“Not desperate enough,” said a second. “I can’t believe we have to babysit instead of being in Beacon.”
“Well, if you hadn’t—”
Elara dropped back to her own senses, anxiety pulsing across her skin all over again. Aveline was on her way here because of her. Aveline had no idea what the commander had done, what Elara knew, and this couldn’t be good. If anything happened to their queen, it would be her fault. It would be all her fault.
Signey’s hand covered hers in the grass. Her lips were still moving, but her gaze was steady as she sent across the bond, “We need to get you home. Maybe the peace talks will go well, but in case they don’t, you can’t be here. You could be used as a hostage or—or worse.”
I’m already a hostage, Elara almost said, but that was hardly a productive thought. Signey had risked her education, her family, and now her own life to do the right thing every day since Elara had caught her in Luxton’s office. It had seemed as if they had time, to wait and to scheme, but that time was rapidly running out. When the queen arrived, it might be too late.
“Okay.”Elara forced herself to breathe, a slow in and out, before she met Signey’s determined brown eyes.“What’s the plan?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
FARON
AVELINE’S FACE WAS AN ALARMING SHADE OF RED WHENFARONand Reeve entered the audience chamber.
Nobility had flown them to Pearl Bay Palace after the dragon had retreated and Gael had disappeared. Afterward, they were rushed through the hallways to meet the queen like handbags being passed off from owner to owner. Faron would have found it hilarious if she hadn’t been so drained from summoning the dragon’s soul. She leaned against Reeve, watching Aveline through half-lidded eyes. Reeve’s arm was locked around her upper back, the only thing keeping her standing as she bore the queen’s obvious anger and the stone-faced Queenshield who surrounded them as if they were common criminals.
“Can I rest before you yell at me?” she asked around a yawn. “I know I make it look easy, but Empyrean work is very draining.”
Aveline’s cheeks deepened to purple, but Faron was too tired to be satisfied. “I do not think you understand how serious the situation is, Empyrean. People are already calling the appearance of that dragon an unprovoked attack that spits in the face of the Summit and needs to be answered with a declaration of war.”
“Isn’t it?” Faron asked to be contrary, though Aveline’s words sent her heart racing.
“San Irie cannot handle a second war,” said Aveline, her tone icy. “Though we have the support, we do not have the resources. They have ten fully bonded dragons; we have five drakes—four, if mine is excluded. They have an army and a navy that can draft additional soldiers from over fifty territories with an approximately combined four hundred million people. We have an island of just over one million people, only a portion of which is able-bodied and of age for drafting into the army, and a navy largely comprised of raiders, pirates, and volunteer soldiers from the other islands. If there is another war,we will lose.” Her black eyes were as cold as obsidian. “You and I will be captured and executed. Our island will be colonized. Our people will be enslaved again to send a message to the rest of the empire. Do you understand the severity now?”
Faron’s smile faded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good.” Aveline continued to stare at her for a long moment before she finally moved on. “I will be taking Nobility to Beacon for an emergency peace talk with Commander Warwick. In the meantime, I need you to stay here and protect San Irie if anything should happen.”
“Um.” Faron exchanged a glance with Reeve, who looked similarly mystified. “Your Majesty, I’m seventeen years old.”
“And you were twelve years old when you went to war. Age is not a factor here. If these peace talks break down, if I am kidnapped or worse, I need to know the island is in capable hands. Your ability to summon the gods may be the only shield San Irie has against however the Langlish plan to raise the First Dragon.”
Faron tried not to wince. Aveline had no idea how long it hadbeen since she’d summoned the gods. The queen would probably agree with the gods that the dragons needed to be eradicated, regardless of whether Elara could be rescued first. She would probably condemn Faron for what she’d done to save Reeve’s life. And confessing to Aveline about being in touch with the Gray Saint, let alone learning magic from him? Faron might as well lock herself up and save the time.
But Aveline was right that the Childe Empyrean was the only thing the Langlish truly feared. Faron couldn’t shake the queen’s faith in her now, not with everything going on. Now, more than ever, they needed to stand united.
“We can handle things here,” she assured Aveline. “Just let me get some sleep before you leave, and there’s nothing to worry about.”
Aveline nodded, and for once there was something in her eyes that might have been respect instead of resentment. It was hard to tell, because it was so unexpected, so new, but the potential of it made Faron smile, anyway. As much as the thought of another war made her body grow cold, she had forgotten how a common enemy had been the only thing that kept her and Aveline from being at each other’s throats. They’d won the war together. And together was how they would win again now.
“Your rooms are still open for you,” said Aveline. Her eyebrows were drawn together beneath her diadem, her mind clearly thousands of miles across the Ember Sea. “Welcome back to Port Sol, Empyrean, and thank you for your service.”
Nearly a full day had passed by the time Faron finally woke up.
Nobility was still parked on the airfield, alongside two otherdrakes that had newly arrived, and she padded down the hallways until she found Aveline in her room with her hair in a loose Afro and a leather-bound book in her hands. Candlelight brightened her room, rather than the lamps, and the flickering flames brought out the golden undertones in her light brown skin.
She looked up as Faron stepped past her outer guard, gold illuminating her umber eyes. “In another hour, I was going to send a servant to make sure you were alive.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Aveline’s answering smile was a little off, but Faron ignored it to come closer. Everything seemed new to her after the last two months, like the light gold color of the walls that shone like trapped sunlight and the bay window that overlooked the queen’s private beach. Even Aveline looked new to her, more like the girl she’d once admired and less like the woman who took every opportunity to slight her.
“My mothers left this journal for me at Renard Hall,” Aveline said, opening the book and smoothing down the pages. “I found it there when I visited after the war, addressed to me. Explanations for why they left me on the farm instead of raising me themselves. A personal treatise on ruling the island—in case they didn’t make it to teach me. ‘To be queen,’” she read, “‘is to live on borrowed time. It’s to train your daughter for a job she will have only when you are dead, to be but one runner in a marathon that will have a bloody end. To be queen is the most complicated, unfair, frustrating, rewarding, enriching, and humbling experience one can ever have, and it’s the result of a simple accident of birth. We are all born to die, but by chance you are born to lead.’”
She slammed the book shut so hard that Faron jumped. “But itwasn’t by chance, was it? I was perfectly happy with my adopted family. I was perfectly happy with the farm. You brought me into this, and now we’re both trapped.”
