by Lindsey Duga
“How did you find me?”
He shrugged. “Bribed a servant.”
I waited for him to offer more, and when he didn’t, I gave a frustrated sigh. “Okay, why did you bribe a servant?”
“So they’d tell me where you were.”
I started to push past him, but he planted his arm on the shelf, halting me. “Troll’s breath, you can’t take a joke, can you? I wanted to apologize.”
“For?”
“Implying I would kiss you. I suppose that was out of line.”
“You suppose?”
“I didn’t mean any harm by it.”
“It was offensive.”
“Do you not know how apologies work?”
I noticed he’d shaved since this morning, and it made him look younger. It reminded me that, although I certainly hadn’t found what he did funny, he probably thought it had been harmless. Just as I had joked around with my sisters in imagining the perfect Swordsman Prince.
“All right, I accept your apology. Though I’m not sure why you’re apologizing, since I doubt you came to me with a sudden change of mind about being my partner.”
Zach broke our gaze, his hazel eyes flitting to the book at my feet. “Even if we’re not going to be partners, that doesn’t mean I want you to hate me.”
His words caught me off guard, and I searched for a reply. Of course I didn’t hate him—it was far too strong a word. But yes, I had been angry.
He stooped to pick up my fallen book and read the title. “The Forces’ Darkest Children.”
I reached for it, but he stepped back, away from my grasp. “Why do you have this?”
“None of your concern.” I paused a beat. “Why? Have you read it before?”
“I’ve read a lot about monsters. This book is supposed to contain the worst of the worst. What are you looking for?”
He started to flip through the pages, and I yanked it out of his hands. “Zachariah, did you think I wanted you as my partner for just any battle? I assure you, if it were only the next patrol I was up against, I could manage with Amias.”
Zach narrowed his eyes.
“I see,” he said slowly, then turned and left without so much as a good-bye.
I stood there, the book in my hands, staring after him. Was he angry with me now? I wasn’t sure what I could’ve said to offend him, but I also knew the tension between us was so precarious, even my self-righteous tone might’ve made him leave.
Well, I couldn’t worry about that now. I had research to conduct.
Under the stained glass of the north wall I found a window seat and pulled my legs up so the book rested against my thighs. I flipped past the section on wraiths and stopped on dragons. The last dragon in the book was the Sable Dragon. There was little information about it. It was said that it had killed the people who knew most about it and the recorded text was only stories passed down and not actual accounts.
If I were to destroy it, though, I had to start somewhere. My hands tightened around the edges of the book, and I started to read.
The Sable Dragon is born of evil—shadows, darkness, wickedness from the hearts of men.
I sped through the details of how the darkness accumulated and the different omens associated with it—all signs Gelloren had mentioned. When it came to the section on its shell and skin, I slowed down, looking for weaknesses.
The shell is made from the hardest substance known on earth. No blade can pierce it. At the time of hatching, the dragon is most susceptible. According to King Yolan, descendant of the Second King, the dragon is made of obsidian, with the ability to produce black flames. The flames burn the coldest ice, all while the victim is tortured by every horrid emotion and feeling that plagues this world. To induce even more suffering on its victims, the flames burn much more slowly than normal fire. Its only vulnerable spot is its mouth, where the very flames are produced.
The text was terrifying but nothing I hadn’t expected. I knew of two other Sable Dragons preceding this one. And though this egg didn’t necessarily mean the dragon, if hatched, would be worse than the other two, it could still mean the end of the Legion. We were weaker than the Legion who had defeated the other dragons two hundred—even one hundred—years ago. The state the Legion was in now would not be able to hold up against a monster such as a Sable Dragon. All to say, I had to get to that dragon before it hatched.
“You’ll need this, too.”
I tore my attention from the text and looked up.
Bathed in blue and purple from the light shining through stained glass, Bromley stood above me, holding out another book. Kisses of Dragon Slayers: Volume Nine.
I’d read volumes one through seven a couple of years back, before my first mission to slay a Bronze Dragon, but Master Gelloren had told me I needn’t bother with the last two volumes, since they held spells to kill dragons that had long since been extinct.
I took the book and flipped to the back.
“A servant told me I could find you here,” Brom said.
“New rule: no servant is permitted to tell anyone where I am,” I muttered, flipping another page.
“You weren’t at lunch or dinner, so I figured you wanted to get a head start after seeing Prince Zach fight.”
I didn’t reply. Bromley assumed I’d be going with Zach to kill the Sable Dragon. Well, he was half right. I was going, just not with Zach. I’d find another partner. Maybe another Saevallan. Or, Heavenly Queen forbid, I’d even get Amias if I was that desperate—maybe the Council would make an exception because of the tight deadline. Whoever it was, I was certain my power alone could beat the dragon.
I found the spell. It was long and intricate. More than five dozen syllables, all with unique pronunciation and rhythm. Of course it had to be complicated. The higher the risk, the greater the price.
“Do you think she ever slayed a dragon?” Brom asked, staring up at the stained glass.
I stood, both books in my arms, and turned to look at the stained glass as well.
It was of Queen Myriana.
Her image stood at least fifteen feet tall, with indigo-colored hair, white skin, and a beautiful blue dress. Roses, thorns, and ivy entwined in her hair and around her dress and arms. While holding a sword, she stood back to back with the Wicked Queen, who was wrapped in a violet cloak and holding a staff of gnarled wood. It was a beautiful juxtaposition. Like two sides of the moon, one blackened by shadows, the other illuminated by the sun. They were also both mothers. Myriana, mother to the first generation of Royals, and the Wicked Queen, mother to the Forces of Darkness.
Usually whenever I admired this stained glass, I focused on Myriana, but today the sun seemed to be shining directly behind the Evil Queen, bathing us in violet. The staff was beautifully designed with swirls of ancient dark symbols, but I knew that was merely an artist’s choice. The truth was we didn’t even know if she had a staff, much less what it looked like.
The historical texts had always been cryptic about the Evil Queen and her past. It was also extremely annoying to run into ripped or warped pages of history books whenever the text got close to her origins.
Even the version the young princess told in the classroom was said to have been mostly fabricated by bits and pieces of rumors from over five centuries ago. The Royals accepted that they were mother and daughter—that Myriana’s firstborn had been stolen and cursed into a hellish oblivion. How could anything, or anyone, take away an innocent baby and turn her into something so wicked and twisted…so terrifyingly evil that new monsters and curses were born by nothing more than her thought or nightmare?
Tearing my gaze away from the cloaked queen, I refocused on Brom’s question. “Oh, I’m sure she fought many dragons. Maybe not a Sable—”
My words were drowned out by the tolling of the Myrial bells, then three sharp horn blasts, one after the other.
A breach.
I shoved the books into Brom’s arms. “Copy page 354 of the Dragon Slayers volume for the spell. I have to
go!”
The librarians didn’t say a word as I ran through their precious stacks. They knew I was running to join the fight. Even without a partner, I had to help stop whatever monster had breached our walls.
…
Down in the armory, it was ordered, calm…routine. Younger Royals strapped armor to the older Royals. Princesses slung quivers of arrows to their backs and fastened wrist guards as they stood under shelves and racks of weapons upon weapons. Swords, shields, rapiers, daggers, staffs, longbows, crossbows, maces, and axes all hung neatly on gray stone walls stretching high into rafters of dark brucel wood.
Tulia and Minnow were already loaded with shields and their preferred weapons—Tulia with a collection of throwing daggers, Minnow with a crossbow. I hurried to my friends and grabbed a sword and a smaller, easier-to-move shield.
“Any report yet?” I asked, strapping the shield to my left arm.
Tulia shook her head. “Just the three horns. It’s probably a horde. We’re waiting for the scouts now, and then we’re to set out.”
I grimaced at the word “horde.” She was probably right—no single monster was stupid enough to attack Myria’s walls, but they gained courage in numbers.
The double wooden doors banged open, and two running scouts sped through, stopping to report to Roland and Edric. Then Roland pointed to six pairs of half princes and princesses and signaled for them to depart. They were outside before Edric had even crossed to Tulia, Minnow, and me.
His face didn’t look quite so strained now, but there were still signs of fatigue in his gait—just like Minnow and Tulia, he was still tired from their week-long patrol.
“The good news is the breach is contained. The Royals on the wall were the first to respond, so they have a good handle on it.” Edric nodded to Tulia. “But we should hurry, just in case.”
Minnow and Tulia started off with their partners, but I grabbed Edric’s arm. “And what of me? Don’t tell me you expect me to stay behind.”
Edric shrugged off my arm. “You don’t have a partner yet.”
I winced at his tone. So matter-of-fact. “What of the Saevallans?”
Roland tugged on his sword belt. “Many of them are already at the wall.”
“Then I’m going as well.” I couldn’t stand the thought of being left behind, especially when our reinforcements were out there risking their lives for a city they didn’t call home.
“Don’t be a fool, Ivy. No one will be able to protect you out there.”
He was right. It was a stupid, brainless thing to do. But I couldn’t just sit back, waiting on my comrades to come home. I couldn’t see Minnow or Tulia in the Curse Ward next to Kellian. I needed to go out there. Prince or no prince.
“I don’t need protection. I can stay in the Illye circle.”
“You can’t stay in there unless you’ve been Kissed. You know that,” Edric snapped.
“Then Kiss me.” I reached for his neck, but he drew back.
“No, Ivy. I’m not going to help you get yourself killed.” With that, he pushed my arms away and stomped through the doors of the armory.
Five Royals passed me before I snapped out of it.
I grabbed Matilda, Amias’s partner, and squeezed her arm. “I need a favor.”
Matilda blinked. She didn’t particularly like me—especially since her partner was always trying to leave her for me, but she also wasn’t about to turn down the direct descendant of Myriana. “Yes, Your Highness?”
“I need a battle Kiss.” If I wanted to go out and actually fight—to see if all those sword lessons were worth something, I needed a princess to cast the battle spell on me. A prince’s Kiss wouldn’t work this time, since princes couldn’t cast spells.
Matilda glanced to the doors, to the sounds of hooves thundering away. “I don’t think…”
“I’ll tell no one. No matter what happens, you won’t be blamed.”
Still, she hesitated.
“Or, I could take Amias away from you, and you’d be left with a weaker partner or a spot at Freida.” I hated to threaten her—but I was desperate.
Matilda didn’t pause this time. She grabbed my shoulders and Kissed me. Her magic was like the paws of a cat, small pinpoints of pressure. I could tell when she spoke the battle words—Silen proderr Natalya—because then I could draw the magic out of her, as Amias had done to me just this morning. I took only a sliver of hers, because I could draw from my own magic now. Blue flames danced across my skin, even though I felt nothing but a soft, warm sensation.
When our lips parted, she glared at me. “I hope my spell is good enough for the great Ivy Myriana,” she snarled.
I drew myself up, flexing my arm muscles, feeling the power and strength course through me. “It’ll do.”
…
Twilight had just begun to show on the eastern horizon, in the direction of the breached wall. It was no coincidence. Monsters preferred attacking in shadows and darkness. Perhaps by hitting us at sundown they thought they would surprise us.
But they would never truly be able to catch us completely off guard, thanks to our Sense. Royals could feel the power of darkness closing in. A stony feeling, like a heavy shadow, settled over our chests as evil creatures got closer. During the partnership ritual, where marks were exchanged, the mage performed a spell that allowed princesses to take the prince’s Sense. That way the prince could fight freely, without the weight of the darkness pressing against him like a second, heavier gravity.
The fact that the princesses had to be the ones to bear the burden of the Sense’s weight was not necessarily fair, but, like everything else, it was logical. The Legion argued that the princesses weren’t the ones outside the protective Illye circle, engaging the monsters in close combat. And the Legion ruled by logic.
I had pushed the feeling down, as I had been trained to, but as I sat astride my mare, Lorena, I let the shadow loose. It settled across my chest like a breastplate, heavy with cold and fear. Its intensity told me it was, in fact, a horde of creatures. They were not particularly strong monsters, but there were many.
I swallowed and balled the feeling back into my chest, smothering it. It served me no purpose now. I knew where the enemy was and knew the extent of its power. I could not let the darkness grab hold of me, or I would never be able to move. Instead, I focused on the strength from the pulsing blue magic that surrounded me. It had been a long time since I’d felt the battle magic myself—only in training scenarios, never on an actual battlefield. This would be interesting.
I urged Lorena forward.
Rubble lay half a mile away from the forty-foot wall. Something big must have broken through to send debris so far. My horse picked her way through the rocks, and when I could go faster by foot, I dismounted and ran toward the battle, my legs stronger now with my enhanced battle magic. It made me grateful the locking curse was long gone. Up ahead, wooden buildings were on fire, and a whole roof had been caved in by a large boulder.
Oh, Sacred Sisters, I prayed, please let there be no more innocent lives lost. Please, Queen Myriana, protect my people.
Royals helped injured villagers out from under burning logs. Two children, their clothes covered in soot and ash, huddled behind a rock with a prince guarding them with his sword.
The fight was at its peak. Princes, lit with the blue flames of battle magic, fought against dwarves with axes. Princesses crowded together in a silvery protective dome of magic as they fired out arrows with longbows and crossbows.
Saevallans were also in the fray, fighting like rabid dogs against wolves. Their bronze armor glinted in the setting sun. Weldan was among them, also alight with blue magic.
His scarlet cloak flew behind him as he leaped onto a pile of rubble and drove his sword into a troll’s neck. The troll fell with the power of a chopped brucel tree and shook the ground at my feet. Its giant body disintegrated into black smoke, and the ground where it had fallen ignited in green flames, burning all the grass and turning the earth int
o something that death itself had touched.
“Ivy!”
My name came from within the Illye circle, and I glanced back to see Minnow standing at the edge, her crossbow at her side, waving at me. But I ignored her. She’d tell me to get within the circle to stay safe. Not this time. Not when villagers could still be hurt and not when I could actually do something about it. After weeks of lying in bed while my partner had gone on without me, I could finally fight again—I had battle magic now. The blue fire pulsed around me, and strength and power surged through me like lightning.
I had to do this. No, I wanted to do this.
I unsheathed my sword and headed into the smoke.
The first thing I encountered was a goblin. Its bald head and big ears swiveled around to me, scaly gray arms following with a large spiked hammer in its hands.
“Yek ut Mukk!”
Die, Royal scum.
I sneered at his words. “Out Nerak!”
Not today.
I ducked low to avoid the swing and stabbed my sword into its tender feet. The creature reared back and screamed, half its cry drowned out by other sounds of battle. While it was distracted with pain, I drove my shoulder into its gut, forcing it to the ground. With a wild feeling of victory, I stabbed the goblin in the chest. The creature went up in black smoke and scorched the earth with a surge of green flames.
My nerves flew like ash on the wind. I killed a monster, without a partner to hide behind. With Matilda’s spell and my own reservoir of magic, I alone was powerful enough.
“Ivy!”
It was Edric this time, no doubt furious I went against his order. I barely glanced his way, and instead, ran the other direction, into the plumes of smoke.
I drew in a breath as the smoke around me cleared. Fire and debris were everywhere, while a gaping hole in the wall revealed rolling lands shadowed in twilight. I sent out another prayer to the wind, shuddering at the thought of undergoing another breach while civilians lay in their beds, weak and vulnerable.
Thankfully, though, we were winning. Much faster than usual.
And that was for one reason.
Zach.