It was real.
“Where we are going?” I asked. “My lord.”
Orrik waved a hand. “Not ‘lord.’ I gave up my title long ago. I am Dragon Mage Orrik, and I am taking you to the Kyer.”
“The Kyer,” I repeated. I went back to the dream idea. “You mean, the mountain with dragons?”
The slightest of smiles. “There are four mountains, actually. And yes.”
I couldn’t believe it. “The Kyer wants to protect me? A halfblood.”
Orrik leaned forward and put his elbows on my knees, making me press my back into the bench’s cushy back. “Adara, who are your parents?”
My face warmed. I always turned red when someone brought up my mother. “Garth didn’t tell you?” Something occurred to me, and my heart squeezed. “Garth is alive, right? The Carthesians didn’t hurt—”
“Garth is well, and never mind what he did or did not tell me. I asked you.”
I dropped my gaze to the carriage floor. It was polished wood. “Mother… Her name was Krysta. We think she was some lady’s maid. Garth said her speech was too smooth and soft, and she could read and, well, she was just different. My father…”
My face burned even more. Surely Orrik could figure out the rest. “I don’t know his name. Mother never told me. Or anyone.”
“Garth said she had died in the Sickness?” Orrik’s rumble had softened.
I nodded.
“You were born in Stoneyfield?”
“No. Somewhere else. Mother worked as a seamstress there, near a town. Lots of people started dying. Mother said the Lady didn’t care, so we were leaving. By the time we came to Stoneyfield, she was sick. She died within two weeks.”
Tears still sprang to my eyes when I remembered the end: stargazing with her one last time; her upset that we couldn’t afford crystals for the sickroom; Mother saying with her last breath that she loved me…
Orrik let me sit in silence. When I finally looked at him, he was studying me. Was he looking for my father? Lily said I had gotten everything from my ma, from my deep blue eyes to the high cheekbones. My dark brown hair did curl while hers had been straight, but you couldn’t tell that with my braid. No, the only thing I’d gotten from my father was the magic.
The blighted magic that had ruined my world.
Not ruined. I forced myself to admit the truth. Lily and Garth said no before the fire.
I cleared my throat. “I don’t see why the Kyer is willing to protect me. With my blood. Lily told me all babies with mixed blood are killed.”
Orrik grimaced. “Lily spoke true, though the practice is much contested. Your past is something you must conceal. As far as protection, Adara, we wish to do more than that. The Dragonmaster would like to extend to you an offer to join the Kyer.”
“You’re joking.”
From his close-cropped hair to his toes, Orrik seemed serious. “You will have to earn your way, of course, like any mage who wishes to join our ranks.”
“I’ll have to fight in the war?” Usually Drageria avoided wars and only dealt with tribal raids—few wanted to take on dragons. Carthesia forming its own kyer, however, had changed that.
“You do not realize what you are, do you?”
A bastard peasant no one wants?
“The color of Gift means something,” Orrik said. “Not all nobles have magic, and most who do are yellow and weak. A yellow Gift, to us, hardly matters. Red is better. With skill and creativity, a red mage can marry to better advantage, or become a city official, or serve a highborn family, or follow a number of other opportunities.
“But all families pray their children manifest black.” He pointed to the globe floating in the carriage. “A black chooses his future. He breaks free of bloodlines and rank and title. Dragonmaster Merram was born the second son in a low family, but because of his black Gift, he came to the Kyer. Now he is behind only King Irian in political power.”
A long pause as Orrik stared at me. My voice seemed very small as I spoke. “Blue is the strongest… Gift.”
“There is perhaps one blue born every century.” Orrik tapped the covered window. “That is why the Carthesians will never stop hunting you. For the past few years, they have snatched every unprotected, newly manifested mage in Drageria. After all, every mage denied us is one that makes us weaker, and if the child can be persuaded to join their side, all the better.”
My stomach curdled. “So that’s why you’ll overlook everything. For the war.”
Orrik pulled open a drawer from under my bench and withdrew a slim wooden box. “More than overlook. The Dragonmaster is willing to give you an entirely new life. You can read, I hope?”
I nodded as he removed sheets of paper from the box. “Mother taught me. I’m not very good.”
He handed me the first sheet: Adara of Threepines, I managed to make out. The words had been written in careful, large letters.
“Threepines is a secluded mountain holding,” Orrik said. He flipped the page, and there was another with lines squiggled all over. He tapped some pointy ones that made me think of mountains. “The family is considered eccentric. They love children and avoid politics. No one will question if a Threepines comes across as awkward.
“Within the family itself, you are the sixth child of eleven. This sheet lists your siblings, a few facts about each one, their spouses and children, et cetera. This sheet here details everything you may ever need to know about your home, from the layout of your bedroom to details of the holding’s towns.”
Orrik picked up yet another slim bundle, this one tied with string. “These will begin your education on nobility. For example, ranks: Duke, Marquis, Count, Viscount, Baron, Baronette. How marriage, wealth, and connections alter power. Once we arrive at the Kyer, the Dragonmaster will arrange
