Legends of the Sky

by Liz Flanagan

  She didn’t dare move. With one hand, she cupped Iggie’s head, while the other supported his tail.

  “Whatever anyone else might think …” he tried again. “That is, this dragon …” He reached out a finger and touched Iggie’s back.

  She licked her dry lips. “Iggie, Your Grace.”

  She wasn’t keen on that hungry look in the duke’s eyes, but she stood her ground, even though her skin itched at his proximity. Of all the things that had happened since last night, this felt the most unreal. She was standing here, talking to the duke himself about what her dragon needed.

  “Iggie, then. He chose you.” He uttered each word slowly and clearly, as if she were a very young child. “Do you want him to have the best care?”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” she whispered.

  “Then he needs to stay here. Where else can the dragons be hidden, for their own protection?”

  “Hidden? But—” Milla began, watching her dreams of introducing Iggie to Josi, Thom, and Rosa fade like sea mist. Instead, she would live here at the palace, among all this luxury. “I mean, thank you,” she breathed.

  “It’s clear that the dragons must stay here,” Olvar said. “The dragons need you. You stay here, too.”

  “Is it? Clear to whom, Olvar?” Nestan spoke up. He left Richal Finn and walked over to Milla and the twins, his cane tapping lightly on the polished floor. “We thank you for your generous offer of hospitality, but these are my children, and they are free citizens of Arcosi, I think.”

  “Excuse me, Your Grace,” Tarya asked, with a quick look at her father. “Are you inviting us to stay? Or are you saying we can’t leave?”

  Nestan gently laid one hand on her shoulder, next to Heral’s red back, lending his support to his daughter’s words.

  Clearly unused to being questioned, Duke Olvar glared at Tarya. He cleared his throat, with a deep, guttural cough. “As I said, overnight, everything has changed, whether we like it or not. And we must change, too, if we are to protect these precious dragons that have been given into our care.”

  “Given?” Tarya cried, then realized who she was speaking to. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but didn’t my father tell you? Someone died for these eggs. Someone gave their life to keep them safe.”

  “And that happened very conveniently on the property that you’re so eager to return to, Nestan,” the duke said, smooth as silk now. “Maybe you have other plans for the dragons? Maybe you always did?” He took a step toward Nestan, then another, so they were facing each other and the tension crackled between them. “Did anyone actually see this mysterious victim?”

  Milla blinked. Instead of watching the duke and Nestan standing head-to-head, she was lost in her memories, seeing the cloaked man slumping forward in a pool of blood.

  “Or perhaps you bought these eggs on one of your trading trips and forgot to mention it?” the duke suggested.

  Milla dipped her chin over Iggie’s head, as if she could protect him from the words tossed back and forth.

  “Of course not. Did I not bring them straight to you?” Nestan said curtly, matching Duke Olvar’s stare. “Have I ever given you reason to doubt my loyalty?”

  Olvar’s gaze shifted to Nestan’s left leg before he could help it, and he flushed.

  Nestan’s injury was a constant reminder to the world of his loyalty to Duke Olvar, and the high cost of that loyalty.

  “Don’t ask me why the man chose to deliver the eggs to us,” Nestan went on. “No doubt he was expecting to find the original inhabitants in my house. And we do have a witness. Isn’t that right, Milla?”

  She jumped.

  “Is that true?” Richal Finn’s head snapped up and he stared at her in surprise. She looked down, cheeks warm, praying no one mentioned the rest of the story. The duke wouldn’t like the part about hiding the eggs.

  “Well, then perhaps we should be thanking you, for finding the eggs and returning them to their true home. Where they belong. Where they will stay.” Olvar’s tone turned steely.

  “Very well,” Nestan told Olvar, “but I am trusting you to protect them. All of them: all four children, and all four dragons. If anything happens … to any of them”—he flicked a quick glance at Milla—“I will hold you responsible.”

  “Nestan, old friend.” Olvar’s tone changed entirely, as if they hadn’t just been growling at each other. He stepped in to shake his hand. “We’re family now. You don’t even need to ask.”

  Milla whispered to Iggie, “Hear that, my love? We’re staying.” Her fingertips lightly stroked his scales, as she looked up at the turret roof of the library, so high above them, at the shafts of golden light slanting down. She felt like a princess in a fairy tale, waking up to a new life. Somewhere deep down, there was a niggle of unease, like a thorn in the sole of her shoe. Like a pea under her mattress. She chose to ignore it. This is where the dragons belonged. Surely she could learn to belong here, too?

  For Iggie’s sake, she had to try.

  Milla was dragged from her dream like a fish hooked from the sea. She surfaced, gasping.

  “Ouch!”

  She’d been dreaming of sitting in Josi’s kitchen, drinking cinnamon-spiced coffee, sweet and bitter at the same time. The dream faded, leaving a faint aftertaste of homesickness.

  Iggie was sitting on her chest, needling her skin with his claws, like a cat. He blinked his green eyes to greet her.

  “Iggie!” she murmured in delight, half-convinced she was still dreaming.

  Her dragon was perfect. His scales gleamed. Each one was squarish, outlined in darker blue flowing down his back like a beautiful tessellated mosaic. His wings were smooth dark sapphire, folded away like bundled silk. He clawed her again, gently.

  “I’m awake! Stop it.” She peered up, and he leaned over to drag half a carcass of roast chicken a little nearer. “Oh, thanks, Ig. Did you bring me breakfast?” She burst out laughing. “You’re getting so strong: it’s nearly as big as you!”

  He flicked his tail from side to side and hissed at her, proudly.

  Her heart swelled with love at the sight of him. Seeing him, touching him, being with him: it made everything feel right. She felt stronger and happier than she had ever been, as if there was a kind of power that spread from Iggie to her and back again.

  “Aren’t you hungry? You have this. I think I prefer bread.” She sat up, shredded the meat and fed it to him, smiling as he growled and shook little pieces before he swallowed them. “Look at you, getting big and sleek. Am I feeding you too much? How would I know—you’re not going to tell me, are you, greedy dragon?”

  He just pawed her hand for more meat.

  She wished she knew more. She felt drawn to find dragonlore, like a compass needle seeking north. She had been yearning to see Kara again, to say thank you. She couldn’t wait to introduce her to Iggie and see what she would say.

  Iggie finished eating and sneezed, breaking into her thoughts. He jumped down from her bunk, already nimble and astonishingly fast.

  They’d moved into the dragonhall a week ago, once it was clear that baby dragons would smash anything that wasn’t fastened down. Milla was adjusting to the comforts of her life here quicker than she could have imagined. She drew back the curtains of her bunk and hopped out after him.

  In the center of the dragonhall, like the hub of a wheel, there was a huge cylindrical brick oven that burned night and day, with a perch for the dragons spiraling around it. The high ceiling was inlaid with colored tiles.

  There were two entrances: the main double doors standing open to let sunlight in, and the secret back door concealed behind a wall hanging. Milla had found it on the day they moved in, but she didn’t tell anyone. That would have meant confessing that she’d seen Kara use it to escape on the night of the duke’s ball. For her sake, she kept it quiet. But how did Kara know of the secret door?

  “Morning, Milla.” Isak and Vigo were drinking coffee: the smell must have crept into her dream.

  “Mo
rning.” Milla flashed a wide grin toward them and helped herself from a basket of fresh rolls. Still warm, and she hadn’t even had to knead the dough herself. Or chop the wood. Or build the fire. She bit into the fresh bread, gratefully.

  Tarya came out to join them, yawning.

  “What’s wrong?” Milla asked as soon as she saw her face. For days, Tarya had seemed restless, like a tethered beast testing the limits of its chain. “Is it Heral?”

  But Heral was peacefully snoozing, his red snout resting on Petra’s green back.

  “Heral’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.” Tarya glanced quickly at Vigo. “All this is so wonderful.”

  Milla couldn’t believe the speed with which the duke had organized everything: builders, carpenters, tailors. All sworn to secrecy and paid double to be sure. She smoothed her blue silk nightclothes with her free hand: still marveling at their quality.

  “It’s just …” Tarya’s voice faded out. She put her head in her hands, scratching through her curly mass of golden hair. Living indoors, her tanned skin had faded to a pale cream, and she had violet shadows under her eyes from waking in the night to feed Heral.

  “Do you miss your dad?” Milla asked Tarya gently, giving her a quick sideways hug. “I miss Josi. I was just dreaming of her.”

  “Yes, that must be it. I’m fine,” Tarya said stiffly. “Don’t listen to me.” She helped herself absently to a bread roll and started pulling it apart.

  Milla watched as Iggie climbed onto the roost and wrapped his blue neck around Belara’s gold one.

  Prrt? he greeted Belara, ears pricked in welcome.

  “Hey, Iggie,” Isak said. “Look at them. They’re friends, aren’t they?”

  Milla spoke with her mouth full. “Uh-huh. I think Belara is his favorite.”

  “Well, your Ig has very good taste,” Isak told her.

  Milla and Isak chatted easily about their dragons’ latest tricks. Milla was glad to see she could still make him laugh with her impression of Iggie stalking pieces of chicken.

  Isak opened his arms, like wings, coming to swoop after her.

  Milla pounced on him, mimicking Iggie, and they fell in the sawdust, giggling.

  Just then, a dark shadow fell across the floor between the open doors of the dragonhall.

  “Good morning.” Duke Olvar’s voice was loud and disapproving.

  “Your Grace!” Isak stopped laughing, rolled to his feet, seized his dragon from her perch, and went over to greet the duke, with Belara in his arms.

  If he had a tail, he’d be wagging it, like a puppy trying to please a new master, Milla thought. She scrambled up, too, brushing the sawdust from her nightclothes.

  “How is she today?” the duke was asking Isak.

  “She’s fine. See?” Isak lifted Belara up. The golden dragon had long, elegant ears and her green eyes were more almond-shaped than Iggie’s. Now she twisted her head away from the duke as if he smelled bad.

  Milla bit her lip so she wouldn’t laugh.

  “How many times did you feed her last night?” the duke asked.

  “Three times, Your Grace. Her appetite increases every day …” Isak and Duke Olvar discussed every detail of Belara’s diet, while the others waited.

  “Well done, Isak,” Olvar said eventually, laying an approving hand on his shoulder.

  Isak looked delighted, but Belara started crawling over Isak’s shoulder, determined to escape the duke’s inspection.

  Tarya snorted. Then she met Vigo’s eyes, and the two of them started shaking with stifled laughter.

  The duke noticed and spun around, scowling.

  “Hear me, all of you. This is a serious business, no laughing matter.” Olvar’s glance moved around the hall, lingering over each dragon. “These dragons are our only concern. Put them first. Forget all else. You aren’t here for your amusement.” He glared at Milla. “You are here for the dragons. And you have work to do.”

  They all froze where they stood, like guilty children caught raiding the honey jar.

  The duke didn’t understand. Milla didn’t need to be told to care for Iggie: it came as naturally as breathing. She bent down to stroke his bright blue head with one finger. This love felt new and so powerful, it scared her. Rising up, with deep certainty, were feelings stronger than anything she had known before. She would fight for him. She would kill to defend him. Already she knew, without doubt, that she would die for him.

  “We know, Your Grace,” Isak said. “We’ll get straight back to the library, as soon as the dragons have eaten—”

  “Wait a moment,” Vigo objected. “Why do you get to tell us what’s best for our dragons?”

  Milla held her breath as Vigo challenged his father, but Tarya was watching him with something like admiration in her gaze.

  “Aren’t they worth it?” Duke Olvar snapped. “Are you so reckless and ungrateful you’d risk your dragon’s life? What if Petra falls ill? How will you know what to do?”

  “Of course they’re worth it. Of course we’ll keep reading.” Vigo raised his voice. “But we’re not lazing around out here. We’re caring for them. We’re feeding them. We’re playing with them—don’t they need that, too?” he finished.

  “Did you find a scroll saying that?” Olvar asked, looking down his nose at his son.

  “What if the scrolls don’t have all the answers?” Vigo retorted. “What if you trusted us to know what our dragons need?”

  “I suppose they need you to roll around in the sawdust, too?” Olvar snapped. “Ignoring them?”

  That wasn’t fair! Milla hadn’t been ignoring Iggie—she’d just fed him!

  “Get dressed and get to work.” The duke turned and walked out of the dragonhall.

  There was a long silence.

  Tarya put a hand on Vigo’s arm, making him jump. She smiled at him reassuringly, but he was still frowning at his father’s interruption.

  “It’s only because he cares about the dragons,” Isak said eventually.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Milla sighed. The thought of the library made her feel daunted. “I’ll do my part. It’s just”—she felt ashamed as she confessed—“I can’t read as fast as you.”

  “It is slow going,” Isak said. “Too slow.”

  “How can you say that? You’re the fastest!” Tarya told her twin, with an edge that made Milla wonder if she minded not being the best, for once.

  “Still,” Isak said, “it’s going to take us years to get through all those books. We should get back to it.”

  Milla looked at the dragons, drowsing now on the perch in the warmth of the stove. Kara had been so clear in her advice about the eggs, perhaps she would know more about dragons than a dusty old book? Was she still at the Yellow House, or had she fled the island already? Talking to Kara could be just the shortcut they needed.

  Even if she was still hiding with Josi, there still remained one problem: how could she arrange to see Kara without leading the duke’s soldiers straight there?

  “We should focus. It’s the big questions we need to start with.” Vigo handed Tarya a cup of coffee, getting a weary half smile in thanks. He listed them on his fingers. “Where did they come from? What happened to their parents? What do they need to survive?”

  “Yes, we need to narrow it down. If only there was someone who could tell us,” Isak said. “At least show us where to look.”

  Kara would know. Kara could tell them. Milla glanced at her three friends—at the four dragons. She could keep faith with her friends and with Kara at the same time, if she navigated carefully around her promise.

  “There might be someone,” Milla began. “Do you remember the old woman who spoke at the duke’s ball?” She gave them a trimmed-down version of meeting Kara on hatching night. She left out her exact words, and the part about taking Kara to Josi.

  “The duke is looking for her! Let’s tell him. He can send his men, bring her straight here!” Isak burst out.

  Milla stared at him
. As a Norlander, Isak didn’t understand how the duke’s soldiers treated other people on Arcosi.

  “Er, why don’t I speak to her first?” She tried not to criticize the duke in front of Isak. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “She wrecked the duke’s ball—that’s when she told us the dragons were returning, that night,” Tarya recalled in a rush. “Wait, did she bring them? Was she with that man who was killed?”

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Vigo sounded utterly confused.

  Milla took a deep breath and told him everything she knew about the murdered man bringing the eggs to the Yellow House. “The rest, I’m just guessing, same as you. I think Kara must have been traveling with him. I haven’t even told her yet that he’s dead. There wasn’t time.”

  “So where is she now?” Isak asked. “Will she want the dragons back?”

  Milla was facing Vigo. He looked directly at her and gave a very slight warning shake of his head.

  “I’m not sure where she is,” she bluffed, heeding the warning for Kara’s sake. “Let me go look for her. I’ll see what she knows. But don’t worry: the dragons are ours.”

  “No! You can’t trust her,” Isak said. “We need to bring her straight to the duke.”

  “What is it with you and the duke?” Tarya demanded. “You’ve been cozying up to him all week. No, ever since his ball!”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” Isak snapped at his sister. “The duke’s listened to me more this week than our father has all year!”

  “That’s not true,” Tarya said.

  “You can’t see it, because you’re our father’s favorite. I’m just his disappointing son.”

  Tarya jerked back with tears in her eyes. It hurt, Milla saw, because there was a grain of truth in it. Tarya was more like Nestan, and they did talk more.

  “Stop it. He loves you both!” Milla said. “More than anything.”

  Taking a breath now, Isak mastered himself. “Anyway, why shouldn’t we trust Duke Olvar? Look at everything he’s done for us.”

  Milla had been puzzling over that. Why was the duke being so generous to them all? Perhaps he was just waiting for the right moment to steal a dragon. She was just a servant girl; surely he’d come for Iggie first?