by Meagan Hurst
“I doubt it would be the whole trip,” Nivaradros replied with a shrug. “Now what are you going to do about the Shade?”
“I haven’t decided beyond keeping him here.”
“And you’re not concerned about him going on an Alantaion slaughter spree?” the Dragon inquired until he caught sight of her expression. “I am just teasing you. He will not make the attempt,” Nivaradros added. “Not after how you handled his intervention the last time.”
She didn’t answer him. Turning back to her packing she realized she was finished—had been finished for probably an hour—and tied her packs off instead. Standing, she glared at the Dragon for a moment before shaking her head. “How is Veilantras handling everything?” she inquired of him in a serious tone. She wanted and needed to know how the elder Dragon was doing since discovering just what had been going on for the past couple of years.
“I believe she is getting over her shock. The news I delivered is causing her some distress. I have no idea how she will react when we reach the Isle. I am not confident she will keep that information private, and I intend to be ready to fight if I have to. You should do the same.”
“Absolutely not. If we need to get out of there I will pull us into the shadows. I have no interest in fighting my way through a few thousand Dragons.”
Nivaradros inclined his head before pausing. “Have you contacted Dyslentio since we left the valley where his herd is in hiding?”
“No,” she admitted. “Things got slightly hectic. Have you been in contact with him?”
“No. But our friendship is considerably more strained than it was when we were younger. Dyslentio was polite to me out of concern for you. You also managed to charm him; I am certain that helped.”
She was tempted to ask him just what had changed between them, but Nivaradros’s eyes were heading to neon, and his features were black. Letting it drop, she sighed. “Have you seen Crilyne recently?”
“Your Shade was speaking with the Mithane about an hour ago. The Mithane hasn’t forgiven the Shade, but he is utilizing him despite his anger. It will keep the Shade out of the way until we leave, unless you request his presence at your side. Do I even want to know why you’ve decided to give him a…pass?” It was a two-fold question; Nivaradros was trying to learn human slang, but he often checked with her as he did so.
“Yes, it is called a pass, and I am granting him that because he acted as he did in a misguided attempt to protect me. No, I will not elaborate upon it further at this time.”
Nivaradros didn’t press and instead began to discuss her plans for the kingdoms that she was still managing to avoid—as he put it—with style. She answered him and found that unlike the Islierre, the Dragon didn’t disapprove of her taking her time. Of course that was because he had seen the results of when she had been forced to act in a rush, and he had a vested interest in keeping her alive.
Taking that conversation and going with it, Z debated her next topic with care. “Do you think the Islierre would consider a position as a council member when he chooses to publicly denounce his throne to Shalion who in return is allegedly handing it to me?”
“I am not even going to ask you how you came up with that concept. You do realize that has never before been offered to another immortal ruler?” Nivaradros’s eyes were a strange shade.
“Well, as immortals have an idea of succession that involves death only, it would be rather hard for the former rulers to have a position on their council,” Z drawled as she rolled her eyes.
He was barely willing to give her that point. She was surprised at how shocked, almost offended, he seemed by the question. “Is there a particular reason you want him on a council?”
“Yes. I am going to be splitting my time between the kingdoms—and anything else that comes up—and since he delivered his kingdom freely into my hands, he is much less likely to attempt to retake it than an outsider, and I need someone to be in charge when we aren’t there. I am not going to give him the duty alone; Shalion can share it with him. Especially since this mess was Shalion’s idea.”
She could see his irritation beginning to fade. “You’ve thought this out.”
“Thoroughly. I just thought you would like to be a part of the decision.”
He was disgusted, disapproving, and in one of his darker moods, but she knew he had come to the realization that for the first time, she was trying to put in the extra thought process he wanted from her. “It is a sound enough idea—if lacking in intelligence—and as he seems to be fond of you, he is unlikely to try and harm you.”
“He wouldn’t survive his attempt if he was foolish enough to make one,” Z murmured as she tried to focus on settling down for the night. She wanted to sleep, but the news of the Rangers visiting was upsetting enough she knew she would not.
And she was correct; she didn’t find sleep. In the end, Nivaradros baited her to the point she began to throw magic at him—and he retaliated. The Arriandin clearly had expected their battles to move from weapons to magic at some point since the room itself left no trace of the battle that ensued; the furniture, on the other hand, was another story. Z hoped Nivaradros had an explanation in mind when the servants reported the destruction to the Mithane. The whole ‘we were bored’ excuse would not be enough.
When they finished their small magical ‘discussion’ five hours later, the room resembled a minor warzone. The walls, floor, ceiling, windows, and doors were flawlessly untouched, but there wasn’t a piece of furniture that had been missed…in most cases said furniture was in ashes, or past ashes in a few instances. Z surveyed the damage with an inward cringe while Nivaradros examined the rooms without as much as a raised brow. He caught her watching him and shrugged.
“We both exercised a fraction of our magical ability, but what did you expect? Nothing damaged? We did not shield the furniture.”
She declined to comment and instead glanced out the window at the rising sun. “Did we destroy all of my belongings?”
“We didn’t touch them…” Nivaradros drawled. “I had a feeling if we damaged your packs you might actually try to kill me. I removed them from the realm of danger. They are resting in the one room we didn’t venture into during our—as you term it—discussion.”
Shooting the Dragon a grateful look, Z headed to the bathroom and found her packs neatly tucked against the wall unscathed. Grabbing a set of clothing that wasn’t scorched, torn, bloodied, or undergoing some weird looking magical attack, she changed and reemerged to find Nivaradros had also changed into clothes that were in pristine condition. She gave him a surprised look, and he shrugged.
“Veilantras lectured me on my choice of attire.”
She didn’t doubt that, but she also didn’t believe that Veilantras was behind his change. Still, his evasiveness made her decide not to push it. Instead she nodded and accepted his offered arm. She had grown used to his constant demand that she act in a way appropriate for her ranks; in return he had become more tolerant of her moments of anxiety. They left the rooms far earlier than they needed to, but Z wanted to speak with both the Islierre and the Mithane before she had to deal with the Rangers.
The thought of meeting with the Rangers—whoever they were—was still bothering her. Of course the sudden arrival of the Islierre also wasn’t helping her nerves. Although he and the Mithane didn’t get along, she was hopeful they could pretend they liked one another for a few more hours. Until she left. If the Rangers were truly interested in playing diplomatically, she was going to see if a couple of them would keep close tabs on the immortal rulers. It would afford her a small amount of confidence that the kingdom would still be standing when she got back.
“Look who has decided to stop by,” the Islierre said with a small smile when he opened the door to the rooms he had been granted. His expression had started chilly and unreadable, but upon meeting her eyes his features softened to something she had grown used to seeing since the Alliance meeting Nivaradros had joined a few years ago. “Come
in—both of you,” he added with a nod to the Dragon.
“How are you settling in?” Nivaradros asked the Islierre once they were all seated and the Dragon was toying with a cup of wine. He wasn’t big into drinking to begin with—like her—and when he did drink he rarely ventured outside the Dragon’s form of alcohol.
“You mean since your…” the Islierre glanced at her and rolled his eyes. “You two really need to work out titles. As to your question, since Z managed to trap me inside the Arriandie, I have been settling in fine.” His eyes were cool, but when they met hers their edge vanished. “I know why you did it, and I cannot fault you for protecting a kingdom you will one day rule. It is actually heartening; you will be ruling my kingdom, and it is nice to see you protect what is yours.”
But he was still irritated with her. He wasn’t used to losing, and by trapping him here she had caused him to lose much more than he would have considered possible. He was impressed though, and that helped her. “If you had bothered to mention you intended to visit this wouldn’t have occurred.”
The Ryelention chuckled and his eyes turned to pearl. “I will keep that in mind.”
Z smiled and began to relax as she took over the conversation without protest from Nivaradros or the Islierre. She asked the Ryelention basic information about his kingdom and responded to the questions he had for her in return. Some of his questions were more concerning; he wanted to know how adept she was at using the shadows. Those questions she answered more conservatively than his others, until the Islierre finally sighed and summoned his power to him.
“I thought you ensured he couldn’t call shadows,” Nivaradros murmured to her.
“I ensured he couldn’t use them to enter or leave the kingdom; I am not about to leave him defenseless.”
“For which I am grateful,” the Islierre interjected. “Come now, Zimliya—let me see what control you have mastered over the shadows on your own.”
“So you can laugh?” she questioned sourly, but she did begin to call the second of her least favorite elemental powers. She had been practicing with Nivaradros, and her control was now solid. Nivaradros had cheerfully informed her that in another century or three her ability with the shadows would surpass his. A century or three didn’t sound that promising to her, but she was aware that had a lot to do with the fact that she had been born a mortal; centuries hadn’t been a possibility before.
The Islierre watched her in silence for several minutes before requesting that she try and coerce the shadows out of its usual shape. Struggling to comply as he continued to toss out ideas, Z pulled her mind away from her audience and focused on the tasks at hand. The only time she heard the Islierre’s voice was when he called out another assignment. It was exhausting. Of all the elements, shadow had the most flexibility. It could be made into anything, but it required control, desire, and the mindset to force it to conform to what was envisioned. Nivaradros excelled at this.
“Enough, Zimliya,” the Ryelention’s musical voice broke through her concentration rather suddenly. It was more of a barking command than he usually used with her, and she had a feeling that it was not the first time he had spoken her name, but the first time she had managed to hear it. Pausing in her magic, she struggled to recall what they had been doing before this. Why she had been using her magic in the first place.
“Zimliya?”
Blinking, she glanced up at him and found his eyes were shaded with concern. Forcing a smile, she let her power fall away and glanced at Nivaradros. He was watching her with such intensity that she wondered if she had done something wrong. Before the Dragon could speak, the Islierre cleared his throat. Nivaradros’s eyes brightened as they moved to the immortal ruler’s.
“I appreciate your restraint in this, Nivaradros,” he said in a quiet tone. “I did not expect…” Eyes more orange than pearl, the Ryelention actually moved to sweep his hair back behind a pointed ear; something she had never seen him do before. “You are not what we thought you were.” The last was said in a whisper that was almost apologetic yet had no hint of that semi-apology in the tone.
“No,” the Dragon agreed. “I am not. But that is the nature of many in this world. You saw much of Zimliya when you first met her, but not nearly as much as you thought you had. I am the same way.”
“You were turned into a monster by us,” the Ryelention countered. “It is not your nature.”
Nivaradros didn’t reply this time. His eyes, however, were heading closer to neon. They moved to glance at her for a second before the Dragon left his seat to kneel before her. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over her cheek. “She is exhausted,” Nivaradros said as he stood and began to pace the room. At her curt gesture he ceased and settled back in a chair, but he was still agitated.
“Hours of calling an element can have that result. Especially when it is one the user rarely summons. But it told me much. Z is more promising than I could have dreamed. She needs training, Nivaradros.” The Islierre continued to observe her.
If she didn’t curb the discussion, they would continue to ignore her, she sighed and shook her head. “She is,” Z said icily, “right here. You could address your observations to me.”
“Indeed.” The man who had changed greatly in a brief amount of time—for an immortal—regarded her with renewed interest. Experience warned her this was a negative result. His thoughts were unknown to her, and she didn’t feel like breaching his trust to find out what they were.
In the end, the Dragon came to her rescue. “I hate to intervene, but Z has a pre-existing meeting with the Rangers that she would be ill-advised to miss.” Standing, Nivaradros approached her and offered her a hand. “If you wish to resume or extend this discussion,” he added to the Islierre as she stood and accepted his hand, “you will have to continue it upon a later date. Zimliya and I have many things to do.”
The Islierre’s eyes became a brighter orange, and Nivaradros lifted a hand. “If it eases you at all, Islierre, know that she is working on details regarding the battle to retake your kingdom.”
“Do you know of them?” the Islierre inquired sharply—suspiciously.
“Not in any great depth, but she is working on it. As an immortal I would have thought you could exercise patience, but perhaps that is not a skill you have achieved.”
Cringing at his words, Z forcibly led Nivaradros from the room before the Islierre could respond. Only once they were several halls away from the Ryelention did she release the anger she had kept bottled up until that point. “Are you out of your mind?!” she hissed. “Why did you think it was a good idea to insult the Islierre?”
“Because he seems to be torn between treating you as his equal and trying to make you his pet. I will not have it,” Nivaradros answered in a bored tone.
“And your solution was to insult him?”
“My solution was to ensure his attention was diverted from you. Angering him was the best option I could take. I am certain you would have reacted worse to violence?”
It wasn’t worth answering. Instead she turned her attention to greeting the various Alantaions they passed in the halls as they approached the Alantaion version of a war room. She had requested the Rangers be brought to this room rather than the audience hall because she didn’t know who the Rangers had sent, and the idea of eyes being able to watch her interactions with the Rangers hadn’t appealed to her. The Mithane had agreed, though he had requested permission to attend the meeting.
While she wasn’t thrilled at the idea of the Mithane sitting in on a possible firestorm, Z wasn’t willing to deny him the right to join her. Veilantras, however, she had barred from the room. Having one Dragon was probably asking for too much as it was. Nivaradros hadn’t asked to join her; he had instead informed her he would be there and she could get over it. Since they were supposed to be somewhat of a unified front, she had let it pass.
But her prevalent concern was not the Dragon’s temper. Crilyne would also be in attendance, and how the Rangers wou
ld handle his presence was what she dreaded the most. She didn't want him wandering around the Ariiandie, and how he responded to the Rangers would tell her much. How they reacted to him would tell her more. She needed to know if the Rangers would ever be able to work with Crilyne again—or any of the other Shades—or if his betrayal had finalized things. As she turned the final corner with the Dragon walking behind her, she found the hall wasn't empty. The Mithane was waiting for her arrival with Crilyne.
“I would have expected an escort to be given to the Rangers. It is possible they will not know where this room is,” Z mentioned to the Mithane.
“I have left instructions for such an escort to take place. I felt it was wiser for the four of us to meet privately first,” her adoptive father said with a raised brow as his eyes began to mix with black. “On the off chance you wished us to know anything or wanted us to avoid speaking of certain topics.”
As if she had ever censored them before. Raising a brow she glanced at Crilyne and found he was unwilling to meet her eyes. Great, he was also concerned. “There is nothing you are forbidden to speak of,” she assured them, speaking in an even tone. “If they cannot handle the topics that arise, I am certain they can find the door. I did not ask for them to come, and I will therefore not handle this with kid-gloves as though it is an alliance I must have. They will either be alright with Crilyne’s presence or they will not be. If they are not alright with it…it is their problem.”
Now the Shade met her eyes. She could see the relief in the depths of the black and had to hide a smile. I’m not going to hang you out to dry just because I am still highly vexed with you, she told him.
And for that I am grateful. You never have been and never will be like anyone else in that way. Are you certain you want me here?
Yes.
“Is there anything else you want me to address before the arrival of our guests?” Z asked, calling attention from Crilyne to her with ease.
