Dragon Empress

Chapter 9

“Behold,” said Khyvette, spreading her wings.

Viran took one more step, and the boulder vanished. It was no more than a lightmagic illusion. In its place stood a smaller stone pedestal, and on that pedestal . . .

“Ra’s teeth,” Viran breathed. “Are those—?”

“Eggs,” Khyvette said proudly. “Our first since returning to Selaras.”

He tore his eyes from the two eggs and looked at her. “Are they yours?”

The green boomed a hearty laugh. “Goodness, no. Dragons select only the finest mates to perpetuate the strongest bloodlines, and I have emotions. To hatch a drackling would be to risk passing those emotions along to my offspring. No one wants that.”

“Aren’t they beautiful?” said Keriya, tugging Viran forward.

The eggs were the size of his torso, resting in a small depression on the stone pedestal. Faint veins of iridescent purple sparkled on their pearlescent shells. This close, he sensed heat emanating from the base, keeping the embryos warm.

“Told you you’d love the surprise,” Keriya whispered. He became aware that his mouth was hanging open and pulled it shut, clearing his throat.

“You were right.”

She put a hand to her ear. “Say that again?”

His lips twitched. “This is a miracle, Keriya. Truly.”

To think he’d lived to see a world with dragons. To think he might live to see the world repopulated with these legendary creatures. The prospect was dizzying.

“We’re keeping this quiet, for obvious reasons,” said Khyvette. “The eggs are vulnerable, though we have woven the finest protective enchantments. A layer of defense gauges the intent of approaching creatures, preventing enemies from drawing near, and another layer negates the use of all outside magic.”

Viran nodded. He’d expect nothing less from the finest wielders in the world.

“Makes you think, doesn’t it?” said Fletcher, staring over the rims of his glasses. “Makes you believe there’s a happy ending somewhere in the future, not too far away.”

A vision of that future unfolded in Viran’s mind: Selaras was peaceful. Necrovar was dead. The dragons were free, and these dragon-children were able to soar through the skies without fear.

Keriya laid her hand on one of the eggs. Her eyes shone in the reflected light of its shell.

“I’ll protect you,” she breathed, her voice soft yet resonant with power.

With her vow, Viran broke his own. How could he fight to keep her by his side when she was called elsewhere? How could he stand in the way of new alliances when Allentria so desperately needed them?

Keriya’s path led to glory and greatness.

But Viran, it seemed, had finally run out of road.

CHAPTER FIVE“An intrinsic part of duty is sacrifice.”

~ Erande Chardreilas, Sixth Age

It was New Year’s Eve, the last day of autumn. Tomorrow, Keriya would turn nineteen.

First, she had to survive the gala.

She stood in a side chamber off the hall where guests paraded past, fighting to quell her anxiety. Historically, she hadn’t had good luck with birthdays or parties. Her fingers twitched, longing to fiddle with something—but her silk dress was smooth and clingy, and she had no sleeves to speak of.

“Relax,” Roxanne muttered. “Or Belbreeze will have both our heads on a platter.”

Keriya wiped clammy palms against her pristine gown. Roxanne had helped her prepare for the party, styling her hair in curls and applying cosmetic paint to her face. It reminded her of their first party in the Galantrian Palace four years ago.

The clunk of Effrax’s prosthetic leg announced his arrival. He slipped past gauzy gold curtains into the alcove, looking dashing in an Imperial white uniform.

“Aren’t you lovely ladies a vision,” he said, sweeping back his dark red cape to offer a courtly bow. He glanced at Roxanne. “And look at us in matching colors.”

Roxanne, in a form-fitting gown of ruby satin, raised a brow at him. “Great minds think alike. Although my outfit’s better.”

Effrax cracked a lopsided grin. “Won’t argue with you there, Tigress.”

Keriya hid a small smile of her own. The two of them had a rocky past, but after Effrax had saved Roxanne’s life in one of last year’s battles, they’d warmed up to each other again. She was happy to see them getting along.

She settled into a state of semi-calm between her friends, drawing comfort from their presences. Together, they watched the procession of Allentrian nobles and foreign emissaries. On the colonnaded steps of the palace’s back gallery, a herald announced each attendee.

“How long do I have to wait?” Keriya’s feet, stuffed into fancy heels, already ached. Goosebumps rose on her bare arms. However nerve-wracking the party would be, this interminable lead-up was surely worse. The calm before the storm always was.

“You’re the star, Dragoneyes,” said Effrax. “They’ll announce you last. Belbreeze wants you to make an entrance, I’m sure.”

“Quite right,” said Alisa Belbreeze as she bustled into the alcove. “And that time is fast approaching.”

She produced a clipboard that held several pages’ worth of checklists and began rattling off rules to Keriya: “Back straight, chin high. You are to look people in the eye when they address you. You will be asked questions, but you are not to make any commitments on behalf of the Empire of Allentria.”

The woman droned on, but Keriya tuned her out. A tall figure had just slipped through the curtains.

Amazing how Viran could still spark lightning in her heart, send butterflies dancing in her stomach. He wore Jidaelni garb, a ceremonial Xamarai outfit that accented his warrior’s physique. The way his eyes glittered when they landed on hers made heat rise in her cheeks.

“Ambassador Kvlaudium, you were told to wait across the hall.” Belbreeze’s brittle voice snapped Keriya out of her reverie.

“Of course, Representative Belbreeze. I just came to wish Keriya luck,” Viran replied in a voice twice as cold.

“Thank you for your concern. Now return to your assigned waiting area, if you please.”

“Can’t he wait with us?” Keriya asked. “He could escort me—”

“No,” Belbreeze said with iron finality.

“Everyone else has an escort,” Keriya complained. No dignitary swept down the carpeted corridor alone—they had partners, guards, or pompous-looking heralds accompanying them.

“You are not everyone.” Belbreeze rounded on Viran, coiffed curls swaying. “On your way, Ambassador, before you miss your cue.”

A muscle flickered in Viran’s jaw. He ducked into the hall without another word, joining the thinning crowd of attendees who had yet to be announced.

Effrax let out a low whistle, and Belbreeze shot him a steely look. “I notice you are not in your assigned waiting spot either, King Emberwill.”

He flinched—at the title or at her tone, Keriya couldn’t tell.

“Begging your pardon, milady. I was merely hoping the lovely Ambassador Fleuridae would allow me to escort her when we’re announced.”

Keriya’s eyes darted back and forth between her friends. Roxanne’s expression was unreadable, but after a charged silence, she said in an even tone, “It would be my pleasure.”

Surprisingly, Belbreeze didn’t object to this pairing. She returned to perusing her notes. Keriya scowled. Why had the woman made such a fuss over Viran leaving, then?

“No scowling,” Belbreeze said without looking up from her clipboard.

Keriya began to itch with nerves and frustration. Every announced name compounded her clawing anxiety. Helkryvt’s blood, this is almost worse than being at war.

“King Emberwill, you next,” Belbreeze said at last. Effrax offered his elbow to Roxanne, who snaked her arm through his.

“You’ll be alright,” she whispered to Keriya before they left. “Just remember to move your feet this time when they call your name.”

Keriya laughed—half nervous, half genuine—as she remembered how Roxanne had once given her an encouraging push into the spotlight at the Galantrian Ball. She chewed her lip, watching her friends disappear down the corridor.

“Stop that,” said Belbreeze. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”

Far away, Keriya heard Effrax and Roxanne’s names announced. Belbreeze nodded to her, and Keriya nodded back.

Showtime.

The small woman led Keriya into the main hall. The lights seemed overly bright as they marched through the gallery toward the back steps. Keriya couldn’t see past the facade of translucent curtains into the winter night beyond.

“Chin up,” Belbreeze chided, wielding a current of airmagic to part the gauzy hangings. “And smile.”

She pushed Keriya out as the herald cried, “Lady Keriya Soulstar, the Dragon Speaker!”

Roaring applause crashed against her. She hitched on a smile to hide her unease. The grand flagstone steps opened onto a manicured lawn where hundreds of guests cheered.

“Wave,” Belbreeze hissed behind the curtain. Keriya obeyed, her mouth dry as she beamed at the diverse array of mortals. The ghostly touch of unfamiliar eyes burned her exposed skin. Gazes raked her, taking in her too-tight dress and dark scars.

“Wield!” several voices called from the throng. “Wield for us!”

“Do as they ask,” Belbreeze instructed.

Keriya tensed, her smile frozen in place. Tiny hairs rose on the back of her neck. If she were a dragon, her scales would be bristling.

Fine. If they wanted a show, they’d get a show.

She embraced her source. In her mind’s eye, she saw her soul: the glowing, incorporeal center of her being. The act of sinking into her power soothed her, and she peeled back layers of threads until she found what she wanted. She wielded changemagic, and, for theatrical effect, splashed some lightmagic into the display.

Fabric rippled across Keriya’s flesh. She’d changed her uncomfortable dress and heels into her tailored uniform and boots, making them shine with magic.

The crowd went wild.

She didn’t have the nerve to face Belbreeze after that, and scanned the throng for an easy escape route. Khyvette’s gleaming figure drew her eye. The dragon loomed to the left at the base of the steps, marking a place of refuge amongst her friends. Keeping her back straight and her chin up, Keriya descended into the fray.

Roxanne cackled, clapping Keriya on the shoulder when she arrived beside the dragon. “Well done! You should’ve seen Belbreeze’s face.”

Keriya’s false smile became a genuine grin. Fletcher and Effrax looked amused, but when she caught Viran’s eye, her heart sank. No hint of mirth shone on his face. His eyes, usually full of hidden light, were shadowed.

“Uh oh,” muttered Effrax. “Trouble incoming.”

“Dragon Speaker.” Belbreeze’s voice froze Keriya’s innards. A firm hand clamped around her elbow, pulling with disproportionate strength. “You are not here to converse with people you already know.”

The crowd surged around Keriya as she was dragged away, cutting her off from her friends. Only Khyvette remained visible, the priceless jade centerpiece of the gala’s decorations.

“Keriya, meet Ohef Zor-Harsus of Rhunthar,” said Belbreeze, planting Keriya in front of a massive, beefy mortal with leathery gray skin. He wore a sleeveless jerkin, revealing muscled arms so long that his knuckles strafed the grass. He seemed to have no neck, his sloping shoulders connecting directly to his bald, squarish skull.

“Nice to meet you,” Keriya managed. This was a troll. It had to be a troll. She’d read about trolls, and this was exactly how she’d imagined them. They’d died out in Allentria during the Seventh Age, but here one was, in the flesh.

Ohef Zor-Harsus took her hand between his thumb and forefinger. “My people heard the rumors of your power and beauty,” he said in a guttural voice, revealing large fangs. “Yet you are beyond anything we could have imagined, Lady Soulstar.”

Keriya hoped her blush wouldn’t be noticeable in the soft light. Paper lanterns hung on garlands, crisscrossing overhead, providing a diffused ambiance to the garden. “Oh. Thank you very much, Master Zor-Harsus—”

“Please, call me Ohef. We are all friends here, are we not?”

“Of course,” said Belbreeze. “And we in Allentria have heard of your country’s mighty military. You’ve used earthmagic to engineer rolling tanks that can traverse any terrain.”

Ohef’s beady green eyes disappeared in folds of skin as he laughed. “Ah! You have been talking to my admiral and generals, I take it?”