The Sky Weaver Page 18

  Were those the scarps Eris spoke of?

  “I apologize for not being able to see you immediately.” The empress sprinkled sand across what she’d written, then gently blew on the ink. “As I’m sure you can imagine, I have a great many questions for you.”

  Safire nodded. It was why she was here—to tell the empress what she knew and hopefully get some answers in return. Answers that might help her track down Eris.

  But there was something she wanted to address first. “I wonder, Empress, if it’s necessary to keep our dragons muzzled and chained.”

  Setting aside her letter, the empress leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied Safire. “You’re displeased with the arrangement?”

  The empress’s cool tone made Safire’s skin prickle with warning. “It . . . surprised me. In Firgaard, we let our dragons roam freely. They fly where they want and come when we call. We don’t lock them up.”

  The empress was silent a moment before responding. “I must apologize, then. The people of the Star Isles are not well acquainted with dragons. The stories we’ve heard have made me cautious. Tell me: is it true that a dragon burned down half of Firgaard not so very long ago?”

  Safire sat up straighter. “Well, yes, that’s true. But—”

  “Didn’t that same dragon nearly kill your cousin?”

  Safire blinked. “Um. Yes, but Asha—”

  “I have a responsibility to the Star Isles, Safire. Your people have a contentious history with dragons. That, combined with my own inexperience, leads me to err on the side of caution. Surely you can understand my position.”

  Safire didn’t know what to say. Seeing it, the empress continued.

  “While you and your dragons are guests in my home, I would ask that you accept the precautions I take. They are for the safety of the people of the Star Isles.” She tapped her lip with a single finger, then looked to the windows. “I can tell my soldiers to loosen the chains, however. Would that make you feel better?”

  Safire swallowed. “I . . . suppose that’s fair.”

  “And now can we move on to more pressing matters?”

  Feeling scolded, Safire nodded.

  “Good.” Leandra folded her hands on her desk. “Your king tells me that you’re . . . well acquainted with my fugitive.”

  Safire blushed. Well acquainted? It was an interesting choice of words. What, exactly, did you tell her, Dax?

  “As you know, my soldiers have been hunting this criminal for several years. Up until yesterday, we knew nothing other than her age. We didn’t even know what she looked like.” When she looked up, her gray eyes were calm as the sea. “How did you find her?”

  Safire explained about the thefts in Firgaard. “I almost caught her. I was so close. But . . .” She paused. “This is going to sound strange, but she disappeared. Right in front of me.”

  The empress’s eyes narrowed a little. But she nodded for Safire to continue. Safire told her the rest of it—being kidnapped by Eris and brought aboard Jemsin’s ship.

  “The pirate Jemsin?” the empress interrupted suddenly. “Are you sure?”

  Safire nodded. “She works for him.”

  Suddenly, the mist coming down from the scarps blocked out the sunlight coming through the windows. The room grew cold.

  “I see” was all the empress said.

  Safire told her about the deal Jemsin made with Eris: her freedom in exchange for bringing the Namsara to him. She told her about being intercepted by Kor, then escaping him with Eris in tow.

  “And that’s when you lost her.”

  Safire nodded. She left out the parts where Eris saved her life—twice—as well as Eris’s account of the night the scrin burned. And also the part where Eris kissed her.

  Heat bloomed in her at the memory.

  “Do you have any idea where she might be now? Perhaps back on Jemsin’s ship?” She looked hopeful about this.

  Safire shook her head. “I don’t think so. She knows the Namsara is in the Star Isles, and intends to hunt her down. It’s why—”

  “Is the Namsara in the Star Isles?” the empress asked, leaning forward in her chair.

  Safire glanced up, remembering suddenly that Asha had declined the empress’s invitation. She might see it as a slight, Asha visiting her islands but not visiting her. It might do more than offend her; it might sabotage the alliance forming between her and Dax—an alliance that meant salvation for the scrublands.

  “Asha is”—Safire struggled to think of an explanation that wouldn’t offend her—“searching for someone. It’s of the utmost importance that she finds them, and only recently has her search taken her here, to these islands.” The next thing she said was a lie. “Dax only got word in Darmoor.”

  Maybe Eris really is rubbing off on me. . . .

  Leandra’s gray eyes remained fixed on her face. “Perhaps I can be of assistance in this search. Who is she looking for?”

  That was the problem. They didn’t know who this maker was, only that a clue might be found at the scrin.

  Which no longer existed.

  “She’s looking for the owner of an artifact,” Safire explained. “A weapon called the Skyweaver’s knife.”

  Abruptly, Leandra rose from her desk, walking toward one of the windows. The silence built, glistening around Safire. “The weapon your queen used to save her sister,” she finally murmured, as if suddenly a world away.

  “Yes.” Safire frowned. “How did you know that?”

  “I heard . . . rumors,” said the empress. “Roa confirmed them over dinner yesterday.” She glanced over her shoulder at Safire. “I confess: it was part of the reason for my invitation. I wanted to know if the rumors were true.”

  “I went to warn Asha,” Safire went on. “But she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.” Safire stood. “This is why I need your help. Eris escaped me only yesterday, and—”

  “Eris?” Still turned toward Safire, the empress’s mouth twisted, as if she’d tasted something sour. “Is that the fugitive’s name?”

  Safire nodded.

  Leandra said nothing for a moment, then turned back to the window. She stared hard into the distant hills, then nodded for Safire to go on. “Eris,” she murmured, as if testing the name on her tongue.

  “She doesn’t know Asha’s precise location. I don’t think it’s possible she’s found her yet, but I’m certain she will find her—and soon.”

  “You don’t want her getting to the Namsara before you do.” Leandra fisted her hand, pressing it to her lips. “Well. Neither do I.” Dropping her hand, she said, “I’ll send out soldiers to every village in the Star Isles. Starting today. If the Namsara is here, we’ll find her.”

  Safire felt a weight lift from her. “Thank you. She has a dragon with her—a massive black dragon with a scar through one eye. He’s difficult to miss.”

  Leandra nodded. “I’ll pass that information along. Now, if you could do me a favor and recatch my fugitive . . .”

  Safire bowed her head. “Of course.”

  “And if you think of anything else I should know, report it directly to me.” She motioned to her attendant—the young girl Safire had all but forgotten. “Will you please see King Dax’s commander out?”

  The girl nodded, motioning for Safire to follow her.

  “If there’s anything else I can do for you,” said Leandra, returning to the window, watching the mist from the scarps slowly descend on the city below, “please let my staff know.”

  “Actually,” said Safire, halting halfway to the doors, then turning back, “there is one thing. I was hoping you could tell me anything you know about her that could help me track her down. Perhaps the village she grew up in, or if she has any—”

  “I’ve already told you all I know about the fugitive,” said Leandra, looking south—the direction of the ruined scrin.

  Safire could tell she was overstepping her bounds now. But if she was going to find Eris in these islands, she needed as much h
elp as she could get.

  “Then I wonder if I could speak to one of the pirates Dax captured?” she pressed. “Kor seems to know Eris fairly well. He might be able to give us more information. Is there someone who could show me to the prison where he’s being kept?”

  “Kor and his crew have already been executed,” said Leandra, her voice cold. “We got the information we needed from them.”

  Safire froze. Had she heard that correctly?

  “Executed?” She breathed the word. “Without a trial?”

  The empress didn’t turn as she said, “They’re pirates, Safire. They don’t get trials.”

  Twenty-Six

  Two Lumina soldiers escorted Safire back to her rooms. The whole way there, the empress’s last words rang through her mind.

  Executing pirates wasn’t a choice Safire would have made. But as she thought of the hungry rage in Kor’s eyes when he looked at Eris, she shivered. Could she really blame the empress for not giving him a trial? After she herself had given Jarek no trial before she put a knife through his heart?

  Still, she needed to find Dax and tell him—about this, and the dragons, and Asha not being where she should be.

  He’ll know what to do.

  A note was waiting on her dresser when she arrived, however. Written in Dax’s shaky script, it said he and Roa were visiting the granaries, where their seeds were being packed for the journey home, and they would see her at the banquet this evening—one being held in honor of their newfound alliance.

  Safire lowered the note, looking to the window. The mist coming down the mountains hadn’t cloaked the city yet. She could still see the sun’s position in the sky.

  It was late afternoon. She wouldn’t need to wait long.

  Glancing up into the mirror, Safire found a small horror looking back. Her hair hung down in wind-blown chunks. Deep crevices under her eyes said she hadn’t slept in . . . she couldn’t remember how long. And her clothes were coated in salt and grime.

  Safire stared at herself. What must the empress think of me?

  She shook off the thought. If she were going to this banquet—and since the banquet seemed her only opportunity to confer with Dax and Roa, she was going—then she desperately needed to wash.

  So, after running the bath, she stripped out of her clothes and sank into the hot, soapy water. Setting immediately to work, she rigorously scrubbed the salt and grime from her hair.

  Gross. Safire scrunched her nose, soaping her hair as she wondered how Eris could have borne kissing her like this.

  The thought brought a rush of embarrassment.

  Maybe that’s why she left so quickly.

  At the thought of Eris, Safire remembered something the Death Dancer said just before they anchored in Axis’s harbor.

  I’ll get no trial.

  Safire stopped scrubbing.

  She hadn’t believed her at the time. But now, as she thought of Kor and the other dead pirates, she wondered if Eris was right.

  If Safire managed to capture her for the empress—as she’d promised to do—would Leandra execute Eris as easily as she’d executed Kor?

  And if so, she thought, sinking down into the water to wash the suds from her hair, could I really deliver her to her death?

  Despite the warm water she soaked in, Safire shivered.

  She lay still, considering the dilemma over and over, trying to find a solution. The bath was so warm, and Safire was so tired, that after a short while, she fell asleep.

  She woke to a sound in the bedroom. Bolting upright in the now-cold water, it sloshed over the tub. Safire sat perfectly still, listening as she gripped the cool ceramic sides. But no sound came from the room beyond this one.

  Slowly, she lifted herself from the bath and wrapped herself in a towel, peering through the doorway.

  At first, she saw nothing unusual or out of place. It was only as she began toweling her hair, scanning the room for a second time, that she saw the dress hanging over the chair in front of the vanity. A dress that hadn’t been there before she got in the bath.

  Safire approached, all her senses on high alert. The dress was sky blue and she ran her fingers across the tightly woven wool threads. She looked for the weaver’s mark, but all she could find was a tiny silver star embroidered into the sleeve of the left wrist.

  Lifting the fabric, she pressed it to her face and breathed in.

  It smelled like the sea.

  Like Eris.

  Her skin prickled at the thought.

  Safire lowered the dress, looking slowly around. But there was no other sign of the Death Dancer walking her rooms while she bathed.

  Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the dress was a gift from the empress, as a thank-you for the information she’d given. After all, Eris would never venture inside the citadel of the enemy she’d been running from for seven years.

  Whoever gave her the dress, it was the only thing Safire had to wear, seeing as her only other clothes were in a grimy, salt-encrusted pile on the floor.

  She had only just pulled the dress over her head when a knock came on the door.

  “Commandant?”

  Safire recognized the voice. It belonged to one of Roa’s personal guards. A young woman named Saba.

  “Yes?” Safire called as the dress cascaded down her.

  “The dragon queen is wondering where you are.”

  Safire frowned as she reached to fasten the button at the back of the neck. “Clearly I’m right here,” she said, swinging open the door.

  Saba stood before her, dressed in her soldat uniform with the dragon queen’s emblem proudly displayed across her chest: a white hawk in a circle of jacaranda flowers. “The banquet started a little while ago,” Saba said, her dark brown curls circling her head like a cloud.

  A little while ago? thought Safire. How long was I asleep?

  “Shall I tell her you’re on your way?” Saba offered.

  Safire touched her damp hair, then nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

  As soon as Saba left, Safire twisted her hair into a knot, then pinned it quickly into place. Before leaving for the banquet, she did another scan of the room, even going so far as to look under the bed and inside the chest full of blankets.

  But she was alone.

  At the bottom of a spiraling staircase in the heart of the citadel, the noise of wind instruments playing a reel wafted down to her as a glass chandelier hung from the ceiling four stories above. Its blue and white glass threw glittering light all down the wide staircase.

  Safire paused on the bottommost step. Ever since Dax promoted her to commandant, Safire attended official events in uniform. As Safire smoothed the woolen dress over her hips now, she felt exposed and vulnerable.

  Sucking in a breath, she started upward, needing to find Dax and tell him everything she’d learned. She climbed the steps until she reached the uppermost floor, where two Lumina stood guard at the entrance to the grand ballroom.

  Safire stepped into the biggest room she’d ever seen. Bigger than any of Firgaard’s courts. Rows of columns ran from end to end, holding up the glass roof. The archway depicted monsterlike creatures cast in gold, and the white walls were broken up by floor-to-ceiling windows where guests stood talking and drinking as the moon rose over the city below.

  It was times like this when Safire most felt like an imposter. All around her, people were dressed in silks and furs and glittering baubles, in rich purples and yellows and blues. Yes, she was a princess, related by blood to the dragon king. Yes, she’d been born in a palace. But those things didn’t tell the whole story—one of a girl who’d been kept out of sight of the court, kept away from her own cousins. Ashamed of and despised because of the choice her father made. Because of who her mother was.

  She might be a princess, but she hadn’t been raised as one. And she’d never belonged in places like this.

  Safire spotted Roa and Dax across the room, within view of their guards, speaking with the empress. Between them and Safire, h
owever, stood Raif. The young soldier who’d escorted her through Axis last night. He was speaking with his captain, Caspian, and Safire thought she heard him say her name, then cast his gaze out over the room, looking hopeful.

  Safire was not in the mood to deal with Raif. Before his eyes fell on her, she turned on her heel . . . and walked straight into a starry crest.

  “Draw attention,” came a familiar voice, “and you’ll never hear what I’ve come to warn you about.”

  Safire’s gaze lifted.

  Eris stood before her wearing a stolen Lumina uniform that hugged her curves: black shirt, black leggings, gray calf-high boots. Her blond hair was knotted loosely at her nape, and a soldier’s cap shielded the upper part of her face.

  The sight of her unearthed a storm of feelings in Safire.

  She knew what she should do: grab Eris and yell for reinforcements. But if she did that, what would happen? If a petty pirate like Kor had gotten no trial, neither would Eris. The empress would certainly execute her.

  Safire glanced around the room full of Eris’s worst enemies and whispered, “Are you out of your damned mind?”

  Twenty-Seven

  Eris hadn’t meant to walk out into that crowd of people. She’d meant to only stand in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to get Safire alone. But as Eris watched Safire step into the room, she’d seen the change come over her.

  In an instant, Safire was no longer the cousin to a king. No longer the commander of his army. Somehow, that room transformed her into someone small and lost and alone.

  Eris couldn’t stand it.

  So, fool that she was, she went to her.

  Her whole body buzzed with unease. Her hands were slick with sweat. But at those words from Safire—Are you out of your damned mind?—the fear drained out of her.

  Safire wasn’t going to alert them to her presence.

  Why? What had changed?

  She shook off the question. Pressing her free hand firmly against the small of Safire’s back, Eris led her to the far end of this uselessly large room, then pushed her out between lush gold curtains and onto one of the balconies.