“We lost Nador and Rose in the arena. And Kemi's twin.”
“I know. The entirety of Bacra will know soon. Nylian declared war on the Fae just after you were brought here. He wants to speak with you, but he's patient. He said he'll wait until you're less disoriented and feeling a little better.”
“How long was I out for this time?” I asked. Serida stretched her legs, then repositioned herself at my shoulder. She yawned and laid her chin on my forehead. I savored the warmth of her scales, her lilac scent, the calm and steady rhythm of our unison hearts. We were exactly where we were supposed to be—together.
Shan bit his lip and stared at the nearest window. The world beyond the sill was dark and quiet. “Eight or nine hours. It's the middle of the night. I think. The medics braced you up and now we're in my suite. I'm not allowed out, so I asked them to let you recover here.”
“Why aren't you allowed out?” I asked.
“Because I'm a sarcastic, belligerent sardwicket,” Shan said, grinning. He absently spun the binding bracelet around his wrist. “Don't worry about it. It's temporary, just a little house arrest until I get myself together and start showing some gods-damned respect.”
“You seem nervous. Are you okay?” I asked.
Shan bent to allow Lumin to climb his arm and sit on his shoulder. “I'll never be okay, but I can be better. We're a little better now, aren't we, Lumin?”
“Where's Marita?”
Shan nodded toward the fireplace. I couldn't bend far enough to see what he was looking at. “She sat down on the settee and fell asleep a little while ago, right after she got back from talking to Iefyr and Ragan. She didn't sleep last night. Too frantic trying to find someone to go out to Wrath Peak to find Liantor and save you. I don't know where all the warlocks were hiding, but it certainly wasn't here because it was too late for Rose, too late for Nador, too late for Prince Kailandrian, and the Fae will be ash before long. I don't know how to convince Marita it wasn't her fault that she had so much trouble finding a sarding warlock.”
“Why would it be her fault?” I asked.
Shan shuddered and crossed his arms over his chest as Lumin nuzzled his pointed ear. “Same reason Ragan feels guilty, but none of us could stop what was already in motion.” Shan held a finger up and swayed as he swung it before his face. “Side to side, perpetual pendulum. Can't do anything but ride the wave and fight to keep our heads above water. You feel guilty, too. I know you do. It's just the way you are.”
The fire crackled and shadows shifted across the white walls.
Shan returned to the bed and carefully sat down. Lumin hopped off his shoulder and curled up alongside Serida. Shan touched the back of his hand to my forehead. Concern crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I don't think we have to worry about a fever this time. You need to go back to sleep. I've got some sort of poppy potion for you. It'll ease the pain and knock you out, and there's a healing spell in it. Nylian did that.”
“What is he? I know he's not a warlock, but the twins didn't have the chance to tell me.”
Shan picked up a blue dropper bottle from the nightstand and drew a dose. “Lightbinder witch. I'm not entirely sure what that means yet when it comes to his specific magic, but he has some healing skills. Nothing direct, more like infusing spells into potions and whatnot. See?” Shan held the vial to the light. Tiny silver flecks floated like stars in the shimmering liquid. “Speeds up healing without the side effects of those awful chocolates our poor Nador got into. I have no idea what else he can do with his skills aside from create magical objects, and I doubt he'll tell me. He's kind of . . . strange.”
“Stranger than you?” I asked.
“Maybe. Probably.” Shan's nose crinkled and he lowered the bottle. “I think Zinnia will have the same sort of magic. Her aura is similar to his, just undeveloped.”
“I miss her. I bet she's getting big now, wherever she is.”
Shan held the dropper to my mouth. The potion tasted of poppy seeds and maple. The sedating effect was nearly instantaneous and my eyelids drooped.
“You'll see her soon. I won't, but you will,” Shan said, a faint smile on his lips. He leaned over me and kissed my forehead. “Don't fight the sleep, just float upon the current. Everything's changing now, so don't struggle or you'll drown. Just ride the current, Tessen. Just accept the tide, little brother. I love you and always will. Go to sleep.”
∆∆∆
I woke next to find myself drowning in daylight instead of firelight. Marita sat next to me on the bed and Kemi was in a chair next to her, a knit hat covering her nearly-bald head. I tried to turn my head to look at them, but the pain in my back told me to keep still.
“Where's Shan?” I asked.
Marita startled, then touched my shoulder. “Sleeping on the rug by the fireplace. He's not keen on beds, is he?”
“Oh, you noticed? He's been like that since the caves. Sorry I took over your bed.”
Marita shrugged and rested her head against the headboard. “This is a suite and there's a second bedroom. Well, more of a closet with a bed, but it'll do. Iefyr's sleeping in there right now since it doesn't have any windows. He's light-sensitive from a concussion.”
I carefully reached across Marita to touch Kemi's knee. I still couldn't figure out what to say to her. I couldn't ask her if she was all right because she wasn't. “How are you feeling?”
Kemi shrugged and drew her splinted arm closer to her chest. “The funeral pyres were lit this morning. Nador was honored with a place alongside my brother. There wasn't anything left of Rose to burn, and my father wouldn't give her a symbolic pyre because she was Fae. She saved my life, all of our lives, and that's how he thanked her.”
“He was looking for an excuse to start a war, and the Fae handed him the body of his seventh son,” Marita said. She glanced at Kemi, whose eyes overflowed with tears. “I've upset you again. I'm sorry.”
Kemi shook her head and looked away.
“Where's Ragan?” I asked. Maybe it would help Kemi if I changed the topic.
“Arguing with my father,” Kemi said, eyes still averted. “He offered his services as an operative and to join Anthora in the coming war, and my father declined. He said he has a better use for him. Ragan doesn't believe him, and I don't blame him. He wants to avenge his mother as much as I want to avenge my brother.”
“Ragan needs to take some time to figure things out,” Marita said.
Kemi closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek. “You don't understand. What my father did to him was an intentional insult. Ragan made it clear that he had no desire to be bound, and my father decided to creep upon him while he slept and leave a hatching egg on his chest. A pixie dragon egg, of all things. That dragon will grow no bigger than a mountain goat and it'll have a brain to match. In my family, binding someone to a pixie dragon is the worst sort of insult, and now Ragan's stuck with the ludicrous little beast. I don't know. Maybe it was retaliation for Iefyr bonding with the balefire, but that was just a random thing that happened because my brother was in too much shock to think clearly.”
“Wait. Ragan's dragonbound now, too?” I asked.
“Yes.” Kemi and Marita said in unison.
Kemi shivered as she stood from the chair. She picked up the potion bottle from the nightstand and swirled the contents. “Tessen, I'm sorry if I sound sharp with you right now. It's not you I'm irritated with. It's everything else, everything that happened and is still happening.”
“You don't need to apologize. I understand,” I said.
Kemi walked to the opposite side of the bed and leaned over sleeping Serida to hold the potion dropper to my mouth. “I need to send you back to sleep now. Don't fight it. This magic only works if you let it.”
∆∆∆
“Chirp?”
“Squeak!”
“Chirp?”
“Squeak!”
“Eep?”
“Quiet. All of you.” Ragan was next to me, his hand on the pillow above my head.
He wasn't looking at me as I opened my eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on something at the other end of the room.
“I'm awake,” I said. It was night again and the world beyond the window was black. “Any chance of me getting up to walk around?”
“Yeah. Not supposed to put weight on this leg, so give it a minute 'til Iefyr gets back. He can help you to the washroom. They've got pipes with running water all through this place. Cold water, hot water, take your pick.”
“Goldtree Manor has plumbing like that, too. It's nice. Think they'll let me take a bath?”
Ragan shrugged and stretched his neck to the side. “Dunno about that. Shower, maybe. You need to be careful with your back.”
I listened to the crackle of the fireplace. The searing pain in my spine wasn't as severe as earlier, but I knew moving would bring on the agony. “I can't really turn my head. Where's Serida?”
Ragan nodded toward the fire. “Pouncing at shadows with Lumin. I think they're trying to teach Auna some tricks, but Auna doesn't care. She's too busy eating a big fat spider.”
“Who's Auna?” I asked.
“Iefyr's dragon.”
“Where's yours?”
“Oh, damn it all.” Ragan winced and shook his head. His blue eyes were bloodshot and puffy. I suspected he'd been crying not long before I woke.
“Well?”
“That gods-damned cocksure elf told me I could only help him if I either fought on the front line of the infantry or bound myself to one of his battle dragons. First would have guaranteed a quick and nasty death. Would've been a total waste of my operative training. Dunno what the hell he was thinking on that second option. Didn't want any part in anything like you boys have gone through and I can fight just fine without a dragon. Went to sleep, woke up, and there was this little bitty thing squeaking on my chest. I guess I insulted him enough that he saw fit to insult me right back. At least that's what one of his kids told me. Said pixie dragons are what you bind people to when you wanna subdue their power instead of amplify it. He'll forgive my words as a factor of my grief because he's grieving too, but he's clearly trying to keep me in my place. Which isn't here. Not sure if it's anywhere.”
Ragan held his hand toward me. On his palm rested a mouse-sized white dragon with delicate, iridescent pink wings. A series of horns crowned his head and trailed down his spine.
“He's so tiny,” I said. The dragon opened one pink eye and yawned.
“Yeah. Afraid I'll either lose him or accidentally crush him. Been keeping him in my pocket. He seems to like the warmth. Probably feels safe there, too. Damn it. This is the opposite of what I wanted, but I guess I need to get used to it.”
“I know that feeling.”
“Help me figure it out, will you? We're gonna meet the Guardian soon and I don't wanna seem resentful. The Moonlight Guardian. That's who I brought you to see, but turns out she's not here anymore. Damnable elf King ran her off. Liantor's gonna take us to her once the two of us can move a little better and Iefyr's head is in order.” Ragan gently ran a fingertip along the dragon's neck and flank.
“What's his name?” I asked.
“Her. Guardian's a woman. Pay attention.”
“Not her. Your dragon.”
“Oh.” Ragan sniffed and held his hand up to bring the tiny dragon closer to his face. “Cadriel. Dunno why. I saw him and said 'Cadriel'. Cute little thing. Mom would've been amused at the absurdity of me spending the rest of my life bound to a miniature dragon. I wish she'd gotten to meet him.”
“So do I.”
Somewhere beyond my limited field of vision, a door opened and closed. Bare feet plodded on the stone floor.
“Better?” Ragan asked.
“Still dizzy,” Iefyr replied. “Vertigo is a horrid thing in this place, and so is light-induced nausea. View's spectacular, though. New moon, so all you can see are the stars above and the city below. The bridges are lit by red lamps. Fire and ice and white stone. Spectacular.”
“Bridges?” I whispered.
“Oh, no you don't,” Ragan said. He sat forward and slipped Cadriel into his sweater pocket. “Gods-dammit, Iefyr. Told you not to bring that up.”
“Sorry. I forgot.” Iefyr approached the side of the bed. An elegant, serpentine dragon hatchling sat upon his shoulder. Auna's crimson scales reflected the firelight and her swishing tail terminated in a cluster of black fern-like fronds. Her triangular head was crowned by another set of black fronds. She was similar in body shape to Serida, where Ragan's tiny dragon was stockier with a proportionally shorter neck and tail.
“Your dragon is beautiful,” I said.
Iefyr smiled and stroked Auna's chin. “She is, isn't she? Liantor told me balefires are only supposed to be bound to elves of royal blood, so his father is not happy that he passed her off to a random half-breed. The High King doesn't approve of non-elves binding with dragons at all, but not much he can do about it, especially since the Moonlight Guardian disagrees with him. I guess she has all sorts of dragonbound under her guidance. I'm eager to meet her.”
“I really need to get up now.” I raised my arms off the bed. “Not supposed to do it on my own, so help.”
Iefyr and Ragan both slid their arms under my back and eased me upright. The pain was sharp, but tolerable. This was nothing compared to the lightning strikes of separation.
“You're gonna have to take him to the lavatory yourself,” Ragan said. He nodded toward a pair of crutches propped against the wall next to the bed. “I'm useless.”
Iefyr squinted at a closed door to my right. “Are they still asleep?”
“Yeah. You're on your own.”
∆∆∆
We returned from the washroom to find Ragan glaring at the back of an elf who stood by one of the open windows. Ragan grimaced as he noticed us, then cocked his head toward the elf and curled his lip.
The fair-haired elf was tall for his race, and clad in a heavy red and silver cloak. His right hand rested on the window sill and his left was hidden in the drapes of his cloak.
He spun toward Iefyr and me at the sound of our bare feet on the stone. He was young, no older than thirty, and his piercing blue-green eyes regarded me quizzically. A draft through the window ruffled his long hair and revealed both the gold scaling that ran from his temples down his neck and the small copper dragon perched upon his left arm. He was clearly a Lightborn, but I didn't know which of Kemi's brothers he could be. She had five older brothers I hadn't met yet and I tried to recall their names. What had she told me? Twenty year old Kendrian was the youngest before the twins, so he was unlikely. Nyssandrian, Nellantor, Lyndarian, Kalantor—one of the sons of Nylian and Lyssandra stood before me, but I'd have to wait for him to introduce himself so I didn't look like an ass for asking for the name of an Anthoran prince.
“Tessen Lim,” he said, articulating my name like it was a strange flavor on his tongue. He was soft-spoken, with a slight lisp and a timbre like rustling leaves. “Are you able to walk with me? We will not go far. If you feel you cannot, I will ask your friends to leave us.”
Ragan shrugged at me. I didn't want to make him move, especially since I was already upright and not in too much pain.
“I can walk,” I replied.
The elf nodded and walked toward me. His gait was odd, as if his center of balance required him to plant more weight in his heels than what was normal. “Good. Come with me.”
Serida trotting at my side, I followed the elf out of Shan's suite. My heart caught in my throat as soon as we passed the threshold. Before me was the cavernous, conical interior of a great castle. Marble bridges crisscrossed the void, connecting each side and each level to the next. Bridges. It had to be bridges.
The elf smirked and held his hand toward the nearest bridge. “I was told you have a phobia. I will not be subjecting you to it. We are staying on this level.”
I held my hand to my mouth and tried to will calm into my racing heart. “I . . . I think this is the largest building I've e
ver seen.”
The elf's bright eyes wandered from floor to floor. We were at least eight levels above the round foyer, with another fifteen or twenty levels above. “Yes. This is only a piece of the whole. The Halls of Anthora make everything else in Bacra appear minuscule. It was carved into the prominence of a mountain, and the city sits below like veins in the vales. It is a spectacular sight outside as with within.” His eyes settled on Serida. “This solar dragon is also a spectacular sight. I had thought it unfortunate that she bonded with a human, but I have now reconsidered the matter.”
“Oh?”
The elf turned away from me and continued along the curve of the landing. I watched his feet as he walked. Red suede shoes with silver stitching. I'd seen those shoes before, though Serida's eyes. Nylian Lightborn was wearing them, but this elf was much too young to be the High King. Shan's great-grandfather was somewhere around ninety, closer to the end than the beginning of elven middle age. Perhaps he and his sons shared a cordwainer who provided them with identical shoes.
The elf kept his back to me as he opened a wooden door carved with ornate knotwork. The scents of lavender and thyme burst from within and eddied about my face. The elf held the door open and ushered me inside.
Shelves and tables filled the semi-circular room, and every surface was covered by objects, some mundane and some unidentifiable. Three fireplaces crackled between four shuttered windows. Lanterns dangled from the high ceiling, lit not by fire but by luminous blue-white stones. Dwarfstones. These were the same variety of magical gem that had lit my family's way through the underground.
“Try not to touch anything. Not everything in this room is what it appears to be,” the elf said as he closed the door. He unclasped his cloak and hung it from a leaf-shaped peg.
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