Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, I had a visitor. “Major Caparro,” I said as the headmaster walked into my room with my usual guard as an escort. “Good to finally see you.” I kept my voice bland, hiding the burning resentment I felt. Why did he make me stew for three days?
“I’m sorry you’ve been kept waiting so long,” he said, surprising me with the apology. “The war preparations have been taking all our time and attention, and I have had little free time to decide what to do with you.”
“War preparations?” I pounced on the topic. “What news is there of the approaching army? I’ve been asking for days and no one will answer me.”
“The Zallabarian army has been sweeping over the north almost unopposed,” Caparro said heavily. “They are expected to reach Zuar City within the week at this pace. Even so, Colonel Roche is insisting on the court-martial. She has just arrived from the border on dragonback, along with General Sarte and several other high officers, to assist with the defense of the capital, so we have made time for the court-martial since the appropriate officials are here.”
My heart leapt into my throat. “When is the hearing going to take place?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
I swallowed against a sudden rush of nerves—this was all happening way too fast.
“Here,” Caparro said before I could think of what to say. He handed me pens, ink, and a large sheaf of papers from a satchel he’d carried in. “Write down a detailed report of everything that has happened, and everything you have done, since you first arrived at camp. It will save us time.”
I set the supplies on a small table next to the bed, then clenched my hands into fists in my lap to hide their shaking. “Anything else?” I asked as he rose.
“Get some sleep,” he said before striding out.
The door closed behind him, the bolt slamming into place as the guard locked me in again.
I mulled over the encounter for quite some time after he’d left. Major Caparro hadn’t been rude to me; in fact, he’d been unfailingly polite, and had even apologized, though aside from being confined, I hadn’t been mistreated in any way. But neither had he been friendly. There was no way to tell how he felt about my court-martial, if he thought I was innocent or guilty, or if he was reserving judgment until the hearing. I didn’t know how Major Falkieth felt either—she’d barely looked at me as she and the other riders had brought me in, but she’d treated me with her usual stern manner.
I reached out to Lessie and told her about Caparro’s visit. “Good,” she said, sounding much more optimistic than I felt. “It is about time that we got out of here—the Zallabarians will arrive any day now, and we cannot afford to sit around when we could be helping.”
“Very true.” I tried to smile, even though Lessie couldn’t see my face, but I couldn’t muster the effort. “I should start writing my report now.”
“Take your time and make sure to include every detail you think will help our cause,” Lessie said. “And don’t lose hope,” she added, reading my despair even though I tried to hide it from her. “If the worst should come to pass, I’ll break you out again and we will join Muza in his secret lair. It is far, far away from here—nobody will be able to find us.”
I hid a sigh at the childlike confidence in her voice. Times like this reminded me that for all Lessie’s size, strength, and occasional glimmers of wisdom, she was still a baby. But just because I was miserable didn’t mean I had to drag down her mood as well, so I let her have her optimism and turned my attention to the sheaf of papers on the table.
It took me all afternoon to write the report, and by the time I finished, the ground was littered with crumpled pieces of paper from sections I’d started and scrapped several times. I read the report three times, added a few more details, then handed it off to the guard when he brought me my evening meal.
The night brought little sleep. I spent most of it tossing and turning, agonizing over the report. Little details kept cropping up in my mind that I wished I’d added, and I questioned whether or not I should have scratched out certain sentences or even entire passages. That report was my only shot at freedom—if it wasn’t sufficiently convincing, I would be thrown in a military prison, forced to rot there until I was old and gray. I harbored no illusions that Lessie would be able to break me free; I wasn’t the first dragon rider to be sentenced to a lifetime in military prison, and I was certain there were protocols to keep Lessie from doing exactly what she had planned. They would likely sedate and chain her, as they’d done while I was trapped on Traggar.
A female guard awoke me early the next morning, with a freshly laundered uniform in one hand, and restraints in the other. “Come on,” she said after she bound my hands. “The headmaster wants you cleaned up before your hearing.”
The guard escorted me to the bathing rooms, where I was allowed a quick shower and a chance to change clothes—the latter of which the guard had to help me with. The restraints were loose enough that I could give my hair and skin a good scrub. The hot water and soap washed away not only grime but also the layer of melancholy that had settled over my soul. By the time I emerged, I felt brighter, more alert. My stomach churned with anxiety now that the numbing despair had disappeared, but I forced down some porridge and tried not to think of the myriad ways this hearing could go wrong.
Once I was dressed, my guard, along with three others, herded me into a brougham. I was expected to be brought to army HQ, but instead I was taken to the Dome of Justice, the government building at the center of town where all court proceedings were held. The silver dome glinted like a beacon in the morning light, and a white marble statue of a blindfolded woman in flowing robes graced the entrance. Her arms were extended at her sides, the right one lifted high as she held a feather in that hand, the left one dragging almost to her thigh, weighted down by a gruesome severed head. Hephastia, I thought numbly as we walked past her, the ancient goddess of justice.
My legs turned to jelly as they escorted me through the halls, but I forced myself to walk straight and tall. Just because I was being brought low didn’t mean I had to let go of my dignity. I’d done the right thing, and I would maintain that position to my grave.
I expected the staff to make me cool my heels in some waiting room for hours, but to my surprise, I was ushered into a small courtroom. Three rows of chairs were split down the middle to form a pathway to the front of the room, where a high bench loomed. Three of the five chairs were occupied by a stern-looking colonel, Caparro, and another major I didn’t know. Two large desks faced the high bench, and a transcriptionist with some kind of typewriter sat at a smaller one off to the side. My stomach twisted at the sight of Colonel Roche seated at the desk on the right. Her expression was schooled, but I didn’t miss the smug gleam in her eyes as our gazes met. I betrayed nothing of my own emotions as I was directed to sit behind the desk on the opposite side of the courtroom.
Silence descended over the chamber, punctuated only by the presiding colonel shuffling papers as he reviewed the case. I met Major Caparro’s eyes, and my breath hitched as I caught a flicker of sympathy before he looked away. Did I have someone in my corner after all?
Finally, the colonel cleared his throat. A fourth man, who had been standing nearby, stepped up and ordered us to rise. He rattled off the details of the hearing in a brisk, no-nonsense voice. He announced the officers presiding over my hearing as Colonel Morel and Major Bernard, as well as Major Caparro. I gritted my teeth as the charges being brought were listed—treason, insubordination, murder, desertion, and a few others I wasn’t even sure I understood. But it didn’t matter, the message was clear enough—I was not only unfit for duty in the eyes of the military, but I was also an enemy of the state.
“Private Kenrook,” Colonel Morel said when the man was finished. “How do you plead to these charges.”
“Not guilty.”
“Very well.” He turned to Colonel Roche. “What evidence do you have to substantiate the charges
you are bringing against Kenrook?”
Colonel Roche clasped her hands behind her back. “Sir, as detailed in my report, Kenrook is willfully insubordinate. She has defied her superior officers multiple times while out on patrol, risking both her life and the life of her partner to save a few stranded pirates on a sinking ship—”
“Pirates?” My blood boiled at the outright lie. “They were law-abiding Elantian citizens, and they—”
“Silence!” Morel barked. “You will not interrupt, and you will speak only when spoken to. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth, clenching my hands behind my back. I wanted to plow my fist straight through Roche’s smarmy face, but all I would gain would be short-lived satisfaction, and probably another decade added to my sentence.
“Good.” He turned back to Roche. “Continue.”
Roche went on to paint a truly villainous picture of me. She claimed that Carvis was a seasoned, intelligent rider, and would never have flown into that storm of his own volition. More than likely, she claimed, I had deliberately drawn him into it so I could kill him and return to the enemy. I’d then sent my dragon back to the mainland so she wouldn’t interfere when I joined up with my old mentor, Salcombe, who was likely a Zallabarian spy. Then, when the Zallabarian-Traggar alliance fell through, I must have called Lessie back to help Salcombe and me flee the country. She was convinced we went to Dardil to do more informant work for the military before the Zallabarian army came through.
“It’s a good thing Lieutenant Jallis and his team managed to bring Kenrook in when they did,” she finished. “This Salcombe character might have convinced her that consorting with the enemy was more attractive than serving her own people, but I’m sure the Zallabarians would have relished the chance to shoot Lessie out of the sky. Kenrook is a danger not only to herself and to the military but also to her own dragon. She must be put away for her own good.”
“This is all well and good,” Major Caparro said, “but I must point out that there is no evidence that Salcombe is a Zallabarian spy. He is a criminal, certainly, but all the intelligence gathered by the city guard on him suggests that he operates independently and has no allegiance to anyone but himself.”
“Fine,” Roche said, “but the rest of the timeline and facts line up.” She shot a triumphant look my way. “My version of events is far more plausible than whatever story Kenrook has concocted.”
I locked every muscle in my body down tight at the taunting undercurrent in Roche’s words. She wanted me to lash out, to show the officers that I was violent and out of control and every bit as insubordinate as she claimed. Instead, I stared straight ahead and said nothing, waiting as the officers bent their heads and whispered amongst themselves.
Finally, Colonel Morel turned to me. “We have read your report, Private,” he said gravely. “It is very detailed, and does coincide with quite a few events that our own intelligence agents have confirmed. But so does Colonel Roche’s version of events. Why should we believe you over her?”
I met his gaze squarely. “Because I was there, and she was not.”
The three officers questioned me at length about my report, making me go over several details again and again, challenging me to see if I could stick to the same story. “Her story is quite compelling,” Caparro said, “and everything she’s told us has been borne out by her dragon, Lessie.”
“Excuse me,” Colonel Roche said before one of the other officers could respond, “but are you really going to take the ramblings of a mere animal into account?” Disdain dripped from each word, so viscous I could practically taste it.
The other officers stiffened. “Are you implying that dragons are no more intelligent than the average beast of burden?” Colonel Morel snapped.
Colonel Roche paled, as if she’d realized her mistake. “I merely mean that the dragon is biased,” she backpedaled. “Of course her account is going to match her rider’s. The two of them can communicate telepathically, read each other’s minds!”
A heated discussion ensued between Colonel Roche and the presiding officers. Major Caparro defended me, claiming that this hearing had been put together far too quickly, without the chance for either party to gather a list of witnesses, and that they couldn’t possibly make a decision with such blatant lack of evidence. Colonel Roche insisted that the deaths of Carvis and Hallus were evidence enough, and in wartime they could hardly afford to have a murderer and a traitor amongst their ranks.
“Colonel Roche is right,” Major Bernard said, and my stomach, which had been remarkably steady throughout the hearing, began to churn again. “It’s not as if we have the luxury of peacetime, where we can easily gather the witnesses together. We only have the accounts of the parties involved to go on.”
“That’s right,” Colonel Roche said, confident again. “Any witnesses will have been deployed by now and cannot easily be recalled to attend to this matter.”
“Are you saying that—”
The rest of Major Caparro’s outraged statement was cut off as the doors to the courtroom crashed open. Giddy relief rushed through me as Lord Tavarian strode in, silver eyes blazing. He wore a black coat over his tailored gray suit and black shoes, and though they were dusty with travel, the stains didn’t detract from his commanding presence one bit.
“What is going on here?” he demanded, pinning Morel with a cold stare. Strands of midnight hair had worked their way free from the queue at the nape of his neck to frame his angular face, making him look wild. A thrill raced through my blood as I stared at him—he looked ready to do battle, and on my behalf, no less!
“We are conducting a court-martial on a soldier under my command,” Colonel Roche barked, “and you have no right to interrupt—”
Tavarian spun and raked her with a look that would have flayed the skin from most men. “I am Lord Varrick Tavarian, of House Tavarian,” he said in a voice like thunder. “Zara Kenrook may have served under your command, but she is of House Tavarian as well, and therefore my responsibility.” Dismissing her, he rounded on Colonel Morel again, who had gone white as a sheet. “Why is Private Kenrook facing this hearing alone? She has the legal right for a representative of my house to defend her, and at the very least a member of my household should have been contacted so counsel could have been procured. Did you ignore protocol because you incorrectly assumed she was not from a prominent family?”
“I—” Morel paused, clearly thinking better of what he’d been about to say, and cleared his throat. “Of course we know she is of your house,” he said weakly, “but in wartime, legal niceties cannot always be observed, and there was no way to contact you.”
“I am here now,” Tavarian said, “and I can vouch for her story.”
“You haven’t even heard her story,” Major Bernard protested.
“I don’t need to,” he said, and those simple words warmed me from the inside out. The knot in my chest loosened, and I took a full breath for the first time since the hearing started. “Private Kenrook was held in Traggar under duress by the criminal known as Salcombe, who was forcing her to help him retrieve a powerful magical artifact directly linked to the dragon god, Zakyiar.” He ignored Colonel Roche’s snort of disbelief. “Despite being under extreme duress, Zara was resourceful and quick-witted enough to orchestrate a fight between the Zallabarian ambassador and the Traggaran king that ultimately resulted in the dissolution of the pending alliance between their countries. Through her actions, she has saved thousands of lives. She is a war hero, not a criminal.”
The presiding officers bent their heads together, muttering amongst themselves. The triumphant gleam in Major Caparro’s eyes, coupled by the fact that he alone had shown no surprise when Tavarian had stormed in, gave me pause. Had he known Tavarian was coming? If so, why hadn’t he given me any warning?
“Officers,” Tavarian interrupted after less than a minute had passed. “Are you questioning my testimony?”
“No, of course not,” Morel said
. “Your word is above reproach, Lord Tavarian. It’s just that—"
“Then this hearing is over,” Tavarian said. “It is illegal anyway and, unless you have any evidence to either refute my testimony or prove any of Colonel Roche’s claims, is a waste of all our time. I insist that you remand Private Kenrook and her dragon, Lessie, into my custody until further notice.”
“I concur,” Major Caparro said. “This hearing can be postponed while Kenrook secures proper representation and until both sides are allowed time to obtain proper evidence.”
“Very well,” Morel said, albeit reluctantly. “Let the record show that Private Kenrook has been remanded into Lord Tavarian’s custody and will remain there until after the Zallabarian invasion has been dealt with and we can reschedule.”
“Excellent.” Tavarian offered me his arm, his stone-like expression betraying nothing. “Come, Zara.”
I took his hand and tried not to grin as we passed Colonel Roche. Her face was beet red, and she looked like she was trying very hard not to screech at the top of her lungs. If she held it in any longer, steam would billow straight out the top of her head. As we walked out of the courtroom, I was surprised to see Major Falkieth in one of the chairs toward the back. There had been a half dozen people seated in the gallery when I’d arrived, but I didn’t recall seeing her there. Her steel-colored hair was windswept, and she wore dragon rider leathers. She smiled as I passed, and that gesture of kindness loosened the last bit of my control. A huge grin spread across my face, and I actually whooped for joy as we walked into the hall.
“Try to show a little dignity,” Tavarian said dryly as we exited the building. But there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at me, and he squeezed my arm as if he secretly felt the same way.
“I have plenty of dignity,” I said haughtily as we walked out into the sunshine. Gods, the sunshine! The sky was clear, the clouds were fluffy, and the scent of freshly baked pastries teased my nostrils, a faint whiff from a bakery a block or so away that made my stomach rumble. I could eat, I thought, but that had to wait. My dragon came first, as always.
Might of the Dragon Page 17