it felt like longer—then grabbed his face with both hands and pressed her lips to his. He let out a low laugh, one Zeisha felt more than she heard. Something about that laugh sent heat shooting through her. Her lips parted, and he responded with passion that matched hers. She pressed closer, relishing the rise and fall of his chest against hers. Her fingers dug into his hair.
Sooner than she’d have preferred, Krey released her lips and rested his forehead against hers. “You,” he said, his voice low and a little growly, the tone that always threatened to buckle her knees.
She laid her head on his shoulder, trying to catch her breath. So much about her life recently had been all wrong. The king and his people had used her for her magic, stealing months of her life. She’d turned into a powerful, cruel magic eater—someone she no longer recognized.
But this—being here with Krey—this was right. With him holding her, the horror over her actions faded into the background. The way he’d looked at her, she could almost believe that what she’d done tonight was right. Krey’s pride in her was contagious.
All at once, the fullness of his sacrifices for her slammed into her, renewing her breathlessness. He’d left home to live at the palace with a king he’d never trusted, just so he could find her. He’d gotten arrested, then gotten fired. He’d fled to an ancient city, where he’d fought a battle that could’ve killed him.
All for her.
Something in Zeisha’s heart shifted in an instant, catching her off guard. Instinct told her to be cautious, but by the stone, she was tired of questioning herself. She needed to adjust to her new power . . . to her new life. It was time to push away her doubts.
Zeisha pulled back, took both of Krey’s hands, and looked up at his face. Dawn must be on its way; she could make out his features now. “I’m going to fight,” she said. “With you.” When his eyes widened, she smiled. “You look as surprised as I feel.”
“I told you—Zei, you don’t have to do this.”
“I know. I want to. I didn’t think I would ever want to . . . but I do.” She couldn’t pinpoint why, but she knew it was true.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, her heart feeling lighter by the second. “I’ll be the vine eater on your back. You’re gonna have to practice flying with me though.”
He grinned. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to that.”
“We could go now. Do you have any feathers?”
“A few, in my pocket. But—” He let go of her, ran his hands over his face, and chuckled. “I’ve told you what it’s like for me. I feel the person who’s on my back.”
“I know. You incorporate them into your magic. You told me that.”
“Yeah, but I’ll feel all of you.” He pulled her closer. She clasped her fingers behind his neck. His hands slid down her sides, coming to rest on her waist. “Every single part,” he said, speaking in that low voice again.
Her breaths quickened again. Heat prickled the skin of her neck and ears. “Oh.” It was more of a breath than a word.
His mouth found her ear. “I don’t think I could handle that right now. As much as I’d like it.”
She resisted the urge to kiss him again, knowing his lips would snip any thread of self-control she had left. Instead, she let out a soft laugh. “You’re killing me, Krey. You know that, right?”
He pulled her into his chest and held her close as the sun rose.
10
Humans have been on Anyari for over six millennia. We’ve become so enlightened. We long ago left behind our lesser tendencies: inequality and injustice, scams and slavery.
Right?
Yesterday, I flew over Deroga in a glidecraft. I saw the fenced estates of our rich and the small houses of our poor. Sure, everyone has their basic needs met, but beyond that, only the rich enjoy the greatest privilege of all: unlimited options.
-“Inequality in Equality” by Genta Ril
The Derogan Chronicle, dated Quari 15, 6293
Ovrun a
pproached the campfire where he’d agreed to spend the evening with his friends and several militia members. His stomach growled when he smelled bread cooking.
Krey stood as Ovrun approached. “Where have you been?”
“Exercising.” Stalking shimshims through city streets didn’t provide the level of activity Ovrun was used to. He couldn’t let himself grow soft. He’d found a grassy area where he could do push-ups, planks, and other exercises to his heart’s content. “Guess I lost track of time.” He looked around. “Where’s Nora?”
“She left a few minutes ago. She’s about to go meet with Hatlin.”
“Damn it, I forgot that was tonight!” Ovrun was sleepy, and he knew Nora was too. They hadn’t gotten much rest the night before, thanks to their encounter with the Cellerinian spy. But sleep could wait. Tonight, he wanted to go on a dragon ride with her.
He ran toward the street where she’d told him Osmius would pick her up. It was too dark to see much of anything. “Nora?” he called.
From down the street, her voice rang out. “Ovrun, is that you?”
“Don’t leave yet!” He sprinted down the middle of the street. Soon, in the light of a half-moon, he spied Nora and the dragon. He halted next to them.
Nora stepped close and lifted her face. “Came to say goodbye?”
“Actually”—he gave her a quick peck—“I came to see if I can come with you.” He pulled his shirt away from his damp skin. “If you don’t mind some sweaty company.”
Nora wrinkled her nose. “I’m used to it. It’s Osmius you should be worried about. If he’s offended, he might incinerate you.”
Ovrun laughed. “Sounds more like something Taima would do. Seriously, can I come?”
“Hang on.” Nora paused, then said, “Osmius says it’s fine. Despite your sweat.”
She climbed up the dragon’s textured scales, then lay on her belly, her arms and legs wide, knees bent. “Come on up,” she said.
Ovrun climbed up behind her and assumed a similar position, though he had to hold his arms even wider since he didn’t have a neck to hold. Once his fingers and the toes of his boots were wedged between Osmius’s dark scales, he told Nora he was ready.
They took to the air. The only other time Ovrun had ridden on a dragon was after he, Nora, and Krey had rescued Taima, Osmius’s mate. For the first leg of that flight, Ovrun was barely conscious, having sustained a gunshot wound. They stopped and visited a healer, but when Ovrun returned to the dragon’s back, he was still in pain. He’d survived the flight to Deroga, rather than enjoying it.
Now, his arm didn’t bother him beyond an occasional dull ache. He embraced the thrill of flying on a massive reptid’s back. As Osmius spiraled higher into the cold sky, Ovrun laughed and called to Nora, “Tell him thank you for taking me!”
A moment later, she turned her head and shouted over the wind. “I told him! What made you decide to come?”
“Just wanted time with you!”
She smiled and turned to face forward again. It was hard holding a conversation while flying. Ovrun relaxed into Osmius’s firm back and considered Nora’s question.
He did want time with her, but a deeper desire, one he hadn’t quite named yet, had driven him here. He pulled at the strings of his thoughts, trying to figure out what that desire was.
His eyes rested on the girl in front of him. She’d naturally become a leader in Deroga, but it was different from palace leadership. The trogs didn’t care that the king of Cellerin was her father. Only occasionally did her role as a princess matter—like when she’d stayed with Eira during the invasion and when she’d interrogated the spy.
It mattered now too. She understood the ins and outs of government in a way no one else in Deroga did—not even Krey, with his head for strategy. Nora knew what questions to ask Hatlin and what to make of the answers.
Tonight, Nora was truly a princess. Ovrun wanted to know that part of her.
He and Nora had formed a shallow friendship at the palace but hadn’t become close until she’d fled her home. Hiding in Deroga, she was just a girl, and he was just a guy. As much as he loved that, he knew it would eventually change again.
Nora would be queen.
She could argue that she didn’t want power and that no one knew their future. But something told Ovrun Nora was made to lead their nation. This beautiful girl, whose long legs were currently holding tight to a dragon, would live in her luxurious palace again. He couldn’t guarantee it, but he felt it.
If she married a man and became queen, her husband would be king. She was the heir, so she’d be in charge, but her king would still have power. He’d be expected to help lead.
Ovrun didn’t want such a role. He’d never dreamed of leading the palace guard, much less the country. When Nora had asked him once what he wanted to do with his life, he’d painted an idyllic picture of being a quiet family man, living on a little plot of land, working hard and loving his wife and kids.
That was still what he wanted. Problem was, the more he got to know Nora, the more he wanted her. It went beyond physical attraction. He genuinely liked her—her laugh, determination, and unending quest for adventure.
Lately, when he thought about sitting on a quiet porch while several cute kids played in the front yard, he pictured Nora sitting next to him. He imagined that one of those kids would have her wide eyes, and another would have her glossy, straight hair.
If he could convince himself that scene was even a remote possibility, he’d succumb to his heart in an instant. For some time now, its rhythm had beat out an insistent message, telling him it wanted more than anything to fall in love with this passionate, funny, ice-making, dragon-speaking girl.
If he hadn’t seen the downfall of thoughtless passion in his mother’s life, he’d be giving his heart free rein. Instead, he forced himself to embrace logic, which told him Nora’s path would soon veer far from his.
Unless . . . unless his own future could somehow line up with hers.
That was what this flight was about, he realized now. It wasn’t about spending time with Nora, the girl he cared for. It was about spending time with Her Royal Highness Princess Ulminora Abrios. He’d experienced royal life as a guard. An underling. Today, he’d experience it at the princess’s side. As an equal.
Was he trying to persuade himself he’d make a good king? Did he hope Nora’s actions would prove she wasn’t meant to be queen? Was he just trying to know her better, understand this girl he’d fallen for?
I don’t know. I need to be here, but I’m not sure why.
Ovrun shook his head, rubbing his cheek against the dragon’s smooth scales. All this introspection was getting him nowhere. Maybe he’d understand the trip’s purpose more when it was over. For now, he could enjoy riding through the cold skies of Cellerin, warming himself by thinking about Nora. It wasn’t too hard with her this close to him.
At last, they landed just beyond a little grove of trees, a couple of mets north of the Eastern Road that connected Cellerin City to Deroga. A man was waiting, holding a single candle. Nora and Ovrun slid off Osmius’s back and approached.
“Hatlin,” Nora said, her voice calm and confident, “this is Ovrun. He helped free the militia.”
Hatlin shifted on his feet. He grunted something that might’ve been “Hello,” but his eyes were fixed behind his visitors.
“The dragon won’t bite,” Nora said, laughter in her voice. “He also won’t incinerate you.”
“Well.” Hatlin cleared his throat. An awkward silence fell.
“Would it help if the dragon wasn’t here?” Nora asked.
“I, ah . . .” He seemed to have lost most of his ability to speak.
A few seconds later, Osmius flew off. “Better?” Nora asked.
“Better,” Hatlin confirmed, his voice stronger now. “Listen, Princess, I don’t have a lot to share today. The army’s still training outside New Therro. They’ve recruited more soldiers. Good news for you is, I think it’ll be a
while before they’re ready to fight.”
Nora’s brows lifted. “Why’s that?”
Hatlin shook his head, chuckling. “Those soldiers have no idea what they’re doing. You know how the Cellerinian Army has always worked. Weekend drills a couple of times a month. From what I’ve heard, a lot of those trainings got cancelled. And when they did meet, nobody learned much of anything. Hell, if my people knew how incompetent the army was, they might’ve done a better job standing up to them. It’s scary when hundreds of people in uniform come at you with weapons. Guess they didn’t notice the uniforms were full of idiots.”
“Are they getting any more skilled?” Nora asked.
“Sure, a little. They’re doing some serious training now. But word is, a lot of our guys, the ones who got forced into the army, they aren’t trying real hard. They don’t want to fight. We’re trying to work out a way for them to revolt, but the planning’s slow going.” He shrugged helplessly. “Now, what’s going on in Deroga?”
“I’d like you to get a message to the army’s leaders,” Nora said. “See if they’re willing to talk to the trogs.”
“They want to negotiate? After the army vandalized their city?”
Ovrun was as surprised as Hatlin. He hadn’t heard about this request.
“Well, not negotiate, exactly.” Nora sounded hesitant. “Between you and me, the trogs aren’t willing to give up any of their freedom. They just want to convince the army this fight isn’t worth it. Cellerin doesn’t need Deroga. They don’t need the space or the people, and it’s not like the trogs would bring a lot of wealth to the country. Cellerinian citizens will die if they fight the trogs. It won’t be worth it.”
Hatlin let out a long breath. “I’ve been flying almost every night. Can we sit?”
“Sure,” Nora said.
They sat in the dirt, facing each other.
Hatlin leaned forward. Flickering candlelight shone on his bloodshot eyes. “Here’s the thing. One of my sources told me most of the officers agree with you—fighting trogs is pointless. But they’re not the ones making the calls.” His gaze didn’t swerve from Nora’s face.
The Vine Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy Book 2) Page 9