by Jodi Meadows
Innumerable cries from Lex.
“Mira.” Elbena’s voice was firm. She still held her hand toward me.
Hating myself, I placed my work-callused hand in hers and allowed her to pull me into a brief hug. “Don’t do anything to jeopardize your freedom,” she murmured.
I gave a jolting nod, but couldn’t bring myself to give voice to assurances of my behavior. It was all I could do to keep my trembling at a minimum, and my tears caged inside me.
“Good.” Quickly, she smoothed my hair, straightened my dress, and pulled me around to survey the activity on the docks.
The burning galleon was half-drowned by now, and a terrible shrieking came from within. Not a shrieking of the ship, but something else. Something real. Something terrible.
I staggered forward, but a Luminary Guard held me back.
“Stay,” said Elbena. “It’s too late for them.”
“For them,” I repeated, like a question, though it wasn’t one. I already knew what she meant, and it made my voice tight and high. “How many dragons?”
“There were three aboard the Whitesell. I suppose the other two are lost now.” Disappointment filled her tone—the kind of upset that came from a bad investment or a burned meal. Like the loss of two dragons was simply an inconvenience that she’d have to deal with later.
Seven gods. What if the other two were LaLa and Crystal?
My knees gave out and I would have fallen to the ground again, but one of the Luminary Guards stepped forward to hold me up, and a spark of clarity hit. They weren’t LaLa and Crystal. The voices were too big, too loud to belong to anything other than a large species.
It was a cold comfort. Two dragons were dead. One was captured and on the verge of death.
I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand her. She felt none of this devastation for lives lost, but it was the only thing I could feel. All I could hear were the shrieks of the dragons burning and drowning within the ship.
The Great Abandonment threatened a catastrophe of tremors and landslides. Why didn’t the ground open now and swallow everything?
Right before my eyes, the Whitesell was sinking into the sea. A brigade had already put out fires on the neighboring ships and on the docks, while police and guards coordinated to secure Lex and push back the growing crowd of onlookers. Because of course people wanted to gawk at her suffering.
All the while, a Luminary Guard held me upright, and Elbena muttered under her breath. Already preparing how to deal with the inconvenience.
When Lex was sedated and the guards had the crowd under control, Elbena took my hand and strode forward.
“Here she is!” She lifted our fists into the air and let her voice ring out over the din of shocked cries and groaning wood. “The girl who stopped the beast from destroying the Shadowed City: Mira Minkoba!”
As one, the crowd turned to us and began to cheer. “It’s Mira!”
“The Hopebearer!”
“Look at her!”
“She charmed the dragon and saved us!”
Elbena looked at me askance. “Smile, Mira. You’re a hero now.” And then, when my expression didn’t change—couldn’t change—she gave me a little shake. “Smile, Mira. Or there will be consequences.”
I forced my mouth into the correct shape, but I couldn’t imagine anyone would mistake it for something real. Still, as long as I did what she ordered, maybe it didn’t matter.
“Why is Mira here?”
“Where is her family?”
“How did she know what to do with the dragon?”
“Why were there dragons on that ship?”
Distantly, I registered that those were good questions, and at least I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know all the answers.
“How did the dragon get out of the ship?”
Elbena held up her other hand to quiet the crowd. “We don’t have time for questions. All we can say right now is that these dragons were on their way to your local sanctuary as part of an interisland breeding program. Unfortunately, one mistook our intentions and escaped.”
People nodded.
How easily they accepted her lies. Elbena had long ago mastered that talent.
“Thank the Fallen Gods and the Upper Gods, too: Mira has extensive experience with dragons, and she was perfectly aware of what she was doing. As soon as Mira and I heard the crash, I sent her to calm the dragon, because I knew she was the only one here who could possibly accomplish such a feat.”
“She knows their hearts,” someone said. “Mira the Dragonhearted.”
“Yes!” Elbena shouted. “Mira the Hopebearer, and Mira the Dragonhearted!”
A dark chill ran through me as Lex drew my gaze once more. Rope bound her wings tightly to her sides. A steel muzzle caged her jaws—something that would never have been possible even a decan ago. But now that she was weakened by starvation, the metal held her teeth shut together—not that she tried to open her mouth and shoot fire anymore. She knew it was pointless. Her golden eyes had dulled into dim acceptance of my betrayal.
Like when Aaru discovered my identity.
I hurt everyone I cared about.
I wanted to scream that I hadn’t done this on purpose. That Elbena hadn’t wanted me to run toward Lex, and this was her effort to make the situation work in her favor. But Elbena squeezed my hand so tightly my bones rubbed together, and I forced my grimace into another smile.
“She saved the city! Mira the Dragonhearted saved the Shadowed City.”
The cries of joy went on and on, rising in fervor as the Whitesell sank deeper into the sea. As salt water quenched dragon fire. And as the voices of two dragons were silenced forever.
THE STORM ARRIVED and loosed its fury across the Isle of Shadow.
It was to the drum of rain and roar of thunder that we drove to a grand inn, which loomed over the water-shrouded street. Wind made palm trees dance and bow, and cold air seeped into the carriage through the windows, but when we pulled into the drive, Elbena held up a hand.
“Wait.” She nodded at the Luminary Guard who’d been sitting next to me. “Make sure everything is secure.”
The Luminary Guard unfolded himself and opened the door, admitting a gust of stinging rain into the carriage. And then, the rush was cut off, leaving Elbena and me alone in the dim space.
“This is going to change things,” Elbena muttered, almost inaudible under the storm.
I could hardly breathe for the numbness creeping through my body. From the cold rain. From the sight of the ship sinking. From the memory of Lex in chains.
I’d done that. Maybe I hadn’t physically put the muzzle on her, or captured her in the net, but without my interference she might have gone away from the city—toward freedom, rather than toward me.
“Is this why you brought me here?” My voice sounded scraped away. Hollow. “Did you bring me here to name me a savior of the people while I watched dragons die?”
A smile twisted up her face. “I brought you here to give a speech. Do you recall giving a speech while you watched dragons die?”
Strength through silence. I desperately wanted the kind of strength Aaru displayed, but he had a lifetime of practice and I had a lifetime of doing as I was told.
“But I suppose,” she went on, “anything is possible. You think I’m some sort of monster now, and perhaps a monster would arrange for a dragon to escape its confines just at the moment of your arrival.”
The shipping order I’d seen had given the Shadowed City as one of the locations where dragons would be, but the transport ship should have left over two decans ago. So why were they still here? Or rather, why were only some of them here?
Elbena wore a faint smirk as she watched me struggle to decipher her intentions.
I dropped my eyes to my hands and forced my expression neutral, though even thinking the word dragon made hot tears swell in my eyes.
“Tomorrow is a big day.” Elbena leaned back in her seat. “Your speech will be given at a st
ate dinner in the evening, so you’ll spend the day preparing. Hair, face, clothes—everything. It will be just like before, though your mistress of beauty won’t be here. The inn has a wonderful staff that will assist you in her absence. I’m sure you don’t mind.”
My heart squeezed at the thought of Krasimir, but of course she wasn’t here. She was too sympathetic to me. “When will you give me the speech?”
“It will be waiting for you in your room. Councilor Bilyana will have brought it when she arrived in Bopha on last night’s tide. Your speechwriter sent it with her so that she could have a couple extra days to finalize it.” She leaned forward. “It’s a delicate thing, you understand. We needed to make sure every word was perfect. And if you have any questions, we can talk about it tomorrow.”
“What will the speech say?”
She shook her head. “We’ll discuss that tomorrow.”
Dimly, I knew that denying me answers was another method of controlling me. Maybe she had arranged for Lex’s escape, and the deaths of the two on the ship. I wouldn’t put it past her. Not since learning of the council’s involvement with the disappearance of dragons. Or, if not involvement, concealment for sure.
“You said if I give the speech tomorrow, then I’ll be set free from the Pit.”
“Yes, although I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed that you knew your good behavior was also a factor.” She gave me an annoyed look. “You aren’t as necessary to the council as you think. We could easily elevate another pretty face to replace you.” Her lips curled up. “Unfortunately, prison time doesn’t seem to agree with your pretty face.”
Her blow to my vanity stung.
Before I could devote any more thought to it, someone pounded on the carriage, and a Luminary Guard opened the door. Quickly, I was shuffled into the inn. The space was dim and quiet, save the inconsistent number of Luminary Guards prowling through the parlor as though searching for threats.
Without stopping to greet the owners, Elbena took me to a room upstairs. Before we could enter, yet another Luminary Guard emerged.
Above the white mask, his eyes darted first to me, then to Elbena. “It’s clear.”
My heart stopped. I knew that voice.
“Thank you,” Elbena said.
The Luminary Guard bowed and started toward the stairs. He didn’t look back.
Elbena nudged me toward the open door. “In you go.”
“Where are you staying?” My words sounded breathless. I could barely form them around the pounding of my heart.
She smiled sweetly. “Down the hall. You’re on your own tonight, but there will be guards outside your door and window. Everything is locked and I’m the only one with the keys. I hope you’ll behave.”
I gave her a look that just oozed obedience, and when I stepped inside the room and shut the door, I barely paid attention when the lock turned behind me with a heavy clunk.
Instead, I was thinking of the miracle that had just occurred. The barest eye contact. The timbre of his voice. The mask pulled tight against his dark skin.
Hristo.
BEFORE
Five Years Ago
WHEN I WAS TWELVE, I PROPOSED MARRIAGE TO HRISTO.
It was a dragon day. Ilina and I were hunting small game in the sanctuary, near the ruins. LaLa perched on my glove, her wings pulled open to catch the sunshine, while Ilina and Crystal took their turn. LaLa and I had already finished for the day.
Ahead, Crystal had just caught a rabbit, and Ilina was rewarding her with a treat—in trade for the dragon giving up the rabbit. Sometimes this worked. Other times, they realized this wasn’t a fair trade and set their kills on fire instead.
“It makes sense, right?” I kept my smile bright, even as the number of my steps ticked away in the back of my head.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” His lowered his voice. “Why would we get married?”
“When we’re older,” I clarified.
“But why?”
I couldn’t believe I had to explain this. “I have two best friends. You and Ilina. When it comes to potential marriage partners, I’m reasonably certain I like boys, and you’re my favorite boy.” Plus, he’d saved my life when I was seven, and he always carried LaLa’s kills for me. If that didn’t qualify him to be a great husband, I couldn’t imagine what would. (At twelve, I hadn’t considered that being in love with someone might also factor into my decision.)
He scanned the ruins for danger that was never there. “Why are you thinking about this now?”
“Mother received five inquiries regarding my matrimonial future.” Just thinking about it made my chest tight with worry.
“Any she’s taking seriously?”
“I don’t want to risk finding out.”
Hristo scratched his chin. “Why do you think she’ll marry you off if you don’t get there first? Everyone on Damina gets to choose. This isn’t Idris.”
Because I never chose anything. Not my clothes, my hair, my food. Nothing small. Nothing big. Nothing important. Everyone on Damina got to choose—except for me.
“Besides,” Hristo went on, “I’m a servant. What would the Luminary Council say if you married a Hartan boy?”
“We’re past that now. The Mira Treaty—”
“Harta may be independent. The treaty might say we’re equal. But that doesn’t make it true.” He stopped walking and gazed down at me, almost sadly. “You’re better than me. Your mother says so all the time.”
“She says I’m better than everyone, but she can’t mean it. I’m not smart. I don’t rescue people. I don’t do anything but dress up and stand where she tells me. That doesn’t make me better.”
“Your status makes you better.” His jaw clenched. “Your upbringing. Your ancestors. The place where you were born. Your parents. The treaty named after you. The title of Hopebearer. All of that makes you better.”
But none of it was anything I’d done. I didn’t understand. Which just made me feel more stupid and unworthy.
“I’ll protect you,” he said. “I’ll be your friend. But I won’t marry you. Ever.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HRISTO WAS HERE IN BOPHA.
My heart swelled as I recalled the way he’d glanced at me, like warning, like assurance, like—
Like my protector was finally here, and everything was going to be all right. Oh, Damina, I couldn’t wait to see him again. Even the smallest glimpse would be enough to sustain me for a month.
I leaned against the door, basking in the knowledge that Hristo had been right here. And deeper in the room—likely checking under the tall bed, inside the mahogany wardrobe, behind the floor-length curtains made of brocade silk. The room was the colors of the moons, white with gold highlights, and definitely expensive.
Twelve noorestones stood in gilt sconces on the walls (three on each wall), all with black velvet covers draped along the backs.
So this would not be like the Pit, where noorestones were silenced by some mysterious Idrisi. Here, I was the master of light. I could cover the stones or not. I could cover all but one.
The relief drained out of me when I saw the sheet of paper resting on one of the embroidered pillows.
The speech.
The opportunity to leave the Pit forever, abandoning Aaru, Gerel, Chenda, Tirta, and the rest of them.
The way people had named me Dragonhearted for my betrayal of Lex.
Curiosity drew my eyes toward the page again, but I couldn’t go to it yet. I needed to steady my thoughts.
A lidded tray sat on a three-legged table made of carved mahogany wood. I pushed myself off the door and took five paces toward it. Under the silver dome, I found a huge, hot meal. Slices of roast boar, with onions and garlic and honey tucked over and around them. Steamed carrots. Tiny potatoes. Set away from the hot food, there was a small bowl of chocolate-dipped strawberries, a pitcher of chilled water, and a glass of red wine.
I hadn’t seen so much food since I was arrested. This would be
a feast for the first level. Aaru would—
My chest tightened and I started to count the noorestones again, but shifted to the wooden panels on the wall instead; for all the light they gave, there was a dark side to noorestones that I could never forget.
Numb, I sat at the table and ate. I forced myself to chew slowly, twenty times for every mouthful.
Only when I finished eating did I take the sheet of paper from my pillow.
This part used to be so comforting. It had always seemed that my speechwriter—a brilliant woman named Kahina—never struggled to find the right words. She’d kept me from vomiting whatever inane thought passed through my head. She’d saved me from humiliating social gaffes.
But now, as I read her delicate hand, a chill crept through me. These were not words I wanted to speak. To think. To know.
It was late, and the storm raged across the Shadowed City, but restlessness clawed at me. So I roamed the space, counting my footsteps, hoping Hristo would come. Maybe he had a plan, some kind of news about anything that mattered. Maybe my parents had sent him, since they couldn’t come themselves. Maybe he had a way to spirit me away from this awful place.
He was in disguise. Regardless of his motive and method for being here, he’d hidden his identity and needed me to play along. I’d learn the truth as soon as he was able to tell me; I just had to be patient.
Voices carried from the hall. They were too low for me to understand, but loud enough that I knew Hristo would not be able to come.
Again, a prisoner. This time with a nicer cell.
Had I ever not been a prisoner? The Luminary Council had always kept me like this, under close watch, under careful guard. I used to think it was because I was precious to them. Now I realized the cell had always been there, just invisible.
I hated the grim acceptance that settled inside me, but I was no heroine in a story. I was not the kind of girl who could leap from her window, dash through the stormy city, and disappear into the wilds. I couldn’t commandeer a ship and sail . . . somewhere. I couldn’t do anything but obey commands.
A pendulum clock tick-tocked on the wall; it was late. I moved around the room covering the noorestones with the squares of black velvet, blocking their cool blue light. Nine, ten, eleven.
