The Dragon Games

Court

Once I was out of the duke's sight, I worked at my jacket's buttons. The collar was too high, digging into my neck, but my hands shook too much to unclasp it. Fed up, I yanked the fabric with a satisfying rip, then broke into a run without any clue of where I was going, just knowing that I needed to get the hell away. 

By the time my legs gave out, I was in an uncharted part of the palace gardens, miles away from the nearest person. I fell back against a large willow tree and slid down the bark to sink into the grass. I'd return to the palace soon. I just needed some time to think first...

I still hadn't moved by the time the first licks of dawn piecered between the branches. The burning sun rose over the hills, and with it, came a middle aged man. With his aged brown robes and uncut, waist length hair, I might have mistaken him for a pauper, had it not been for his jewerly. A chunky gold necklace wrapped thrice around his throat, ending in a series of constellations, and several rings studded his bony fingers.

When we locked eyes, he raised a hand in greeting. "Raven Black, I presume."

"Ay." I squinted up at him against the rising sun. "And you are?" If this was the crazy old clue-maker, I was a little disappointed. He didn't look half as crazy or old as the rumors made him out to be.

"Why does fire burn?" he said suddenly.

"Uh...." Perhaps I spoke too soon on his sanity. "Because it's hot?"

"Why?"

"Because it's fire."

"Why?"

This time, I did not reply. It didn't seem to get us any where.

"Just because we cannot understand why something happens, does it make it any less true? If I cannot explain why fire is hot, will my skin cease to burn if I hold it to the flame?"

"I suppose not."

He nodded, as if I had just proved his point. "Do not give the wyvern away. Every dragon chooses its rider for a reason. I know not why the wyvern chose you, but it did, and that should not be thrown away for the sake of convenience."

"Well," I said, after a slight beat. Perhaps he knew the stars better than anyone else, but that didn't make him a philosopher. I wanted to point out that a wyvern also chose Torrance the Terrible but held my tongue. An argument would only draw out the conversation, and you can't argue with a mad man. Logic means nothing to him. "Who am I to question the teachings of Divine Providence?"

His answering smile was unreadable, but if he realized I was being false, he didn't comment on it. "You are to spend a year training with the wyvern. If by the end of the year, you still don't want to keep it, I won't contest your decision."

The authority of his tone made me pause, more like the voice of someone who commanded armies than riddled out the stars – and it couldn't have been all for show. He must have some power, for the king to let him keep his job even as the public turned on him for the increasingly vague and nonsensical clue.

"Do you have some influence over the king?" I said.

"I am the king."

"You're – " I broked off with a start, my mouth working up and down. "I thought you were the clue maker."

"I can be both." He offered me his hand, and his robe shifted, revealing a thick gold ring carved with a dragon, its wings spread to from the shape of the crown – the king's sigil. No, the king's ring. I stared at his hand, as if I had forgotten how to move. Well I'll be dammned. A king and a prophet.

"Come forth, girl. I won't bite."

I took his hand, and he pulled me up with ease. He hid a strong form behind those cloaks. I wondered if he has seen battle – or led it.

"No doubt the dukes have made you offers," the king said. "On my command, they will retract them, until a year's time."

"I don't have a year," I blurt out. "Duke Balthasar has plans in motion. If I don't act now, I can't ever go back."

The king he reached into his robe, pulling out a small, pitch black stone. For a moment, I thought it was coal, but it was impossibly smooth to the touch, and glittered under the sunlight at every movement. What's more, the longer I held the stone, the more energy thrummed between my fingers, as if it had a heartbeat.

"Duke Balthasar's soul stone," the king said. "He will think twice before striking against you."

I stared at the stone, then at the king, unable to hide my surprise. This was a better solution than I could have ever hoped for. Without his dragon, Duke Balthasar could not compete with the other Houses. Even Tudor would crush him. It was like I held Duke Balthasar's heart in my hands, the fate of his House – and by proxy, his entire bloodline – beholden to my mood.

"And what must I do in return?" I said. My voice sounded far away; I barely even recognised it. "Wait a year, then I can do whatever I want with the wyvern? No strings attached?"

"Whatever you like after the year's up," the king replied. "And not one second sooner."

I met his eyes, and I saw a flash of sharpness there, nothing like madness. Maybe his philosophies weren't the only reason he wanted to keep the wyvern in my hands and out of the Balthasar's. Give me a year, and I could change my mind and fly for the king instead of one of his Houses. And even if I didn't, a year gives the king ample time to get the wyvern into the hands of his choosing.

The king pulled a patch from his pocket, and its design matched his ring. It was the crown's sigil, the final missing patch for my jacket.

"Welcome to Court," he said.

END OF PART ONE