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  Jerroth said nothing.

  “Worst of all, I can’t retaliate! Adara is an unknown—my friends at court have never heard of her. I should have listened to Gia. She said not to give favor to a backwater ingrate.”

  “No one can find fault in your generosity,” Jerroth said.

  “I heard she can’t even use her Gift!” Tressa railed on without seeming to hear. “Why is she here? She doesn’t know Thorkel’s history, I don’t think she knows about the Seneschal’s scandal. How did she even get a position in the Dragon Quarters? There’s something wrong about her, Jerroth, and I will find out what.”

  No. Please, please stop thinking about me.

  “Arrrgh! I cannot believe Mother banished me here. Jerroth, the moment you bond, get me out of here. Except then I will be stuck in a little mountain—forgive me. Your house is honorable, and—”

  “No, you deserve more,” Jerroth murmured. I could barely hear him. “I just don’t know how.”

  A half sob. “Well, you can’t rise at the Kyer.”

  “I told you—”

  “Yes. Your father’s last wish. But if he knew what the Kyer had become…”

  “I’ll try to find a way.”

  Silence. I began to ease away when I heard Tressa murmur, “Adara.” But there were also sounds of them moving, so I rushed down the hall—someone had, without my noticing, entered the empty prayer room. I hurried instead through the Great Room and to the safety of the hallway.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I returned to my rooms. I’d been a total sheep-brain for not apologizing to Tressa earlier. She had money, she had connections. If anyone could find out the truth of my past, it was Tressa of Blackveil.

  Who now hated me.

  I arrived at my rooms moments before a red-banded messenger knocked. Orrik, acting as Dragonmaster, wanted to speak to me.

  Perfect, I thought as I followed the boy. I can tell him about Tressa, and maybe Orrik will tell me what he and Merram have been hiding from me.

  The steward let me in without delay. Orrik rose from behind Merram’s desk, his meticulous self looking out of place with the semi-chaos surrounding him. “Have a seat.”

  I did. The moment my rump hit wood, I blurted, “Tressa of Blackveil is trying to figure out who I am.”

  Orrik halted mid-sit, then slowly lowered into Merram’s chair. It was the most off-guard I’d ever seen him. “What do you mean?”

  “Tressa and I used to be friends, but I accidentally insulted her.” I grimaced. “Mostly accidentally. I embarrassed her. And now she hates me, and she is determined to ruin my life.”

  Orrik quickly scribbled something on a sheet of paper. “Blackveil, you said? Did you try to make amends?”

  My face heated. “I’ve been busy at the Quarters. I meant to write a letter…”

  “Then I advise you do so as soon as possible.” He scribbled one thing more, then set down the pen. “We covered our tracks very well, but it is always best if there are no suspicions.”

  I nodded, but I’d hoped he’d be more alarmed. I suspected Orrik had no idea of Tressa’s determination.

  “As to why I’ve summoned you…”

  Right. I’d been so worried about Tressa, I’d forgotten that Orrik had been the one to summon me.

  “There is no gentle way to say it. Carthesia occupies the County of Tworivers. The village of Stoneyfield no longer exists.”

  What?

  The blood drained from my face, leaving me prickly and spiraling. “What do you mean, gone?”

  “Our battle mages clashed with Carthesia’s there, and I’m afraid not much remains,” Orrik said. Though his words were gentle, he sounded as if he was reading a report. “In good news, most of the residents evacuated in time. The men were already in the army, of course, so we do not know of their individual situations. The women and children, however, were escorted by dragon on Merram’s direct orders.”

  By dragon. The falling sensation stopped as I grabbed on to the unspoken words in Orrik’s black eyes. Lily, and the women I’d grown up with, they were safe. Evacuated. By Merram’s orders.

  As a thank you to Lily and Garth for raising his child?

  “There is more,” Orrik said. I braced myself. “The Dragonmaster is disappointed with your Gift’s lack of progress. He regrets to inform you that, unless you can cast a spell for Zoland by the end of the week, you will be asked to leave the Kyer.”

  That stunned me almost more than the news of Stoneyfield. “I know we’re to learn fireproofing soon, but bonding—”

  “Adara, you’ve had over a month to figure out what most mages achieve in a day.”

  My protests died on my tongue.

  “We gave you a chance,” Orrik continued, “but we cannot waste the Kyer’s resources any longer.”

  I thought of the Infirmary, of how any mage could have helped Shamino more than I. The Dragonmaster was right. Betrayal stabbed my heart regardless.

  I swallowed the urge to cry. “Shamino said he’d send a letter—”

  “Which he did, via courier, and the Dragonmaster has reviewed. Although Shamino’s requests have merit, and the dragons’ support is touching, the Dragonmaster stands by his decision. As I told the Seneschal this morning.”

  “Shamino knows?” I would not, would not cry. “Where am I to go, then? Stoneyfield is gone. They didn’t want me, anyway. What about Carthesia?”

  “Carthesia has no use for a mage who cannot cast spells.”

  Thorkel’s note and gift of the sapphire said otherwise. The Dragonmaster may have lost faith in me, but his enemy hadn’t.

  “I am sorry, Adara, I am only the messenger,” Orrik said. The severity of his expression softened, and he leaned forward just a little. “It is my personal hope that you will find inspiration in the Dragonmaster’s threat.”

  I’d been around Tressa long enough to sometimes pick up the hidden meaning in nobles’ words. Orrik didn’t agree with Merram’s decision. Last time I had overheard them disagreeing, Orrik had urged Merram to tell me the truth.

  My mouth went dry. “Merram’s disappointed because his daughter turned out to be a failure, isn’t he?”

  Orrik frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “Merram.” I watched Orrik’s face for a sign. Any sign. “He’s my father.”

  Orrik’s eyes, posture, everything firmed into the blank wall I’d known on our journey. “I do not have permission to speak of your parentage.”

  “Which means you know.” I stood and spread my hands. “Orrik, please, tell me. Why does he keep it from me?”

  “I swore an oath.”

  Pigshit. Nobles took oaths very, very seriously. Orrik would die before telling me.

  A knock sounded on the door. The steward from the foyer peeked in. “Orrik, we, ah, have a situation. Regarding the spy.”

  Orrik muttered he’d be back. In seconds, the door shut behind him, leaving me still leaning against the desk.

  I blinked, stunned, though I shouldn’t have been. The person who had left me gifts, they must have betrayed us to Thorkel.

  Do I betray us now by hiding those directions?

  No. I’d already decided handing over the note did no good. I saved dragons’ lives by keeping it a secret.

  But thinking of Thorkel’s letter gave me an idea. What if Merram had written something about me? I circled the desk and started to rummage through its contents. If I got caught… well, Merram was already threatening to take away everything I cared about.

  I scanned page after page for my name, but I had no luck. Not on the desk’s surface, nor in the first drawer, nor in the second. Then, in the bottom drawer, I noticed a crack in the wood. The edges weren’t jagged, like a natural split, but smooth as if handled frequently. Through it, the slightest hint of yellow. I tugged on the board… and found letters.

  Letters written in the same handwriting that had taught me first the alphabet and then my first words, oh so many years ago.

  Mother.

&nb
sp; She grows larger every day, all smiles and laughter. She doesn’t notice the dirt or the blandness of the food. Her wonder at the world heals my pain…

  Longing slammed into me, stronger than it had been with the whiff of her perfume. I remembered her writing. So many nights I’d lain drowsy on our pallet and watched her write by moonlight.

  … I miss you so much. I miss everyone. The people here, they are so good to me, but they can never understand…

  … She asks about her father. What do I tell her? For now I change the subject, but I cannot do that forever…

  There weren’t many letters. All on coarse paper, smudged with dirt, written in an ink that clumped. Never did they say Krysta or Adara or even Merram.

  But there:

  Yesterday, we saw a dragon flying among the clouds. She squealed with delight. I told her, if the First One is kind, she’ll bond with one someday. I shouldn’t have said that; it’s too dangerous, but she is only three and oh! My love, if only you could have seen the joy on her face.

  I had my proof.

  By the time Orrik returned, I sat in my seat as if I’d never left. A scowl covered his face as he handed me a burned scrap of paper. “Do you recognize the handwriting?”

  No amount of smoke could soften that angry, slanted script. It was as recognizable as my mother’s elegant script.

  “I don’t,” I said. The lie slipped easily off my tongue. I had been a Threepines for too long.

  Orrik took the scrap, but not before I made out the words please deliver.

  “Have you received any suspicious packages or notes? Something from an unnamed admirer, perhaps, or something odd from a classmate?”

  Sometimes the best way to avoid a question, I’d learned, was to ask one of my own. I gave Orrik a frown. “What’s going on?”

  “Trainee Anastasi has left the Kyer.”

  Vaguely I noticed he was studying me for a reaction, but my surprise was genuine. “Anastasi? She was the spy?”

  “A spy. We are unsure what information she could have passed on, being only a trainee.”

  Unsure as a tax collector. He knew what a trainee could discover. Anastasi’s attempts at friendship made so much sense now. Someone had put the perfume and sapphire in my room. Now I knew who.

  Orrik still loomed. My hands itched to touch the bulge in my pocket. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Tell me, or Shamino if I am gone, if you ever suspect anyone of aligning with the enemy.”

  “I will.” I said evenly. “If I am here.”

  Orrik paused as he took his seat. “Whatever is blocking your Gift, you will overcome it. You’ve achieved too much to fail now.”

  The sapphire hiding in my wardrobe agreed.

  “My next appointment waits. You are dismissed.”

  I left, taking care to keep the pocket with the letters out of his view, certain he would comment on my odd way of walking. He didn’t. Orrik was already absorbed in some note he was writing. I made it past the nervous young man in the waiting room, and, after that, past the steward. I checked the Time Spheres—I had just enough time to drop off the letters in my apartment before going to the Dragon Quarters. I wished I could plead ill so I could stay and read them, but I dared not, when the depressed dragon might die at any moment. I couldn’t leave Shamino alone to face that.

  Mother’s secrets had waited ten years. They could wait for a few Spheres longer.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was my turn to care for Yuriah, the dragon who’d recently lost her mage. I found her huddled in the corner of the empty, undecorated cave. Her brilliant orange scales had faded to a muted, dried-leaves brown. She breathed, but she barely moved. Her only injury had been her eye, destroyed in the battle. She hadn’t even been treated with the wave of wounded.

  She’s only been bonded for a year, Shamino had told me. I thought maybe she’d pull through, but…

  “It’s chilly,” I commented upon entering her cave, but she didn’t stir. I went to the great double doors, wishing for an air spell. Instead I shoved until sweat coated my back and my lungs heaved. Once the doors opened, sunlight flooded the room and fractured through the large crystals that hung from the ceiling. Rainbows flickered across the cave, but Yuriah had chosen the one corner with neither sunlight nor rainbows.

  “Will you come into the sunlight?” I asked, exhausted and without much hope. “Please?”

  She didn’t move. Dragons ate little during the summer months because they somehow turned energy from the sun into strength. Yuriah was, by staying in darkness, starving herself.

  I busied myself with tasks, shoveling dragon dung and mopping up piss. There wasn’t much of either. I freshened her untouched water and talked the entire time, telling her stories from my childhood. But she never twitched.

  A Sphere formed and the next began. My hour had ended, leaving nothing changed. I told myself that I’d spared Shamino an hour of heartbreak, but it was little consolation. Heart heavy, I began to gather my supplies.

  The human’s door opened. Jerroth, of all people, entered the cave. At the sight of me, he startled. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Do you need something?” I asked. I tried to be Quarters Adara, not paranoid-about-secrets Adara.

  He paused. “Yes and no. I’m petitioning the Dragonmaster for an early bonding. I thought I could meet the dragons.”

  After overhearing his conversation with Tressa this morning, I had expected him to abandon the Kyer. The estate of Katier, while a county, was in the Karpak mountains. An unbonded Tressa could run the estate, but she’d said herself that she would be unhappy away from court. Shouldn’t Jerroth try to find a way into Dragonsridge?

  My curiosity must have shown, because he added, “The sooner I bond, the sooner I can train for aerial combat. I am allowed to be here? Should I make a formal request?”

  Ah. If he distinguishes himself at war, it might earn him a higher title and a mansion within Dragonsridge.

  “Shamino doesn’t…” I trailed off. Shamino hated women wandering around, but they were always trying to flirt with him. “Shamino doesn’t often approve of visitors, but I doubt your request would upset him.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a nod of his head. He turned to Yuriah. “May I introduce…”

  His words died. Yuriah had finally moved. She stared at Jerroth, her black socket giving her a hostile appearance. Everyone would recognize her. She’d lit her mage’s funeral pyre.

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Jerroth said, giving the dragon a deep bow. She didn’t react. His gaze flitted from the pool of sunshine on the floor to her dark corner. “Might I suggest a different course?”

  She curled her lip and faced the wall. I motioned for Jerroth to leave her be, but he shook his head.

  “Instead of dying here, useless, avenge your mage. Kill as many enemies as possible in battle.”

  Yuriah jerked. Life blazed in her single eye; a terrible fury mixed with determination. With slow movements, she dragged herself not just to the sunlight but to the platform. Her wings creaked as she opened them.

  “I can’t believe… That was brilliant,” I murmured. Yuriah would still die, but it had to be a better death. She might even survive long enough to overcome her depression.

  “Dragons make people their purpose,” Jerroth said. “Men without purpose die as well, though they hide their deaths behind hollow lives.”

  Do I have a purpose? Aside from surviving? The visions came to mind and I grimaced. Forget purpose—I had enough to do now. I turned once more to the cleaning supplies and the sack of dragon dung—the Kyer’s farmers liked us to send the dung their way—but Jerroth held up a hand.

  “Allow me,” he said. The bucket, broom, mop, and dung rose into the air.

  All of them. At the same time.

  I’d heard that Jerroth’s Talent was Telekinesis, but I’d never seen anyone handle so many objects so effortlessly. Not even Orrik had juggled so many during his battle against the Carthesi
an.

  I led Jerroth into the hallway and tried to keep from marveling as the objects kept pace with us. Jerroth’s brow was creased with concentration, but he didn’t sweat or breathe heavily. As I watched, the objects blurred—

  Dark chairs float into the air, one and then many, and as they speed toward me a curtain of blue fire shimmers...

  “Are you feeling well?” Jerroth asked.

  I’d stopped walking. I murmured an apology and we continued to the supply room. At my direction, every object floated to its place on a shelf or in a corner.

  “Thank you,” I said. I hesitated. “Especially since Tressa…”

  “I told you to apologize immediately.” Ice-blue eyes studied me, and he shook his head. “I don’t understand you, Threepines. You don’t make any sense.”

  I noticed he didn’t call me Adara anymore. “Is there any way for Tressa to forgive me?”

  He ran his fingers along a shelf, thinking. “Tressa’s history is such that she does not forgive easily.”

  And do you forgive me? For upsetting her? I wondered, not for the first time, why they stayed together. Tressa breathed the Game. Jerroth was Jerroth. He said what he believed, not what others wanted to hear. He thought about others, not to gain advantage but because he was truly a considerate person. He served the Kyer with loyalty, even before bonding.

  “Why are you with her?” I cringed the moment the question escaped. “I’m sorry, that was rude, I just—half of the Kyer admires you and, well…”

  “Tressa’s beautiful, but she has flaws?” he asked. He smiled and shook his head again. “All women have flaws. Tressa is a fantastic match: ancient Blackveil paired with Katier’s money, intricately connected to court, unlikely to become a Dragon Mage. A wife overseeing the estate is always preferable to a steward, you know.”

  My admiration of him went down a notch. I lifted the bag of dragon dung to hide my displeasure. I needed to take it to a platform to be flown away.