CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ELARA

COMMANDER WARWICK HAD ARRIVED AT HEARTHSTONE, AND Elara, Signey, and Zephyra had no one to blame but themselves. When they had returned with Nizsa and her Riders safely slumbering after their recovery from the Fury, Headmaster Luxton had insisted on contacting the commander to give them some sort of commendation. Their protests had been waved off, their reputations elevated to heroic status. Warwick had brought his dragon, Irontooth, and his wife, the director, with him to convey the depths of their gratitude to Signey and Elara.

They’d been awarded small gold medals of valor over breakfast, welded into the shape of dragon wings, and classes had been canceled so that everyone could shop and prepare for a celebration ball after dinner. A ball that had rushed up more quickly than Elara had anticipated, too quick for her to find something Langlish. Besides, no amount of sophisticated fashion would disguise the fact that Elara didn’t belong here. She’d gone in the opposite direction and drawn attention to it.

From her closet, Elara had pulled out a dress she’d been saving, a strapless black maxi that cinched at the waist and billowed around her legs. Over that, she’d paired a beaded necklace shaped like a gorget, the beads in the green, blue, and gold of the Iryan flag—a statement none could ignore.

She heard a quiet knock seconds before she sensed Signey’s presence on the other side of the door. She crossed the room to let her in and nearly swallowed her own tongue.

Once again, Signey had pulled back her wavy hair into a tight, high ponytail that fell down her back like rippling water. She wore a midnight-blue dress, snug in all the right places, with white boning on the sides. Her feet were tucked into a pair of midnight-blue flats, and dark blue fingerless lace gloves covered her hands, the lace sewn to imitate dragon scales. Would it kill her Firstrider to try looking repulsive for once?

“You look beautiful,” Signey said with a hesitant smile. Elara realized for the first time that Signey was carrying a box in her hands. “Can I come in?”

Elara shook herself out of her appreciative stupor and stepped aside.

Almost two months at Hearthstone, and Elara hadn’t done much to make her room feel like home. Her clothes had migrated from her bags to the wardrobe, her shoes were tucked in a neat line poking out from beneath her bed, and her drake figurine perched proudly on the nightstand unless Elara was using it for astral calls. Aside from that, the room was mostly unchanged, except for the rumpled sheets that proved she’d made use of the bed, and the few personal items she’d unpacked. It wasn’t sterile, but it wasn’t cozy, either. Elara had never quite committed to the idea of staying here.

If Signey noticed, she decided not to mention it in favor of setting down her box on the nightstand. Elara realized that it wasn’t white boning that decorated her dress. It was backless, Signey’s modesty protected by a golden spine with curved ivory ribs that framed her sides. Real dragon bone, a type of relic Elara had never seen before, making Signey look both powerful and dangerous.

Striking.

Attainable.

Elara wanted to scream.

Signey opened the box—a peach container inlaid with mother-of-pearl—to reveal several compartments full of dragon jewelry. She had sterling silver claw rings in different colors. She had more earring cuffs designed to look as if a tiny dragon were crawling over the lobe. She had a necklace that appeared to have a dragon’s-eye inlaid in gold as the pendant, and another necklace that looked like scales cascading down to one’s collarbone. All the kinds of things only a country that worshipped dragons could think of as fashion.

Even after they had twice helped her, Elara still found it a bit creepy, wearing the bones of dead animals. “Um,” she said. “I don’t—”

“It’s traditional,” Signey said, ushering Elara closer to the box with both hands on her shoulders. “And expected, for a function like this.”

The shiver that raced through Elara’s body had many sources, and she didn’t want to examine any of them. Her attraction to her co-Rider was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. Without irritation to temper it, it snuck up on Elara at the most inopportune moments, and it was at times like this that Elara worried Signey could feel it through the bond. But surely she would have said something?

Signey lifted the necklace of scales from the box and held it in her palm in front of Elara’s face. “This seems very you. And it would probably go a lot better with your dress than that beaded thing. Unless, of course, you want to borrow something of mine—”

“No.” Elara slipped out from between Signey’s warm body and the nightstand, her heart beating unevenly in her chest. “This is an Iryan dress and an Iryan beaded necklace, handmade by a woman in Deadegg named Miss Elmiyra Johnson. She has nine children and still found time to give this to me for my last birthday.” Her fingers reached up to trace over the beads, which clacked rhythmically together. “This is me.”

Signey was still clutching the necklace as she dragged her eyes from Elara’s head to her sandals and slowly back up again. Elara felt as if her whole head had been set aflame, even more so when Signey’s gaze seemed to snag at her hips. Signey’s lips curved upward, and Elara noticed for the first time that she had painted them rose-petal pink.

“Fair enough,” she said with a smile that simply hinted at the dimple Elara had only seen once before. “The claw rings, then? Maybe you’ll get lucky, and Marius Lynwood will pick a fight.”

Elara’s laugh was a bit strangled, but Signey didn’t comment as she helped her affix a ring to each finger on her right hand. Signey’s hands were callused but gentle, the scratch of the lace against Elara’s skin making goose bumps rise everywhere they touched. She shouldn’t be feeling like this. She needed to get over this. What was wrong with her?

And yet Signey continued to hold her hand even after she was done, her head bent low so Elara couldn’t see her expression. “Can… you do me a favor?”

“I… Sure?”

“Don’t…” The words seemed to struggle free from Signey’s mouth. “Don’t leave me alone with the director. Or the commander, for that matter, but especially the director. Torrey will be looking out for Jesper, but I… It would be nice if you could look out for me.”

Elara’s eyebrows knitted together. “Yes, of course. Is it because of your father?”

“Becoming a Rider was always the plan, to honor my mother and sister. But if I pass my final exam and land a government job, then I might get to see my father. If I play the patriotic soldier well enough, I might even get to request a pardon. My family could be whole again.” Signey released Elara’s hand to wrap her arms around her own stomach. She was not, Elara realized, a girl accustomed to intimacy. “But until then… Every time I see the director—I just—I remember that he’s trapped at the Mausoleum for something I know he didn’t do, and I—”

Elara pulled Signey into a hug. She resisted for so long that Elara began to let her go and apologize. But then she melted against Elara’s chest, locking her arms around Elara’s waist, and Elara pulled her trembling body closer. She had been struggling with homesickness after being away from her family for almost two months, even with daily calls to her loved ones. Signey hadn’t seen her father in over five years. Her mother and sister in even longer.

“I’ll make sure you’re never alone,” she promised, feeling Zephyra sending comfort and approval across the bond to soothe them both. “We’re a team. You and me and Zephyra.”

“You and me and Zephyra,” Signey repeated like a promise of her own. “Okay.”

The Hearthstone ballroom was lavish and crowded. Three chandeliers lit the long room, which was lined with framed portraits of white people who Elara didn’t recognize. The only furniture in the room was against one of the wood-paneled walls, a line of tables filled with finger foods and bowls of punch. The students and professors seemed to be serving themselves, as, unlike at Pearl Bay Palace, Elara could see no servants walking around with trays. In fact, the only people she saw who she didn’t recognize from one class or another were the musicians on the raised dais across from the food tables.

Near the back of the room, the doors had been thrown open to reveal a stone patio. Beyond, in the early winter darkness, Elara could see dragons huddled close to enjoy the festivities. Even though they couldn’t fit through the opening, they could hear the music, feel their Riders’ joy, and cuddle with one another on the lawn. She could sense Zephyra among them, an easy and comforting presence at the boundary of her mind, and sent her a greeting. Her dragon trilled in response.

“It’s a shame you’re so eager to go,” Signey said as they joined the throng. Eyes ran over her appreciatively, but Signey didn’t seem to notice the attention. Or maybe she didn’t care. “I haven’t seen Zephyra this happy in her whole life.”

“How old were you when she hatched?”

“Four or five. My mother and sister were already paired. Jesper’s egg had hatched a few days before, but it would be a while before he found Torrey.” They made it to the tables. Signey grabbed two small plates and began to fill them with food, dinner rolls with sweet cream butter and cucumber sandwiches, rose-petal drop scones and almond shortbread cookies. “All dragons from the Beacon Dragon Preserve are born colorless. She was snow-white, with the gentlest eyes. I wanted her to choose me so badly I was sick with yearning.”

Elara swallowed, reminded of her attempt to join the Sky Battalion. “I know that feeling. And,” she added softly, “I’m not eager to go. Sure, I don’t want to be a Rider and I don’t want to live here. But I wouldn’t say that I’m eager to say goodbye to y—to all this. Everything’s not as straightforward as I thought.”

“Did you ever figure it out?” Signey asked, handing her a plate. “If you enlisted for the wrong reasons?”

“I did. I definitely did.” Elara nibbled at a dinner roll, swallowing before she continued. “I’m the Childe Empyrean’s sister. I joined the Sky Battalion because I wanted to do more. To be more. But that’s not a good reason. That’s not the right reason.”

Signey was watching her with an unreadable expression. “I think you’re more than just the Childe Empyrean’s sister. Much more.”

Elara ducked her head, even though her skin was too dark to show her blush. It should have meant nothing, but it meant everything. The first time they’d met, Signey had questioned Elara’s right to be in the room. Now her Firstrider looked at her as though Elara were the only person in this one.

“Miss Vincent. Miss Soto.”

Professor Smithers approached in a steel-gray suit with a forest-green pocket square. Behind him, Mr. Lewis wore a forest-green suit and a steel-gray pocket square. Elara smiled at how, even here, the two men moved in sync.

“We just wanted to give you our thanks,” the professor continued, “for your help the other day. Who knows what might have happened if… Well. I suppose the two of you know well enough.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” said Signey. “I don’t think any of us wanted an… incident.”

Mr. Lewis slid his hand into his husband’s. Though he was not a Hearthstone professor, he lived in the castle with Professor Smithers during the school year. Elara had heard rumors that he was a historian, which essentially meant he could work from wherever he pleased, and it clearly pleased him to be at his husband’s side. “We’ve gone a year without suffering from the Fury, and we were hardly prepared for it now. These old bones don’t have the resistance that they used to.”

Elara laughed. Both men were in their late fifties, hardly what she would call old. “Are you feeling all right? Has Nizsa recovered well?”

“Yes, thank you.” Professor Smithers grinned, his mustache crinkling. “You are a remarkable young woman, Miss Vincent. A remarkable Iryan, as well as a remarkable person in your own right.”

Elara swallowed back a sudden wave of emotion, wondering if she would ever grow out of her need for adult approval. She nodded, afraid that if she spoke her voice would crack.

When they were gone, Signey snorted. “I can’t believe you’ve been here less than two months and you’re already a professor’s favorite. Disgusting.”

“Jealousy looks so ugly on you, Firstrider.”

“Nothing looks ugly on me.”

Elara couldn’t argue with that. Especially when it gave her an excuse to give Signey a slow once-over. “I didn’t say this earlier, but you look… Well, you always look… But tonight, you really, really look—”

“The director and the commander are leaving the party,” Zephyra reported, saving Elara from herself. “I think they are heading to the waterfront so I cannot hear what they discuss.”

Elara and Signey abandoned their plates on the table and crossed the room leisurely. Though they were looking at the ballroom around them, Zephyra sent her view of the darkened grounds and the Warwicks disappearing down the path toward the boathouse. Jesper caught sight of them from near the dais, then tapped Torrey’s shoulder and pointed them out, but Elara shook her head before they could cut through the crowd. Signey didn’t want her brother involved, and she respected that.

By the time they made it to the patio, the Warwicks were gone, the woods hiding any trace of the couple. Signey led the way, as silent as she’d been that night in Luxton’s office, while Elara watched their backs. None of the dragons milling about took notice of them as they passed, none except Zephyra, and it was only their bond that told Elara she was the sole focus of the tranquil dragon’s attention. Zephyra would let them know if anyone came looking.

The boathouse seemed deserted when Signey activated her dragon relic and lifted them off their feet. They touched down on the same sundeck where they had first called a truce, the golden wood turned silver in the moonlight, the curtains behind the slightly open doors swaying like ghosts in the dark. Signey shoved her against the wall beside the entrance, pressing in close, and Elara froze, light-headed from shock and excitement.

“Shit,” Signey sent, oblivious as ever to the effect her actions had on Elara. “They’re right there. I thought they’d be downstairs.”

“Do they look like they’re coming outside?”

If she noticed the long pause before Elara asked the question, Signey ignored that, too. She pressed closer, trying to squint through the inlaid glass without being seen. She smelled delicate yet spicy, like honeysuckle and cloves. “No. No, I think we’ll be fine as long as we’re quiet.”

Elara tipped her head back until it hit the wall and closed her eyes, pretending to concentrate.

“… fourth time this year,” the commander said, his voice soft but clear from this close. “It’s getting worse. We need to accelerate the plan.”

Director Mireya Warwick sounded exhausted. “At this point, things will fall where they may or fall apart entirely. We’ve done all we can.”

“If it hadn’t been for Reeve—”

“Do not start—”

“He ruined everything five years ago, Mireya. We were so close. We were poised to find it. We would have found it if we hadn’t—”

“I said, don’t start.” The director’s voice was as sharp as the crack of a whip. “He is our son. We’re in this predicament because we loved him, and that means loving all of him. Even the parts we don’t agree with.”

Elara could feel Signey’s eyes on her face, but she didn’t open her own. Her mind was racing, trying to piece together this new information. What did Reeve have to do with the commander’s plan to raise the First Dragon?

We were so close. We were poised to find it.

If it was the Empty, how had Reeve stopped them from finding it during the war? He had never even heard of it until researching with Faron… right?

She shook her head. She trusted Reeve, more than almost everyone. He would never lie to her. Whatever his parents had planned or were planning, he wasn’t involved.

“Perhaps we should pay Barret a visit. He was useful before. He should prove useful again.”

“The Mausoleum hasn’t been kind to him. I don’t think he’s the man he once was.”

The commander sighed. “He’s lucky that we need him alive.”

It was only when Signey began to tremble against her that Elara realized Barret must be her father. Before she could do anything, her Firstrider was already on the move, shoving open the doors so hard that the glass in them almost shattered against the inside wall. Elara cursed and hurried after her. Commander Warwick looked surprised, but, beside him, Director Mireya Warwick was a blank slate.

This was the first time that Elara had seen Reeve’s mother up close, and she could immediately see the resemblance between them. The director was a pale-skinned woman, her dark hair in loose curls that framed her face. Her eyes were mahogany, her eyebrows thin and expertly arched. She was tall, like Reeve, with a swanlike neck, and she wore a black leather wristband with an emerald dragon’s-eye.

“Let me talk to him, sir,” Signey said. She sounded so confident, so fearless, that even Elara almost believed she’d come here with a purpose. But she could feel Signey’s nerves across the bond, and she sent as much silent encouragement back as she could. It was too late to do anything but commit to this course of action. “If he’ll come back to his old self for anyone, you know it will be me.”

Commander Warwick stared at her, clearly trying to figure out how much she had overheard. Elara stepped closer to her Firstrider, ready to fight their way out if they had to. At the back of her mind, she felt Zephyra shift, concerned.

But Signey lifted her chin. “I don’t know what’s happening, sir, but I am one of the top students at Hearthstone. I managed the dragon bond by myself for over a decade before I found my Wingleader, and I’m one of the youngest recipients of the medal of valor in history. I’m a scion of the Soto Dynasty and, above all, I’m Barret Soto’s youngest and only surviving daughter. If you need information from my father, I’m the person to send, whether you trust me with the full details of this mission or not. Consider it my final exam.”

It was so quiet that the distant sounds of the party, clinking glasses and classical music, drifted across the grounds. Elara could hear her own heart beating loudly in her chest, hear Signey’s racing across the bond as the Warwicks weighed the consequences of her offer.

Finally, Mireya Warwick said, “All right. I’ll get you clearance for a visit to the Mausoleum. I’ll allow you to see your father. But in return, the information you seek must not be shared with anyone aside from us and our dragons. Your den included. Believe me, Miss Soto”—her eyes were like gaping pits in the dark—“Gavriel, Irontooth, and I will know if you cross us.”

“We won’t,” said Signey.

“We won’t,” Elara echoed, uneasy over how quickly the Warwicks had given in to this demand. Either Barret Soto had information they needed very badly… or they didn’t expect Elara and Signey to come back.

The commander slid a hand around his wife’s waist. She leaned into him, and he smiled at them in a way that was both amused and deeply ominous. “Let’s return to the party, then. After all, you’re the guests of honor.”