“They’ve always been very unchangeable,” she replied. “Don’t worry. As soon as Tiber alters his vote, you’ll be the winner.” It was a matter of minutes before the hubbub of the attack in the ballroom died down and the Game was lost to her for good.
Emilia loved Chara but even after studying the aerodynamics of dragon wings and wind speed, she was a mediocre rider at best. She had no hope of winning the Race. As for the Truth, she had little enough experience with truth on a daily basis. On top of that, her studies had turned up no clues as to what constituted the final challenge. The Game had been her one real chance to shine, and she had lost because she’d misjudged the human heart.
“Emilia.” Lucian shut his eyes. “I don’t want to win this way.”
“Oh, Lucian. The emperors and empresses didn’t win because they wanted to.” She sighed. “They won because they had to.”
“Well.” Tiber looked to the three of them on the ground. His watery eyes glistened with an avaricious light. “If we have a draw, then I believe—”
“Your Grace.” Lord Sabel interrupted Tiber and approached Camilla. “Please scratch out my name from Lucian and write me in for Emilia of the Aurun.”
What? Emilia leaned forward so fast she nearly fell over.
Her parents went white. Alexander seized her arm. Emilia let him catch her in his embrace, while Lucian stood, his shock evident. And despite her sudden, incomprehensible joy, Lucian’s expression was still a blow to her heart.
“What?” he whispered.
“You sure you’re doing the right thing?” Tiber asked, scratching at his grizzled chin. Lord Sabel merely scribbled his name in Camilla’s book with an even hand.
“I don’t know how she maneuvered the pair of you, but it must have been an excellent bit of politicking.” Done, Lord Sabel looked at Emilia, a sad smile on his lips. “And she’s a good girl.”
When the Aurun siblings would spend winter holidays at Karthago, Lord Sabel had praised Emilia’s studies, her alphabetically organized collections of rocks; he’d encouraged her passion for antique languages, found books for her in his library; he’d pinched her cheek and lauded her talents, things that her own parents had never done.
Emilia buried her face fully against her brother’s shoulder, afraid she’d lose control and shatter something otherwise.
“Wait.” Lord Pentri strode forward, wresting the pen from Lord Sabel’s hand. His nostrils flared. “I don’t want to ally myself with you.” Oh no. No, for a moment she’d forgotten that insipid feud between their Houses.
The wheel had turned to perfectly allow her victory, but now…
Do something. You have to win.
“Wait. My lord.” Emilia got up and hurried to the men, pulse fluttering in her throat. “What if I could offer you something more?”
“What else could you possibly offer?” Pentri snorted. “A frozen island in the northern sea?”
“Trade ports.” She ignored her parents’ horrified gasps. “My family has established new trade ports as a gift from the Sabel. Those ports border your own territory, I think, in the east.” She felt all the gears in her mind clicking into place. “If I take the throne, they’ll be yours.”
Lord Sabel grunted, and for a moment, she was afraid he would change his mind. But he merely nodded at her in resignation. He and her father had been friends for so long…but Lord Sabel was teaching a lesson tonight.
“Sabel ports?” The Pentri husband and wife needed only a moment to confer. “Then we stay.” Apparently, the anguish of family dishonor could be wiped away for a price.
“In that case,” Camilla said, with a flourish of the pen, “Lady Emilia has won the Game!” She applauded, though everyone else in the room appeared stunned. “And to think, Lady Hyperia started off with victory practically assured. Isn’t that the epitome of politics?”
Emilia turned to look at Lucian, and her stomach dropped. He was staring at his father with the most open, lost expression.
“Father,” he whispered. “Why?”
“For you, Lucian.” Lord Sabel blinked back tears, his voice trembling with emotion. “I would like your love again.”
“My love?” The boy shook his head and pulled his father against him. Lucian hugged Lord Sabel forcefully. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Lord Sabel choked as he hugged Lucian back. Dido, the most stoic girl, who’d met every challenge and obstacle in their childhood with nary a twitch of her lips, was now weeping into her hands. From joy, Emilia would guess.
She looked past the Sabel and their happiness to her own family. Her parents shriveled under the loss of their ports, but Alex…
He looked as if she’d slapped his face.
Oh. Oh no.
She’d stolen those ports from him as well.
Lord Tiber put a hand on her shoulder.
“Good job, girly,” he whispered. She heard him lick his lips. “Here’s to being in business.”
This, Emilia realized, was politics at its finest.
Vespir wasn’t surprised when the bells chimed to signal the end of the Game. She’d sat cross-kneed on the floor after Antonia had left, waiting for Hyperia to be declared the winner. She just hadn’t expected it to take this long.
She supposed the chaotic attack in the ballroom had set things back. At least she hadn’t been there. This was one mess they couldn’t blame on her, no matter how they tried.
Wiping her eyes, she sidled along the hallways until the guards herded her into the large, rosy parlor where they’d begun the competition. When she entered, something immediately caught her eye.
Hyperia looked as if someone had struck her in the stomach, hunched over, hands on her gut. Lord Volscia, beside his daughter, looked sickly, too.
What had happened?
Emilia and Lucian huddled with their backs to the walls. Only Ajax, arms crossed and legs confidently spread, appeared satisfied. No. No, it couldn’t have been…him.
“Shall we?” Camilla said. Petros had only just entered the room, looking a bit pale. Whatever happened in the ballroom, it’d thrown their grand ceremonies off. Neither priest looked like they wanted to be showy now. “The winner,” Camilla announced, “is Lady Emilia, with three Houses.”
No one looked surprised, or at least, not that surprised. Vespir was too numb to be shocked by anything.
“Bring forward the box,” Camilla said, gesturing to the table. One of the Volscia guards in his gold livery brought it. The priestess opened the latch, lifted the lid…and gasped. “What the—” she whispered. For the first time since Vespir had met her, she appeared dumbfounded. “Who has taken the pendants?”
The box was empty.
Everyone shared baffled looks. Vespir was half-afraid they’d start blaming her. After all, she was a commoner, and those jewels were expensive. Finally, Ajax snorted and shook his head, whipping his plait of yellow hair back and forth.
“You.” Camilla narrowed her black eyes. She appeared this close to losing her temper.
“If I couldn’t get a meeting with any of you fine lords and ladies, I figured I ought to take a souvenir of the experience.” The Tiber boy bared his sharp little teeth in a grin. Vespir’s chin wobbled as she tried to hold back shocked laughter.
“Where are they?” Camilla snapped. Instantly, the room’s collective gaze went to the pouch at Ajax’s side. The priestess ripped it away and poured out a glittering handful of fine jewels. The pendants, however, were nowhere to be found.
“You think I’d keep them in a sack?” Ajax winked. “Use your imagination, Your Grace.”
Vespir struggled to control her breathing. Her shoulders began to shake.
“Where are they?” Camilla snarled. “Return them, or there’ll be consequences.”
“I thought you were saving the killing-me part for later.”
> “How did you even get in here?”
“Come on. Let me maintain my aura of mystery.”
“High priestess, I swear the door was locked and the guard posted,” one of the soldiers stammered.
“Doors.” Ajax tsked. “I’m way beyond doors these days.”
That did it. Vespir collapsed to her knees and burst out laughing. The room stared as she pointed with a shaking hand at every one of them in turn.
“Look at your faces,” she gasped amid giggles. All these poncy lords and ladies, priests and soldiers, undone by some little…“And you.” Vespir grinned at Ajax. “You’re…so…stupid,” she said, barely able to get the words out. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and rocked with laughter.
“Um, let’s finish this,” Petros muttered to Camilla. He had a point. The longer this went on, the more humiliating it’d be.
“Fine,” the priestess said, taking a book from Petros’s hands. She spoke at a clipped pace now, as if running against the clock. “Emilia of the Aurun, take the collected wisdom of our most recent emperor, Erasmus. Let it guide you on the path to great statesmanship.” The priestess all but shoved the book into Emilia’s hands, while the girl blustered her thanks. With that, Camilla turned glinting eyes to the rest of the room. “As for the other rankings. Lucian of the Sabel shares second place with Hyperia of the Volscia, with one House each. Vespir, servant of the Pentri, and Ajax of the Tiber tie for last.” Camilla practically bared her teeth. “Normally, the penalty would apply to both of you, but due to Ajax’s unorthodox manner of playing, he descends to last place on principle. Therefore, the punishment is entirely his.”
Well, that was one good thing to happen to Vespir. And the boy didn’t seem all that perturbed by his loss.
“What’ll it be? Is Hyperia going to punch me in the face?” Ajax worked his jaw. “I might enjoy that.”
Vespir heard the Volscia girl scoff.
“Pride in an emperor is commendable; arrogance is the opposite.” Camilla glanced at Petros, who appeared to understand her implicitly. The old man nodded, the bags under his eyes growing more pronounced with his smirk.
“Arrogance is often a marker of the lowborn,” Petros continued. He eyed Ajax from head to toe. “You will strip yourself and your dragon of the Tiber family colors and partake in the next challenge as you began this Trial: a humble, illegitimate boy.”
The grin withered on Ajax’s face. He touched the collar of his crimson cloak as if it were a talisman. Emilia and Lucian appeared sympathetic, while Hyperia seemed to relish this.
“Can I…go change?” the boy muttered.
“Here, Lord Ajax. If you please,” Petros hissed.
Vespir watched the boy fumble at his cloak’s clasp, let it slip from his shoulders to pile to the floor. He took off his jacket, his lips pursed in a hard, white line. Ajax threw the jacket after his cloak and stood there in his white shirtsleeves and black trousers. Without the fancy attire, he was a scarecrow of a boy.
“Give me my bag,” he growled, snatching at the sack and kneeling to shove his treasures inside.
“Of course,” Camilla purred. “A little thief deserves his loot.”
Ajax froze, fist tightening around diamonds.
Throw it in their faces, Vespir thought. But he tied up his pouch and got to his feet. The two Tiber boys snickered, but Ajax would not look at them. He kept his fists at his sides, and gradually everyone’s glance slid past him. Forgotten, as usual.
Only Vespir saw the one, brief moment that his chin quivered.
Camilla clapped her hands. “With that, the Game concludes, and the Race begins. To dragonback, everyone. Your next and final stop is the capital.”
* * *
As Vespir climbed onto Karina’s back, she prayed for another glimpse of Antonia. The girl wasn’t standing next to her parents, who looked smug about how the evening had played out. They sneered openly at her. Vespir, blind with rage, barely restrained herself from going over there and kneeing Lord Pentri in his highborn balls.
Karina chirped, bending her long neck to glance over her wing at Vespir. The dragon nudged at her shoulder, and Vespir touched her forehead to the dragon’s snout. Karina gave a coarse lick with her forked tongue.
Just like when you were born, girl.
Vespir’s eyes burned to imagine those priests cutting her beautiful baby’s throat, her dragon screaming for Vespir as her life bled away. But Vespir would be dead herself by then.
No one will ever know about me or Karina. It’ll be like I never existed.
The ultimate sacrifice, and none of these fine people cared.
Next to her, Ajax climbed onto his dragon. The boy’s face was wan, his eyes puffed. Astride his dragon, who gawped with abandon as he spread his batlike wings, Ajax spared her a sour glance.
“What?” he asked.
“They don’t get it,” Vespir replied, nodding at the nobles in their finery, jewels winking in the torchlight. “They’ll never understand what it’s like to be us.” She petted Karina’s neck. “I should’ve been last. When they snubbed me, I gave up. At least you fought back.”
Ajax sniffed.
“Yeah. Thanks.” He looked to the sky. Vespir rolled her eyes; she didn’t know why she bothered reaching out to this kid. “Vespir. Catch.”
She jumped in surprise as something arced through the air. Vespir grabbed it, thinking it was a coin. When she opened her hand, she found the Pentri crest. The silver disc was cool against her skin, the green Pythos dragon insignia set in emerald. Ajax cocked his head, a smile returned to his lips.
“Where’d you hide this?” she asked.
“I’ve got ways.” With that and a dry chuckle, he took off into the sky, Dog snuffling in contentment as he swooped after the others. They were growing distant, outlines against the moon. Gritting her teeth, Vespir rose with Karina to go after them, not bothering to look back at the Volscia palace. There was nothing for her on earth anymore. No home. No family. No Antonia.
All she had was Karina, who purred as they cut through a wisp of starlit cloud.
Karina, her only reason to live.
To fight.
All she needed was one single victory to have a shot at the throne.
The Race was on.
No one had slept. As the sun rose over the ocean, Vespir found everyone seated perfectly straight in their saddles without the aid of sleeping ropes. They had left the mainland sometime past midnight and flown toward the Imperial Peninsula, with moonlight sparkling on the waves far below. At least it hadn’t been cloudy.
Vespir and Karina kept a careful distance behind Dog, riding the larger dragon’s air current. Ajax turned in his saddle, cupped his hands, and yelled, “Hey! How long till we get to Dragonspire?”
The golden capital, the greatest wonder of the civilized world. Or so Vespir had heard it described.
“No idea!” she shouted back. He yelled something that the wind ate. “What?”
“I said, How do you piss while riding?”
Vespir blinked. “If it hits me, I’ll kill you!”
“I’ll hold it! Thanks!”
Beside her, Emilia and Chara rose up on a gust of wind. The ripple effect made Karina waver back and forth, but the dragon soon steadied herself.
“We should reach the peninsula in a couple of hours,” the Aurun girl called. She’d kept to the back of the racing formation, occasionally dropping away far below, almost to touch the waves. Odd, but then again, she rode an Aspis. Emilia certainly had a good breed for this race.
Aspises: good with water and could sustain themselves for longer flights. Weakness: the length of their bodies, and the natural serpentine movements of their tails, could make hairpin aerial turns difficult.
Vespir had been checking on everyone’s dragon throughout the night, guessing how they’d
try to pull ahead during the final descent into Dragonspire. So far, they all congregated together on the long flight. In fact, their dragons instinctively cooperated, adopting a constantly shifting V flight pattern rather like geese in migration. There was no sense in racing right now. Putting on an aggressive burst of speed would only result in tiring out their dragons. At best, they wouldn’t be able to pull ahead when the finish line was in sight. At worst, the poor creatures would spiral into the sea out of exhaustion or suffer a flameout.
Vespir went over her plan again.
Lucian managed Tyche with one hand on the reins. Drakes were more nimble than any other breed, and their triangular snouts and dart-shaped torsos let them cut through the air with ease. Weakness: also the most delicate dragon. They tired quickly.
Ajax had both his hands over his head, Dog’s reins flapping free in the wind. The dragon gawped with glee as they swayed side to side, Ajax’s pressed knees the only guidance.
“Will you hold on to the reins?” Lucian twisted around in his seat, and shot the other boy a look of withering contempt. “You’re going to disrupt the formation.”
“You’re all a bunch of toothless old women. Look at this!” Ajax crowed, gesturing to the expanse of ocean, the rising sun streaking the sky gold and pink. He stood in his stirrups, pumped his fists. “We are gods!”
Vespir caught Emilia’s eye. The Aurun girl shook her head, then clasped her hands over her throat. The signal was clear: kill me. Vespir laughed. Emilia hastily looked away, but Vespir caught a pleased grin.
“Stop. Wrecking. The formation!” Lucian shouted, swearing as Dog tried getting alongside Tyche in midair. The finicky Drake swooped away, chittering and lashing her tail. When a dragon lashed its tail in a flying group, the message was clear: don’t touch me.
“Hey. Stop, you moron!” Ajax finally took the reins and brought up Dog’s head. He rapped his knuckles on the dragon’s skull. “Be a good boy.”
“Gawp,” Dog replied mournfully.
Wyverns: the hardiest breed of all, capable of the longest distances and the heaviest battles. Weaknesses…
House of Dragons Page 19