by Sera Trevor
They lapsed into silence, letting the haze of the kara weed drift over them. Jasen wished he had some wisdom to impart on her, but he barely knew what he was doing himself. “I don’t think you should marry someone because you think you have no choice,” he finally said.
“Then what should I do? My education centered around becoming a consort, so I can’t go into a trade. Besides, my father would make sure no one would have me—and I’m not sure he would have me back, either. I’m an investment to him more than a daughter, and he is quick to cut investments that don’t pay out.”
“What about becoming a draedess? A dragon called you.”
“That was a long time ago,” she said quietly. “And I rejected it.”
“I always got the impression that a dragon’s calling was more open-ended than that. There are lots of stories about draeds and draedesses who rejected the call before embracing it.”
“But I’ve done nothing with myself since then.” Her voice had gotten so soft that Jasen had to strain to hear her. “I’ve been selfish and lazy. Maybe I was worthy once—but not anymore.”
And now she really was crying. Jasen didn’t know what to say, so he pulled her into his arms and held her. When her sobs had quieted, he kissed her temple. “You’ve been a good friend to me. Surely that counts for something.”
She laughed a little as she wiped her eyes. “I’m not sure if it counts in the grand scheme of things, but it means something to me.”
Jasen opened his mouth to reply when there was an urgent knock on the door. Puzzled, they both got to their feet. When Risyda opened the door, Jasen was surprised to see that it was Banither, who was looking unusually disheveled and out of breath.
“What’s going on?” Jasen asked.
“Lady Isalei has called an emergency meeting,” he panted. “We’re all to meet her in the Great Hall.”
“Why?”
“There’s been a Reckoning.”
“A Reckoning?” Risyda gasped. “Where? Why?”
“Westrona, and how would I know? I expect we’ll find out more soon enough.” He dashed off to the next door before they could question them further.
Jasen and Risyda exchanged glances. He imagined his own expression was just as shocked as hers. A Reckoning meant that the dragons had decided that the ruling class of Westrona must be purged. “I didn’t think Reckonings happened anymore.”
“Neither did I. It’s been over a century.” Risyda cursed. “Help me get dressed.”
Once Risyda was presentable, they made their way down the hall to the stairs, but they stopped in their tracks when they heard an agonized screech coming from around the corner.
“What was that?” Jasen asked.
“Only one way to find out.” Risyda headed in the direction of the scream, with Jasen following close behind her.
The source of the commotion was not difficult to find. Polina and Lady Lalan stood in the hallway, along with Larely. Lalan was deathly pale, while Polina’s face had turned red with fury.
“You can’t take her!” Polina screamed at Larely, who seemed a bit shaken himself. “Whatever is happening with her family has nothing to do with her!”
“I’m very sorry, my lady, but we have orders from the king—”
“The king would never order such a thing!”
“But he has.” Larely presented her with a scroll. “See for yourself.”
Polina snatched the scroll from him and unfurled it. As she read, she sagged, like a wilting flower.
Lalan put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s true—I’ve already read the order. I have no choice but to comply.”
Polina shook her head and thrust the scroll back at Larely. “There must be some sort of mistake. The king would never be so unjust!” She threw her arms around her friend as they both wept.
Larely caught sight of Jasen and Risyda. “Help!” he mouthed silently.
Risyda took the scroll from Larely and read it. She passed it over to Jasen before approaching the two crying women. Jasen tried to read it, but he was as shocked as Polina and had trouble focusing. Would Rilvor really do something like this?
Risyda put her hand on Polina’s shoulder, gently separating them. “The king won’t let any harm come to her—he said so in the order. But the will of the dragons must be obeyed, even by the king. If they have called the ruling class to be judged, it’s not for any of us to question it.”
“It’s not fair!” She sounded like a child.
“That isn’t for us to decide. You need to let her go.”
Lalan dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “She’s right. I must obey.”
Larely spoke up again. “This way, my lady.”
Lalan straightened herself and set her jaw, putting on a brave face, but after only a few steps, she swayed. Larely caught her, putting an arm around her waist to support her. “Here now, my lady, no harm will come to you. You’re simply going home, is all.”
They limped down the hall while Larely continued to murmur encouragements. Once they disappeared, Polina’s sorrow morphed into fury again. She rounded on Jasen. “It’s you who should be leaving, not her! You don’t belong here!” Her gaze darted over to Risyda. “And neither do you!”
Before either of them could respond, Polina stormed back into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Neither Jasen nor Risyda said anything for a moment. “Do you think we should try to get her to come with us?” Jasen finally asked. “We’re all supposed to be at the meeting.”
“I’m fairly certain Lady Isalei would rather have her stay here in her current condition.” She started off toward the stairs. “Come on, then. Let’s find out what this is all about.”
Lady Isalei had already begun to address the crowd when Jasen and Risyda arrived.
“—have every assurance that no harm will befall any of the consorts,” she was saying. “The king himself will be flying to Westrona to sort this out. In the meantime, we will proceed as normal…”
Lady Isalei continued to speak, but Jasen stopped listening. Will be flying suggested that he hadn’t left yet, which meant that Jasen might be able to catch him before he was gone.
“I’m going to the draemir,” Jasen said quietly to Risyda.
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
“No. But I’m going anyway. Cover for me?”
Risyda managed a weak smile. “Always.”
With that, Jasen was gone.
Jasen raced up to his room and managed to get himself out of his clothes. He dug out his peasant clothing from where he’d hidden it in his trunk and dressed as quickly as he could manage. After pulling on his boots and tucking his hair under his cap, he left his room and sneaked down to the ground floor. Fortunately for him, there was enough chaos that no one noticed him slipping out the servants’ door, much as he had on his first day at the castle.
As soon as he was outside, he jogged toward the draemir. If Rilvor was flying to Westrona, that meant that he would be leaving from the draemir. Jasen had no idea if he would be alone or surrounded by officials, but he decided to risk it. He couldn’t let Rilvor leave without speaking to him. He had to find out what was going on—he just hoped he wasn’t too late.
Fortunately, it seemed as though Rilvor would be taking off on his flight without a gaggle of attendants, for Jasen found him standing in the draemir alone. Jasen breathed a sigh of relief. “Rilvor!”
The king turned around, a surprised look on his face. He was wearing the red robes of a draed, just as he had been the day they met. The Drae’s cloak was draped across his shoulders, the jewel clasp sparkling in the sun. “Jasen? What are you doing here?”
Jasen didn’t answer right away. Instead, he launched himself into Rilvor’s arms. He hadn’t planned on doing that—it just sort of happened. Rilvor was stiff for a moment, but soon relaxed into the embrace, if only for a moment. He pulled back to meet Jasen’s gaze. “Is everything all right?”
“You tell me. Why have the drago
ns called a Reckoning? Are the nobles going to be burned to death?”
“Of course not! I would not let that happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I am the link between the humans and the dragons. They would not act without my consent.”
“But they have. They started this Reckoning without you and already it’s throwing everything into chaos! Why are they doing this?”
Rilvor sighed. “The queen of Westrona died two years ago with no direct heir, so there have been squabbles amongst the noble houses over whether or not the current queen has the right to the crown. Westrona is also rife with corruption and lawlessness. Dragons do not know nor care for the details of human law—they can only feel when the populace is on the brink of a violent conflict. It seems that brink has been reached.” Rilvor smiled a little. “The Reckoning will save lives, not cost them. The only reason nobles were executed in the past was that was the only justice humanity knew, and the dragons took their cue from us. We are more enlightened now. The dragons will defer to my judgment, and I do not plan on having anyone burned.”
Some of the panic began to subside, but Jasen still wasn’t at ease. “You just expelled many consorts who had no part in whatever their family was up to. Why?”
“Because it is a Reckoning. If the dragons have determined that members of the ruling class has taken advantage of their positions, then all who count themselves among that class must be called to answer for it. You say that the consorts being sent home are innocent, but they enjoy many privileges as a result of their pedigree. If their families are abusing their power, then why should they continue to enjoy those privileges?”
Jasen pulled himself out of Rilvor’s arms and turned away. “I don’t know. I just know that it doesn’t seem right.”
Rilvor put his hand on Jasen’s shoulder and turned him back around. “I am also disturbed by this turn of events, but this is my duty. That is why I must go to Westrona—to discover what has happened, and to make sure things are sorted out.”
Jasen leaned into him again. “I don’t want you to go,” he said, his voice muffled against Rilvor’s chest. He knew he sounded childish, but it was the truth, all the same.
“And I don’t want to leave you. But it must be done. I will right this, I promise.”
The sky darkened. They looked up—a dragon was heading toward them, growing larger and larger as it came closer. They moved back to make way for its landing. Jasen blinked up at the dragon in wonder. It was much larger than Tasenrad, its scales white and purple instead of the warm, red hues of Tasenrad.
Rilvor smiled at the dragon. “Hello, old friend. What have you gotten us into?”
The dragon snorted—a loud, hissing sound, as steam left its nostrils. Jasen wondered if he should be worried, but Rilvor was still smiling.
“Jasen, this is Woria—the Dragon Queen.”
“The queen?” Jasen echoed. The dragon blinked slowly and then nodded its head, as if in greeting.
“It is not the best description,” Rilvor continued. “Dragons do not have a hierarchy as humans do. But she is the one whose link to the humans is strongest, and the others follow her judgment.”
Jasen wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t seem frightening, exactly, but whereas Tasenrad had made him feel welcome, Woria had an air about her that was more restrained. He didn’t think he could do much more than tremble and stammer in her presence. He shut his eyes to try to get a hold of himself.
Jasen felt a hand touch his chin. When he opened his eyes, he met Rilvor’s gaze. “You have no reason to be frightened. No one will be harmed.”
But Jasen didn’t need assurances from Rilvor. Screwing up his courage, he moved toward Woria. He kept his gaze on the ground until he was right in front of her, so that he wouldn’t lose his nerve. He sucked in a deep breath and met her gaze again. “Is that true? That no one will be harmed?”
Woria tilted her head and blinked her eyes again. More steam puffed out from her nose. At last, she made a deep, low sound—like a moan, or growl, so low and deep that Jasen felt it in his bones. He had no idea what to make of it, but he wasn’t finished saying his piece. “People make mistakes. We aren’t always our best selves, but for the most part, we try. Please keep that in mind when you’re making your judgement.” He bowed awkwardly and added, “If it pleases Your Majesty.”
Woria let out another snort that sounded almost amused. Jasen’s mind became strangely foggy. As he was trying to orient himself again, a word swirled in his mind. Well-chosen. He didn’t know what that meant—it certainly wasn’t his own thought.
He was startled out of his trance by the sound of Rilvor chuckling. Jasen was surprised to find him standing by his side. He blinked—when had that happened? “Dragons aren’t ones to stand on ceremony. No need for formal addresses.”
Jasen didn’t respond right away—he still felt too mentally foggy. He put a hand to his temple.
The smile on Rivor’s lips faded. “Does something trouble you?”
Should he tell him what had happened? Jasen decided against it—he wasn’t sure what it had meant, and he had enough of dealing with mysteries for the day. “No,” he said, managing a weak smile.
Woria let out another snort, which sounded impatient. Rilvor took Jasen into his arms one more time. “I must go now,” he said.
“When will you be back?”
“I do not know. I hope to appoint some Westronans to deal with the aftermath, as it is their kingdom. And my ministers have made it very clear that they expect me back at Court as soon as possible.” Rilvor ran a finger over Jasen’s cheek. “I have unfinished business here.”
Jasen felt heat in his cheeks. “Hurry back, then.”
“I will.” He leaned forward, and for a moment Jasen thought that he would kiss him. And he did kiss him—only it was on the forehead. Before Jasen could protest, the king left his embrace and went to the dragon’s side. Woria leaned down and moved her wing to the side to allow Rilvor to mount her. Once Rilvor was firmly seated, the dragon ran down the draemir and lifted off, flying through the sky.
Jasen shielded his face from the sun with his hand and watched until the dragon was a speck on the horizon. He heaved a great sigh and rubbed his face. He supposed he should get back. He wondered if he was going to be in any trouble, but he couldn’t summon up the energy to care. Besides, he felt as if Lady Isalei probably had bigger things to worry about at the moment.
He made his way to the edge of the draemir and was about to enter the castle ground proper when he saw a guard rushing toward him. It seemed he was in trouble, after all. There was no sense in running, so he stayed where he was, arms folded, ready to meet whatever demand the guard was sure to bark out at him. But as the guard drew closer, he saw that it was Larley—and he didn’t seem as if he were there on official business.
“There you are—I’ve been looking for you,” he said, panting a little. “Did you get to speak with the king?”
Jasen nodded.
“Did he happen to mention if the Reckoning is affecting merely noble families, or are commoners also affected?”
Jasen furrowed his brow. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason!” Larely said a bit too quickly. But in spite of his words, his wild-eyed look only grew wilder. “So just the nobles, then?”
“Are you worried about someone?”
“No! Of course not! My father is a legitimate businessman!”
“Right,” Jasen said slowly. “He runs a winery, doesn’t he? I don’t see why the dragons would have any interest in him.”
Larely nodded to himself and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “Yes, of course. Why would they? It’s fine, I’m sure.”
“Of course.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he wasn’t being entirely truthful. Jasen looked around—they were standing in a rather conspicuous place. He took Larely by the hand. “Why don’t you come with me so we can talk somewhere a little more private?”
&nbs
p; Larely allowed himself to be led back into the draemir and into the trees. Once the castle was out of sight and he was sure they were truly alone, Jasen folded his arms and gave Larely a look. “Are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you now?”
Larely opened his mouth as if to deny it again, but then his shoulders slumped. He leaned against a tree and stared at his feet. Jasen didn’t press him any further, waiting for him to begin. “I wasn’t telling the truth. My father isn’t a legitimate businessman,” he said eventually.
“So he doesn’t run a winery?”
“No, he does. It’s just the winery isn’t his primary business.”
“Then what is his primary business?”
For a moment, Jasen didn’t think he would answer, but then he heaved a great sigh and spoke again. “Banditry, for a start. Or rather, not directly, but bandits come to them to convert their stolen goods into coins. He is the biggest name in the black market of the country. It isn’t a secret, exactly—he pays his liege lord to ignore his activities.”
Jasen blinked. It seemed as if the dragons had the right idea about the country, if nobles were accepting money from criminals.
Larely continued: “That’s why I came to the Draelands—to get away from my family’s ‘business.’ I never wanted any part of it, but everyone in Westrona knew what family I came from. There was basically no choice but for me to become a criminal as well. So I changed my name, managed somehow to get a position as a guard, of all things, and I haven’t spoken a word to them in over five years.”
“In five years?” Jasen knew all about having a complicated relationship with family, but he couldn’t imagine not speaking to his father for that long of a time. “Do you think they’re worried about you?”
“I don’t know. I did give a rather impassioned speech about how disgusted I was with the whole business and vowed to never return, but they didn’t take me very seriously.” Larely rubbed his face. “I still don’t agree with what they do, but at the same time, they are my family. If they’re in trouble, I want to be there for them. But how can I return after making such a scene? Would they even welcome me? And if I give up my job here, what will become of me? I don’t know what to do.”