Lucy kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t sure whether she would get herself, or Jocelyn, or even Elddreki in trouble if she admitted that Joss had told her all of this. She had hardly known whether to believe that so many creatures of legend—unicorns, werewolves, even mermaids—had been the result of dragons forfeiting their power to regular animals.
“We were sure we had eradicated them,” Qadir said. “We believed that no dragon would again be lost enough to undertake such an act. We certainly never imagined that any of our kind would be so foolish as to give their magic to a human.” Qadir’s tail twitched ever so slightly. “But there was much we didn’t see,” he went on, his tone as calm as ever. “It seems our farsight is more limited than we imagined.”
He looked down at her, his gaze burning in its strength in spite of the distance created by his immense size.
“We became aware of events only after they had transpired. I was led to believe that your father had rendered us a service in removing the human who had been tainted by the stolen magic. But I recently visited his mind to express my gratitude, and to his credit he did not attempt to maintain the deception.” The dragon leaned his head down slightly as he studied Lucy with discomfiting focus. “Although he did not seem eager to reveal that you had in fact been the one to right the wrong in question.”
“No.” Lucy found her voice at last. “I can imagine.” And she certainly could imagine her father’s reluctance to turn the attention of this terrifying beast toward his daughter. She had never felt so grateful for his protectiveness, although she had to agree that he would not have been wise to attempt to lie to Qadir about what had actually happened.
“Well,” said Qadir, as if closing the matter. “Whatever his hesitations, the fact remains. You did us a service, and as I said, I am grateful. I will keep my eye on you.”
“Keep your eye on me?” Lucy repeated, bewildered and a little intimidated. “How would you do that?”
“Not all dragons can exercise their farsight across such a distance, it is true,” Qadir said, apparently acknowledging a point Lucy hadn’t realized she’d made. “But I can. It has not been my custom to watch the activities of other kingdoms beyond Kyona. And I do not mean to suggest that I will watch you constantly.” He made an alarming guttural noise that seemed to be a chuckle. “Far from it. But I have an interest in you now, and your line. I will follow the journey of your life loosely with my farsight.”
Lucy just blinked, unsure what to make of any of it. It was a relief that he wouldn’t be watching her all the time, since apparently that was something dragons could do. His talk of her line, and the journey of her life, made her think it might be another decade before he thought to check in on her. Which was fine with her.
“Thank you?” she said at last, the words coming out like a question.
Qadir inclined his head in a stately gesture. Lucy dipped her own head, feeling that a curtsy would be out of place, and when she raised it, the dragon was somehow just gone. In fact, so were the mountains. She looked around in confusion, the gloom pressing against her eyes more every second until she couldn’t see a thing. Then, all at once, she found herself awake in her makeshift accommodation on the edge of the jungle, taking great unsteady gulps of air as she tried to return to reality.
Chapter Sixteen
Lucy woke to sounds of bustle. At first she thought it was still the middle of the night, as it had been when she had woken from her astonishing vision of Qadir. But despite it still being dark outside, there was no mistaking the sounds of the camp being packed up.
She hastily readied herself, trying to remember if Rasad had said anything the day before about leaving before sunrise. Perhaps he had mentioned it after she had retired for the night.
She pushed out of her tent to find the other North Landers already assembled, looking as groggy as she felt. Rasad’s men, however, were already in full swing. Lucy had to admire their efficiency as they reduced her night’s accommodation to a bundle of poles and canvas within minutes.
“How was your night?” Jocelyn asked, stifling a yawn as they watched the approach of the servant who was bringing their horses over.
“Not very restful,” Lucy responded.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“No, it wasn’t that,” said Lucy slowly, not meeting her friend’s eye. She wasn’t sure how much to tell. “I had…a dream.”
“A dream?” Jocelyn repeated. Lucy’s tone had clearly caught her interest. “What kind of a dream?”
Lucy glanced at the others, standing in a clump nearby. No one seemed to be listening in, but she lowered her voice anyway. “Actually, it was more like a vision. I mean, it was real. I spoke to the dragon-ruler. He sort of…called me somehow. To the mountains.” The words came out in a rush, and the relief of having them out was immediate. It helped that although Jocelyn’s eyes were wide and her mouth was hanging open, she didn’t question Lucy’s sanity.
“The dragon-ruler called you in your dream? But…why?”
“He wanted to thank me, apparently,” said Lucy dryly.
“Thank you for what?” Jocelyn still looked stunned, and her whisper was growing a little too loud for Lucy’s liking.
“Shh,” she hissed, glancing around. It was one thing for the others to overhear, but the last thing she wanted was for Rasad to find out what she’d done. “He wanted to thank me for…you know…getting rid of Scanlon.”
She said the name so quietly that Jocelyn probably couldn’t hear, but she would know what Lucy meant anyway. For a long moment the princess was silent, her expression thoughtful.
“Of course,” she said at last. “The dragons feel strongly about eliminating any creatures who’ve received forfeited dragon magic.” Her tone turned rueful. “One almost fried me once, thinking that my,” her voice dropped to a mere breath as she also glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, “my power was the result of a dragon killing itself.” She grimaced. “They call such creatures abominations.”
“Yes, Qadir said that,” Lucy said quickly.
The horses had arrived, and Kincaid started toward them with an offer to help boost his wife and her friend into their saddles. Jocelyn waved him away impatiently, leaning closer to hear Lucy’s words. Kincaid retreated without complaint, but with a curious glance that convinced Lucy he would be interrogating his wife for details later. She supposed Jocelyn would tell him all about it. There was no real reason why she shouldn’t, but the thought still made Lucy uncomfortable.
“Anyway,” she said hastily, relieving a helpful servant of her horse’s reins and waiting until he had retreated to continue. “I don’t know anything about forfeited dragon magic, but I have no problem calling Scanlon an abomination. He earned that title the moment he held a knife to my ten-year-old brother’s throat.”
“Can I assist you?”
Rasad’s smooth voice made Lucy jump, her heart racing more erratically than it had during her encounter with the dragon-ruler. She turned, noting with dismay that he was standing much closer than she had realized, unnoticed in the darkness. How much had he heard?
If he had caught her mention of dragons, or magic, or her dead uncle, he gave no indication of it. Lucy accepted his offer of assistance in getting into the saddle without comment, too mortified to find words. Why was he always nearby at inconvenient moments?
It helped restore her poise when she noticed, once settled in the saddle, that Eamon was glowering at the Thoranian man who had dared to give Lucy his help. She made no effort to hide it as she rolled her eyes. Eamon never failed to make a fool of himself when Rasad was around, but that wasn’t Lucy’s problem.
“I hope you will permit me to ride beside you again, Luciana,” said Rasad, mounting quickly into the saddle of his own horse. “I would dearly love to see your reaction when we reach Thirl.”
“Of course,” said Lucy, a little shyly. “I would be honored.” And she was honored by the ongoing attention.
She sent Jocelyn a glance, t
rying to communicate without words that they would have to finish their conversation later. For some reason the princess looked troubled, but gave a curt nod before turning toward her husband, who had once again approached her.
Lucy watched them for a moment, trying not to feel jealous. It must be nice to be in their position. They were happy together, and their relationship was uncomplicated. Both families—both kingdoms—had been equally pleased with the marriage and the alliance it represented. It was hard for Jocelyn to leave her home kingdom, of course, but it was surely worth it to be so happy, and to have someone beside her who looked at her the way Kincaid did.
Lucy pulled her gaze forward with an effort. Her eyes slid over Eamon, who was still frowning in an unfriendly way, and landed on Rasad. He was watching her with a faint smile, the admiration clear on his face.
“You look altogether too lovely to have only just woken,” he said softly, the abrupt compliment taking her by surprise.
She felt her cheeks heat slightly, but she didn’t know if he’d be able to tell in the low light. “You flatter me,” she said awkwardly.
He smiled. “Not at all.” But he seemed to read her discomfort, and he deftly turned the conversation to lighter topics as they set off, this time leading the cavalcade.
They crossed the river by way of a broad bridge, constructed from timber that no doubt came from the jungle around them. The first hints of light began to streak across the sky as they reached the other side. Despite the Thoranian man’s casual conversation, Lucy felt strange to be leading the group by his side.
But as the landscape lightened, she quickly became distracted by her surroundings. On the other side of the river, the jungle fell away, stretching out to the north and south, but leaving a clear path due east. Lucy could see that this ground had not been cleared by human hands. It was a natural end to the trees, and she felt herself breathing more freely, in spite of the continued humidity.
In the distance, she could see some kind of mountain range, the peaks silhouetted against the growing light. They hadn’t been riding long, and the sun still hadn’t fully risen, when she realized that the dark mass immediately in front of her was not a lone mountain standing apart from the others, as she had supposed. It was a city.
For a moment she was bewildered, wondering why they hadn’t just pushed on the night before if they really were so very close to the capital. But then the sun crested the distant peaks, and all other thoughts fled from her mind.
Rasad reached over and stopped her horse with a hand on the bridle, but Lucy hardly noticed. She gasped audibly at the sight before her as the rising sun appeared as if by design above the glittering towers of Thirl.
A quick glance at Rasad, who wore a very satisfied expression, suggested that the timing of their approach was indeed by design. But her eyes quickly turned back to the city in front of them.
She had assumed that Thirl would be similar to Balenol’s capital in design and feel. But she had been mistaken. It wasn’t made of dour stone like Nohl, or even the neat, pleasant cobblestones of Kyona’s capital city. It was constructed of a pale, golden substance, with a reddish hue brought out by the rays of the climbing sun.
“It’s sandstone,” Rasad said helpfully, as though reading her thoughts. “Quarried from our own eastern regions.”
Lucy just nodded, her attention still riveted on the panorama coming into focus, colorless silhouettes painted gradually in golden and red as the light of the new day washed over the kingdom.
The buildings were square and flat-roofed, but here and there lattice work could be seen rising from some of the grander dwellings, the sun glowing through the carving. And the sunlight did more than glow. The more elaborate structures sparkled, their edges and corners glinting like stars that had disobeyed the order to fade with the advent of the sun. Catches of brighter color even shot out here and there, purple and blue and red. Nowhere more impressively than on the palace, which rose majestically above the rest of the city, occupying what seemed to be a slight natural rise at the center of the capital.
“We quarry more than just sandstone in the east.” Rasad’s quiet voice broke in on her amazement. Despite the fact that they were still on horseback, he seemed impossibly close. “Have you heard of the Jeweled Peaks?”
Lucy shook her head mutely.
“One day I will take you there,” Rasad promised, and the certainty in his voice made Lucy’s stomach flop strangely. “Thorania is rich in natural beauty, and natural wealth. We mine many precious gems here, and not all of them get exported across the sea.” He smiled in satisfaction. “Some of them grace our capital.”
“I can see why you wanted to wait until sunrise to approach Thirl,” said Lucy at last. “It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” It was true. The vista was dazzling in its brilliance.
“It would certainly be a waste for your first glimpse of our city to be in the dead of night,” agreed Rasad with a smile. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I’m sure anyone would,” said Lucy politely, glancing behind her as she spoke to test her words. The others did look impressed, their eyes as wide as Lucy’s had been. But while Jocelyn, Kincaid, and Miles were all staring unblinkingly at Thirl, she noticed that both Eamon and Cody were watching her instead.
There was a slight crease between Cody’s eyebrows that told her he was concerned, although she wasn’t sure about what. Her eyes slid involuntarily to Eamon, and their gazes locked for a moment. She looked away quickly, flushing slightly. There was something unsettling about his expression, and she couldn’t immediately identify what it was.
“Come,” said Rasad, the invitation laced with the tiniest hint of command. Lucy had the impression that he was so used to giving directions that he wouldn’t know how to stop if he wanted to.
She urged her horse forward obediently, following the Thoranian toward the broad wooden gate that was just being opened in readiness for the new day. It was only as they drew close to the gate that her eyes were drawn to another feature of the landscape, away to the south.
Not far from the capital, a large tent city appeared, bustling with activity in the early morning. Lucy squinted at it in the growing light. The men moving purposefully through it looked like soldiers.
There was no time to do more than take note of the encampment before they reached the gates. The guards sprang to attention as they passed through, saluting Rasad as though he was royalty. He acknowledged the gesture with a dip of his head that was every bit as regal as the self-assured grace with which King Giles carried himself. She noticed that Rasad was sitting straighter in his saddle, his indefinable quality of confidence stronger than ever now that he was back in his own kingdom.
The thought of Rasad’s influence made Lucy uneasy for reasons she couldn’t articulate. The sensation made her think again of Eamon’s expression as he had watched her take in the beautiful city of Thirl. Suddenly it hit her what had seemed strange about the look. She had become used to seeing him scowl every time he looked at Rasad, but in that moment he hadn’t been glowering at the older man at all. He had been looking at Lucy, and there had been no anger or resentment on his face. Just the same concern that etched Cody’s brow.
She found herself frowning, and she pushed the thought from her mind. She wanted to focus on this incredible new place, not worry about what—or who—was behind her.
They rode through the streets of Thirl with all the air of a parade. The city was still waking, but small crowds gathered to gawk at their progress. A lot of eyes were directed to Lucy, riding alongside Rasad, and she felt more conspicuous than ever. People bobbed their heads to the Thoranian man, and took in the rest of the group furtively. It was easy to see that it was a much more prosperous city than Nohl, but there was also an edge of caution to the crowd’s behavior that Lucy couldn’t help but notice.
Still, it was hard to find fault when surrounded by such new and beautiful sights. The first flush of dawn had passed, but even in the stea
dier light, the buildings glowed and sparkled enchantingly.
Markets were starting to operate, and a barrage of smells assaulted Lucy’s nose. She turned her head in the direction of one of these groups of stalls, trying to identify the unfamiliar scents.
“Thorania is also famous for its spices,” Rasad offered, smiling as he watched her drink it all in. “We have vast spice fields in the southeast.”
“That I did know,” she said with a smile. “We use Thoranian spices in Kyona. But obviously not all of them, because I’m smelling some I’m sure I’ve never come across before.”
“Very likely,” Rasad agreed. “Some of our delicacies are an acquired taste.”
They rode on in silence, Lucy’s attention fully captivated by the sights and sounds around her. The morning bustle was in full swing now, and it was fascinating to witness. The people were similar in appearance to the Balenans—to Lucy herself—but their manner was different, more open, less suspicious. Perhaps because it was more rich in natural resources, Thorania seemed to have built its prosperity without resorting to slave labor, and therefore had suffered no decline when Kyona was restored to its own position of power.
People darted out of the way of their group, the wary glances they threw toward the travelers seeming out of place when contrasted with the general cheerfulness of the crowds. Perhaps they were suspicious of outsiders.
But they didn’t seem like a closed culture in the way Balenol did. Everywhere she looked, Lucy could see the truth of Rasad’s words, as she noted the greater variety in the people’s coloring. Some were almost as pale as Eamon, others darker than Lucy’s mother. Even their fashion was more diverse. At the start of their ride, the garments were simpler. But as they drew closer to the palace in the center of the city, the districts seemed to become more affluent, and Lucy took greater interest in the clothing.
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