To them, it didn’t matter that she is an eight-year-old child. Their duty is to protect the emperor, and any intruder is a threat to his safety.
I forgot myself completely. I have lived my whole life among humans, except for visits to the Sanctuary, but when crisis threatened I allowed instinct to defeat fifteen years of experience. I immediately spread my wings to defend Audrey. But the guards in Ongnan are not used to our people, and my reaction frightened two of them so that they lifted their rifles and aimed them at me. Teslit flung herself between us, calling out that they should not be alarmed, and then from behind me came a splash as Audrey jumped back into the pond for safety.
The third guard, who was their captain, shoved one of the rifles toward the ground, shouting at his soldiers to lower their arms. The one whose rifle he touched pulled the trigger in surprise. He fired into the dirt, so no one was harmed—but the sound of a gunshot brought all the other guards running.
If I had kept my wings folded, none of this might have happened. But I lost control, and I didn’t manage to resolve the situation before we had nearly two dozen soldiers in the garden, along with the emperor himself.
He came outside once it was clear there was no threat. Yelangese protocol said I should kneel to him, and I would have . . . except that as Teslit moved to kneel at my side, she collapsed.
It was the sudden panic of the scene that weakened her. It made her heart race, and the strain was too much. She is resting now, and the physicians say she will be well in a day or two, but I put my sister in a dangerous situation—a situation I made dangerous, by my own failures. I disturbed the emperor, disrupted the whole palace, and left Lady Trent’s granddaughter sitting in a fishpond.
I am a failure as a diplomat. Perhaps thirty years from now I will be capable, but at fifteen I am a disgrace. Teslit has tried to reassure me; she says I can only learn by experience, not by hiding, and that things like this happen when Camhersts are around. But I cannot forgive myself for hurting my sister, nor for disgracing the Sanctuary with my incompetence. I will accept any punishment the elders choose to lay upon me. I am not fit to represent our people in human company.
May the earth reject me if I have attempted to hide my errors. May the sun judge me as I deserve.
Kudshayn, son of Ahheke, daughter of Iztam
PRESENT DAY
FROM THE NOTEBOOK OF CORA FITZARTHUR
Wings cupped around body This is a sign of respect, like bowing or curtsying for humans. But it is less frequent among Draconeans who spend a lot of time around humans, because they don’t want to hit anything with their wings in the process of wrapping them, and we tend to have a lot more breakable possessions very closely packed—at least rich Scirlings and Yelangese do. Because of this, it’s becoming more common for them to cross their arms over their chests, which is how humans imitate the act of cupping the wings. So we’re learning their body language, and then they learn it again from us. That seems very odd.
Wings cupped around each other
Like a hug. Kudshayn says it is very comforting, and a thing family do for each other; when non-family do it, that’s very intimate. But not sexually intimate, I think, and then he was shocked that I said such a thing. Audrey wasn’t, though; she just laughed and said I was correct.
Wings tucked tightly against back
A sign of discomfort, usually in situations that are emotionally uncomfortable rather than physically. Audrey said she assumed this is because they want to protect their wings (which are relatively fragile) against things that might damage them, but Kudshayn said it’s childish body language; their wings don’t really begin to stretch out and grow strong until they’re older. He also thinks it might be an instinct from their time in the shell, where they are safe and also crammed into a very small space, though no Draconean he has ever spoken to remembers being in the shell, so he’s really just guessing. I think it is like humans going into the fetal position.
Wings spread
Very much like a cat puffing up its fur. This makes the Draconean look bigger and more threatening, so it’s used as a signal of anger or in the face of danger. They will also do this as the equivalent of two humans having a staring contest; I didn’t quite follow the explanation, but it has to do with blood flow to their wings and the fact that most Draconeans live in very cold mountains, so by spreading their wings they’re risking hypothermia, and the first one to furl them has done the equivalent of blinking. I asked Kudshayn what they will do for their staring contests if they ever start living in warmer parts of the world, and he doesn’t know. They definitely can’t make a habit of it indoors; Draconean wings are much smaller proportional to their bodies than most dragons’ (the ones who can fly, anyway; Draconeans can only glide), but they would still smash quite a lot of things in our houses if they extended them fully.
Wings drooping
Like a sigh. Audrey warned me that it’s often a very subtle movement, but so are a lot of sighs.
Wings rattling
A kind of silent laugh. They don’t really rattle, of course, because they aren’t made of metal or anything hard, but that’s the word both Audrey and Kudshayn use for it. He demonstrated for me and the sound is more like a leathery flutter, but since they both say “rattle,” I’ll go on using that word, even though it isn’t really accurate.
So much of their body language is about wings. That makes sense. Their faces are less expressive than ours are, but we don’t have wings to signal with, so it balances out in the end. Audrey taught me some other gestures, too, though.
Nostrils flaring
All Draconeans can control this, much better than most humans can (though there are some humans who can control it very well). For them it’s like raising our eyebrows is for us. Audrey says that her grandmother, Lady Trent, thinks this is because they have a better sense of smell than we do, and so they have a biological instinct to flare their nostrils and breathe deeply as a way of investigating things, which means they also do it as a way of signaling curiosity. Draconean settlements must be much cleaner than our cities, or they would find being curious there very unpleasant.
Holding the muzzle shut
Equivalent to putting a finger on your lips; it means to hush. Draconeans also do this to each other, much more often than we put our fingers on other people’s lips. Apparently Draconean nannies have to do it a lot to teach their charges to be quiet. (Their nannies are male! Only about twenty percent of Draconeans are male—I knew that before Audrey told me—and so they watch over the creches where hatchlings are raised.)
Hand reaching high
Like a human putting their hand on their heart to show sincerity. I read in one of Uncle’s books that Draconeans worship the sun, which the book says is terrible idolatry and a sign of why the Anevrai (the ancient Draconeans) deserved to be overthrown, but I don’t see that it makes much difference. And now I know why Audrey says so many things about the sun. Between that and the references to ships and sea things, I should write up notes on what she really means when she talks, because many of the things she says make no sense. This is probably because she had what Uncle calls a deplorable upbringing.
I’m sure there are more, but Audrey and Kudshayn both admitted they have a hard time thinking about these things, because they just take it so much for granted. I wonder if I could get enough to fill a book? Probably not, but I could also learn the rules of Draconean etiquette to make it longer.