Ambushed (The Brindle Dragon Book 4)

by Jada Fisher

  “By the Three,” she felt herself whisper.

  “What?” Dille asked uncertainly.

  Eist couldn’t say, because she didn’t know how to describe it. Although Dille was standing there, hand on her hip and book in hand, she also wasn’t there. It was like she was transparent, not enough of her present to make a lasting impression.

  But what was solid around her were dozens of different bonds, all glowing in different colors. Eist saw a blue string of energy about her neck, bound tightly and trailing up into the air.

  Her wrists were tied in gold. Her legs in red. Her arms in green. It was like too many things were laying claim to her, wanting to whisk her off somewhere else, far away.

  And then, at the center of her, was that familiarity that she had talked about. It was golden, just like Fior, and burned brightly.

  “Do you see something?”

  “No,” Eist answered quickly. Too quickly. Dille clearly knew but didn’t say anything else. At least she knew when to push and when not to.

  Eist turned away quickly, grimacing at herself. It seemed that all of her time in the healer’s hall had robbed her of her normal ability to remain largely impassive. Or maybe it was just too much time spent thinking and denying only to have everything she was avoiding shoved in her face.

  Either way, she picked up on something immediately. It was just behind Fior, a thin, golden string. Quivering and almost too weak to see, she walked toward it.

  “This way,” Eist said softly.

  It led them back inside, up a staircase that they normally didn’t use, and then out to one of the walkways that had balconies set up facing the training fields and front gate. There Eist could see a group of riders finishing their preparation and taking to the air.

  All of them were armed, and most of them were in full regalia. Wherever they were going, it certainly wasn’t expected to be safe.

  “I wonder what that’s about,” Dille said, coming up beside Eist to lean against the railing.

  “Me too. I haven’t heard them ring the alarm since…”

  “Since they brought you back from the village you were found in.”

  “Actually, I never heard that,” Eist admitted. “I was talking about the time that red dragon crashed into the middle of the field.”

  “Ah, yeah. I’d almost forgotten about that.”

  “I never have,” Eist murmured. “That was the day the feeling started.”

  “The feeling that something was coming?” Eist nodded and Dille let out a breath. “Well, I guess we’re stuck just having to sit back and wait to see what happens. In the meantime, you can tell me about the magic you encountered.”

  “Later,” Eist said, pulling away from the edge of the balcony. “For now, let’s go get some sleep. I’m exhausted.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  They walked to their third-year dorm, Veralda already pacing their own balcony with concern. She settled down as the girls did, but even under her covers, Eist couldn’t help the concern that worried at her gut.

  So much had changed since she had first entered the academy. Her vision. Her thoughts on magic. Her trust in both the system and the council. And, try as she might, that man from the clearing felt like he was still looming over her, weaving a web that was going to entangle everyone she loved.

  She just hoped that being attacked twice had made her paranoid and all of her nightmares would turn out to be just that: dreams that turned sour in the night.

  4

  What’s in a Name?

  “What are you doing during this week’s break?” Yacrist asked, plopping down beside Eist at dinner. Ain and Athar sat with them. It had become a bit of a routine for all five of them to eat together, instead of just the usual trio of Dille, Yacrist and Eist, and she liked it. It almost felt like a family. It helped that from time to time, her grandfather would also swing by and regale them with tales of other dragon hopefuls and riders of yesteryear.

  “Why?” Ain asked dryly, looking Yacrist over with that dissecting gaze of his. Eist didn’t quite know why, but there seemed to be a strange sort of tension between the two men. Not outright hostility. Not even enmity. Just…friction. Like they were competing over something that she didn’t get.

  “I was talking to Eist and Dille, actually,” Yacrist answered smoothly, grinning just as toothily at Ain.

  “You didn’t actually make it clear who you were addressing, though,” Dille said with a smile. “And Eist and I were thinking of working on Fior’s flying.”

  “While that does sound productive, I have something far better in mind.” Yacrist turned bodily toward them, beaming proudly.

  “More important than my future as a dragon rider?” Eist retorted teasingly.

  “Yes. Perhaps the most important moment of your life!”

  She could tell when Yacrist was putting on his overly charming and dramatic act, and it made her chuckle slightly. He always knew how to make situations less serious. Sometimes people like her and Dille needed someone like that. “Oh wow, and what such glorious event could you be talking about?”

  “Why none other than my nameday! We’re having a celebration at the Grand Palace, and it would be quite nice if you could come.”

  Eist’s eyes widened at that. The Grand Palace? The closest she had ever gotten was watching the dragon rider tournament back when she was eleven.

  “And your father is fine with having the four of us join you?” she asked, her mind trying to catch up with everything a celebration at such a noble place could mean.

  While Eist did have a family name, it had been granted to her parents because of their heroism for the country. In truth, her mother had been a foreigner and her father had just been a commoner whose parents just happened to do well for themselves before they had died in one of the great wars against the Blight long ago. W’allenhaus was only a generation old, and Eist was already the last surviving member. She wasn’t the same as the nobility and great names that would be present there. She didn’t have any court training or know how to address people. It wasn’t like her grandfather could teach her either. He’d been a sculptor from Baeldred before immigrating to Rothaiche M’or.

  “I, uh, actually wasn’t inv—”

  “Why would we want to go to one of those overwrought affairs?” Ain interrupted. “Please, one of the best parts of being here at the academy is avoiding all that fluff and drudgery.”

  “…I w-wouldn’t mind going.”

  All four of them looked to Athar, whose gaze was firmly on his plate piled high with food. Eist wished he would look up more often, so she could see his face. It was a nice face.

  “Really?” she asked. “You want to go to the Grand Palace?” She knew that there had to be people there that had mocked him when he was younger. Spending time with them didn’t sound like all that great an experience.

  “Will th-th-there be dancing?” His eyes flicked up hopefully, strangely to Eist and not Yacrist, before flicking back down again. She had noticed that the big guy always had a bit of trouble with his TH and CH sounds, but he seemed to be improving steadily.

  “Uh, yeah. I guess,” Yacrist said, looking a bit chuffed but Eist couldn’t figure out why.

  “Well, if you want me to go, and Athar wants to go, I don’t see how I can say no.”

  Dille sighed beside her. “If Eist is going, then I suppose I’ll be there as well.”

  There was a bit of silence as Ain chewed methodically. It stretched on past the point of discomfort before he swallowed. “Fine. I’ll go. But only because Athar is going, and I need to make sure he doesn’t accidentally crush anything precious in his giant golem hands.”

  “Th-they’re not that big,” Athar objected quietly.

  “Sure, they’re not. Just know that if you keep growing, Mother is going to have to sew two of your tunics together to actually clothe you decently.”

  “I dunno,” Dille remarked with a confident drawl that had Eist blinking at her in surprise. “If he
went around without a shirt, would it really be that great a loss?”

  At that, Athar blushed a deep vermillion, and Ain tilted his head back with a laugh. “Careful. Don’t go breaking my best friend.”

  “That sounds like a challenge I wouldn’t mi—”

  “Right! So, my nameday,” Yacrist interrupted, clapping his hands. “No need for presents but please come prepared for cake and celebration! No being sour pusses over in the corner.”

  Eist leveled her gaze at him. “What makes you think that we would be anything less than enthusiastic?” she managed to ask in her driest tone possible.

  He laughed at that and clapped her gently on her back. “Don’t worry. You’re going to have a great time, I promise.”

  Somehow Eist doubted that, but sometimes one had to do things they didn’t want to for their friends. Besides, it probably wouldn’t be too bad if all of them were together.

  It was that bad.

  Eist plucked at the dress she was wearing, turning once more in the looking glass they had in their dorm. She hadn’t worn one since before she joined the academy, and it seemed to demand an entirely different way of moving.

  “You don’t have to wear it, you know,” Dille said, sitting at the desk in her own gown.

  “I know,” Eist said with a sigh. “But if Yacrist sent these to us, I think we should. For his nameday, you know? Besides, it’s not that I dislike dresses. I just didn’t realize how…restrictive they’d be.”

  Or how she would look in one. Every day, she mostly wore her battered tunics or practice armor. They were genderless, and not exactly formfitting, but the contraption she wore now was neither.

  It was the prettiest shade of seafoam that she had ever seen, with a thick underlayer that felt secure but another layer over that that seemed as light as air. The sleeves were flush to her body, as was the bodice, but the bottom was voluminous and would probably trip her on the stairs. There was delicate, pink stitching all along the hem of tiny little flowers and green vines, showing that someone very skilled had spent quite a lot of time constructing the garment. It was pretty without being pretentious, but it was one hundred percent feminine.

  It clung tightly to her chest, pushing it up and holding it in place. It pressed in her middle, which had once again started to become thick and solid in the month that the academy had started up again. It made her look…

  Pretty.

  It was too bad about that witch’s eye. Without that blown-out circle of black in one eye, she’d almost look like an actual lady. Of course, it helped that Dille had helped brush her long, blonde hair into a braided crown around her head instead of the loose, wild mess she normally favored.

  “It would be a bit difficult to punch someone in these. I bet we’d rip the shoulders.”

  Eist appreciated that Dille was lumping them together, but there was no threat of the dark-skinned girl busting out of anything. While Eist was wide and solid, with broad shoulders that fit her wide hips, Dille was more in line with how a lady’s body should look. While parts of her had certainly grown during their time apart, she was still lithe, with a body that reminded Eist of a dancer.

  Granted, a dancer who could beat almost everyone in their class in hand-to-hand combat, but the point still stood. She looked absolutely ravishing in her dark, burgundy dress, black accents to the garment that complemented her umber skin and halo of curls. She had borrowed some supplies from some of the other girls and had painted her lips a deep, dark garnet while lining her eyes with kohl. She had offered to help Eist with hers, but the thought of having a sharpened stick near her eye was nauseating.

  There was a knock on their door and Eist jumped, her heart in her throat.

  “It’s probably just Athar and Ain come to escort us,” Dille said calmly, sweeping over to the door. “Are you ready?”

  Eist swallowed and nodded. She wished that Yacrist was there to do that thing where he made everything less serious, but he had departed the night before to spend time with his family and finish preparations. It seemed that after all her time in the healer’s hall, she might have grown a little dependent.

  But then the door was opening, and both Ain and Athar were standing there, both of them dressed in formal tunics and clean leggings. They had shaved too, leaving their faces bare. Well, Athar had shaved. Ain’s visage was always flawlessly smooth and without shadow.

  “I hope you ladies are ready. I’d hate to—” Ain made a startled sort of sound as his eyes landed on them while Athar flushed a vibrant red beside him. That in turn made Eist color, and she found the entire situation utterly ridiculous.

  “Hello, gentleman,” Dille said, a smirk about her lips. “Come to escort us to the ball?”

  Ain seemed to recover quickly, but Athar’s face was locked into one of shock. “You two clean up nice.”

  “Do we?” Dille asked, lifting her palm and holding it out expectantly. It took all of them a moment to realize what she wanted, and Ain belatedly took her arm in his.

  “Yeah, I can actually tell you’re female now. Let me guess, your charming princeling bought you these?”

  “He’s not a prince,” Eist retorted quickly. “Rothaiche M’or doesn’t have a king.”

  “He’s close enough,” Ain said with a roll of his eyes. “And of course he’d want to dress you up like his little dolls. He seems like the type.”

  “Don’t,” she murmured softly. “It’s his nameday. We should be nice.” Even if Yacrist was a little bit silly sometimes, it was a sweet sort of silly. The kind who would send presents out to his friends for his own celebration and ask nothing for himself.

  Ain looked like he wanted to argue with her, but instead he sighed. “Fine. I’ll save all of my comments for tomorrow.”

  “Such a good sport,” Dille teased.

  “I’m nothing if not gracious.” He looked from Eist to Athar. “Well?” he asked. “Are you two coming or are you just going to stare at each other?”

  “I wasn’t staring,” Eist objected.

  She had been staring.

  It wasn’t her fault. Athar was so tall, so broad, and his face looked like it had been chiseled by her grandfather in his heyday. While she’d always noticed his formidable presence, it had never been so extreme before. Surely, she was just still getting used to the newer, bigger him.

  That was all.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you weren’t. Come on now, Athar. She won’t break if you touch her.”

  At that, Athar colored even more and offered his arm to her just like Ain had to Dille. Eist looked at it for a moment, noticing the thick cords of muscle along his forearms and the veins about his hands. If he wanted, he could probably break any of her bones with ease.

  And yet she knew he wouldn’t. Athar was one of the gentlest people she knew, which was decidedly ironic. So, she just took a breath and looped her own limb through Athar’s like it was no big deal.

  Oh…goodness, he made her arm look so small. “Lead away,” she managed to murmur without sounding like an idiot. Or at least, she hoped that she didn’t.

  Thankfully, they started moving, which helped quell the awkwardness between them. Just like he had said, there was a plain carriage waiting for them at the gates of the academy, just large enough for the four of them to pile into. Eist had the sneaking suspicion that the thing was supposed to be able to fit six, but between Ain’s long legs, her wide hips, and Athar’s…well, whole Athar-ness, they were fairly cramped.

  Eist wished that they could bring their dragons with them, but considering none of them had developed enough to fly to the Grand Palace directly but were too big to fit under the banquet tables without a fuss, it was better for them to stay behind.

  It wasn’t like they would be alone. They had her grandfather and all the other dragons, and Ale’a, but still…Fior and Eist hadn’t really been apart ever since he had been taken. It was hard not to worry that the absolute worst would happen if he wasn’t in her line of sight.

  They were rela
tively quiet as they trundled through the city. While the lower quarters were the same as ever, the closer they drew to the Grand Palace, the more decorations they began to spot. It wasn’t until they reached the point where flags and streamers were common that Ain spoke.

  “I haven’t celebrated a nameday since I was thirteen winters,” he muttered. “It seems like a terrible waste of time.”

  “I haven’t celebrated s-since before I met you,” Athar agreed.

  “Not since my parents were killed,” Eist added, grateful that all of them seemed to be equally uncomfortable and unfamiliar with such an event. Besides, even if any of them were regular celebrators of such things, she doubted very much that their namedays would be handled anything near how the son of the Lord of the House’s would be.

  “I don’t even know when my nameday is.”

  Eist looked to Dille, surprised. “You never told me that before.”

  She shrugged. “It never seemed relevant.”

  “Did you ever pick a day?” Ain asked much more smoothly from across the carriage.

  She nodded. “The first day of my memory. Before that, there’s just flashes, ideas. But I do remember smelling something good and wandering up to a firepit where several fisher-folk were cooking their dinner. They shared with me, kept my belly full, and let me stay with them until their next outing a few days later. I always considered that my first day of being me.”

  “So if you don’t know when you were born, how do you know how old you are?”

  She shrugged again. It was a habit they all were picking up, and Eist couldn’t rightly say who had started it after three years of being together. “I just know.”

  Eist wanted to press her further, something gnawing in the back of her mind that there was more to the story, but then the carriage was slowing to a stop and they had finally arrived.

  Ain stepped out like it was no problem, offering his arm to help Dille gracefully step onto the ground. Athar left next, giving Eist enough room to exit, but as she stood in the doorway of the carriage, she realized that the step down to the stool was quite a ways for her short little legs and she worried about damaging the dress.