CHAPTER TEN Sev 
When I open my eyes, I don’t immediately understand what I’m seeing.
Maren. Maren, standing in a wide field of light, her long hair flowing out around her face. I reach out a hand, and she steps toward me—out of the light and into my arms. We embrace, and I’m surprised by the way she wraps her arms tightly around me. This cannot be real.
“I’m dreaming.” I must be, if she is here, with me.
“A true dream,” she says, and then, as if something is dawning on her, “A dragon dream.”
“What?”
Her entire demeanor changes. She draws back, speaking quickly. “We don’t have much time. Where are you?” She looks around, as though trying to draw a conclusion from what little there is to see in this one room.
“The emperor’s palace in Irrad. I’m being forced to play the part of a loyal prince. Where are you? Are you with the dragon?” I say.
“Of course!” Maren says. Then, “Wait—which one?”
“The one that destroyed Lumina,” I reply. “They’re talking about it here.”
The corners of her mouth pull down. “Naava is gone. I’m with Kaia and the dragon kit. I’m not sure where we are now.” She looks around. “Somewhere in Oskiath, south of Belat Forest. A small village. But are you all right?”
Am I all right? I can’t answer that question. She must see something in my expression, though.
“Sev, what is it?” she asks, her voice skating across my skin. I want so much to hold her again—but if this is a true dream, then I can’t have her. She must notice the splints on my hand because she exclaims, “And what happened to your hand?”
“Don’t worry about me,” I say, brushing off my longing. “But the emperor is hunting you.”
She shakes her head. “We’re coming for you. Hold on.”
I fell out of dreaming and into the waking world.
The sounds of rattling and running feet came down from the rooms above mine. Who would be running in the palace at this hour, and for what purpose? But that was a minor question compared to the bafflement I felt in the aftermath of my dream.
I’d experienced something similar yesterday, a flash of vision that had disappeared as quickly as it had come. With everything else that had happened, I hadn’t given it further thought. But now… What had that been? Maren had called it a dragon dream. I wasn’t familiar with the term, but it seemed to be some strange bridging of the minds, such that I could see her truly, wherever she was. I was almost breathless as I considered the possibility. Such a power, if real, could be invaluable.
It had been so good to see Maren, who was by all appearances well, though there had been a smudge of dirt on her face I would have given much to wipe off with my thumb. We’re coming for you. Her promise washed away my despair from the previous night.
I slid out of bed and availed myself of the bathing chamber before I remembered Piera’s note. I took the paper out of my pocket and unfolded it once more. I considered my options. It was too dangerous to carry the note with me, but I couldn’t leave it here, either.
Did I really need to reply? Either I would appear in the gardens tonight or I would not. The reward of being able to send a message did not outweigh the risk I took to keep the note until I had need of the paper. So I ripped it into small pieces and shoved them into my mouth, and grimaced as I swallowed. Just in time, as the door opened on the other side of the curtain and someone entered the chamber.
I peeked out from behind the curtain to see a servant set a platter of food down on the table. I waited until he had left before sitting down. I wasn’t hungry, but today would be full of trials. My body needed fuel.
I had eaten almost a full plate of rice and pickled vegetables when I realized that there was something under one of the serving plates, tucked so neatly out of the way that I had almost missed it. I lifted the edge of the plate carefully and palmed the item, then hid it underneath the surface of the table.
It was a flower petal, large and white—a Rima flower. If I crushed it in my fist, it would release a sweet, tangy scent into the air. The Dragons were finally reaching out to me. The petal was to open communication, a request to the receiver for information. They had not included anything that indicated that a rescue mission was in play. Perhaps that would have been too dangerous a message to send, but my more cynical side wondered if they intended to rescue me at all.
I shouldn’t have felt so resentful, but I did nevertheless. Maren’s words had stung when she had criticized the Dragons. It had been easy to join them when they had been a convenient vehicle for my desire for revenge. But during the time I’d spent with Maren, I had come to believe in something better than the continuation of the empire and the exploitation of the dragons.
But beggars couldn’t be choosers, even if it looked like I was on my own as far as any escape plans went. Maren. I inhaled sharply, reminding myself. She was coming for me. If I believed the dream had been true—and if I believed she would make it. Getting into the emperor’s palace was not the same as infiltrating Lumina. And she was alone now, except for the kit and Kaia. I could hope, but I could not plan on her. I slipped the petal into my pocket and returned to my wardrobe to select an outfit for the day.
I was surprised when Faris appeared with a jacket over her arm. She unfolded it and held it up. It was bright red and studded with clear jewels that winked in the light—gaudy enough to compete with anything I had seen at the gathering last night. She had also brought a new pair of shoes to match. They were flimsy palace slippers, not made for anything more strenuous than lounging. Together these would be enough to make me out to be just the sort of pandering prince I had always despised. Perhaps the simple act of wearing them would be enough to convince anyone who saw me that I was not the correct candidate to carry their banner against the emperor.
I took the clothing and retreated into the bedroom to change.
Once I was ready, we left my chambers—how quickly I was beginning to think of them as my chambers—and proceeded to the front of the palace. An array of armed guards fell in line behind the two who had been guarding my door.
“Don’t you think I should be armed?” I said. “I mean, the emperor seems to think that all of this security is necessary.”
Faris laughed. “Nice try.”
“I’m serious. As a prince, I will be expected to wear a blade in public. Do you want me to look like a prisoner to them?” I hid a smile as I watched her consider. I was right, and she knew it.
She paused, then told one of the guards to give me a small dagger and a belt.
“This is a child’s knife,” I protested, fumbling to secure the belt around my waist. The healer’s ministrations had accelerated the healing process, but my injured hand still made me clumsy.
“And it’s all you’re going to get,” Faris said. “Come along.”
The palace doors were heavy and required the full force of four men, two on each side, to push open. I imagined that stepping forth from within them would make me feel lighter, but instead there was only dread as I saw what awaited me.
Rafael stood in an open carriage, an unexpectedly pleasant smile on his face. It took a moment to see why—the courtyard was large, but the gates leading into the city proper were made of iron bars, and there was an audience of commoners outside. They were all silent.
The emperor’s was the second carriage in a parade of six, each led by a team of four horses. Foot soldiers stood at attention around each carriage. Acutely aware of the observers, I stopped a safe distance from the emperor and executed an extravagant bow. Rafael inclined his head magnanimously. I watched him notice my knife, then glance at Faris.
He frowned minutely, but raised a hand and bade me approach. One of the guards opened the carriage door and bowed as I passed him and stepped up. Besides the emperor and me, there were four more in the carriage: three guards and an unfamiliar Aurat. The only empty space was next to Rafael himself, and I settled into it reluctantly.
“My emperor,” I said through clenched teeth.
Being this close to him after last night made my injured hand tremble, and I hated it, hated the fear that had crept into my body without permission.
I wanted to take my dagger and stab him through the neck, though if I did, I would not leave this place alive. More and more, this seemed like the inescapable ending foretold by the Aurati. By the shadow prince’s hand the flame will fall. They had said nothing about what would happen afterward.
But instead of reaching for the blade, I thought of Maren—the fierce determination in her eyes as she’d vowed to come for me. So I forced my hand to loose its grip, to wave at the crowd. The foot soldiers marched out in front of us, clearing the road for drummers and dancers waving red and silver ribbons. The carriages crawled forward.
The emperor leaned toward me, keeping his voice low. “Remember, you are a representative of the empire. Smile.”
We passed through the gates and into Irrad. The city had been designed in concentric circles around the emperor’s palace and grounds, which stood fortified with walls and gates and guards. The streets were populated by Gedarin nobility, many of whom lined the parade route, clapping politely. They looked loyal enough to my untrained eye, if not particularly enthused.
Of course they would support him, if not because of loyalty, then because of their own security. The emperor was seizing food and resources from the poor, not the wealthy. The nobility would have no reason to complain, because they were not the ones under threat.
Rafael raised a hand, and the procession halted. The drummers stopped, and silence fell in their stead. The emperor stood, glancing at me. I did the same. All eyes were on us.
“My people, we have been blessed by the recovery of one of our own, a citizen I long thought was lost,” the emperor shouted. He grabbed my hand and held it up. “I give you Vesper Severin Avidal, prince of Ruzi, by my side once more!”
Vesper. I couldn’t contradict him in front of an audience, so instead I waved as the carriage trundled forward, plastering a smile on my face. The crowd applauded loudly. There were only a few scattered cheers, something I took as an indication of the general conduct of this district rather than a statement of how excited they were, or weren’t, by my appearance.
The sun shone brightly in my eyes, making me squint, but I smiled and waved nonetheless. It didn’t seem as though the emperor expected more from me, which was a relief as we moved into the next district, which housed mostly merchants and highly skilled artisans—still wealthy, still complacent. The quality of the roads did not change as we moved farther away from the center of the city. The buildings, on the other hand, did. They grew taller and thinner, the space between them shrinking from elaborate gardens to narrow alleys. Every so often the carriages would halt for the emperor to repeat his speech. And every time I smiled and waved in the same way.
More people crowded the parade route as we reached the poorer districts, waving Zefedi flags without much muster. It seemed likely they had been bribed or threatened to appear. They were quiet, too—sullen and ragged and watchful. These were the peasants who frightened the emperor. The movement rising against him had a presence here, I was certain of it. That soldiers in uniform and several Aurati were dispersed throughout the crowd made it clear that the emperor knew it as well. And I had been tasked with convincing them that their mythical hope did not exist.
We reached the market gates, and the carriages stopped once more. Rafael rose to his feet, and I rose mechanically next to him. By this time I wasn’t even listening to the speech—the sound and timing of it had sunk into my consciousness, so I was surprised when I realized the emperor had fallen silent and was looking at me expectantly.
“Um—”
“Address the people,” he whispered, barely moving his lips.
So it was as I’d suspected—the wealthier districts we’d passed hadn’t mattered. This was the real test. My speech from the palace last night wouldn’t convince many people here. Think. What would a truly loyal subject say?
“People of Irrad,” I called. “We face… troubling times. But our emperor, the Flame of the West, has guided us in ways no one else could have done. Today is a day for unity!”
I cleared my throat, unsure of what to say next. It was sickening enough that I’d been forced to say that much.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw something fly toward us and I ducked. It fell short, thwacking against the siding of the emperor’s carriage. Only then did I see that it was a rotten cabbage. We watched it roll to a stop on the ground in silence.
One man’s voice called out, “Down with the tyrant! Down with the pretender prince!”
Almost immediately more voices joined his, resolving into a chant. “Down with the emperor! Down with the tyrant!”
Tyrant. Only Maren had consistently called Rafael a tyrant. I’d rarely heard the word out of the mouth of a Zefedi. But here they were, and they were angry enough to risk the emperor’s ire firsthand. The soldiers rattled through the crowd, but it was of no use—the chant spread like wildfire, rising up into a wall of sound assaulting us from every side.
I looked at the emperor. He was still smiling, but his eyes had turned cold and cruel. He raised a hand to his lips and let out a whistle that pierced through the shouts. For a moment there was no response. Then two Talons streaked across the sky overhead. They circled once, then landed atop buildings on either side of the parade route, staring down at us like birds of prey selecting their next targets.
“Silence!” he shouted.
The quiet that followed was absolute.
Rafael’s personal guard pushed through the crowd, though I didn’t know how they were going to identify the cabbage thrower. Everyone in this district looked the same: angry, underfed, and overworked. In the distance I could hear the sounds of the army training on the beaches, the call of seabirds.
Soon the guards returned, dragging one unlucky person to stand at the front of the crowd—a young man in a faded and torn army uniform, his face like stone.
The emperor raised his hands. “One of my own has returned to me, the lost prince of Ruzi, Vesper himself. And this is how you show your gratitude, your respect?”
Oh no. I knew what was coming, but there was no way to avoid it.
The Flame of the West dismounted from the carriage and beckoned to me. I moved woodenly after him. Once we stood before the man, the emperor turned to me, and I could see the malice and glee in his eyes. He was enjoying this. Cold understanding hit me like a blow. The night at court, the waves and speeches, all meant nothing. What was about to happen—this was the price of proving my loyalty.
The emperor took a sword from a nearby soldier and held it out to me. “Prince Vesper, I charge you to dispense justice on my behalf. Execute this man for treason against the crown, immediately.”