Nyssa's eyebrow arches delicately. “Uprising? Nothing so dramatic has reached my ears. Though whispers of discontent have always circulated through Draethys.”
“The palace keeps you uninformed?” I press.
“I’m but a servant in this palace and merely a Tier 4 apprentice at the Bellatorium,” Nyssa says.
“The what?”
“The Bellatorium. It’s where we train our military.” Her lips curve into the faintest smile at my expression.
My jaw practically drops. “You have a military academy in Draethys?”
“Of course. Given what our people have endured, simply uprooting and moving our entire civilization underground was not enough. A military is necessary.”
I take another five seconds to process that. “How many tiers are there?”
“Five. I’m in my second year and in no way privy to any matters of the state.”
“I see… You said there’s always been dissent in Draethys, though.”
She nods once, moving around me to make sure everything is perfect. I do appreciate her attention to detail, but I’m doubtful she could ever be of actual use to me in my own mission later down the line. She seems far too loyal to Draethys.
“Yes,” she replies. “The elders built Draethys as a temporary haven. They always planned to return to the surface, provided we survived our extinction. But as the years went by, as new dragons were born, as new towers were erected, as the city expanded… I suppose it became the stuff of folklore. No longer an intention.”
“Returning to the surface,” I clarify.
“We’re used to our lives here. There is peace. Our military is prepared for almost any potential invader, but we’ve kept a low profile for so long, I doubt there are any threats for us to worry about.”
“The world above has no idea that dragons still exist, for what it’s worth.”
I don’t bother to tell her that we’d probably devote all of our resources to keeping them buried underground once my people find out. No point losing potential support from Nyssa, no matter how unlikely, this early on.
“There’s always been an unspoken desire to return to the world above,” she admits with a furrowed brow. “To have the skies to ourselves, to fly as far as the eyes can see. To not be restrained bythe stone ceiling of our kingdom. Someday, we might do it. But the laws of Draethys are strict. The focus is on building our military, strengthening our people, preserving our species.”
“How many of you are here right now?”
“A couple hundred thousand,” she says.
A chill snakes down my spine. Dayn in his dragon form was enough to partially destroy Heathborne and render our coven’s spirit fleet inoperable. I don’t want to think about what two hundred thousand angry dragons might accomplish.Of course, he’d had my blood running through him, which seemed to somehow strengthen him… but still.
I can’t dig too much into the topic now. Not yet.
“Tell me more about your home,” I say to Nyssa, offering a smile for compliance. “I’ll be Dayn’s guest at this fancy feast of theirs. I might as well know more about the dragons and their laws.”
“I’m glad you ask!”
Of course she’s glad. I brace myself and listen to the many irrelevant bits and pieces that I’m supposed to remember by the time I reach the ballroom downstairs, while trying to parse anyusefulinformation. Nyssa keeps most of it functional: curtsies, salutations, table etiquette, dancing steps—the basics to stop me from embarrassing myself or her precious future king of Draethys.
At one point Nyssa remarks, “Lord Daynthazar was extraordinarily popular among the dragon-ladies. Some still hope to win his hand. Lady Raelle of House Rogon among them. She certainly chased him. But Lord Daynthazar was always too fixated on returning aboveground to grant her deepest wish.”
“I see. Good for him, following his passion,” I mutter dryly.
“For what it’s worth, he means well.”
“Intentions don’t sweeten abduction.”
Nyssa takes a step back, hands on her hips as her lips curl into a sardonic smile. “You’ve got a quip for everything, haven’t you?”
“It’s my way of making new friends,” I reply darkly.
