A pronunciation guide for this world can be located from the Contents page.
Oshali panted, the slap of her feet echoing off the walls as she charged along the corridor to the farewell archway.
Midday was approaching fast, so she scrunched the skirt of her robes into her fists, holding them out of the way as she powered energy into her legs. It was completely undignified to run like this, but she couldn’t miss her friends’ departure.
As she turned into the final corridor, she slowed to a quick walk, dropping her robes and smoothing the wrinkles with her palms as they swung down to her ankles, but when she glanced up, she slowed again at sight of Silette and Joren embracing.
Oshali averted her eyes, not wanting to embarrass her two closest friends. She took the opportunity to catch her breath, willing her pounding heart to calm as she ran her hands through her flyaway hair. Both Silette and Joren had been acting strange over the last few years. Unnecessary touches on each other’s arms, lowered whispers whenever Oshali was leaving or approaching, furtive glances between them that she ignored and pretended not to see…. It made their trio of a friendship awkward, and she wished that things were how they used to be, but adulthood changed things. According to what she’d learned from her studies, it always did.
She glanced ahead, now walking so slowly she was in danger of tripping over her own feet. Her best friends still stared at each other, Joren’s large hands on Silette shoulders, and Silette’s fingers clutching his forearms. They weren’t saying anything, but their gazes always seemed to communicate so much.
Oshali wondered if she should simply wait, give them time to say their good-byes, but midday was almost here—they were nearly out of time. Just as she came to a stop, Silette turned to peer down the corridor, and the spell between her and Joren broke. “I knew you would be late.” She grinned wryly, dropping her hands as Joren dropped his. He turned to Oshali, but his eyes still lingered on Silette.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Oshali insisted as she surged forward again. “Training was longer today.”
“What did you expect?” Silette grinned. “You’re aiming for your Gowns. Did you think it was going to be like our one-hour study sessions?”
Oshali made a face. “I expected them to, at least, let me leave earlier so I could say good-bye to my friends.”
Silette held out her arms and Oshali ran into them, throwing her arms around her friend and squeezing tightly. “You know the Mheyu don’t value that kind of thing,” Silette murmured, holding Oshali just as tightly. “There’s no family here, remember?”
It was true. The Mheyu Guardians could never give that to her—they couldn’t give it to any of the orphans they raised. It wasn’t their purpose. Oshali didn’t blame them, but she had always needed more. She craved a family, and not just that. She wanted to belong. As much as the Mheyu’s sanctum provided a safe environment for the children who found themselves abandoned in the Realm, it wasn’t a real home. At least, not how homes were described in almost all the texts they had studied.
Finally Silette released her, and they stepped back, gripping each other’s shoulders as they smiled. If it hadn’t been for the stilted behavior between Silette and Joren, Oshali wasn’t sure she would’ve noticed just how beautiful her friend had become. The wildness of her flame-red hair matched the boldness in her emerald gaze, and everything about her radiated joy and excitement—from her laugh to the glow of her snowy skin, causing Oshali to experience a sudden, strange resentment toward her that took awhile to shake. The Mheyu would say that beauty was irrelevant, but it was beautiful people who seemed to achieve the most amazing feats, have the best adventures, be desired by the worthiest people, and had the most beautiful songs written about them. Oshali wanted those opportunities. It had taken some time for her to come to terms with the idea that she would never have such beauty. Her scraggly, black hair was flat and boring no matter what she did to it, and her slanted, brown eyes were unremarkable. None of the beauties in all the history they had studied had ever been as dull-looking as her. But that wasn’t Silette’s fault.
Joren moved to stand beside them, creating the familiar triangle position they always defaulted to, and for a fleeting moment, Oshali imagined everything was once again as it had always been.
The three of them had all arrived at the sanctum at the same time as babies, needing protection from the worst of the realm. They became friends at the age of three, unwilling to be apart from each other, and at five they vowed to always remain so. They’d studied together, created mischief, shared their thoughts and feelings about everything they learned. It wasn’t as though they didn’t develop friendships with the other foster children, but their trio was special—no matter how much they bickered. Oshali never imaged being without them, but nothing could stay the same.
“Are you still heading to the other realm?” Oshali asked, dropping her arms.
Silette nodded. “It’s the only clue I have about where my family might be from.”
Silette had been lucky; the guardians had given her information that suggested where she’d come from. With the ongoing war that waged across the entire realm, which left children orphaned or separated from their families, most of the children raised in the Mheyu sanctum had no such information. Still, Silette’s self-imposed task to find her family wasn’t an easy one, but at least she had Joren with her. The Twin Realms was comprised of two enormous continents that were difficult to navigate between, since they rarely communicated or traded.
“We will miss you, Oshali,” Joren said. “Nothing will ever change that we are childhood friends, even if we might not see each other again. You know we will always deeply love you.”
Oshali blinked rapidly as tears filled her eyes, but a surge of annoyance charged around her chest. Yes, the Twin Realms were huge, but they could still have seen each other if they wanted to. They’d all completed the basic training of the Mheyu; they knew how to locate places that would give them the best chances of surviving the war, how to live from the land, and how to use potions to protect themselves. “You are the ones making that decision,” she said to them, quietly and carefully. The last time they’d discussed this, it had turned into a heated argument, but this was her last chance to say what she needed to say. “You know I would be happy to be wherever you both are. You are the ones choosing to break us up.”
Silette’s face dropped, and she squeezed Oshali’s hand. “Please forgive us, Oshali.” She glanced at Joren, who looked equally remorseful. “We can’t bare to be apart and we can’t wait. I know you don’t think you will be staying here, but you are deep in the middle of your training.”
“So?” Oshali barked. “I told you before, I’m not going to stay.”
Joren shook his head. “You say that, but nothing you’ve done proves that, Oshali.” He rested a hand on her arm. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, we’re so proud of everything you’ve achieved here, truly. But we can’t wait. It’s too dangerous.”
Oshali’s mouth tightened as she forced herself not to start an argument. No one was more eager to leave the sanctum than she was, they knew that. It didn’t matter what training she did or what responsibilities she had in the sanctum. Her twenty-fifth was only in a week’s time. Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t belong here,” she whispered.
But she was smart enough to understand what their decision was really saying; she didn’t belong with them either. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, maybe it was true.
Much of the last few years, maybe even before that, Oshali felt like the odd one out, an intruder in a relationship that should have been just the two of them. She didn’t realize it for a long time—none of them seemed to. But even when she became aware of it, she couldn’t identify it. Of course, she’d read about, even studied, attraction, lust, and love. They were experiences she looked forward to, even yearned for, but she’d never expected them to separate her from her two closest friends.
“Please, forgive us.” Silette’s voice was hoarse as she glanced again at Joren. “We love you, and you’ll always be our family.” Tears trickled from her eyes. “Nothing will ever change that.” Both of them pulled her forward into a hug, crushing her between them as the midday bell chimed, echoing throughout the sanctum.
As they pulled away, Oshali stepped back, wiping her tears. They watched her as if trying to sear her face into their memories, and then turned and walked to the large archway that served as the exit for those leaving the Mheyu for good. The guardian standing next to it muttered a chant as they approached, releasing the protective magical barrier, and then nodded at them.
When they reached the archway, Silette and Joren turned back one last time, holding each other’s hands as they smiled at her—Silette’s emerald eyes streaming tears, her lips trembling, while Joren’s kind blue eyes were glassy. They looked perfect together, and there was no doubt within Oshali that they belonged together. Turning back to the opening, Joren put his arm around Silette, drawing her close, and in one swift movement, they jumped.
Oshali’s breath left her, shock prickling through her body. They’d done it. They had really left.
She stared at the archway, frozen. Part of her had never believed it would really happen. But they had abandoned her.
Oshali stood transfixed on the archway, a heavy gloom circling her. She turned and headed back the way she came, holding the feeling at bay the best she could as she navigated through the series of corridors, heading back to her room.
The sanctum was busy at this time of day, with people traveling to and from the dining hall, but typically remained relatively quiet. Some of her fellow fosters inclined their heads at her as she passed, a sign of sympathy and recognition that this was a difficult day, and she smiled back, thankful they understood. It wasn’t as though her friends were the first raised by the Mheyu to ever leave or Oshali the only one to lose childhood friends. The fosters left the sanctum all the time, seeking a life beyond the Mheyu’s strict traditions and culture. They were required to decide by their twenty-fifth; either commit to a life within the sanctum, abiding the Mheyu lifestyle and aiding their cause, or seek their future out in the Twin Realms with only the support of the knowledge they’d learned through their studies at the sanctum.
Many chose to leave, promising they would wait for each other beyond the sanctum walls to continue their friendships, but Silette had been adamant that she wanted to move on and find her place in the realm. Oshali wanted that too… she just thought they’d all be finding it together. Not that they would go and do that without her.
When she finally got to her room, she leaned against the closed door and let herself feel it; the bitter loss tinged with anger and dejection. It overwhelmed her, darkening her mood and raking old fears to the surface. Her hands shook, and she climbed into her bed and curled into a tight ball as the feeling settled in her stomach. It was a long time since she’d felt like this. Throughout her teenage years, she’d battled with overwhelming fear and loss once she realized she had no parents and no family, and had most likely been abandoned. Silette and Joren had become her family but now they were abandoning her too, and the sharp pain edged its way back to her.
Deep sobs rocked her as she fought against the feeling, trying to cling to logical reasons why it wasn’t anyone’s fault, why it had to happen this way. But in truth, she did blame them. They were thinking of themselves, of a life without her, and that betrayal burned so deeply, she wasn’t sure she could cope with it.
A knock fell on the door. “Oshali.”
Oshali stilled and held her breath. It was one of the aides.
“Oshali? The dragorai is here to see you.”
Oshali grimaced. “Tell him to come back another day,” she called, her voice thick. She couldn’t deal with the dragorai right now, not today. She’d need all her wits about her.
The aide hesitated. “I can, but you have refused to see him for nearly a month now. This will not please Guardian Persilda.”
Oshali turned her head toward the door, groaning inwardly. It was true; she had been avoiding the dragorai.
Known as the most powerful and long-lasting race in the Twin Realms, the dragorai were alphas who each had an innate bond with their own dragon from birth. That bond made both the alpha and the dragon stronger than their non-bonded counterparts. They were bigger, wilder, and had a connection to magic unlike any other. The Seven Goddesses created the dragorai; however, the only one clan remained after the war against their race—the Vattoros. The most vicious of them all. Every so often one of them visited the Mheyu for information, and the Mheyu guardians accommodated, but meeting him was Oshali’s responsibility. It had been since she was eighteen.
She’d been so busy with her training and with Silette and Joren leaving that she didn’t have the strength for another verbal spar with him, but as much as the Mheyu did not answer to the dragorai, they were still required to host audiences with them. Honor, respect, and worship dictated their agreement. Delaying an audience with him for over a month would certainly trigger the guardians’ disapproval.
Swiping away her tears, she opened the door. “I will see him now,” she said to the aide, who inclined her head before walking away. “But I will make it quick,” she muttered under her breath as she patted her eyes dry.
Leaving her room, she headed through the corridors toward the stairs that would take her to the old section of the sanctum. It had been built directly into the mountain, like all the dragorai lairs, with winding corridors and large cavernous rooms. As time wore on, and the Mheyu had needed more space to store and organize their artifacts and records, and as more children arrived, a new, larger building had been constructed down the side of the mountain and into the valley below. Oshali wound through the corridors until the smooth, ecru walls became dark grey rock, and flickering lamps lit her way as the corridors led deeper into the mountain.
Turning into another upward sloping corridor toward the meeting ledge, she pulled a thin silk wrap from her inner robe and affixed it over the lower half of her face, securing the ties around her head and ensuring it was in place over the bridge of her nose.
She was not permitted to speak to the dragorai without it—in fact, none of the fosters were advised to reveal their faces to an outsider of the sanctum— but it wasn’t as though they frequently had the opportunity to. Mheyu sanctums existed all over the Twin Realms, but this particular one was situated on the mountain range of the dragorai she was about to meet, and the dragorai did not tolerate strangers roaming their territory. No one other than the dragorai would see her face anyway, still, the guardians insisted on her wearing it.
She stopped at the exit that would take her out onto the ledge and fixed the hood of her robes over her head, tucking her hair behind her ears to keep it out of the way. The Mheyu had been extremely strict about her responsibilities, attire, and behavior when it came to meeting with the dragorai. They’d trained her from the age of thirteen in preparation. Five years of studying them and learning how to interact with them. Of course, nothing prepared her for the real thing.
Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to calm, focusing her mind and encouraging her heartbeat to slow. She was taught to be calm and measured in front of the dragorai, although that had hardly happened in the last few years. He always seemed to push her boundaries, challenge her, rouse her out of the calm, level-headed behavior she had been trained to present.
Clasping her hands in front of her, she stepped onto the ledge, which was a wide, flat area near the top of the mountain, big enough to maintain a distance of ten feet between Oshali and the dragorai-alpha. The Mheyu had been specific about maintaining a proper distance. If the dragorai stepped forward, she was required to retreat into the sanctum. The dragorai knew he was not permitted to come any closer to her, and in the seven years she had been his contact, he’d never moved from his allocated spot by the edge.
He was already standing waiting for her and she kept her eyes down, drawing in a deep, quiet breath to prepare herself as she took her usual position. A nervous jitter quivered in her stomach, as it always did when she was in front of him. She wasn’t sure if it was his gaze or his voice, or the fact that he was such a powerful and dangerous being. He was also the man who had bought her to the sanctum, after finding her as a baby, abandoned in the realm.
Once in position, she calmly lifted her eyes to meet his.
Tyomar.
Dark, almost black eyes glared back at her, and Oshali forced her jittery nerves into submission so she wouldn’t turn and run back inside like a child.
Tyomar had all the known features of dragorai-alphas. Huge and muscular, he was taller and wider than most alphas. His deep voice, rich and textured, boomed even when he spoke normally, and an animalistic energy permeated every part of him, making him look like he was about to strike, even when he seemed relaxed.
But those weren’t the only things that made him so interesting. In all her studies of the dragorai, she had not realized that they could be so… stunningly handsome. She had always thought of them as ferocious alphas—as beastly and monstrous as their dragons. And somehow, she thought that would mean a grotesque and frightful appearance. She was incredibly wrong.
Tyomar wasn’t just good-looking—he had been crafted from the same exquisiteness reserved for the Goddesses. Every inch of his face was angled to perfection, and although he naturally had a dark, thoughtful expression, smiles and laughter transcended his looks. His slightly large nose was saved by the sharp boldness of his defined jaw and close-shaved head, and the shape of his pillowy lips had drawn her attention more than she’d ever admit. His beautiful, golden-sepia skin indicated he was originally from one of the Acuazian peoples, who had once lived along the border between the North and South dominions. From her studies, she’d learned that dragorai clans were formed through the bloodlines of their dragons and not the alphas, so the alphas who bonded to dragon brothers could come from any family in the Twin Realms. Oshali found it fascinating that alphas born of different mothers and fathers could have such kinship and similarities between them solely based upon their intrinsic connection to their dragons. She often wondered if Tyomar’s brothers were as handsome as he—it seemed impossible. But that was the power of the Seven Goddesses; they could make whatever they wanted become a reality.
“Why have you not agreed to an audience with me in the last month?” Tyomar demanded as soon as her eyes met his.
Oshali tightened her fingers together, her nervousness expanding. It was madness that she’d spent seven years feeling this way around him, but no matter what she tried, her jitters hadn’t waned. The only time they flourished into something pleasurable was when he smiled, so she hoped for a smile each time they met. But it was unlikely he would smile today. In fact, he looked annoyed. She wasn’t surprised—he didn’t like when she refused to see him. The Mheyu guardians were not bound to servitude with the dragorai, but he and his clan acted as though they were.
Oshali held his gaze for a moment, then spoke calmly. “By the grace of the sacred Seven, we welcome you, Anointed One. We are eternally thankful for your presence and ask that you accept our humble gratitude and respect as we seek to preserve and honor the existence of our historic and distinguished culture bestowed by the Seven. Our discussions may later be documented for this purpose, but you are free to ask of us what you wish.”
Tyomar’s jaw flexed as she recited the welcome prayer. He rarely minded that she had to say it, but it seemed like he was going to be difficult today.
“Why have you not agreed to an audience with me in the last month,” he repeated as soon as she’d finished, his voice hard.
“Last time we met,” Oshali began, “I explained I would be in training for much of the last week of the new moon. That expectation did not change.”
His expression hardened. “And what if there was an emergency? What if I needed an audience with you as a matter of urgency?”
Oshali resisted from making a face, but cocked her head and spoke firmly. “I cannot see what emergency there could be that would involve the Mheyu. We do not offer information as a way of problem-solving. As you know, our purpose is to observe and record. We do not interfere in the affairs of your clan or—”
“Something has happened that is important for you to know,” he interrupted stiffly, crossing his arms, which caused his biceps to bulge even larger. Oshali resisted from dropping her eyes to his arms. “I consider it highly urgent.”
Irritation fluttered in Oshali’s chest. “What is it?”
“My brother has mated.”
All annoyance dropped away as surprise hit her. “Mated?” She stared at him “How? There are no more dragorai females.”
“I know that,” the dragorai said. “And yet he has been able to mate with a female omega.”
“A normal mortal?”
“It is unclear exactly what she is. No dragon has claimed her.”
Well, of course not. Female dragons died out centuries ago—that was what the war between the dragorai and the lesser-mortals had been about. Oshali’s gaze drifted out over the view of the range behind him as she gathered her thoughts, thinking back to all her studies about the dragorai, their history, their mating rituals—everything. Nothing suggested that a suitable mate for a dragorai-alpha could be anything but a dragorai female—an omega, who was bonded to her own dragon. How could this be possible?
“There is something else,” Tyomar said after a long moment passed.
Her eyes flicked back up to him.
“She is with child.”
Oshali’s eyes widen, excitement sparking throughout her body. This was incredible! The omega had to be a dragorai female. No other female could conceive with a dragorai male. And yet, that surfaced even more questions.
With the Vattoro clan of five brothers being the last of their kind, and no more female dragorai, they were on the verge of extinction. So how had this female suddenly appeared? Did she have dormant dragorai blood that reacted to them? Had the Goddesses, who had long stopped appearing to their people, intervened somehow? So many questions shot through her mind, accompanied by an intense curiosity. “How did you discover her?” she asked.
After Tyomar explained what had happened, Oshali asked him very pointed questions that she knew the guardians would want to know. She tried to stick to what was relevant, but when the opportunity arose, her curiosity got the better of her. “What is she like?” she asked. “The omega?”
The dragorai cocked head, his eyes narrowing a little. “She is like… a female.”
Oshali almost rolled her eyes. “Is she friendly? Is she quiet? Does she have a big personality? Where is she from?” She shot him a pointed look, unsure how to be any clearer. “What is she like?”
The dragorai’s expression didn’t change, though an amused look softened his gaze. “She is like a female, little cloak. There is no further distinction I’m willing to make.” He uncrossed his thick arms, as though that was the end of the discussion. “She is my brother’s mate,” he added, as though that explained everything.
Oshali exhaled a harsh breath. Sometimes she was sure he avoided answering her questions on purpose, and she absolutely hated when he called her “little cloak,” as though she were a child playing at being a Mheyu. Just because she was the youngest to hold this position didn’t mean she took it any less seriously than the other Mheyu.
When she was introduced to him at the age of thirteen, the guardians had explained extensively to him why she was the one selected to start training at that age, and even though they listed all her accomplishments, his sole comment had been about her small cloak. It was as though he kept mentioning it now to remind her that she was a child. But she wasn’t. “I am pleased you have come to us with this information,” she said, returning to formalities. “Is there anything further I can assist you with?”
“Yes,” the dragorai growled. “I want to know all the details about how someone like this female could come to be and who would know about it.”
Oshali shook her head. “There are no texts that explain this.”
“Someone has to know.”
“I’ve studied everything there is to know about your kind,” Oshali said. “I frequently reread the texts. Nothing even suggests this in any of them.”
“She had been told information about us. Someone has to know.,” he insisted.
Oshali frowned. That was certainly strange. Who could know more than the Mheyu? “I will discuss with the guardians,” she assured him. “They may want to investigate further.” She paused for a moment. “Do you think there are more females out there who your brothers can mate with?”
“I don’t know,” he said, thoughtfully. “It must be possible, but I don’t know how we can find them or if there will be enough for all of us. The discovery of this female was completely random.”
As he spoke, the realization of what she’d asked him ebbed over Oshali until it crashed into her awareness. More females who could mate with them meant he could be mated too. No. A hot, unpleasant prickle surged in her chest. She desperately did not want that.
Oshali froze for a moment, trying to identify the sensation she was feeling. Why wouldn’t she want the dragorai to find their mates? It would be exciting for the Mheyu and good for the Thrakond culture if the dragorai could breed again. It would certainly change the nature of the ongoing war between the North and South if the dragorai were more plentiful. Why wouldn’t she want that? Her eyes flicked back up to Tyomar. Because some other woman would have him. He would claim his mate and be devoted to her, and have young with her, and… A furious rush of sourness descended on her, roiling in her stomach. Oshali forced the feelings and thoughts aside, shocked with herself.
“I assume this will a priority for the Mheyu,” Tyomar was saying. “This is recent information that has to be incorporated into your records, yes?”
Oshali nodded. “Are your brothers and the omega willing to be interviewed?”
He thought for a moment. “Is that the only way?”
“Yes, unless you have any documentation we can file?” she said pointedly. “We will need to record your own words down into history.”
The dragorai was silent for a long moment and then dipped his head in a sharp nod. “It would be worth it.”
Oshali almost grinned at his expression. Tyomar knew well that his brothers would be difficult about being interviewed. The Mheyu were so precise, controlled, and specific about collecting the information they wanted, and the dragorai were notorious for doing what they wanted and when they wanted. It would certainly be a tussle of wills.
She straightened. “By the grace of the sacred Seven, we thank you for your presence at our sanctum, and are grateful for your understanding of our favor of the Seven. We welcome you back here whenever you—”
“Is that it?” Tyomar interrupted, frowning at her.
Oshali paused. “What do you mean?”
The dragorai peered at her for a moment. “Last time we spoke you told me you were not sleeping.”
Oshali pressed her lips together to stop herself from snarling, but couldn’t help glaring at him. “I didn’t. If you recall, you… commented on my appearance.” It had been the first time he’d mentioned her looks at all, and he’d chosen to insult her by saying her eyes looked tired. She had tried not to react, as per her training, but she couldn’t help but snap at him. Her eyes were the only part of her he’d ever seen. It made sense he would notice if something was different in them, and yet, she hated that he’d criticized her looks.
Unfortunately, his eyes were roaming over her again. “It looks like you have been getting enough sleep this time,” he murmured. “But something is still wrong.”
Oshali blinked in surprise and then averted her eyes. She hoped he couldn’t tell she’d been crying. Deep down, she was pleased he was observant, but she refused to get distracted by talking about her personal opinions or problems today. He wouldn’t understand and she wasn’t even supposed to. “There has been a lot happening recently, that’s all.”
Tyomar stood watching her for a long moment, with an expression she couldn’t place. “You do not have to become a Mheyu Guardian if it is too much for you right now,” he said finally. “You are very young.”
Annoyance surged in her with his reference to her age once again, but she forced herself to brush it aside. “It’s too late,” she said. “I’ve already completed most of the training.”
Tyomar dipped his head. “Then I wish you well.” He hesitated, his voice deepening and burrowing straight into her trembly insides. “But I will not tolerate you refusing my requests again, little cloak. If I arrive and request an audience, I will not be denied. Is that understood?”
When she nodded, she finally got what she always hoped for in every meeting. His smile.
His mouth was a fascination for her, but when he smiled, the cutest dimple appeared on the right corner of his mouth. It was breathtaking. The jittery feeling she constantly battled with finally calmed, swooping through her and settling into a pleasant hum.
“I shall let my brothers know the interviews are not optional,” Tyomar said, glancing up to look for his dragon. It was always nearby, soaring behind him in the sky or screeching overhead as it waited to be called upon—flight was the only way to reach the ledge they stood on.
Oshali exhaled a breath. “I’m sure the guardians will want to send you notification of when they will take place. It would be helpful if you could convince your clan to abide by their schedule.”
Tyomar’s gaze returned to her. “Will you be interviewing?”
“I doubt it,” Oshali said. “This will be too important for a novice to do. I suspect the guardians will conduct the interviews themselves.”
Tyomar nodded. “Farewell, little cloak.”
Oshali inclined her head and recited the farewell prayer. As he began casting incantations, magic gathered, surrounding him and lifting him into the air. The way magic responded to him was always fascinating and Oshali watched him turn and soar out over the range toward the gigantic beast of a dragon coming toward them.
“Farewell, Tyomar,” Oshali muttered as she watched him.
* * *
“And this is everything he told you?”
Oshali nodded. “Those are the exact words he said, Guardian.”
Guardian Vy carefully poured boiling water into her teacup and placed a bright blue inkledew flower on top. They both watched as the color from the flower bled into the water and causing it to churn and bubble until it deepened to dark purple and sent a fragrant aroma around the room.
“Why did you refuse to meet the dragorai for nearly a month, Oshali?” Guardian Vy asked, her tone quiet and measured.
Oshali stiffened. Vy sounded disappointed. “I was focusing on my studies,” she replied carefully. “I warned him I may be unavailable for a few weeks so he would be aware. Obviously, I didn’t know that something like this was going to happen.”
Guardian Vy lifted her teacup and took a sip before placing it down carefully. She lifted the drooping flower from the cup, dropped it into her mouth, and chewed slowly. “How many times did he request to see you?”
“Eight,” Oshali said, her stomach sinking.
Guardian Vy pursed her crinkled lips. “That did not strike you as odd?”
Oshali inhaled. “Upon reflection, yes it does. At the time I was distracted.”
“Earning your Gowns should not be something that takes you further away from your duties, Oshali,” Vy said solemnly. “You have been told that it is an addition to your existing responsibilities. You cannot expect to pull back from your responsibilities and still achieve your Gowns. It suggests you’re not ready for them.”
Oshali breathed shallowly, wondering if they were going to stop her from continuing the training. In truth, she didn’t need to earn the Mheyu Gowns, but when Guardian Persilda had suggested it, it had been such an honor. As much as she wanted to experience the world beyond the sanctum, it didn’t mean that she didn’t also love everything the guardians stood for. She highly respected the work the Mheyu did, and loved delving into the records and getting lost in the history and culture and traditions of the ancient Thrakonds—it was the whole reason why she wanted to go out into the realms and experience it for herself. It would be an honor to earn her Gowns, even if she didn’t stay and become a guardian.
She straightened. “I didn’t intend to give that impression, Guardian,” she breathed. “I’m still getting used to… meeting with the dragorai and—”
Guardian Vy raised a brow. “After seven years?”
Oshali nodded. “I am still trying to determine the best way to interact with him. He doesn’t always comply with the guidelines set out in my training.”
The guardian chuckled. “Many things rarely do.”
“I just thought that there’d be no harm if I delayed talking to him for two weeks. And then that turned into four…”
Guardian Vy raised her cup and took a long sip. “The most interesting and unbelievable events are rarely forewarned or planned,” she said after savoring the tea for a long moment. “That is how history is made. And we must always be ready for it. We cannot reschedule our responsibilities, especially when it involves alphas as legendary, rare, and powerful as the dragorai. He is not simply the alpha who allows us to live on part of his range. His is a respected, ancient being.”
“I know,” Oshali said, irritation rising. She had been told all her life how special the dragorai were—and after studying them and meeting Tyomar, she already knew.
“Do you?” Guardian Vy looked at her for the first time, and Oshali tempered down her annoyance. She had to take responsibility for refusing to offer him an audience for nearly a month.
“I have never evaded my responsibilities before, Vy,” she said quietly. “This was a rare occurrence and it will not happen again.”
Guardian Vy held her gaze, a long silence stretching between them as they observed each other.
Vy was the first adult Oshali remembered meeting as a child. She was an elder with a stern demeanor but had kind eyes. Oshali had been unable to say her full name; Viyanettra. So the Guardian had shortened it to Vy, and it ended up sticking.
“Silette and Joren left today, didn’t they?” Vy asked.
At the sound of their names, the raw sorrow surged, and Oshali could only nod as she tried to compose herself.
Vy sighed and remained quiet for a long time. “We will continue our discussion after we record the latest events with the Seven’s most favored creation.”
“I won’t be allowed to record their testimonies, will I?” Oshali asked tentatively.
“I think it would benefit you to see the process, particularly as there are limited new opportunities for you to do so,” the guardian said thoughtfully. “Choose two interviews to attend. But you will not speak in any of them,” she warned. Vy put down her empty cup. “You decide which interviews you want to attend and ensure you speak to Guardian Persilda about recording protocols. I know you’ve had some training already, but it needs to be fresh in your mind now that we are actually doing some.” She levied a serious stare at Oshali. “I’m sure there is no need to reiterate to you that this is an extremely important historical event.”
Oshali nodded. “I am aware.” Either way, it was a monumental moment in the history of the realms. If the dragorai managed to replenish their numbers, it would completely change the Twin Realms. The ongoing war between the North and South could not continue if there were a flood of dragons and their riders, as well as their mates all over the realms. What would the warring North and South Dominions do? It was a fascinating idea.
“Good,” the guardian stated. “This must be treated seriously and with all the care and attention that it deserves. The dragorai are difficult in the best of times, but they will have to do abide our instruction this time.”
“Will they?” Oshali was dubious.
“Yes,” the Guardian said firmly. “They may be the Goddesses’ favorite creations, but we are empowered by the Goddesses. The clan must allow us to do our duty, and they know that. They will not make it easy, mind you,” she said with a sigh, “but they know we must be allowed to collect data.”
“And all of the brothers will be interviewed?”
“The brothers and the mated omega, at least,” the guardian said. “We may also need to interview some members of their lairs to get contrasting observations.”
“You think they might lie?” Oshali asked, puzzled. “Why would they do that?”
“Memory can be a tricky thing,” the Guardian said. “I doubt they would intentionally lie, but the annoyance in having to sit down and explain things to us may lead them to overlook memories, or they could forget some of the details, considering it’s been weeks since all of this happened.”
Oshali averted her eyes, aware of what she was implying. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“If an account of an event is going to be taken,” the guardian continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “we always try to get at least two different viewpoints. That way, the account or the event can be more accurately recorded based on those testimonies. Different people remember different things, or have different viewpoints and vantage points about what happened. It is sometimes amazing how varied the accounts can be.”
Oshali thought for a long moment. “But some of the accounts state information as fact in the existing records,” she said frowning. “Especially from the time when the Thrakonds ruled the land.”
Guardian Vy nodded. “No guardian has ever found discrepancies with a Goddess’ word. A few of the very early guardians were lucky enough to interview some of the Goddesses themselves. With those accounts it was determined that they had no reason to lie, so they are treated as fact.” She shifted in her seat. “In any case, the dragorai have no reason to lie either, from what I am aware. So this will be about managing their expectations and behavior.”
Oshali snorted. “Managing the behavior of a dragorai?”
A smile crept onto the guardian’s face. “Yes, I suppose that is impossible. Are you ready for it?”
Oshali straightened her shoulders. “Always.”