Zryan sweeps a gaze across her body, assessing in a way that feels distinctly warrior-like. “Are you still hurt?”
“I don’t think so,” she says, flexing a few muscles in her body to be sure.
“Good. That means we can get on with the next lesson of the day.” He produces a small scroll.
“A get-well card? You shouldn’t have.”
“It’s a map,” he says, dropping it on her lap.
She frowns as she unrolls it, no idea what she’s looking at. There are lines that denote rivers, what looks like the symbol for mountains clustered in the middle, and a forest on one side. But there are no buildings—this can’t be a map of Vatra or the Stone City.
And she realizes. “This is the island.”
“Correct,” Zryan says. “There’s a path you have to follow during your trial—toward Draka herself.”
“Isn’t the whole island Draka?”
“Named after the volcano at its center.”
“Right.” And great—she not only has to face dragons, now she has to face a volcano, too.
“Bet it was easy for you, wasn’t it? Just Teleported straight from here to the volcano, right?”
“A, I can’t actually Teleport straight onto the island from the castle unless I want to wipe myself out; and B, the whole exercise is so the dragons can assess you, which means there’s little point in skipping to the end of the path.”
Skylar wrinkles her nose. “I’m not exactly a Wayfinder. What happens if I get lost?”
Zryan gives her a very direct look. “Humans are only allowed on the island with the express permission of the dragons—and you have to follow this one specific path. Along the way, the dragons will use their magic to test your courage, your resilience, your power. But if you choose to ignore their rules, they won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“Right. You could have just said, ‘Stick to the path, Skylar.’?”
She swears she sees the edge of a smile, gone so quickly she’s not sure if she imagined it. Then Zryan points at the map. “The route runs along the river. Find it, and show me.”
19Astrid
Dinner with the barons and baronesses of the Vatran territories is an intimate affair. They’re gathered in the queen’s rooms for a drinks reception, the atmosphere informal and the rooms themselves downright cozy: soft carpets, plush rugs, vases and art adorning every available space, and even rare dark-wood tables with lamps humming as they glow. As she suspected, though: no books on the Heart. She’d checked the few on the shelves, just in case.
Her mother is standing next to her, wearing a tan jerkin, as if she’s about to parley on a battlefield, not engage in small talk over a canapé.
“You need to relax,” Astrid says quietly, sipping her sparkling water.
“I’ll relax when people stop trying to kill you.”
“Yes, well, no one is trying right now and you’re putting me on edge.”
“Good, I want you on edge. Someone attempted to murder you in your bedroom a few nights ago.”
Astrid refrains from rolling her eyes. How many times have they talked about this? “The security’s been upped now, hasn’t it, and they’ve got Dreki out looking for the one who got away. With their new heir in danger, they’re just as eager as you to find whoever’s behind this.”
“I’m not so sure,” Jessa cuts in. “You did fall unconscious a couple days ago because she almost killed herself in training. Maybe they want to be rid of her. She’s not exactly the most… likable.”
The three of them look over to where Skylar stands with Axel and the king as they talk to the baroness of Sarkan, ruler of the northernmost territory of Vatra and the king’s closest ally. Astrid recognizeseveryone in the room, thanks to her father’s dedication to preparing her for the throne, which, at the time, was rather optimistic of him. Skylar is in a scarlet pantsuit, her bright hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her face set in that permanent frown. Axel says something and she grins at him, though it’s more like an animal baring its teeth.
“She’s not a natural diplomat, no,” Gwen says, and Jessa snorts. “Unlike her brother.”
Zryan, it turns out, is quite the diplomat. She’s watched him as he’s worked the room, noticed how every single guest has gravitated toward the prince. She hasn’t spoken to him since he turned up in her room like Nyord, God of the Wind and Sea himself, and she also hasn’t mentioned to anyone that he was there. If anything, she’s been trying to forget he was ever there at all.
“Well, he’s the official emissary for his father, was given the title as soon as he completed his training with the army. He’s spent a lot of time in the other territories.”
