Their trip back to the keep was silent. Camilla clearly knew she had said something wrong. Sigrid felt her gaze on her face throughout the short trip, but she didn’t say a word.
Camilla didn’t understand why she wouldn’t just accept the fame and enjoy it. There were many people here who were so happy she existed. Finally, it wasn’t just the small number of Beastkin living in the capital who knew they had a much more powerful ally than each other. They had something that was more powerful than all Beastkin combined.
She had never felt so isolated in her life. Sigrid didn’t want this kind of fame, and she certainly didn’t want to use the dragon to fight. She’d done that once already, and the guilt burned in her chest far hotter than any dragon fire.
Nightmares plagued her every night. She still heard the screams of Bymerians as she rained fire down upon their castle. The Red Castle, the place where she’d learned so much about the people she’d always thought were monsters.
The Bymerians were supposed to be terrible people. All of them. They were supposed to be monsters who didn’t care for their children, who threw Beastkin into pits of flames, who hated anyone different that crossed into their kingdom.
Instead, they had been… not open-minded, but at least interested in what she had to say. The people on the streets had at first been the monsters. But she had seen a different side of them that confused her. A side which was soft and kind, thoughtful and accepting.
And then Nadir had turned into a dragon, fought with her midair, and she didn’t know what to think about it.
She had been certain they were going to slaughter him at his weakest moment. That they would have destroyed him where he lay just for being the kind of creature that she was. But then Raheem had told her he was still alive and she had to see him.
He was hiding Beastkin. And delivering them to her side just to save them.
Sigrid’s mind was in such a constant state of shock she didn’t know which way was up most of the time. She couldn’t even tell her dearest friend, because she knew what Camilla would say.
Stop talking to the Sultan of Bymere and remember who your people are.
Her lungs seized and suddenly, she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Sigrid burst through the edge of the forest, her feet striking the cobblestone path. She scanned the scene in front of her with a mixture of disdain and pure disappointment.
Living with animals sometimes had its benefits. They were never hungry, because most of the Beastkin could live entirely on meat. Those who couldn’t, could smell out food that was safe to eat. They hadn’t even needed to start a farm this year, because there was plenty to go around.
But then sometimes, living with animals meant that they lived in filth. All her eyes could see was the destruction of the keep around her. They’d started the feast without her, or at least, the drinking part of the feast.
In a daze, Sigrid walked past a tent that had been shredded by claws. The bedroll inside hadn’t fared much better, and she knew the inhabitant would be getting to stay inside the keep tonight. Shards of pottery littered the ground, likely the last of the precious few she had brought back from Greenmire Castle the last time she’d spoken with the Earthen King.
Sigrid stooped down and ran her finger through what looked like a river of red. She touched the finger to her tongue, relieved it was wine and angered that they were wasting so much.
A Beastkin man stumbled by her. One of the Bymerians who clearly wasn’t used to the strength of Earthen alcohol. He weaved down the street with a hollowed out gourd in his hand. Liquid sloshed, spilling over the edges and falling onto the stone path.
“Dragoness,” he said, slurring his words. “You were supposed to be here a while ago.”
“And drink wasn’t supposed to be opened until this evening,” she replied, catching ahold of his arm when his knees buckled. “Which tent is yours, brother?”
“I don’t rightly know where I am, to be honest.” He leered up at her, his eyes crossing for a moment before he righted himself. “You’ve got beautiful eyes, love.”
Camilla ducked between them before Sigrid lost her temper entirely. “I’ll take him back to his tent. I know which one is his.”
The anger within her burned so hot, she almost punished him for the words regardless of her friend stepping in. But that wasn’t her. That was the ridiculous creature inside her who was making itself more known as of late.
Sigrid stepped back and nodded. “See that you do.”
The hissing whisper of her friend filled the air as she dragged the man away. “What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?”
Even her own people worried that she would lose her mind and burn them all to the ground. Comforting thought when she lay in her bed alone at night.
Sigrid curled her fingers into fists, squeezing so hard she nearly drew blood. The pain helped her focus, so she wouldn’t think dark thoughts. That after all this bloodshed, after starting a war between two countries, that she could ever regret freeing the Beastkin.
She turned and made her way to the castle. It loomed in the distance, ominous and bold as ever.
They’d yet to name it. Mostly because neither group could decide on what to call the place. Castle, palace, or keep felt wrong to say even though those were technically the words they should be using. They felt too cold to make this place a home, and there were no kings or queens here.
Sigrid was the unofficial matriarch, but the panel of people who made decisions for the Beastkin came from each of the houses that were forming. Predators, prey, avians, all the creatures seemed to have someone who wanted to rise to the forefront. But everyone listened to Sigrid and Jabbar.
She set her shoulder against the double doors leading into the great hall and shoved hard. Think of the devil and he shall appear.
Jabbar sat reclining on top of a large table at the far end of the hall. He lifted a fist full of what she could only assume was cow meat, rivulets of dark blood dripping down his hands. The Thunderbird preferred to have his meat either raw or barely cooked.
Even Sigrid wasn’t so savage.
The interior of the keep hadn’t fared any better than the outside. Food splattered the wall, decorating each and every surface with a mess she couldn’t overlook. There was a splatter of blood coating one side. Hopefully not from one of the Beastkin but from a poor animal they’d feasted upon. Clothing hung from the rafters, and a table was overturned in the corner.
Laughter filled the air along with the sounds of animals grunting and groaning. These, she was certain, were actually Beastkin.
Jabbar’s voice boomed throughout the hall. “Ah yes, the illustrious fighter returns from her solitude!” He lifted the hand full of carrion in her direction. “Welcome home, dragoness.”
It had been Jabbar who’d started calling her that, and the others had fallen quickly into place as well. They had little interest in declaring themselves nicknames that linked them to their creatures. But for her? They wanted her to know that she was different.
Sigrid knew it didn’t come from a dark place. They wanted to honor her with the name, as if she was some kind of mythical creature who had appeared out of nowhere to save them.
To her, it felt like just another declaration that she wasn’t the same as them. That she was some kind of creature who had to be held apart from all the others.