by Katy Haye
I used a turn of the steps to touch my hand to her head through the cloak and silently beg her to keep quiet. Then we reached the performance area and noise hit me like a solid thing. I was worrying for nothing. The dragonette could scream her loudest cry and no one would hear.
“Here. Take a seat.”
The seats were actually benches, set against three sides of the room. The place was packed full, but room was found for us, and for those who followed us up the steps. We were at the back, for which I was grateful. Easier to escape, if escape turned out to be needed.
“You’re in for a treat.” The Surranese youth sat so close his shoulder and hip touched mine. I had to shift the dragonette carefully so she curled on my lap, my cloak bunched up to give the illusion that the lump was just fabric. “You’ll be hot in that,” he told me, glancing in my direction for long enough to give that piece of advice, but not long enough for me to see his face properly.
“I feel the cold.” I put back my hood, but I couldn’t take the cloak off fully.
He laughed gently. “You’ll boil.”
I was sure he had the truth of it. No wonder the windows had been thrown open. The room was hot and airless. I watched my new friend, whose attention was on the middle of the room where space for the entertainers had been set aside. I cleared my throat. “Thank you. For paying for me. That was very kind.”
“My pleasure.” He answered without looking around.
“Why did you do it?”
He turned then, as though surprised to be asked. I saw his eyes for the first time. Soft brown, the colour most common to Surranese people, more golden than my own Muirland brown. Something inside me twisted, and I looked away.
“Why wouldn’t I help a pretty girl who hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing a Surranese troupe perform?”
“Pretty?” I touched my fingers to my face, checking that my disguise was still in place. Had I made myself pretty? Not by design. I intended to be easy to overlook.
He grinned. “You’re pretty. Are you fishing for more compliments?”
I dropped my hand. “Certainly not.”
He continued to watch me, his gaze darting from one feature to the next. My skin heated beneath his regard. “You have beautiful eyes,” he told me.
Beautiful eyes faked by magic. The flush in my face flooded my entire body, but he was already facing the front as though he hadn’t spoken.
A drum beat boomed over the noise in the room, so suddenly that I jumped. The dragonette gave a startled snap, but the noise was fortunately hidden by the reaction of the crowd. The performance was beginning.
Despite everything on my mind, I craned forward as four people entered the room, two men and two women, all dressed in figure-hugging clothes that emphasised their height and the slender strength of their limbs.
They were beautiful when they simply stood in front of us. When they began their acrobatic moves, they were astonishing.
Every movement was co-ordinated and deliberate. The men knelt down and held their hands out, palms uppermost. The women placed their palms against the men’s palms. And then they threw up their legs, making handstands so their weight was carried entirely by the men. The men lifted their arms, pushing the upside-down women higher, until their pointed toes nearly touched the ceiling. The women split their legs, so flexible their limbs formed a straight line in the air. They shifted their hands from the men’s hands to their shoulders, and the men turned in a circle while the women remained perfectly still. The noise of before was a memory now; silence held as we all watched, breathlessly.
Then the women dipped their elbows and flipped themselves away from the men, tucking into a somersault in the air before landing on the far edges of the performance area.
The audience erupted in applause, but there was plenty more to come. They tumbled next, throwing themselves into a complicated pattern of jumps and somersaults that seemed as though they must surely collide, although somehow they never did.
They finished with a traditional dance, the women wrapping skirts around their waists before starting the steps. This, I had seen before. I wondered if my father had taken tonight’s singer to his bed yet.
I shifted, the reminder of palace life making me realise how long I’d been away. I’d be missed soon, if I hadn’t already.
Applause broke out. I joined in, but I was looking around the room, assessing the best route to reach the door the performers had entered by, which I assumed they would walk out of any moment.
The youth beside me turned at my restless movement, his eyebrows lifting in query.
“Thank you.” I had to shout over the racket of the crowd clapping and cheering. “I’ll remember that performance my whole life. But I have to go now.” I started to move, trying to figure out how to get the dragonette back under my arm without him noticing.
He nodded and leaned towards me, his hand on my arm to keep me still. He leaned so close that his lips tickled my ear as he spoke, his voice so soft there was no chance we could be overheard. “Does the reason you’re so keen to speak to the troupe have anything to do with the dragonette you’re hiding in that voluminous cloak of yours?”
6 – What are you Carrying?
My mouth opened, but the denial that sprang instinctively to my lips died there. It only took a glance at his steady gaze to know he wouldn’t be fooled. “How did you know?” I asked instead.
“I could smell it,” he murmured.
“Smell it?” Was he joking? He didn’t look like he was speaking in fun, but what did I know of Surranese humour? I took a deep, experimental inhalation. All I could detect was the stench of the people still leaving the room. I realised with a jolt that the place was nearly empty. There was no sign of the troupe. “I have to go.”
“Wait.” He halted my rise with a hand on my arm. “You don’t need the Black Diamonds. They won’t help you.”
“You don’t know that.” Alarm gripped me. Was he right? Had I come all this way for nothing? I glanced at the window. It was late. A guard might have alerted the captain to my absence by now. Or my father. I’d acted on impulse after today’s announcement and the maid’s punishment, and my lack of a plan was unravelling now. “You don’t even know what I want.”
His hand tightened, hot through my cloak. “You want someone to look after the dragonette you stole out of the palace tonight, and I can help you.”
Fear dropped my stomach to the ground a storey below us. I stilled and faced him. Panicking wouldn’t help. “Why would you do that?” I shook myself. His motivation didn’t matter. “Do you know how to take care of a—” I dropped my voice to ensure no one could hear, “—a dragonette?”
“Even better, I know how to hide it.” Without warning, he plunged his hand inside my cloak. I twitched as the side of his arm brushed against the front of my dress. Then his fingers slid against my arm as he reached the dragonette, his fingers spanning its back, slipping between its body and its furled wings. The creature gave a low, welcoming croon, and then there was silence. “See?” He flicked the edge of my cloak aside.
“Hey!” I tried to grab the cloth, before I realised that there was nothing beneath the cloak. At least, there appeared to be nothing. Yet, the dragonette was still warm against my side, my arm curved around her. I shifted my hand. I could feel the dragonette’s rough skin beneath my fingers, but my vision looked straight through to the skirts of my dress.
“How—”
A smile twitched the edges of his lips. “Magic.”
I gasped, looking around. We were the only people in the room now, fortunately. “You can do magic?” I hissed.
He lifted a shoulder. “She can do magic, more to the point.” He nodded to the place where the dragonette was.
“Dragonettes have no magic.” Everyone knew that. If magic was at work, it must be the youth’s – and he was courting a death sentence. Not a mage – and a foreigner, to make matters worse. He wouldn’t even live long enough to be thrown from the cliffs; th
e mages would kill him where he stood.
He shook his head, his smile widening. “They certainly have magic. They just don’t have the kind of magic your mages can steal. They’ve plenty for their own use. I simply persuaded the creature to use it – for her own safety.”
My head was ringing. My fingers found the dragonette’s head, rubbing the spot that made her push into my hand for more caresses. They had magic. They weren’t the helpless descendants of dragons that we’d assumed them to be. And our mages didn’t know everything. Ha! I’d long suspected that, and I was glad to have confirmation.
I looked at the youth. I’d wanted someone who would look after the dragonette and get her safely out of Muirland. Had fate really placed the perfect person in my path?
He grinned. “Hello, miss. My name is Lyo, and I believe I’m the answer to your problems.”
“She needs to get to the fae. Will you take her?”
“The Firethorn Mountains are my next destination after Muirland City.”
He was still smiling as though he expected me to fall on his shoulder with gratitude. I straightened. Life was never that easy. “What’s in it for you? What’s your price?”
His gaze met mine. All trace of humour vanished from his expression. “You work at the palace. I need to know the layout, where the guards are posted.”
A buzz sounded in my ears and I swallowed down my sudden alarm. “You were following me.” I tried to stay calm. He’d said that I worked at the palace; he believed I was a servant. He didn’t know who I was. I rubbed my nose, surreptitiously checking that it hadn’t sprung back to its usual form. I was disguised; he couldn’t know who I was.
“From city square,” he agreed. “I know you came from the palace.”
One of the inn’s staff came inside, banging the door back against the wall. The floor rattled. “Performance is over, time to go home.”
“Come on.” Lyo plucked at my elbow and got to his feet. He was tall and slim, like most Surranese people. I found my gaze going up and up and stood too, although that didn’t equal our heights as much as I might have liked. “I’ll see you back,” he said. “We can talk on the way.”
Lyo and I clattered down the stairs and out to the street. The city had changed again while we’d been inside, and night’s silence stole over the houses as the inns closed their doors. It was darker now, lights shuttered inside houses, our only illumination the moon and stars overhead. I stopped when the inn door slammed behind us, the bolts sliding audibly home.
“We can talk here.” I didn’t want to lead him back to the palace. Not when I didn’t know what he wanted there.
I shifted, hitching the dragonette to a more comfortable position against my side.
“You can let her go,” Lyo recommended. “She won’t stray far.”
I didn’t ask how he knew – his knowledge of dragonettes was clearly far ahead of mine. I moved again, shifting my hands to provide a base for the dragonette’s clawed feet, then pushing her up. Her weight left me. I assumed she’d flown into the air. Then Lyo moved, taking a sudden, staggering step forward, his shoulder twisting. I looked closely and saw the fabric of his shirt crease and move. The dragonette had landed on his shoulder in a way it had always declined to do for my father. It seemed she had decided whose pet she wished to be.
He met my gaze. I didn’t realise I looked anxious until he assured me, “I’ll take good care of her. I know her value.”
“They’ll hunt for her. You’ll have to be careful.”
“They won’t find her.”
I had no reason to trust him, but I did. The dragonette liked him, and it didn’t like my father. That was judgement enough for me. But there were still limits to my trust.
I folded my arms. “What do you want to get inside the palace for?”
He regarded me steadily, then indicated for me to walk with him as we started the journey back towards city square. “I think it’s best I don’t tell you that, don’t you think? I wouldn’t want you to be punished for something I’ve done.”
“Do you mean harm to the king?” I didn’t suppose I’d get a straight answer if that was his intention, but I hoped I might be able to read something in his face if he lied to me.
“No. Not directly.” He sighed. “You’re loyal to your king, I understand that. I plan to steal something from him, not harm him or his family – or his servants.”
The strange sensation from earlier overcame me once more as I looked into his eyes. I focused on our conversation. “What do you plan to steal?”
“Again, I think it’s best if you don’t know. His servants are sure to be questioned.”
That was true enough. And he was right, it was safer if I didn’t know his exact plans. Probably it was a piece of jewellery, something that had been sent from Surran, perhaps, that he felt should be returned. “I could fetch it for you,” I found myself offering.
He watched me a moment and then shook his head. “You’ve already relieved the king of what you thought he should lose. I’ll deal with this. I said I don’t want you to get into trouble for my actions, and I meant it.”
“I’m only a servant. I don’t matter.” It was as though my disguise had taken me over. Why was I so keen to help him?
He made an impatient noise. “Of course you matter.” He stared up at the star-scattered sky and raked a hand through his hair. “That’s what’s wrong with this country – and with Surran, too, truth be told. Everyone matters. If you have a privileged position, it’s because the gods have smiled on you and you should look for ways to serve them in gratitude, not take your status for granted and trample upon those beneath you.”
My mouth opened. I’d heard that the Surranese held radical ideas, and that they hadn’t grown out of worshipping the old gods, but I’d never heard their philosophy stated so baldly. Lyo clearly believed what he said. He was certain that the gods made all people equal, and that privilege was a gift the gods could give or remove as they chose.
I shook my head. They were the same gods that we’d dismissed years ago, choosing to trust in the mages and their magic. Things that could be seen and touched and used, not imaginary people who interfered with human affairs on a whim.
“I hope you don’t say that to everyone you meet,” I told him.
He laughed, sudden and bitter. “I have the sense to hold my tongue here. I want to help the Surran prince, and I can’t do that if I’m dead.”
“And yet you’ve told me,” I pointed out. “I could denounce you.” Not that religion was a capital matter. He wouldn’t be killed for it, just mocked.
He raised his brows. “The maid who stole the king’s dragonette and handed her over to a Surrana refugee? You’re in even more trouble than I am. I don’t think I have anything to fear from you.”
“You think this binds us together?” I shouldn’t have let myself become entangled with his affairs, even with that odd sense that I could trust him not to do me harm.
“For tonight only. I’ve helped you get rid of the dragonette. You’ll help me find my way through the palace, and then we’ll be even.”
I nodded. That was fair enough. There was no reason for us to ever see each other again after tonight. A strange sense of loneliness stabbed through my chest, but I ignored it. I would see him no more. A Surranese refugee could have no place in my life, not when I was about to ally myself with the Surran king.
“Lyo?” The voice came out of nowhere. I spun, and a shape detached from the shadows. A girl, about the same age as me and Lyo, and with his skin tone. A fellow refugee. She was scowling. “What are you doing here? And who’s she?” Her nose wrinkled, as though she could smell something off. “And what are you carrying?”
Lyo – Over by Dawn
The palace maid wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Not in the least servile, to begin with. That didn’t match what he’d learned about the royal court and how it treated those it believed to be its inferiors. Servants knew their place. And then there was the f
act that she’d calmly walked out of the palace with the king’s pet under her arm.
That would surely be a capital offence, and yet she was more concerned that the creature should be well cared-for than for her own safety. It was lucky she’d crossed his path, he told himself. Someone else might have exploited her. The idea of another Surrana taking advantage of her made heat rise in him, while he pushed away the awareness that he was extracting his own price for helping the girl. That was different.
Most surprising of all was that she seemed utterly uninformed about magic. He knew the Muirlanders kept their women ignorant for reasons that no doubt made sense to them, but it seemed strange that she couldn’t recognise magic. Especially when she was clearly using it herself.
Still, intriguing or not, the girl wasn’t the focus of his attention. There was no time to figure out her complexities. Lyo had come to Muirland to fulfil a particular task, and she could help. The girl falling into his lap so easily was a piece of good fortune he hadn’t expected.
After weeks spent observing the guards to see their patterns and learn how to make his way into the palace, he’d found a girl who could get him safely in and out tonight. All this could be over by dawn, and then they could leave this cursed country and return to Surran – with Prince Ryss at their head and an army behind them. King Zalar wouldn’t stand a chance.
That was the plan unfurling in his head as he chatted to keep the girl distracted while they retraced her steps to the palace. It was all going perfectly until Kiri stepped into view, demanding to be a part of matters he’d told her to stay out of.
Gods created sisters to try brothers, he was sure of it.
7 – Just Play Along
