by Liz Flanagan
Wide-eyed, people stared at their neighbors, as if released from a spell. Then the entire island of Arcosi erupted in hectic gossip.
“Quick.” Vigo grabbed Tarya’s black mare and sprang up into the saddle. Pulling her head around and urging her forward, he shouted over his shoulder, “Isak? Milla? Back to the palace, now!”
Then he was galloping down the causeway after Tarya.
At the shrine, the scattered guests stared at each other in stunned silence.
“Let’s get back to the palace immediately,” Olvar called out, in a voice that shook slightly. “Before they riot. I’ll order a new curfew.”
Milla moved closer, so she didn’t miss a word.
“My dear, why not let the people have their holiday? Let them get used to the idea of the dragons?” Serina suggested. “Look, they’re calmer now. No one is rioting.”
King Carlo waited a polite distance away, listening to his sister.
Any other day, Milla was sure Duke Olvar would have ordered his army to clear the streets, but the presence of visiting royalty restrained him.
“Very well.” Olvar’s voice sounded tight and effortful. “Guards! Let it be known that the holiday will continue.”
Milla watched them go.
The royal carriages parted the crowds, heading straight back up the main street to the palace.
“That’s done it,” Josi commented dryly. “I’d better get back to Kara, and let her know her wishes might be coming true.”
“I need to get back to Iggie. But I’ll see you soon?” Milla embraced Josi and Nestan. Then she used the secret steps and the shadow gate to avoid the packed streets, but it was slower going today, and she got caught in foot traffic every time she crossed the main roadway.
By the time she finally reached the dragonhall, the duke and his family were already home. Milla found Vigo arguing loudly with his father, while Serina tried to interrupt.
Iggie welcomed her loudly and glided down from the perch.
She went straight to her dragon and put her forehead to his, holding his head with both hands. “It’s all right. Everything’s all right,” she told him, hoping it was true.
Iggie rumbled his reply, unsettled by the mood in the room.
“You can’t deny this is happening! The secret’s out,” Vigo was shouting. He had one hand out to restrain Petra at his side.
The green dragon was standing next to Vigo, glaring down at the duke for upsetting her person.
“Don’t you see?” Vigo tried. “It’s a chance to do the right thing! And unite the city. Don’t we need that?”
Heral had a fresh bandage, but seemed otherwise fine after his flight over the island. Tarya was running her hands over him, checking every scale, still wearing her bloodstained dress. Isak and Belara huddled by the stove. The golden dragon crouched low, with her ears flat, as though raised voices hurt them.
King Carlo and Luca hung back awkwardly by the door with a few Sartolan guards, all looking dazed. The dragons had been kept secret from them, too. Last time people rode dragons, Sartola had burned.
“Milla! At last,” Vigo said, turning to her.
“What’s going on?” Her eyes darted from Vigo to his father and back again. Today, the balance of power between them seemed different.
“Didn’t you see as you came in?” Vigo asked.
She blanked the question, unwilling to mention the shadow gate.
“Come on, follow me.”
Leaving Isak with the dragons, she followed Vigo as fast as she could to the palace gates, the others running to keep up. There, Vigo gestured for Milla to climb the eastern watchtower first. As she walked up the worn stone stairs that spiraled through it, her ears were filled with a strange sound, gathering in strength. She emerged into bright sunshine, hot on her face, and noise broke over her like a wave. Tarya, Vigo, Carlo, the duke, and duchess all stood in a line on the ramparts.
Milla looked down on hundreds of people lining up on the other side of the gates. An ocean of Arcosi citizens, milling, talking, arguing. Children on their parents’ shoulders. Elderly couples on little folding stools, fanning themselves in the sunshine. Vendors squeezed up and down with their trays, selling food and drink. The chattering, undulating snake wound its way, six people wide, back down into the heart of the city, as far as she could see.
Milla remembered what it felt like to stand down there, looking at a locked door and burning to enter.
What had Kara said? The dragons belonged to the city. And here was the city, come to see them. The first holiday in years, and they chose to spend it standing in the heat, for the chance of seeing a dragon.
“What can we do?” Tarya whispered in her ear so the duke couldn’t hear. “They’ve come to see the dragons. But there’s no way we can get them all in at once: there’s hundreds.”
Milla stole a glance at the duke. He looked affronted that his people dared come knocking, uninvited.
“Let’s open the doors, quickly,” Vigo was saying. “Or do you want another riot?”
Carlo looked shocked. “You’ve had riots? But why? I thought trading was good?”
Serina paled.
Milla guessed she’d seen the results of recent fighting at close hand, working with her healers in the lower town.
“Carlo, I’ll explain later. My son is right,” the duchess said. “There’s nowhere to go. In such close quarters, we cannot risk a riot.”
“We need to prove to people that the dragons aren’t dangerous—so no one else shoots arrows at them,” Tarya said firmly.
“What exactly are you suggesting?” the duke asked.
“We let them in. Let them see the dragons, as they really are.” Tarya thought of something else. “Vigo! We could share our betrothal feast with the people?”
“Turn it into a celebration of the dragons?” he said slowly. “I like it.” He grinned at Tarya.
Milla nodded. This was it. Finally! Here was the chance to make things right, just as Kara had told them. To heal all the mistakes of the past. “Yes! Let the people of Arcosi meet the dragons of Arcosi, just like—” She bit her lip so she wouldn’t blurt out Kara’s name.
Duke Olvar twisted his head and stared keenly down at her. He was so tall and thin, Milla thought of a heron, hunting.
“Make it our betrothal gift?” Vigo said to his father.
“It could work.” Serina was counting, calculating, with an experienced eye. “We can set up tents. One for food, one for recovery. There’ll be heatstroke today.”
“Your Grace has a strategy, I’m sure.” Tarya appealed to Olvar’s controlling nature: let him think this was all his idea. She gestured to the guards all along the palace walls. “What’s best, would you say? Swap the guards’ shifts double-time so no one gets too hot? Send detachments down with water? Would that need two or three cohorts? And, of course, anyone fighting is barred.”
Milla watched Tarya flatter the duke with reverent attention, manipulating him brilliantly as no one else could. Her friend was changing, Milla saw.
It helped that King Carlo was listening. The duke wanted to appear generous in front of his wife’s brother.
“I see events have overtaken us,” Duke Olvar sighed. “Let it be so. Open the gates, let the people in.”
Milla dared to ask, “All the people?”
The duke paused.
Carlo cleared his throat and stared meaningfully at him.
Everyone waited. Was Olvar about to insult Sartolans in front of the king of Sartola?
“Yes, yes, all the people of Arcosi. I suppose we must,” Duke Olvar said. He stalked away.
Out of earshot of King Carlo, Milla heard the duke amending his orders in a whisper. “But Norlanders first. And when they’ve seen the dragons, get them out of my palace before we all catch something.”
When the palace gates were opened, a line of bedraggled, sweat-drenched Arcosi made their way under the shade of the trees to the dragonhall. Rich and poor, young and old, first
Norlanders and then everyone else; they all came in to see the dragons. They filed into the dragonhall and stood staring at what they found: this vast spacious building, with its ancient murals and the four enormous real-live dragons.
Seeing the shocked expressions, Milla went to welcome them in. She remembered her first awestruck impressions on the night of the duke’s ball—and there had been no dragons back then.
Iggie glided across to the makeshift wooden barrier and stood, sniffing the air.
Behind the fence, a family of four backed away rapidly.
Milla threw herself after Iggie. “Steady, Ig, steady.” How did he look to these people? Huge, vast, lethal?
She glanced over her shoulder: Heral and Petra were watching with interest, while Belara was curled up on the far side of the stove, ignoring them all.
Just then, a girl wriggled out of her mother’s arms and ran forward—a skinny little six-year-old with long plaits and a big grin. She pushed her head and shoulders right through the barrier and stretched her arms out. “Hello, dragon!”
“Ella, come back!”
Milla was tense with dread, ready to call Iggie off. Why had she thought this was a good idea? He could break this child so easily. And then what would happen to Iggie? The city would bay for his blood.
But Iggie reached down delicately, whiffling at her palm, like a horse.
“It tickles!” the girl laughed, delighted.
“Well done, Ig. Nicely done.” Milla stood at his left shoulder, patting him to calm herself as much as him, and squashing a surge of jealousy. Wasn’t this what she’d been arguing for? Iggie wasn’t just hers anymore. She had to share him.
The little girl’s brother came forward next, stuttering politely, “P-please, my lady … Can I pet your dragon, please?” He fixed her with large hazel eyes, hopeful and still a bit scared.
Iggie bowed playfully, then sprang backward, checking to see if they were following.
The little boy flinched and stumbled away.
His mother screamed.
“It’s all right. He just wants you to chase him,” Milla explained. “Come on, he won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Slowly, the little boy came forward again, and this time Iggie was gentle and slow, till the boy grew bold and confident with him.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of heat and effort. Three dragons loved it. While Belara slept through most of it, Iggie, Petra, and Heral came to meet the people of Arcosi. They showed off, flying up to the rafters and turning circles in the air. They let children sit on their backs, three at a time, purring contentedly and basking in the attention.
It was late in the afternoon when Milla saw the next people in line were Thom and Rosa. Close up, she noticed with a shock that they had both lost weight recently.
She’d only seen Rosa once, just after the fire. When she visited to check that Rosa was all right, Milla almost got smothered by her parents’ grateful hugs. She’d come away laden with gifts of food and wine.
“So that’s what’s been keeping you away.” Thom leaned on the wooden rail and gazed at Iggie with open admiration.
Rosa met Milla’s eyes, and it was complicated. There was some hurt there that she hadn’t confided in her, but something else, too, closer to awe.
Milla went and hugged her friend over the fence. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you,” she spoke into Rosa’s hair. “It wasn’t my choice, I promise you.” She pulled back and looked up at her face. “I missed you. Can we get back to normal, now that you know?”
The silence lasted a beat too long. Milla wished she’d trusted them with the truth, whatever the duke might have said.
“What’s his name?” Rosa said finally. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Iggie!” Milla said. “Ignato, really. Isn’t he beautiful? Come on, come and say hello properly.”
Aark? Iggie asked, stretching forward to sniff Rosa’s sleeve.
“Hey, Iggie, good to meet you finally.” She tipped her head back to see his face, lifting a tentative hand. “I can’t believe it. A dragon? I must be dreaming.”
Iggie whooshed a breath of warm air and slobbered over her fingers.
“Urgh! Except: who knew dragon dribble was so sticky?”
They all laughed, making Iggie blink slowly in delight.
“Come on, come in,” Milla said, urging her friends to climb through the fence.
Seeing Thom and Rosa standing with their arms around Iggie’s scaly neck, Milla felt tears spring to her eyes. She stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders, as if she’d shed a heavy load.
Near the end of the day, Tarya said, “I think it’s actually good for them: Kara was right.” She was wearing her usual red clothes again, her bloodied betrothal dress discarded. “Look at Heral: he’s never looked so sleek and satisfied.”
“My fierce dragon’s nothing but a show-off! How did I manage to miss that?” Vigo said, yawning, to Milla as Petra rolled on her back in front of a pair of startled little boys.
“And Iggie adores children—who’d’ve guessed?” Milla said. And then, “What’s the matter with Belara?” she asked, quietly so Isak couldn’t hear and take it the wrong way.
The golden dragon, smallest of them all, had not joined the others at the fence. All day she stayed as far from the viewing area as possible. If anyone but Isak or Iggie came near, she turned on them, growling and spitting sparks.
“I’ve never seen her like this,” Vigo said. “If I hadn’t backed off earlier, she’d have flamed me.”
“I think she’s ill,” Isak said. He was coaxing Belara with a bucket of water, but she kept turning away. In the end, he gave up. “I’m worried. She’s not eating. She won’t drink. It’s like she’s trying to hide. Maybe it’s just too much, all this.” He gestured at the endless line of people shuffling through the main doors. “Maybe it was a mistake.”
Milla was about to contradict him, when she noticed how worried Isak looked. His face was chalky white. He’d cut his blond curly hair shorter so it stood on end, making him seem taller, copying Olvar’s style. One of the duke’s craftsmen had made him some new eyeglasses, with wire that fitted over his ears, but this wire was thicker and darker. It made him look like someone else. She missed the old Isak.
“Can we stop for today?” Isak asked. “She’s really not well.”
The sun was setting now, painting the walls of the dragonhall with slanting golden light.
“Let’s do it,” Tarya agreed. “Everyone’s exhausted, me included.”
Vigo called the command and the guards stepped forward, breaking the news to the disappointed line just outside the dragonhall.
Milla slid to the floor and stretched out on her back in the sawdust. “Oof! What a day.” She felt that old familiar buzz of tiredness in her body, while her mind was racing. “Congratulations, you two. No one will forget your betrothal in a hurry.”
Tarya laughed. “Feel free to write a song about Heral and his dramatic timing, Isak.”
“They loved it, didn’t they?” Milla said, looking over to where Iggie, Heral, and Petra still stood by the fence, watching hopefully to see if any other visitors were coming. She kept her tone light, trying not to start another fight. “You know, Kara said the dragons belong to the city. Do you think we could try taking the dragons down there? I mean, once everyone has met them? They could use the old basking places.”
“Why not?” Tarya yawned. “It went better than I expected today.”
“I can’t believe we just introduced our dragons to the people of Arcosi.” Vigo shook his head, smiling.
“Remember that old poem: walls must fall, peace must reign?” Milla said. “Maybe this is the start of it. Maybe we can pull it off.”
“Speak for yourself, Milla,” Isak muttered. “You usually do. We are still here, me and Belara. And in case you hadn’t noticed: No, Milla, she didn’t love it. No, Vigo, my dragon didn’t meet people today. And no, Tarya, it went worse than I expected. Haven�
�t you seen her?”
They all looked over. Belara’s scales looked grayish yellow. She was curled up tightly, her back to Isak, ignoring all his attempts to communicate with her.
“It should be quieter tomorrow,” Vigo said placatingly. “I reckon we had most of the city through those doors today; maybe she’ll feel better then? I think the dragons will like exploring the city. We could start that tomorrow, when they’ve met everyone.”
He was wrong. Next day, there were more new people. The day after that, even more.
On the fourth day, Milla and Iggie went for another early-morning flight. It was a special time of day for Milla. The only time she had her dragon to herself, the only time she felt completely free, just like in the dreams she had before Iggie hatched.
This time, when the mist started to burn off, Milla saw something below her. She gripped her dragon’s neck more tightly.
“Iggie, look! What’s that?” She stared at the dark shapes in the water below: dozens of them. “Is it fishing boats?”
Iggie flew lower.
Milla nearly fell from his back in shock. It was a flotilla. Boatloads and boatloads of people, all heading toward Arcosi.
Was this an attack?
They flew back to the palace at top speed. They landed right outside the dragonhall. Milla was better at landing already. She threw herself off and into a run, then slammed straight into Tarya tearing the other way.
They gripped each other’s arms tightly, both breathless and bursting with news.
“They’re coming! Boats and boats, all coming here!” Milla said. “Raise the alarm!”
“No, it’s not an attack,” Tarya cried. “They sent word. It’s the old islanders, coming home. Just like Kara said.”
Milla just stared at her.
“There’s something else. It’s Belara!” Tarya told her: “She’s laid eggs!”
“No!” Milla knew she should feel pleased. She wanted the dragons to breed, one day, and secure their future here on Arcosi. She just hadn’t expected it so soon.
