“Ugh.” Carina made a face. “Any idea why?”
“None,” I said, stuffing the letter into my back pocket. I was starting to get annoyed now. “This is ridiculous. I wanted to stay the rest of the weekend and help you deal with the backlog. And he won’t even tell me why?”
Carina shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, Zara. I can manage without you. He probably just wants an update on your progress.”
“He could get that from any of the teachers.”
“Yes, but you and Lessie are his investments. It’s only natural that he’d want to check on the two of you in person.”
Even so, I couldn’t help worrying there might be something more to Lord Tavarian’s summons. Was it possible he’d discovered my connection to Salcombe, and had figured out the true reason I’d broken into his vault? What if Salcombe was right, and he really did have the piece of heart? Would Tavarian kill me to ensure my silence, even if that meant losing Lessie in the process?
My worries gnawed at me on the ride up, and probably would have kept me awake if not for Lessie. Though she couldn’t actually snuggle with me in person, she sent waves of affection through our bond. Somehow, even though Lessie used no words, she managed to lull me into a state of relaxation, wrapping me in the comforting sensation that everything would be all right and there was nothing to fear.
The next morning, I dressed in my usual outfit, then collected Lessie and went to the shipyard. The airship was already waiting, and the crew was both excited and a little nervous to accept Lessie on board.
“Never flown with a dragon before,” the captain remarked as we settled in. There was an admiring look in his eyes beneath the glaze of fear as he stared at Lessie, and I had the distinct feeling that if he weren’t afraid, he would try to pet her. “Does she not know how to fly yet?” he asked me.
“She’s been working on it.” I ran a hand over one of Lessie’s wings, which were tucked in against her sides. The membranes were surprisingly delicate, but I knew just how strong those wings were—during one of our training lessons, she’d been startled when a rat had popped out of the ground, and had accidentally knocked another rider clear off his mount.
“Not my finest moment,” Lessie said stiffly, “but you would have reacted too if a mouse had jumped out right in front of you like that.”
I smothered a laugh, though I knew it was no use—judging by the glare Lessie gave me, she sensed my amusement. “I absolutely would have,” I agreed, deciding not to point out the fact that while a rat could bite my face off and give me rabies, a dragon’s scales were impervious to rodent teeth, and it could squash a rat beneath its foot without a thought. “All things considered, you showed pretty good restraint, only knocking one rider off.”
“I really did,” she said, oblivious to my teasing. “I could have set the whole field aflame.”
The ride to Tavarian’s island took a good half hour longer than it had to fly from there to the academy, as it was roughly thirty miles farther to the west than it had been the last time. I didn’t completely understand how the floating islands worked, and why they never seemed to travel past Elantia’s borders. Did they each have a set orbit, a trajectory that allowed them to circle the country without smashing into each other?
As we came in for our landing, Lessie’s wings rustled at her sides, as if she could barely restrain herself from snapping them open. “Do you think Lord Tavarian would let me chase his cattle?” she asked eagerly as we flew over a pasture. “I wouldn’t eat any of them. Well, maybe one. But he’s going to feed me anyway, so I might as well cut out some extra work for him, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think Tavarian would appreciate you exercising his cattle,” I said dryly. “Not when he’s trying to fatten them up for sale.”
“Oh.” Lessie sounded put out. “Good point.”
We landed in the same airfield I had the first time I’d visited the island, and as before, a horse-drawn cart was waiting to pick us up. But instead of being driven around to the servants’ entrance, we were brought straight to the front and dropped off at the base of the steps. Ahead, the mansion loomed, imposing and elegant. Behind, the fields and forests sprawled, separated from the mansion by the fountain that bubbled in the center of the rotunda behind us. A frisson of nervous energy skittered up my spine at the thought of entering Lord Tavarian’s home, not as an intruder, but as a guest.
Steeling myself, I climbed the steps and lifted my hand to knock. But the door was already opening, and I found myself face to face with the stewardess.
“Welcome.” If she was displeased to see me, her face showed no sign of it. “Lord Tavarian has instructed me to have you brought to the gardens, where you may take tea while you await him.” Her twig-brown eyes lightened as they flicked over my shoulder to where Lessie stood behind me. “She’s grown quite a bit,” she said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Lord Tavarian will be pleased.”
I did my best not to bristle, but I couldn’t quite help the thorn of resentment that dug into my side as Lessie and I followed the stewardess through the house, then back out a side entrance that led to a spectacular garden. The heady scent of lavender and roses washed over me, instantly settling my mood, and I couldn’t help but smile as I took in the rows of flowering bushes and trees. In the center of the garden was a large gazebo wreathed in vines, and though it was edged with more bushes, there was also a large swathe of grass where Lessie could roll around and play nearby.
“Butterfly!” Lessie cried as a large, orange and black monarch fluttered past. She scampered off down a gravel path, and I groaned as she accidentally trampled a rose bush in her haste to catch the insect.
“Lessie, be careful!” I yelled after her as she jumped over a hedge. For a minute, I thought she was going to land in a bed of pansies, but at the last second, she snapped out her wings and glided over them.
“Gliding already,” a deep voice said from behind me. “That’s quite impressive.”
I whirled around, my heart thudding. Lord Tavarian stood less than three feet away, dressed in his dragon rider uniform. He cut an imposing figure in the long, double-breasted coat and breeches, just as he had the night I’d met him, but the morning light gilded his black hair and added just a hint of warmth to those silver eyes.
“My Lord.” I gave him a shallow bow, partially to cover my discomfort and give me a second to collect myself. “I didn’t realize you’d come out so soon.” The stewardess had given me the impression that I’d be cooling my heels, and yet Tavarian was here, mere minutes after I’d arrived.
“Ah.” He smiled slightly, picking up on the words I had not spoken aloud. “I was in the middle of drafting an important piece of correspondence, but when I saw Lessie here in the garden, I couldn’t resist.” There was a hint of wistfulness in his voice as he turned that mercurial gaze her way. “It has been a long time since a dragon has graced my family’s lands. Too long.”
I felt that pang of sympathy again, the twisting in my heart that came any time I thought about being separated from Lessie, regardless of whether it was by death or distance. Should I ask him what happened to his dragon? He seemed a bit more open than he had the last time I’d spoken to him, a bit more human, but even so, I didn’t know him well enough to pry into such a painful memory.
Noticing Tavarian’s presence, Lessie bounded back toward us, skidding to a halt directly in front of Tavarian. Nostrils flared, she stretched her neck out until her snout was mere inches from Tavarian’s chest, and took a giant whiff of him.
“Lessie!” I couldn’t decide whether I was amused or scandalized at her blatant disregard for convention.
“It’s all right.” Tavarian’s silver eyes glinted as he met Lessie’s gaze. “She is taking my measure.”
Lessie stood utterly still for a moment, her flame-colored eyes locked on Tavarian’s. I reached out with my senses, wondering what she was feeling, experiencing, then recoiled as I smacked into a wall that hadn’t been there before. I
t was as though she had shut the world out, and had focused her field of vision solely on Tavarian.
What are you thinking?
Suddenly, she gave a great shake of her head, then met my eyes. “He’ll do,” she said, then bounded away.
“He’ll do?” I shouted after her, but she was already chasing another butterfly, this one nearly as big as my head. “What does that mean?”
“It means stop worrying and enjoy your breakfast.” She paused. “And don’t forget to feed me, too.”
And with that, she shut me out.
“Shall we?” Lord Tavarian held out an arm, distracting me from my disgruntled thoughts. The implacable mask was back on his face, smooth as polished granite, but there was something else, a subtle shift in the lines of his face that made me scowl.
“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”
“Nonsense.” But the corner of his mouth twitched, so slightly that I nearly missed it. “I was merely remembering the early frustrations I experienced with my own dragon.”
Again, I wanted to ask him about that, but when he tucked my arm into his, I was distracted again by the spark of energy his brief touch ignited in me. There was something uncanny about Tavarian, something that stirred my blood even as my brain screamed at me to be cautious, to be wary.
My thoughts churned as he led me up the steps of the gazebo to a round table that had already been set. A waiting servant poured us glasses of sparkling angelberry juice, then served us an absolutely gigantic breakfast. There was venison pie, ham and eggs, kippers, fresh, buttery bread with a variety of creams, curds, and marmalades to choose from, and strong coffee. Lessie was not left out of the equation either—off to the side, two servants brought her a giant platter of meat, and she immediately tucked in.
As Lord Tavarian and I followed Lessie’s example, digging into our own spread of food, he quizzed me about my studies at the academy. “The reports I’ve received regarding your progress are quite pleasing,” he said as he spread orange marmalade over a thick slice of bread. “I had feared you might struggle, not having grown up around dragon riders and our ways, but the professors have all said you are catching up nicely.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, even as my thoughts whirled in my head, a maelstrom of confusion. My first impression of Tavarian was that of a cold, mercenary individual, and that whispered nickname, Blackheart, had only reinforced that. But now that we were sitting out here in the sun, having civilized conversation over excellent food, I wasn’t so sure. Certainly he was not an effusive man, but he’d shown me glimpses of warmth, and even humor, that I had not expected. And Lessie seemed to like him—“He’ll do,” she’d said.
That doesn’t mean anything, I chided myself. Lessie might be wise beyond her years, but she was still just a baby. How was I to know whether or not she was a good judge of character? Did dragons have some kind of secret sense that I didn’t understand?
“You seem troubled,” Lord Tavarian observed. “Is the food not to your liking?”
I blinked, looking down at my plate—I’d stopped eating at some point, and half my food was still on my plate. “No, no, the food’s great,” I said, popping a bite-sized pastry into my mouth. The buttery confection melted onto my tongue, but even that sensation wasn’t enough to distract me from my confused thoughts. “It’s just that I’ve pledged myself to your house, given you my fealty, but I don’t actually know all that much about you.”
“Ah.” Lord Tavarian’s face lightened, and he leaned back in his chair. “What is it you want to know?”
“Well…” I hesitated, wondering if I should go for the jugular. But no, I needed to know more about the man himself, and starting with the question he was least likely to answer was the fastest way to shut him down. “I know you’re absurdly wealthy and you own businesses, and you’re away a lot. But you seem to have influence in the government as well. What is it you actually do?”
“In addition to looking after my family’s various interests and estates, I hold a seat on the Council,” Tavarian said. “Officially, my title is Councilor, but I do quite a bit of work on foreign relations for Elantia.”
“Foreign relations.” I pursed my lips as I considered that. “Does that mean you’re supposed to work with foreign ambassadors to keep the peace between countries?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Much of my time is spent meeting with ambassadors and delegations, negotiating treaties and trade agreements, and…mitigating some of the bellicosity of my colleagues.” A flicker of annoyance passed across his face, as though the last bit was a particular source of frustration for him.
“I see.” I folded my arms. “I’m guessing you’ve tried to talk your fellow riders out of attacking Zallabar.”
“I have.” Tavarian cocked his head, studying me with a renewed intensity that made my nerves crackle. “I wasn’t aware that you were interested in foreign diplomacy.”
“I wasn’t either, until I realized being a dragon rider meant I was going to get dragged into wars I don’t support,” I said, finally giving my annoyance free rein. “This conflict we have with Zallabar is ridiculous, and the attitude that the other dragon riders have about it is ridiculous. They seem to think that Zallabar is a puppy nipping at our heels, when in reality we might very well be facing down a wolf.”
Lord Tavarian raised his eyebrows. “That may be so, but even a wolf is no match for a dragon.”
“Even if the wolf has cannons?”
Tavarian paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “Do you know something about the cannons?”
I shook my head. “No, but logic tells me there’s no way that Zallabar would try to attack Elantia again using methods that have already failed. They were nearly annihilated by us in the past—they wouldn’t risk total destruction again unless they had a plan. My guess would be that they’ve upgraded their cannons, or perhaps invented an entirely new weapon. I’ve traveled extensively, Lord Tavarian—the rest of the world is far ahead of us in technology and industry. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve managed to modify the cannons to shoot faster and with longer range, especially given how long it’s been since the last war.”
“It has been surprisingly difficult to get any kind of military intelligence from Zallabar,” Lord Tavarian said. “Despite my efforts to improve relations with their ambassador, the country is very tight-lipped, and none of the spies I have sent have come back. But you are right, Miss Kenrook,” he added with a sigh. “Attacking Zallabar with insufficient information about the state of their military is a foolish choice indeed. And with the number of dragons dwindling, we cannot afford to throw them away needlessly.”
“Hang on.” I held up a hand. “Are…are you actually listening to my advice?”
Tavarian raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I’m just a lowly ground-dweller, aren’t I?” That was the distinct impression I’d gotten when I’d questioned the military history professor about our relationship with Zallabar, and I’d spent most of those classes biting my tongue about what I really thought.
“If you were truly a lowly ground-dweller, you wouldn’t be here,” Tavarian said, refusing to rise to the bait. “I do despise self-deprecation, so please refrain from indulging in it while in my presence, Zara. I may not know which house you hail from, but it does not matter. You are a member of my house now, and as such, your opinion is valued.”
To my utter mortification, tears sprang to the corners of my eyes. “T-thanks,” I managed, bringing my glass to my mouth to hide my sudden display of emotion. Tavarian’s words had struck upon that old wound I tried so hard to bury, the gaping hole in my soul where my sense of belonging, my sense of home, had always been missing. Salcombe had taken me off the streets, had raised me, but with his cutthroat attitude and questionable morals, I had kept him at arm’s length. He’d taken me in because I was useful to him, and I’d assumed that Tavarian had done the same.
But what
if I was wrong? What if I was more than a means to an end? Could he truly mean to raise me up as an equal?
“Are there any other members of House Tavarian, besides us?” I asked, pouncing on the new train of thought. “Do you have siblings, children?”
“Unfortunately, I was an only child,” Tavarian said. “My father died when I was only fourteen, following the death of his dragon. He made it to the ripe old age of 151,” he added before I could ask how his dragon had died, “so it was his time. Naturally, my mother remarried once I had reached adulthood, and she went to live with my stepfather in Truisin.”
“That sounds nice,” I admitted. The balmy, azure seas of Truisin were sprinkled with over two thousand islands and islets, and its sparkling beaches and gorgeous vistas made it an extremely popular tourist hotspot. I’d been there a couple times searching for items on Salcombe’s orders, and had always taken a few days to soak in the sunshine. “I have to admit, I didn’t know dragon riders lived that long.”
“The soul bond between dragon and rider lengthens our lifespan, even as it shortens theirs,” Tavarian explained. “I believe the oldest recorded dragon-rider pair lived to the age of 223.”
“Right.” I vaguely remembered reading something about that in my dragon lore class, but I’d dismissed it as legend, not fact. “Does that mean the rate that we age slows down as well? Or does it just mean that I’m going to have a wrinkly face for half of my life?”
Lord Tavarian smirked. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Miss Kenrook. Your good looks will last you a long time.”
A blush stung my cheeks at the unexpected compliment, but before I could ask another question to cover up my reaction, Lord Tavarian spoke. “I know you have more questions, but I’d like to ask one of my own.” He shifted forward, fixing me with that penetrating stare once more. “Have you noticed a change in your abilities since bonding with Lessie?”
“I have,” I said, a bit startled at this change of subject. “I’ve been able to cast a wider range with my senses. I helped a boy recover a stolen item, and ever since that point I’ve gotten to exercise my talent quite a bit,” I added dryly.
Call of the Dragon Page 15
