“Daughters?” Faraday is on his feet and taking Orinna’s elbow. “How many daughters?”
“Twelve, I believe.” Orinna, one of Lenka’s nieces, allows Faraday to see her from the chamber.
I would caution him to stay out of trouble, to respect the Black Wings and not trifle with their females. But perhaps he needs to learn firsthand about the warrior maidens that rule the Black Wing clan with iron talons.
With the meeting room cleared and no further business for the evening, I stand and stretch my wings. Now that the DragonLands are humming with new life, the first month after the curse has been a whirlwind of work. Every ruling house of Oblivion has sought contact, many of them old enemies or allies. Many of them with hidden agendas. It’s been like navigating a pit of vipers.
I stride out, my new honor guard bowing as I pass. I’m still not used to it. The DragonKin that returned have all recognized me as their ruler. No infighting—at least not yet. Sela’s death cemented my place as king even among her own DaySilver Clan, or what’s left of it.
I allowed them to return to their ancestral Keep within the DragonLands. But I won’t ever make the mistake of turning my back on them. Lenka is there. Running their household, ensuring they keep the peace, and reporting back to Rivon with any whispers she might glean from them. She volunteered for the position; said it was the only way she could regain my trust and prove her loyalty to the Golden Horde. I granted herrequest. Forgiving her for what happened to Larellin isn’t within my power. I am, after all, a DragonKin. Harming my treasure—even if it’s with good intentions—isn’t something I can tolerate. But Larellin wanted mercy for Lenka, so mercy was granted.
The halls are slowly returning to their former glory. Passing the throne room, I see Firefolk inside. They work tirelessly to repair the palace. Building furniture, polishing every bit of metal and stone, and treating every piece of our shared history with reverence. They’re as happy to be back at home as the DragonKin.
Crossing the parapet to the library spire, I stop for a moment and simply look out over the DragonLands. The village of Kunrith is lit with new streetlamps, lazy curls of smoke rising from chimneys. The Firefolk restored their village to its former glory at an impressive pace with plenty of help from the Golden Horde’s treasure stores. They will never want for anything again, not as long as the DragonKin flies the skies above them.
The DragonLands are awake again, the entire region open to settlers from neighboring lands. Growing pains are inevitable, but I want to make my parents’ dreams of a thriving kingdom into a reality. One step at a time.
I turn and walk the rest of the way into the eastern spire. Students hurry past, young DragonKin sent to the Palace of the Sky to begin their instruction in the way of the dragon. The library fared better than the rest of the palace over the centuries. The godsbone preservation here was stronger, likely bolstered by the treasure trove of magical artifacts stored in the crypts below.
Students bump into each other as they halt and bow. “No need. You don’t have to—” One young DragonKin falls over in hisattempt to bow particularly low. “Here.” I grab his arm and help him to his feet.
He swallows hard. I can tell by the color of his scales that he’s a DaySilver, a scared one by the state of his sweaty brow.
“S-s-sire.” He tries to bow again.
“Just stand, son. You’re all right. You are welcome here.” I pat his shoulder and continue deeper into the spire.
He stares after me. I may keep a close watch on his older brethren, but all are welcome in the Palace of the Sky. He’s far too young to have had anything to do with Sela the Usurper or her ilk. If anything, I want more DaySilvers here so they can learn to cooperate with all the clans, to find common ground, to understand that we are stronger together, not in separate factions.
I catch a scent on the air and speed my steps. Honeysuckle. The sweet tang after a spring rain.
By the time I reach the library, I brush past a few dozen gawking students and hurry along.
“—does reading seem like so much work? I mean, it would take me the rest of my lifetime and your lifetime and all the lifetimes to get through every book in here. The thought alone makes me tired,” Larellin grumbles from her spot at one of the reading tables.
“For someone who inherited the magic and heart of the queens of the DragonLands—” He looks pointedly at her circlet, you seem to have missed gaining their curiosity.”
“That’s not true. I’m curious. Like, when will I get my wings? When will I turn into a dragon? You said there was a chance.”
He gives a long-suffering sigh. “A chance. Not definitive. The history of the diadem was most likely lost in the fire at the Library of Vines. Though, there could be a tome somewhere here that has more information.”
“But you knew about it. You knew it would save my life.”
“Iguessedit might save your life. All the rest of the magic it’s given you is a mystery to me.”
“So we’re looking in the wrong books?” she asks, devilry in her tone. Gods, she’s so good at riling Brin up. He falls for it every time.
Brin pinches the bridge of his nose. “You need to know these things, my queen. Why do you think we spent all this time learning to read? So you can what? Squander it?”
“I’m not squandering anything. I’m simply pointing out that memorizing the line of Golden Horde succession is boring and serves no purpose. And what’s a con-cuco-cubine? A—” She tries it again. “A con-cu-bine? What is that? This says Vander’s great-great-great-grand-dragon had, let me see. It’s a three and a two, so 32 of them. Is that like a medal or something?”
Brin clears his throat. “That’s ah … Concubines are?—”
“Nothing you ever need to concern yourself with,” I finish for him and drop a kiss on her exposed neck.
She turns quickly, the green emerald diadem flashing. “Where have you been!” Jumping up, she hugs me. “Brin has been boring me to death for hours!”
I pick her up and kiss her.
