It was an act of faith and gratitude.
In the years since, that heroic boy had grown into a powerful young man. At twenty-one, Jarek now held the army in his fist. His soldats were completely loyal.Too loyal,thought Asha. Once he married her, Jarek would be in very close proximity to the throne. A throne that would be very easy to take by force. It worried Asha.
“He mustn’t know about this conversation. Do you understand?”
Asha, who was lost in her thoughts, looked up to find them standing before a tapestry of her grandmother—the dragon queen who conquered and enslaved their fiercest enemy, the skral. The artist chose deep reds and maroons for the background and luminescent silvers and dark blues for her hair. The dragon queen’s eyes seemed to peer out at her granddaughterwith deep disapproval. As if they could see straight into Asha’s heart, beholding all the secrets hidden there.
Asha held her injured hand closer to her body.
“You mustn’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”
Tearing her gaze away from the old queen, she looked to her father. His warm eyes were on hers.
A secret?Her every allegiance was to her father. She owed her life to him twice over. “Of course, Father.”
“A dragon was spotted in the Rift while you hunted,” he said. “One that hasn’t been seen in eight years. A black dragon with a scar through one eye.”
Lightning flickered up Asha’s legs. She nearly reached for the wall, in case they gave out on her.
“Kozu?”
It couldn’t be. The First Dragon hadn’t been seen since the day he attacked the city.
Her father nodded. “This is an opportunity, Asha. One we must seize.” He smiled a slow, bright smile. “I want you to bring me Kozu’s head.”
Asha suddenly smelled burning flesh. Felt her throat choking on screams.
That was eight years ago,she thought, trying to fight off the memory.Eight years ago I was a child. I’m not anymore.
Seeing the war waging inside her, the dragon king raised his hand, as if to touch her—something he never did. But a look flashed in his eyes. The same look that flashed in everyone else’s eyes, all of the time, whenever they looked at her.
Her father didn’t like to show it, because he loved her.Because he didn’t want to hurt her. But sometimes it slipped through the cracks.
The dragon king feared his own daughter.
A heartbeat later, the look was gone. Her father’s hand fell back down to his side, resting on the gilt pommel of his ceremonial saber.
“If you can hunt down the First Dragon, the religious zealots will no longer have a reason to challenge my authority. The scrublanders will be forced to concede that the old ways are no longer. All will submit to my rule. But, most of all, Asha, your marriage to Jarek will no longer be necessary.” He looked back to the tapestry on the wall. To the image of his mother. “Thiswill be your redemption.”
Asha swallowed, letting those words sink in.
The raconteurs—sacred storytellers from days gone by—warned of the death of Kozu. Kozu, they said, was the wellspring of stories. As such, he was the Old One’s living link to his people.
If Kozu were ever killed, all the old stories would be struck from mind or tongue or scroll—as if they’d never existed. The Old One would be forgotten and the link between him and his people broken. But so long as Kozu lived, the stories did too, and the yoke keeping Asha’s people shackled to the Old One remained.
Even the most godless of hunters wouldn’t dare hunt Kozu down. Her father knew this. It was why he was askingher. Asha had more reason than anyone to kill the First Dragon.
It would be the ultimate apology. A way to set things right.
“Did you hear me, Asha? If you bring me Kozu’s head, there will no longer be a reason to marry Jarek.”
Drawn out of her thoughts, she looked up into her father’s face to find him smiling down on her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Asha. Will you do it?”
Of course she would do it. The only question was: Could she do it before the red moon waned?
The Last Namsara
