Blue Fire Read online

  Raul smiled again. This time I barely trembled.

  “I’m impressed,” Shamino murmured. I felt him studying me anew. “I’ve seen men faint at their first encounter with a dragon.”

  “Oh, part of me wants to do that,” I said with a shaky laugh. “But the rest of me… Well, I want to be a Dragon Mage.”

  I’d never said it aloud. The words rang true in my heart: Dragon Mage. I’d gone with Orrik because I’d been scared, and I’d come to the Kyer because I wasn’t sheep-brained. Someone wanted to hand me a life? Sure. But looking at Raul, something changed deep in my heart.

  Grinning like a fluffhead at the dragon, I added, “Besides, if I fainted, I couldn’t stare at you.”

  Raul’s smile grew and this time his wicked teeth looked charming. He made a painfully slow gesture to the cluster of human-size cushions nearby. I sank into an orange one, while Shamino took a light red. There were more, spring green and lemon yellow, and a small table for each. Raul himself curled in the open area before us. There was still enough space for another curled dragon.

  Both of them watched as I took in the cave. The massiveness itself boggled my mind; not only was there the visiting area, but a pile of rocks in the corner somewhat resembled a dragon-length bed. Like a human, Raul had broken up the grayness of the walls with huge paintings and tapestries: grand ladies glittering in jewels, colorfully clad children playing ball, two red-robed mages casting Fire and Lightning, and—

  “Commoners?” I pointed to a painting of men and women harvesting wheat.

  “I had that commissioned for Raul last year as a gift,” Shamino said. “He finds all humans fascinating. Most dragons do.”

  At the end of the cavern, two enormous double doors opened to an outside platform for the dragon to land on. Sunlight—real light—bathed the cave golden. On the opposite mountain, dragons snoozed in the sunset, and in the valley a still lake reflected the pink-and-gold clouds above the peaks.

  “I haven’t seen the outside since…” I swallowed. Hard. Maybe it was my imagination, but I could smell the green trees. A surge of homesickness hit me in the worst way. I’d never liked farming, but I’d always liked sunshine. I liked color. I loved the wind.

  Just then, Raul moved.

  His movement wasn’t large. It wasn’t threatening. He only twisted to look outside. Yet as he turned, another dragon formed:

  The blood-red dragon snaps open his wings for flight. Hate radiates off him like heat. He will kill today; he will enjoy the deaths. Powerful wing-thrusts propel him upward into the sky, and upon his back sits a man in tan clothing. If they reach their destination...

  Vaguely, I knew I had stood. And fallen. And screamed. But Raul’s cave didn’t become reality until the fire began.

  Blue fire consumed the yellow cushion in front of Raul. Gift poured out of me, rushing everywhere, and instinctively I clamped down. Blue flashed orange and the cushion began to burn with regular fire.

  “Adara!” Shamino cried. “You’re fine! Raul’s not going to hurt you.”

  I shook. The dragon and his rider, they were going to do something terrible. They were going to kill—I gulped air, because the vision wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. I was here, safe…

  “Shh.” Arms tightened around me. “That’s it.”

  “It wasn’t Raul,” I choked out. My voice was hoarse.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t see them?” I turned my head—concerned green eyes were inches away. I had indeed fallen, and Shamino cradled me in his arms. “First One, I… I’m so sorry.”

  Shamino held tight. “Not yet. You’re still shaking.”

  Deep breath, came Orrik’s voice in my mind. Picture a place calm and familiar…

  Meditation. For controlling my Gift. I’d always pictured the pasture, but it hurt to see my old home. From Shamino’s arms I caught the glint of the Kyer’s lake. Calm water, calm reflections. Sleeping dragons on the mountainside. Green trees, the scent of life. Sunset had muted to the pink of twilight. My muscles relaxed and my breathing slowed. My heart, however, beat harder as I grew increasingly aware of Shamino’s chest against my shoulder. His arms, like a lover’s, firm around me.

  “I’m fine now,” I said. I soon wouldn’t be if he kept holding me.

  Shamino helped me to my feet. “Raul shouldn’t have—”

  “I told you, it wasn’t Raul.” The heat from Shamino’s arms seeped away, leaving me chill from their absence. “It was—I’m not sure, but I think it was a… vision. Is that a Talent?”

  A Talent sounded much better than crazy.

  “Vision?” Shamino looked me up and down as if he expected me to fall over again. “What did you see?”

  “A dragon.” I hugged myself tightly, wishing he’d hold me again and whisper that visions were just part of being a mage. “Um, the dragon, he was as red as blood, and he just had so much hate. He wanted to kill and he was flying and, First One, I’m babbling.”

  “There are no dragons like that here,” Shamino said, words slow. “Has this happened before?”

  I nodded rather than babble again. How many times, now? Twice? At the Carthesian’s attack, there’d been the black mage throwing chairs. And the other vision had been worse. As I burned Garth’s hut, I’d seen myself bathed in blue fire, sobbing as I held a man. The man had been dying, and I’d been helpless.

  Back in the sane world, I caught sight of the smoking remains of the yellow cushion. “Oh, no.”

  Raul stayed a statue. Shamino waved at the seat. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I should go.” I turned to flee.

  To my annoyance—and stupid thrill—Shamino grabbed my elbow. “You’re new to the Gift. It’s common to lose control at first. You don’t need to leave. Have some wine, or water. At least calm down further.”

  I couldn’t be calm. Not with Shamino in the same room. I pulled away and made for the door. “Thank you, really, but I should leave.”

  I made it out of Raul’s cave and into Shamino’s living room. Tears, hot and embarrassed, dripped down my cheeks. I’d had a crazy fit in front of the Seneschal, one of the most important people in my new life, who had a smile like…

  First One above, Adara, a chicken has more control over its silliness than you.

  I’d made Shamino yell at Raul, who only wanted to make me feel welcome, and I’d lost control of my magic, magic that had just failed to work with Zoland. How broken could I be?

  Two steps from the hallway, an arm blocked my escape. “Hey. Look at me.”

  I didn’t want to see Shamino’s judgment, or contempt, or pity. I wanted to shove past that nicely muscled arm and never see him again. But he was a noble, the Seneschal. Most of my life, I’d obeyed commands spoken like his.

  I blinked back my tears and raised my chin.

  All I saw was concern. Shamino said, with grave seriousness, “You did well. Honest. I don’t know what your vision means, or why it happened, but I have seen countless people meet their first dragon. It’s rare to see wonder stronger than fear.”

  “I…” Shamino seemed to need some type of squeak that I wouldn’t, in fact, curl up and die once I reached my rooms. “Tell Raul I am sorry. I’ll do better. Next time.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “There better be a next time.”

  His arm dropped, and I fled.

  Chapter Six

  After the most embarrassing moment of my life, I began my other lessons with minimal trouble. My tutors thought me neglected, maybe a bit stupid, but that was better than crazy. I met with Zoland for the second time, and I failed to make Light in front of my face, or my chest, or anywhere.

  Zoland’s response? He promised to investigate my “unusual condition.” He seemed almost gleeful at the prospect of not knowing something.

  Then I received a summons. To the Dragon Quarters. Enough trainees had arrived to begin another Kyer class.

  Get control of yourself, Adara, I told myself over and over as I walked
to Mountain Four. I wiped my palms on my nice-but-not-too-nice black breeches. It had taken forever to dress, and that irked me. My clothes never mattered before. Of course, I never had a choice in what I wore before. But still. If I saw Shamino—

  The thought of him brought up his warm smile, his strong arms wrapped around my body… Heat of every kind flooded me.

  Stop it. You can’t avoid him, not if you wish to bond, so don’t embarrass him by acting like a stupid cow.

  Besides, Shamino was a noble. Despite what I told people, I was not Adara of Threepines.

  The reminder didn’t help my nerves. Not when I was about to meet trainees who’d grown up with magic and money and sofas.

  By the time I pushed open the door to the Dragon Quarters, my hands shook with anxiety. The foyer was empty—no. A girl sat in the corner, quiet and still. Pale hair, pale skin, almost washed-out green eyes. She had to be a trainee, but the way she sat made her look much younger than sixteen.

  We stared at each other. The silence flustered my insides even more. My few etiquette lessons muddled with everything else I was trying to memorize, and I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to be the one to start talking? Finally, I blurted, “Are you in the class? For trainees?”

  “Yes,” she answered. Her voice, pale as the rest of her. “I forgot my summons, so I fear I do not know the room.”

  “Fourth door on the right. I memorized it before I came.” I cringed. That sounded rude and haughty. Or perhaps I sounded perfectly normal and I was overreacting.

  “Ah.” The girl stood and bobbed a curtsy despite wearing breeches. “I’m Paige.”

  She didn’t say her house name. Which made sense at the Kyer, for dragons disliked houses. I tried to curtsy-bob like she had. I nearly fell over. “Um, I’m Adara. Walk with me to class?”

  Paige half nodded, half bobbed again. In awkward silence we went down the hallway. I wanted to say something, anything, but I hadn’t learned how nobles started conversations. Certainly they didn’t chat about the rain and harvest.

  We reached the fourth door. Closed. Paige raised her hand as if to knock, dropped it, tilted her head. A pink tinge crept across her cheekbones.

  My uncertainty melted like butter. I was bound to make a mistake sooner or later. I could make one for her. I opened the door and went inside.

  The classroom was, of course, stone, but a colorful weaving of Drageria took up an entire wall. Another wall had been painted black. Simple but solid wooden tables with two chairs each sat in rows. As Paige and I entered, a young man stood from his seat at the front of the room.

  By all the—are all noble boys handsome? The stranger didn’t make me as giddy-stupid as Shamino had, but I was still struck. Short, raven-dark hair contrasted sharply with his light skin. He had a strong jawline, ice-blue eyes. Tall.

  Paige had halted as if she’d run into a wall. A deep flush made her skin go blotchy.

  “Ladies,” the young man said in a voice so smooth I did get flutters. “Jerroth of Katier, at your service.”

  He gave us a deep bow. Paige continued to blotch. She shot me a panicked glance. I stepped forward, my thoughts racing the entire time. Katier. Katier. Karpak mountains… a county! Three ranks above baronet.

  “Adara of Threepines,” I murmured as I performed what I hoped was a deep enough bob; I wasn’t going to try the curtsy-without-a-skirt thing Paige had pulled off earlier. Jerroth reached out, and I winced as my ugly farmer’s fingers slipped into his. Soft lips brushed my knuckles.

  Jerroth released my hand, and Paige managed to squeak she was of Westwood. I hadn’t learned Westwood yet. Jerroth kissed her hand and she blushed even deeper, but he gave no sign of noticing.

  Other students trickled in. All the girls had more grace than I and more self-possession than Paige. To my relief, the boys were not all deathly handsome. A few were even as tanned as I. I fumbled through each introduction regardless, my thoughts buzzing into a headache. A brunette—Anastasi?—kept giving me curious glances.

  I can’t do this. My hands have calluses, the way I talk is wrong—they’ll know before class ends.

  “Ahem,” came a smooth voice from the doorway.

  I turned to look at the young woman, and every ounce of confidence I’d ever had crumbled to dust.

  Her creamy skin made me feel as if I’d bathed in dirt. Artfully braided hair of pure gold wound upon her head, whereas my nut-brown curls hung loose and likely frizzed. Her crimson gown plunged to show off her curves.

  The woman gave the room a serene smile, and every boy stood straighter.

  Jerroth wove through the stunned room to give the newcomer a deep bow, offering his hand. As she slipped hers into his, he murmured, “Tressa of Blackveil, tales of your beauty do you no justice.”

  “You know who I am!” the blonde exclaimed, bringing her free hand to her chest. “Alas, you have me at a disadvantage.”

  “Your humble servant, Jerroth of Katier.” He gave her hand the sincerest kiss I’d ever seen. Jealousy from the rest of the room crackled in the air.

  It didn’t crackle around Paige. She had gone corpse-pale at Tressa’s entrance. In fact, Paige stared at Tressa as if the beautiful girl were a snake about to strike.

  “May I present you to your classmates?” Jerroth took her arm and made his way around the room. Standing together, they were perfection.

  I will never, ever be her. Tressa’s every word and gesture was pure beauty. I knew of Blackveil—my first heraldry lesson had started with Those Most Important. Blackveil was only a viscounty, but of long bloodlines, immense wealth, and a habit of marrying into the royal family. Tressa was practically a princess.

  Yet, why is she at the Kyer instead of Dragonsridge? My heraldry tutor had mentioned that Those Most Important hated losing children to dragons. Even if Tressa was a younger sibling, she could marry at court. With her beauty, she could marry anyone.

  The couple came to me and Jerroth did introductions. I decided the less I spoke, the better.

  Tressa smiled with delight. “A Threepines! Goodness. How many of you are there now? And to leave your estate—you’re quite the rebel in the family, aren’t you?”

  Is she insulting me or praising me? I smiled back and shrugged.

  And it was over. Jerroth escorted Tressa to Paige, the last person in the room. Tressa took a step past the timid girl. Jerroth was left standing, a frown making his blue eyes a bit icier.

  Tressa patted the table at the front of the room. “Please, Jerroth, our instructor has arrived.”

  Please, please, please don’t be him.

  It wasn’t Shamino. The elderly woman I’d met before, the one with the severe bun and straight back, strode into the room. I took the nearest seat, and Paige took the one beside me.

  The instructor surveyed the room as everyone settled. She wore the Kyer uniform—tight black with silver and green trim. Her mouth, a mere line. “I count fifteen of you. Let’s begin.”

  She removed a slim rod of white from her pocket and scribbled Dragon Mage Sylvia on the black wall. “My name is Sylvia. To everyone at the Kyer, I have no house, I have no title. I exchanged them for my dragon. This is your first lesson. If you wish to be a Dragon Mage, your former identity is gone.”

  Murmurs. A blond boy raised his hand. “I was assured that if I joined the Kyer, I’d still inherit.”

  “True. You’ll inherit,” Sylvia said, “but you are only ‘lord’ while on your personal lands, conducting personal business. Those times will be few. While at the Kyer, or while at Dragonsridge on Kyer business, you are a Dragon Mage and will be addressed as such.”

  The feel of the room thickened.

  “My job is to teach you what you need to succeed at the Kyer.” Sylvia scribbled Dragon on the wall and encircled it. “Everything centers on them. We live in these particular mountains because the dragons like sulfur springs. We train in the winter and patrol in the summer because of the dragons’ natural energy levels. Most of all, we strive to
adhere to the dragons’ expectations for our social interactions.” She consulted a slip of paper from her pocket. “Devon. Name the most powerful man at the Kyer and why.”

  Without hesitation, a boy near the back answered. “The Dragonmaster. He’s the most powerful mage.”

  “Right and wrong.” In hard letters she wrote Dragonmaster Merram and, off to the side, Orrik. She crossed out Orrik’s name. “Orrik is the strongest mage at the Kyer. Merram’s Gift is mid-range black. His family, lowborn. However, Merram inspires those he meets and deals fair justice. The Council of Elder Dragons felt Merram was the type of leader we needed after the assassination of the previous Dragonmaster.”

  I jolted in my seat. Orrik hadn’t mentioned assassination. I noticed Paige eying me, so I brushed my leg as if it had a bug or a spider on it. Inside, though, the news bothered me. Someone had killed a man surrounded by dragons? Maybe not. The Dragonmaster could have been somewhere else at the time. I hoped so, with Carthesia wanting me.

  Sylvia consulted her paper. “Anastasi, who is next in power?”

  The brunette who had been watching me during introductions spoke up. “Seneschal Ramiel.”

  “Right and wrong again. Ramiel retired.” Sylvia wrote Seneschal Shamino beneath the Dragonmaster.

  “You’re kidding,” Tressa said in a whisper loud enough for all of us to hear. Sylvia turned from the board and raised an eyebrow. “Shamino of—he’s only nineteen.”

  “He is,” Sylvia said as if commenting on the weather. I began to suspect she enjoyed shocking her students. “He is also the strongest dragon healer in centuries. The dragons chose him—unanimously—for his healing ability and his devotion.”

  The rest of the room seemed as bewildered as Tressa—except Paige, who hid the faintest of smiles with her hand.

  Tressa tried again. “But he’s disinherited. In disgrace! The court—”

  “Is not here,” Sylvia finished.

  Jerroth raised a finger. “I believe Lady Tressa—”