Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Z , the others are talking. Are you coming down to dinner?"

A year later, my quill hovered over the parchment, a blot of ink dripping from the edge to mar my pristine paper on my small desk. Vession had moved into grander chambers last year with a promotion, and had given me his old, cramped ones. It was better than the dormitory, which was now occupied by the latest reaping.

This was preferable, and though the other boys shot me hateful looks, I also no longer kept them up in the middle of the night with my candles and quill scratches.

I turned and shot M a glare. He knew I hated being interrupted, and he knew I hated being called ‘Z'. Though I'd broken him of many of his ‘mud boy' habits, shortening my name to simply my first letter was not something I had succeeded with.

"Now, I must start over. You know I complete all my work before the evening meal. If I haven't completed it in time, then that is my fault. Do not let me hold you up. Use it as an opportunity to listen."

M rolled his eyes, used to my little games and machinations. If I wasn't at dinner, the other boys were sure to talk about me. M would eat it up along with his chicken and potatoes, reporting back to me on alliances and tensions. I always liked to keep up to date with things, after all.

He quietly slipped away, knowing there was no use arguing with me. When I set my course to something, that was what it was.

Now eighteen, I was only months away from receiving my final placement among the ranks of the Nobles; possibly sooner if I could fully prove my worth. If deemed worthy, I would find an honored place among the scribes, and maybe even given the honor of a wife.

If I decided that was something I wanted.

That was why my work came first, and would always come first. It was above friendships, food, and sleep. It was everything.

Vession thought the subject of blood magick a dead end, but he also knew I was relentless. If there was anything to be gained from researching into how to harness the fledging magick around us, I would be the one to do it. And once I did, I would be unstoppable. I would continue to bide my time, hone my craft, and when the moment was right, I would strike.

I bent back down to my parchment, frowning over the sigils and shapes. The top circle wasn't entirely symmetrical. That was throwing the entire design off, especially with the fresh blot on it.

I crumpled up the parchment and started over.

* * *

Hours later, darkness had fallen, but I was finally satisfied with the design. My stomach growled, and reluctantly I set the drawing down and covered it with a bit of sand to set the ink.

Time for food.

Who needed to eat with the other hogs at the trough when there was a perfectly functional kitchen in this palace?

All for a few kisses. Clover was quite useful, and a delightful distraction.

Women were confusing. Most were weak and pliable and easy to manipulate; like my mother. Loving them was a weakness. The queen was different.

She was terrifying. Strong. Dangerous. I hadn't run into her in a year.

That was probably for the best.

After securing a sandwich for myself from the kitchens, I'd almost made it back to our wing when I rounded a corner next to an open window. It was pure luck that someone was already standing right underneath it, gazing out at the massive dome that protected our kingdom from the dragon.

"I'm sorr—"

I shut my mouth, staring stupidly at the queen as I clutched my sandwich to my chest. I'd run straight into the queen, alone and without her guards. The queen went nowhere without her guards. Or so I thought.

For a moment, we simply stared at each other, two dark figures caught trespassing in the night.

"Interesting," she finally said. "You look very much like him. Though that is to be expected."

She had to be talking about my father; the king.

I stuck my chin out, deciding it was a compliment.

She snorted, and we existed together as the silence stretched between us.

The urge to do … something was incredibly strong, and she knew it. I could tell by the superior tilt of her lips, and the lazy lowering of the hoods of her eyes. She was a queen, and I was nothing more than a bug under her heavily jeweled foot.

But there was something else. I'd felt it all those years ago in the throne room, only I hadn't known what it was. After years of study, it was unmistakable.

Magick.

The queen reeked of it.

Dark, oppressive, and heavy.

Magick clung to her like the diamonds on her dress. It was tangy and smoky, and with a jolt I realized I had unconsciously leaned toward it, and her.

The queen jerked back, smugness giving way to a wary indifference. "You do not know what you're playing with, boy ."

I licked my lips. "Show me."

Her head tilted to the side, like an animal's, or more specifically, a predator.

"Your mother hid you away your entire life until you were reaped. You think you know about the world from your time away squirreled in the archives and reading every book your grubby little hands can grab. But what do you actually know about the world you live in?"

I wasn't afraid of blunt honesty.

"More every day," I replied brusquely.

One pale eyebrow lifted.

"I know there is a dragon," I continued. "I have heard him and seen him. But I didn't have to; I can feel him as well. Much like I can feel you."

It was a risk, being so forward with her. My feelings were confused and hazy. The magick was like a drug calling out to me, and I couldn't resist. I was ready for a slap, for her to hit me, or even for her to call for the Fireguards to hit me for her.

Instead, she took a large step back, unnerved.

"You feel it in me?" she asked dumbly, expression flattening out.

"The magick," I rushed to explain quickly, eager now that I had an audience, even if it was one I hated. "It's everywhere around me, but I feel it more strongly in different places. Obviously, I see it in the dragon, but it's also strong in you. All I wish to do is study magick, and understand it."

Something shimmered in her eyes for a moment, but it was gone quickly, replaced by cold indifference. "Be careful what you discover, you little rat. Study something useful instead. Otherwise, you might meet the dragon sooner rather than later."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and twirled her dress, disappearing around the corner with a swish of her skirts.

When I killed her, it would be slow and painful.

I turned and stared out the window, wondering what she'd been looking at.

Ah, there it was.

The dragon sat perched just above the window, glaring down, only its silhouette visible as it sat on the dome above me. It seemed to get a little bigger every year. Or perhaps that was just my imagination.

I raised my hand in a small wave.

Its head tilted to the side, much like the queen's had.

With a roar and a huff, it jumped off the dome and flew away.

Too much excitement for one night, that was for sure, though highly informative. I had new things to research, and deeper mysteries to unravel.

I thought of the ritual drawing sitting on my desk and sighed. It would have to be tabled for now.

Something much sinister was brewing.

* * *

"Z! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

M burst into the archives loudly, running by my table so fast I had to slap a hand down on my parchments, lest they fly away in his frenzied air current like dust in the wind.

"What?" I bit shortly at him, irritated at the interruption. The article I was reading was difficult to decipher and in the old language. If I lost concentration now, I'd have to start over from the beginning of the manuscript to make everything—

"Pergainsa berry pie today!"

My quill twitched in my fingertips, and I almost dropped it. There were very few people I tempered my irritation toward. While M was usually one of them, right now I was having trouble finding a reason.

"You interrupted my studies for pie?" Derision dripped from my voice.

As usual, he ignored the tone that would have had the other boys scattering like frightened birds.

"You like pergainsa pie," he insisted stubbornly and succinctly.

Well, he had me there. The berry didn't grow naturally in this environment, and had to be grown painstakingly in a special greenhouse deep within the palace. There weren't a lot available, so when they were, I always got some for myself.

And M knew that.

"Fine. I like pergainsa pie," I grumbled back at him, stacking my notes and tucking everything away neatly. Just like my room back in the dormitories, this table in the archives was mine.

Sighing, I glanced toward the large, glass windows overlooking the artists' quarter. I'd never been outside the walls of the palace and had never felt much of a need to. Though as my rituals grew, I might have to venture outside to find a more appropriate space in which to perform them.

Glass windows made little sense with a raging dragon on the loose, though my research had uncovered a little known fact: the massive dome and walls that protected the kingdom weren't built because of the dragon. They were built to keep other kingdoms from coming in .

The manuscripts had said so, and the dates of the construction predated any mentions of a dragon.

So why build it, then? I hadn't figured that part out yet, but I had massive tomes of old records I hadn't even brushed the dust off yet.

It would take decades to unearth all the kingdom's secrets.

"Coming? You know B will make himself sick eating it all just to piss you off."

I snorted, turning back toward M and standing. My joints popped as I stretched, hours of being hunched over my desk making themselves known in every ache and pulled muscle.

"Fire above! Is that the dragon?"

The awe in M's voice reminded me that most people weren't allowed in the archives, let alone lay eyes on the dragon, ever. The dome kept it out of sight of most people, but there were minimal spots in the palace where you could spot it, since the palace was on the edge of the dome and had a few turrets that stuck out, not completely covered. The Fireguards let M pass into the archives as he wanted because of me.

And the archives were one of those spots with a perfect view of the dragon. Though, it was sometimes unnerving having nothing but glass between hundreds of years of documents and a fire-breathing lizard.

Said reptile in question was back, from wherever he'd gone. He plopped down on a stone parapet just across from our window, glaring directly at me.

"Wow … mean looking thing," M commented, licking his lips nervously.

Was it just me, or did that dragon's face contort a bit when M said that. It was as if he could hear us and he didn't like what he'd heard?

"Let's just go," I proposed, not liking the glare the dragon was leveling my way. I seemed to run into it more than most people, but this was the first time I sensed pure antagonism from it.

"Hold on. I never get to see the thing. Wicked beast."

M pressed himself flat against the glass, squishing his face to get as close to the dragon as possible.

The dragon's muscles rippled, golden scales flashing as it stretched and jumped on top of the archive roof. The building shook slightly, then went still.

I tried to quell my irritation as M showed no signs of budging.

"M, I don't think—"

"Ah!"

We both jump back as the dragon stuck his head down over the window to peer in at us, only inches of glass separating us. This close, every detail of his body lay bare before us. Golden scales glinted and flashed into the waning sun of late afternoon. Bright white fangs tapered to a deadly sliver, and tufted ears twitched and continuously turned this way and that, even though his attention was clearly on us.

And those eyes.

Gold with a slitted, black pupil that stared at me in direct challenge.

I couldn't help but lean against the glass like M, my palms flat as if I could reach out and touch a scale if I tried hard enough.

My skin itched as I thought of my first ritual. Small golden lines appeared across the skin on my hands and in between my fingers. M was too enthralled with the dragon to notice how I glowed.

Would my magick work if the dragon attacked? Only normal glass separated us; not dragonsbane like the dome was made of. It seemed extremely perilous and risky. I'd have to ask Vession why we didn't protect the archives with more dragonsbane.

The ritual I'd done (in theory) would give me some protection from heat and fire. It would take me many more stages to become completely resistant, of course, but it seemed practical to work on this set first when you lived in a kingdom haunted by a dragon.

Especially a dragon that didn't seem to like me.

The dragon's eyes narrowed, and it growled, smoke and glowing embers tumbling from its nostrils.

"M. We need to back away. Come on."

I was curious how my ritual would hold up, but even I was stupid enough to think it would keep me alive after taking a full shot of dragon fire to the face.

"Just a little longer. I—"

It happened in slow motion, yet had to have taken only a few seconds. The dragon reared its head back a few inches, and I immediately knew what would happen next. I grabbed M and dove to the side of the window, throwing myself on top of him.

The glass shattered as agonizing heat flooded the archives. I screamed in both pain and fear, praying to whatever gods existed that the glass stopped the flames and none of the books or manuscripts got damaged.

My flesh would heal, the books would not.

My skin blistered and cracked, white-hot pain lancing through my body and tensing every muscle in my body. I tried to relax into the pain and accept it, even as M writhed and screamed under me.

And then it was quiet.

So, so quiet.

The only sounds were M's sobs under me and my own ragged breathing. I couldn't move. Everything hurt . The sound of paper burning jolted me into action more than the danger of being around for a second blast.

But I was alive.

"Z. Let me up. Z. Please."

I tried. My body was burned into the protective position over M. Trying to move only brought more pain.

"M, don't. It hurts. Let someone help—"

My words ended in a ragged scream as M pried my arms open and pushed off my body to free himself. My breaths came in choked gasps, the only thing I could force my brain to focus on beside the overwhelming white-hot pain.

In. Out. In. Out.

I collapsed back to the ground, unable to move my limbs from where they fell. I was too scared to look at myself. Too afraid to see the damage.

Footsteps pounded away, cracking glass on the floor and kicking up small bits towards my face.

At least one of us could go for help. It would be ok. It would be fine.

I was so thankful I had spent years cultivating an alliance with M. It would serve me well now, as M ran to get help. They'd take me to the infirmary, the primas would drug me up, and all this could become a bad dream …

It was quiet again.

Tears would have leaked from my eyes if they could, but it felt like every spare drop of moisture in my body was gone. The glass window was an open sore as hot wind seeped through the hole and rustled every loose piece of parchment in the archives. The crackling of flames grew closer and closer.

"Hello? Is someone in there? Zephyr?'

Zephyr… no one called me Zephyr except for Vession , and that wasn't his voice.

Polished sandals came into my field of vision, and I closed my eyes in relief. M had run out to get me help. The Fireguards were here!

"L?" I croaked out, finally recognizing this Fireguard.

His jaw dropped when he saw the open window.

"Oh gods. The dragon—"

"Yes," I managed.

L put a hand in his hair, breathing out and closing his eyes. When he opened them, it was with steely determination.

"All right. Give me a minute to fetch help. It won't take long."

That was fine by me. He could take as long as wanted—I was going to pass out and take a nap.

So I did.