“A dragon cannot burn.”
“It can if it’s dead.” Camilla reached for Sigrid’s hand, squeezing it tightly between her own. “I share your worry for him, but we are not just Beastkin anymore. We have a kingdom, people, and a responsibility to keep them safe. That is why he is risking his life, and that is why I cannot let you do the same.”
Sigrid stared into Camilla’s dark eyes and wished for a different life so violently it made her flinch. She didn’t want to be the queen of the Beastkin. She didn’t want to be anyone but Sigrid for once in her life.
Still, her sister was right.
Nodding, Sigrid looked back to Hallmar. “Fine. Go, and let us know when you return. I’d like a full report on Bymere. It’s best to know our enemies well before we are attacked.”
He shrugged. “I think you have more information in that regard than I do. Living amongst them will help, but having Bymerians under your care… You and your people are significantly more prepared than we are.”
And the Beastkin wouldn’t even assist in protecting those who had protected them for so long. The truth stung, but Sigrid knew she wasn’t wrong.
“I will try,” she whispered. “But I cannot promise we will help.”
“That is all I can ask of you.”
Their conversation complete, Sigrid hesitated for a brief moment. She almost wanted to stay for a little while longer. The promise of warmth and civilized conversation was more tempting than returning to the madness of the Beastkin home.
And yet, she knew she couldn’t stay. This was a gilded cage for her people; no matter how much the king had enjoyed their company. She must leave and do something more than revert back to the old ways that, although broken, had been comfortable to her.
She stood and nodded gracefully. “Until I see you again.”
“I hope we do, dragoness.”
It felt too final, this meeting of theirs. She didn’t want it to be the last they had together, but had a feeling he thought it was. That was why he brought her here.
Of all times, she didn’t want to lose him just yet.
Blowing out a breath, Sigrid nodded and left his private quarters. Camilla’s footsteps trailed behind her, but she barely registered that her friend was following her.
Mind whirling, she raced through the halls of her childhood. Her pace was quick, but still respectable if anyone was to see her as she walked by them. They would say she looked like a woman on a mission. That the determination showed in the set of her shoulders and the cold gaze of her mask.
They wouldn’t see her expression of heartbreak and sadness. They wouldn’t understand her fingers were curled in fists, because she was barely holding herself together. Not that she was an honorable leader who was carefully keeping herself in check.
People scattered as she entered the courtyard. A woman grabbed her son’s arm and pointed at Sigrid while saying, “Watch, my love.”
They were making her a spectacle.
Again.
Camilla touched a hand to Sigrid’s shoulder and muttered, “Are you all right?”
No. She felt as though something in her soul had broken, and she didn’t know how to deal with these emotions. She wanted to scream and shout, to break something like a child in a temper tantrum. And then she wanted to run back into the castle and throw herself into Hallmar’s arms.
She wasn’t a little girl anymore. The only man who had been a father figure to her was about to risk his life with the man she loved.
One of them would likely end up dead. And her mind didn’t know which one she wanted to see come out of the bloodbath.
“We leave now,” she growled and changed so violently that Camilla was thrown to the ground.
Her sister scrambled back to her feet, reached out for the spines along Sigrid’s back, and threw herself onto the dragon right before she suddenly lifted into the air. Gusts from her wings made people run screaming, but she didn’t care if they were afraid of her. They should be. Wasn’t that what they wanted?
A monster who they could tell their children to be afraid of. A figurehead for how bad all the Beastkin were. A shield for her own people to hide behind.
She was overwhelmed. Wildly tossed against the rocks of her own mind until all she could think was that she wanted a few moments to herself. A few moments when her mind wasn’t screaming and she could finally think.
The journey home was quick and silent. Camilla left her to herself, though she knew Sigrid could hear her words. They landed in the middle of the keep which was falling apart already, and Sigrid felt her blood begin to boil again.
Too many of her people lay about doing nothing, while there was a war to plan.
Before Camilla had even slipped from her neck, Sigrid had changed. She pressed her fist into the ground, crouched before the inhabitants of the unnamed keep, and stilled her tongue.
Say nothing, she told herself. There would be a time to speak, a time to yell and scold, but not when she wanted to fly at them in a rage.
The crack of clapping struck her ears. She told herself not to flinch, but couldn't stop the violent curling of her fingers into the mud.
“A mask again?” Jabbar asked, his voice slithering through the keep. “I thought we’d gotten rid of those a long time ago.”
“I visited the Earthen King,” she replied. “They expect certain levels of decorum we no longer acknowledge here.”
“Then shouldn’t they be using our customs? Are we not the superior race?”
She gritted her teeth. “I will not have this argument with you now, Jabbar. Call the council members. There is much for us to talk about.”
“Oh, I’m sure your meeting was very enlightening.” He stooped down in front of her, one knee on the ground. “I don’t think he’d have anything interesting enough to tell us honestly. Feel free to call the council, but I don’t want to hear any more of his poisonous words.”
“Hallmar, Earthen King, is a good man.”
“How can you say that when he kept your people in cages?”
Don’t, a voice whispered in her head. Don’t encourage him. But she couldn’t stop the words that fell from her lips. “They kept us in castles, with our own quarters and a respect for the old ways. Yes, we were not normal citizens, but we were not mistreated.”
“Many of your fellow sisters would disagree with you.”
“Their minds are clouded by anger instigated by you.”
She looked up at him then, feeling her eyes heat until she was certain it was a dragon staring back at him. To his credit, he didn’t flinch. But Jabbar had never been afraid of her. A thunderbird at heart, he was one of the few who could likely put up a fight with her.
He met her anger with heat of his own, grinning as he stared back at her. “Why, little dragoness, do you want to fight me?”
“I am not an animal.”
“On the contrary. You’re as much an animal as the rest of us, and the sooner you accept that, the better.”
“I am not.”
He reached forward, pressed a single finger against her shoulder, and held it there. “You are worse than any of the others. A dragon should be free. Instead, you dishonor us all by denying who you are.”
“I have never denied my lineage.”
“Perhaps not your lineage, but you have denied the creature inside you. You still hold yourself separate, as if you are somehow better than the rest of us who are both man and animal. Now, let me tell you, Sigrid. You’re not better. Your Earthen King is weak, and that is why you still cling to him like a child.” His eyes shifted, yellowing and cracking with electricity. “Because you are weak.”