2

TALON

I hate city fighting. There’s even less I can control than usual: no high ground, too many people, too little maneuverability, dead ends, unbelievable amounts of flammable materials. And usually screaming. My whole life has been this House War, and there are plenty of shades to everything I hate about it, but urban battle is the worst.

I don’t hide my dismay from the captains and officials facing me over the long table. Until two days ago this building was a herd-drake stable, and it smells like sour char and musty shed scales. But even war drakes are useless in city fighting, so we commandeered the stables for temporary barracks and sent the plodding beasts to the countryside.

Governor Tillus argued to meet in his mansion, where there is plentiful wine and pasta, and half my field council agrees, but I don’t care: this is war, and I won’t let them forget that. They already like to talk around me and pretend I’m not the Dragon scion, not my brother’s War Prince, because I’m only eighteen, and compared to Caspian I’m forgettable. But I’ve been leading soldiers and killing the enemies of the High Prince Regent for years. If Tillus came face-to-face with one of these insurgents, he’d probably kneel to beg before he even thought to draw a blade. He’s just annoyed the first thing I did when I arrived yesterday was to send his shiny new prisoner away.

We shouldn’t even be here. Lastrium is a port town only because they built a decent pier, not because it’s strategically useful. Jagged cliffs hem it in, while the city of Sartoria, a day’s ride up the coast, has a river and was the old seat of the Kraken regent for centuries, before the fall of the Last Phoenix and the first House War. Sartoria is much more tactically relevant, even though we’ve had it locked down since my father rekindled the House Wars after Mother died, fourteen years ago. If the Kraken are determined to restart their guerrilla tactics here on the west coast, Lastrium is more suited to a practice run than the real thing. Not worth sending their navy. But Aunt Aurora sent a prophecy that the Kraken navy pulled up anchor and will be here, in Lastrium, in three days.

It has to be a feint. The only thing of use in Lastrium is reserves of fossilized venom we use to make dragonfire. But the Kraken have to expect if they laid any kind of siege to the city and we thought we’d lose it, we’d blow up the warehouse before allowing them to have it.

I wonder if I should just do that now and get back to the Crest. Caspian won’t expect me, and maybe I can surprise him in his tower before he forbids me to visit. I’ve been in Barghest lands leading our combined forces for the last eighteen months, and every time I suggest I come home to meet with my war council in person, I’m commanded to remain away. I have got to get to my brother soon. I’m worried about him, especially given the growing rumors of his madness.

But Aurora’s prophecies are never wrong. The Kraken are coming here. So instead of Phoenix Crest, I’m in damned Lastrium.

Captain Firesmith points to the map of the city spread on the worn wooden table. “They can’t set fire to the cliffs, so they’ll focus on the pier. We should send the remaining ships up to Sartoria.”

“All that’s left are some cutters fast enough to send messages,” one of the city officials, Mara Stormswell, reminds Firesmith.

I say nothing, tracing the defenses of the city with my gaze. They’re not good, but they’ve never had to be. This place is just cliffs, beach, residences, and a few scattered markets and warehouses. Leonetti Seabreak was here for a minute, but they can’t have known that. I grind my teeth thinking they might have known that. It doesn’t matter now he’s gone. But I don’t want their spies to be better than mine.

“—their ships can easily keep out of range,” Finn Sharpscale says, and I assume he means the limited dragonfire cannons we have. Less than an hour after Caspian appointed me commander of the Dragon’s Teeth, I passed the position to Finn instead, because I’d rather be free to fight where I’m needed, not tied down to a certain company. One of the only things I’ve learned about leadership from my wild older brother is that sometimes it helps if you surprise people with a sudden left turn. If they can’t predict you, they pay closer attention. Of course, Caspian takes that to every extreme. I need to be more reliable. Certain. Respected.

Governor Tillus snorts. “Fool Kraken. Naval warfare is useless here.” His beard twists as he either smiles or grimaces.

“They aren’t fools,” I say quietly. They think they can take something from us here, either Leonetti or some kind of retaliation for his capture.

The governor looks like he wants to call us all fools and go home to wrap up in the silks Dragons won for him, under the roof Dragons provide. His family might have sworn to the High Prince Regent, but a mere five years ago they were Kraken. They haven’t taken to heart yet what it means to be Dragon.

I stand up. I’m not tall enough to loom like Caspian, but I’m broad and have perfected the way I show my teeth when I smile. It’s just like the toothy draconic grin of my helmet when I wear full armor. I want to remind Tillus that no matter who he used to be, no matter what lands these were, it’s all a part of the High Prince Regent’s hoard now. We must defend it and die for it in a reign of fire, because that is who Dragons are. Not fools.

At my side, Finn stands, too. He is huge, with a scar on the left side of his face that hooks his lips into a permanent sneer. I didn’t make him commander of the Teeth only for his skill with an ax, or his loyalty to me.

“We have three days until their navy arrives,” I say to Governor Tillus, then skewer each other official and captain with a gaze I know is an unwavering vivid green. The color runs in the family. “I want a complete inventory of everything in the city, Tillus, no matter how small. And I want cannons set up along the cliffs to at least make the Kraken marines’ lives harder, if we can’t reach the ships. Everybody bring me an idea for additional defenses tomorrow. Be creative. Pretend this city is made of your own precious hoard. We must be ready in two days.”

With that, I turn sharply and go.

Finn will give me enough time for my exit to make its point, then follow me to the narrow hostler’s office I took for my own.

I move quickly across the cobbles of the inner courtyard from the stable’s training arena, where we’d set up the council table and cots for most of the foot soldiers. Everything in a drake stable is made of stone or plaster, because drakes of all varieties tend to have fiery accidents. We have the seven war drakes attached to the Teeth harnessed together with iron gear in the corner farthest from the gates. They’re leaning their bodies against each other, twining sinuous scaled necks. Crests of feathers shade their slit-pupiled eyes, but most are looking at me. I stare at them, catching the eye of my primary mount, to remind her who’s the boss. She stares back for a long moment, then flicks her row of long spine feathers. I smile and pause to scratch under her scaly chin. She makes a sound almost like a purr.

I glance up at the last streaks of orange sunset. The moon will rise shortly, almost full. Good visibility on the seas tonight, nothing to slow that navy down. I’ll eat a quick dinner, wait for Finn, and then go down to the pier myself. We’ll check the warehouse. Most of the Dragon’s Teeth we have with us are on night patrol, but the few off duty might let me spar with them.

Obviously they’ll do whatever I command, but it’s better when they want to include me.

Just before I push through the door into the stable building, I feel the distracting pulse at my wrist: Aurora’s summons tingling in the bracelet pressed to my skin by my leather bracer. She wants to talk five days before our scheduled meeting, which is unusual. We limit our regular communications by necessity because such distant far-seeing taxes the strength of Aurora’s attendant.

I quicken my pace past the stalls where higher-ranking soldiers have doubled up to the hostler’s office. Most of the stalls are empty at the moment, as it’s near change of watch, but two soldiers lean against their open doors and salute. I put my fist to my chest in response.

Inside the dim office are my own cot, weapons, and armor, plus a field communication kit with the necessary bowl and cleansing glass. I light the oil lamp and pull closed the shutter on the round window that overlooks the courtyard I just passed through. Firelight dances on the three chunks of dragonglass settled in the bottom of the shallow stone bowl. I take one in my hand and drag it softly clockwise in a spiral up to the edge of the bowl and balance it there. The second I drag in a counterclockwise spiral and balance it at an angle from the first. The third I use to draw a six-pointed star across the entirety of the bowl before placing it along the rim. A slight tingle tickles my spine, so I know the cleansing worked—Aunt Aurora says I only feel it because my boon is related to far sight, and if I were a true seer, there would be a thin line of power visible everywhere I’d traced the stones. I trust her word on that and go get some water from the pump just outside the office.

Then I wait.

The water shivers as it settles into the bowl. In an emergency we can connect through rippling water, but this must not be one. I fit my body into a core stance, feet apart and fists together over my stomach so my elbows and arms make a strength triangle. I focus on breathing and settling my blood as the water settles. Aurora can always tell when I’m upset, thanks to the way heat from any emotion makes pink blotches high on my cheeks, and I don’t want her to worry about taking care of me tonight. I’m an adult; I can take care of myself. I can control my feelings. Dragons don’t need to hide their emotions, she soothed me once, when I was nine and angrily stomping around wearing a too-large helmet with full faceplate. Let your fury and joy and grief show; that’s where your power is, dragonlet. Maybe that was true for a little boy, or maybe it’s true for a High Prince Regent. It can’t be true for me. I’m not powerful enough for people to respect displays of emotions. Not unless they’re calculated displays.

Besides, Caspian’s reputation is wild enough without having a scion always too near to exploding.

“Talon,” Aurora says, and I glance down at the bowl. Her face shimmers colorlessly against the water, peaceful and lovely . . . except there’s a tightness I can see at the corner of her lips. Tension that would be hidden to most, but I know to look for it.

“What did he do?” I demand.

My aunt puts her betraying lips into a thin line and says, “It’s been a very bad week.”

I clench my jaw and slowly nod. “I can leave now—”

“No, Talon, he wants you there. He said that specifically. But . . . he also said, ‘Talon must save her.’ ”

“Save who?”

Aurora’s lashes flutter, and she lowers her gaze in sorrow. “There’s only one her Caspian has ever concerned himself with since my sister died.”

The eyeless girl. His imaginary friend, or whatever she is, a figment of his madness. His muse. The only thing he cares to paint. Even Aurora, whose boon is prophecy, cannot see her. But Caspian has been obsessed with her for my entire life. Aurora believes he must have known the girl as a child; perhaps something happened as his painting boon took root. Either that, or she’s a piece of his nightmares, a Chaos-induced hallucination. There are old stories of Chaos speaking to all of us through dreams, but not since the Last Phoenix died a hundred years ago. All our boons are weaker now than they were then, if we have them at all. “What does he want me to save her from?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Aurora admits. “He was even more distressed than usual.”

“Distressed?” Anger makes my voice low. I hate being far away from them, where I can’t do anything at all to help. “That’s no excuse for treating you poorly.”

“Oh, Talon.” She sets her jaw just like I do, and in the water I can’t tell if she has tears in her eyes or not. “You need to come home when you finish there, prepared to take over.”

“Aunt,” I begin, because she’s said this before, and I can’t. I won’t unseat my own brother.

But Aurora cuts me off. “I am holding the council together, Talon, but at best they say Caspian is too distracted to rule. At worst, there are the whispers of madness, still, again. We’ve worked hard to keep his tendencies private, but he doesn’t care if people notice he vanishes for days and days, he rarely comes to meetings anymore, and when he shows himself at court, it’s impossible to predict if he’ll be lucid or wild. The Gryphon physician you arranged for does little to—”

A knock on my office door grabs my attention. I hold up my hand so Aurora stops talking, and I call, “Finn?”

“Scion,” he responds through the thin door. “Hungry?”

“Hold a moment.” I turn back to Aurora. She’s watching calmly, not a hair out of place, elegant and pristine as a portrait—though not like the art of our mad High Prince Regent. I’m told she looks like our mother, but I don’t remember. They were both of House Cockatrice, beauties traded by their father to mine in an attempt to allay the spite of House Dragon garnered nearly forty years ago during the previous House Wars. I doubt the bad cross of madness and artistry born in my brother had been the intended outcome of the alliance. “Aunt,” I say, “you know my answer. But I will come home after this battle, strong in glory and heart. We will help him, somehow, not take his throne. I have to be able to do that. I’m his brother.”

For a moment, Aurora’s expression stills as if she means to argue, but then she lowers her gaze in acknowledgement. “As you say, scion. But please, be careful. We need you.”

“If it were my day to die, you would know it through your own boon, Aurora,” I answer warmly, and touch the water to disrupt her seeing. I miss her, but I can’t let myself succumb to homesickness.

“Finn,” I call, and just as he turns the handle, the nape of my neck tingles. I can’t react at all before I hear a massive boom.

Finn throws the door open, ax in hand, but I push past him out into the stable. I run, because I know that sound: an explosion.

Behind me Finn yells orders for everyone to arms. I skid to a stop and look up. The night sky blazes with stars, and the moon is too low—there in the southwest is a ferocious orange glow. Fire.

I run toward the inn across the way from the drake stable. It’s four stories, the tallest nearby building. I barge in, ignoring cries of alarm and people pushing to get out. They’ll see nothing useful on the street. I need to get high.

Up and up the stairs I run, Finn’s bootsteps echoing at my heels, until I reach the top floor and blow through into a private room, to the south window. I shove open the shutters and lean out.

From my dragon’s-eye view I can see exactly how far it is to the flicker of red-hot flames. The billowing smoke, spreading lazily across the sky, blots out stars. Half a mile, toward the sea, but still south. I know what that is.

The fossilized-venom stores. Somebody blew up the warehouse.

I stare for a long moment, mind racing. There must be Kraken insurgents already in the city, a forward brigade of their own, before the navy. Barbs. That’s what they call their spies and sneaks. They must be preparing for the navy to arrive somehow, but why warn us? Why not wait until the navy is right here instead of setting the city on fire?

Below me the streets are filling with people. Chaos. Disorder. It will be harder to get my soldiers anywhere now. That’s plenty good reason to blow the warehouse—when the navy arrives. Not now.

I pull myself back inside and tell Finn, “They blew the venom stores. That fire won’t go out for hours, even if we can get people with fire and water boons set up to contain it. I’ll send Captains Firesmith and Peak to the warehouses for crowd assistance and to catch any of the insurgents, while Wingry and Fallfar go to the cliffs and pier. Get the Teeth seer looking for anything, but keep your people with me.”

We start back to the barracks. Finn says, “What are we going to do?”

“Get our weapons. There’s only one good reason for them to do this now, days before their navy is here.” I spare a reluctant thought for better spies.

“Distraction,” he says, baring his teeth eagerly. With his scar, he looks truly gleeful. “They think Leonetti is still here.”

I nod and pause at the front of the stable courtyard, snagging one of the toothlings assigned to me. I send the young girl to relay my orders to the various captains. She’s shaking with a heady combination of fear and excitement to see action, bouncing on her toes and fingering the hilt of her smallsword as she repeats my orders before dashing off.

Finn claps his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go drown some squids, Talon.”