The man looks her up and down, maybe taking in the bandage on her hand, stained with blood. Skylar reaches up to finger the pin in her hair, but no need to use it—because he’s already walking away. She lets out a slow breath. Focus. She needs to focus here.
She weaves with more determination toward the harbor, sliding out her pin so she is ready to argue with anyone should she need to. Her heart leaps as she sees a line of soldiers, their backs to the water. Their dragon helmets are adorned with streaks of blue, blue patches on their tan leather armor. What does blue mean? There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach as she remembers her time in one particular village, where soldiers passed through. They all hid at camp that day, but Aldric told them not to worry—the red soldiers were the only ones to fear. The Blooded.
So this must be the Bloodless segment—which means the royals can’t be all that worried.
The soldiers look bored. Some of them are leaning on their spears, the dragon-tail points angled down. She could still ask one of them. Even if they’re Bloodless, maybe they’ll know something useful.
She’s right at the front of the crowd, where a line has formed, the city guards keeping them a safe distance from the docks. She is moving away from the masses, toward the soldiers, when a guard spots her. He crosses to her in an instant, shoving her back in line without a word. There’s a sword at his side, but he doesn’t even go for it. He’salready walking away when she glares at him. She clenches her hand into a fist, steps forward again.
Don’t be an idiot, Lar.
She hesitates. He’s probably right—getting arrested would not be a good thing. Worse than that, actually. It would almost definitely be catastrophic.
There are whispers traveling from person to person now, the noise rising through the dusty air. Then she hears it—the cause of the murmurings. The sound of bells, ringing beyond the walls.
Which can only mean one thing. The witches are coming.
5Astrid
The cloudless sky is tinged blossom pink, a few stars beginning their nighttime vigil along with Maja, the larger of the two moons that guard the night. Astrid’s breath catches at the sight before her. A golden city punctuated by pointed spires glitters on the horizon, the hazy air creating the illusion it’s floating. The castle—The Rok as it’s named—is set high upon cliffs of sandstone overlooking the city below, and surrounding it are huge watchtowers with flat tops that remind Astrid of perches you might find in a bird’s cage.
So this is Talrok—the Stone City. It is one of the most beautiful places she’s ever seen. Her dad told her as much, during one of their nightly hot chocolate sessions, but his descriptions did it little justice. Goddess, she misses him, today more than ever.
A bell tower sits on either side of the river, the bells ringing in welcome, or warning, that the northern royals are approaching. They crossed into Vatra yesterday evening, after sailing across the Asur Sea. It took longer than it should have; her mother was being overcautious and didn’t want to risk straying too far east into the Mists—a place where sailors venture and never return. The crossing barely registered with Astrid, not when Jessa kept her busy with training, the thought of the Blight spurring Astrid on almost as much as the idea of the dragon that awaits her.
The deck vibrates under her feet as her mother’s familiar comes to sit beside her, warm brown eyes focused on the horizon.
“It looks like it’s made from pure gold,” she murmurs.
Bjorn is quiet for a moment. HOW ARE YOU FEELING?
Astrid considers the question. How is she feeling? Not quite herself,but not in a bad way. She feels almost like a spectator of her own life. Seeing the Stone City, being in Vatra at last, it’s not fully sinking in why she’s here. Her mother would call it denial. Astrid thinks it’s self-preservation.
“I’m okay,” she says, and it’s the truth. “What’s Mum doing?”
WITHJESSA EATING SUPPER, IF YOU WANT TO JOIN THEM.
The last thing Astrid wants to do is eat, but she should try at least.
“Sure. Are you coming?”
IT IS TOO CRAMPED AND TOO HOT FOR ME INSIDE. As much as Gwen could cast a cooling charm in the cabin, Astrid knows she is focusing her energy on the protections around the boat for when they enter Talrok. Bjorn huffs down onto the deck, stretching out like an oversize cat, and she smiles at the familiarity of it before heading inside. Her mum looks up from the rye roll she’s buttering and gives her a sympathetic smile that puts Astrid on edge.
“My miracle girl, how are you—”
“I’m good,” Astrid interrupts, taking a seat by Jessa. “Trying to keep a clear head and prepare myself.”
She can’t allow her emotions to get the better of her this evening, not when she’s finally going to come face-to-face with Prince Zryan.
“In which case, let’s talk about what you’re going to wear,” says Jessa, no-nonsense, just like Astrid needs her to be. She notices Jessa’s hair is freshly dyed, blond roots no longer visible, and she’s wearing a slim-fitting blue tunic and leggings to match Astrid’s outfit. She’s in full decoy mode.
Astrid grins at her. “How feminist of you.”
Jessa clips her around the head. “I’m not talking about some weird presentation-of-a-princess thing, I’m talking about the presents I got you.” Jessa smirks. Oh Gods, what has she done? Some of Jessa’s gifts in the past haven’t been suitable for polite company, and definitely not suitable for her mother to see.
“First, your new armor.” Jessa grabs a burlap bag from the floor and hands it to Astrid. “For the meeting with the dragons later. They’ll be at the harbor to ‘officially’?”—she air quotes—“greet us before we’re taken to the castle, and that’ll be out in the open. I don’t trust themortheir people, so you’re wearing that.”
Quincy grunts in agreement. Astrid pulls the tan leather jerkin from the bag, admiring it.
