Before She Ignites

by Jodi Meadows

  DEDICATION

  For the ones who refuse to be silenced

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  The Mira Treaty

  Before

  Part One: Unity in Darkness Chapter One

  Before

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Before

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Before

  Chapter Seven

  Before

  Chapter Eight

  Before

  Chapter Nine

  Part Two: Affinity for Dragons Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Before

  Chapter Twelve

  Before

  Chapter Thirteen

  Before

  Chapter Fourteen

  Before

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Before

  Chapter Eighteen

  Part Three: Equality in Shadows Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Before

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Before

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Part Four: Articles of Light Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Acknowledgments

  Back Ad

  About the Author

  Books by Jodi Meadows

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  THE MIRA TREATY

  the second day

  of the month of Moracan

  in the 2187th year

  of the Fallen Gods

  PREAMBLE

  The following agreement, between the six island-nations of the Fallen Isles, who are our gods

  Anahera, the Destroyer

  Bopha, the Shadow

  Damyan and Darina, the Lovers

  Harta, the Daughter

  Idris, the Silent

  Khulan, the Warrior

  represents peace and unity among all who follow the Fallen Gods, equality among the people, and a renewed devotion to the children of the gods.

  On this day, as a collection of nations, we, the representatives of the people of the Fallen Isles, bow to the one true authority, the light of Noore, and acknowledge our devotion.

  For we have too long permitted imbalance and suffering, the exploitation of our resources, and the folly of inaction. We have denied intrinsic freedoms and abused what should be protected. We have ignored the sacrosanct laws between mortal and divine, and have put ourselves at risk for abandonment by the gods we should most honor and protect.

  This decree signifies our conviction to make the Fallen Isles into a good and holy place, with respect to the Upper Gods and the Fallen Gods. It signifies our acceptance of the peril of unforgivable conflict, should any party fail to uphold these tenets. It signifies our willingness to enforce the terms by actions deemed appropriate within the text of this covenant.

  In the name of a child born this day, who shall be the bearer of our hopes, and with understanding that we sign this agreement for her and all the future of the Fallen Isles, we make this pledge.

  PART 1: UNITY

  Article 1: Trade among the islands

  Article 2: Borders and neutral international waters

  Article 3: Assurance of assistance

  PART 2: DRAGONS

  Article 4: Cease of ownership

  Article 5: Drakon Warrior disbandment

  Article 6: Relocation to sanctuaries

  Article 7: Study, observation, and breeding

  PART 3: EQUALITY

  Article 8: Harta as an independently governed island

  Article 9: Hartan exports and tariffs

  Article 10: Economic stabilization

  PART 4: MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES

  Article 11: Reparations

  Article 12: Prohibited acts

  Article 13: Failure to uphold the treaty

  I shouldn’t have told the truth.

  But I did.

  BEFORE

  Sarai 15, 2204 FG

  THE LAST DAY OF MY REAL LIFE BEGAN WITH DISASTER.

  The ground gave a brief jerk, and everything shifted: a glass of water, the large family portrait, and my soul when I thought about all the lives affected by the abrupt movement of the world.

  Less than an hour after the incident, I was placed before a crowd assembled outside the white-columned council house, a sheet of paper clutched in my hands. Councilors Elbena and Bilyana stood at my sides, two pillars of strength and authority, but every eye was trained on me.

  “There she is.” A woman lifted a small girl to see. “Hopebearer.”

  “Mira Minkoba. The Mira.”

  “She looks beautiful.”

  I tried not to smile, though the compliment pleased me. Immediately after the tremor, Mother had sent me upstairs to don a coral-colored dress, with thin straps that left my shoulders bare to the summer sun; already, my skin prickled and warmed into a deeper shade of brown. My maid had unpinned my hair so that it fell in long, loose waves, then crowned me with a wreath of lala flowers that Mother said reminded everyone of my youth and innocence. The effort to straighten my hair was wasted, though; humidity was already bringing the curls back to life.

  Then another girl said, “I want to be her.”

  My expression of detached pleasantness faltered and I dropped my eyes to the paper I’d been given. The words were there. All I had to do was use them.

  I drew a steadying breath and counted. Twenty people in the front row. Twice that in the second. Twelve columns on this face of the council house. At last, my thoughts calmed.

  “People of Crescent Prominence.” I cleared my expression of everything but what was appropriate for the occasion of delivering distantly upsetting news. “The tremor you felt earlier is reported to have come from Idris. We felt it here; it must have been incredibly disrupting there.”

  Most people glanced westward, probably thinking of the immense space between our islands. Idris was on the far side of the Fallen Isles, shaped like a man bent over in prayer or anguish. The Silent Brothers ruled there, keeping the people almost completely isolated. They traded little. They traveled less. I couldn’t imagine how they’d recover from an earthquake that big.

  “Is there a landslide threat?” A woman held her palms against her chest as if to ease the pounding of her heart.

  I glanced at the paper, even though I’d read it already. “It’s the rainy season there, so a landslide is likely. There’s a wave threat as well. All the western islands are under watch.” That excluded us. Damina was the easternmost Fallen Isle.

  “Is there anything we can do for them?” a man asked.

  The Mira Treaty meant all islands were required to provide aid in times of crisis, but it was the way of our gods to offer help without being asked.

  “That’s uncertain.” I consulted the paper again. The words written there fit easily into my mouth. “The Silent Brothers may decline assistance, as they have in the past.”

  I’d met a Silent Brother only once, and the interaction had been brief. He hadn’t been unfriendly, but I’d gotten the impression that Brother Ilyas disapproved. Of me. Of the treaty my father had written. Of Damina and all the other islands. Of everything.


  “What if their government doesn’t accept our help?” someone asked. “We can’t just let their people suffer.”

  “I’m afraid we won’t have a choice.” Because The Book of Love said that loving our neighbors meant staying out of their business when they didn’t want us, we had to accept it. “The Mira Treaty does not permit unwanted assistance. That would be invasion, not aid.”

  The people shifted uncomfortably. No one liked to hear that their attempts to do good could actually be harmful.

  A breeze lifted across the square, carrying the scents of fresh rice bread and spiced cloudfish. Palm trees rustled and swayed, and in the distance, waves crashed on the rocky cliffs. Goats bleated from farms and the nearby marketplace, and Water Street bustled with carriages and foot traffic. It was hard to reconcile the peace of Crescent Prominence with the devastation happening in another part of the world.

  I closed my eyes and imagined children covered in dust and debris, tears making muddy tracks down their cheeks. I imagined men and women struggling to lift rubble off their neighbors. I imagined others searching for loved ones, only to find bodies whose spirits had already evacuated.

  “We will offer assistance.” I glanced at Councilor Elbena, who disguised a nod by tucking a tightly curled strand of hair behind her ear. The golden sunburst pendant on her throat shimmered in the midmorning light, bright against the umber of her skin. “As for whether the Silent Brothers accept—we can only pray they do.”

  My paper held the answers to a few more of their questions, and finally, I stepped aside while High Priest Valko said a prayer to Damyan and Darina, the god and goddess of love.

  “Give us peace. Give us grace. Give us enough love in our hearts.”

  An incredible quiet surrounded his voice; only the sounds of breathing, seagulls calling, and clothes rustling in the wind touched the square. Distantly, human activity hummed along, and life proceeded as though this was the only moment that mattered.

  That was an uncharitable thought. Life couldn’t halt everywhere because of a tragedy in one place. But oh, my heart hurt for people I’d never know, in places I’d never see.

  High Priest Valko finished with a blessing, echoed by everyone in attendance: “By the Upper Gods who stayed in the stars, and the Fallen Gods who came to Noore, we offer our thanks. Cela, cela.”

  With those words, my part in this disaster was finished. I returned to Elbena and Bilyana.

  “Wonderful,” Elbena said, hugging me. “The Luminary Council is so fortunate to have you ready to speak for us, Mira. Thank you for continuing to put the Mira Treaty first in your life.”

  I’d never been given a choice about it, but Elbena’s approval was always welcome. She was such an admirable person, always willing to help and inspire. Only ten years older than me, she already held one of the highest positions in Damina. I liked her ambition.

  When they finished complimenting my execution of duties, I approached my parents, who were waiting near the council house door. Anticipation simmered within me.

  “Well done,” Father said. “You’ll make a fine politician one day.”

  I didn’t want to be a politician, and it seemed there must be more to such a career than reading someone else’s words off a paper, but I soaked in his praise because he so rarely noticed how hard I tried.

  “You performed adequately.” Mother tilted my chin upward and inspected my face for flaws. Satisfied, she gave a brief nod and stepped back. “And you looked stunning. That dress is perfect on you.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” Adequately. I’d never live up to her expectations, but at least I performed adequately. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to visit the sanctuary.” My hunting gear waited in the carriage.

  She blew out an annoyed breath, but motioned at Hristo, who’d kept to the background during my speech. “Go on if you must. Don’t get your clothes dirty.”

  Hristo rubbed his chin. It was a habit that betrayed his frustration with my parents, not that he would ever admit that out loud. He was my best friend, but he was also my personal guard, and he felt it was unprofessional to air such grievances to me; I’d heard said grievances from Ilina, the third member of our friendship trio. She was already at the sanctuary, and I couldn’t wait to see her.

  When we were alone, moving toward my blue and silver carriage, Hristo’s quiet broke and he smiled at me. “Ready for dragons?”

  My soul lightened. “I am always ready for dragons.”

  AFTER I CHANGED into my hunting gear, Hristo and I drove to the sanctuary.

  An enormous wall protected it, closing in an immense space of land that stretched from the Skyfell Mountains to the sea. The wall was seventeen stories high—not high enough to prevent dragons from flying over, but most understood that it was for their safety. The dragons stayed by choice.

  We passed through a huge stone gate, the words Luminary Department of Drakontos Examination: North Entrance carved into block letters above the arch. As always, my heart soared at the sight. I couldn’t believe I was allowed here. With dragons. With LaLa.

  As the carriage came to a stop, Ilina emerged from one of the blocky buildings that made up the department facilities.

  “Did you feel the earthquake?” she asked as Hristo and I walked toward her. “The drakarium residents were shrieking for an hour this morning before it hit. They knew it was coming.”

  “Are they all right now?” I lifted the hem of my hunting dress off the ground as we headed toward the drakarium, where LaLa and Crystal waited.

  “It’s like they’ve already forgotten about it.” Ilina wore the uniform of a sanctuary apprentice: a linen shirt and pants, dyed in gradients of browns and greens. Gold thread glittered on the high collar and cuffs, embroidered to look like dragons bellowing flame. She’d strapped a small pack over her shoulders, filled with all the necessary supplies an apprentice might need when making the rounds.

  It was a nice uniform. Practical. One I’d be proud to wear. Unfortunately, Mira Minkoba did not wear practical clothes, though the hunting gear Seamstress Nadya had designed for me was at least somewhat better suited to the terrain of the dragon sanctuary. Rather than silk, I wore fine Idrisi cotton. Always a dress, but with matching leggings and calf-high boots. Different colors every day, of course; today was peach with green accents. And though it was hot and uncomfortable, a reinforced collar went high up my neck.

  A roar of draconic voices sounded as we crested a small hill, and the drakarium came into view.

  I’d always thought the drakarium had to be one of the most impressive structures ever created, its slender bones built from darkened noorestones. Seven different habitats grew along a spiral path, with a natural spring bubbling in the center. There were no walls, exactly; the building wasn’t meant to keep dragons in, but to provide a safe place for smaller species to live and get the social interaction they needed.

  Ten dragons soared above and around the drakarium, squawking and calling as they played a complicated game of chase, made even more incredible by the fact that there were three different species in the game. Drakontos quintus, mons, and aquis, identifiable by the shapes of their wings, the size of their scales, and the width of their jaws.

  Scales of every color flashed in the sunshine, a marvelous sight that only a few people would ever be able to see.

  LaLa and Crystal were Drakontos raptuses, the smallest species, which lived on the rocky cliffs of eastern Damina. I knew the way to their nest in the drakarium, but Ilina’s parents didn’t like for humans to go in there often. It was rude, they said, to enter another creature’s habitat without permission.

  So as the three of us approached, Ilina and I both gave sharp whistles and clicks, and by the time we put on our protective gauntlets, the pair of Drakontos raptuses circled above us: one silver, one gold. Sisters, like the moons.

  I lifted my gloved fingers. The golden dragon flipped and dived at me, spreading her bright wings wide at the last moment as she landed on my hand with a
thump. Her talons dug in as I drew her toward me. “Good afternoon, little lizard.” I kissed the top of her head.

  She lifted her face, bumping her nose against mine.

  I laughed and stroked the bony ridge down her head and neck, careful to move with the scales. Like cats, dragons didn’t like to be petted the wrong way. And Drakontos raptuses had sharp-tipped scales that could slice open tender human skin. Mother had worried that I’d cut myself on her, or that she’d hurt me on purpose. But Mother didn’t understand that LaLa wasn’t a pet; she was a friend, and I was born for being with dragons.

  “I love you, sweet dragon,” I whispered.

  Hristo strode toward us to greet LaLa, who immediately straightened her spine and gave a throaty purr. He rewarded her with a small bite of dried meat, which she devoured instantly.

  Besides Ilina and me, Hristo was their favorite person. Probably because he said hello with food.

  This moment. Right here. I had my two best friends and my two favorite dragons, and everything was perfect.

  But I should have known better than to get comfortable. The next disaster was about to begin.

  PART ONE

  UNITY IN DARKNESS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sarai 29, 2204 FG

  FIVE WARRIORS LED ME INTO THE PIT, DOWN A NARROW, spiraling staircase. Deeper, deeper into the ground. Closer to Khulan.

  Thirty-five. Thirty-six. Thirty-seven. I counted each step as I descended. Mother would be so disappointed.

  Forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five.

  I kept my eyes down, deliberately placing my slippered toes on the stair below before committing my weight. With the endless spiral drilling deeper, and my wrists shackled tightly behind my back, it’d be too easy to lose my balance.

  Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine.

  Down, down we went. The air grew cooler and sharper with the scent of sweat and mildew and waste. Tears flooded my eyes.

  Ninety-nine. One hundred. One hundred one.