He accepts with an unexpected lick of my cheek.
Great. Grizzly breath.
Azelie catches my eye and waves from the end of the table. Her pale hair is wrapped in two small buns on either side of the top of her head this morning, and I get the impression she changes styles often. The variety suits her, a girl who grew up not fearing change the way we Karthians did practically from birth.
“Who’s going to tour the city with me? I have the whole day planned.” Azelie crooks one of her dark brows, eyeing each of the crew in turn, but they all seem to be waiting for Kasmira’s answer.
“Not me, I’m afraid.” Kasmira pushes away her empty breakfast plate and stands. She’s wearing the clothes I remember from the night of the storm—a pale gray blouse, dark vest, and dark trousers, as well as her assortment of “cutlery,” her daggers in their sheaths. She must have found a way to wash her things, as I remember a lot of blood on that blouse. “I’m off to the harbor to oversee repairs.” Her expression darkens. “If they put a single nail in the wrong spot...”
“They’ll pay for it in blood, right?” Azelie chirps.
Kasmira blinks, bemused. “That’s right,” she says after a moment, then sweeps her gaze over the crew. “You lot are free to do what you want until further notice.” She turns to me. “Sparrow, your orders today are simple: Don’t start any fights you aren’t willing to finish, and don’t sustain any life-threatening injuries before suppertime.”
I try to hide my sheepish expression by stuffing a piece of waffle in my mouth. “Deal.”
Azelie glances from me to Meredy, her smile never dimming. “Guess it’s just the three—” She breaks off, interrupted by a grumble from Lysander as he sniffs the crew’s abandoned plates. “Four of us,” she amends as everyone else files out of the room. “First stop: my uncles’ dragon nursery.”
***
The wooden cart that pulls us out of the bustling city center is, disappointingly, driven by horses. Meredy and I take the narrow board that makes up the passengers’ seat—Azelie winking at me as I slide in next to Meredy—and our tour guide herself sits up front beside the driver. Of course, not being beside us doesn’t stop her from talking almost constantly as shop fronts give way to swaths of sunny fields where farmers keep watch over cows and gather produce.
“My uncles started their dragon nursery a year after they were married,” Azelie says from up front, snaring my attention. “They met while working on one, so it seemed fitting. I think you’ll really like it. The dragons are so cute when they’re little.”
Dragons, we learned over breakfast, are the cart-pulling lizards. They might be too small to ride, but they’re apparently much stronger than horses. They also help farmers protect livestock from predators; guard Sarral’s necromancers from Shades on the rare occasions that they visit the Deadlands; provide comfort to the sick and elderly; and—under the guidance of beast masters—run in races for sport and entertain people at festivals.
Meredy nudges my shoulder, her eyes wide, pointing at something in the distance. A jade-green dragon, smaller than the one I sawin the city, gathers apples in its mouth and drops them in a basket. Meredy looks completely smitten and seems to have forgotten some of her guilt at deciding to leave Lysander in the boarding house’s backyard—which, in sharp contrast to the closet-like rooms we’ve each been given, is actually of generous size, complete with trees for him to nap under.
“Most people can’t afford a dragon, and they’re quite difficult to breed,” Azelie goes on. “It’s usually only beast masters who keep them as companions, but occasionally a farmer scrapes together enough savings—that’s when they come see my uncles.”
Raising her voice over the noisy grind of the cart’s wheels, Meredy says, “I know Karthia hasn’t been open to visitors, but couldn’t beasts as strong as dragons swim to—?”
“Oh, no.” Azelie giggles. “They’re terrified of water. Now, there’s a kingdom far to the west that’s rumored to have much larger dragons. Ones that beast masters can’t control with their powers alone, so they have to keep them in chains for fear of death and destruction.” She wrinkles her nose. “But it’s entirely possible my mother made that up to scare my brothers and me into behaving.”
The landscape rushing past the cart turns wilder, the houses within sight of the dirt road becoming fewer, replaced by ancient, twisting trees that crowd the sides of the path ahead, making it narrower. Meredy leans into me, hiding her face against my neck as branches grasp at our hair and clothes.
“Dragons were rediscovered about two hundred and fifty years ago, which is why you’ve never heard of the—ah!” Azelie’s words end in a yelp as she ducks to avoid a branch. “There was just one small colony left, surviving in the barren canyons far outside the village of Ithax. People always thought the noises the dragons made were the cries of angry spirits echoing out of gates to the Deadlands—untilone woman was brave enough to explore and found a sick little creature too weak to do more than breathe puffs of smoke.”
The trees ahead begin to thin. We’ve almost reached our destination.
“No other kingdom that we know of has dragons like ours anymore,” Azelie continues, her words muffled as she hides her face from the branches by holding up the long skirt of her gauzy yellow dress. “That’s part of the reason we’re so afraid of the Ezorans. They take the most valuable things from the places they raid, and our dragons are priceless to us.”
We break free of the trees at last. A man who shares Azelie’s bright smile waves to us from a stable yard, and the cart grinds to a halt.
“Uncle Halmar,” Azelie murmurs as she leaps from her seat and runs to greet him. “What’s wrong?” Evidently, she sees something behind his smile that Meredy and I can’t. “Wasn’t Uncle Ino supposed to join us today, too?” she demands, seeming to shrink slightly in anticipation of the answer.
Halmar lowers his gaze. “He’s not coming, dear heart. Not in the mood to see anyone, I’m afraid. The Ezorans clashed with the guards at our northern border two nights ago, and one of Ino’s oldest friends was killed while on patrol—oh, no one you know,” he adds hurriedly, at Azelie’s horrified look. Clearing his throat, he continues, “An entire Sarralan patrol went down to a merehandfulof Ezorans. Ino’s just gotten word.” He wipes his damp brow and sighs. “They’re getting stronger, if that’s possible. And more daring.” Frowning, he finally regards Meredy and me. “I’m sorry. This is hardly a proper welcome, especially to visitors who’ve come from so far...”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say quickly.
“We’re so sorry about your husband’s friend,” Meredy adds.
We exchange a look. Between us, we’re so acquainted with the language of loss by now that we could probably teach others to read it.
Azelie puts a hand on her uncle’s arm. “The Queen’s Authority will drive them back eventually, like they have before.”
“Perhaps,” Halmar agrees. “But they need to drive those snakes awayfor good, not struggle through another skirmish. Of course, if the Ezorans turn away from Sarral, I bet they’ll merely find another land to stain red...”
A chill steals over me, one that lingers despite the sun bearing down on us. From the sound of things, if these Ezoran raiders got wind of Karthia’s recent change in leadership, they could devastate the kingdom in a blink. Still, if they were ever a threat in our long history, King Wylding never mentioned them. Maybe they’re as unaware of Karthia as we were of them. I hope so. Karthia hasn’t had an army since it finally proved long ago that no one from the outside world was allowed to enter. Now there are only handfuls of soldiers for the palace in Grenwyr, and guards for important nobles presiding over Karthia’s many provinces. I can’t imagine Valoria, capable as she is, has had time to recruit and train soldiers yet.
