Dragon Child

Chapter 5

Thorion gleaned her intentions from her thoughts. He yawned and stretched, then padded to Keriya as she pulled on her new boots and donned an amethyst necklace, a gift from a doting noblewoman. They crept past the slumbering Roxanne, who needed rest despite her assertions that she was fine. Keriya slid open the bamboo door that led to the central hall of the infirmary and they slipped out.

They wound their way through the halls to the west wing, where long-term care patients stayed. The healers usually forbade non-family members from visits, so Keriya took a moment to compose herself and prepare her arguments for entry. When she rounded the corner, however, she was surprised to find the person she’d come to see.

“Effrax!” she exclaimed, stopping short.

Effrax, who was testing his weight on his bad leg, raised his head. “Well, if it isn’t old Dragoneyes herself. I was on my way to see you.”

Tall and broad-shouldered, Effrax had rich umber skin, a shock of spiky black hair, and a twinkle of mirth and mischief in his dark eyes. At least, he usually did. Today his face was tired and grim.

He limped forward and Keriya hurried to meet him. He’d been injured in their final fight with the shadowmen, and had taken a spear of necromagic through his right thigh—a spear that had been meant to kill Thorion.

“You’re looking well,” she said, beaming. The last time they’d seen him, he’d barely been conscious.

“I’m able to walk around all by myself,” he drawled. “I suppose that’s progress.”

“We wanted to visit you more often, but the healers—”

“None of that.” He waved aside her words. “False regret is an unbecoming garment on even the loveliest ladies.”

“It isn’t false regret,” said Thorion. “I owe you my life.”

Keriya nodded. “For that, I owe you more than I can say.” She leaned in to embrace Effrax, but something in his gaze stopped her. Instead, she held out her hand. “Thank you, Effrax Emberwill. Thank you from both of us.”

Effrax raised a brow at her unexpected gratitude. Before that moment, he and Keriya hadn’t been on the best of terms—but when she’d learned of his heroic actions during the rainforest battle, Keriya had found it easy to let go of her misgivings about the Fironian.

His surprise might also have been for her use of his self-chosen surname. Like Keriya, he’d been born a bastard, so the Allentrians referred to him as Effrax Nameless. But Keriya, who’d been called Nameless as a hurtful epithet throughout her childhood, could no longer bring herself to use the term with him.

After a brief pause, Effrax offered her a genuine smile and grasped her hand. When he noticed the ornate necklace resting in the hollow of Keriya’s throat, the smile dissolved into a scowl. “Been playing dress-up with the Galantrians, have you?” he asked, his fingers slipping away from hers.

“It was a gift,” she explained. “They’re showing their appreciation, being nice.”

“There’s no such thing as nice. Giving you pretty trinkets is a power play. They’re trying to trap you in a debt to them.”

Keriya refrained from rolling her eyes. She thought that was a reach, but she wasn’t about to argue with Effrax.

“Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” He gestured for her and Thorion to walk beside him, and the three of them headed toward the dining hall. “I heard you were planning to return to Noryk.”

“That’s right.”

“But you still have an obligation to go to the Fironem.” He caught her look of confusion and his face hardened. “Just because you killed Necrovar, that doesn’t mean my kingdom is magically going to fix itself overnight. Besides, we had a deal.”

Thorion thought to her.

“I know. I promise we’ll go soon,” she said, reassuring both of them.

“Will you?” Effrax said dubiously.

“Of course.” She was insulted to discover that Effrax held her in such low esteem. Although, considering how uncooperative she’d been while protecting Thorion, she couldn’t blame him for that. “The empress summoned me, so I have to go to Noryk first. Besides, with Necrovar gone, the Fironem’s not in any immediate trouble, right?”

“Tensions between the states have never been this high in living memory, and I’ve long outstayed my welcome here. It’s time I went home, but I am loath to do so without bringing Thorion so that I, too, might be showered with attention and praise and expensive presents.”

“We will help you,” she vowed. “But we need a little time. We just saved Allentria.”

“Yet somehow, Allentria is still preparing for war.” He shouldered past her and limped away. “Save us from that, and you can have all the time you like.”

The conversation had spoiled her appetite, but she continued to the dining hall to get Thorion some food. The hospital staff presented him with a heaping portion of meat, which he dove into happily. While he ate, she inquired after her sword.

“I’m leaving in two days. I need it.”

“You’ll also be staying in the infirmary for two days, I imagine,” the head steward said patiently. “No weapons within these walls. You’ll get it when you leave.”

After Thorion had eaten his fill, he and Keriya headed to their quarters. She walked in silence, stewing in her thoughts.

“What was Effrax talking about?” she mused. “No Necrovar, no war.”

“Necrovar made the Fironem his home ten ages ago, so the reputation of all Fironians has been compromised with his return,” said Thorion. “That leads to increased tension between the states, as Effrax said. I doubt it will escalate as far as civil war, but he has every right to worry.”

By the time they entered their room, Roxanne was awake. She lay on her cot, fiddling with a needlepoint kit Keriya had received.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked.

“I went to see Effrax.” And Keriya recounted everything he’d said.

“He’s making a big deal out of nothing,” said Roxanne. “He admitted he only wants to bring Thorion to the Fironem for fame and glory, so don’t feel bad about making him wait.”

“It wouldn’t be kind to make him wait too long,” said Thorion.

“Then don’t make him wait too long. It’s simple, but men insist on complicating everything. Speaking of men,” Roxanne added, examining her nails with an effortless grace and nonchalance that Keriya envied, “Max is stopping by later.”

“Oh?” Keriya did her best to emulate the other girl’s carefree tone. Max had been staying in Indrath Olven, the fortress where dwelt the political leaders of the city. Though his father had ordered him to return to the Erastate, Max had remained in Irongarde to deal with his own business. He was so wrapped up in whatever he was doing that he’d only been able to visit the infirmary once.

“I spoke to him yesterday while you were out,” said Roxanne, “and I told him you’d have dinner with him tonight.”

“What?” gasped Keriya. “I don’t have anything to say, or to wear, my hair’s a mess—”

“Your hair’s always a mess.”

“—and to top it off, I don’t know what to do. I haven’t had time to plan!”

“You’re no good at planning,” said Roxanne. “Just have fun. Tell him how you feel.”

“I don’t feel anything,” Keriya said mulishly.

A wicked gleam came into Roxanne’s eye. “I think you should kiss him. It’s now or never. You’re going to Noryk, he’s going to the Erastate, you won’t see him for Shivnath-knows-how-long . . . you might do more than kiss. I’d be happy to let you two have the ward for the evening.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down, clearly enjoying herself.

Keriya felt her cheeks reddening. “Not likely.”

Roxanne shrugged. “Your loss.”

Keriya spent the rest of the day trying not to fret about her meeting with Max. When the sun sank behind the far-off jungle peaks, there came a knock on the bamboo door.

“Come in,” Roxanne sang. The door slid open and Max’s lean, handsome face appeared. Keriya’s stomach swooped and her heart leapt, as they always did when she saw him.

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing for her to join him.

“Um . . . sure.”

“You’ll thank me,” Roxanne said in a carrying whisper as Keriya left the room.

“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” Max explained as they walked down the hall. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I had to take care of a few things.” His sky-blue eyes grew distant.

“You okay?” she asked. He cleared his throat and nodded, flashing a winsome smile.

They exited the hospital, passing the guards on watch at its doors. Keriya recognized Inido Rainsword, the captain of King Wavewalker’s palace soldiers.

Rainsword had come to collect Sebaris. The king had wanted his daughter brought home, but the healers had f*******n it, given her fragile condition. The captain and his men had been stationed in the inner city garrison for the past month, waiting for the princess to awaken. Rainsword cast Keriya a baleful glare as she passed, but he didn’t dare send any of his men to tail her with Max at her side.

Keriya and Max walked toward the center of town, finding their way by the light of the red lanterns that lined the sinuous paths. Fluffy flakes of snow began to fall, and they pulled up the hoods of their cloaks. She noted Max had taken pains to look nice this evening—though for him, that wasn’t hard. His golden hair was casually swept back and his clothes were neat and pressed. His signature diamond amulet glinted in the lantern light. It made her wish she’d kept some of the finer clothes she’d been gifted. Why bother hanging onto her brown frock? It wasn’t like it was the height of Allentrian fashion.

They ended up at a nearby inn, which was packed with celebrating locals. Keriya was hailed with a drunken cheer when she entered. The innkeeper greeted them, providing them with a choice table in a private area.

She and Max removed their snow-dusted cloaks. They sat in easy silence for a few moments, listening to a minstrel performing at the other end of the room. He was singing about the Great War, when the Allentrians had first fought Necrovar:

“I’ll sing a tale of Ages past,

When land and sky were young.

I’ll sing a tale of frontiers vast,

Of heroes brave and unsurpassed;

I’ll sing a tale, or spin it fast,

For many an age to be sung.

I’ll sing a tale of armies great,

Who fought the Shadow’s hand.

I’ll sing a tale of war and hate,

Of hellish ends the damnéd faced.

Men fought and died, as was their fate,

And their lifeblood watered the land.”

“This is an interesting song,” said Keriya, frowning at the lyrics.

“In times of war, people like to hear about past triumphs,” said Max.

“Those hardly sound like triumphs,” she muttered as the minstrel moved on to a verse about g******e. “Why does everyone keep talking about war? Necrovar is dead.”

“The Shadow Lord isn’t the only one capable of starting a war,” said Max, lowering his voice and leaning closer to her. Keriya was sure no one would hear them over the din of the tavern, but she also leaned toward Max. For a fleeting instant she wished her hair were neater, prettier, more like Roxanne’s. “King Wavewalker is now training his soldiers to do battle specifically with air wielders.”

“Why?”

“At the last meeting of the Council of Nine, he and my father, King Windscoure, argued over Thorion. My father wanted you to come to the Erastate, and Wavewalker refused point-blank to let you leave.”

“Oh,” said Keriya.

“Since you’ve stayed in Irongarde so long, my father believes you’re supporting the Galantasa.”

“Why should that matter?” she asked. “Aren’t they part of the same empire?”