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Isavelle sees me hurrying toward her, and the scent of her terror and fury hits me like a wave. “Whoever is in charge here has gone out of their way to frighten the refugees. Why are the soldiers doing nothing instead of opening these gates?”
The guards glance nervously at me, the person who is in charge here, though Isavelle doesn’t know it. I’d rather she has a little more time to get used to me and this place before she finds that out.
“I assure you that we’re doing everything we can to aid the refugees. I will open the gates if that’s what you desire, but I worry that people will get hurt if they run in a blind panic. What’s making them so afraid?”
Isavelle gazes distractedly at the weeping women and girls. “The dragons, of course. Dragons attacked the monastery, and now they’re flying over us, roaring and spewing flames as if they mean to attack again.”
I glance up at the skies, feeling stupid for not realizing why they’re so afraid. There is just one dragon left in the sky now, gray with a violet iridescent sheen. Damla, with her rider Tish on her back. She flies upward, then tumbles into a dive before spreading her wings and heading for the bluff. To me and my fellow Maledinni, it’s a sight that stirs our hearts and gives us hope.
Behind Isavelle, the Veiled Virgins whimper and cry.
“They’re not attacking. The dragons are returning home from battle to the dragongrounds.”
“Must they fly around and around the castle, diving and swooping and terrifying everyone? Is it necessary to breathe fire until everyone is screaming and crying?”
I hesitate. It’s not necessary, but it is their custom. As the Flame King, anything that curtails a dragon and rider exercising their freedom feels like an outrage but looking at Isavelle and the women cowering behind her, it’s clear that harm is being caused.
“I know the dragonmaster,” I tell her. “I’ll speak to him about the dragons approaching from the northeast instead of over the castle and ask them not to display their victory when they’re returning from battle. For a time. Just until everyone becomes used to their presence.”
The anguish fades from Isavelle’s face, as she says in a quieter tone, “You can just order that?”
Of course I can. I’m the Flame King, but I say vaguely, “I will suggest it to him.”
“Will he listen to you, this dragonmaster?”
My mouth twitches at the idea of any of my soldiers disobeying a direct order from me. Even Stesha. “I have earned enough goodwill to be granted this request. Besides, the dragonmaster is an old friend of mine.”
I doubt Stesha would call me a friend, but I’ve known him all my life and he understands duty and respects the royal line.
Isavelle’s expression softens from anger into relief. “Thank you, Zabriel. These poor women are terrified, and I worry that some villagers won’t approach the capital if they see dragons flying overhead. There’s been no one arriving from the southwest. No one at all.”
I step closer to her and murmur, “You will find your family, Isavelle. All the people of Maledin will soon return to their homes and life will be peaceful once more.”
Isavelle brushes stray hairs out of her eyes, pretending she’s not swiping away tears that have gathered on her lashes. “I hope so.”
“Is there anything else?”
She looks up at me in surprise. “Pardon?”
“What else can be done to reassure the refugees that they’re safe while they remain here?” It’s important that the refugees take good memories of Lenhale and their new king home to their villages.
Isavelle glances around. “I don’t know. I’ve mainly been seeing to it that there are enough blankets and food. Maybe there’s someone who can report to you or one of the other Maledinni about the refugees’ needs.”
“Why don’t you do it?” I suggest. Who better than Isavelle, who will one day rule Maledin alongside me? She understands the villagers, and it’s clear that my people don’t.
Isavelle gapes up at me. “Me? I can’t do that.”
I smile at her. “Why not? You’re already doing it, and you’re good at it.”
Isavelle’s scent is filled with doubt. She hasn’t realized how important she’s been for the refugees these past few days. I’ve seen how people are less lost and afraid after she’s talked to them. She moves among them with ease, dispensing hope as well as blankets and food. Even now, the women behind Isavelle are calming down as they see how Isavelle isn’t afraid anymore.
“Can I think about it?” she asks.
“Of course,sha’len. In the meantime, I will speak with the dragonmaster.” I want to kiss a tress of her hair, but instead, I kiss my fingers in farewell while gazing into her eyes. Isavelle watches me do it, staring at my mouth, her gaze a little out of focus.
I could swear she just felt that on her lips.
I walk up the cobbled road and head around the castle, taking the opportunity to look down into the walled city below. Parts look deserted, and no smoke rises from the chimneys. Here and there in squares, I see that some people are gathered, but they huddle close to the walls and look fearfully up at the skies. An utterly wretched sight to behold for the future King of Maledin.
