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I sigh. All I can do is keep working and hope that life returns to the capital, and everywhere else in Maledin.
I find the dragonmaster at the dragongrounds, a white-haired Alpha in his prime. Stesha is a man of thirty years who has held his high position since before he was my age. All Alphas are proud and stubborn, but Stesha is also hypercritical, cantankerous, and has an evil temper. He has little patience for people, especially other Alphas, but he’s fiercely protective of the dragons, or as he likes to call them, his dragons.
As I approach, I see that he’s wrapping soaked marseng leaves around a young Beta dragon’s injured foreleg. She’s a vivid raspberry-pink color with a creamy underbelly and metallic rosy gold eyes and talons.
“Hold still a little longer. Good girl,” Stesha murmurs soothingly, tucking in the edge of the bandage and checking it’s secure.
The Beta dragon makes a sad little noise in the back of her throat and then nuzzles Stesha’s shoulder with the top of her head, expressing her gratitude to him.
“There’s no need for that. I wasn’t going to let it fester.” He gets to his feet and smooths a hand along the dragon’s neck.
A dozen or so feet away, Stesha’s crystalline white Alpha dragon watches over them with her serene, pale blue eyes half closed. Nilak is the most elegant dragon in the flare, which shouldn’t be possible considering her prodigious size, but she carries her muscle and wingspan with ease. She’s also one of the fiercest dragons and has a quick, snarling temper. Just like her rider.
Nilak draws closer to the Beta dragon and nibbles delicately on her wing bones and around the pink dragon’s crest, while Stesha continues to stroke her neck. It’s a great privilege for a Beta to be fussed over by two Alphas at once, and the pink dragon seems to forget about her injury amid this flattering attention. She closes her eyes and trills happily.
“How are the dragons?” I call as I approach.
Stesha turns, and I see how the gentle look in his eyes hardens as he realizes someone’s intruding on his work. Worse, it’s another Alpha. Stesha has the same coloring as his dragon, his long hair ice-white, and his eyes a frosty blue.
He assumes a relaxed pose, the heel of his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, but his eyes narrow. “Omaira was injured in the attack on the Fliesch Monastery, but she’s doing fine, Zabriel. May I help you with something?”
He’s being scrupulously polite, but since we took the capital, everyone has been calling meMa’len, though I have yet to be crowned. Everyone except Stesha. I wonder if this is forgetfulness on his part or if he’s resisting addressing an Alpha who is younger than him with an honorific. For all Stesha’s life, my father wasMa’len.
I’ll let it go for now and trust that the coronation reminds him who outranks who even though he’s older and just as large and violent as I am.
I open my mouth to tell him why I’m here, but I’m interrupted by a high, thin shriek. Together, we watch as a dragon soars over the city, its rider flying a full revolution and a half around the castle before bringing their mount into land on the far end of the field.
“A wonderful sight,” Stesha says with a thin smile of satisfaction. “After all these years, I never thought I’d see it again.”
“You remember time passing beneath the mountain?”
A line appears between the Alpha’s brows and his gaze turns inward. “I don’t know. So many hundreds of years went by, and it was as if I was lost in a long, disjointed dream.”
“I feel the same way. Asleep, yet conscious that I was trapped.”
Stesha nods. “But we’re free now, and we’ll find out who was responsible and make them suffer. No one will dare thwart the dragonriders of Maledin again.”
I rub my hand over my jaw. “Speaking of the dragons, I need the dragonriders to approach the castle from the northeast instead of over the city, and land right away.”
Stesha frowns. “I don’t understand.”
“No flying displays over the city. No laps of the skies or bursts of fire. It’s upsetting the refugees.”
Stesha’s pale eyes flash with anger, and he grips the hilt of his broadsword. “What are you talking about, Zabriel? For the first time in hundreds of years there are dragons flying over your castle, and you want to put a stop to that? We wouldn’t be standing right here if not for our dragons.”
The dragonriders are all proud and enjoy the spectacle they create. We’ve just fought a war, and we want to prove how fierce we are, and even under normal circumstances, there are plenty of reasons to show off. If a dragonrider is courting someone, their displays are especially noisy and flashy. I’d love to be up there on Scourge showing off to Isavelle, but his roars and plumes of fire would have the opposite effect on my mate right now. Maybe one day she’ll hunt the skies for the sight of Scourge and smile when she realizes we’re coming home to her. Fuck, I hope so.
“I know. But the refugees don’t like seeing the dragons in the skies. It feels like the invasion all over again.”
Stesha stares around the field as if he’s searching for the person who put me up to this terrible joke. “We liberated the refugees from a death cult and gave them back their country. They are Maledinni just like us, and dragons are in their blood. If they’re human, we’re protecting them as well. Dozens, hundreds, thousands of designations will be emerging in the coming months, and the people will finally understand what being Maledinni means. Some will be privileged enough to become dragonriders and wingrunners, and when we fly overhead, they don’tlike it?”
I grit my teeth as Stesha goes on his rant, reminding myself not to interrupt him and his concerns are valid. Countless times I saw my father speak over one of his subjects and dismiss their concerns, and situations he could have easily fixed only grew worse. I didn’t learn a lot about how to rule from my father, but I did learn how not to do it.
“I know it’s frustrating, Stesha, but all these people know right now is that dragons attacked out of nowhere and killed their king. It will take time for them to accept who they really are, but right now, we must take care not to terrify them unnecessarily.”
“I don’t believe they’re scared. Who has been telling you such dragonshit?” Stesha growls.
“I saw their terror for myself, and I spoke to someone who is working with me to help the refugees. We discussed how the dragons can modify their route to the dragongrounds for a little while.”
