“Oh.” Jallis laughed. “Well, we know that part is definitely legend. There is no afterlife, and therefore no ‘land of the dead’ for the dragon god to come back from.”
I bit my lip. Most Elantians didn’t believe in gods or hells or heaven—even though Zakyiar was referred to as the dragon god, that was more because of his legendary prowess and the iron-clad control he had over the dragons he had brought with him. The arrival of the dragon god in our world had shattered the faiths of many who felt that the gods they had prayed to so fervently had abandoned them, or perhaps never existed at all.
But I wasn’t so sure about that. And the piece of heart I’d located on Tavarian’s estate only confirmed that the legends were, at least in part, true.
“Jallis?” a cultured, feminine voice called faintly. “Jallis, are you home?”
“Damn!” Jallis’s head snapped up. He rushed to the window, pressing his hands against the glass. Following, I saw a small airship parked in the landing field not far from the castle. An airship that bore Jallis’s family crest.
“It’s your family.” Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I was gripped by a sudden urge to climb out the window and disappear.
“I was so certain they wouldn’t be home,” Jallis said in a pained voice. He scratched the back of his neck, giving me an apologetic smile. “Sorry about this. I know you weren’t exactly prepared to meet my parents.”
“Jallis?” The doors to the library flew open, and a woman in a flowing silk gown sailed in. She had Jallis’s green eyes, and her platinum hair was braided into a crown atop her head. Her bearing was regal, her figure trim, and though she had to be at least fifty, the fine bones of her face and her smooth skin gave her an ageless quality.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home!” She embraced Jallis warmly, and I was instantly overcome with envy. The way Jallis hugged her back, easily and without reservation, told me that there was real love between them, and I wondered what it would have been like if I’d had a mother who loved me.
But when Jallis’s mother turned to look at me, the warmth in her eyes faded, replaced by a cool curiosity.
“And who is your friend, darling?” she asked, looking me up and down. Taking in my wild halo of hair, my corset and utility belt, my leather pants. For a moment, I wished I’d thought to fasten the sapphire dragon pin Tavarian had given me to the front of my blouse, but I’d left it in my dormitory room because I’d thought it was for special occasions.
Now I recognized that it was armor. Armor to protect me from the scathing, judgmental looks of the upper class.
“This is Zara Kenrook,” Jallis said. “She’s a new student at the academy.”
“New?” She looked me over again, and recognition dawned in her eyes. “Ah, you are the upstart ground-dweller who stole from Tavarian.”
“Mother!” Jallis sounded scandalized. “Of course she didn’t steal it from Tavarian. She’s a member of his house. I apologize, Zara,” he said to me with a chagrined look. “I don’t know what has gotten into my mother.”
The woman—Lady Lyton, I supposed—laughed, a crystalline sound with sharp edges that were meant to wound. “How do you think a ground-dweller came to be a member of such a grand house? Tavarian didn’t take her in out of the goodness of his heart. He took her in because she tried to steal his egg, to pawn it off like some trinket, but before she could get away with it, it hatched.” Her glare was like a javelin, and I stumbled back as if I’d been physically struck. “You didn’t earn your place among us, ground-dweller. You stole it.”
Jallis finally turned to look at me, disbelief written all over his handsome face. “Is this true, Zara? Did you really steal the egg?”
My heart shriveled up into a tiny, crumpled ball at the tiny gleam in his eyes—he was hoping that I would deny it, that I would say something to refute his mother’s words.
I had been right. Jallis was a white hat, a golden heart, a straight arrow.
He wasn’t for the likes of me.
“I think it’s best I take my leave now,” I said stiffly. My voice was quiet, and yet it seemed to echo in the space. Leave, leave, leave. “I clearly made a mistake coming here.”
“You certainly did,” his mother said. “I will send word to the airship captain to take you back to the academy.”
“Thank you.”
“Zara?” Jallis asked as I stepped past her, reaching for me. But his mother placed a hand on his chest, stopping him, separating us with her body as effectively as she had with her words.
“Miss Kenrook?” Her voice cracked like a whip, and I turned to meet her gaze one more time. “Do me one favor, will you?”
“What is it?” I asked, my voice wooden. I needed to get out of there, out of Jallis’s sight, before I cracked.
“Stay away from my son.”
15
“And he didn’t even try to stop you?”
“Nope,” I said flatly. I stood behind the counter, resolutely polishing an ancient set of flatware a grandmother had brought in. Apparently, it was an heirloom and had been in her family for several centuries. My inner sense had told me it was worth three gold dorans, so I’d taken it off her hands this morning.
“Unbelievable.” Carina was aghast. “From everything you’ve said about him, I thought the two of you might have had something, but if a single look from his mother is enough to stop him, then good riddance.”
“I can’t exactly blame him for not chasing after me,” I told her. “I practically ran out of the room to get away from him.” It wasn’t as if I’d been in any position to tell him my side of the story anyway, not when his mother was standing right there. She’d have shot down any explanation I’d tried to give him. Leaving had been the right decision.
Stay away from my son. Her words echoed in my head. I wondered if Jallis had been given similar orders to keep away from me. Would he listen to his mother? Or would he reach out to me and demand an explanation? I had no doubt his mother had spent the entire evening berating him for letting a ground-dweller like me into their home. I bet if Aria had been a fly on the wall, she’d be gloating right now.
What does it matter? I asked myself, scrubbing angrily at a particularly persistent stain on the handle of a butter knife. It wasn’t as if Jallis and I actually had anything substantial. This had only been the second time we’d hung out together, and even though sparks had flown, I knew from past experience that was no indication that we were compatible.
“Zara? Hello?”
I blinked, realizing that Carina was waving a hand in front of my face. “What?”
“Have you been listening to anything I said?”
“No,” I admitted.
Carina huffed. “I can see that.” She took the knife out of my hand and set it on the table. “I was asking you to tell me what you found out in those texts. About the dragon heart. Is there really one on Tavarian’s island?”
I glanced around furtively. There was no one in the store—it was after hours—but a nervous shiver skittered through me. “Tavarian definitely has one,” I told her. “And according to the passage I read, if he gets three or more pieces he can summon the dragon’s spirit from the dead. I can’t imagine what kind of magic it would take to harness the soul of such a powerful creature.”
“How would Tavarian even pull something like that off?” Carina asked. “He’s a dragon rider, not a mage.”
“I’m sure a man like him has the right connections,” I said. “Although he’d have to find a mage as crazy as he is to agree to try such a thing.”
And therein lay the issue. You would have to be either crazy or desperate to want to summon the dragon god, even in spirit form. Tavarian didn’t strike me as crazy, which made me think he had to be desperate. But for what? Was there some kind of ticking time bomb I wasn’t aware of?
“I need more information, and I can’t ask either Tavarian or Salcombe to give it to me,” I said. “The problem is, who do I ask?”
“I think
what you really need to do is find out if Tavarian is actually collecting the hearts,” Carina said. “Why don’t you put out some bait and see if he, or someone else, bites?”
“Bait?” I frowned. “Do you mean like, pretend that I have a piece of heart, and see if someone tries to come and steal it from me?”
“Well, I think you should be a bit more ambiguous, but yeah,” Carina said. “If you want, I can discreetly drop some rumors into the ears of our especially rich customers as they come by the shop throughout the week.”
I brightened up. “That’s a great idea. And maybe we can funnel the inquiries to a third party, someone who can relay the messages to me.”
After some discussion, Carina and I closed up shop for the night, and I headed out. Not for the academy—I wasn’t quite ready to go back to Dragon’s Table after my fiasco with Jallis—but to the Blue Daffodil, a tavern closer to the heart of the city. It was a casual place, where one could get a decent brew and pick up the latest gossip. It was run by Portina, another girl who I’d grown up with at the orphanage.
“Zara.” Portina beamed when she saw me sitting at the counter, waiting for the bartender. In an instant, she’d snatched me up in a hug, pressing me against her buxom figure, which was displayed to great advantage thanks to the stays she wore over her dress. “How have you been? It’s been so long since you last popped by for a brew. Sam!” she called to the freckle-faced man behind the bar. “Bring my friend here a drink!”
“Thanks, Port,” I said as the bartender slid a frothy mug my way. I took a sip of the amber brew and smiled. “Just as good as I remembered.”
“Of course it is,” she said. “Is there anything else I can get you? You know your money’s no good here, Zara.”
I did know—I’d saved Portina’s life once, when a thug had dragged her into an alley and tried to rape her—but I always snuck money to the bartender anyway when she wasn’t looking. Portina had inherited the tavern from her late husband—the owner had been old when she’d married him—but I knew the tavern had come with debts she was still trying to square away.
“Actually,” I said, “I’m hoping you can help me with some reconnaissance.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who do you need dirt on?”
We adjourned to her office in the back, a cramped space filled with piles of paperwork, and I explained the situation as best as I could while avoiding giving her any more detail than was strictly necessary.
“Huh.” She leaned back in her chair when I was finished. “So you want me to take any messages for a person called The Traveler and hold them for you every week?”
“Yes. I’ll come to collect them on the weekends, so you won’t have to hold onto them too long.” I thought about telling Portina not to read them, but there was little point. Telling someone not to do something usually made them more likely to do it, and besides, it wasn’t as if I was going to be getting love letters in the mail. The messages would be cryptic, especially if the inquirer truly understood the value of the item I was bandying about.
Portina agreed, refusing my offer to pay her for her time. I left the tavern in much better spirits than I’d started my day with, and spent the rest of the weekend with Carina, tending to the shop and simply enjoying the time away from my responsibilities.
Unfortunately, the weekend ended all too soon, and on Monday morning I was dragging myself through my classes, dreading the day.
“You look like someone pissed in your porridge,” Rhia commented at lunch. “Except that’s impossible, because you weren’t at breakfast this morning. What happened, Zara? Trouble back home?”
“Nah. The shop is doing great.” My gaze flicked across the room to where Jallis was sitting with his buddies. He made absolutely no effort to meet my stare, and this morning, when we’d passed each other in the halls, he’d completely ignored me.
Rhia followed my gaze, and her expression softened with understanding. “Ah. Jallis dumped you.”
I stiffened. “‘Dumped’ implies we were in an official relationship,” I said. “We barely knew each other.”
“Still, it had to hurt.” Rhia’s lips twisted in a grimace. “What happened? Did he sleep with you and then toss you aside after deciding he didn’t want used goods?”
More like damaged goods, I thought. But I didn’t say that to Rhia.
To distract myself from my rift with Jallis, I spent as much extra time training with Lessie as possible. We were out in the field and by the cliffs every day together, practicing formations on the ground, doing mental agility drills to strengthen our bond, and other exercises Major Falkieth had taught us.
I also spent a lot of time as Lessie’s personal cheerleader, giving her encouragement as she practiced flying.
“Look at you go!” I cried as she glided through the air a good fifty feet above me. She’d taken to climbing up higher cliffs now, jumping off, and catching the updraft with her wings. Her wings and tail were strong enough that she could control the direction she was flying independent of where the current was taking her, but she still hadn’t quite managed a takeoff from the ground yet.
Lessie landed in front of me with a heavy whump, nearly knocking me off my feet. “Do you want to try flying with me?”
I bit my lip. “You don’t have a saddle yet.” Lessie was supposed to get fitted in a week or two—she was growing so fast that she was nearly big enough for me to ride. Major Falkieth strongly suspected this was because she’d spent so much time in her egg—apparently late-born dragons grew very quickly in their eagerness to make up for lost time.
Lessie nudged me in the side with her nose. “I’ve heard tales from the other dragons about bare-back riders. Why not give it a try?”
Because I don’t want to break my bones, I thought, glancing up at the rocky cliffs. But Lessie’s enthusiasm was infectious, overriding my need for common sense. I didn’t have the dragon rider armor that helped absorb the shock from landing, but I wasn’t exactly a stranger to falling. I’d tumbled off a roof a time or two, and I knew how to land with minimal damage. The worst injury I’d suffered was a broken collarbone, and that was because I’d unwittingly stepped onto the sunken roof of a buried ruin. Besides, Lessie and I had managed to do the mounted drills without a saddle and bridle.
“All right,” I told her. “Let’s do it.”
I’d barely finished the words before Lessie bounded away, scrabbling up the rocks far faster than I could manage. Before I managed two steps, she rushed back down, urging me onto her back. I settled myself in the space between the two spikes just behind her neck, and held on tight to the one in front of me as she raced back up the cliff. Every single balance drill I’d practiced came into play as I gripped her sides with my thighs, and I’d be sore in the morning.
But all of it was totally worth it, especially when Lessie launched herself off the cliff. My heart leapt into my throat as we plummeted to the ground, but then she snapped her wings out and we were off, soaring over the fields, over the stable, over the academy itself. Much farther than Lessie had ever gone before.
“You’ve been holding back!” I accused, but I wasn’t angry. In fact, I was utterly delighted.
“I wanted to surprise you.” I could feel Lessie’s pride, mingled with an eagerness to receive my approval.
“Well, you succeeded.” I patted the side of her neck. “You’re amazing, Lessie. I’m so proud you chose me to be your rider.”
Lessie gave a rumbling purr that reverberated through my entire body. She circled around the field a couple of times, then came in for a landing. A small group of students had gathered near the stables to watch us, and they began to cheer as we approached.
Thwack.
A blinding pain struck me in the side, shocking me into letting go of Lessie’s spike just as Lessie dove. I felt Lessie’s panic as she tried to pull up, but it was too late, and I immediately started to slide sideways.
“Zara!” Lessie shrieked as I toppled off her back, speeding to the groun
d. The pain in my ribs was ferocious, but as the ground came rushing toward me, adrenaline took over. Gritting my teeth, I spread my arms out, preparing to angle my body feet first. But suddenly Lessie was beneath me, her body turned so that her back was facing the ground.
“No!” I cried as Lessie snatched me out of the air with her clawed hands. “Lessie, stop!”
Whump.
We landed hard on the ground, and even though Lessie’s body cushioned the impact, the vibrations jarred my already pained ribs. That, combined with the pain I could feel emanating from Lessie, was enough to make my stomach pitch with nausea.
“Let me through, let me through!” Major Falkieth barked. I tried to sit up to see what was going on, but Lessie had a death grip on me, her giant hand crushing me against her chest.
“Lessie.” I tried to penetrate the fog of pain clouding both of our minds. “Lessie, you have to let me go.”
“She hurt you.” Lessie’s voice was thick with rage, and she held me tighter to her chest. “You could have died. I won’t let her near you so she can try again.”
“It’s fine,” I said, adopting a soothing tone. I didn’t know what Lessie was talking about, but it didn’t matter—I needed her to release me so I could help her. “No one is going to hurt me. You saved me, Lessie. We’re fine.”
Pushing aside my own pain, I sent soothing waves of calmness through the bond, like a mental stroke of my hand over her. Lessie resisted at first, but eventually I managed to calm her enough that she finally let me go.
“Shit,” I groaned as I slid off her. My feet hit the ground hard enough to jar my ribs, and I gripped my side.
“What the hell happened here?” Major Falkieth shouted, shoving her way through the crowd. She was absolutely beside herself, her reddened face clashing sharply with her azure eyes. “You disobeyed a direct order, Cadet!”
I flinched—she’d never called me ‘cadet’ before. “We were practicing, and—”
“I know exactly what you were doing.” Falkieth made a disgusted noise as she pushed past me. The stable master was already at Lessie’s side, inspecting her. “Now let’s hope your dragon hasn’t been permanently damaged by your foolishness.”
Call of the Dragon Page 18