TALIA
Everyone is remarkably calm about seeing an actual dragon flying around the airspace of a major American city. However, my muscles are leaden and my blood has turned to wood. The dragon glides down to land on the grass of the plaza, the ground shuddering slightly beneath its staggering weight.
The creature is red and gold, its iridescent scales catching the glow from the street lamps. Two large, spiky horns run the length of its head, with smaller protuberances running down its face. Golden eyes blink once and then a bright blue light flashes, blinding me momentarily. A sort of sulfurous smell, like when you strike a match, blasts my nose but then is gone quickly.
When I can see again, the dragon has disappeared and a man dressed in red stands in its place. I blink, eyes adjusting after that bright flash. When he steps forward across the grass, I nearly lose my shit.
“Dad?” I say, eyes so round they almost hurt. My father smiles at me so warmly. Like he’s overjoyed to see me. And that’s how I know he isn’t my father.
Rows of soldiers have suddenly appeared on the plaza. They are saluting, fingers on their chins, and Ryin is kneeling, and Shad is bowing, and I’m staring. At my dad. Who is not my dad.
He’s of average height, about five-foot-nine—still half a foot taller than me—and he stands straight and proud, eyes shining with love. His complexion is the color of oak wood with golden undertones, and his hair is cropped much shorter than I’ve ever seen it before. Gone are the carefully coiffed waves he kept in place with a can of sticky pomade he forbade anyone else to ever touch. His mustache is the same, thick and neatly trimmed but now with a few gray hairs showing. He’s dressed in a crimson version of the same uniform Shad and the other soldiers wear.
He steps to me, arms open and reaching, his face filled with joy, and I walk over blindly, not caring that this man was a dragon a moment ago. Not caring about anything else than this crazy impossibility that my father actually wants to hug me.
“Celena, my girl,” he says, wrapping me in warm arms. I even ignore that name and that this embrace was meant for another. He smells of night air and fog and something coppery and tangy. Something I push out of my mind because his arms are tight and warm and squeezing me like his life depends on it.
“Dad,” I repeat, a little guilty. My resolve to be done with this ruse crumbles to ash as he squeezes me tighter.
After the longest hug in the world, he finally pulls away and looks me over with tears in his eyes. “My little girl. Words cannot express how much I’ve missed you.”
My heart thumps rapidly, joy and wonder flooding my veins. I’m still thinking of something to say when he turns away. “Shadrach, report,” he says, voice full of authority and command.
Shad straightens. “King Lyall. As I relayed, we found the princess across the wall. She’d been attacked by a Revoker.”
The king’s eyes sharpen and harden. He takes another look at me and then turns me around as a growl rattles from his chest. Everyone nearby tenses as the sound grows louder.
“I’m okay. I’m fine now,” I rush to reassure him, alarmed by the sound.
“The healer removed the poison and knit her wounds. He assures me that she is otherwise unharmed.” Shad’s voice is tight. I’m glad he omitted the mention of possible torture. I don’t think this Dad would react to that well. “Aside from her memory soul, of course.”
“And the Revoker who dared to injure my daughter?”
“I burned it myself.”
The king narrows his eyes at this, and a strange tension hums between them. Shad continues. “I left two of my best men there to comb the area and sent a team of trackers to find out where the princess came from.” Shad’s manner is oddly detached and formal, especially since my father is apparently his stepfather. But King Lyall doesn’t seem to have any sort of paternal affection for him, either. The whole situation is so strange and strained.
Lyall stares Shad down, more like he’s an enemy than a family member, before turning back to me, his expression instantly softening. “You don’t recall anything of where you’ve been, what could have happened?”
My gaze involuntarily shoots to Shad, whose lips thin as he stares at me. I recall his words. You must be Celena for now. Pretend to be a princess, enjoy the warm and loving father I never knew. It’s like a dream, or at least it could be. But it isn’t real.
I catch a glimpse of Ryin through the ring of soldiers surrounding us. His face is grim, but his attention is on me as well. How can I stay here as a royal in a world and society that enslaves its enemies? I have to tell the truth.
Just as I turn back to the man who looks like my father, shouts rise from down the plaza. The soldiers tighten around me and Lyall whips his gaze around. I can’t see anything because I’m shorter than just about everyone, but booted feet march closer and the shouts and pleas grow louder as well.
“Please! Don’t!” a woman cries. “No, I’ve done nothing wrong!”
Apparently, the men and women around me have determined that the threat is low, so the knot of protection loosens to the point that I can now see what the fuss is. Six soldiers frog march two handcuffed people, a middle-aged man and woman. The pale woman wears a dark brown version of what Ryin has on. Her salt and pepper hair is in a bun and her shouts cease when she catches sight of the king. The captive man has deep brown skin and a long, scraggly beard. He’s emaciated, with sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes, and is dressed in layers of rags. The group draws to a halt in front of us.
“Captain, report,” Lyall barks.
A flinty-eyed woman in black steps forward and bows precisely. “Your Majesty. This one was found scavenging in the waste receptacles.” She jerks a thumb at the obviously malnourished man. “And we caught this one giving him food.” She motions to the woman in brown, who begins whimpering and shaking her head.
The starving man’s dull eyes stare only at the ground. He hangs limply between the two soldiers on either side of him, like he would collapse if they released him.
The king takes a step forward. “You are an exile, are you not?” he asks the man, who doesn’t respond. Lyall sniffs and then focuses his gaze on the woman. His back is to me, so I can’t see his face, but judging by her expression of abject terror, maybe that’s for the best.
“And you. Sharing resources with an outsider. What would impel you to commit such a crime?” His tone is neutral, the query almost casual.
The woman’s jaw quivers, but she visibly composes herself. “H-He was my sister’s husband. And a good friend. Before.” Her head lowers, but Lyall draws closer and tilts it up with a finger to her chin.
“A good friend and a criminal exiled for just cause. Breaking these ties is difficult, I understand, but necessary.” His hand drops from her face, and she exhales in visible relief.
Lyall turns and begins walking back toward me with a contemplative look on his face. My body is drawn tight like I’m ready to run at any moment. Tension thrums through me and a cold wind picks up, reminding me that I’m just in a thin hospital gown. Just as a shiver raises goosebumps all over my skin, Lyall turns around again.
“You were taking them to the locker?” he asks.
The captain nods. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“No need. Let us dispense with justice right now. The penalty for an exile returning to Nimali territory for any reason is death. And just to prove that I am not the heartless king you think me to be,” he addresses this to the woman, “you may carry out the sentence in my stead.”
My stomach drops away. How is that not heartless?
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Your Majesty, I’ve done nothing wrong. I took nothing from anyone else. I shared only my own food with him. I’ve stolen nothing.”
“You have broken the law. That food was not yours to give, it does not belong to you—it was merely given to you for your use. Nimali struggled and suffered to create the food you so carelessly give to an outsider. It is only for Nimali, and this man is no longer one of us.”
The man in question hasn’t moved this whole time. He stares at the ground in obvious defeat. The woman, however, is now trembling where she stands and continues shaking her head.
“I cannot kill him. It…it would b-break my covenant. My daimon would abandon me.”
The king tilts his head. “Not necessarily. The covenant forbids the killing of those who are not actively harming you, but I assure you, this exile is harming you and every other Nimali. Scavengers, outsiders, threaten our entire way of life; they steal our vital resources. If we allow this sort of anarchy to persist, we would still be scrabbling our way back to civilization as we did after the Sorrows. Your daimon may interpret the law as mine does, and if so, your covenant with it will remain intact.”
She’s still refusing, even trying to back away, but with the soldiers holding her, she has nowhere to go.
The king smiles. He’s half facing me so I can see the expression, and it chills me even further.
“My ruling has been given,” he says, speaking just as pleasantly as he has this entire time. “Carry out the sentence I have ordered, or face my wrath. My covenant demands I be obeyed, and you are well aware of the punishment for disobedience.” His eyes are diamond sharp and deadly. The woman’s quaking intensifies.
I actually take a step back, but Shad is there at my side. He grabs my arm, holding me steady. He lends warmth to my chilled body, but it doesn’t penetrate.
I want to call out and try to stop this, but the words die in my throat. I know less than nothing about this world and what goes on here. I have no idea what this covenant is they’re talking about, but the idea of crossing the king locks up all of my muscles. This man is a dragon, after all. Polite voice and loving hugs aside, the dread of the prisoner and taut wariness of the gathered soldiers all point to a man that should not be crossed.
The captured woman lowers her head. Tears stream down her face and her entire body is racked with sobs. My heart goes out to her.
Lyall crosses his arms over his chest and plants his feet. No one else moves.
“I…I have no way to do it,” she finally says, holding up her bound wrists. Defeat is evident in the slump of her shoulders, the softness of her voice.
“Captain, a knife.”
The soldier produces a long knife from the belt of her uniform. So they do have weapons, though these look more utilitarian than those meant for combat. She hands the blade to the woman, who reluctantly grips it.
“Your Majesty, please. Hasn’t he suffered enough? Please don’t make me do this.”
The king merely stares. The soldiers holding the woman push her forward. She stumbles on the flattened grass and approaches the exiled man, whose head is still lowered.
Then he raises his head and nods slowly at her. It’s the only evidence that he’s been aware of what’s happening.
My belly churns. I haven’t had solid food in longer than I can remember, but whatever’s in my stomach feels ready to come up. Tears stream down my face as the woman’s sobs begin again. Her hold on the knife is so tenuous that I’m afraid she will drop it. But she swallows and her grip tightens. With a cry, she slashes out. I shut my eyes tightly and bury my face in Shad’s arm.
A soft thud sounds as a body hits the ground. The woman wails, heart-wrenching cries that speak of misery.
Then she stops so suddenly it’s jarring. A bright glow lights up even the darkness behind my eyelids. I open my eyes and gasp.
The woman’s head is thrown back. She’s caught in a silent scream as light shoots out of her mouth and ears and eyes. It’s something from a horror movie, like she was possessed and then exorcised. Then it’s over and she slumps to the ground boneless. I think she’s dead until a moan rises from her crumpled form.
The soldiers pick her up again none too gently. The dead man’s blood pools at their feet.
“I suppose you were right after all,” Lyall says, dropping his arms. “Your covenant is broken. You are Nimali no more. Exile is your punishment. If you are caught in Nimali territory pilfering any of our resources, you will be killed.” All of this is said in a matter-of-fact voice that holds no malice; he almost sounds bored.
He motions to the captain and she and two other soldiers march away, the woman in tow. “Clean this up,” he orders to no one in particular with a wave of his hand. Then he faces me again.
I’m still plastered to Shad’s side, unwilling to leave, ever.
Lyall frowns at my reaction. “Celena, are you well?” He takes a step forward and I shrink further into Shad.
“Oh my dear girl.” His eyes are liquid pools of concern as he stalks forward and plucks me away from the prince, wrapping me in an embrace that I don’t want. “Without your memory I understand that what you saw must have been a shock. But I assure you, it was very necessary. Our way of life is in constant peril and must be protected at all costs. It is not always a pleasant task, but as king I must make many difficult decisions. Your memory will return when you leash a daimon, but until then, you have much to relearn. Just trust that I do all of this for our well-being. To protect the territory that you will one day rule.”
He pulls away, and I’m glad of it. There was something too warm, too comfortable in his hug. Something my traitorous heart is nearly willing to ignore atrocities in order to feel.
“Your memory may be gone,” he says, “but I know that I saw recognition in your eyes. Earlier, when I first arrived.”
I swallow and blink, clearing my mind. What to tell him? What is the safest thing to say? “It’s true. You’re…familiar. But I don’t know anything about my life or…or this world.” I refrain from staring at the dead man being dragged away.
“You have a strong heart, my girl. And your souls are mighty as well. Whatever ordeal you have faced will only make you stronger. For you are my daughter and there is nothing you cannot overcome.”
His words cause fresh tears to come to my eyes. He is so sincere and so full of love and admiration. Those words coming from that face—familiar but utterly foreign. My mind is a jumble. In some ways, this is everything I’ve ever longed for during lonely evenings seated at the edge of the couch while a happy family of four chats about their day. But the scent of blood still fills the air. The woman’s screams ring in my ears. Exiled for feeding a family member.
There’s obviously no way to tell this man, this king, that I’m an imposter. An outsider, not one of his beloved Nimali, and not his treasured daughter. But continuing this deception…it could be even more dangerous.
You must be Celena for now. It is the only way you will survive.
I’m in an impossible situation. The truth will likely kill me, but the lie—how can I pull it off?
I turn to Shad, who stares at the blood pooling on the grass with a pinched expression. Ryin still stands several feet away. His face is carefully clear, but for a moment there, just a split second really, I catch a glimpse of something he can’t contain. A tear in the fabric of a mask that conceals pure hatred.
In an instant the expression is gone, the rip repaired, but the memory reverberates through me. If I do this, if I play along, then I’m complicit. I’ll be a part of the suffering of Ryin and every other Fai “prisoner of war” held by the Nimali. Of the exiles and those punished for reasons I don’t really understand.
I will be a part of it and that hatred he feels will be for me too. And I’ll deserve it.