“If you’d prefer to wait until she arrives …”
“You said you don’t know when that will be.”
He nodded.
“And I only have a week to learn the Song Mage’s music.”
“Correct.”
“Which means I don’t really have a choice, do I? If I want to learn the songs, I need to get started as soon as possible. And if you’re the only one willing to help me …”
It has to be you.
“I suggest we begin at dawn tomorrow,” he said, sensing her defeat. “I’ll tell your attendants to take you to the conservatory first thing in the morning.”
Hawthorne turned away from her then, signaling the end of the conversation, and returned to the girl across from him, who Emeline heard him refer to as Aspen. The girl smiled sweetly as they resumed their chat.
Could this day get any worse?
Someone farther down the table cleared their throat. “Tell us, singer. How did you vanquish him?”
Emeline looked up to find most guests at the table setting down their silverware and leaning in. As if they’d all been waiting for this.
The question came from a freckled young man whose large brown eyes reminded her of a fawn. His shaggy hair framed his pale face, shining like copper. “No one has ever come back from the dragon’s aerie. But here you are.”
No one?She stole a pointed glance at Hawthorne.
“It’s true,” said a girl with foxlike features and hair as white as frost. “The king has made several attempts to retrieve the music. The men and women he sent never returned.”
“Oh, I didn’tvanquishClaw.”
“Then how are you sitting before us? Hawthorne says you successfully retrieved the music.”
They all murmured their assent, staring at Emeline as if she were a goddess who’d waltzed straight out of a Greek myth.Like golden Artemis striding out of the woods after a successful hunt, a prize deer slung over her shoulders.
She shook her head. “I only sang to him.”
Puzzled silence filled the table. Emeline felt the sudden weight of Hawthorne’s stare. She didn’t meet it.
“I … sang him to sleep, I mean.”
It sounded absurd to her now, as gazes met over goblets and plates of food.They think I’m making it up.
Except no. They didn’t.
The freckled young man raised his glass. “To Emeline Lark,” he said softly. “Conqueror of dragons.”
One by one, the rest of the table raised their glasses, echoing his toast. Reverently whispering her name like she was some kind of hero. Heat crept into her cheeks. She tipped her face to her empty gold-rimmed plate. “I didn’t …” But no one was listening. They were all chattering excitedly in the wake of her story. Emeline could already hear them embellishing the details.
“Don’t mind them, dearie,” chimed a singsong voice across from Emeline, cutting through the noise around her. “It’s been years since they’ve had good news.”
Emeline looked up and found an owlish face peering straight into hers. Tawny hair curled in short ringlets around the girl’s head, and her amber eyes were a little too big for the rest of her dainty features. “I’m Nettle.”
“Lovely to meet you, Nettle.”
“Are you enjoying your stay?”
Emeline blinked, not sure how to answer.Yes,she thought, sipping her drink.It’s so fun being imprisoned by a creepy king, nearly eaten by a crusty old dragon, and utterly cut off from everything I love.
