by Emma Hamm
Sigrid pressed her hands slowly into the powder. Not a single puff lifted into the air, a sign that their year would be good. The omens all pointed towards success and happiness thus far. He hoped that they were correct.
When her hand was coated, he nodded. “Now place both hands in the center of the fabric.”
“Won’t that ruin it?”
“That’s the idea.”
She moved to the side as he rounded the other edge of the pedestal. Nadir pressed his own hands into the cool powder, remembering all the times he’d seen his own family do this. His father and his mother, and on one occasion his brother with Saafiya who had been promised to him. This was what sultans did. This was what helped his people find peace in the new year.
“Circle the pedestal as I did.” He stood in front of her and pressed his hands down on the silk. Avoiding marring the fabric again, he used his forearms to pull the tail and shift clean space for them to continue. Traditionally, she should be doing it, but he didn’t mind performing this part when she didn’t know how.
Thankfully, Sigrid was a quick study. She moved the cloth after pressing her hands to the fabric the second time, and each time after that.
Round and round they passed until their handprints filled the entire strip of cloth. Her hands were smaller than his, though not by much. Nadir allowed himself a moment to marvel at that oddity before he stopped walking.
She froze and lifted her gaze to his.
“Pick up the cloth,” he said.
True to her nature, she seemed to understand without asking that she needed to keep the cloth clean. She used her forearms to scoop it from the pedestal, then lifted it up into her arms. The tails almost touched the ground.
He took a deep breath, the sight of her stealing into his lungs and making it difficult to breathe. She lifted the cloth the same way his mother had. Even Saafiya didn’t mind pressing a few fingertips into the stitched edge. But not Sigrid.
“Repeat after me. As best you can will suffice.” His voice was a mere croak, and he awkwardly cleared his throat.
For a moment he thought she would hesitate, but she nodded.
He couldn’t think about that just now. They had a ceremony to finish, and she had done well thus far. Nadir switched to the old Bymerian language, one very few spoke as it was far more difficult than the common tongue. His accent thick, he said the words on a low growl.
“As this cloth symbolizes our union, let it symbolize a healthy year for this land, happiness for its people, and prosperity for the kingdom.”
She repeated the words. Her accent was wrong, and she stumbled over a few of the more difficult sounds, but all in all, she did well.
Nadir grinned. “As the favored of the sultan, I say now that he is favored by me. With this ceremony I honor him, his people, and our marriage. I continue to pledge my love, my happiness, and my life to him. Let all us do the same.” At the last second, he added in a line that had never been said before. “I am beast, I am woman, and I vow to protect him with my life.”
Her voice echoed in the hall. As the last sound dropped from her lips, the crowd cheered so loud the very foundation of the castle shook.
Sigrid’s arms trembled, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. “What did you make me say?”
“It’s part of the ceremony.”
“What did you make me say, Nadir?”
A concubine came forward and pulled the fabric from her arms. Sigrid remained frozen in place until Nadir linked their red fingers together. He tugged her into his arms, careful not to get a handprint on her dress.
“That you may be a beast, but you would protect me with your life.”
Her eyes narrowed. She searched his gaze for something, and seemed to find the answer in their depths. “Then you only told them the truth.”
His heart surged and his soul took flight. The dragon inside him wanted to burst free, to fly with her into the clouds and to truly make her his mate. That was all that he desired and yet, it was not something he could have. Not when so many people were staring at him.
What would the Bymerians think if they knew that two dragons ruled their people? They would have an uprising, or worse, a civil war. He would ruin his family name, disgrace his bloodline… There was too much at stake to ever allow himself the freedom to be true in front of the crowds.
Instead, he lifted a hand and pressed it against her mask. The red powder stained the metal, marking her as his.
“Is that part of the ritual?” she asked with a slight laugh.
“No,” he replied, chuckling as well.
Another raucous cry burst from the crowd, a few pointing at the handprint on her mask and nudging others.
Sigrid did not disappoint. She lifted a hand and ever so gently pressed it against his cheek. She left her own mark on him. Nadir would wear it with pride.
He tucked her under his arm and turned to his people with an arm raised. They cheered again, and he felt hope for the first time in many years.
“Now we really do match,” she whispered.
“In more ways than I could ever say, wife.” Nadir didn’t know what this feeling in his chest was. He felt like he was being pulled apart, while a heavy weight pressed down on him. Regardless, he felt the happiest and, strangely, the saddest he’d ever been in his life.
Sigrid
“Use the cloth to cover your face,” Camilla whispered, holding up a black sheet of fabric. “We can’t risk anyone recognizing our masks.”
“It’s too much of a risk.”
“They will know who you are immediately. Do you want to go or not?”
Her sister was right, but Sigrid’s deeply ingrained values made her hesitate. To take off the mask and walk through a crowd without the shield of metal made her insides twist. A wrapping of cloth was flimsy. Anyone could pull it off her face, and then what would she do?
She’d have to choose between following the old ways or her heart.
They whispered in her small room. Pillows were strewn all around them, and two matching sets were lined up to look like bodies with blankets over them. Everything was ready for them to slip out of the palace. No one would notice they were gone until it was far too late.
Sigrid had told the sultan that they were going to go to the sands tomorrow. It gave them two nights and a day to get back to the red palace and pretend that nothing was amiss. Plenty of time to speak with these mysterious male Beastkin who had hidden themselves from the known world.
She looked down at the strange clothes Camilla had given her. The male leggings were billowy, large, and loose around her thighs but tight at her ankles. The top was much tighter and made entirely of interlocking sections of fabric that looked a little like a mummy wrapped for burial.
It all made her very uncomfortable. Her sister had an easier time with the threat of showing skin.
Sigrid blew out a breath and snatched the cloth from Camilla. “Fine, but you will need to make sure no one gets close to us until we’re out of the city.”
“No one will,” her sister said with a laugh.
Camilla had painted her face and body as she would have for a ceremony with their sisters. White circles and runes decorated one side of her body. Some depicted wings, others were swirls of the wind, and one circle around her eye was homage to the beast inside her.
Her sister was from a different part of Wildewyn, but had been sent as a friend for Sigrid. Their mothers had been childhood friends, and it only made sense that they would be as well.
Sometimes, Sigrid wondered what she would have been like without the beloved influence of her sister. Camilla was everything that Sigrid was not. She was outgoing, made friends easily, laughed often. All the things that Sigrid wanted to be, but couldn’t get past the barrier in her mind.
They’d always wanted to visit Camilla’s homeland. Woodcrest was home to very few, and most who lived there were of ancient bloodlines. Camilla could trace her line back to the original owl shifter.
Sigrid knew nothing about where her family came from. Only that they existed, and that she was the last. Or so she thought.
She stretched the black cloth over her face, wrapping it a few times and securing it with a pin in her hair. “How are we getting out of the palace?”
“You’re comfortable with heights now, aren’t you?”
Sigrid had told her everything that had happened above the clouds, leaving out a few details she kept for herself. There had been a few moments when she forgot everything other than the fact that another dragon existed, and that he was glorious when the sun played on his scales.
“Yes?” she asked. “Why are you asking?”
Camilla leaned over the mounds of pillows and opened the window. “We’re going across the rooftops.”
“We can’t do that! Someone will see us.”
“Not this late at night. And besides, what will they see? Two servants playing on the roof at night are hardly something to call the guards about.”
“With our faces covered?” Sigrid pointed at her own. “They’ll think we’re robbers or assassins and shoot us down.”
“Then you’ll turn into a dragon and we can finally go home.”
She had a point. Even Sigrid wouldn’t allow someone to attack them. A part of her itched to reveal her true self to the Bymerians. They were so lost in their own prejudices that they still thought her a monster, even as they struggled to believe that she told the truth.
A sultana was untouchable. They couldn’t kill her as they would with any other Beastkin, not without fear of what the sultan would do. But they also didn’t have to accept her.
Either way, this would be the ultimate way to show them what she was truly capable of.
“Fine,” she said with a heaving sigh. “Let’s go.”
Camilla slipped out the window, her toes gripping onto the edge of the building, and held out a hand for Sigrid to take.
She glanced back at the room one more time, trying to see it through the eyes of a concubine. They would believe for a while that Camilla and Sigrid were sleeping in. By the time they checked late in the day, Nadir would make an excuse for where they were. It wasn’t the perfect plan by any means. But it should work.
Telling herself not to be silly, she leaned out the window and took Camilla’s waiting hand. Strong and sure, her friend pulled her out and they both turned to press their backs against the building.
“Are you ready?” Camilla asked.
“Just don’t tell me how far the drop is.”
“About three building heights.”
“Camilla!” Sigrid rolled her eyes and felt sweat pool in the center of her palms. “That’s not helpful.”
“At least I’m not making you do this alone. I could fly the entire way, but we must get you out of the city. Everyone will notice a dragon flying above the Red Palace. Why couldn’t you be something sensible? Like an eagle?”
“Would you just shut up and jump?”
Camilla flashed her a grin then leapt away from the Red Palace. She landed on her shoulder and rolled onto the roof of the nearest building. Graceful as always, she stayed in a crouch and waved for Sigrid to do the same.
Gritting her teeth, she launched herself off the building. The weightlessness made her stomach jump into her throat. Arms pin-wheeling, she waited until the last second before she tilted her body, and tucked her shoulder upon striking the ground.
She rolled onto a crouch, lungs heaving, and looked up into Camilla’s waiting grin. “I don’t like that.”
“I think you do.” Her sister burst into a full tilt run, racing across the rooftops with feet as light as her owl wings.
Shaking her head, Sigrid followed. They used to do this when they were children, albeit it wasn’t across the tops of buildings. Camilla would dare her to do the most ridiculous things, and Sigrid always had a hard time saying no. They raced through the forest, leaping over fallen trunks, darting up trees, and swinging from branches.
Now, they used those skills for something much bigger than that.
She did her best to stay silent. Bymerian roofs were made of clay plates, and each step felt like thunder. But no one stopped them as they leapt from home to home until they crouched at the edge of the city. They looked down the small cliff edge.
“Now it’s time to fly,” Camilla breathed.
“Someone could still see us.”
“It’s nearly midnight, Sigrid. No one is going to see you, and if they do, they’ll explain it away as a dream. Let’s go.”
Camilla burst into feathers and dove off the edge of the building. Her silver wings glistened in the moonlight. She didn’t look back at all, just made her way through the desert. If Sigrid didn’t make her decision soon, then she would lose yet another chance to meet these strange creatures.
She exhaled, frustrated, and scrubbed a hand over the cloth covering her face. What was the harm? Who cared if she made the sultan angry? He should be more welcoming of their people, that was the entire point of her existence.
She couldn’t give herself too much time to think about it, or she would never transform. Sigrid turned to look back at the city. Not a single light was on in the windows of the homes. She held her breath, opened her arms, and fell backwards off the side of the building into oblivion.
The dragon was quick to awaken. Her clothes and flesh disappeared for scale and sinew that twisted easily in the air and beat strong wings.
Her back feet trailed in the sand as her arms struggled to keep her aloft. Glimmering streams of tiny sandstorms swirled to life in her wake. Sigrid burst up into the air, though she kept herself from letting out a roar of accomplishment.
She could fly.
A tiny owl flew in front of her, and Sigrid gained on her so quickly it was as if Camilla hadn’t had a head start at all. Sigrid angled herself higher than her friend and neatly snagged her out of the air with a back foot.
She felt the peck of a beak, just a tiny feeling of something tapping against her scales, and her belly rolled with a chortle. Was that what it felt like when something attacked her? No wonder both Wildewyn and Bymere had wanted only one dragon to exist. Nothing could harm her in this form.
Camilla changed in her hand, holding onto the long claws and angrily shouting, “Just keep going straight, you overbearing witch!”
It would be faster this way, Sigrid wanted to tell her. But the other part was that she’d seen Camilla fly so many times. Her sister could know what it felt like to not be able to fly while Sigrid was truly free.
They glided over the desert for hours before she felt Camilla tap on her foot. Sigrid craned her long neck to see Camilla was pointing down.
There, so hidden that Sigrid would never have noticed it, was an abandoned kingdom. Blocky buildings surely used to make up a castle, but sand had blown over most of the structure. Only a few towers could still be seen, even from above, and the rest had been swallowed by the desert.
Sigrid circled a few times to see what the Beastkin men would do. A few stepped out of the buildings, climbed atop what used to be the roofs and waved up at her.
What did they think? They’d been alone for such a long time, thinking that they were the only ones to exist, hunted and afraid. Now, they knew that not only did others exist, but that a dragon was still alive.
What would they do if they knew their sultan was one of their own?
Pushing grim thoughts away, she took herself lower. Buffeting the sands with her wings, she gently set Camilla down and waited until her friend had raced away before landing hard on her hind feet.
She chuffed out a breath, choosing to remain a dragon for the time being. Let them see what she was. Let them understand that she was not a woman to be trifled with and that if she wished, she could destroy everything they built.
A leopard raced towards her, sand flying in all directions as he skidded to a halt. The whites of his eyes were showing as he met her gaze and froze. A long line of fur rose upon his spine.
; The sparrow boy was close on the beast’s tail. He waved both his hands in the air as if he needed to let her know not to attack. She could recognize her own people. She’d recognized him easily enough.
A crowd followed them both. Men and animals spread across the sands in pitifully small numbers. She hoped this wasn’t it, but had a sinking feeling that it might be.
Thirty men, she counted. Not many at all.
There was a bear in their ranks, loping towards her and shaking his head. A lion followed him, and twin golden eagles circled above her. The rest were in their human form. They were in varied groups. Red hair, blonde hair, black skin, and a person who was entirely white as snow.
He led the group, the long length of his hair tied in a high peak. His pink eyes caught hers, and she marveled at the realization that at least one Beastkin was entirely albino.
He stopped in front of her and held his hands out at his sides. “Sigrid of Wildewyn, I assume?”
She inclined her head in a slow nod.
“Welcome to Falldell, where the sultan’s assassins are trained and the remaining Beastkin of Bymere hide.”
So, this was where the acclaimed assassins hailed from. Sigrid had so many questions racing through her mind that she didn’t know where to begin. She’d have to be human for that, although the drakon inside her had other plans.
Rearing up, she stretched her wings wide and let out a guttural call. She wanted them all to see one more time how dangerous she was. How much she could harm them and that every movement up until this point had indeed been a threat. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill any of them, and she hadn’t seen a single one who could threaten her.
Landing hard on her forearms, the drakon finally allowed her scales to disappear until all that remained was a woman kneeling in the sand. Sigrid pressed her fists into the ground and took a deep breath.
There was only one thing left to do, and that was to speak with the men before her.
She slowly stood, unwrapping her headscarf as she went. Camilla stood to the side and followed her actions. A few of the men stepped back when they saw their faces. Some of them stepped forward, but Sigrid eyed the albino man.
