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The healers were inadequate, making excuses that her injuries were too extensive and greivous for her to get up and move around on her own. They also claimed she needed to waste several more days lying in bed and doing nothing at all. And these were supposed to be the best in all the Imperial City? Pathetic. It was the only time she wished she were surrounded by those more adept in magic.
Damn them. She had expected to be back on her feet already. Experienced healers, her ass. Two more days! Two, even with her constitution, they said, and she was going to have to continue relying on others to care for Netra. Whoever was responsible for the task had not revealed themselves, nor had they brought the dragon to her. But she couldn’t be surprised. Netra was probably terrorizing them according to her ways and would scarcely tolerate being toted around by strangers. All the more reason that she needed these healers to do their job. But on the sixth morning aft
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Every part of Anzi’s body still ached, but she had no regrets about remaining firmly grounded in her own body last night. After Kai told her that it was her doing and not his, she made sure to remain especially vigilant so she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Her? Wanting to see him? If that was what he thought, then she was only too happy to prove him wrong. From now on, she would stay well away and deal with this on her own. If things became so dire that she needed his help, or that of his strange distance-healing magic, at least, she would consider compromising—but as it was, it would be suspicious if she recovered too quickly. Especially since she now knew the Emperor had instructed the physicians to delay her recovery. She could never let him discover the extent of Kai’s magic. If she were ever forced to ally with him against the Emperor, she needed his advantages to remain a surprise. Tet was strong, stronger than she was. She needed every ad
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She had talked. When was anyone going to tell Anzi that not only did dragons speak, but they could also barge into someone’s mind to do so? She had thought before that a rider and their dragon must be able to communicate, but she hadn’t dwelled on it ever since learning the Premier enslaved dragons rather than truly bonding with them. Speech! Real speech! Bastien had said nothing about this. Or maybe it was just Netra who was special? She was more clever than full-grown humans by half even though she was still so small. That must be it. Or maybe it was something else entirely. What was it the Emperor had asked her about the wyrm, again…? Whether she had communicated with it. Her heart fluttered as she stared up at the ceiling with the hatchling splayed out next to her, not quite touching but close enough that she could feel each breath Netra took. She’d spoken. She’d spoken in her mind, clearly, unmistakabl
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Netra remained sound asleep as Anzi carried her in her arms down to the palace courtyard. A fortunate thing, since she typically screeched at disturbances that dared wake her from her post-gorge slumber. And doubly lucky since Anzi had yet to find a way to keep Netra from speaking. Better for her to sleep and remain silent while Bisset was around. The man was waiting for her on top of his dragon when she arrived. As she crossed over the grass, the enormous creature extended her wing and blanketed the ground with a rumbling, leathery sound. The clacking of heavy scales made Anzi’s hair stand on end, and although she never slowed her stride, her gaze fell away from the colonel’s stern face to land on the dragon’s head. What a truly massive leviathan. Her twenty-meter body lay flat on the grass, but the relaxed stance did nothing to make the dragoness look any smaller. The dark blue, white-rimmed scales were each larger than her hand, an
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Before departing, Anzi had changed into lightweight desert garb in anticipation of boiling heat, but the sunlight that streamed down over her was more comforting than hot. It had been a long time since she had last trekked this far into the desert, although this wasn’t anywhere near the true deep sands at all. They’d gone no more than twenty kilometers, roughly, and the stallion was still trotting comfortably over the dunes with no signs of tiring. Large, fanned ears flicked this way and that, and over Anzi’s head, the creature’s long, tufted tail did the same, providing both of them shade. Captain Gorien had been telling the truth. This stallion was a remarkable specimen. Well-trained, intelligent, strong, and possessing even greater stamina than its kind typically had. Anzi was sure they could go another twenty kilometers before they had to stop for a rest, and that only because of her own limitations, not the sand horse’s. At least
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Anzi lasted all of three more hours before her spite-fired endurance ran out. Searching for dangerous serpents in the Adaraat’s sands with not a hint of a scale or tail was fast becoming torturous. She wanted to go back. Netra would definitely be awake now, and she would be hungry. Anzi had already guessed Bisset wouldn’t lift a finger to feed her and had asked the guard on duty to tend to her instead, but she dreaded to think what the colonel might do if the hatchling irritated him with her insistent screeching in the meantime. Or spoke. She should go back, but she hadn’t decided whether to report the encounter with the old witch crone in her head along with what she had learned from it. Should she? But if she did, that would be one more reason for Bisset and everyone else to keep an even closer eye on her. She didn’t want to attract more attention. She needed to fade. But if she didn’t report the incident, she had no excuse to return to the outpost ea
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Netra was furious for a week. She ate well enough, but every time Anzi reached over to pick debris between her scales or examine her claws for chips, she snapped at her, teeth clacking furiously and head twitching this way and that like an angry bird. There was no soothing the young dragon and even when Anzi and Bisset arrived on the back of the colonel’s dragon outside the city of Lumenera, Netra was still refusing anything but the most necessary of handling. There was no way for Anzi to explain why she had had to leave without warning for the desert expedition. It was one of the few times she wished the hatchling would communicate again despite the risk of alerting the colonel. She and Bisset stood at the front gates of the city before a small retinue of men who had come to receive them, mostly soldiers wearing the colors of Lumeneran scarlet. The elderly man at their head wore military garb as well, making her narrow her eyes in skeptical question. T
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Anzi had the distinct feeling she wasn’t supposed to be here, but she hadn’t been about to reject an explicit invitation from the man who’d just told her that her traveling companion had been personally responsible for the death of his entire family. Colonel Bisset could discipline her later all he liked, but she was not going to look Governor Hosef in the eye and pretend her suffering would be greater than his had been. She couldn’t begin to imagine. She had never been close to her family, partly because she’d left them at a young age and partly because she had fostered that distance herself in her determination to follow what she’d thought was her destined path. But this…She didn’t need to have experienced fellowship in pain to sympathize. And blame. This was the kind of carnage the Empire wrought, the kind that no one spoke about back in the Capital because everyone was taught that the annexed lands all held hands and danced around in a ring together
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“Stop squirming, Netra.” Netra, of course, didn’t listen. With a furious clicking of her talons and a raising of her spines, she fought her way out of Anzi’s grip and leaped to the ground, leaving the soldier rubbing her scraped chin. The dragon immediately trotted off to inspect the market stalls, tail swishing behind her like a cat’s. “Those things need a trim,” Anzi muttered. “And you need to stop eating. Gods, you’re fatter than a palace pet.” She was. It had been adorable at first, and Anzi had been powerless to resist over-feeding her whenever the dragon screeched and wailed for more (what if she really was starving?). But the gluttonous habits were clearly too much. Instead of walking, the reptile wobbled and waddled on her clawed feet, belly hanging down between her legs with an almost comedic curve. But she was longer, too, and stood taller at the shoulders. Anzi had been toting her around in her a
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