WHEN ELARA WOKE UP IN AN UNFAMILIAR BED, SHE WANTED TO rage. Not because of the Fury, the memory of which came back to her in fits and starts like the world’s worst stage show, but because she knew that she had once again played right into the commander’s hands. What better catalyst for war than a dragon attack on San Irie, perpetrated by the mount of the only Iryan Rider in history? What better scapegoat for the necessity of such a war than the Iryan everyone already assumed was a spy?
She climbed out of the bed and nearly tripped over a package on the floor. It was one of her bags, fully packed and transported from Hearthstone. The other was half-hidden under the mattress, equally full. Elara’s stomach dropped as she headed for the door. There were soldiers in the hallway, dressed in black and carrying swords. They began to draw them as soon as they caught sight of her, and Elara quickly retreated into her room.
Before she could close her door, the one across the hall opened. Signey stepped out, ignoring the soldiers, and backed Elara into her own bedroom. She kicked the door shut behind them, but a soldier reopened it and stepped inside to watch them. “Are you all right?”
“Where are we and how did we get here?” Elara asked.
“I saw Irontooth in the garden when I woke up, so I assume he forced us here after we flew back that day. This is Rosetree Manor, the home of the commander and the director,” said Signey. “Something about this place, it’s blocking my connection to the den. Zephyra is right outside, and I can’t even hear her.”
Elara’s eyes widened. “But how?”
“Dragon relics. Their magic can be directed to influence the natural world and neutralize the unnatural magic of the creatures they come from. If the commander built this manor with the remains of dragons, he could conceivably keep his own den from spying on him. It’s rare, dangerous, impossible magic, and it’s not in any of the books about this place.”
Elara eyed the soldier’s impassive face, biting back her idea for a possible solution. Instead, she silently searched through her bag and then cursed again. Her drake figurine was there, but she couldn’t summon and thus couldn’t use it anyway, making it useless to contact anyone. But depending on how long they’d been unconscious after the flight from San Irie to Langley, she might have missed Faron and Reeve’s last call. They might be looking for her.
Unless they were too busy preparing for war.
“Are we allowed to wander around?” she asked, trying not to sound defeated.
“With an escort, yes. I’ve found the soldiers only get stabby when I approach the front door. Would you like to take a walk?”
Elara raised her eyebrows. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“I have no idea why your queen sent you here,” Signey added through their bond. That, at least, was still intact. “You make a terrible spy.”
Rosetree Manor was excessive, far too excessive to have been home to only three people. It was situated behind a large fishpond, ringed by thick trees and buffeted by an expansive back garden that was divided into sections. Zephyra waited for them by the fishpond, surrounded by her own ring of escorts; they carried swords and what looked like net launchers, likely so they could ground her if she tried to take flight. As soon as Elara got close to her dragon, she could once again feel the subtle tide of Zephyra’s emotions from her side of the bond. Whatever magic the commander had erected, their proximity to each other was enough to temporarily sidestep it.
After nuzzling them both with her snout, Zephyra reported that Irontooth and the director had left a few hours ago—and that, even out here, she could not reach the rest of the den to call for help.
“All the doors are guarded or locked or both,” Signey told Elara. “They wouldn’t let me see you until you woke up, probably so they could eavesdrop. It seems like we have to play along for now. At least until the director or the commander arrives.”
“The war could have started by then,” Elara sent back. “He could be saying anything about us.”
“I know.” Signey sighed. “I know.”
Instead of going back inside, they joined Zephyra by the pond. She curled her body into a crescent, and they sat against her flank with their legs touching, protected by a line of soldiers from the occasional sunlight that broke through the otherwise gray clouds.
The fresh air should have done wonders for Elara’s anxiety, but not today. Not with Barret Soto’s revelations running through her head. Not with the dread of a second war hanging over everything. Not with her sole means of contacting her family taken away.
She watched the soldiers watch her, swallowing. “Do you think the den is all right? Or would the commander have people watching them, too?”
“The latter seems most likely, but honestly, I don’t know.” Signey picked up a blade of grass and began to pick it apart. Then another. Then another. “If they’re in danger, it’s my fault.”
Elara reached over to take her hands, rubbing bits of greenery off her skin. “Jesper, Torrey, and Azeal are made of stronger stuff than you’re giving them credit for.”
Signey’s lips quirked upward in a faint smile. “Wow, it’s almost like you care for them.”
“I do. I care about all of you.”
And she did. Even with the wall up, Elara could feel the traces of Zephyra’s affections, the whispers of Signey’s respect. The den had somehow become her friends when she wasn’t paying attention, and Langley was not the land of nightmares that she had imagined it to be. It was a country like any other, where the people in power devoured others whole just to gain more, while the people underneath them lived and worked and laughed and loved.
“I never asked you,” Elara said, lacing their fingers together when Signey didn’t pull away, “but you’re Langlish and a member of the Dragon Legion. Even after everything, even with your family on the line, you keep working against the Warwicks. How do you know that you’re doing the right thing?”
“I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘the right thing,’” Signey replied, her gaze lowered. “Before he was arrested, my father always used to say that it’s our job as Riders not just to defend the rights of the empire but also to make sure that the empire is kept on the right side of history. Even before I met you, I knew there had always been something off about our interactions with other countries. And now… Now San Irie is collateral damage in something that was never about it to begin with. That’s not right. Mama and Celyn wouldn’t stand for it, and neither should Jesper and I.”
Do not kiss her, Elara told herself sternly.
“As I said many suns ago,” Zephyra said with so much amusement that Elara worried her stray thought had, in fact, been overheard, “the two of you have the same soul. You both want to fight for something that you truly believe in. You’re both capable of such great things. You’re both an inspiration to everyone around you.”
“Stop,” Signey groaned as if Zephyra were a parent determined to embarrass her.
Elara laughed because she knew the feeling—but her laugh cut off abruptly once a sword was shoved in her face.
“While you’re on the manor grounds, you will speak aloud,” said a nearby soldier. The sword shifted until it was pointed at Zephyra. “Or we’ve been given permission to start collecting dragon relics from now on.”
“All right,” Signey snapped. Only Elara knew her well enough to hear the tremor in her voice. “We’re talking out loud.”
The soldier gave them one more hard look before sheathing the sword. Elara swallowed, looking out at the fishpond with nothing to say. Her pulse pounded in her chest when she noticed that there were even more guards there; had they arrived while the three of them had been talking? Those soldiers were murmuring among one another, assuming that the two girls were paying them little attention. Elara might have started another conversation to distract herself from her stress if she hadn’t heard one of them utter the word queen.
“Zephyra,” she sent before saying aloud, “Do you want to tell me how your classes went before I came?”
Signey caught on to the plan immediately, launching into a spiel that Elara could easily tune out. Meanwhile, Zephyra allowed Elara to use her ears, to hear all that she could hear. The world was so much louder to a dragon, but Zephyra was so used to picking voices out of the din that everything hushed except for the single soldier speaking. “… coming to the National Hall for peace talks. I hear that she’s desperate.”
“Not desperate enough,” said a second. “I can’t believe we have to babysit instead of being in Beacon.”
“Well, if you hadn’t—”
Elara dropped back to her own senses, anxiety pulsing across her skin all over again. Aveline was on her way here because of her. Aveline had no idea what the commander had done, what Elara knew, and this couldn’t be good. If anything happened to their queen, it would be her fault. It would be all her fault.
Signey’s hand covered hers in the grass. Her lips were still moving, but her gaze was steady as she sent across the bond, “We need to get you home. Maybe the peace talks will go well, but in case they don’t, you can’t be here. You could be used as a hostage or—or worse.”
I’m already a hostage, Elara almost said, but that was hardly a productive thought. Signey had risked her education, her family, and now her own life to do the right thing every day since Elara had caught her in Luxton’s office. It had seemed as if they had time, to wait and to scheme, but that time was rapidly running out. When the queen arrived, it might be too late.
“Okay.” Elara forced herself to breathe, a slow in and out, before she met Signey’s determined brown eyes. “What’s the plan?”