Emilia woke to a bad headache, new clothes at the foot of her bed, and a dragon’s snout poking through one of the curtained walls.
“Chara!” She thrust the blankets aside and went to her dragon, even as pain gnawed at the base of her skull. She placed a palm on Chara’s nose and felt a gust of hot breath. The dragon had short, ticklish hairs at the top of her upper lip. Chara huffed in contentment, dipping her head so Emilia could stroke the long bridge of her snout. The tang of salt clung to her; she must have gone for a morning swim. Her pearly scales were soft. “Someone brushed you.” Emilia smiled.
They’re treating you well before they Cut you.
The dragon rumbled low in her long throat and pressed the side of her head against Emilia’s leg. The warm, fizzing sensation of connection coursed through her…and she thought about never having that again. Dying, and her soul murdered as well. Drifting into oblivion.
Emilia looked away to gather her thoughts. Today the Trial would begin in earnest, and she had to be at her best. That stupid accident with Lucian last night could not be allowed to happen again. Thank the blue above it’d been dark, and the explosion minor. Just a couple of rocks. She had not expected him to sound so concerned. She had not anticipated that the way he spoke would ease a pressure that had long solidified in her sternum. But none of that mattered. She’d be stretched out on a table with nails pounded into her flesh if she did not learn to dominate this chaos in her soul.
The headache tightened as she studied the clothes on her bed: a plum-colored shirt, a jacket of sturdy fabric in the same color, and loose, tan trousers.
Beside the bed, someone had set a golden shield so polished that her reflection glared back at her. Emilia winced. She couldn’t blame Lucian for his reaction yesterday. She looked hollowed out by a long, slow illness. With a sigh, she picked up the shield, and something behind it clattered to the floor. It was golden as well, a narrow tube about as long as her arm.
Emilia picked it up and flicked her wrist. Sharp protrusions shot out of the tube on either end. She studied the thing—the spear.
A spear and a shield for the Hunt.
The first challenge had begun.
“Nice to see you all properly dressed.” Camilla regarded them coolly as she poured a cup of coffee from a gleaming copper pot. Emilia wondered how the clothes had been tailored so well for all of them. Probably the acolytes had worked their magic well into the night.
The competitors all sat awkwardly around the banquet table, mumbling thanks and eating. Emilia poured a cup of hot, syrupy coffee, her throbbing head practically shouting its gratitude. She took a sip and found it was sweetened with cardamom and cream. Her entire body softened with a shiver.
There were round loaves of freshly baked bread accompanied by oil and olive paste, sweet rolls dusted with cinnamon, fruit, and rice porridge stewed with raisins and dates. Emilia nursed her coffee. Ajax ate so quickly she wondered how he left room to breathe. Vespir sat cross-legged on the sofa, listlessly shoveling porridge into her mouth. Lucian, meanwhile, picked up his plate and sat down next to Emilia.
“How’d you sleep?” He offered her a cinnamon roll; he’d remembered they were her favorite. Emilia felt heat creep up the back of her neck.
“Uh. Well,” she mumbled. Sitting next to him again relaxed her, let her mind wander…She could picture every capillary in his face bursting in one swell of crimson and his entire head exploding and bits of brain matter scattering over the cushions—
She stood at once and marched her coffee over to sit next to Ajax, who waggled his eyebrows. Sighing, Emilia stared into her cup. Lucian didn’t try to sit next to her again.
Better he stay away.
At least her chaos had waned. Sleep and food did wonders for that.
Everyone took notice as Hyperia swept into the room, pouring herself coffee and taking a bowl of rice porridge. “The island’s perimeter makes for a good morning run,” she said conversationally, sitting apart from everyone else. No one said anything in reply.
“So. Can we get started?” Ajax asked.
“Your dragons are waiting.” Petros snapped his fingers, and brown-robed acolytes entered to set leather satchels beside each of the competitors. “The coordinates are in here. Once you arrive at the island, the Hunt begins.”
“What are we hunting?” Hyperia sounded pleased. Killing things had probably been a daily habit since she’d played dolls in the nursery.
“The island’s residents have been under siege for some time.”
“We’re hunting the island’s residents?” Ajax screwed up his face. “That’s sad.”
Petros’s eyes fluttered shut. “No. A basilisk has been terrorizing them. You’re hunting that. Whoever hunts it down, kills it, and brings back its head is the winner.”
Emilia felt the coffee in her stomach sour. She’d studied every predator in the Crotian region and had consulted her notes as soon as she found the spear. They wouldn’t be hunting a centaur—for that you need a bow and arrow—and no one would think to go after a siren without trawling hooks and nets, so that was out. Privately, she’d hoped for a giant boar or a lion, but no. A basilisk. She had to face a basilisk.
“Wow,” Ajax breathed. Then, “What’s a basilisk?”
“Didn’t you read Pliny’s Natural History?” Hyperia sneered at him.
“I can’t read,” Vespir muttered, so low only Emilia could hear. Then, even lower, “Forty percent chance.”
Sensing Ajax was about to say something irritating, Emilia jumped in. “A basilisk is a land-based dragon.” An abomination. A wingless dragon could never be a true one. “It walks on two legs and has a serpent’s body with the head of a cockerel.”
“A chicken dragon? Sounds fun.” The idiot boy grinned.
Emilia’s temper snapped. “If having acid for blood, sharp teeth, and a glance that can poison you to death is amusing, I really hope you enjoy yourself.” She snatched a piece of bread from the table and forced herself to take a bite. Ajax stopped smiling. At last.
Lucian dusted his hands, swallowed the dregs of his coffee, and picked up the leather satchel at his feet. Emilia noticed that he had brought the shield, but not the spear.
“Let’s go,” he said as the other competitors grabbed their weapons and headed for the front of the temple. Emilia hung behind with Vespir as Ajax and Hyperia jogged to be first on dragonback. The Tiber boy had to run to keep pace.
“Emilia.” Lucian came up beside her. “Stay with me once we reach the island.”
Thankfully, he didn’t wait on a response. Lucian hurried ahead. She doubted he was trying to hurt her…but she could hurt him.
“Are you all right?” she asked Vespir as they walked side by side. The servant was making a little eye contact now. Progress.
“Sure. Basilisks are fun,” Vespir replied, her voice distant as she checked the satchel’s binding. It slipped open, revealing two extra loaves of bread and figs. Emilia frowned. The priests had already given them food for lunch; there was no need for more. Vespir noticed her notice. “It’ll be a long day,” she said. “I, er, get hungry.”
“Of course.” Emilia didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t her business.
Moments later she was seated in Chara’s saddle, stealing a quick glance at the directions. She was ready. With a snort, the dragon flapped and soared upward. Emilia didn’t look back at the others. She focused on the blue horizon, where the sea merged with the sky. She bladed a hand over her eyes and squinted into the bright day. She could practically hear her pale skin sizzle.
Basilisk. King of serpents. Alchemists claimed you could combine its blood with powdered human remains, red copper, and vinegar to make gold.
There’d be no alchemy today. Emilia’s mind tarried over the facts in the files she’d brought, the books she’d slaved over. She’d no skill with a spear, and the sword at her hip would remain in its sheath if she could help it. To win this challenge, she would have to use her knowledge and her more…unique powers.
The pressure of chaos built at the base of her spine.
After twenty minutes of flight over sapphire waters, an island appeared. Emilia tugged on Chara’s reins, peeling away from the other four as they rose on the wind to fly higher. Emilia could already see their problem: there was no landing space on the island. A thick forest covered nearly every square foot, and the rocky shore was too narrow. Most dragons didn’t do well in water.
But Chara, as an Aspis, took to it naturally, and Emilia wanted to be separated from the group.
“Emilia!” The wind swallowed Lucian’s voice. She felt a small stab of guilt but forced herself onward.
Emilia guided Chara around the island’s perimeter until she noticed a tiny inlet of gentle water. She pulled back on the reins and squeezed the dragon’s sides. They dipped toward the ocean, Emilia’s hair whipping behind her. Chara huffed in delight when they splashed down in an arc of crystalline water. Emilia pulled her feet from the stirrups, trying not to get wet. While Chara dipped her snout into the sea and snorted, blowing a stream of bubbles, Emilia glanced at the shore ten feet away.
“Chara.” She scratched the top of the dragon’s head and pinched the knob of excess flesh at the base of her neck. Chara’s wings expanded automatically on either side of her, the thin membrane rippling in the wind. Holding her breath, Emilia ran along the right wing, moving quickly so as not to apply too much pressure and bruise a joint or tear the membrane. She bounced effortlessly off the wingtip, landing ankle-deep in the sea. Onshore, she let the shallow waves play at her feet. Her dragon retracted her wings and trilled happily, flashing white and pearl as she frisked through the sea. “I’ll be back. Stay here,” Emilia called. Chara waggled her ears.
Emilia headed up the thin sliver of beach, scaled the rocky slope, and walked into the tree line. The blazing sun extinguished neat as a candle. Splotches of yellow light carpeted the loamy earth wherever the sun managed to break through the branches. The ground sank beneath her boots as she hiked. Emilia sighed in relief. The viselike grip of her magic eased somewhat when she was on her own. Emilia had always preferred the privacy of her own thoughts. If she could have punctuated that quiet with occasional human contact, life would have been perfect.
And as dangerous as it was to be around the others, Emilia wished someone were with her at that moment. Every cry of a bird in the depths of the forest, every snap of a twig jolted her nearly out of her skin. Cringing, she kept her back against an old, mossy trunk.
Think.
She went over her plan. The others would undoubtedly make the mistake of trying to find the basilisk. All dragons had a tendency to protect their lairs; she doubted the beast would stray too far from home. It wouldn’t dwell close to the sea. Emilia had spotted a dense patch of overgrown forest to the island’s northwestern tip. The basilisk would likely dwell there. All she had to do was make her way around the perimeter. Then, once she’d located the lair, she would set off a small series of explosions to draw the creature to her. When it was within sight, she’d hide behind her shield so it could not poison her and use her powers to slice its head from its neck.
There were two potential drawbacks: she might simply obliterate the head, so that nothing remained to take back as a prize, and even if she could accomplish her goal, the priests might notice the head hadn’t been severed with a blade.
She would draw her sword and trim the edges if necessary. Hopefully, she could get it done without anyone else seeing.
Though the plan was sound, fear ate at her. Fear of discovery, to be sure, but also of her competitors. Her competitor, singular. Hyperia.
Hyperia was hard and cold and pure.
Purity was the central virtue of the orderly arts, and the one Emilia most resented.
Snap. A twig broke underfoot…but Emilia hadn’t moved.
Somebody was heading toward her from the center of the forest.
Damn. She didn’t think the basilisk was the type of beast to tiptoe up behind people, but she also didn’t want to take that chance. Wincing under the weight of both her satchel and the shield and spear, she trotted along a worn path and headed around the tip of the island. Sweat was already slick on her back and under her arms. Her headache’s band tightened around her temples. Biting her lip, she glanced behind to see if anyone was tracking her.
“Ow!” she cried as her shin smacked against something hard. She pitched over the object and fell onto her stomach. Gasping, she rolled over to see what had tripped her, expecting a large root. Instead, she found a crude altar fashioned from gray stone. Flies buzzed around some shriveled plums and berries, and olive branches with browning leaves. Emilia smelled rotten fruit and crawled to her feet. An offering? Of course, the islanders were trying to appease the basilisk.
Something flashed on the path in front of her. Emilia gripped her blade’s hilt on instinct. Much good it’d do; if she tried drawing, she’d likely drop it. “Who’s there?” she called stupidly. Magic licked the hollow of her throat. The altar began to quiver with the nearness of her power. If she loosed it…
Someone stepped into a patch of dappled sunlight. Her eyes widened in horror.
“Lucian?”
“I told you to stay close to me!” He approached as Emilia cursed.
“Why would I? This isn’t a team challenge.” Emilia checked the altar. Thankfully, it had stopped vibrating, but she couldn’t know when that would change. She had to get away from this fool.
“Because I want to help you.” He shouldered his satchel as he drew nearer.
“You’ll forgive me if I find the idea of one competitor helping another a little too altruistic,” she snapped. She glanced at the empty sword scabbard on his belt. “Are you planning to wrestle the basilisk?”
“No. I told you, I swore—”
“Never to harm anything again, yes.” She winced; the headache was starting to pulse behind her left eye. “I’m not sure how such a promise helps me. It seems like I’d be looking after you.”
“There’s no way I can win this challenge, but I’d rather you take it than someone like Hyperia.”
Well, she couldn’t blame him for that. If Hyperia won the Emperor’s Trial, she’d probably boil them all alive. Emilia at least would be a merciful executioner.
“I don’t think you were ever a great hunter. I can give you tips…” Lucian frowned at the altar. “What is this, exactly?”
“Hmm?” Emilia crouched to inspect the thing. In truth, she’d wanted a chance to study it, and since the basilisk wasn’t currently breathing down their necks, this would probably be her best chance. She still needed to get rid of Lucian, but that could wait a moment. “If I recall correctly, the Crotian territories have mostly been brought under the empire’s rule, but there are some islands that still retain the native culture. Look.” Excitement loosened her headache as she traced her finger along a line of carvings. “The two eggs here—do you see? The Crotian people worshipped a sea goddess who gave birth to hero twins, a boy and a girl, by hatching them from eggs. The two eggs are supposed to designate the royal bloodline…or something sacred…”
“Emilia,” Lucian whispered, but she was lost in thought. Whenever she had something new to toy with, Emilia left her body behind. It was the closest she got to freedom.
“These altars can’t be for the basilisk, then.” She frowned. “The symbol for evil in the Crotian region is the king of the sea, the goddess’s brother. If they feared the basilisk, they’d carve a three-point crown, not the eggs. It’s almost like—”
“Emilia!”
“What?”
She raised her head to find the tip of an arrow inches from her face. Emilia froze, glancing side to side. Seven or so people had crept out of the forest, wielding spears or bows. All were golden-haired and green-eyed, and none were smiling.
Lucian had his hands raised. Emilia felt chaos behind her eyes. If she loosed it now, she might get them out of here. But if Lucian saw…
She glared at him.
“I’m starting to resent your vow,” she muttered.