She’s making him prove himself after refusing her before. Tressa didn’t forgive. Shamino had to be a very nice catch for her to swallow her pride and court him now. But she’d demand perfection. She’d demand that the whole world know it, too.
Meanwhile, the tasks at the Quarters still needed to be done. I stepped into one of my favorite rooms in the Quarters: Sylvia’s herbary.
Sunlight streamed through one of the rare windows of the Kyer. Plants of all kinds grew on every surface: in pots on the floor, in trays on shelves and tables, on lattices up the walls. Drying plants made a patchy ceiling of greens and browns and fading colors. No stone could be seen anywhere except occasional spots on the floor, and the air smelled of earth and life…
But no longer home. Mettalise’s room, sulfur mixed with sunlight and heat, that was home to me now.
“I’m here for the potions,” I told Sylvia. She stood at the table, busy. An illness had been spreading through the Kyer, and no one enjoyed a dragon with a cold—especially elderly bored dragons with a cold.
“You are here?” Sylvia threw down the flowers she’d been tying. “You. Not Shamino.”
I cringed, though her instant fury wasn’t at me. “He left a note saying I’m to deliver them.”
“And I suppose he expects you to give each dragon an examination as well?” She picked up the bunch, fumbled with the tie, swore. “They can develop lung infections just like we can, or a clog to the fire chamber—wind and smoke, this cursed string—”
“Here.” My younger fingers knotted the string easily. I handed her the flowers.
“And where is the apprentice he promised? I could die any day, but does he care?”
“I’m sure, once things calm down—”
“Don’t you go making excuses for him!” Sylvia waved the bundle in my face, and pungent perfume wafted my hair. “I courted once, even had a husband back in the day. Shamino is a fool. People are on their best behavior while they court. If Tressa’s making him follow dance steps now, what will it be like in five years? With children? I promise, she’ll demand his presence in Dragonsridge every festival, every major event, every fortnight! But will he listen?”
I rested my elbows on the table and fingered some leaves. She shooed me away when they crumbled under my touch.
“Merram will step in if it gets bad,” I said.
“It shouldn’t need to get that far, because Shamino should marry a nice girl from the Kyer, let Dragonsridge burn in fire.” She gave me a pointed look.
“Potions?”
She scowled and thumbed over her shoulder. “Brown jugs. Dragons need to take them with a quarter trough, and they’ll be drowsy after.”
I used my Gift to raise the flat holding them—there was no way I could lift eight jugs of liquid at once.
Seeing my Gift only made Sylvia scowl more. I knew she’d rather administer the potions in Shamino’s absence, but her knees couldn’t walk all over the Kyer, even with Telekinesis carrying for her.
He’ll find her an apprentice as soon as this business with Tressa is settled, I told myself. Sourness curdled in my stomach.
I began my deliveries.
*Mmm. More unpleasantness?* came the smooth voice of Mettalise in my head.
I’d learned telepathic speech and blocking, though I rarely raised the barrier to my emotions. I told Mettalise what Sylvia had said. Agitation from my dragon prickled at my neck like an itchy scarf.
*Sylvia’s right,* Mettalise said. *He can’t ignore his duties like this. You need to confront him.*
*Right,* I said. *Because that’s worked so well for everyone else. One moment.*
I pulled a bell cord and a haggard mage opened the door. I handed over a potion, gave him instructions, and checked the next address on my list.
*Besides,* I said as I resumed walking, *I won’t torture both of us with that conversation.*
*No, no. I felt that! Shamino being an idiot is not your fault. No one made him court Tressa.* A wave of pensiveness. *Raul is worried.*
I delivered another potion. *He doesn’t like Tressa?*
*Hates her. He and Shamino are barely speaking. Worse, Raul says when Shamino does let him in, his thoughts and emotions feel fuzzy.*
*Fuzzy?*
*That’s the best Raul can describe it.*
I nibbled my lower lip. Once, Shamino had defied his father, Tressa’s family, and tradition for a childhood crush. He had renounced his inheritance in favor of dragons in front of the entire court. He had protested Merram’s putting me in the Quarters… Bending to Tressa’s whims was not like him.
Especially when there were sick dragons to tend.
I paused at the last name on the list: Maolmuire. I still couldn’t believe he and Jerroth had been bonded together for weeks. Maolmuire did not strike me as the comforting sort, but maybe bonding with the dragon had taken some of the sting from losing Tressa.
At the least, Maolmuire with a cold had to be a distraction.
I rang the bell twice before Jerroth answered the door. I barely recognized him. An uneven beard grew on his chin. His black clothing looked as if he’d worn it for days. Dark shadows bruised his eyes, and he stared at me blearily.
“Adara?”
I held up the jug with both hands. “I brought Maolmuire’s potion.”
He stared at it as if he’d never seen a giant bottle of medicine before. Maybe he hadn’t. “Right.”
I hesitated. Jerroth and I had never been true friends. Yet, he’d always been kind. “Um… is there anything I can do?”
He blinked, then hefted the bottle. “I pour it down his throat, right?”
“I mean for you.”
The bruises under his eyes darkened. “Come in?”
Jerroth had decorated his apartment in a stark, orderly fashion. But dirty plates sat on the floor, and a bottle of wine had spilled and left a large, sticky sheen on the bare rock. The room—and Jerroth—smelled sour and unwashed.
Should he be this devastated? I always suspected Jerroth’s love of Tressa had been true. I loved Shamino, however, and I had continued to bathe. I knew from the beginning we’d never be together. Maybe that’s the difference.
Jerroth picked a wine-stained blanket off the sofa. He himself didn’t bother to clear a chair before sitting in it.
“She’s gone,” he said, almost as if to himself. He didn’t look at me. He clutched the wooden armrests of his chair. “No warning, just a note goodbye.”
“She didn’t tell you in person?” That seemed cruel. “I feared she never loved you, but surely—”
“No, Tressa liked me. I knew she never loved me, but I’m—” He took a shaky breath. “She doesn’t love him, at least. As long as there’s no love, I have a chance.”
If Paige’s prediction was correct, Jerroth only had a week before Shamino… proposed. I doubted Tressa wanted a long engagement.
Jerroth’s eyes suddenly focused, though they still had a feverish quality to them. “You. You’re the answer. If you steal him away, it’ll give me enough time—”
“I can’t ‘steal’ anything from Tressa.”
“Yes, you could, if I coach you.” He jumped to his feet and began to pace, stepping over dishes. “You’re lowborn, but no one can complain—much—about him choosing a blue. And he’s unconventional enough to ignore the rest. He has to like you, he let you in the Quarters—he took you to the theater! If you could just—”
“Jerroth, I—”
“Please!” He dropped to his knees before me and took my hands. Mettalise perked with curiosity at my surprise, so I blocked both her thoughts and my emotions. “Adara, please, lure him away long enough for me to become worthy of her.”
He doesn’t realize that I love Shamino. Nor that Shamino had once loved me. I tried to tug my hands out of his. “If Tressa is going to leave so easily, she’s not worth it.”
Jerroth dropped my hands in disgust. “You never understand. It’s about power, it always has been. I just can’t�
��war takes too long, the Dragonmaster’s young, I can’t find a way—” He broke off and closed his eyes. “Why couldn’t Shamino go on as the dishonored Seneschal? Why did he join the Game?”
A vase rose into the air, and then a painting in its frame. Jerroth was so distracted by his own obsession, he wasn’t in control of his magic.
I gripped his shoulders. “Calm down. You need to let her go. I know it feels hopeless, but trust me, you have to push on. Like that dragon you convinced to go to battle.”
The objects clattered to the ground. So did he. “I love her, and oh, First One, he’s right. Maolmuire’s right. It’s the only way.”
He began rocking back and forth. Cautiously, I put my arms around him and held him while he cried. Strong, formal, rule-obsessed Jerroth… broken.
He and I, in that moment, were the same. Almost.
Finally, he wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be strong. Father’d be ashamed…”
How old had he been when he’d taken control of the county? To inherit while young… Jerroth always spoke with admiration for his father, and I suspected his whole life he’d been trying to please the dead man. Yet the rules of propriety and restraint hadn’t won him the girl of his dreams.
“I won’t tell,” I said softly.
“Thank you.”
After I left, I lingered in the hallway rather than return to the Quarters with the empty flat. Something had to change. I couldn’t confront Shamino, I just couldn’t, but…
No one has talked to Tressa.
I went to visit my former friend.
Chapter Thirty
“Adara. What a surprise.” Tressa’s smile told me it wasn’t a pleasant one. “What do you want.”
“A few minutes, if you’d be so kind.” Behind my back, I twisted my fingers together, apart, together.
Her eyes roved over my tattered Quarters clothing and her nose wrinkled. “Of course.”
I’d been to her rooms before, but they still overwhelmed me. Thick black rugs; intricate tapestries of ladies and lords dancing; plush, wine-colored upholstery. Elegance and luxury dripped from every inch. Tressa swept before me, her full skirts swishing, and she rang a little bell on a table. A woman dressed nearly as well as Tressa appeared from the servant’s room.
“Tea,” Tressa ordered.
Without a word, the woman fetched a tea set from the corner and laid it out on a table. She disappeared to the kitchen and returned with a teapot full of water and a plate of sweets.
Watching the woman, I thought of Mother. Had she been like that? Silent, invisible, busy. In my memory, Mother laughed and told stories with a sparkle in her eyes. She’d never looked at the ground when taking orders for her seamstress business, but instead looked her customers in the eye. She must have been completely conflicted, trading luxury and meekness for poverty and freedom.
Tressa cleared her throat and I jumped. “Fascinating, mmm? A personal servant? I don’t suppose you’ve ever had one.”
I took the hard, embroidered chair she gestured to and tried not to twitch from nerves. Tressa draped herself in another chair, elegant and nonchalant. It amazed me that either of us had thought we could be friends.
“Would you do the honors?” At my confusion, Tressa smiled. A predatory smile. “Serve the tea?”
No. Please, First One, she cannot know.
“Heat the water?” Tressa suggested.
Silently I picked up the pot, using a tiny speck of Gift to warm the water within. Thankfully the maid had filled the basket with leaves… but I didn’t know how long it took tea to steep. My tutor had only mentioned tea in passing. I hadn’t dared to ask. All nobles, high and low, knew the ritual.
Tressa handed me a plate laden with candied flowers. “You wish to talk. Talk.”
I licked my lips, which didn’t help because my mouth was so very dry. “I just saw Jerroth.”
“Jerroth?” An arched eyebrow. “You want to speak of Jerroth?”
I can do this for him. I leaned forward in the beautiful, hard chair. “He’s heartbroken. Have you seen him?”
She laughed. Laughed. “Poor fool. Surely he didn’t whine to you? He’s a better man than that.”
“He’s devastated,” I said, shocked at how easily she dismissed him. “He hasn’t slept, he’s drinking, he’s half-crazed. He adores you, Tressa. How can you throw his love away?”
“Love. Naive, romantic Adara. You’ve always seen the world so… differently.”
My twitchiness worsened. I popped a candied petal in my mouth to calm myself. It melted on my tongue, much too sweet.
“Tsk. You should wait for the tea. The combination is delightful.” She poured two cups. “When we met, my heart ached for you, such a pitiful but endearing thing. I put so much into our friendship. Then you insulted me and allied with that Westwood.”
I accepted the cup from her. “I told you I was sorry.”
“A week later! The war is an insufficient excuse. Maybe a day or two, but a week?” Every word she spoke, tense and angry. “Then, you apologized through a note! Prettily written, granted, but the rules are simple. Public insult, public apology. You don’t know how to do anything.”
With a deliberate motion, Tressa floated three candied petals in her tea. The steaming liquid melted the sugar, and they dissolved into nothing.
The blood drained from my face, my hands, my heart.
“Now, I have some words for you.” She took a serene sip. “I need Shamino devoted to me, but your name keeps coming up. That will not do.”
“I’m not trying to steal him away,” I said, rigid with terror.
She laughed. “You? Steal a man from me? The problem is, I became necessary to Shamino too late. He fell for a nobody back when he himself was a nobody.”
I tried to get angry, to use emotions as a shield, but fear choked me instead.
“Here’s what you’re going to do. You are going to leave the Dragon Quarters.”
“I can’t.” At her narrowing eyes, I added, “It’s not my choice! The Dragonmaster put me there.”
“Back when you were a trainee,” she said. “He can’t protest if his precious blue Dragon Mage wishes to join him at war. Until the Dragonmaster approves your request, you’re going to make yourself as scarce as possible. I need Shamino fully focused on our future.”
“Tressa, please.” I gestured to the hallway. “Jerroth loves you. He has land, money, respect—”
“If I were to explain the differences between Shamino and Jerroth, we’d be here all day.” Tressa set her cup on the table and tea sloshed into the saucer. “I have waited years for this opportunity. I will not have it ruined by a halfblood!”
Hearing her say it aloud was ten times worse than suspecting she knew. My terror tried to shift into panic, but I gripped my teacup harder and tried to picture a lake. The delicate handle cracked. “I can’t control Shamino’s feelings. He’s doing everything you’re asking.”
“He’s fighting me every minute.”
“Then maybe you should choose someone who wants you.”
Tressa inhaled and I instantly regretted my words. Quick as lightning, she grabbed my wrist. The teacup struck the chair’s arm, shattering and soaking the embroidered roses to black.
“You will ask the Dragonmaster for permission to join him, and you will keep your distance from Shamino until then.” Her thumb dug into the tender flesh between my wrist bones. “If you dare try to ruin me, I will tell Shamino your secret. Your greatest friend will know you as the deceiver you are. And if there is anything Shamino hates more, it is those who pretend to be what they are not.”
Her words eclipsed the pain in my wrist. She was right. Shamino hated his father partly because he pretended to be a loving, perfect parent. The fiancée who lied about her love had caused him to hate all women for years. If Shamino knew about all my lies, he’d hate me, too. Forever.
“Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes,” I said. It came out as a whim
per. “Yes!”
“Good.” She tossed my wrist away, and I cradled the red and purple flesh. “Now go.”
I fled.
The letter did not take long to write. Zoland, after all, had planted the idea long before Tressa forced it on me. To ensure she couldn’t find fault, I asked an enthusiastic Zoland to enclose his support with my request. With his joy came an offer of extra practice; extra practice meant less time for the Quarters.
This is what Merram wanted all along. His blue, fighting in the war. There was no need for shame. Or loathing, of myself or Tressa. Once I was in the Dragonmaster’s presence, I could alert him to Tressa’s threat. Even more, I could show him Krysta’s letters and finally learn the truth. On the front, I’d find my place.
I sent the request by horse.
The second week of courtship passed—without Paige’s prediction coming true. I distracted myself by focusing on my magic lessons and on the kits.
“Ow! Don’t throw so hard!” I said to the golden kit. His mother had named him Pelor, and he’d already outgrown me.
I tossed the ball back. His sister, simply named Rose, jumped high enough to snatch it away. With a screech of indignation, her brother ran after her. I laughed as they wrestled, chased, and wrestled again.
“They’re getting big,” came Shamino’s voice.
My amusement died. I hadn’t seen him in days. The skin under his eyes still seemed bruised; his color, pale. He was too gaunt. Too hollow.
“May I watch with you?” he asked, gesturing to a pair of seats along the wall of the nursery.
If Tressa finds out… Inside I trembled, but I still said yes. For long moments we didn’t speak as the kits tackled each other and scrabbled for the ball.
“I miss them,” he whispered. As he said it, he looked at me.
My chest tightened. I took care to nod at the kits. “Nothing’s kept you from them. They’re always here.”
“Yeah. They are.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been neglecting… everything. But it’ll be over soon. Everything will be normal.”
Blue Fire Page 20