a chest of linens, having just made Kor’s bed with ridiculously luxurious silks that I thought he might appreciate and was picking out Yvera’s, when I heard Ben call my name.
“Sarah?”
“What?” I said with a start, hitting my head on the shelf above the chest. “Agh!”
“What is it?” Ben said urgently, rushing into the storage room.
I straightened, rubbing my tender scalp. “Nothing, just bonked my head. What’s wrong? I thought you were talking with your father.”
Ben frowned and raised his hand to the back of my head. I pulled away from his touch, which made his eyes tighten. “I’m just trying to heal you, Sarah.”
“No need to waste your energy on a bruise,” I insisted. “I know you haven’t gotten much sunlight today—”
“Ashes,” Ben said, in the tone my British gran would say “rubbish.”
“I have enough to spare to heal a bruise. Besides, I don’t want you to be in pain when you talk to Avva for the first time.”
My heart plummeted into my stomach. “Talk to.…”
“He wants to speak with you, if that’s alright?” Ben said uncertainly.
I stared at him. Somehow, my heart was still managing to pound inside my stomach. “The King of the dragons is asking if it’s ‘alright’ if I speak with him?”
Ben put a hand to his forehead and briefly closed his eyes. “We’re not.… Never mind. Yes, he is asking. If you don’t want to, just say so. He won’t push. But he did make me at least come ask you if you would.”
“He’s giving me an option?”
“For the last time, yes. Now can I heal your head?”
“Maybe you’d better,” I muttered. “Then at least I might be able to wrap my brain around this.”
“Thank you.” Ben reached for my head again, and this time I made myself stand still. Svyer’s healing already seemed like a lifetime ago, so I waited with almost as much apprehension as if it were the first time. And it was a first—the first time for Ben to be the healer, and somehow that difference was significant.
Sure enough, I had to use all my willpower to keep from shivering when his warm fingers wound through my hair to gently touch the scalp. Then the warmth sunk from his fingers into my head, and I about went to heaven.
It felt like soaking my head in a hot bath, without having to worry about water or hair getting in my face. But even more, his magic sent electric tingles through my whole body in a way Svyer’s hadn’t. With so much of my self-control going to keeping myself in a state somewhere between trembling and melting into a puddle, a soft “oooh” escaped my lips. Fortunately, Ben didn’t seem to hear. His gaze was distant, even though his gold eyes glowed.
All too soon, the warmth faded, but the tingles remained until Ben removed his hand and the glow in his eyes died.
He scowled. “You had a headache building, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” I said, too blissed to even be sheepish.
“We overextended you.” Ben sighed. “And didn’t feed you.”
Now that he mentioned it, my stomach felt hollow. Strange, considering I’d stuffed myself to bursting for breakfast.
“All I’ve done today is walk around—”
“And open how many magically sealed doors? That takes energy, Sarah—energy you’ve scarcely begun to build, let alone use. You’re going to be powerful, that’s for sure, but you have to give yourself time to work up to it.”
He sighed again. “Or rather, I have to give you that time. Don’t let any of us ask you to do anything remotely smelling of magic for at least the rest of the day, you hear me?”
I shrugged. “Sure, if I could even recognize what ‘smells of magic.’”
Ben grimaced. “Well, talking to Avva won’t. I’ve already got the spell going—”
“Wait,” I gasped. “You mean there’s a King sitting around waiting for me? Why didn’t you say so?”
I hadn’t realized I had made my decision until my legs were already striding as quickly as they could out of the storage room and toward Ben’s room.
“It’s not a big deal,” Ben said, catching up to me easily. “He’s patient—the most patient person I know. He’s probably just reading some report to pass the time. Besides, he’s the one who told me to go ask you if you’d come speak with him.”
“Yes, but he didn’t expect you to heal me—”
“He would have been disappointed with me if I hadn’t,” Ben cut in.
I would have protested some more, but we’d reached Ben’s door. I didn’t know how this communication spell worked, but it seemed likely that if it was still going, the King would now be within earshot. I froze there as my panic at entering the presence of royalty overshot my anxiety at keeping him waiting.
Since my gaze was fixed on the open doorway, I felt but didn’t see Ben place a hand on my shoulder.
There’s nothing to worry about, he said. His mental voice was half gentle reassurance, half amusement. You’re not in trouble. He only wants to talk.
“About what?” I hissed.
You, of course.
I stared up at him, jaw dropping.
Ben sighed. Somehow, I thought you might panic like this. I tried to tell him to give you more time, but he told me to ask.
“No, it’s OK,” I said numbly, looking away. It was a blatant lie, of course. I was trying ridiculously hard not to hyperventilate right now. “Just, um. What do I do?”
Ben gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Walk in and talk. You ready?”
If I spoke, it would probably be a squeak, so I only nodded.
Ben put an arm around my shoulder and led me into his room.
At first, nothing appeared to be different to me than when I had left. There was the bed we’d made up together. (My brain was too full of panic for a return of the mortification of when Kor had interrupted us.) There was the rug I’d placed, the tea set I’d found and put on the desk.… But there was something hanging on the wall now above the desk, set into brackets. At first, I thought it was strange that Ben had settled in enough to decorate, but then Ben slipped his arm off my shoulder to go stand in front of and look at the gold oval.
“Avva,” he said to it, a warmth in his voice and a tug to his lips. “This is Sarah Lind of Earth.”
I froze again, so Ben had to reach back and pull me in front of him, placing a hand on each of my shoulders—to steady me or keep me from bolting, or both.
For a moment, I thought we were looking into an oval, convex mirror, and that Ben had lost it. But I was not reflected in its surface, and the golden-haired man displayed on it had crinkles in the corners of his eyes and the slightest traces of lines in his forehead that Ben did not. His beard was also more robust—not long, but fuller than Ben’s more closely trimmed version. And there was something in those eyes that Ben did not have—not yet. It was a depth—a warm, welcoming depth, but also a terrifying one in its piercing nature. As if those eyes had seen all there was to see, and more.
The King smiled, and his eyes crinkled and warmed in a way that made me feel dizzy with wonder. I’ll admit, I was dazzled; without even a crown, he looked every part a King, in all the highest ideals of the role. And yet my fear vanished. No one could smile like that, could have that kind of look in their eyes, and mean me harm.
“Sarah,” Ben said quietly. “This is Kavarian Sunfilled, Golden King of the Six Realms…and my father.”
“Sarah,” the King repeated, his eyes warming even further. His voice, too, was like Ben’s, but deeper and more mature. “I do not have the words to tell you how honored I am to finally meet you.”
I blinked. It was as if he had read the words straight from my mind. Except he would first have had to decipher and string them in coherent order first.
“Me?”
“Fetch her a chair, Koriben,” the King said with a chuckle. He glanced back at me. “Forgive me, my dear. I can see you have had a long day. You look ready to fall over.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“I’ll have to go look for one,” Ben warned him. “All the things like that were put in storage, like I said.”
“I think there’s some in the back corner, by the kitchen supplies,” I offered. I gripped the edge of the desk, and Ben gave my shoulders one last squeeze before letting go.
See? Nothing to worry about, he told me as he left.
I shook my head at him. Maybe not in the way I had first thought, but this interview, whatever it was for, would not be easy. But Ben was no doubt too used to his father to understand that.
Though I marveled again for a second at how closely they resembled each other. The King was older and wiser-looking, sure, but would Ben one day…?
Too late, I realized my thoughts had wandered, and the King was waiting for me to refocus, his head cocked and a slight smile on his face.
“Sorry,” I said, embarrassment making me blurt out the truth. “It’s just, you’re so similar.…”
“It’s true,” the King said fondly, looking to the side where Ben had vanished from his view. “And more so every day. He’s growing so quickly.”
He sighed. “Too quickly.”
“He’s twenty,” I said in puzzlement.
Kavarian turned that fond smile to me. “And I am one hundred and forty.”
I stared. I couldn’t help it, no matter how rude it might be. He didn’t look a day over fifty, if that: he had not a single streak of gray in his golden hair, and had perfect musculature, judging from his neck and what I could see of his broad shoulders and torso as he reclined in his chair.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You can’t be.”
He laughed warmly. “I shall take that as a compliment. But I am indeed. Drakón live long—especially a Monarch if the Tree is pleased with them. Something for you to consider when making your choice.”
I didn’t know what he meant about that last bit, but I was more interested in asking about something else. “What does the Tree have to do with it?”
“All drakón derive their strength from the heartfire granted them by the Tree—but especially the Monarch and Heir. The greater heartfire She gives us is the source of our greater strength and power. That gift can be added to if one proves worthy of a greater trust…or taken away, if one does not.”
I didn’t realize I had grimaced until he gave me a compassionate smile. “I can understand how that might discomfort you, having grown without the knowledge of your Tree your entire life. I cannot speak from personal experience of the Tree of Ice, but I can say that the Tree of Flame can be trusted. She is the purest and wisest being I know; all the good that I have become, all the good that I have done, has been because of Her.”
That gave me pause, but by then, Ben was returning with a simple wooden chair.
“You’re right: the back right corner. How much have you been through the storage room already?” he teased.
As he set the chair behind me and pushed it in for me, I said self-consciously, “I like unpacking, settling in. It’s the satisfying part of moving.”
“By that, do you mean traveling?” the King asked curiously.
“No,” I said in confusion. Meanwhile, Ben pried the oval off the wall and lowered it to head height for me, reattaching it with a gold glimmer of power. “Moving. Packing everything you own and taking it somewhere else, where you’ll live for a while until you need to move again.”
“Why would you do that?” Ben asked, looking nonplussed. “Battle? Earthquakes?”
“Those, but also lots of peaceful reasons. A different job, going to school, wanting a change.… What?”
Ben was staring. “And you’ve done that a lot? With twelve of you?”
“Well, my oldest brother and his wife and son live separately now, so no, not with twelve. But when it was the ten of us…yeah.”
“Interesting,” the King said sincerely. “And this is a regular thing for your people?”
I hesitated. “Maybe not as many times as we did. My parents have careers that…move them a lot.”
Or that was the story I always gave. The truth was a bit more complicated. Both of them seemed to be on a never-ending quest to find what they needed from their work and thus far hadn’t found it—or not for long, and not at the same time. Mom struggled to find a job in her field of linguistics that would give her enough flexibility to be as home as much as she wanted to be and yet earn enough to help make ends meet. Dad…was a brilliant yet highly principled engineer who kept seeking companies or colleges that would pay him what he was worth yet give him work and leadership he could sanction.
Since his field was the higher paying, some of my siblings resented him for how he never seemed to be able to compromise his standards. I was the most like him, and even I struggled to understand why he never seemed able to settle, if only for our sakes. Yet every time an ethical situation came up or toxic culture grew, he stood his ground, and if needed, he left without looking back. I admired him for his conviction as much as I struggled with its consequences.
But I had always put on the brave, loyal front for others. Even though that was harder now than usual to deceive these two, I added, “But it’s common for most families to move a time or two.”
“Was that difficult for you, doing this more than most?” the King asked softly.
I looked away and didn’t answer right away. I struggled for a moment to say the polite, the superficial thing, but I couldn’t. Even without meeting the King’s gaze, I could feel his eyes on me, seeing the truth anyway and not judging me for it. “It.… Yes. It was.”
Ridiculously, my eyes stung. I blinked rapidly. The King didn’t need to see me cry, especially over such a simple question and my equally simple answer. But it got harder to fight back the tears when I felt Ben’s warm hand rest on my shoulder again.
This was too much, being in between the two golden men. I’d grown up in a loving family, but it was a busy, loud, chaotic mess of chores and schedules and school and work and extracurriculars and mismatched socks and hand-me-down clothes and struggling to find the right shoes for everyone before rushing out the door. One in which it was so easy to feel lost and forgotten, even with the best of intentions. Never in my memory had I felt so…seen. So listened to. So wrapped in the warm glow of two of the best souls I had ever met. Like sitting next to a fire after a long trek through the dark on a cold winter’s day, wrapped in a blanket and with a mug of cocoa in my hands.
Hard as I tried, a tear spilled over. I wiped it away furiously. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
Ben was leaning in to say something, but the King held up a hand. “Koriben, would you mind leaving the two of us alone?”
“Alone?” he said in surprise.
“What, why?” I asked at nearly the same time, feeling a twinge of my former stage fright return.
The King’s answer fit more with Ben’s question, but he looked at me. “Yes, I think that is best.”
Ben hesitated as he gazed at the King, looking like he wanted to protest but knowing or respecting his father too much to do so. He looked at me, as if for confirmation that was alright. I turned to face him, hoping he would see the panic in my eyes and that the King would not.
Whatever Ben saw, it wasn’t enough to defy his father. He sighed and gave my shoulder another comforting squeeze. “Call me back in when you’re done.”
He went to the door. Out of his father’s view now, he stopped for a moment and cast me a troubled look, but then he closed the door behind him.
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Sarah,” the King said gently, drawing my attention back to him. He leaned back in his wooden chair—far too simple and utilitarian to be a throne—and regarded me kindly. “Especially in private. I apologize for asking so much of you so soon. I would not do so, except I fear that time is short, and I did not know when you would have another moment of such relative safety and leisure again. None of the other times in which Koriben and I have spoken since he found you have been as ideal.”
“Time is short?” I asked, feeling an icy curl of dread form in my stomach. My former stagefright now seemed petty in comparison. “How?”
“Koriben told me he gave you a brief explanation of the unraveling of the Covenants, and how our magics and sungates are waning. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “A brief explanation. But he didn’t say we were working under a deadline. I figured that if they’ve held for the past thousand years, they would for at least a few more.”
“And they might…if left alone,” the King said heavily. He sighed, and for the first time, I saw what it looked like to bear the weight of six worlds on your shoulders. “But shadows creep over the horizon that tell me we shall not be so lucky.”
I swallowed. “Why didn’t Ben say so?”
The King smiled wearily. “No doubt because he has tried not to overwhelm you or influence your decision. But he…has also been fixated on one shadow in particular, thinking that in dispelling it, the others will be at least partially as well.”
“And what shadow is that?”
For the first time, the King hesitated, studying me. He said quietly, “A conversation for another time, I think. Flame willing that we have it.”
“Then what did you want to speak to me about?” I demanded. Then flinched at my rudeness. “Sorry, your majesty.”
“My what?” the King said, mild amusement dispelling some of the darkness in his eyes.
I sighed. Either that hadn’t translated well or dramá honestly thought differently about what it meant to be royalty. “Nothing, just something people say to address a king or queen respectfully.”
“Please, call me Kavarian, my dear,” the King said, shifting in his seat as a warm, fond smile returned to his face. “Even if we had such terms of respect, your rank would render them unnecessary. We speak now as equals, you and I. Or, at least, I choose to do so, until you decide to deny your birthright.”
“Equals?” I stammered.
“Indeed. In fact, that is what I wished to speak with you about.” He paused one moment, and his eyes grew soft. “My son confided in me that you have had difficulty accepting that your Tree could have chosen you. Is this true?”
I flushed. “Does Ben tell you everything?”
The King chuckled. “Blessed Flame, no. And thank the Tree for that. I have no more desire to know everything that goes on in the life and mind of a boy of twenty summers any more than Koriben wishes me to. In fact, one benefit of Koriben’s travels over the past year has been his increased independence in that regard.”
He gave me a confidential smile. “Although don’t tell him I said that.”
“I won’t,” I said with an uneasy smile in return. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get used to this whole “chatting as equals with a one-hundred-and-forty-year-old King of the Dragons” deal.
“I have a confession, though,” the King said with a rueful smile. “And that is that I have waited for you for far longer than Koriben has been searching for you. You cannot imagine the joy and relief it brought me when Koriben said he had found you.”
“For far longer.… Why?”
“I have known since becoming Heir myself well over a century ago that if my people were to survive, the Covenants would have to be restored, as have most of the Heirs and Monarchs since their breaking. The Tree promised me that I would have a hand in their restoration but only revealed to me how a little at a time. When my son was born, I knew he was part of our answer. A significant part, but the salvation of seven worlds and two peoples is too great for one mortal to bear alone. When I understood that, the Tree revealed to me the final piece we needed to begin: you.”
My heart thudded, loudly enough I wondered if he could hear through the looking glass, or whatever this oval was.
“Me? Like…someone like me, like a Moontouched—”
“No, Sarah Lind,” the King said gently. “You. In Her sacred fire, I saw you, just as you are now, in every detail, from your face to your voice, to your mannerisms and expressions. In fact, I have seen you many, many times before. The Tree appears to me wearing the avatars of the women of my past, with one exception. I never knew until that moment why She would sometimes choose to counsel me in the form of a good, wise, strong young woman with brown hair and eyes—the only form I could not remember having ever seen elsewhere. And that is because I had not. And would not, until the moment my son brought you into this room on this day.”
I froze in my seat, ramrod straight from the effort of fighting a primordial urge to flee. After a few moments of silence, I said, “I…don’t…know how to take this.”
“Take it as you will, then. I only thought that you should know.”
The King’s eyes were soft with compassion, but somehow that only made my panic deeper. If he were flippant, charismatic, or manipulative, I could sense something was off and discard everything he said. Write him off as a madman, smash this oval, run out of the room, and tell Ben I was done.
But those soft golden eyes.… They fixed me to my seat with the crushing weight of truth and the eye-pricking warmth of understanding.
I realized what the hardest part was.
“You.…” I rasped. Then swallowed. Hardly believing the words even as I said them, yet unable to contain, let alone deny them, they escaped through trembling lips. “You…love me. Don’t you?”
His golden eyes warmed, and in spite of myself, I felt that warmth sinking into me, wrapping me as if in sheltering wings of that pure…love.
“Indeed, I do. More than I can express. As difficult as I know it may be for you to believe and accept, I already think of you as a daughter. I cannot help it.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Yet somehow I do. I will not try to give an explanation; there is none. Yet that is the truth.”
I could not help but believe him.
I sat there, stunned. “I…I don’t know how to take this, either.”
“Again, take it for what you will. But I hope the knowledge will give you strength as you make your decision.”
“What decision?” I cried. “Everything I keep hearing seems to tell me that the decision has already been made for me.”
“No, it has not,” the King said with kind patience. “The Tree did not tell me why She spoke to me in your form. She only did, until one day She briefly assumed it to tell me that my son would not have to bear his burden alone. You have already helped him bear it. If that is all you wish to do, I do not blame you for it. I thank you for that help and wish you a safe return to your home.”
He allowed the silence to rest between us. It was probably peaceable silence for him; for me, it felt like I was sitting on a thousand needles. I didn’t feel like he was guilting me—there was nothing passive-aggressive about his manner. He was simply waiting with inexhaustible patience and knowing eyes for me to feel to the bone and then say out loud the conclusion we both knew I had already come to.
“That…is not all I wish to do. If Ben needs me…I want to help.”
A memory of Svyer, speaking to Ben, came to me: You don’t have to save the worlds by yourself. You know that, right?
“He needs help,” I said softly. “Even if he doesn’t know what that looks like yet. Even if neither of us do.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” the King said quietly. “But that is about my son’s troubles. We are here to discuss yours, and I see there is something else, something deeper, still troubling you. What is it?”
I hesitated. Took a deep breath. And, ignoring all the reasons I should have had to not trust this near-stranger, I spoke my greatest fear. “If none of us know what we need…then what makes all of you think it is me?”
The King leaned back and pondered long enough that I wondered if he was going to answer.
Finally, he said, “It appears to me, my dear—and please correct me if I have misunderstood—that you are caught in a battle between what you want and what you think you deserve. And the fear of reaching for what might be within your grasp, but being denied it, is keeping you from reaching altogether.”
I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. The impact of that blinding light he had cast on the shadows of my heart made breathing a monumental task. My arms gripped the edges of that simple wooden chair until my hands began cramping.
“Is that right?” the King asked gently.
I couldn’t speak, so I only nodded. I couldn’t meet his eyes, so I only looked down at the desk.
He said softly, “Are you unworthy, Sarah?”
“I.…” I swallowed. “I’m not…a leader.”
A hint of sternness entered the King’s expression for the first time. “That is not true. I might have lost my son last night if it were not for your leadership.”
“He wouldn’t have been in danger at all if I hadn’t made him stay!” I cried.
“If you hadn’t stayed, would you ever have discovered this hold? Would you ever have discovered your birthright? Who you are? Who you could become? You were meant to stay, Sarah. Remember that the Tree asked it of you, but you felt it first. You are the reason Koriben and his wings are alive. You are the reason they are where you are now. You will be the reason they restore a gate to Earth and renew the Covenants to save both our peoples. You have led and will lead them to do this. You are already their compass…if not their leader.”
I shook my head helplessly. Ridiculously, I was fighting tears again. No doubt proof that I wasn’t made of the iron stuff needed for a leader.… Right?
“A leader is not always the person flying at the front, receiving all the glory, my dear,” the King said more gently. “We need very few of those. What we need far more dearly are good people with brave hearts who see what must be done to help the ones they love, and who do it. Perhaps you may never be the former. But you are already the latter. And I am already so very, very proud of you.”
There went the tears, spilling down my cheeks. I was too overwhelmed to even thank him.
He didn’t appear to need thanks, however. He only inclined his head and gazed at me with lips pulled into a smile and eyes glowing with a look of pure fatherly tenderness. “You can have no idea how much I wish to embrace you.”
His smile died. His voice lowered, so quiet he almost seemed to be speaking to himself. “And how difficult it is to know I may never get that chance.”
“This isn’t goodbye,” I burst out. “Not forever, I mean.”
It wouldn’t—couldn’t—be. Even if I hadn’t already promised Svyer I’d see her again, the thought of never coming back to see him in person was unacceptable.
His smile returned, but it had lost its full strength. “I’m relieved to hear it. I think there is more we need to discuss, so…Flame willing, we will speak again, Sarah.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “And…thank you. For everything. I don’t know what to do with most of it yet, but I promise I’ll think about it.”
“Do, please. And if I could ask a great favor, promise me one more thing, if you would.”
“Anything,” I said. And without alarm, I realized I meant it.
He smiled briefly before sobering.
“It is regarding the shadows I mentioned. The shadow Koriben is most fixated on is not, in fact, the most important, but I cannot convince him of that. Promise me you will keep the renewal of the Covenants and yours and Ben’s safety as your greatest priorities. The Covenants are the goal, and you both are the keys. Without you both doing what only you two can, all will fall to shadow. Do not let Ben forget that or pull you astray. Promise me, please.”
My heart thudded more quickly for a moment, but I nodded. “I promise.”