Dragon Empress

Chapter 3

She queued at one of the buffet tables, accepting heaping portions of everything that caught her eye. Candied Smarlindian yams, Erastatian honeywheat rolls, and a spiced mango salad—a Ghoren Islands recipe adopted by the Imperial chefs.

“Dragon Speaker.” A familiar voice hailed her as she headed toward an empty table in the window alcoves. She glanced over her shoulder to find Zarius Caelburn, highest officer of the Imperial Guard and military leader of the World Alliance.

“Commander-General,” Keriya greeted him as she slid into a seat. “You’re looking well.”

“As are you,” Caelburn replied in a coldly polite tone. They danced on eggshells around each other, Keriya and Caelburn. He held a lot of political clout, so she had to ‘play nice,’ as Belbreeze put it. He wasn’t her biggest fan, but she had saved Allentria.

She shivered, though her uniform contained an enchantment that kept her at an ideal temperature. If Caelburn discovered how close she’d come to destroying the world during that final battle . . .

“Do you have news from the coast?” Caelburn asked.

“Not thince yetherday,” Keriya replied through a mouthful of pastry. “I’m heading out again soon. I’ll report anything unusual.”

“See that you do.”

Caelburn left her to eat her breakfast in peace. Relative peace. She couldn’t go ten seconds without some foreign dignitary wishing her well. She stumbled through half-memorized customs of high society, hoping she didn’t accidentally insult anyone or ‘speak like a peasant’—an egregious crime, according to Belbreeze.

Keriya bussed her tray, ducked out of the hall, and slipped into an alcove before anyone could stop her. She fished out her To Do list so she could mentally check off one more item:

4. Scout borders

She left the palace in a dazzling flash, teleporting to the Fironian coast. She arrived on a sandstone cliff west of a bustling port city. A briny sea breeze gusted up from the whitecaps, flecking her cheeks with sand and salt, tossing her sleek hair asunder.

Though the seasons had stabilized in Necrovar’s absence, the weather was mild this far south. She tilted her face skyward, drawing ocean air deep into her lungs, letting the elements revitalize her.

“Keriya!”

She looked to the sea, grinning. A dragon glided across the narrow strait between Cinder Isle and the mainland, sunlight winking on her jade scales.

Keriya stepped back, giving the dragon space to land. She hooked pearly talons into craggy crevices and folded her leathery wings with effortless grace. As she crouched, a human leapt from her shoulder. Keriya barely had time to register the flash of purple eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses before he strode forward and caught her in a hug.

“Easy,” she laughed, returning the embrace. “You’ll mess up my hair.”

“I think that ship has sailed,” said Fletcher, releasing her. The wind had chapped his sun-darkened face, but an exuberant flush made his tan cheeks glow with life.

Keriya’s grin widened. Just to spite Belbreeze, she raked her fingers through her hair, letting the wind catch the long strands and whip them behind her.

“Drachrheenar,” the dragon rumbled in greeting.

“Morning, Khyvette. You’re looking good!”

“This is not an ideal time of year for shedding,” said Khyvette, picking at a scabby patch on her foreleg. Though most of the dragon’s hide was new and glossy, several flaky areas remained. “We’ve been too busy to travel to more humid climes to speed the process.”

“We’re expecting another ship tomorrow,” Fletcher added. “Danisan claims it’s from Syrion.”

“Good,” said Keriya. “I look forward to meeting the Syrionese.”

Fletcher shot her a skeptical look over his glasses.

“What? I mean it! Tomorrow won’t work with my schedule, but I’ll meet them at the gala. Assuming they have time to talk to me.”

He folded his arms. “I don’t think you understand. They’re all coming to talk to you.”

“Not just me. You and Khyvette—”

“Impressive though we are,” said Khyvette, “you are the main attraction. The legend of your victory against Necrovar has spread to the far corners of the globe.”

Keriya bit back the response that sprang to her lips whenever someone mentioned her victory. It hadn’t been a true victory—but Belbreeze had made it plain that she was never, ever to admit that in front of foreign guests.

“Where are they getting their information?” Keriya asked for the millionth time, gazing across the sparkling sea. Beyond the lush hills and gleaming ports of Cinder Isle, where inbound ships were rerouted for docking, the Waters of Chardon stretched endlessly.

Fletcher shrugged. “No idea, but I’m not complaining. Allies are showing up on our doorstep for the next wave of the war.”

Those words doused Keriya’s good humor. Noticing her shift in mood, his face fell. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry.” She’d been practicing smiles at Belbreeze’s behest, and now she could fake one so well that not even her best friend of fifteen years could tell the difference. “It’s all good.”

“Really? Have you had a breakthrough with research?”

“Um . . . yeah, I’m getting close. I have a great new plan in the works.”

Fletcher didn’t look convinced, and neither did Khyvette. To stave off further questions, Keriya changed the topic. “I don’t have anywhere to be until eleven-thirty. You have room for one more while you scout?”

She spent an enjoyable few hours flying with Fletcher and Khyvette. Though their patrols had once served to oust the Moorfainians and cull stray shadowtroops, now Fletcher’s missions primarily functioned to spot approaching ships.

Today’s flight didn’t turn up anything unusual—good thing, too, or Keriya would have to report to Caelburn—and when Fletcher’s dwarf-made wristwatch chimed eleven, she prepared to depart.

Khyvette landed on a sandy beach, settling Keriya beside a copse of palm trees.

“Do you have time to stop by tomorrow morning, at least?” Fletcher asked her. “You can pitch us your new plan.”

“Oh. My plan.”

Now I actually have to come up with something.

Khyvette’s eyes narrowed shrewdly, and Keriya hitched a wide smile in place. “I’ll see you at the usual time!”

She wasn’t sure she’d fooled the dragon, but Fletcher seemed placated. Keriya waved farewell to the bondmates as they launched into the azure sky, and fished out her To Do list.

5. Check-in with G’shídrian

Keriya had indebted herself to Lord G’shídrian in exchange for the phoenixes’ help in the Shadow War. In the year since the phoenix lord had called in his favor, she’d made little headway on her assigned mission.

She teleported to the Fironian capital, arriving on the city’s high point outside the palace gates. The guards bowed and stood aside to admit her, though she paused before the elaborate sandstone archway, surveying the metropolis.

Fyrxav had suffered greatly when Necrovar’s demonic followers had occupied it. With the necrocrelai gone—having fled the continent—the Fironians had reclaimed and rebuilt their land. Now the streets were lively. Open-air markets thrived in cobbled squares, music could be heard on every corner, and the spicy scent of street food wafted up to her through the forest of beige towers.

Keriya turned her back on the sparkling city. Beautiful though it was, she couldn’t shake the creeping sense of unease that clung to her whenever she visited Fyrxav.

Too many traumatic memories surrounded this place.

She shoved those memories aside, throwing back her shoulders and striding through the entry foyer. She was Keriya Soulstar, legendary hero of the Twelfth Age, and according to Belbreeze, she had a reputation of confidence and valor to uphold.

Veering left, she passed a colonnaded gallery and entered the west garden courtyard. There she found G’shídrian perched in his favorite acacia tree, preening his red-and-gold plumage. Reclining on a bench beneath the branches, a blanket draped around her shoulders to fend off the late autumn chill, was Roxanne Fleuridae.

Roxanne’s honey-hazel eyes flashed gold in the midday light as she looked up from her work. She dumped her pile of papers on the bench and let the blanket slide from her slim, muscled shoulders as she rose. “You’re late.”

Keriya huffed a sigh and embraced the taller woman. Roxanne’s cropped hair, which curled in dark, silky wisps, tickled her nose. “It’s eleven-thirty on the dot.”

“On time is late in this modern age.”

“You sound like Belbreeze,” Keriya muttered.

“Can’t say I’m fond of her, but she has a point.” Roxanne drew away and scooped up her pile of papers. “Take a look at this.”

She clutched a map of the Fironem, marked with intersecting lines of magical topography. For months, she’d been researching ways to complete the seventh item on Keriya’s list, the favor G’shídrian had asked of her:

7. Rescue Valaan from the Etherworld

No big deal. Just free the Allentrian guardian of firemagic from the parallel universe where Necrovar had imprisoned him. All Keriya had to do was find a way to safely enter the Etherworld—that task was item #6 on her list.

“See that, near the Chasm?” Roxanne pointed to a lattice of lines near the canyon. “The Rift is wide there, and the Flame’shikrim sense Valaan’s presence when they draw near. This could be the winning spot!”

“Great.” Keriya tried to sound excited, but her stomach sank at the thought of the task ahead. “I’ll scout it tomorrow.”

Roxanne’s full lips curled in a smirk. “Yeah? You aren’t busy getting ready for the gala, the most important night of our lives?”

Keriya chuckled. “I’d rather enter the Etherworld. If I get stuck there, I won’t have to attend.”

That was the roadblock. One of them, at any rate. Keriya couldn’t enter the Etherworld. Thanks to the magic in her soul, she’d become a prisoner as soon as she crossed the threshold of that hostile universe.

“You never know, it might be fun,” said Roxanne. “Besides, it’s your birthday. It’s like the whole world came to celebrate with you.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t make it better,” Keriya said wryly.

They made plans to explore G’shídrian’s new location together before Keriya departed. She bowed to the phoenix lord and embraced Roxanne once more, then teleported to the Imperial Palace. After a hearty lunch, she slipped off to work on her afternoon task:

8. Do research

The Imperial Library, located in the west wing with vaulted ceilings and magnificent bay windows to mirror the banquet hall, would have been an enjoyable place to pore over aged tomes. Keriya had spent her early days of research there, lounging in comfy armchairs. The dark nature of her studies had led her away from the library to the Antiquity Stacks.

She strode through marble halls until she came to an antechamber hewn from natural stone. A single wooden door stood in the center of the far wall. She turned the tarnished brass handle and the door swung inward. It had been enchanted to open at her touch.

The Antiquity Stacks housed tomes too ancient—or dangerous—to be displayed in the public library. This room had no windows. It was three stories tall, lit by floating orbs that emitted a steady, purplish-blue light. The stacks, crammed with books, stretched endlessly into the shadows.

“What’s that? Who’s—oh. It’s you.” Master Rikoru, ward of the Imperial Library, shuffled out from between stone shelves. His silver hair glinted in the fey light. His face was wrinkled with age, but his narrow blue eyes were bright and piercing.

“Nice to see you too, Master Rikoru. Any luck on your end?”

“A few things,” he said gruffly, waving a gnarled hand. “I left them on the third table down.”

“Thanks.”

“This research won’t lead anywhere,” he told her. “It’s all fairy tales from ages past.”

“The dragons say otherwise.”

“Hmph.” Rikoru’s mouth twisted, but not even he could argue with that. “I still say you’d do better just to practice your wielding, like a normal person.”

“I’m not a normal person,” Keriya murmured, drifting past him into the shadows.