Now, Shulina Arya lay off to one side while Rysha, her father, aunt, and Krey walked down the path that had once meandered past the vineyard to a pergola, benches, and a fountain. The stone fountain was blackened but still standing. Only ashes remained where the wood structures had been. Rysha blinked back tears, remembering roughhousing with her brothers under the pergola and playing cards with her grandfather before he’d passed.
Only a handful of vines in the back corner had escaped the fire. Aware of how many years her brother, and their grandfather before him, had spent creating unique and desirable cultivars, Rysha hoped some could be saved and replanted.
“It could have been worse,” Father said, looking toward the manor and the lake.
Krey gave him an anguished look.
“At least we all survived this time,” Father said.
“I know,” Krey said, “but there’ll be so much extra work to do to replant. And there won’t be a harvest for years, not for the grapes or the apples and pears that the other dragon took out. It’ll take a long time for the vines and trees to regrow and bear fruit again.”
As Rysha listened to the growing argument, she looked toward Shulina Arya and also toward the sky. The valley was quiet, but she had no idea what was going on in the capital. Now that the fires were out and she’d verified that her family had survived, she needed to report in.
“Shulina Arya?” she asked, heading toward the dragon. She looked tired, her tail wrapped around her supine form. Rysha hated to ask her to take her on another flight.
Yes, Storyteller. I am ready to do battle again, if need be, but I believe it has ended.
“Oh? Can you sense the city from down here?”
I can sense other dragons. There were many in the city earlier. Now, I sense only Bhrava Saruth and Phelistoth.
“Does she talk back to you?” Aunt Tadelay asked from the shadows along the path.
Rysha jumped. She hadn’t realized her aunt hadn’t gone back to the manor. She noted with some bemusement that Tadelay still had a rifle. The butt rested on the ground, and she didn’t look like she intended to fire on the dragon. Shulina Arya certainly didn’t appear concerned. She rested her chin on her tail and gazed at Rysha and the valley behind her.
“Yes, telepathically.”
Aunt Tadelay arched a skeptical eyebrow. Then the other eyebrow flew up and her gaze jerked toward Shulina Arya.
“What did she say to you?” Rysha asked dryly.
Tadelay hesitated, her lips turned down. “That rifles are ineffective weapons for defending young ladies from dragons.”
“Is that what you came over here to do?”
“It crossed my mind, but it doesn’t seem very…” Tadelay spread a hand toward the resting dragon. “It’s not what I expected.”
“Shulina Arya is a she, the only female I’m aware of that likes humans.”
“To eat?”
“No, but she does like our food. Sardelle makes tarts for the dragons, and I understand there are regular orders from Donotono's Bakery in the capital. I just tell her stories. She seems to like those almost as much as food. Did you see the other gold dragon that flew past? He likes humans, too, though he believes they should worship him. And give him belly rubs. Sometimes, he turns into a ferret to encourage that.” Rysha realized she was babbling, but she wanted her family to understand that not all dragons were a threat. And that Shulina Arya was the reason that the silver dragon wouldn’t bother them again.
Aunt Tadelay scratched her head, not seeming to notice when she pushed her hat askew. “When your mother and I came to the capital, we truly believed you needed to be saved from…” She extended her hand toward Shulina Arya again, who flopped over on her side and either stretched her jaw or yawned. It might have been both. Fortunately, she didn’t look threatening in that position, even with her fangs on display. Her tongue lolled out, and Rysha smiled, remembering the jawbreaker incident. “Dragons,” Aunt Tadelay finished.
“Just some dragons. But with Shulina Arya’s help, along with this sword, which has an affinity for slaying dragons—” Rysha touched the hilt but didn’t draw Dorfindral, lest he get overly excited by Shulina Arya’s proximity, “—I can defeat them. Granted, Shulina Arya does a lot more than I do, but together, we’re a good team. And the country needs someone who can defeat enemy dragons right now.”
Aunt Tadelay shifted her gaze toward the smoldering vineyard and then toward the front of the house, where the gas lamps illuminated the dead silver. Rysha wondered whose responsibility it would be to move the body. And where did one put a dead dragon, anyway? If her uncle Sabber had been here, he might have offered to taxidermy the head for his hunting lodge.
After a long moment of consideration, Aunt Tadelay looked back to Rysha, eyeing her up and down. Rysha felt rumpled after multiple battles and a full day of travel, but she stood up straight, hoping her uniform wasn’t too mud-spattered and wrinkled.
“I’m beginning to see that,” Aunt Tadelay allowed.
“Trip helped, too, though it would have been harder for you to tell he was doing something. Every time the silver dragon smashed into an invisible obstacle, that was Trip’s work.”
“He’s… a sorcerer, then? It’s true? I thought your brothers were gossiping.”
“He’s half dragon. It’s a very long story, but I love him, and he’s good to me. He made me a fancy display case to hold my elite troops initiation medallion and the awards he’s sure I’m going to earn in the army.”
“You’re truly determined to have a career in the military?” Aunt Tadelay didn’t seem that comfortable talking about Trip and latched onto that.
Rysha didn’t push. This already seemed like progress, that her aunt had seen what Shulina Arya was capable of, and had also seen what Rysha was capable of.
“Yes, Aunt. And speaking of that, we need to get back to the city. Dragons are causing trouble up there too.”
“It’s a daily event anymore. I wish something could be done.”
“We’re working on it. We’ll find a way to protect Iskandia’s borders. Just give the king and the military time.”
Aunt Tadelay took a deep breath. “I shall find it encouraging that your brain is helping with the problem.”
Rysha didn’t think her brain had been that useful of late, but she didn’t object to the statement. Someone in her family seemed to finally be coming around to her side.
Since Father and Krey were still arguing about vines, Rysha decided to leave her parting words for Aunt Tadelay. “Be very careful if Lord Lockvale comes around again. Trip questioned him while we were chasing the silver. It was, uhm, telepathic questioning, so he doesn’t have any evidence, but he found out that Lockvale conspired with that silver dragon, that they were plotting to get Father to sell the family estate cheaply.”
Rysha watched her aunt warily, immediately wishing she hadn’t said anything about telepathy. Even if the secret was out about Trip’s magical powers, she doubted her family would find actual proof of those powers any less creepy than his Wolf Squadron comrades did.
“Lockvale,” Aunt Tadelay snarled, not commenting on telepathy or creepiness. “I knew that’s what he’s been doing. We all knew. He’s not the subtle genius he thinks he is. Fool. I even suspected he was aligned with that dragon. It was all too convenient otherwise.”
Rysha nodded, glad she wouldn’t have to convince her family Lockvale was trouble. She knew her parents were smart, despite their lack of support for her military career, and hadn’t truly believed they would be taken in, but she appreciated this reassurance.
“Just keep an eye out. If you or Mother or Father or anyone needs anything, or sees anyone else suspicious, get word to me as soon as possible, and I’ll come down and be a rabid guard dog for the property. We’ll come down.” Rysha pointed at Shulina Arya, even though the dragon’s eyes had closed, and her breathing was deep and even, so she didn’t have much of a guard dog mien. “We can get here quickly.”
&nb
sp; She worried her aunt might scoff, despite what she’d seen tonight, but instead, she nodded solemnly, stepped forward, and gave Rysha a hug. The muzzle of her rifle clunked the back of Rysha’s head, and she was fairly sure Dorfindral’s hilt poked her aunt in the ribs, but it was a hug, nonetheless. A hug between women who would do what was necessary to protect the family.
“Father, I need to go,” Rysha called when they broke apart. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
He looked over, frowning, and opened his mouth as if he would protest, but Aunt Tadelay shook her head. Father closed his mouth. He hesitated, then lifted his hand in farewell.
“Shulina Arya?” Rysha rested a hand on the dragon’s side, hoping she would rouse easily. She hadn’t seen her sleeping before and didn’t even know where the dragon bedded down for the night. All Rysha knew was that she objected to stables. “We need to go back to the city and see if they need help.”
One violet eye opened. Tarts? Her voice sounded sleepy, and Rysha regretted that she couldn’t leave the dragon snoozing. It had been a long day.
“Uhm, maybe afterward. We can check.” Rysha doubted baking tarts had been Sardelle’s priority today if dragons had been attacking the city.
Shulina Arya did the telepathic equivalent of mumbling something incoherent—or maybe it was coherent in dragon?—and rolled onto her stomach so Rysha could climb onto her back. The illumination spheres she had created faded, and Father and Krey headed for the house. The shadows hid the destroyed vineyard, but Rysha remembered the image all too well, the charred remains of the vines near the black skeletons of trees in what had once been a beautiful orchard.
She didn’t know when she would find the time, but she vowed to ensure that Lord Lockvale couldn’t harass her family or anyone else anymore. One way or another.
16
“It’s not going to glow or vibrate or detect ghosts or anything now, is it?” Leftie asked.
“What? Your arm?” Trip was sitting on a blanket with him, the last of the people he’d healed. Sardelle had healed Duck and another injured pilot who’d arrived later, entering the hangar bleak-faced and devastated after admitting that he had crashed his flier into the harbor.
“Yes, my arm that you magicked up and left all tingly.” Leftie rotated the limb, eyeing it suspiciously. The gash that had been there, a wound so deep the bone had been visible, was the faintest of scars now, and Trip thought even that would fade with time.
“You’re supposed to thank a healer,” Sardelle said. “Not complain.”
She’d finished and now stood, watching General Zirkander, who had only stopped working for a few brief words here and there. Though night lay deep outside now, he was sawing, sewing, and replacing hull and wing material right alongside the ground crew and several other officers. Trip could tell he was worried the dragons would return again soon and without warning.
“Oh, it wasn’t a complaint, ma’am.” Leftie lowered his arm. “Just a concern. I’m not comfortable being magicked.”
“I should think it preferable to the alternative.”
“I guess. I’m just… It’s still tingling, Trip.”
Leftie extracted his lucky ball-on-a-chain charm and kissed it. This was the fifth time he’d felt the need to do so since Trip started healing him. Trip was positive Leftie didn’t kiss it that often when he was flying into battle against impossible odds.
“That’s because it’s finishing growing new skin. It’s supposed to tingle. I promise that ghost detection is not in your future.” Trip patted him on the shoulder and stood up.
Blackness encroached on his vision, and he held his hands out to steady himself.
Easy, Azarwrath said. You’ve done a lot today. Your body needs rest.
I don’t think anyone is getting any rest tonight. Trip looked toward Zirkander and the others and felt another wave of guilt for not having been here for the battle.
I missed it too if it makes you feel better, Jaxi spoke into his mind.
Trip didn’t think he’d left his bank vault door open, but he was tired, so maybe he was easier to read. Or maybe Jaxi could simply guess from his face.
I was helping teach a twelve-year-old to catalog medicinal herbs when the dragons came, Jaxi added. A scintillating task, let me tell you. By the time Sardelle and I reached the army fort, all the fliers were already up in the sky and engaged in battle. There was no way for us to join Ridge. Jaxi sounded like she felt as bad about missing out as Trip. If Bhrava Saruth had been here, Sardelle and I could have flown into battle on his back. Or at least gotten a ride to the fort so we could go up with Ridge. He likes having us with him.
I’m sure it’s a helpful advantage for him.
It absolutely is. If I had been up there, maybe he wouldn’t have lost people.
She sounded distressed on Zirkander’s behalf—or maybe she’d known the pilots who had been lost?—so Trip didn’t point out that it was something of an arrogant thought. Besides, hadn’t he thought something similar in regard to himself earlier?
“Trip,” Zirkander said, walking up behind him. “Ahn and Grady gave me their reports, but I want to hear directly from you about the meeting with the elder dragon. Is it true that there’s no chance that he’ll take up residence here and act as a large golden scarecrow?”
Zirkander’s uniform was rumpled and stained with soot and engine grease, and he looked wearier than a sled dog at the end of a five-hundred-mile trek. Trip wished he had better news.
“Sorry, sir.” He seemed to be apologizing a lot tonight. “Unless Shulina Arya develops an interest in him, I don’t think so.”
“What?” Zirkander looked at Sardelle with a puzzled expression.
She lifted a single shoulder.
“Drysaleskar found her fetching, sir,” Trip said, “but she rebuffed his attempts to woo her.” Woo was hardly the word to describe the clumsy advance he had witnessed, but he lacked a better term.
“Is she even old enough to be wooed?” Another look at Sardelle. Maybe Zirkander considered her his guide to all things magical. And dragon-related. “I’ve seen her on wheels.”
“If she is, I suspect she would be more drawn to a younger soul,” Sardelle said, then yawned and rubbed her neck. “I want to check on our surrogate mothers to make sure nothing happened to them or the babies in the attack.”
Zirkander nodded.
“Trip, do you want to come along?” she asked.
“I… want them to be all right, of course, but—” Trip extended his hand toward the fliers, “—I’m sure the general needs me here.”
“We can always use your engineering knack, Trip, but you may want to be elsewhere for the rest of the night.” Zirkander glanced toward the doorway. “You may have noticed Angulus came up here to check on us—and Major Kaika.”
“Yes, sir. I sensed them leaving about ten minutes ago.” Trip remembered Kaika refusing to be carried, saying she had recovered and was fine, and that she would walk out at Angulus’s side, but what did that have to do with Trip being elsewhere?
“You may not have noticed a castle administrator who caught up with Angulus outside the hangar as he was coming in. He drew him aside and reported a complaint filed a little earlier.”
Trip’s stomach sank. Could the incident with Lockvale have caught up with him already?
“No, sir. I didn’t notice.”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping, but Jaxi has a knack for it.”
Pardon me, but it’s called observing, not eavesdropping. It’s not as if I hopped out of my scabbard, sneaked out there, and leaned myself against the wall where they were speaking.
“I suppose it was Lord Lockvale who made the complaint?” Trip sensed an indignant grumble from Azarwrath.
“Yes. What happened?” Zirkander regarded Trip gravely, his eyes troubled.
Seven gods, what had the nobleman said?
“He’s been teaming up with a silver dragon to try to drive Rys—Lieutenant Ravenwood’s family from their land
. I questioned him so I could get the truth.”
“How did you question him?”
“Just with words and telepathy. I mean, I asked him questions about it so I could read his thoughts. That’s not—” Trip glanced at Sardelle, not sure how much Zirkander truly knew about magic and what sorcerers were capable of, especially since he seemed to hide in his office or the duck blind whenever magic was happening in his house. “It’s not that hard to do.”
Sardelle nodded, as if to back him up, but her eyes were troubled too.
Because Lockvale reported a lot more than questioning, Jaxi said. He wants you hanged.
Trip almost fell over. What?
“He said you assaulted him in front of witnesses, used your magic to pin him down, and then you tried to kill him,” Zirkander said.
“Sir, I never hurt him. I was just trying to get answers. He lunged at me with a pistol. I put a barrier up, and he bounced off it—after trying to shoot me—but that’s it. I swear.”
Trip lifted his hands and gulped in deep breaths, trying to stave off the panic rising, but memories popped into his mind of all the times he and his grandparents had been forced to move when he’d been a boy. Because he’d been accused of witchcraft, or of causing strange and otherworldly things to happen.
To have a nobleman do the accusing… How could he fight back? This could end his career. Or his life.
No, Trip would run before letting anyone kill him, but run where? His life and everything he loved and wanted to be was here. Only his grandparents were back east, but it wasn’t as if he could go there—it would be the first place the army would look for him.
Zirkander rubbed a hand down his face. Even though he didn’t say anything, Trip couldn’t help but feel he’d disappointed the general. At the least, he’d made trouble for him.
“Was Lieutenant Ravenwood there, by chance?” Sardelle asked. “Another witness to contradict this man’s claims—”