Astra had no problem knowing what she felt.
“That deceitful whore,” she said, peering down at Miranda. Soon enough a single silver trumpet would blow and the contest would begin. “She fooled us all. I would kill her myself if given the chance. Watching the true Siccora take care of her will have to suffice.”
But Coran didn’t want to see her die. He knew he should want that. Astra was right. She had deceived all of them, him most of all. But for some reason he didn’t feel like he’d been lied to. And as he looked down at her, his heart pounded in his chest. He still loved her, and he feared for her life. He had half a mind to transform himself, to swoop down and protect her. But that would be madness, to interfere in a ritual fight. Chaos would ensue and open war would be inevitable. He would also bring the stain of dishonor on his name and his clan.
With all this going on, he had almost forgotten about the purple stone around his neck. While Astra held his right hand, he took the crystal in his left, rolling it between his fingers as he looked down below.
“What is that, brother?” Astra asked.
“Nothing."
Siccora, on the left side of the courtyard, had changed into a sleek suit of red-scaled armor. Miranda, at the other end, still wore the wedding dress Astra had given her.
“I don’t even want it back,” Astra had said. “She has soiled it by putting it on. I would burn it, but hopefully the Wildfire girl will do that for me, with the imposter still in it.”
Miranda still wore the golden necklace embedded with what they had called the Emberstone. After the commotion of the ceremony, the Wildfires had demanded she remove it. Thalgar had been summoned, but to no avail. The clasp was fused. Magda had even examined it, waving her gnarled stick over Miranda’s neck and chanting a few incantations. But she declared it unmovable.
“Leave it be,” Siccora had said. “I will claim it from her ashes.”
In preparation for the battle, each woman had been given the choice of a weapon. Neither had chosen one. Siccora’s weapons were her teeth and claws, along with her molten breath. Miranda had simply seemed in shock, resigned to whatever fate decided to do with her.
The silver trumpet blew, the sound echoing off the interior walls of the courtyard. Corban wanted to get up and leave. What good would it serve to watch Miranda die? And then what? He was going to be wed to a second woman in the same day, a woman he knew not at all. He already didn’t like her. The first time he had laid eyes on Miranda, he had felt a connection. But something was going on with the real Siccora. True, Miranda had lied, but Siccora’s story also rang false. How did a human steal away such a precious relic? And for what purpose? To come here and play the part of another woman? How would she even know about Xandakar? No, everything about Siccora’s story reeked of falsehood.
But there was no time for an inquiry. The Wildfires had insisted that the combat take place as soon as possible, and Corban had no legitimate grounds to deny them.
Calling it a fight was likely to be generous. Corban looked over the edge of the balcony to witness what he expected to be a slaughter.
He was unsurprised to see Siccora immediately begin to shift into dragonform. She bowed forward, her body beginning to grow as leathery red and black wings emerged from behind her shoulders. He looked down at Miranda, and what he saw there did surprise him. He had only known her a short time, but it turned out he didn’t really know her as well as he thought.
He had expected her to run, to try to hide or escape. Such an attempt would have been futile. All ways in and out of the courtyard had been sealed once the women were inside. But he had seen the eyes of mortals when confronted with certain death at the claws of a merciless dragon. He had been that dragon on more than one occasion. And even the strongest and bravest of men lost their nerve under the shadow of a dragon. Nearly all tried to run, to find a place to hide even when there was none.
But instead of running or cowering, Miranda stood up straight and walked toward her adversary. Even from this distance, Corban could see the serene look on her face. In that moment, his nascent love for her only grew. She stood no chance against Siccora, who was nearly fully-transformed now. But Miranda had apparently accepted responsibility for actions and resigned herself to her fate.
“She’s mad,” Astra said.
“No,” Corban said. “She is brave.”
“Mad or brave,” Astra said. “She is about to die.”
Siccora, fully transformed, bounded toward Miranda, closing the distance with a couple of leaps. The dragon reared up on her hind legs, tucked her wings behind her back, and her chest swelled as she took in a great breath.
Miranda stopped in front of her, spreading out her arms as if to say: Here I am. Do what you will.
Corban didn’t think he would be able to watch what happened next. He wanted to look away, but that would be weak. He glanced at his sister, who was watching with rapt eagerness, a smile on her lips. He looked back down to see Siccora’s gaping maw open wide to exhale a torrent of fiery breath.
Miranda was engulfed in flame.
13: Miranda
She stood at one end of the courtyard. The real Siccora stood at the other, pacing back and forth, waiting for the signal for the fight to begin. Only it wasn’t going to be a real fight, was it? She was going to die.
How the hell at it come to this? Just a few hours ago she was about to start her new life as a queen, married to a man she had grown to love in only a couple of days. Then that lying bitch Siccora had shown up out of nowhere to destroy everything. How the hell had she gotten back here without the necklace?
Miranda supposed it didn’t matter. She’d been whisked here against her will and tried to hide behind a lie. It had almost worked, but now that the lie was exposed, everything was going to come crashing to an end. She thought about trying to run, but where would she run to? She looked up, scanning the walls. She could see faces far above, all about to watch her die, but she couldn’t see him. She had a brief fantasy of Corban diving toward her, transforming into that huge blue dragon she had seen from the window, and saving her at the last minute. But that was stupid. Wasn’t going to happen.
Across the courtyard, Siccora was starting to morph, her body growing and stretching.
Might as well face the music, Miranda thought. Own up to what comes next, and just hope it’s over quickly.
She began walking toward Siccora. She caught the dragon-woman’s eye as it was halfway between transforming, still human, but with the black vertical iris of a reptile. There was a glint of surprise in her eyes. She had expected Miranda to run, to hide, or maybe to beg.
Fuck her, Miranda thought. Why give her the pleasure?
As she walked toward the fully-formed red dragon, the beast bounded and then pulled up before her.
Miranda spread her arms. She’d read somewhere that burning to death was one of the most painful ways to go. But whoever wrote that probably hadn’t been talking about dragonfire. Maybe it was so hot it would melt her in a heartbeat, and if she were lucky she wouldn’t feel a thing.
Siccora reared her head, took a deep breath, and opened her jaws. Miranda saw the orange curl of flame at the back of her throat just before she closed her eyes.
This is it, she thought.
The flame hit her. It didn’t hurt at all. The fire swirled around her, blowing her hair back. It felt a little like air dancing across her body. The dress she was wearing burned up in a second. She could feel it blasted to ash and blown away from her body. But as she stood naked, the breath of the dragon was like a warm breeze.
Miranda felt the flame subside and opened her eyes.
Siccora stood there, raised up on her hinds legs, tendrils of smoke trailing out of her nostrils. Now, as she looked down at Miranda naked and unblemished, her eyes were fully wide with surprise.
Miranda looked at the patch of ground she stood on, now scorched black, smoking and steam rising. The smell of burned grass filled her nose.
Holy
shit, she thought. I’m not dead. I’m not even hurt.
She could hear the murmuring voices of the spectators above. They had all expected her to be burned to a crisp. Hell, she had expected to be burned to a crisp. But she was fine.
Miranda moved her right hand to her neck, running her fingers along the thick gold links to the warm red Emberstone.
It protected me, she thought. But as she looked up at Siccora, she wondered whether it mattered. The fire hadn’t killed her, but those claws looked like they were nearly a foot long and razor sharp. The dragon’s teeth looked just as dangerous. And that dazed look in the dragon’s eyes had faded, replaced by complete and utter rage.
She was about to get torn to pieces. But then beneath her fingertips she felt the stone stir. Some kind of energy pulsed through it, syncing with her heartbeat, radiating through her body. She felt her body begin to change and grow.
Oh God, she thought. What’s happening?
Siccora had raised her clawed right hand, ready to swipe down at Miranda. But she paused again, the confused look returning to her eyes.
Miranda felt her muscles ripple as waves of energy moved through them. She felt every bone in her body begin to bend like rubber. Then she felt her skin stretch as she swelled outward.
Her fingers curved into claws. Her skin became thick and scaly. Her neck and lower jaw elongated. She felt spines breaking out across the top of her head and the back of her neck. A thick rope of flesh sprouted from her tailbone and grew, giving her the sensation of an entirely new body part. She felt two masses forming under her shoulder blades, new bones and nerves shooting through them. She flexed her back and felt the growing wings spread.
Miranda looked down at her new body, glistening with red-orange scales.
Holy fuck, she thought. I’m a dragon.
The necklace and its stone had been absorbed into her body. She could feel the stone inside her now, at the base of her throat. She knew she could make it glow red hot if she wanted, that it would give her the ability to breathe fire.
Miranda felt power surge throughout her entire body. She wished for the stone to grow as hot as it could and it answered, becoming a nexus of searing heat in her throat. It didn’t hurt, though. It felt amazing.
The other dragon was just standing there, dumbfounded. Miranda took in a deep breath, opened her massive jaws, and a blast of hot white fire roared out of her. The flame hit Siccora in the chest, flinging her all the way to the far wall. She slammed into the icy bricks, which cracked and splintered in a spider web pattern under her weight.
Miranda took in a deep breath of air, feeling the smoke drift up and out of her throat. She looked at Siccora, slumped against the cracked wall, dazed but still conscious. She looked down at her hands, now giant red claws tipped with black claws.
How was this happening? The Emberstone. Magda had said something about the stone choosing its owner rather than the other way around. Maybe she was really meant to wear it after all.
She looked up and the other dragon was climbing to her feet, shaking off the attack. Siccora bent low and began to beat her wings.
She’s going to fly right at me, Miranda thought. She took another deep breath, intending to hit her with another blast, but she couldn’t muster the same heat she just had. I probably have to wait a while before using it again, she thought. And she didn’t have much time, because Siccora had just launched straight at her.
Everything happened so quickly Miranda didn’t have time to think. She just reacted. Just as Siccora was nearly upon her, claws outstretched, Miranda crouched and spun, whipping her tail around. Her scaly lash struck Siccora, deflecting her downward, knocking her into the earth. The whole courtyard shook, the walls rumbling with the shock as dirt flew up into the air.
She looked to where Siccora now lay in a heap. Miranda pounced, leaping high in the air, flapping her wings twice to gain some height, then slammed down on top of Siccora. The ground shook again as her claws landed on the other dragon’s chest, driving and pinning her flat.
Siccora’s eyes were half open, looking up at her in pain and defeat.
“Magda was right,” Siccora hissed weakly. “The stone chose you. You are no imposter, and I was a fool. Finish me and take what is rightfully yours.”
From where she was perched on top of her, Miranda could easily kill her in any number of ways. Her throat was exposed. The scales there looked softer than the ones on her back. Miranda figured she could reach down with her jaws and snap her neck. Or she could swipe her claws across her throat.
Miranda raised her right arm, claws extended.
“Do it,” Siccora hissed, anger flashing in her eyes. “Finish me. Our laws dictate that we fight to the death.”
Miranda lowered her arm and stepped back off Siccora’s chest.
“Your laws are stupid,” Miranda said, her dragon voice coming rich and deep out of her throat. She held out her claw, offering it to Siccora. “We should be sisters, not enemies. There’s no reason for you to die.”
Siccora eyed her outstretched claw warily, then took it with her own. Miranda pulled her to her feet. Siccora slumped, then began to shrink, transforming back into her human form.
Miranda wished herself to transform as well and found that it was like curling yourself into a ball, absorbing all that extra flesh and muscle. When she had transformed into a dragon, she had been naked. Now that she transformed back, she found that she wore a suit of red skin-tight scales, just like the others.
A dozen guards were approaching them from either side of the courtyard. Miranda saw Corban and Astra not far behind them. A small white owl fluttered down from up high.
“This has never happened before,” Siccora said. “Not that I have seen, nor in any stories I have ever heard.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Miranda said, smiling at her.
The owl landed before them, becoming Magda just as the guards surrounded them.
“It seems I was correct,” Magda said. “Your possession of the Emberstone was no mistake.”
“I don’t understand what just happened here,” Miranda said.
“You have dragon blood in you,” Magda said. “That much is clear. But you have also violated our sacred laws.”
“What? By not killing someone even after they were down?” Miranda asked. She looked at Corban, but couldn’t read his expression.
Astra stepped forward. “Take her away,” she said, nodding to the guards. Four of them stepped around Siccora. Before they led her away, she turned to Miranda. “Thank you,” Siccora said. Then she left with them, head bowed, unresisting.
Miranda watched her go. “What’s going to happen to her?”
“She’ll be put in the dungeons for now,” Astra said. “And executed on the morrow.”
“What?” Miranda said. “Are you kidding me?”
“You should be more worried about your own fate,” Magda said. “I will need to convene with the counsel to decide what should be done. In the meantime, you are not to leave this keep.” Magda looked to Corban for acknowledgment. He nodded.
“But this is crazy,” Miranda said. “I just—”
Corban stepped forward and put his arm around her. He began to lead her away, whispering to her. “I will see that no harm comes to you,” he said.
Miranda wanted to protest more, to say it just didn’t make any sense that they expected her to kill Siccora. Executing her was lunacy. But his presence calmed her. His strong arm felt good around her shoulder.
As they walked across the long courtyard, she felt her breathing steady and realized she had still been in shock. And why shouldn’t she be? She had just steeled herself for imminent death. Not only had she not died, but she’d been transformed into a giant mythical beast. On top of that, she’d bested another dragon in combat.
It’s a wonder that I haven’t completely flipped, she thought. She reached up and touched the Emberstone, feeling its heat and power. You have dragon blood in you. How the hel
l was that possible? Her father? The one who had left them? She found herself grasping at snippets of her past, trying to remember any details about him. But all she got were faded remnants: the shadow of his voice as he tucked her into bed, the roughness of his hand as she ran her fingers across his palm. She didn’t even know his name. Her mother had never said much about him, and what she had said was terrible. So Miranda had written him completely out of life.
They walked down the steps together, and once they were alone in the hall, he stopped and hugged her fiercely. She stopped wondering about the father she never knew and turned all her attention to Corban.
The scales on their chest armor slid against one another as they hugged. His lips were near her ear.
“I thought I would see you die today.”
“Me too,” she said.
“All this time I thought you were dragonborn,” Corban said. “I didn’t know quite what to feel when I thought that was a lie. But it turns out the lie was true after all.”
“I’m still not Siccora,” Miranda said.
He drew back from the hug, still holding her shoulders. “No,” he said, smiling. “I never wanted an alliance with the Wildfires anyway. You are obviously born of the red clan, but with your ancestry in question, the truce is up in the air. Perhaps Wygard can help you find out about your past. But until then, the situation here is going to be very complicated.”
“Yeah,” Miranda said. “Especially since your family is planning on executing Siccora.”
“Yes,” he said. “That is our way. Karth will have to abide, but who knows how he will react. There could be war after all.”
“What do we do?”
He looked down at her, cupping one jaw in his hand. “What we do right now is retire to my chambers. We put all thoughts of executions and wars aside. We celebrate our binding.”
She smiled up at him. “I guess we never did get to make it official with a kiss,” she said. She leaned forward just as he bent down, their lips meeting. She tasted his cool breath as her tongue licked against his.
Dragon Blue: A Lie That's True (The Dragonlords of Xandakar, Book1) Page 9