The Queen of Ieflaria

by Effie Calvin

  “You saw?” asked Esofi.

  “I saw,” confirmed Lisette. “I heard.”

  For some reason, this was comforting. “You could have helped.”

  “I would have if you needed it,” said Lisette, unbothered. Esofi started as something touched her back, only to realize that Captain Lehmann was draping his cloak across her shoulders.

  “Where is the crown princess?” Esofi asked.

  “She’s out here too?” Lehmann looked enraged. “Of course. She’ll see me cast out of the city yet.”

  “I left her in a tavern,” said Esofi. “With her friends.”

  “You will find them in the Rabbit District,” contributed Lisette. “Now, I need to get the princess back to the castle immediately.”

  Lehmann barked out a few orders, and Esofi was led down to the ground. There, more guards waited with a pair of Ieflarian mountain ponies for her and Lisette. As they rode through the streets, Esofi could see people beginning to emerge from the buildings warily, still occasionally glancing skyward. But mostly, they stared at her. Esofi spared a moment to wonder how terrible she must look, dress torn practically in two and covered in drying dragon blood.

  But that wasn’t important, not compared to the fact that the dragon had spoken to her—and in a language of Men, no less. Esofi had been raised to believe that the dragons had lost the ability to speak in ages long past, and none of the dragons she’d encountered had ever challenged the notion until now.

  But why? Men had killed so many dragons in the last century. If they could speak, if they could reason, it could have all been avoided. But the things the dragon had said made her think that the dragons were actively choosing not to speak.

  He trusted me because he realized I was a follower of Talcia. But he saw my magic long before the Silence markings. Why is magic alone not enough?

  I need to learn to speak Sibari properly.

  They made it back to the castle without incident. Adale was waiting for them just in front of the main entryway, pacing anxiously. When she saw Esofi, she hurried to meet her.

  “Are you all right?” cried Adale.

  Esofi just nodded.

  “You’re covered in blood!”

  “It’s not mine,” said Esofi, looking down at her dress.

  “Oh,” said Adale. “I…I saved your…” She pulled a handful of jewelry from her bag and proffered it to Esofi. Esofi gave a small laugh and passed the jewels to Lisette, who huffed and strode into the castle.

  “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” asked Esofi, following after her.

  “Well, I am,” said Adale, rubbing the back of her neck. “I think they’ll forgive you, though, since you killed another dragon.”

  Esofi said nothing. To Adale—to everyone—the dragon had just been another roving monster. How in the world could she convince everyone that it was more complicated than that?

  “Do you speak Sibari?” asked Esofi abruptly.

  “Sibari?” Adale repeated. “A little. It could be better. Why?”

  “The dragon spoke to me in Sibari,” said Esofi. “Just before he died.”

  Adale stared at her. “What?”

  “He spoke to me,” said Esofi. “In Sibari. But he kept saying a word—Rvadron. I don’t know what—”

  “Dragons can’t talk.” Adale was still frowning. “You told me so yourself.”

  “This one could!” Esofi gripped a handful of her own hair. It was stained red. “And I think the others can, too. They’re just…choosing not to. I swear I’m not mad.”

  “I don’t think you’re mad,” said Adale. “But I am confused. Why don’t the dragons talk to us?”

  “It’s something to do with Talcia,” said Esofi. “And the Rvadron. I’m just not sure what. I need to sit down and think, but I’m too exhausted right now.”

  “The ambassador from Veravin is here with his wife,” offered Adale. “You could meet with them tomorrow. Maybe they’ll be able to help you.”

  Esofi rubbed at the blood drying on the side of her face with Lehmann’s cloak, knocking it askew. “I just hope they don’t think I dreamed the whole thing.”

  “Even if they do, they can’t do anything about it,” said Adale. “They’re ambassadors, they have to be… What is that?”

  “What?”

  “The markings on your back… No, don’t turn around, I want to see them.” Esofi was all too aware of Adale staring on her back. “What are they?”

  “It’s…difficult to explain,” said Esofi.

  “I want to see all of it,” said Adale, reverently.

  Esofi wrapped the cloak around her shoulders again. “Sign the marriage contract, and you shall.”

  Chapter Six

  ADALE

  Adale woke with a sense of purpose and a throbbing headache. The festivities had continued into the night after news of Esofi slaying the dragon made it around the city, and she’d seen no reason to go to bed after that. The twins were furious that Adale had managed to steal Esofi away during the ball and had made their displeasure known by spilling wine on her when she’d returned to their party to see if there was any food left.

  Adale glanced in the mirror. The previous night’s coiled braid had come loose and was now hanging down her back, there was still dried wine sticking to her neck, and she had a cut above her eye where Svana had slashed at her with magic after Adale punched her in the nose. Perhaps a bath was in order.

  Every castle, palace, and manor house in the land had a youth blessed with Inthi’s gift of flame in its service. Usually no older than ten, the child’s sole responsibility was heating water for baths and laundry (and occasionally tea, if someone was feeling particularly impatient). It wasn’t a difficult job, and usually tipped well, but it was never permanent. Inevitably, the children would discover a passion for one of Inthi’s arts and leave for the workshops, whereupon another blessed child would be brought in as a replacement.

  Adale rang for the heater, and they (the blessed of Inthi were almost always neutroi, just as Inthi was) arrived quickly, followed by a trio of maids bearing buckets of water. If—no, when Adale was queen, she’d have the metalworkers from Inthi’s District put in pipes to run water through the castle, like the ones the emperor had in Xytae.

  She took her time with the bath, reflecting on yesterday’s events with a surprising sense of satisfaction. Esofi had chosen her over her cousins yet again. Her only true regret was that she’d been useless at helping defeat the dragon. Why had the twins been granted magic instead of Adale? It was fundamentally unfair, decided Adale, conveniently forgetting what her attitude toward the gods had been for the last seventeen years.

  Once the water had gone cold, Adale forced herself to dry off, braid her hair, and dress herself. Then she set off in search of the ambassadors from Veravin, the Lord Matvei and Lady Yekarina.

  It was still somewhat early, so Adale decided to check the banquet hall first. The ambassadors weren’t there, but she paused to eat anyway. When she was finished, she asked the servants if any of them knew where the ambassadors had gone. Someone finally directed her toward one of the sitting rooms.

  Lord Matvei and Lady Yekarina were an older couple who spent most of their time with Adale’s parents. Like most people from the icy northern continent of Siabaeld, they were quiet, bordering on dour—until they laughed, and then they blazed like a fire. Today, they were alone, sitting across from one another with some incomprehensible board game on the table between them. When Adale entered the room, they both looked up.

  “Crown Princess,” said Lord Matvei, rising. “Do you need this room?”

  “Oh no, not at all,” said Adale. “I was actually looking for you.”

  The couple didn’t seem surprised to hear this, but then, they never showed much emotion. Adale closed the door behind herself and took a seat. The two Veravinians continued to watch her, expressionless. She decided not to waste any time.

  “Princess Esofi told me something strange last night, just
after she slew the dragon that attacked the wall,” said Adale. “She said that it spoke to her, in Sibari.”

  Lord Matvei and Lady Yekarina glanced at one another.

  “It said the word Rvadron to her,” said Adale. “And she thinks it might be important. Do you know what it means?”

  “Rvadron is a title,” said Lord Matvei. “A king, but more than a king. A king over other kings. An emperor. When we speak of Ionnes of Xytae, we also call him Rvadron, and Xuefang of Anora is Rvadrai—that is the woman’s title, and Rvadat is for neutroi.”

  “There was once a Rvadron of Siabaeld,” added Lady Yekarina. “He ruled all the nations of Siabaeld, the lands that are now called Sterentand and Veravin and Cilva. But no man has held that title in centuries. Now we have only Zov and Ziav, king and queen, and we are independent from one another.”

  “Did you know that the dragons can still speak?” asked Adale. “I thought—everyone thought they’d forgotten how.”

  “They are strange, secretive creatures,” said Lady Yekarina. “It makes little difference whether they cannot speak or will not speak, for there is no difference in the quality of silence. Siabaeld remembers a time when they were our allies, but that is past.”

  “But they don’t attack your country, do they?”

  “We have the gifts granted by Lady Talcia and Lady Avala,” said Lord Matvei, naming the Goddess of Winter who was the Eleventh in Siabaeld. “They know this, and do not trouble us often. And their blood is cold, so the winter makes them sleep. We see nothing of them until midsummer.”

  It wasn’t much, but it was a start. But Adale wasn’t ready to bring her findings to Esofi just yet—she had a feeling she could do better. Adale thanked the couple for their help and hurried away, turning the new information over in her head.

  The royal library was a place she had only ever visited when she was dragged there by her tutors, but perhaps it held more answers. As she approached the doors, she spared a glance toward the statue of Ethi, the God of Knowledge, just outside. Around the base, a few sticks of incense smoldered, and the offering bowl was half filled with copper coins, sprigs of herbs, and crow feathers. Adale rummaged in her pockets and dropped a few coins into the mix.

  Inside, the library was dim and quiet. The front was filled with tables of all sizes, where a few people worked in absolute silence. Farther back was the area where the neutroi librarian-priests shuffled about in their brown robes, repairing old books and muttering to each other. On either side stretched the endless shelves that made up the library collection.

  Adale passed the tables and approached the librarians. They all looked confused at the sight of her.

  “I need—” began Adale, only to start at how loud her own voice sounded in this place. Trying again, this time in a whisper, she said, “I need information about the dragons.”

  One of the librarians stepped forward, a pale and smooth-faced neutroi with short black curls. “I will assist you, Crown Princess. Follow me.”

  Down the dimly lit stacks they went, the librarian seeming to know exactly where to go. Then Adale realized she probably wasn’t the first one to ask about the dragons. Her parents or their advisors had surely made the same request before.

  After a few minutes of silent walking, the librarian stopped and gestured to a shelf. “Everything from here—” One gloved hand indicated a book bound in faded red leather. “—to here—” A thinner tome, this one more folio than book. “—is what we have about dragons.” The collection wasn’t much, hardly taking up a full shelf. “Beyond this point is wyverns. If you come over to this side, these are the general magical beast books. They might be of use to you if you’re just starting out.”

  Adale looked at the first book, the red one, and began to reach for it, but the librarian stopped her.

  “Here, put these on first,” they said, withdrawing a pair of silk gloves from somewhere in their robe, identical to the ones all the librarians wore. “Many of these texts are too delicate for bare hands.”

  Adale put the gloves on and took the book off its shelf. The librarian still looked a bit anxious, though, and added, “If you sit by a window, make sure you don’t hold the pages in direct sunlight. And…don’t turn down the corners to mark a page. Use this.” The librarian reached into their pocket again, this time withdrawing a long white ribbon.

  Adale put the ribbon in the book’s cover, and the librarian left her at last. She went in search of somewhere to sit. She eventually found a musty-smelling but very soft chair in a little alcove and settled down to read.

  The book was titled Dragons of the North. The text was old, and many of the words were spelled strangely, though fortunately not so strangely that she couldn’t decipher their meaning. The introduction to the book explained that while there were numerous kinds of dragons in existence, the author would be focusing only on the breed that dwelled in Ioshora and Siabaeld and Thiyra, which he called the Greater Northern Dragons.

  Adale wondered if there was such a thing as a Lesser Northern Dragon.

  It rapidly became apparent that the author of this tome, whoever he was, had been a bit of an eccentric. He’d stalked entire groups (“flights,” he’d called them) over mountaintops and across countries, armed with only a notepad and a sketchbook, to study how they interacted with one another and what the stages in their life cycle looked like. The illustrations were interesting to look at, but Adale had a feeling he didn’t know any more about the Emperor Dragon than she did. While old, the book had been written long after the dragons had stopped communicating with mankind. Everything this author knew came from observation alone.

  He did seem to have his suspicions about dragon intelligence, though. Sprinkled throughout the book were anecdotes that suggested the dragons were far wiser than ordinary beasts. But, he added, the dragons had learned his scent and knew he was observing them. If only he could have watched them in secret, to see how they behaved when they believed no eyes were upon them.

  Adale didn’t usually do much reading, but this book contained enough tales of risk and danger and aerial dominance fights to keep her awake. Even the disgusting descriptions of molting and the explanations of how a mother dragon would breathe fire onto her egg to keep it warm were actually far more interesting than she’d thought they’d be.

  Adale was drawn from the book by the sound of her own stomach growling. Surprised, she looked out the window and saw the sun was directly overhead—she’d spent the entire morning reading.

  Adale set the bookmark between the pages and closed the book. She doubted she’d be allowed to take something so old and fragile out of the library, so she returned it to the shelf and decided to go in search of food.

  The afternoon meal was already being set out, but Adale found she was having trouble focusing on what was in front of her. Her mind seemed somewhere far away, tracking wild dragons across the north, even while her body sat at the familiar long table. She ate quickly and spoke to nobody—fortunately, nobody tried to speak to her, either. In less than half an hour, she was back at the library, book in hand, her chair still warm.

  She finished the rest of the book that day, but despite the wealth of new information about dragons, she still had nothing about the emperor that Esofi’s dragon had spoken of. Still, there was an entire shelf of books that she hadn’t read yet. Adale resolved to return the following day to see if her luck would be any better.

  The next day, she was back again with the rising of the sun, so early that she had to wait outside the doors for the head librarian to arrive and unlock them. This time, she was a little bit more discerning with her selection. While she thought Esofi would be incredibly impressed if she read every single dragon-related book in the library, she knew they didn’t have that kind of time. So after a few more fruitless hours, she decided to approach the librarian who had helped her previously—they had seemed more friendly and approachable than the others.

  “Excuse me,” whispered Adale. “I need some help.”
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  The librarian looked up from their work and smiled. “Of course, Crown Princess. Are you still looking for dragons?”

  “Right. But I don’t know if I’m finding what I need here,” said Adale. “These books are all fairly recent. I think I probably want something older. Legends, maybe.”

  The librarian nodded. “I see. You might find more at the Temple of Talcia, then.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Adale.

  “You know that when Inthi forged Inthya it was little more than a molten stone until the other gods filled it with their gifts,” said the librarian, citing the creation story that all children knew. “Iolar’s gift was mankind. Talcia’s was the magical beasts of the wilds, including the dragons.”

  Adale had always known what Talcia’s contribution to the world had been, but she’d never made the connection to the dragons. It seemed wrong that one of the Ten had created such terrible creatures. They were the sort of thing she’d expect from one of those frightening Elven gods, perhaps.

  Elves had been banned from all of Ioshora centuries ago, but two had come on behalf of their king in hopes of reopening the border when Adale was very young. None of the regents of Ioshora had chosen to take the elves up on their offer.

  Elves didn’t look so different from Men; they had two legs, two arms, and one head apiece. But there was such a coldness in their eyes, and the way they walked and gestured reminded Adale of the way a spider zigzagged across the floor when it ran. It was as though, Countess Amala had murmured later, someone had taken a creature with lots of limbs and poured it into a Man’s body. Not even the Mer, with their rows and rows of triangular teeth, had ever made Adale feel so cold inside.

  But she had seen the carving of the dragon on the courtyard wall when she’d visited the temple with Esofi that day. Perhaps the priestesses did know something—though she wasn’t sure if any of them would have the time to help her, considering the influx of new mages. People were starting to come to the city from the surrounding farmland, looking to master their new gifts.