She closes her eyes briefly, willing herself to stop shivering. No matter how warm it is here, ever since she saw Skylar on top of Mjolnir she hasn’t been able to stop shaking. A stress response—and the fact that she still hasn’t taken her tonic isn’t helping, either. She’ll take it as soon as she returns to her room, she vows. She doesn’t want to fall into a depressive episode, or worse, a manic one; but since Jessa, she’s felt like she wanted to experience her emotions exactly as they are. As stupid as she knows that is.
The king tuts impatiently, and Astrid opens her eyes again. Whatever the Custodian says in the next few minutes will determine the outcome of the duel. They all know it.
She dares glance at Zryan over by the window and finds he’s alreadywatching her. He always seems to be watching her. She has an insane urge to go to him, to bury her face in his neck and block out this entire room of people. She went straight to find him after the locator spell. He’d been with Axel, and she’d yelled at them to find their heir, to do something. Not that there was anything they could do for Cam.
Zryan cocks his head, in question, and she nods—a lie. She turns away, checking on Skylar.
Skylar hasn’t been able to make eye contact with Astrid at all this morning. In fact, Astrid hasn’t seen or spoken to her for three days, not since she told Skylar about Cam. Of course she’d tried to see Skylar, wanted to be there for her like Skylar had been there for Astrid after Jessa died, but the dragon heir had shut herself away. The only one allowed to enter her room is Bastet, purely for Kaida’s benefit. Astrid hasn’t pried, just asked Bastet each day how Skylar’s doing, and he answers the same each time: SHE IS IN PAIN.
And doesn’t Astrid know it. It’s only been a week since Jessa died. Since she was taken from Astrid, just like the Vatrans took Cam from Skylar. She closes her fists, relishes the pinch of her nails in her palms. The more she learns, the more she’s coming around to Skylar’s way of thinking—that it is the Vatrans behind the assassination attempts. Behind Jessa’s death. And now, she just wants this to be over, to get out of this stuffy room. Away from the king and his callousness. Thank Sqaõi he won’t be at the Measuring this afternoon. She can barely face that pointless event as it stands. Though at least it’ll be a closed event now—no one coming to gawp at her and place bets on who will live and who will die.
“I’m afraid I can’t give you the answer you’re looking for,” the Custodian finally says. Her mother’s hand flies out to grip Astrid’s. A brief flare of hope lights inside of her. “You have to understand, there is no precedent for this. This is the first-ever instance of a person being bonded to a dragon and being permitted to ride another. Mjolnir—”
“Mjolnir should not be able to participate in this duel. He is mine.” Zryan’s voice is quiet, but it cuts Astrid right to the quick. He sounds possessive, but when his gaze travels to her—and Axel’s furious one follows—she tenses. Because the possessiveness is not for Mjolnir. It’s for her. He’s trying to protect Astrid. The fear subsides a little.
The Custodian wrings his hands. “No doubt, no doubt, he is your bonded. But there is some connection between him and the princess, otherwise he would not have allowed her to ride him.”
“It doesn’t matter,” the king says, waving a hand. “All we need to know is, can she take Mjolnir into the duel?”
The Custodian pulls at his collar. “As I say, I cannot answer that. The wording states the Vatran heir will take in their bonded dragon—”
“Dragon, singular,” Gwen cuts in. “May take in a single bonded dragon. And that is Kaida.”
Skylar shoots Gwen a filthy look.
“Indeed, she may only be able to take in a single bonded dragon,” the custodian replies. “But Kaida may not be heronlybonded dragon.” The room goes deathly still. “Only a bonded rider can fly on the back of a dragon, and Princess Skylar flew on the back of Mjolnir. What I’m saying is, ahh.” He pauses. “Only Mjolnir can tell us whether he can enter that arena.”
Silence. Her mum’s grip is so tight she’s starting to lose the feeling in her fingers.
“Well?” The king points at Skylar. “What does Mjolnir say?”
Zryan rises abruptly from the windowsill and turns his back to the room. Gods, he already knows what they’re all wondering, doesn’t he? He knows what Mjolnir plans to do. She can’t tell whether it’s good news or bad news for her. If Mjolnir says yes, then she’s lost. That will be it for Arturea. She’ll need to find the Heart some other way.
Skylar’s twirling her pin over and over, her amber eyes flicking between Kaida curled up at her feet and the pin, and Astrid watches, hypnotized by the flashing silver. There’s athumpfrom the desk. Ottilie is braced over it, eyes wide, but she’s not looking at the Custodian—she’s watching Skylar, too. The incessant spinning.
Wrenching herself from her mum’s grip, Astrid approaches Skylar and grasps her hand, smothering it. She knows how Skylar’s mind works, knows what she’s worrying about right now.
“And if Mjolnir refuses Skylar, does she have to take Kaida into the cage?”
“I, well, that would be highly unusual. No one has ever decided not to—”
“No one’s had an infant dragon before, have they?” Skylar spits.
“True, true.” Stars, this Custodian is a pain in the ass. “But I’m afraid the answer is yes—the Covenant states the heir ‘will’ take in a bonded dragon, and my interpretation of this is that you must take a dragon into the duel or risk forfeiture.”
Skylar’s head falls forward. Kaida huffs a plume of black smoke, distressed at Skylar’s obvious torment.
“But what of Mjolnir?” the king demands.
Zryan turns back to the room, eyes bright and dreadful. Astrid knows then, before Skylar speaks.
“He says he will do it. Mjolnir will enter the duel.”
The easy sound of gentle laughter guides Astrid through a small reception area and out to a terrace on the east side of the castle. It boasts the benefit of a sea breeze, and she takes a moment to savor it. The fresh air helps her breathe through the anxiety. She has a week, she reminds her body, before she comes face-to-face with Mjolnir.Calm down. She’s finally taken her tincture again, not that it’s helped much yet.
“It’s so different from the last Measuring,” her mother says behind her, taking in the gaggle of brightly dressed people drinking tea and politely nibbling pastries. “Your uncle’s was a circus. Like, every highborn person in the kingdom had turned up to gamble their riches, absolutely no awareness of the two men who would be dueling for their lives. Not that Zachary cared. He reveled in it, showing off his power. His beast. Wanting people to bet on him, wanting Aaren to know just what an underdog he was.”
“It sounds like the king hasn’t changed much.” The relief that she and Skylar won’t be subjected to the true tradition of the Measuring is—ironically—immeasurable. If they had tried to go ahead with the betting, Astrid would have refused. Skylar probably would have just sucked them dry.
