CHAPTER FORTY-TWO Maren 
The mood in Irrad was somber at first. Naava’s first order of business was organizing the newly freed dragons to carry the bodies of those that had been imprisoned in the oubliette back to Ilvera, to be laid to rest in the dragon way.
A council consisting of representatives from each of the kingdoms—both from the ruling families and democratically chosen people who were not courtiers—as well as representatives from the Seda Serat and the Aurati, was neck deep in negotiations. Sev and I sat on the council as well, though my input was mostly limited to constantly reminding everyone that the dragons would not agree to participate in the governing and security of Zefed on an official basis. Given how integral Talons had been to the creation and perpetuation of the empire, I found myself saying “no” quite a lot.
When I wasn’t in council, I spent time in Irrad, walking with Tasia by my side. The fires from the dragon battles had torn through the city, but rebuilding efforts had already begun. The vitriol that the tyrant had stoked against the Seratese lingered, in pointed glances and malicious whispers—but such cruelty was punished swiftly and without lenience. I had hope that Zefed would be able to correct this failing, but I supported Zefedi-born Seratese who chose to return to the islands. It was not their duty to improve those who wished them ill.
Efren and Jase returned to Ruzi, escorted by Alora and Braith. And on the sixth day after the battle, my parents arrived in Irrad.
After many songs and many more tears, the story poured out of them. They’d wanted to leave the mountain to find me immediately after Naava had arrived, but they hadn’t had any idea of where I might be. And as more dragons came to the mountain, Ilvera was overwhelmed by the prospect of learning how to live alongside them once again. So instead of rushing off in search of me, they’d sent a letter to Tovin and hoped we would somehow reunite.
They spoke in awe of the sight of dragons flying over the lake—the first in generations—and the ways that Verrans had begun to interact with them. Now that the Zefedi empire had fractured and the dragons had returned, there was hope once again for an independent Ilvera—something my mother had never thought she would live to see. They were alternately furious about the risks I had taken and overjoyed that I was alive, impressed with what I had accomplished—and more than anything else, they wanted to know when I was coming home.
I didn’t know. For all that I longed for the mountains and the lake, there was still so much work to be done. Besides that, I had begun to realize that there was so much more of the world that I yearned to see.
And Sev—we were each other’s touchstone. What relationship we had was tentative and almost unspoken. Some days the only time we spent together was when we fell, exhausted, into bed and immediately into sleep. But occasionally we stole away for a few hours, talking freely about our past lives. Sev told me about his parents and his brother Callum, and I painted pictures of the beautiful mountains of Ilvera. I didn’t leave Kaia out of my stories, and though Sev was quiet when I shared them, he never asked me to stop. He understood that she was a part of who I had been, and that to erase her from memory would be to erase a part of myself. He told me about Piera, too—who she’d been to him as a boy and how sharply her betrayal had cut him. Any jealousy I might have felt was swept away when he confessed how he’d felt nothing when they’d finally kissed—and how his heart now belonged to me.
And eventually, there was more. Slowly, sweetly, gently, more. I’d forgotten that the beginning of a relationship could be simultaneously so exciting and terrifying—like standing at the edge of a cliff and yearning to jump into the water below—and I cherished it. Every touch, every kiss, everything that passed between us felt new and precious. I wasn’t certain what I wanted from him yet. I’d barely had the chance to think about what I wanted for myself. But we still shared dragon dreams.
Everywhere I went, I was known. It was a strange feeling. What power I had was dragon granted, and even when I spoke on the council, my weighty decisions were run through Naava before I took a stand. But most humans regarded me with a certain amount of awe—they saw me as the person who had singlehandedly wrested control of the dragons from the emperor, and that made me an intimidating foe.
It was a power I embraced uneasily, the deferential way people looked at me. But negotiations would come to a close, and I could not commit to staying in Irrad to see every thread tied off. There would always be problems with governance, and I could not pretend I knew how to solve them all. If I took that as my reason, I would stay here forever. And every time a dragon left for Ilvera, I missed the mountain more.
My parents stayed in Irrad for almost a month—the longest they’d been away from Ilvera that I could remember. They refused to set foot in the palace, despite the ways it had been torn down and rebuilt. I didn’t blame them. I couldn’t set foot in the hall that housed the oubliette—never mind that the pit had been filled in, leaving only a smooth stone floor. The scent of those dragons would never be washed away.
Instead they stayed in a Verran-run tavern by the docks and helped with the recovery efforts. When I had the opportunity to steal away from the meetings, I did. Together with Tovin, we walked a lot, and ate, and sang, and wept.
“You’ve changed,” my father said to me one night. Tasia was several months old now, and she had been flying for longer distances. Every time she left me, I felt a stab of unreasonable fear that she wouldn’t return, alleviated only when she landed by my side once more.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted when you sent me downmountain?”
He let out a bark of laughter. “I’m not going to respond to that,” he said, but he still pressed a kiss to my forehead and whispered that he was so, so proud of me.
The negotiations had wrapped up successfully on all sides, I thought, except for perhaps the Dragons. Sev would remain in place as the de facto ruler, but only because there was no one else who could garner the same amount of support. He had announced that he would only remain until the transition from the empire of Zefed into the cooperative kingdoms of Zefed could be completed. As each kingdom would be ruled independently, the representatives from the Seda Serat—including Tovin—left satisfied with the dissolution of the empire, so long as it meant that Zefed would never threaten the islands again.
Which was no longer a problem, after all, since the emperor’s warmongering was due to the scarcity of the mirth wood oil. And because the dragons were now free, Zefed had no need of it. Most of the dragons had chosen to return to Ilvera, to relearn how to live independently with Naava. But a few of them had remained in Zefed, at least for a little while, volunteering to help administer the transition of power and ensure that the border between Ruzi and Old Zefed remained peaceful.
Slowly, the people of Zefed were learning how to interact with the dragons while respecting their autonomy, and without fear. It was going better than I had ever imagined it might. There were kinks in the system to be worked out—the fact that the dragons were not animals of service, for example, and that anything they did on behalf of the empire was a favor, not a duty. Every kingdom would have to maintain their own armies—they would not be able to rely on the dragons to keep the empire safe any longer. But still, I ended each day awed at what I’d had a hand in bringing about.
I had accomplished everything I had set out to achieve when I left Ilvera. Sev and I… I didn’t know what we were. I didn’t want to admit out loud that I was in love with him, though sometimes I whispered it to myself. But he had taken command of the empire. It didn’t matter that it was a temporary arrangement. I had seen firsthand what happened to those who grasped at power, and I didn’t think I could rest easily until he had passed that power on.
I hoped it wouldn’t be too long until he could. He talked about returning to Ruzi almost as often as I thought of Ilvera. When he left Irrad, perhaps Tasia and I would visit him. But first, home.
I was strangely nervous about the prospect, but Tovin had volunteered to come with me. It was a crisp day in almost-winter as we readied our horses for the journey. Tasia was looking forward to the trip—never having been to Ilvera, or even to the mountain, she was excited to see the place that Naava spoke to her about.
We were just about ready to leave when a runner came up to me, panting. “Mistress,” he said. “There’s a visitor for you.”
I looked at Tovin, who shrugged. We weren’t on any particular timetable, and it would be some time before I was back in Irrad. So Tasia and I turned and followed the runner out to the gate, where a young woman stood facing the city, hands clasped behind her back.
“Kaia.” She turned, and I realized I’d spoken her name aloud. My heart thumped painfully in my chest. I’d thought of her often over the last few weeks. I’d known she was still in Irrad, but she’d been careful to avoid me, busying herself with the new Aurati administration. And here she was, and she looked… well.
“How are you?” I said.
“ ‘How are you?’ That’s all you have to say to me?” she said wryly.
“Well, it’s been busy, what with…” I waved my hands, indicating the bustle of activity behind us.
She smiled, just briefly. “I suppose you’re right. Walk with me?”
We climbed to the top of the palace walls and looked out at the city. Most of the debris had been cleared, but it would still be some time before the reconstruction efforts would begin to show. For lack of more suitable quarters, the new government was occupying the palace, though there was an ongoing debate over whether to demolish it and build something new in its place. If pressed, I would have confessed I had very little opinion on the matter—it was something I preferred to leave to the citizens of Gedarin, especially those who lived in Irrad.
“You were right,” she said quietly. “And I was wrong.”
I was surprised. The Kaia I knew would never have admitted to making any kind of a mistake. “About what?” I asked.
“Not everything,” she said. “But it was cruel to leave you like that. And… I think you were right about us. Growing apart.” She turned away from the city, hugging her arms against her body. It was windy up on the wall, and her coat was thin. “I pushed you to make a choice, but I wasn’t prepared for the possibility that I might lose you. You changed so quickly, and I wasn’t ready.”
Once, I’d never thought I would see the day when Kaia truly apologized to me. And now she was—trying, at least. But her words weren’t hopeful. They were tinged with sadness.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I don’t think I was really ready for it either.”
She smiled at me.
That smile. Once, that smile would have made me swoon. Now it just made me feel the loss of a different time, a different life.
“Tovin and I are going to visit Ilvera,” I said. “Would you like to come with us?”
She shuddered theatrically. “Not now. Everyone there knows me as I was. Not as I am.”
“Then what will you do?”
She looked out toward the ocean. “I’m staying here for now. There is a place for me with the Aurati. I know your feelings about them, so I won’t say any more.”
I nodded. Kaia was right—I still harbored a deep well of fury over what the Aurati had done to her. But this was her choice, and it was no longer my place to speak so stridently about it. Instead I took her hand and held it tightly in mine, stroking her thumb. “It’s going to be all right,” I said.
“Maren—” She choked on my name, her eyes shining with unshed tears. I pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“We’re always going to be family,” I whispered.
Her voice came out muffled and low. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
And I found that I meant it.
It was still difficult to watch her descend the wall and melt back into the city, but this time it was a dull ache in my chest—not a debilitating pain. I knew that someday, thoughts of Kaia wouldn’t hurt me at all anymore.
I found Sev playing cards in a courtyard with one of Davina’s cousins, a young Seratese man who had decided to stay in Irrad for a time. But when Sev saw me, he excused himself and came over.
“Is it time?” he said.
I nodded.
“And there isn’t anything I can do to persuade you to stay?” He was mostly joking, but I could still hear the yearning in his voice.
I rolled my eyes. “I won’t be that far away,” I said.
“Ah, but you know I’m a terrible correspondent.”
He leaned into me, pressing his forehead against mine and closing his eyes. “You know none of this would have been possible without you. You changed the world, Maren. My heart.”
Tera’s bones, when he talked like that, I wanted to stay.
But there were so many places I wanted to see, so many things I wanted to do. I wasn’t ready to make a home with Sev—not as an empress, nor a queen. So I simply kissed him, letting him sweep me off my feet once more.
“Write me when you leave for Ruzi,” I said finally. “Or come up the mountain.”
“I’m sure your parents would love a Zefedi prince coming to woo their daughter,” Sev joked.
I grinned at him. “You’re welcome to try,” I said. “When the time is right.”
His eyes glowed with determination. “Then I will.”
Our journey took four days by horseback and was completely, wonderfully uneventful. Only the changes in the landscape bore witness to everything that had come to pass since I had left, all those months ago. Tasia flew above the horses for hours at a time, though she still took breaks to ride with me.
“Everything’s changed,” Tovin said. The dragon fortress had been completely dismantled and burned out—as I understood it, Naava offered to accompany any dragon that wished down to the ruins so that they too could let loose their fury. Even now I could smell the smoke and ashes in the air.
But the inn that had long stood at the base of the mountain was transformed even more surprisingly. Now that the dragons had returned to Ilvera, there was a certain contingent of Zefedi people who wanted to visit them, and the inn was bustling with friendly energy when we stopped in for the night. It was an unexpected and welcome change, and I hoped it would mean the revitalization of our Verran nation.
The next morning Tovin and I stood at the base of the mountains, ready to climb. I wasn’t back in Ilvera for good—too much of the world had been opened up to me. But the mountain would always have my heart. And when I looked up and saw the sky full of dragons, their song ringing through the air, I knew I was home.