“You and Aaru, hmm?” Ilina winked. “I suppose it makes sense. You’re both quiet. You both spend a lot of time with your own thoughts.”
“He used to speak out loud.”
“Often?”
I shook my head. “Not often, but some. Usually for other people. He stopped after Altan—” I didn’t want to say the word torture. Not here in this city that was so full of hope and life.
Ilina knew what I meant, anyway.
As we pushed onward, Hristo and I pointed out different sites for Ilina, who’d never been here.
“That’s the pyramid we saw coming in.” Hristo motioned westward, to the immense building rising off the bluff. The sandstone gleamed under the hot sun, blinding. But on the shadowed south side, the stone seemed . . . soft. Like something was growing there now. “The Khulani built it the first time the Warrior Tribunal controlled Harta, and they assigned governors and overseers to live there. When Damina took over after that, they didn’t tear down the pyramid—they just moved in.”
He said it all matter-of-factly, distanced from the painful history in tone, if not in his heart. Years ago, when I’d first begun to internalize how my ancestors had controlled his, I’d asked if he hated me.
No, he’d said, but he was angry. Angry at the past he couldn’t change. Angry at the people who talked as though independence wasn’t important. Angry that so many people acted as though the centuries of occupation had never happened at all.
I hadn’t understood that anger. Not in him. The Hristo I knew was warm and kind, one of the most wonderful people on all of Noore, and he loved to laugh.
Now I knew there were parts of him that he kept hidden, even from his best friends. And while that knowledge hurt, The Book of Love reminded us that we weren’t entitled to every raw feeling of others, not even of those closest to us. It said they’d share if they wanted, and love meant we accepted that.
And I loved Hristo. I accepted what parts of him he would share with me, and the parts he chose to keep to himself.
That was how I understood that his detached tone while speaking of his homeland’s occupation was a shield. A barrier. A dam against pain that Ilina and I were not allowed to see.
“Bophans added a shadow spire there.” He pointed ahead to a slender structure that rose in the center of the city. He and I had gone in there when I was fifteen. I’d been giving a speech to the first class of Hartan students to go through school under the Mira Treaty. It had been a difficult trip for Hristo; we still didn’t talk about it.
“The buildings look different in different sections,” Ilina said.
She was right. The architecture around the Red Wine Inn was all tall, elegant stonework and large windows, while just a little ways south, there was a cluster of flat buildings made from polished wood.
“Everything from before Harta’s occupation was destroyed,” Hristo said. “Other islands built Val fa Merce in chunks. A little here, a little there.”
“What about that?” Ilina pointed toward a small park dotted with palm trees and metal braziers that could be lit on cold nights. Children raced across the emerald grass, while adults lounged on benches to read or visit with one another. “A park seems like something Hartans would build.”
Hristo shook his head. “That one is Anaheran. The previous government had thought to draft Hartans to work on other islands. One person from each family would go. They’d be paid for their work, same as before, but such a law would have torn apart every family in Harta. There were protests for decans, and hundreds of people were jailed for no reason.”
Sickness twisted in my stomach. A previous Luminary Council had done that—or tried to.
“At the same time, Anahera was fighting for control of Harta. They won just before the draft could go into effect.” Hristo gazed at the park, frowning. “The Fire Ministry had the draft office razed, and they built this park in its place. It was meant to symbolize beauty from ashes, per Anahera’s Book of Destruction, but one halfway decent act doesn’t change the fact that the Fire Ministry was just another government Harta didn’t choose.”
Ilina pressed her mouth into a tight line. It wasn’t necessary to say how horrible the other islands had been to Harta; Hristo knew. And while I’d once believed the Mira Treaty was proof of our growth, the Twilight Senate’s deportation decree—and the Luminary Council’s support of it—revealed the the truth: people now could be just as horrible as they had been three hundred years ago.
“Hartans haven’t had anything to call their own in centuries,” Hristo finished, “so they’ve just embraced everything for now. It’s part of their history. Maybe one day it will morph into something new.”
He’d said they. Like he wasn’t Hartan, too.
But he hadn’t grown up here; he and his father had come to Damina when he was a baby, and he’d spent his whole life there, or traveling with me.
He’d told me once that he wasn’t Hartan. He wasn’t Daminan. He wasn’t anything.
I’d said that he was Hristo, and that was everything.
I couldn’t tell whether he’d believed me.
We continued walking, Hristo pointing out other buildings and monuments—some built since the Mira Treaty came into effect—and I clutched the basket of dragons and watched the crowds.
Finally, we passed through the worst part of the crush, and hailed a horsecarre to take us the rest of the way.
“Where to?” The driver had a deep voice, musical almost, and sunbaked brown skin only partly shaded by a wide-brimmed hat.
“First Harta Dragon Sanctuary.” My fingers ached around the basket handles.
“What’s your currency?” he asked.
“Lumes.” Ilina pulled out one large coin as proof.
“It’ll be half a lume there.”
“We’ll make it two lumes if you wait for us and bring us back to town when we’re finished.”
“All right.” He gave a toothy smile. “Get in.”
And though I mourned our chance to bring Kelsine to safety, I hoped this visit would secure a place for her here when we were reunited.
If the gods were with us, this visit would end with aid for a lot of dragons, but I couldn’t ignore a sense of dread that tightened inside my gut. Nothing was this easy.
AARU
Eight Years Ago
STEALING WAS WRONG. I KNEW THAT. AND YET, FOR Safa, I took the risk.
Father’s dismissal of Safa’s power festered like rot within me. And Mother’s warning grew into a constant fear that rattled in the back of my head. Safa was a little sister to me, and the thought of anyone coming for her . . .
Idris might frown on my actions, but he was the one who’d given Safa his Voice. If he wouldn’t protect her, I would.
After my preparations were complete, I took Safa beyond the fields to where a wide stream fed the river. Rain trees and ferns gathered around the water, providing cover for the small boat that waited on the shore.
::What is this?:: She looked around, frowning.
I listened for anyone nearby, but all I could hear was the breeze against the foliage, water babbling over rocks, and the faint hiss of crops in the fields behind us.
::I told Father what you did,:: I said. ::I told him how you frightened away the dragon.::
Safa lifted an eyebrow. ::Was he impressed?::
::He said it wasn’t possible. That girls could not possess the Voice of Idris.::
::But I did it.:: A scowl tugged at her mouth.
I nodded. ::You did. And when I told Mother, she warned me not to tell anyone else. She wanted me to warn you not to do it again.::
::Why?::
I started to shrug, but I knew, didn’t I? ::I don’t think the Silent Brothers would like it.::
::Why?::
::They believe girls can’t have the Voice of Idris.::
::But I do.::
I nodded.
::Then I’m special.::
::You are,:: I agreed. ::But—::
Her expression darkened. ::But what?::
But the Silent Brothers would not reward her specialness. They would see her as a challenge to their rule, and a contradiction to the customs of our society. ::I think they would hurt you,:: I said at last. ::I think if they knew what you can do, they would hurt you and we’d never see each other again.::
Safa stepped back, alarm plain on her face.
::That’s why I did this.:: I gestured toward the boat. ::There’s food in sealed containers. Bottles for water. Blankets.::
She just stared at me. ::Why?::
::In case they find out about you. In case you need to run.::
Her round eyes shifted toward the boat, taking in the old wood and the brush half concealing the contents. Then she looked at me again. ::Where would I go?::
::I don’t know. Maybe there is somewhere people aren’t scared of powerful girls.::
She heaved a deep sigh. ::I won’t use the Voice ever again. I’ll never tell anyone about it.::
My heart twisted. The Book of Silence said to be proud of the gifts our god bestowed, not to hide them in shame. It didn’t add “as long as you are a boy,” but for some reason, that was how the Silent Brothers interpreted it.
Still, for now, this had to be our secret.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AN OVERCAST SKY, HEAVY WITH HELD-BREATH PRESSURE and rumbling thunder, greeted us as we finally approached the immense wall that surrounded the First Harta Dragon Sanctuary.
“Ever been here before?” The driver turned his head just slightly, enough to indicate he was talking to us and not some invisible presence, but not enough to actually see our faces.
Ilina glanced at me, and I shook my head. I’d visited the sanctuary both of my previous visits to Harta, but I didn’t need to share that information with a stranger.
“No.” Ilina leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, so she didn’t have to shout over the clatter of the horsecarre. “Have you?”
“Unfortunately not. And if they really do have to move, I probably won’t ever get to visit. I hoped to take my children one day.”
“I hadn’t heard about them moving.” Ilina’s tone was pitched with just the right amount of curiosity, her shoulders set at just the perfect angle. Even away from our gods, her skills at using Daminan charms were practiced. “Did something happen?”
“A decan ago,” he said. “Give or take a few days.”
Ilina looked back and caught my eye, worry growing between us. “What was it?”
“Dragon got out.” He pointed westward, where the land was completely flat, as though the daughter goddess had swept her hand along the earth to smooth all the wrinkles. “Burned down three farms before the keepers managed to get her back to the sanctuary.”
My heart climbed up my throat. What would make a dragon do such a thing? Certainly dragons had burned whatever they liked throughout history, but never within living memory. As intelligent creatures, dragons knew they were endangered, and that humans were struggling to protect them now. Sanctuary dragons in particular seemed keenly aware of this fact.
“Was anyone hurt?” Ilina asked.
The driver shook his head. “Property only. All those harvests were burned, and a house was lost. But people around here are angry enough to start asking officials to have the sanctuary moved.”
“Based on one incident?” Ilina was incredulous.
“Dragons are bigger than us,” he said. “More dangerous than us.”
I wanted to argue that second point, but I kept my mouth shut. We’d reached the sanctuary gate.
“Here we are.” The driver reined the horses and we stopped moving. He gestured toward the locked gates. “But they aren’t letting anyone in.”
Hristo scowled. “Did you know they were closed?”
The driver shrugged. “You said you wanted to come here, and I don’t turn down a good fare.”
“They’ll let us in.” Ilina nudged Hristo to exit the horsecarre.
“What makes you think so?” asked the driver. “Plenty of folks have tried.”
She flashed a wide smile his way. “I’m Daminan. I’ll charm them.”
“If you say so. How long do you think you’ll be, if your plan works?”
“An hour at most.” When we climbed out of the horsecarre, Ilina tossed the driver half a lume—the cost for the ride here.
“Do you think he’ll wait for us?” Hristo asked as we walked toward the gate.
Ilina shrugged. “There’s another lume and a half for him, and he clearly likes money.”
LaLa and Crystal shifted in their basket as we approached the gate, as though they could sense the dragons beyond—and maybe the toys and treats and the oncoming storm. When the lid bounced and a tiny silver face peeked out, Ilina held the basket closed.
“Just a minute.”
We paused outside the gates—wrought iron folded into images of Harta tending fields and holding children—and peered through. “Do you see anyone?” I asked.
Between the gates, we had a fractured view of the three facility buildings, and the drakarium beyond. Small dragons flew over and around the delicate arched structure, blowing fire at the clouds, calling and chasing in some endless game I could not fathom.
Most dragons loved storms, letting the taste of lightning tickle the backs of their throats until their spark glands tingled. Scales flashed in the cloud-diffused light, red and yellow and orange. And in the box, LaLa and Crystal strained against the lid, desperate to make new friends and join their games.
“Not until we’re inside the sanctuary.” Ilina pressed on the lid again, her face twisting up into knots of frustration.
Strangely, when I peered farther, I didn’t spot any of the larger species flying in the distance. The land here was flat, a freshly smoothed tablecloth, which was less than ideal for larger species. Knowing this, the sanctuary builders had hauled hundreds—thousands—of boulders and loads of dirt to create mounds a dragon might want to use to build a den. From there, dragons had to build downward, deeper into the ground. I couldn’t see the dragon mounds from here, but that in itself wasn’t surprising. Nevertheless, there should be at least a couple of big dragons flying. . . .
“There’s someone.” Hristo nudged me. “Near the offices.”
I peered through the gate again, spotting a tall man in a green and tan sanctuary uniform—similar to the uniforms Ilina had always worn at home—but it didn’t seem to fit him very well. The sleeves were too short and the jacket too loose.
“Hello!” Ilina called, and waved when he looked over. “Let us in!”
Abruptly, the man strode out of our sight.
“Where are all the other keepers?” Hristo looked at Ilina, like she might have done something with them. “If we don’t get in soon, we’ll have to go back to the city—”
“I am not letting that driver think he’s right. Besides, he could have warned us about the sanctuary being closed if he wanted, but he took our money anyway. Greedy.”
“Hello.” An older man in a keeper uniform approached the gate. “I heard you yelling, but I’m sorry to say that we aren’t taking visitors right now.”
He wasn’t the same man we’d seen a few moments ago. No, this was a keeper I recognized from my first visit to Harta when I was twelve. He’d been ancient-looking then, and the five years since had only added to the lines and wrinkles and patchy gray hair.
“Keeper Azure.” I turned my face slightly, hiding the scar, and smiled. How lucky to run into a keeper I already knew, someone who would definitely want to help me. It would take no effort at all to persuade him to take refugee dragons into this sanctuary. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, but I’m—”
“Mira Minkoba.” Though his eyes widened in surprise, he didn’t waste any time fishing a set of keys from his pocket. “You’ve grown.”
“It happens to all of us.” Thunder growled overhead. “This is my friend Ilina, and you remember my personal guard, Hristo.”
 
; The gate screeched open just enough for us to pass through, and I caught Ilina shooting a triumphant smile over her shoulder, toward the horsecarre driver.
“Of course. The Hartan guard with the Daminan name. And you”—he looked at Ilina—“are the daughter of Viktor and Tereza of the Crescent Prominence sanctuary, yes?”
“They are my parents.” Ilina bowed her head, hiding every shred of her anger over her parents’ betrayal of the Mira Treaty.
“I’ve heard much about you, Miss Ilina. You’re something of a legend in the dragon community.”
“That’s very generous.” Her smile was meant to be demure, but real pride shone through. If Ilina liked anything, it was being good at her job.
Keeper Azure closed the gate behind us and tucked his key into his pocket again. “I’m pleased to have all of you here. Would you like to join me in my office and tell me what you need? I will make tea.”
“We’d like to use your medical facilities first, if you don’t mind.” I reached into the basket on Ilina’s arm and pulled LaLa from inside. The golden Drakontos raptus perched on my wrist, careful of her talons and my skin. Then she greeted me with a nosebump and throaty purr, her broken wing held carefully aloft.
Then Ilina took Crystal, letting Hristo carry the basket.
Keeper Azure’s attention shifted to the dragons. “Drakontos raptuses. Superb coloring. Possibly related, if the scales around their eyes are any indication. These must be the famous LaLa and Crystal.”
LaLa preened; though (as far as I knew) she couldn’t understand his words, his praise-filled tone was clear.
“Broken bones?” He held his hand just near her splinted wing.
“Her radius and ulna were fractured,” Ilina provided.
“Dragons do have a remarkable tolerance for pain, don’t they? What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“An accident,” I said, maybe too quickly.
“Ah. Well. Of course you may use the facilities.” He glanced at Hristo’s right hand, and the scar on my face. “Seems like there’s been a lot of accidents lately.”