“They don’t care,” I said, as Ilina tied off my second braid. “They don’t believe it will happen.”
Outside, wind screamed through the trees and a loud crack signaled a branch breaking free. Everyone stilled, listening for danger, but both raptuses were curled up near the fire, and Kelsine hadn’t budged from her spot near Hristo.
I dropped my gaze to my hands. “I cannot trust the Luminary Council. They didn’t just ignore the problem of dragons being sent to the empire—although that would be bad enough. They might be responsible for it, and that is why they wanted to silence me.”
One fact comforted me: as the biggest dragon sanctuary on the Fallen Isles, the Crescent Prominence sanctuary sheltered more than forty large dragons at any given time, including three Drakontos titanuses. Not all the large dragons had been taken.
At least not yet.
Ilina touched my arm as wind howled through the forest outside. Water leaked across the floor, still a safe distance from us, but we’d have to create better blanket dams if we didn’t want to drown in our sleep later.
“The Mira Treaty is meant to protect dragons.” Chenda glanced at Kelsine, LaLa, and Crystal. “And it was signed on Darina, under the light of the Luminary Council.”
Again, I was shaking my head before she finished. “I’m afraid the Mira Treaty might be a lie.”
Behind me, Ilina gasped. “What? No.”
Chenda laced her fingers together and rested her hands on her lap. “The Mira Treaty is one of the most important documents in the Fallen Isles. It’s changed everything. It cannot be a lie.”
“I believed that too,” I said, “but Altan told me—”
Ilina hissed. “Altan lies.”
Gerel bit off the thread she’d been working with and set the strapped sleeve aside. “I agree with Feisty. Altan has a history of lying.”
My heart thudded, echoing in my ears as loud as the thunder outside. “Listen to what he told me, and tell me if you don’t find it compelling.” I counted off the list on my fingers:
“One. The preamble of the treaty claims that we bow to the light of Noore—the one true authority. That’s a phrase that supposedly hasn’t been used before the treaty, at least not on the Fallen Isles.
“Two. Harta’s independence. People didn’t suddenly realize that it’s wrong to occupy another island. No, we were forced to do the right thing, because in the empire, everything belongs to the empress.
“Three. We’re sending dragons and noorestones there. What other reason do we have for giving up the children of the gods, if not as payment for safety?”
Another peal of thunder shook the cabin. Three seconds. Four. Five. I grabbed one of the nearby noorestones and squeezed, trying to calm the whirling in my thoughts.
“I don’t want it to be true.” I turned the noorestone over and over in my hands. Fidgeting was unbecoming, but dawn was close, and I hadn’t had even a mediocre night of sleep in two days. Fainting from blood loss earlier probably didn’t count as proper rest. “I don’t want to believe the Luminary Council would strap us to the empire, but they lied to me about why the dragons were being taken from the sanctuary, and who’s to say that lie isn’t bigger and more complex than we originally thought? Who’s to say the Mira Treaty itself isn’t the lie behind everything?”
My throat tightened with those words.
“And if that’s true,” I added, “then the Algotti Empire has already conquered us.”
“Then learning the truth about the Mira Treaty should be our priority,” Chenda said. “And through that, we will be able to rescue your dragons.”
“If we wait, the dragons will be unreachable.” Ilina gazed down at Crystal and LaLa. “We have to go as soon as Hristo can travel. First to Harta, for Kelsine and to make sure they’ll take the dragons we rescue. And then we’ll figure out where the others have been taken.”
“What about your parents, Fancy?” Gerel looked at me. “Can they help?”
“Absolutely not,” Ilina said before I had a chance.
“Your father is the architect of the treaty,” Chenda said to me. “It would benefit us to find out what he knows.”
“There is no us,” Ilina said. “We’re splitting up. You can go on to Damina and ask Mira’s father if he intentionally helped sell us to the Algotti Empire, but Mira, Hristo, and I are going to rescue dragons.”
“This is not only about dragons,” Chenda said. “This is bigger. This is the safety of the Fallen Isles.”
“If the remaining children of the gods are sent away, the gods will abandon us.” My jaw hurt from tensing it. “You felt the quake in the Pit. And on Idris two months ago. Even this storm could be part of the Great Abandonment.” I gestured around the room as rain beat the walls in an angry staccato, and water crept closer toward us.
Aaru looked down at his hands resting in his lap; I shouldn’t have brought up the Idrisi tremor. I didn’t know exactly what had happened, but I did know he’d been there, and that something had changed that day.
Lightning flared, illuminating the cabin for a heartbeat.
“Our world is in trouble.” I forced my tone even. “We must do what we can to right it.”
“Returning four or five dragons will not appease the gods,” Chenda said. “We must approach this from another angle, and on a larger scale.”
Chenda was a politician. Of course she’d see it like that.
“There’s another reason to go after the dragons directly,” I said after a moment. “The noorestones.”
“What about the noorestones?” Gerel asked.
“The shipment contained ten giant noorestones.”
“Why do they matter?” Chenda picked up one of the smaller noorestones scattered on the floor, cupping the blue-white light in her palms. “Even if the crystals are big, Bopha’s mines are rich. There are still untouched deposits all over the island.”
“Huge noorestones as big as this room.” I gestured around. “Do you remember the Infinity?”
“She sank and most of the crew was lost.” Gerel shrugged. “What does that have to do with noorestones?”
“She didn’t just sink.” My mind fluttered back to the conversation with Ilina and Hristo when we’d first found the shipping order. “The Infinity exploded.”
Aaru’s eyebrows lifted. Chenda and Gerel exchanged alarmed glances.
“You don’t have to tell them everything,” Ilina whispered. “We don’t need them.”
Ilina was wrong. I did need them. I owed them all so much, and Ilina did too. We wouldn’t have made it out of the Pit alive without Gerel, Chenda, and Aaru. I just had to make them see things my way, and that was what I was supposed to be good at, right? That was my job as Hopebearer.
“The giant noorestones that power ships like the Infinity and Star-Touched aren’t stable,” I said. “Not like these smaller stones.” I lifted the one I’d been toying with. “Unfortunately, a dragon being transported on the Infinity got loose and something happened between it and one of the noorestones. . . .”
::Go on,:: Aaru said.
“It exploded,” I said. “Most everyone was killed, including the dragon. I believe it is one of the greatest tragedies of our time, but only a few people know about it. The public would never trust noorestones again if they knew that even a few very rare varieties might be dangerous.”
Gerel’s expression was dark. “And you know about it because . . .”
“Because she was likely given a speech in case the news got out,” Chenda provided. “It’s not uncommon.”
I nodded. “The shipping order said there were ten giant noorestones going with the dragons. Crystals that size could be used to power ships able to traverse the sea between the Fallen Isles and the mainland. Or—”
“Potential weapons are heading toward the Algotti Empire.” Gerel drew a heavy breath. “Altan knows about the dragons. Does he know about this, too?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t want him to know.”
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She lifted an eyebrow.
“When we were little”—I motioned between Ilina and me—“we used to hear stories about the honorable Drakon Warriors and how they protected the Isles. But if Altan could hurt people like he did me, or later Aaru, then I couldn’t trust what he’d do with noorestones that could destroy a ship like the Infinity.” I swallowed hard. “Maybe the Drakon Warriors used to be the good, honorable protectors of the Isles, but they aren’t anymore.”
Gerel pressed her mouth in a line, hardening her expression like that would disguise the hurt. She’d wanted to be a Drakon Warrior, but she’d believed they’d disbanded, as the Mira Treaty ordered. She hadn’t known the elite order had stayed around, just hidden.
“Ten noorestones like that could devastate a city,” Chenda said.
“Or several cities, if they knew where to place the noorestones to cause secondary explosions.” Gerel closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “That does change things.”
Chenda shot Gerel an annoyed look. “You would think that.”
Gerel tilted her head. “Of course I think that we can’t let the empire control the most powerful, deadly weapons in the Fallen Isles. You should worry about it, too. If the Mira Treaty is a sham—”
“If the treaty is a sham. We need to find proof of that, first of all, and the best way to do that is to visit Crescent Prominence.”
“If Mira sets foot in Crescent Prominence, she will be arrested and maybe killed,” Ilina said.
“They’d never kill the Hopebearer.”
“They don’t need me anymore. They found someone else—”
Before I could finish, lightning struck just outside, illuminating the window with blinding electric light. Thunder cracked overhead.
Something else cracked too.
A tree.
A wall.
Our screams as wind howled through the main room, and the great gash in the wall as the cabin tore open.
AARU
Ten Years Ago
I FOUND SAFA IN THE RAIN.
It was always raining, at least for half the year, and I was in charge of the barrels. When they got full, I opened the taps and let the water flow through hoses, filters, and into underground cisterns that would hold enough fresh water to get us through the dry season. At least, the whole family prayed it lasted. There were four children by then, a fifth on the way, and we weren’t acquiring new cisterns as quickly.
That night, the noise of rain kept me awake, so I got up to do chores.
Only my small, fading noorestone illuminated the wet night, and just as I reached to twist the knob on the last barrel, I saw her: a tiny, shivering girl tucked between the barrel and the house. She was maybe three or four years old, wearing a hooded sweater and torn skirts, but no shoes; mud caked her tiny brown feet. At every crash of thunder, she made a low whine.
I led her inside and dried her by the fire, cringing every time she made a sound: a creak in the floor, a shuddering breath, a sneeze. My parents—along with my youngest sister, Hafeez—were in their room, and the other two were in the second bedroom. That left me with a mat near the fireplace.
Or it did, until the girl. I had no idea where I’d sleep now, but she needed the heat more. When she was warm and dry, I gave her my good blanket and tried asking her name. Her eyes followed my fingers tapping on my knees, but she only frowned. Maybe she didn’t know the quiet code. Strange.
I eyed the door to my parents’ room and kept my voice low. “Can you speak?”
She didn’t even look at me.
Another bolt of lightning hit nearby, and thunder broke right over the house, shaking everything.
The girl shrieked and buried herself under the covers.
I checked the bedroom doors—closed—and leaned toward the girl. “Hush,” I whispered. “It’s only thunder.”
She didn’t respond. Just whimpered.
Dread welled up inside me. If she didn’t stop, we’d both be in trouble. I could already feel the basement steps, the yawning darkness below, and the hours of copying pages from The Book of Silence that awaited me.
The thunder faded, and I said, “Hush.”
Her cry cut off with a small meep.
“Please don’t yell again. Thunder can’t hurt you.” Not like her voice could.
Frantically, she pulled the blankets off her head and leaned toward me, wearing an expression of concentration.
My parents’ door opened, and my stomach dropped.
“What are you doing?” Father’s voice was both soft and loud at the same time. Beyond him, I heard Korinah and Alya sneak to their bedroom door to listen.
In hurried quiet code, I explained how I’d found the little girl.
Father glanced at Mother; he was always gentler when she was around. “Keep her until morning, but no more screaming or you’re both in the basement.”
I’d be quiet. We both would.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE CABIN RIPPED APART, UNLEASHING THE FULL fury of the storm into our space. LaLa and Crystal shrieked, diving toward us as though we might be able to protect them from the weather, and Kelsine lurched up from her bedding with a surprised roar.
Water lashed across the room in waves, slapping and stinging exposed skin. Wind grabbed my hair and pulled, and LaLa trembled in my arms, her wings pressed tight against her body and her face ducked between us.
“We have to move!” But move where, I didn’t know. In the rain-muted noorestone light, I could just make out our things sliding across the floor. Packs. Shoes. Bowls. The blankets we’d been using to dam the tide had already been lost to the gale.
Aaru tugged my shoulder and pointed toward the washroom.
“Go!” I thrust LaLa into his arms, heedless of her sharp scales. “I’ll tell the others.”
He opened his mouth as if to argue, but even if sound were able to come out, the roar of wind and driving rain would have drowned his voice.
I pushed him and turned toward Gerel, who was already waking Hristo.
My protector flailed, confused with injury and shock. “What—” Then he saw the gaping hole in the cabin and allowed Gerel to help him to his feet. “What happened? Where are we?” At least, that was what I thought he said; wind whipped away his words.
And when he found me, I pointed toward the washroom where Ilina—carrying Crystal and an armful of random items—vanished through the doorway, with Chenda close behind her. “In there!” I shouted.
Gerel nodded and helped Hristo through the screaming gusts of wind and rain.
The only one left was Kelsine, huddled in the washed-out remains of the fireplace and growling at the storm.
I pushed toward her, straining against the wind as it tried to suck me from the cabin. “Kelsine!” I reached for her, but the dragon just stared at me, wide-eyed and shivering.
The storm keened through the space. Wood groaned and trembled. And under the shriek of wind, I heard Ilina calling me.
“I can’t leave her out here!” I shouted over my shoulder, but she couldn’t hear me over the howling. I turned back to Kelsine. “Come on.” I reached for her again, but she drew backward, deeper into the fireplace, spilling ash and partially burned logs out across the floor.
I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t persuade her. With all of my might, I grabbed Kelsine at the scruff and around one leg and pulled. “Let’s go! We can’t stay out here!”
Not that I was sure if the washroom would be any better. What if that lost a wall, too?
“Mira!” At the doorway, Ilina grabbed Aaru’s arm and hauled him back. He stared at me, eyes wide and mouth making the shape of my name as he reached for me.
Lightning flashed overhead, blinding, and thunder roared, shaking the cabin. The boom startled Kelsine into motion, and at once she and I were racing toward the door. I paused only to scoop up handfuls of anything not taken by the storm, then leaned into the wind to follow.
One last look outside the shredded wall revealed rain falling almost hor
izontally, trees bending under the strain, and forest debris flying everywhere. The noise of it all sounded like an angry Drakontos titanus: huge, powerful, and soul-shuddering. This storm could level a city.
Then I dived into the washroom and threw the door closed—but it bounced back and hit the wall with a smack.
Gerel appeared at my side, and together we heaved the door against the violent wind until it shut.
Walls groaned as air whistled through the cracks, and the door shuddered in its frame. It seemed unlikely the washroom would protect us any more than the main room had.
“What were you thinking?” Gerel nudged me. “Dragging in Kelsine like that. Are you stupid?”
“I couldn’t leave her behind. She came to us for help.” My hands were shaking, ruddy with scrapes from Kelsine’s scales. My jaw ached from clenching. And my heart—my heart beat so hard I could feel it in my temples and throat and wrists. I leaned on the door, gasping for breath around the panicked squeeze in my throat. “Is everyone all right?”
Everyone was soaked, skin slicked with rain and faces ashen from shock. There were but seven noorestones here, and even their light seemed dim under the fury of the storm. Our safe house—the place we’d come to get away from trouble—was destroyed.
Just beyond the thin door, wind raged and pushed, trying to get in.
“I think so,” Ilina said after a moment of everyone absorbing the idea of being trapped in the washroom. With the tub and the water pump, there wasn’t much space for the six of us. Plus the pair of Drakontos raptuses, who were perched on the faucet, both of their bodies bent low, worried clicks coming staccato from their throats. And Kelsine, who unsuccessfully tried to press herself between the tub and pump. Dragons usually liked storms.
Not this storm.
Aaru tapped on the tub, not with words, but instruction.
“Right.” Gerel squeezed away from the tub, putting Chenda in front of her. “Get in.”