by Katie Cross
“Can’t stay. Tell your mam I expect her for tea in the morning.”
With that, Babs spun on her heel and headed back into the trees. Isadora watched her go with a sharp pang in her chest. Babs probably would have stayed if Isadora weren’t there. Sanna and Isadora had been effectively cast out. Socially, at least, because no one dared attempt to send Sanna away. Not with Luteis at her side.
Despite everything changing, not much had changed at all.
The sound of a distant roar, followed by a grumpy shout, made her lips twitch. Sanna was on her way home. Isadora shut the door against a brisk wind.
“From Babs,” she said, setting the basket near the table. “She would like you for tea tomorrow.”
Mam nodded once, weakly.
Silence descended again as Isadora finished the dishes. Just as she’d dried the last plate, set it in a wooden bin on the floor, and turned to hang up her towel, a tiny bird appeared above her. She caught her breath. Mam and Daid hadn’t noticed, lost in their own thoughts. Daid frowned over a slice of bread. Mam pushed her mashed tubers around.
“I need to grab some more firewood,” Isadora said.
Her parents said nothing as she stepped outside, bird following. Bright, turquoise wings beat so fast they hummed. The entire body had a strange, gossamer appearance. She could see right through it. It looked like a hummingbird but much smaller. It dove toward her ear. Isadora held her breath. The command that issued from the delicate bird made her jump.
“My office,” Maximillion barked. “Now.”
She straightened with a scowl. She most certainly would not—
“Yes, you will.”
Isadora rolled her eyes.
“Lucey has been taken by the Defenders.” The bird dissipated into smoke.
Lucey captured? She forced her racing heart to slow. Lucey had been captured by East Guards plenty of times. The Defenders had captured her once, but she’d escaped by sheer luck thanks to a well-placed bridge and a homeless vagrant willing to give her some clothes. Surely this time—
Sanna dropped in front of her with a thud. Leaves filled her hair. “So much for Finn listening to reason,” she muttered. “He’s irrational; did you know that?”
“Expecting anything else from a witch like Finn is bound to disappoint. Avay, Sanna.”
Sanna’s eyes tapered. “What are you doing?”
“Standing here.”
“Something’s wrong.”
Blast having a twin. She never could lie to Sanna.
“I came to see you.”
“But now what?” Sanna asked, batting away a twig that dangled in her hair. “Why do you look so concerned?”
Isadora sighed. “I came to see you, but … now I have to go.”
“You literally just got here.”
“I’ve been here for a few hours.”
“Not for me!”
“I just received news from Maximillion. L—our friend needs my help.”
“Maximillion has friends?”
“Shocking, I know.”
Aside from one cursory meeting, all Sanna knew of Maximillion was what Isadora had told her, and that wasn’t much. For some reason, describing Maximillion in all his curmudgeonly glory seemed impossible.
Behind Sanna, the trees rustled. Isadora eyed the shadows. Despite Sanna’s undying affection for Luteis, Isadora still didn’t feel comfortable around him. He was eerily hot, seething fire and calm at the same time. All the dragons avoided him. Isadora did too.
“What is so important that you have to go now?”
Because Lucey helps run a secretive operation that saves Watchers from the tyranny of the Eastern Network. That’s what.
Isadora bit back the truth. She still hadn’t told Sanna everything. For some reason, sharing that much about her new life felt … wrong. Intrusive. Strangely too much.
“It’s complicated.”
Sanna’s frown deepened. “When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
“We need you!”
“Do you?”
Sanna opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Isadora shook her head. “Even with Talis gone and the old ways abandoned, Mam and Daid still barely talk to me.”
“Of course we need you. I know you fixed parts of the house with magic, and the only reason I didn’t tell Daid is because we’re desperate. I’m not stupid. Besides, you’re a Dragonmaster too. Just because you don’t want to be doesn’t change the fact that you are.”
“I know, Sanna. I just … I have to go.”
“That’s right,” Sanna snapped. “You have a life outside of us now.”
Isadora closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. When she opened them again, Sanna stared at her with the same recalcitrant expression as before.
“A life where I have obligations,” Isadora said calmly. “Sanna, I know it’s hard to understand, but I can really make a difference out there.”
“You shouldn’t have obligations outside your family!”
“You do.”
“I didn’t make a life away from them,” Sanna shot back.
“You lived in the forest with a dragon!”
“Note the with-a-dragon part,” Sanna cried. “That’s what we’re supposed to do. We’re Dragonmasters! Besides, I had to.”
“So do I.”
The rage in Sanna’s eyes seemed to cool all at once. Her shoulders slumped.
“I’m sorry. I’m just … I wish you were here more.”
Isadora smiled softly. “Me too. But even you have to see that I’m not welcome here. No one wants me. Everyone treats me like a … troll.”
“Me too.”
A laugh bubbled out of Isadora. “Maybe we are.”
Sanna snorted. “You, maybe.”
“You’re the one who took over a brood of angry dragons.”
Sanna’s expression turned distant. Her smile faded into a frown. “I didn’t take over. I liberated. Big difference.”
They stood there in the silence until Isadora couldn’t bear it. Maximillion barked incessantly from the depths of her mind. “I have to go, Sanna. I’m sorry I couldn’t see you more this visit.”
A reluctant forgiveness came into Sanna’s gaze.
“I know.”
“You won’t hate me?”
“Hate you? No. Be annoyed with you? Indefinitely.”
“Amo, Sanna.”
“Amo, Isa.”
Isadora disappeared.
Sanna scowled at the empty space.
Before she could head inside, a cry sounded a few paces away from her, drawing her gaze. Rosy and Junis, Sanna’s favorite hatchlings, tumbled into a clearing between the massive trees, followed by their mother, Cara, a beautiful mauve dragon. Talis had broken her wings as punishment and turned her out of the brood. Luteis had burned her infected wings off to save her from dying. Now she walked with a little stumble—her movements weren’t so graceful without the heavy wings—but neither did she seem as weighty. An affectionate glimmer always shone in her eyes when she saw Sanna.
Cara was alone in that respect.
Luteis slipped out of the forest, ears perked up when Cara appeared. He sniffed gently, tracking her as she eased back out of sight. Her two hatchlings tumbled behind her. Junis shoved Rosy away, nipping at her shoulder, but she ran, leapt off a log, and took to the sky. Seconds later, both hatchlings twirled in a wild air dance.
Sanna grinned.
Rosy dove toward Junis, nearly sending Sanna’s heart into a panic. But Junis, his wingspan bigger by several paces, dodged away. He blew fire at her. Rosy hissed in a good-natured way and spun a circle in the air. Sanna smiled. The hatchlings had picked up flight quickly.
Very quickly.
Beyond them, the forest glittered with pockets of emerald and ebony. Color winked every now and then as a forest dragon passed by. The hatchlings are skilled beyond their years, Luteis said, gliding back into the forest. She sensed him more than saw him the
re.
They’ve always been eager to fly, she said, preferring to speak to Luteis in her mind while her parents were in earshot. Mam still couldn’t stand the sight of Luteis. Sanna’s gaze slipped back to the dragons lurking in the shadows. At least they like it.
Rubeis as well.
A dragon with marbled crimson running through sheer black scales sat on a high branch just above the meadow where Daid had built their shack. Rubeis. The hatchlings called it the jumping tree because Luteis had all of them jump off the branch to learn how to glide. The exercise strengthened their wings as well. Rubeis, after eighty years of never flying or using his wings, had more muscle to build than the hatchlings, but he’d been working steadily for the past six months. He didn’t fly high but could stay airborne for more than an hour now.
He did well yesterday, she said to Luteis. A beat of quiet passed, then Rubeis’s head swiveled to look at her, as if he’d heard.
His crash into the tree left a dent in the trunk, Luteis said with some amusement. Such is the fate of any who get in his way, he says. Amusing.
A pillar of smoke blew out of Rubeis’s nostrils. Sanna laughed. Rubeis, a solemn leader, had proven to have more spunk than she’d expected. Daid had taken to him quickly—until he progressed to flight. Then Daid seemed to shrink away, curling up within himself.
Rubeis said he would like to hunt with us tonight.
Luteis communicated with the dragons on her behalf ever since the dragon voices faded away, not long after Talis’s death. Luteis and Rubeis had formed a sort of half-truce. Luteis avoided the brood, and Rubeis managed the dragons. Daid had taken over as a sort of go-between for the dragons and witches. Rubeis told Luteis what was needed from the dragons, and Sanna told Daid.
Slowly, they’d started to introduce the idea of dragons flying, even hunting, for themselves. Aside from Rubeis, the hatchlings, and a young dragon named Elis that could nearly match Luteis for speed, the others hadn’t cared enough to attempt a hunt. Finn continued to hunt for them, making the transition even more difficult. Even Elliot hunted for his dragons every now and then. Only Daid had given it up entirely, and some of his dragons had defected to Finn.
Rubeis opened his wings and leapt free of the tree. He soared between the trunks, slipping out of sight.
Your sister—
“Time for dinner,” Sanna said, whipping around. “Talk to you later.”
Luteis growled as she hurried into the house, letting the door slam shut behind her.
Chapter Five
That night, Sanna lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.
Her thoughts ran in wild, rampant circles. Flashes of the poacher’s blonde hair. The shadow moving ahead of her—what had it been? Should she tell Daid?
Unbidden, Isadora filtered back through her mind.
She rolled onto her side with a huff and wished she could turn her thoughts off. A rock dug into her shoulder. She flipped onto her stomach, but another uneven edge on the ground cut into her ribs. Just before she threw her pillow into a wall, a whisper at the wall caught her attention.
Jesse.
“Are you still awake?” he asked.
She peered toward the sound. Two fingers wiggled near the floor, under a loose log at the bottom of the makeshift wall.
Sanna crawled forward.
“Yes.”
His fingers moved out of the way, revealing an eye. “Want to get some air? Elis is just about ready for our nightly flight.”
“Yes,” she said with relief. “Let’s.”
Jesse met her outside with a rueful grin.
“It’s hot in there,” he said, motioning with a jerk of his head toward his family’s house—more like a shanty—not far away on the other edge of the small meadow. Only Finn lived far enough away they couldn’t see or hear him. “And the kids are loud, even when they’re asleep. Did you know that five-year-olds can snore as loud as a dragon?”
“Not as loud as your daid.”
He grimaced. “You hear it?”
“I think everyone does.”
“You’re probably right.” He eyed her, his face barely visible in the low light. Cool air had settled over the night, twice as chilly as it had been during the day and more keenly felt along her arms and deep in her bones. Still, it felt good. Refreshing. Brisk. A gentle breeze brushed her face. They fell into step together, heading away from the houses.
“Isadora was here,” he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
Sanna scowled. “So?”
“You’re always annoyed after she shows up.”
Surprise rendered her momentarily speechless. Annoyed? She wasn’t annoyed. She was … pensive. He shuffled toward a foot trail, leading them away from the shanty.
“You’re always a little … off after Isadora comes.”
“What does that mean?” she snapped.
He lifted his eyebrows.
She frowned, recognizing the annoyance in her voice, and blushed, flooded with sheepish shame. “Oh. Right. I hear it now. Sorry.”
“What did she do to make you mad this time?”
Sanna rubbed her arms with her hands, grateful they were walking away from the dwellings. Luteis was out hunting. She could still hear him in her head, though. It seemed as if distance mattered less the more time they spent together.
“Isadora didn’t do anything to make me mad. Just … it’s different with Isa, that’s all. And, it’s weird when it’s different. I don’t like it. It’s like … everything else has changed. Why does she have to as well?”
“Things are definitely different.”
She grabbed his arm to stop him from walking. “Do you blame me?” she asked.
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Do you blame me for this?” Her hand gestured to the forest around them. “Do you think it’s my fault we lost everything?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Be honest!”
“I blame Talis, if I blame anyone.”
“Yes, but there was peace when Talis was in charge, wasn’t there? Food? Shelter? Clothes? Now we have nothing.” She turned away, releasing him. Mam rose up in Sanna’s mind. Her stoic silence. Lack of eye contact. “I feel like it’s all my fault.”
“We were enslaved, with no choices. Besides, we didn’t have food, remember? Things were starting to get bleak. We couldn’t have stayed in Anguis forever. And now we can save the forest. Can you imagine if another ten or so years had gone by?” He cast a long eye on Letum Wood. “This would have all fallen apart. Maybe we wouldn’t have had a home after all. You’d probably blame yourself for that.”
Sanna dragged her bottom lip through her teeth. “Yes. You’re probably right.”
“Don’t give yourself so much responsibility, Sanna,” he said with a light nudge of his elbow. “Some of us didn’t like being slaves to the dragons, either. We just didn’t have the guts to do anything about it. You pushed us into action. Which means you’ll push us toward something better.”
She held up two hands. “Whoa. Not my job.”
He sighed. “You’re still fighting it?”
“There’s nothing to fight. I can’t even hear the dragons anymore. Deasylva obviously changed her mind and removed me as High Dragonmaster.“
Jesse sighed. Sanna ignored him.
They continued to walk for several steps, crunching their way through the snow and the carpet of long-dead leaves and twigs. Sanna drew in a deep, appreciative breath. Being back in the trees, even though she’d only been inside a few hours, calmed her thoughts. Her wild turmoil eased to a simmer.
“Elis and I need your help,” Jesse said.
“I—”
“I’m not asking you for help as High Dragonmaster. Just as the only other witch who has really ridden a forest dragon.”
She stalled, mouth half-open, before snapping it closed again.
“Fine.”
“We’re able to fly for over forty-five minutes now. Feels good, too. No h
eat. Just being in the air. Kind of scary at first, but we’ve improved a lot.”
“Where are you flying?”
“We haven’t ventured much above the trees.”
A shuffle and snort sounded on the other side of a curtain of ivy. Elis. Rivers of slate gray rippled through his ebony scales, winking in the darkness. He was a fifty-five-year-old dragon with one of the mildest temperaments in the brood. He and Jesse had bonded a month before—apparently, Elis had always been one of Jesse’s favorite. Jesse never admitted it with Talis looming around all the time. Elis had a broad profile—even for a dragon—with meaty shoulders, a short tail, and unusually small legs.
Amusement flickered through Sanna. Jesse, too, had always been short and brawny.
At first, it seemed odd that a dragon should be motivated on its own to bond with a witch the way Elis had. Luteis took weeks to trust Sanna. Even then, he only capitulated after dire necessity forced him to. Then again, Luteis hadn’t lived with her. Elis had seen Jesse grow up. Had eaten from his hands.
“Don’t rush it,” Sanna said to Jesse, thinking back to her first flight with Luteis, who had already been skilled in the air. Why did Jesse and Elis expect her to know everything? Still, Elis did seem a bit cumbersome. It took him ages to turn around.
“Have you been practicing in the canopy?” she asked.
“Every day. He keeps slamming into trees.”
Without warning, Elis shoved off the ground. His wings unfurled from his back, the thick membrane marbled with crimson veins. Several mighty wingbeats bore him higher, raising him into the tangled expanse overhead. He landed on a tree limb instead of crashing. This time.
“His form is stronger,” Sanna said. “He’s learned when to reach out with his hind legs to land on a branch.”
A puff of pride rang through Jesse’s tone. “He’s doing great, isn’t he? I think it’s because he trusts his instincts more these days.”
Elis soared down from above before crashing into the ground, legs first, digging up several ruts. Both acted like they hadn’t noticed. Elis nudged Jesse with his stubby snout.
“But after we’ve flown for more than an hour, the magic starts to, I don’t know … get kind of weak?”
“Weak?”
