Dragon Empress

Chapter 8

The sun crested the Norythian Mountains as they ate, making the crystal-cut ridges on the bay windows glow with rosy fire. Moments like these had grown rare over the last several months, as everyone was pulled in different directions with new responsibilities. Viran soon lost himself in easy merriment, laughing along with Effrax, catching up with Fletcher and Roxanne.

At seven o’clock sharp, Alisa Belbreeze arrived to destroy his contentment. The tiny Erastatian clapped her hands, bringing Keriya to attention. “You’re going to be late.”

“We have half an hour,” muttered Keriya.

“During which time we will walk to the western ramparts and prepare to welcome our guests.” Belbreeze’s eyes flickered to Viran. “Ambassador Kvlaudium, I was not aware you were attending today’s demonstration. We had planned to keep our gathering small and intimate.”

Angry heat licked Viran’s heart, even as he went cold at her choice of words. “I’m here by invitation, Representative Belbreeze.”

“Don’t worry about numbers,” Fletcher said guilelessly. “Viran’s always welcome to ride with Khyvette.”

Stymied but not defeated, Belbreeze offered Viran her brightest and most cutting smile. “Very well. I’m sure we’ll find room for you at the back of the audience.”

She stepped between him and Keriya, positioning herself as a barrier while they walked to the designated meeting point.

Once they emerged onto the wide marble ramparts, dignitaries began arriving in drips and dribbles. Two humans from Calza came first; then a wereserpent from Tortava; three princes from three different territories in Pax-Abria; a wealthy heiress from the Ustrelan Isles; the enigmatic Syrionese shapeshifter, who’d taken human form today; and last—Viran’s gut tightened—Sorin Kvlaudium, his cousin.

Even from six-thousand miles away, the dynast was still ruining Viran’s life.

Belbreeze greeted the dignitaries, her eyes flicking toward Viran with each introduction. For all that she looked like a fragile little flower, he recognized the gaze of a predator. He understood the warning and kept his distance, allowing Keriya to liaise with the guests. They hadn’t been randomly selected from the pool of visitors. It was no coincidence that these creatures hailed from some of the most powerful countries in the world.

There is no such thing as coincidence, Viran thought as the final guest arrived. Enwha alighted on the ramparts astride her skimmer. A cluster of well-trained odhonata buzzed in her wake.

“Magnificent,” said Sorin, admiring the gargantuan yet graceful insects. He caught Keriya’s hand and brought it to his lips. “But not half as magnificent as you, Andysse Kayah. You have blossomed since last we met.”

Keriya laughed awkwardly and tugged herself free of his grasp. Viran thought the tendons in his arm would pop, so hard was he clenching his fist. He fought to keep his mask in place, to control any hint of emotion. Perhaps he hadn’t done as good as job as he’d thought, because Sorin flashed him a nasty grin.

“All’s fair in love and war, cousin,” he whispered as Belbreeze lectured the guests on skimmer safety protocol. “You’ve had your turn with her, now it’s mine.”

Pressurized rage roared in Viran’s chest. He imagined a perfect world where he could unleash that anger on Sorin—fry him with voltmagic, punch him in the mouth, rip Keriya away from these scavengers and keep her safe forever . . .

But that was a fool’s hope. There was no safety for Keriya.

No, not even once Necrovar was dead. Because when she succeeded in her impossible tasks—and Viran had no doubt that she would—she’d emerge from the Shadow War to fight different battles on vastly different fields. The geopolitical climate had shifted with Allentria’s reopening, and storms were brewing.

Khyvette arrived, landing on the ramparts to thunderous applause. Viran accepted a ride, clambering onto her back with his friends while the diplomats mounted skimmers. The jade dragon lifted off, beating her leathery wings and angling north.

She led the odhonata, who angled behind her in a V-formation. Though their height provided breathtaking views, Viran couldn’t enjoy the scenery. The ice-crusted river, Noryk’s limestone cliffs, the sprawling mountains—it was all lost on him.

The group landed on a familiar tableland: the Eminarchs’ enclave, where the dragon elders held court. A dozen glittering behemoths perched on rocky ledges in a semicircle, surrounding the mortals.

Viran forgot to be broody as he slid to the ground. It was impossible to be unhappy in the presence of such magnificent creatures. Here was a miracle that, in his youth, he would have never thought possible.

“Honored guests,” said Keriya, her voice echoing in the enclave as she dismounted her skimmer and spread her arms, “meet my family.”

A pang shot through Viran’s heart. It was a beautiful, powerful statement—and he was sure Belbreeze had planted it within Keriya, urging her to say it for her audience.

“Though bound by ancient edicts and arcane magics,” Keriya continued, approaching the dragons, “they played an instrumental part in my victory over Necrovar last year.”

She stopped in front of a twilight-scaled beast. This was Nordrion, the Foremost Eminarch: largest, wisest, and most powerful of his kin. He was a mountain of muscle and scale—as emotionless as a mountain, too.

“I owe them my life for that day.” Keriya’s voice was no more than a whisper, but it reached Viran at the back of the group, thanks to the amphitheater shape of the enclave. “Teos gratey, Eminarcai. Ohrey trouvra recoros e’es casite, drira thryros.”

“Clairaté, Drachrheenar. Eras sertrat kiv Selarus. Endral rynralin exite temporos.”

Nordrion’s stentorian reply filled the enclave with the rumble of thunder and the energy of lightning. It resonated in the marrow of Viran’s bones. Dragons had that effect—being around their power made one feel powerful in turn.

The Ustrelan heiress began to weep. The wereserpent bowed to Nordrion’s might. Even Sorin, pedestrian fool that he was, looked misty-eyed.

Viran was sure he was the only one who noticed Keriya’s shoulders tense.

Leaning toward Khyvette, he asked, “What did Nordrion say in return?”

“My kin sense an increase in entropy,” she whispered, her brow ridges drawing together. “They say the Dragon Speaker is running out of time.”

Chills trickled down Viran’s spine. A small amount of entropy was to be expected in any isolated system. A large amount of entropy . . . that could be catastrophic.

Belbreeze took command of the meeting. She strolled across the enclave, introducing the Eminarchs to her guests on a first-name basis. It was a clever ploy, Viran had to admit. To the visiting nations, it must seem like Allentria and the dragons were a united front.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Would the dragons be willing to fly to Calza?” asked one representative, who—according to Belbreeze’s introductions—was a favored niece of the sultana. “When the Moorfainians fled Allentria, they came to our shores. We repelled them, but we know they’re lurking in the north.”

“The dragons should not be bothered with minor threats,” said the heiress. “The Ustrelan Isles require immediate assistance. The Rift has widened over our nation. Our skies are black with fractures. That should be addressed first.”

“Moorfain is no minor threat,” the Calzani retorted.

“It is when compared to Tortava’s plight,” said the wereserpent. He had a mostly human appearance since the Oldmoon was waning, but his skin remained scaly and snakelike. “Necrocrelai have nested in the karsts south of our country. We’ve identified two of the Severed Six leading them. Our need for the dragons is greater.”

From across the enclave, Viran saw a flicker of comprehension on Keriya’s face. She might not be familiar with all the notes in this political opera, but here was a chorus she knew by heart.

“Hold on,” she began.

“Though Allentria has made great strides against the darkness that plagues Selaras,” said Belbreeze, drowning out Keriya’s words, “the Shadow War is not over. This is why an emphasis on global defense will be key in our negotiations going forward.”

Keriya scowled. “But the dragons—”

“Are working to regain their strength after ages years of t*****e in the Etherworld,” Belbreeze interrupted. “As such, it is imperative that Allentria and the dragons prioritize our allies.”

Viran was grudgingly impressed. Belbreeze had set an auction, and the ambassadors were eager to throw their gold at her. Or their military. Or their technology. Whatever was deemed most useful for the Shadow War would be the winning ticket.

Everyone started talking again, squabbling for attention. These poor, doomed fools had no idea they were staking their hopes on creatures who were being controlled.

Last year, Keriya had confirmed the existence of a Spider who was influencing the dragons’ actions. Their paws were tied, their souls bound by an otherworldly force that prevented them from fighting Necrovar.

“Ten ages later, and still the mortals view us as weapons and tools,” Khyvette growled under her breath.

“Such is the price of power,” murmured Viran.

“Representative Belbreeze is mistaken.” Keriya’s voice rose above all others, and the enclave fell silent. Everyone turned to stare at her as she continued: “The dragons will not be forced into battle. Any fighting that must be done, any alliance that must be made, will be my responsibility.”

“That’s our girl,” Effrax said as a second round of chatter burst from the diplomats.

Roxanne snorted. “Bet Belbreeze didn’t see that one coming.”

Viran glanced at Belbreeze. The petite blonde looked like a cat who’d cornered a mouse.

This was her play all along, he realized. She wanted to corner Keriya into committing herself to an alliance.

The rest of the trip passed in a daze. Viran barely registered when Keriya demonstrated her lightmagic abilities. He retreated into his thoughts, vowing to do whatever it took to keep her safe with him. He didn’t even move when the guests lined up to return to the Imperial Palace. Neither did Keriya.

“I’m staying for now,” she told Belbreeze. “So are my friends.”

“As you wish,” Belbreeze said sweetly, and she departed on a skimmer without fuss.

Keriya blinked in surprise, yet she shook it off quickly. Now that only their core group remained in the enclave, a sparkle came into her eyes.

“Tremos sel presorey pyr?” She looked at Nordrion and asked a question—that much was evident from her rising inflection.

“Let them see it, you toad-wart,” Khyvette added when the massive Eminarch didn’t reply. “If you’re emotionless, why are you acting so paranoid?”

“Wisdom dictates that we take every precaution,” Nordrion replied in accented Allentrian. He must have learned the language over the past year. “It is unwise to deal with humans.”

“Most of us aren’t human,” Keriya pointed out blithely.

“Semantics,” said Nordrion. “I expect none of you will act in an untoward manner, given that the dragons will destroy you if you do.”

“This way,” said Khyvette, snaking her lithe body around and trotting down the mountain path. Her cheery tone was a stark contrast to Nordrion’s emotionless, chilling threat.

“Is this the surprise you mentioned?” Viran asked, drawing close to Keriya and lacing his fingers with hers.

“Yes! I know you don’t like surprises, but this is a good one.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I bet you a million derlei you’ll love it.”

“You don’t have a million derlei.” He leaned down and murmured in her ear, “But I can think of a few other things I want from you.”

“Save it for your room, lovebirds,” Roxanne said behind them.

Keriya flushed, grinning. Her carefree expression reassured Viran. The two of them would survive Belbreeze’s political machinations. After all, they’d survived far worse things.

Their motley procession traipsed single-file across a narrow ridge with sheer cliffs, following Khyvette. The wintry world unfolded through the mists as they walked. Noryk glittered to the south, and the pristine, snowy fenlands of the Galantasa sprawled in the north.

Finally, they arrived at a plateau with a craggy boulder at its center. It didn’t look like anything special, but a tingle of warmth deep in Viran’s chest told him some manner of powerful magic was afoot.