by Jade Lee
Natiya struggled not to laugh at the obvious fabrication. To begin with, the Emperor himself had told her he was from a family of scholars and that he and his sister had found the eggs. She needed to dig deeper, but where? She sincerely doubted that Dag Racho would keep incriminating texts in his own library.
If only she knew what she was looking for. She continued to read, getting more and more advanced texts on the Emperor's battles, his early days of power and his later days of expansion. Thankfully, the egg was equally curious, equally insatiable, aiding her understanding when her reading skills failed her.
Until the Emperor himself walked in. "My dear," he drawled as he towered over her, "you need your sleep. Tell me you haven't been here all night."
Natiya had just taken a bite out of a huge reedfruit, and her gasp of surprise made the sticky purple juice dribble down her chin. She scrambled to clean herself even as the Emperor's booming laugh filled the large chamber. She glanced up at him, her face heating with embarrassment, and wondered if he had planned the timing just to make her appear foolish. In her years on the docks, she'd witnessed many such petty acts of cruelty, but there was nothing in Dag Racho's expression to indicate such meanness. Then again, his face tended to always look exactly as it did now: kindly, almost fatherly. Except when his gaze dropped to her full belly. Then she thought she caught a glimpse of hunger.
Or maybe it was just the shadows in the cavernous library. Natiya took a few moments to compose herself before smiling up at her Emperor, a slight challenge in her expression.
"I think you already know exactly how long I have been here, what I have eaten and which texts I have read."
His eyes widened a moment, and then his expression softened into a true smile. "I see you are clever. Excellent." Then his eyes became assessing as he settled into the chair across from her. "Tell me then, my clever Queen, what you have learned from these ancient tomes."
She glanced at the scattered stacks of parchment surrounding her, seeing the thin, weblike lettering cover the table that separated the two of them. Reaching through the piles, she pulled out the children's book with which she'd begun. Opening the pages to the colored picture of the young, sweet-faced orphan boy, she absently stroked his cheek while speaking.
"It would seem that you and these texts do not always agree," she said carefully. "Didn't you tell me you had parents and a sister?"
He nodded, and she could read nothing in the gesture. "Any other discrepancies?"
She almost laughed at that, but didn't dare push him too far. So she simply waved her hand over the entire table. "My lord, they are everywhere. Indeed, I am not sure any of these texts agree on anything. Take your sister, for example. She was definitely apparent in your early battles, fighting alongside you, though most do not label her blood kin. Then she simply disappears. Some say she was a myth; others that she died. Still others claim she flew off to parts unknown in search of conquest or fortune or simply a place to be at peace."
Dag Racho nodded, a sad smile on his face. "Many so-called scholars write what they want to be true, not what is truth. Others need to believe certain things just so they can sleep at night."
She nodded. "Your early years are fraught with bloodshed and terror such as I have never known."
"Such was the nature of those times." Then he grasped her hand, drawing her to her feet. "That is why you must rely on me for your information. I am the only one left who was alive during those times. I am the only one who knows the truth."
"But will you share it with me?" she countered, very sure he would not.
He shrugged, his expression a challenge. "That all depends on how quickly you learn." He raised her palm to his lips, blowing warm air across her skin before pressing a gentle kiss in the center. "And how much you please me."
She shivered; she could not help it. His touch still sent currents of power through her, and the heat he generated within her could easily be mistaken for passion. Indeed, she wondered if it was. After all, she only had her attraction to Kiril as comparison. Perhaps he had been infatuation, dragon magic as he called it, and Dag Racho was her true mate.
As if reading her thoughts, he stroked his palm down her belly. "You are still young, Natiya, so you question this passion between us." The egg responded to his touch, twisting within her, making her gasp. "I tell you it is rare. Extremely rare." He slowly released her, brushing his hand over her breasts before lifting her chin. "You must treasure what is between us, Natiya. Protect it, and I will fulfill your greatest desires." He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, touching the curve of her lips with his tongue.
As always, a current passed between them. But once he withdrew, the power faded; the tingle quickly died, leaving Natiya to wonder what exactly made Kiril's touch linger in her thoughts long after he was gone from her.
"Come!" Dag Racho ordered before she could answer her own question. "You have much to learn before I introduce you to my underlings."
She fell into step beside him. Indeed, she had little choice as he pulled her along with him. "But—" she began.
"Hush. You must bathe first and attire yourself more appropriately." He flashed a grin. "After that, if you learn quickly, I shall give you a great reward." And with that, he handed her over to a contingent of guards. He gave them orders as to what she would wear, all the way down to the hosiery for her legs. He even told them the length of her bath. Then, without so much as a nod to her, he dismissed them all with a wave of his hand before sauntering off in the opposite direction.
Chapter 12
Dag Racho was an exacting taskmaster. He spent hours with her, training her in history, deportment, statecraft, dragon care, and etiquette—everything and anything that would make her fit to stand by his side. That was his plan, of course, and the reason he had not simply killed her outright: he needed a female dragonmate. He spoke of their union frequently, of their future children, and of the dragon babies he would have under his control. Eventually, he claimed, he would lead an army of dragons to conquer the neighboring countries, which would finally make Ragona safe. That is what he said, and she could tell he believed it. Meanwhile, she struggled to hide her revulsion. More war? More soldiers? More dragons pouring destruction down on their neighbors? How could that possibly make anyone more safe?
Perhaps Kiril had the right of it. Perhaps all dragons had to be destroyed so that everyone would live in peace. And yet, that thought would not sit well either. Her egg was not evil; she was sure of that. And the Copper was definitely more than an achingly sad pet dog. Dragons were something apart from anything she had thought before. Something important. She just didn't know what.
How she longed for someone to discuss this with. She wished for a person who had seen more than she had read, who knew the court inside and out, and could give her new insight. And if he had large hands and a kind heart, if he risked everything to protect her, then all the better. In short, she ached for Kiril, the man she had ordered killed.
She still thought he was a liar and a cad—perhaps. If she allowed herself to believe he'd been true to her, guilt would overwhelm her. Had she really ordered his death in a fit of wounded petulance? What if Kiril's lies had been exactly what Sabina said: the only way to survive in Ragona? It made sense. If her last days were anything to judge by, Dag Racho did have absolute control over everything. He had brought her to witness the death of many prisoners. Indeed, it was a regular court event and the Copper's only source of food: men, women and children, eaten alive with only Racho's word to say that they deserved it. He called them criminals, conspirators, and traitors, and no one dared gainsay him.
What if Kiril had been forced into his lies to her? What if his deception, his time with her, had all been prescribed by Dag Racho? Then he would have been as much a victim as the people eaten before her very eyes. And perhaps those other moments—the times when they laughed together or touched one another—perhaps those had been the only real thing allowed between them. And she had orde
red him killed.
As she turned her eyes away from the latest execution, Natiya vowed to never let emotion overcome her again. She would never again allow anyone—most especially Dag Racho—to manipulate her with such deadly consequences. She would never order anyone's death unless she had the weight of full evidence and a neutral party's assessment. It was the only way to be fair. And the only way to avoid the nightly travesties that Dag Racho visited on his "criminals."
So she vowed. And she mourned Kiril.
"Why do you watch that mountain?"
Natiya started, belatedly realizing that she had been once again staring at the mountain that crouched near the capital city. It wasn't all that unusual a sight. Behind her, the soldiers were cleaning up the last of the Copper's meal, the courtiers were disappearing as fast as possible, and she... she was staring out at a mountain. It wasn't even special. One need travel no more than a few delents to come to the beginning of the Clutching Mountains. The palace had an excellent view, of course, and Mount Rahot was the first of a long range that extended far to the north. And yet, night after night, she found herself staring not at the other peaks, but at Rahot's rounded top and irregular sides.
"Natiya?"
She flushed at the note of irritation in the Emperor's voice. After the Copper's meal, they began their nightly walk, a.k.a. interrogation. Matters of state had kept Dag Racho from being her instructor, and so he had delegated the task to various trusted servants. Until after dinner, that is, when they walked on the rooftop courtyard with his Copper, and the Emperor began quizzing her on what she had learned and how she had learned it. Until he ran out of questions or she grew tired—which she did more often of late—and they fell into silence. During this last silence, her gaze had once again been drawn to the mountain.
"It is... compelling somehow. I don't know why," she admitted.
"Think on it," he urged. "Tell me what you guess."
She stared at it, and began rattling off the facts she knew, just as he had taught her. "It is where you garrison your army," she said slowly. "It took many years to delve deep inside it to house your men." Or so she had been told. Then she frowned. "We are not at war, Emperor. Why do you keep such a large army?"
"We most certainly are at war. We fight thieves, brigands and all manner of criminals. Do you think a man could simply walk to market with his wares if the soldiers did not keep the peace? Do you think a girl could work her family's field without being snatched from beneath their very eyes? There are enemies everywhere, Natiya. Do not think they don't exist simply because my army keeps them in check."
"Ah, yes, the Gambis," she said, twisting to look at him more fully. "And the Sihotts. I understand they have made an alliance with the Gambis against you."
Far from being surprised by her recently learned knowledge, he actually smiled, pleased with her question. "Yes, they are dangerous barbarians, even more so now that their alliance has made them bold. Danger threatens from all sides, and I require more and more troops to defend our glorious country."
Natiya nodded, wondering if what he said was true, or if the truth was that it would take a larger army to conquer surrounding territories and the barbarians were merely defending themselves. Before she could think of a way to ask, he had shifted her body back toward the mountain.
"Do not change the topic, Natiya. Tell me what you see."
She looked again, trying to sense something with her dragon-enhanced abilities. What she saw was the mountain's relatively flat construction, its uneven sides, and the lack of sharp, jagged points so common among the Clutching Mountains.
"You built it," she breathed suddenly. "You constructed that mountain to house your army."
He grinned, nodding at her. "I took material from the Clutching Mountains, making sure it was rich in demoa metal." The obscuring metal that confused dragon senses.
"But why?" she asked.
"For you, of course!" Then he touched her again, caressing her dragon egg as he did so often now. "When you are dragonborn, you will understand how far ahead you can see and think. We are a long-lived race, you know."
"But it must have taken cycles to build. That makes no sense"
"Of course it does!" he snapped, but then he moderated his tone. "Can you not feel it? The pull, even now, of that mountain?"
She closed her eyes again, trying to block out the Copper behind them, the Emperor's hand on her belly, even the twisting antics of the dragon egg inside her. And then she felt the whisper, the draw, perhaps even the need to rest in the caves. In obscurity.
"We crave it, you know—the shield that demoa metal gives us." He linked her arm in his, drawing her away from his dragon. "It is only natural. The hatching is our most vulnerable time. Of course we would want to hide from everyone, even other dragons, at such a time."
Natiya sighed, knowing what he said made sense; and yet some part of her objected. Some part of her disliked the animosity he suggested. "Wasn't there ever a time when dragons protected one another? Instead of fighting?"
He laughed, long and hard. "Perhaps," he finally conceded, after he had wiped the tears of humor from his eyes. "But that was many generations ago. Long before my time even, when dragons existed apart from men—before the dragon bond was discovered and the first dragonborn became a dragonlord."
She stopped, turning to look at him. "A dragon can live unbonded? But how do they incubate? How do they hatch?"
He shrugged. "They can survive unbonded if lovingly tended by a parent. If the eggs are kept warm and protected from predators." He shook his head. "But remember, they are little more than large lizards with wings, creatures without thought or logic unless ruled by us. They would pillage unmercifully for food, laying waste with their fire and consuming whatever lived. It would indeed be a dangerous, ugly world if dragons were allowed to live uncontrolled. This is the better way, with a man ordering their thoughts."
She nodded, somehow saddened by his statement, but she could not deny the truth. Despite its intelligence, her egg had been childishly simple—reflecting whatever it was told, existing only to learn and absorb and act without thought or discrimination. Many times she felt the urges of the egg: primal forces demanding food or comfort or shelter no matter the cost. The very thought of a creature the size of Dag Racho's Copper acting without restraint made her shiver in horror.
She said, "I am very glad the unbonded dragons have all died out."
He didn't answer, and for a moment she wondered if she caught a flash of fear in his eyes. Her own egg—the Golden Queen—was by all reports the last egg in all the world. Even Kiril had confirmed it. But what if they were wrong? What if there were other dragons elsewhere, terrorizing good people in some far-off land? The very thought was chilling.
"Do you dream at night?"
Natiya started, once again aware that her thoughts had been wandering. She daydreamed so often now, it was becoming a serious irritation, especially for someone usually quite clear in her thoughts and direction. "Of course I dream," she answered, still flustered. "I thought everyone did."
"No," he bit out, irritation lacing his tone. "At night—here—are your dreams... vivid?"
She chewed her lip, once again looking away. She had indeed been dreaming strange things at night. Images filled with packs of dragons in flight, fire filling the sky as they fought or played or mated—she was never sure which. She often woke shaking and confused.
"You have been dreaming!" he accused.
She nodded. "I thought it was merely the approach of the hatching. The images are always of dragons, and so confused. I can never make sense of them."
He hunkered down, hunching his shoulders as he leaned against the stone wall. She mimicked his motion, tilting her head to hear his lowered voice. "I think they are talking to one another, at night when we sleep," he said.
She frowned, turning to face the Emperor directly. "Who?"
"My Copper. Your Queen. They talk at night. In ways men do not."
She f
rowned, trying to assess the possibility. The egg certainly communicated with her through her thoughts; but she had not believed it could speak this way to other creatures. To the Copper? The very thought terrified her. It would mean she had no secrets from the Emperor, for everything his dragon knew, surely Dag Racho knew as well. But one look at his face told her perhaps that was not true. Perhaps his dragon kept secrets even from him.
"If what you say is true," she began carefully, "then that is all to the good, is it not? No doubt your Copper is merely instructing my Queen on life and the human world. Just as you are instructing me."
He grimaced. "Perhaps."
She stared at him, trying unsuccessfully to read his mood. "What exactly do you fear?"
He straightened abruptly at her badly phrased question. "I fear nothing!"
Natiya looked away, sighing silently to herself. Of all the things the Emperor had told her, this was the most obvious falsehood. Dag Racho not only feared, he feared everything. Even his most trusted servants—the ones given the task to instruct her—were under constant scrutiny. Indeed, she sometimes wondered if her nightly interrogation was as much a way to spy on them as to see if she had learned her lessons.
And every person she met, including many she had not yet seen, came with a list of strengths and weaknesses, threats and exploitable assets. He would brief her on these things the night before she met anyone. To Dag Racho, no one was simply who they appeared. They were all harboring treasonous thoughts; they all looked for an opportunity to destroy what he had built. And why? Greed or stupidity ranked top amongst his explanations. They simply did not understand what he was doing, did not see the glory and prosperity he was bringing to the country. Or if they did, they did not care but would rather hog the glory, the wealth or the power to themselves. Time and time again the Emperor told her stories of how he had been betrayed by those closest to him. And so now he watched constantly, never at ease, always suspicious. But she'd never thought he would doubt his own dragon.