Blue Fire Page 11

  Tressa began toying with the gold chains dangling from her rings. Jerroth tried to start a loud conversation with Harthin.

  My mind continued to make slow realizations. Card playing. Gambling. Father’s a fool, Paige had hissed that first day.

  “You made up the card game, didn’t you?” I said. Betrayal pierced my heart. “You asked in front of Paige so I’d try to invite—then you could insult—”

  Naive, I caught from the crowd. A Dragon Mage murmured that while she missed the parties, she did not miss the manipulations of court.

  Tressa reached for my hand. “Maybe I went too far. But you need to see—”

  I stepped away. “You used me.”

  “Only Paige thinks poorly of you, and her opinion hardly matters,” Tressa hissed. She tried to get close again. “Quit making a spectacle.”

  How many other times had Tressa used me? How much had I not understood? Every moment I spent with Tressa, I lived in terror of saying or doing the wrong thing. The fact was, I wasn’t a noble. I might never be. There was no way I could be elegant, or flirtatious, or able to speak one thing but mean another.

  My eyes grew hot, either from anger or from tears or from shame, I didn’t know, for I kept thinking over and over, I don’t want to be Tressa.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  I turned to go; Tressa grabbed my arm and a spark of guilt tried to ignite, but I ignored it and shook her off. I had to get away. I couldn’t bear to have those people staring at me, analyzing me, snickering at me.

  Pitying me.

  Tressa called for me to stop. Instead, I hurried through the dance floor. I murmured excuses to countless people as I bumped into dancers, stepping on skirts, barely dodging. I held out my arms on the other side of the cavern, adoring the space. It was cooler here, the scent of water strong, and there—Paige sat in one of the empty chairs along the wall. Her eyes glistened as if she’d been crying.

  Before I could think things through, I stood before her. “I’m sorry—”

  She waved her hand. “No need. I saw your face.”

  I slid into the chair beside her. “I’m still sorry. For tonight and for, well, ignoring you, and the day we met—”

  A soft laugh. “You mean, when we lined up by rank? I suppose you didn’t know back then.”

  I blushed out of embarrassment, but I was also pleased. The light had come back into her eyes.

  Paige angled her body toward me. “Listen. I forgive you. For everything. Now, hurry to Tressa before she notices that you slipped away.”

  “What happened to make her hate you so?”

  “I made a mistake,” Paige said. When it was clear I was waiting for more, she sighed. “My family’s always been poor. When we were younger, Tressa wasn’t so… elegant. I resented her. As we grew older, she became better at hiding her disdain, or maybe she began to pity me, but I couldn’t see the change. At her sixteenth birthday party, I overheard her say something snide about a friend of mine. I… lost my temper.”

  “You yelled? Like I just did.”

  Paige laughed, not happily, and her gaze flicked to the waterfall. “I wish. Did you know I’m skilled with Illusion?”

  She opened a hand and there, in her palm, prowled a miniature tiger. Fur rippled as muscles flexed, and I heard the pant of breath and the low rumbles in its chest. Paige had created it in a mere second, as if it were as simple as Light.

  It vanished.

  “The Duke of Evenspire has one in his menagerie,” Paige continued. “It was quite believable when a life-sized tiger took after Tressa. She screamed her head off and—”

  Her amusement died. “She hates me. Which she should. It was a cruel joke, crueler than her gossip, and it made her the fool of court. That’s why she is here. Her mother hopes she will find a husband, and, in her absence, the court will focus on the next scandal.”

  “Oh.” Tressa’s presence at the Kyer had always puzzled me. “I see.”

  “No, you don’t,” Paige said gently. “No more than you saw that waterfall as a facade. For if you did see, you would stop talking to me. Right now.”

  “But I—”

  “You’re a blue, but that can’t save you from hatred. Not from her.”

  I shook my head. “Tressa became my friend before she knew about my Gift. She can be kind. Surely there’s some way…”

  Paige stood as if she’d help me by leaving herself. “There is no way you can play the Game on your own. Go back to Tressa.”

  “I don’t want this ‘Game.’” I stood with her. “I want friends who are real friends.”

  “You are her friend,” Paige said. She gestured to the swirl of dancers I’d waded through. “Tressa genuinely likes you. But you’re also beneficial to her, and she is good for you. Don’t throw everything away for someone who has already lost.”

  I took a step toward the crowd of endless nobles. Orrik had thought, despite my awkward ways, I’d find a place here. “I thought the Kyer was different.”

  “They say the Kyer is a sanctuary for people like me, but it’s not completely.” Paige stared at a cluster of Dragon Mages, all middle-aged and in uniform. They hadn’t done up their hair, and their jewelry was simple. “In a decade, maybe.”

  I made a decision. “Paige, sit down.”

  She frowned.

  “I’m going to be a Dragon Mage in a little over a month. I hope. So I’m going to start acting like a Dragon Mage now, not a decade from now.” I sat and patted the chair beside me. “If Tressa truly is my friend, she’ll let me make other friends.”

  Paige’s eyes glistened. She lowered herself onto the chair as if she expected it to prick her. “Shamino was right about you. He said you weren’t like the others.”

  “Shamino? How do you—”

  “Know the Kyer’s hermit?” Paige smiled. “We grew up together.”

  Of course. Paige knew Tressa; Tressa knew Shamino.

  “When I was five, Shamino found me crying in a corner. We’ve been friends since.” She smoothed her plain skirt. “The friendship made more sense when we were five.”

  I peered at her. “You’re in love with him?”

  Paige burst out laughing—a full, from-the-belly laugh. “First One, no! He’s like my big brother. Most of the time, he drives me insane. Like tonight. He needs to leave the Quarters and find a way to cope with women, but he hides behind his dragons. By the Queen’s Jewels, it’s been three years.”

  Once again, a reference to events I didn’t know. I nodded anyway, but Paige saw through my mask.

  “I wish I were a Threepines,” Paige said with a sigh. “I thought everyone knew about him. In short, Shamino was a chubby, carrot-headed boy whom everyone ignored. His brother died. Everyone turned to the new heir, and—” She waved her hands in the air. “Overnight, Shamino had grown into the man every woman dreams of, physically and financially.”

  I couldn’t imagine an unattractive Shamino. I tried, but I just couldn’t.

  “Women fell at his feet,” Paige continued. She wrinkled her nose. “Made him sort of an arrogant bastard for a while. Regardless, his father wanted Shamino to honor the marriage contract drawn up for his brother. Instead, Shamino defied him, because the girl he’d been daft for since childhood had suddenly declared herself in love with him. The day after their engagement, Shamino found her kissing someone else. She’d never wanted him—she wanted a handsome and obscenely rich husband.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said.

  “That’s court.” Paige sounded like a tax collector stating the current value of wheat. “Shamino never recovered, even after his disinheritance. I keep telling him that he can go out in public without declaring marriage, but he won’t listen.”

  I leaned back in my seat. In the cloud of dancers, I recognized no fewer than five woman who had begged Shamino to escort them—and I had only seen the women who had hounded Shamino in the afternoons. “I don’t blame him. Women hunt him.”

  “Because he hides. He’s
made himself mysterious. If he was out more, the ladies would get used to—I better go.”

  She fled before I had time to react. When I saw Jerroth at the crowd’s edge, I understood why. He came straight to me.

  “Adara, go back and apologize.”

  His commanding tone made me feel like a child. I stayed seated. “She’s not apologizing to me. And she started it.”

  Blessed rain, I sound like a child.

  “I’m serious. You can mend this if you go to her.”

  Most of the time, Jerroth kept to the side, aloof and watching. Right now, though, his ice-blue eyes had melted with concern.

  I softened my tone. “I will apologize. Just… not right now.”

  He made an exasperated sound and took Paige’s former chair. “If you say you’re sorry now, in front of everyone, it will all be as before. Yes, Tressa didn’t behave properly, but you don’t know what happened in the past.”

  “Paige just told me. She regrets what happened.”

  “That may be, but the consequences are still affecting Tressa.”

  A server of champagne approached. Jerroth waved him away without even looking at him. The gesture struck me. Mother had been like that, invisible and insignificant in the dramas of the nobles’ world. Until one man looked at her…

  I swallowed and forced myself to think of my own drama. “Tressa’s anger affects Paige still. Can I not be friends with both of them?”

  By Jerroth’s confused look? No.

  The music changed and a new dance began. The previous music had been upbeat, but this song was sweeping and slow. Almost mournful. Almost.

  Jerroth’s eyes pierced me. “She’s your friend. Isn’t that worth something?”

  A friend who uses me.

  My eyes became hot. “I’m tired of questioning everything she does. Like tonight. Tressa offered me her earrings, but she didn’t do it in private, she offered so everyone could hear how the rich, generous Lady was helping her poor friend.”

  “That’s what’s bothering you? Adara, what else is friendship?”

  I tried to hide my disbelief by staring at my hands. The farming calluses had faded; new ones from the Dragon Quarters were forming.

  He truly sees no issue with such a friendship. Will Paige be any different? Paige still thought in terms of the court, for all she seemed to dislike it. The way she’d spoken of Shamino’s past, her tone full of judgment for his blindness and determination, it bothered me.

  Jerroth stood. “I don’t know what else to say. Tressa has shown you great favor and kindness. Apologize, if not to repair the friendship, then to at least show gratitude for what she’s done for you thus far.”

  This is my world now. Carefree giggles with peasant girls, that was gone. Stoneyfield was gone. Most of all, Jerroth was right. Just because I didn’t understand the rules didn’t mean that, from their perspective, they hadn’t been well meaning. Even Paige had said Tressa loved me as a friend.

  As I stood to go with Jerroth, the music stopped. A magically enhanced voice boomed over the crowd:

  “INCOMING WOUNDED.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tressa would have to wait.

  By the time I changed my clothes and made my way to the Infirmary in the Dragon Quarters, it already seethed with activity. Three sets of double doors opened to a moonless night, and unknown mages lined the platforms with Lights. Other mages, some still in their ball attire, sent Light after Light to the smoothed ceiling of the massive cavern.

  Dragons worked, too. Ten rock beds filled the cavern, but Raul hurriedly relocated the piles, pushing them closer together. An unknown dragon dropped two clawfuls of rocks on the ground and loped back outside.

  My stomach dropped. More than ten wounded. Can Shamino even heal ten?

  Shamino stood in the churning mass, wearing a sleeveless tunic and torn breeches—clothing he could destroy later. He consulted a red journal as he directed Byron, the other mage who worked the Dragon Quarters with Sylvia and me. The middle-aged man used his Gift to load massive carts with bandages, splints, needles, pliers, anything that might be needed for healing.

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  Shamino looked up from his book. “You can help…” His words died as he watched Byron.

  I have no Gift. Bandages for dragons were too bulky and heavy to wrestle on my own. I followed Shamino’s gaze as he surveyed the Infirmary. Lights? Moving rocks? Another dragon entered and started breathing fire on beds. I couldn’t help with that, either, which was unfortunate because dragons could only sustain short bursts of fire.

  “I can help Sylvia?” I suggested as I spotted the woman beside shelves of herbs.

  Shamino shook his head. “She needs to handle the herbs personally to enhance them in the potions. Once she makes the potions, you can administer them, but…”

  For now, I’m useless.

  “Pick a dragon,” Shamino decided. “Any of the unbonded, an aggressive but cooperative one. The two of you can subdue any unruly dragons or mages.”

  “Subdue?”

  “We had a problem last time,” Shamino said. He waved Byron past, who was now pushing a heaping cart, again with his Gift. “I need the dragons calm. If they’re too distressed, they can’t lower the barrier and my magic won’t work. Any mage who harasses anyone has to leave.”

  ‘Subduing’ a mage sounded as impossible as using my Gift. “How am I supposed to make them do anything? If they use magic—”

  “That’s why you need a dragon, to shield you. A dragon can restrain a patient, too, if it becomes upset when its mage leaves.”

  This just sounded better and better.

  “Adara.” Shamino set the book on a cart and put his hands on my shoulders. “I need someone I can trust. You’re not bonded, but you get along with dragons, and I know you’ll do what’s best for them.”

  His words filled me with tingly warmth. I cycled through the dragons living in the Quarters. Maolmuire hands-down was the most aggressive. He respected me now, sort of, but I didn’t want to rely on him as I confronted hysterical mages. There was, however, one dragon in the Quarters who never let Maolmuire bully her.

  “Mettalise,” I said.

  “I’ll call her.” Shamino unfocused his eyes for a brief moment. Then he and his book left to ask a mage to adjust some Lights.

  Barely a minute passed before Mettalise lighted on a platform. Her iridescent scales shone blue, green, and even pink. Midnight-blue eyes flecked with silver surveyed the room. She broke into a toothy smile when she spotted me and walked over with a draconian swagger.

  I relaxed instantly. Only a fool—or Maolmuire—would mess with Mettalise.

  Shamino hurried to us. “They’re here. First thing, I’ll sort the dragons by severity. That’s when we had trouble last time. Get ready.”

  The wounded appeared out of the darkness. Half of the dragons were carried, and as they were lowered onto the platform, I noticed that the flying dragons bore injuries, too. A few of the wounded flew themselves. A creamy dragon crashed into the landing area, her throat covered with bloody bubbles. Raul helped her inside. A smear of blood trailed behind them.

  “Shredded wings, here!” Shamino shouted over the groans and chaos. He waved the carriers of a green dragon to one end of the room, paused. Something horrible flooded his face. He changed his wave. The green dragon with shredded wings went to the middle of the room, though I didn’t know how he’d survive long enough for Shamino to tend to him. Shamino waved a second dragon with the same injury to the front of the line.

  Then Shamino caught sight of the bloody-throated dragon. He muttered a curse before putting her second in line.

  The green one with shredded wings gave an anguished cry. My skin crawled. It sounded worse than a cry of pain, but then I’d never heard a dragon scream before. I wrung my hands as he did it again.

  *His mage is dead.*

  I jumped. That voice, it came from—

  *I’m using telepathy.*
r />   Mettalise’s midnight eye stared straight at me.

  *Please don’t scream or make a scene. Not that anyone would hear you over Therrin’s dirge, poor thing. We’ll have a fight when Shamino tries to heal him.*

  “You’re—” I looked around. All humans busied themselves with dragons. Still, I whispered and hoped she could hear me above the noise. “You’re talking to me?”

  *Yes, and breaking all sorts of rules, so please don’t tell. I feel the advantage of speaking during triage is worth the headache I’ll have later.*

  “We’re bonded?”

  *Quieter! No, and sadly we don’t have time to teach you telepathy. Other questions, quick.*

  “Why is Therrin in the middle?”

  Mettalise bowed her head. *When a bond breaks, it’s like losing half of ourselves. Humans recover. We don’t. A healed Therrin wouldn’t live the week.*

  The dragon moaned once more and, now that I knew why, the sound wrenched my heart. Shreds of membrane pooled on the floor around him, floating on blood and tears.

  *Mourn later. We have work to do.*

  I pulled my attention away from the dying Therrin. A woman with a blood-soaked uniform screeched at Shamino.

  “You idiot! Did you even look at Grantham? Ramiel should have never given his position to a boy—”

  “And while you argue, all the dragons are bleeding,” Shamino snapped. He held the shredded membranes of the yellow dragon’s wings together with his hands, but he couldn’t work his Gift with her yelling.

  I took a deep breath, told myself to act and not to think, and stepped between the woman and Shamino. “Excuse me, but you need to let the Seneschal heal.”

  “You’re even younger than him!” the woman exclaimed. “This is insupportable. If the Dragonmaster—”

  “How can I help you?” I asked, hoping to talk her out of her anger. I took a small step closer; she unconsciously took a step backward. ‘Herding’ was a trick Garth had often used to prevent a brawl.

  “Grantham’s over there.” The mage pointed to a dragon four beds down. Three spears protruded from his belly. “Jaya flew here. She’s fine, but Grantham had to be carried and—”