Dara turned to her husband. “Are you all right, Siv?”
“As safe as a Soolen bullshell with you around,” said the king, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “Almost added to my scar collection, though.”
Dara frowned at Tamri. “That was very close.”
Tamri shivered at the razor focus in the queen’s eyes. She felt as if the woman could see straight through her, all the way to the oath bond on her neck and the mission that had brought her to this mountain. They were going to find out. They were going to kill her. Tamri quaked with fear, with the urge to flee, but she didn’t dare look away.
The room became so quiet she could hear Heath’s heartbeat behind her. The moment balanced on a knife-edge.
Suddenly there was a squawk, and a winged shape soared down from the spectators’ balcony above the door. Tamri jolted in surprise, breaking eye contact with the queen at last.
Everyone turned toward the newcomer, their movements exaggerated as if they’d just been released from a spell. It was a small dragon, featherless like Mav, with scales of dark green and leathery black wings.
The little dragon flew once around the dueling hall then landed beside the king in a clatter of talons. It sniffed at his boots then rose on muscular hind legs to rub its nose on his face, leathery wings rippling.
“Late to the party, as always, Rumy,” the king said, scratching the little dragon as if it were a dog. A very scaly dog. “I’m fine. It’s hardly the first time Dara has saved my life while you were snoozing.”
The dragon gave an affronted snort and dropped onto all fours. It turned its back on the king and trundled over to where Heath still held Tamri prisoner, both elbows pulled back, one of her heels still pressing down on his toe.
Ignoring their awkward position, the dragon began picking at Heath’s coat pocket and chattering animatedly.
“Oh, uh, hello, Rumy. It’s good to see you too.” Heath shifted his hold on Tamri to pull a lumpy treat from his coat pocket. “There you go.”
The little dragon gave a delighted chirp and began chomping happily on the treat.
Siv laughed. “Rumy knows who his true friends are.”
Heath gave an embarrassed shrug. “Cur-dragons are fickle.”
While he was distracted, Tamri considered digging her nails into the cut on his arm to get him to release her, but she doubted that would win her any friends here. Besides, the arrival of the little dragon had cut the tension her accidental outburst had caused.
The queen was studying her thoughtfully, but her eyes no longer held that blade-sharp focus. “At least we know you can Wield the Fire, Tamri.”
“I can?”
“The Fire responded to you, though I doubt you realized what you were doing in the moment. You’re very fast.”
Tamri hardly dared to hope she might salvage the situation. Her palm still smarted from the Fire, but maybe she could get past that little obstacle. She’d accept any discomfort if it meant Gramma Teall would be well cared for, even by Khrillin.
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she said, striving for a meek tone. “I have nothing against Vertigon or the king.”
“No hard feelings on my part,” King Siv said. “Your call, my love.”
Dara deliberated for a moment. “I believe you meant no harm. However, you must control impulses like that if you are to study with me. I won’t have you hurting yourself or the other students with such wild actions.”
Other students? Did that mean she was in?
“I’ll be careful,” Tamri said. “I want to learn.” And it was true. She wanted to learn how to Wield as quickly as the Fire Queen had when she stopped that spray of Fire. She wanted to learn enough to give off an aura of power and authority, too, maybe even enough to face off with Khrillin herself one day.
“Wanting it isn’t enough,” Dara said. “I expect discipline from my students. The others of your age and strength have had three years to get used to that. You will start at a disadvantage, but you must not rush your training. Discipline. Control. Focus. That is what I require.”
Tamri straightened her back as much as she could with Heath still holding her arm and met the queen’s eyes. She would focus. She would learn. No matter how much the Fire hurt, she would prove that she was capable of so much more than she had demonstrated today.
This was for Gramma Teall. For their freedom. For herself.
“I’ll do it.”
13
Queen Dara asked Heath to escort Tamri to the Wielder school a short walk from the castle.
“I’ll let Corren, the schoolmaster, know you’re coming,” she said. “Good luck, Tamri. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
Tamri bobbed her head, not sure whether she was supposed to curtsy. She could hardly believe that after flinging beads of fiery magic at the king, she would still have a chance to learn from this woman. And spy on her. Tamri couldn’t forget that.
She rubbed her palm surreptitiously, hoping the pain the Fire had caused had been some sort of fluke.
The queen strode over to the weapon rack by the wall to remove her dueling jacket and buckle on a fine sword with a jet-black hilt. The little green-and-black dragon scurried over to perch beside her, chittering softly.
King Siv walked Tamri and Heath to the door of the dueling hall.
“We’ll have that drink and discuss Pendark later, Heath,” he said. “I won’t invite Rumy, though. He’ll get fat again now that you’re back on the mountain.”
Heath bowed deeply, still looking embarrassed despite the king’s friendly tone. “Sire, I’d like to apologize again for—”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” The king clapped Heath on the shoulder. “We’ll talk soon.”
Heath didn’t speak to Tamri as he escorted her out of the castle by the arm. He only released her after they passed Captain Jale at the doors, and then he rested his hand on his Fire cudgel instead. Tamri sighed. He acted as suspicious of her now as he had in Khrillin’s audience chamber, as if all the progress they’d made on their journey had evaporated. She wasn’t sure why that bothered her.
They crossed the courtyard with the burned stump and the ring of young trees and left the castle grounds on foot, descending a stone staircase, which felt much steeper than it had looked from the air. When they reached the city proper, the road wound down the mountainside in broad switchbacks, sometimes giving way to more staircases. From certain vantage points, they could see Orchard Gorge and the bridges leading to Village Peak in the distance. Many of the fine houses near the castle were under construction, more evidence of the catastrophic attack on Vertigon. Thin wooden scaffolding outlined the walls, and the sounds of hammers and chisels echoed among them.
Plenty of people were about at this late-morning hour, though Vertigon was quiet compared to the busy port city that was Pendark. Few of the passersby were foreigners, but the Vertigonians paid no attention to the scrappy Pendarkan girl being escorted through their fine streets by a tall, stern dragon rider.
Every once in a while, a leather-winged dragon swooped overhead, chattering and squawking. Most of the creatures were even smaller than Rumy. Tamri missed a step when she saw one carrying a brightly wrapped bundle in its talons.