Melio pulled back. “No, no. Welcome, you three, to the proper service of the crown.”
“Call it what you will,” Geena said. “Let’s go. No use waiting for a patrol to stop by. I’m done being bait.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The first day she arrived with baskets of fruit for Elya’s children, Corinn stepped through the corridor opening onto Elya’s terrace to the sight of the redheaded dragon flapping its silken wings, maintaining a jolting, unsteady hover a few feet above the patterned tiles. Po, she called him. He grew inches every day. How much of that was natural and how much was accelerated by the Giver’s tongue she had used on them while still in the eggs she could not measure. She knew some of it was her doing, but the young ones already had traits distinctly their own. In hatching, in reaching out to touch her, in flight-in everything so far-Po had always been first. He would be the first to take a rider also. She was sure of it.
Elya stood, watching him, her eyes wide and her mouth opening and snapping shut, as if she were on the verge of shouting encouragement but was too nervous. Two of the other young ones flanked her. These also had names-in Corinn’s mind at least. With Mena away, who else would give them names? The brown one with the yellow stripes down her back was Thais. The sky-blue male, hopping from foot to foot at the moment, was Tij. The completely black one lounged atop the balcony railing, a drape of long, sinewy curves. She opened an eye and watched Corinn. Kohl, Corinn called her.
It took her a while to figure out how she had identified their sexes. None of them had any visible genitalia. Neither did Elya, for that matter. But Corinn had no doubt about her guesses. They did look a little different. The males were more vibrantly colored and thicker in the jaws and neck, with crest feathers that bunched behind their heads and erupted out to either side down their necks. The two females were more modestly hued, a little longer in their limbs, and more serpentine. Their crest feathers flared straight up when they lifted them, thin and high. The females had the same citrus scent in the oil on their feathers as Elya did. The touch of it always left Corinn’s fingers tingling. The males-Po in particular-had a musky, burned fragrance. When touched, their oils did not so much tingle the flesh as heat it. Still, it was not unpleasant. Just potent in a different way.
“Hello, beauties,” Corinn called. “I have fruit for you.”
She stepped forward with a jaunty enthusiasm she would never have let human eyes witness. She held the basket out before her as if it contained treasures, which is just how the young dragons reacted. Po froze midflap and fell to the stone tiles. Thais and Tij snapped their heads around, recognized her, and scrabbled forward, going down to all fours and slither-crawling. Kohl was slower to rise. When she jumped from the wall, her wings spread out and slowed her descent. She landed gracefully, retracted her wings, and scurried forward to join the others.
They crowded around Corinn’s legs, making it hard for her to walk. They dipped and bobbed and circled her. They climbed over one another, nipping and hissing on occasion. Tij clawed at her velvet skirt, as if he would climb right up her. Corinn reprimanded him playfully, and made a mental note to wear sturdier garb in the future.
She sank down among them, setting the basket of fruit in front of her. For a few moments, she held herself still, the center of a squirming ball of raucous, attention-hungry children. They fought for her touch. They pressed their crowns against her outstretched palms, rubbed her legs and back, and leaned into her chest. Corinn knew this could not last. She had wanted to make them love her, and she had. Soon she would have to break them out of childhood. She would need to harden them for the struggles to come.
Soon, she thought. Soon, but not today.
Thinking this, Corinn looked up at Elya, who had moved away a little distance, to a corner of the terrace. She paced several quick circuits of the space before settling her backside against the stone, lowering herself with a comically avian motion, a bird settling onto a nest. Only when she was situated did she deign to look back at Corinn. Was that annoyance in the squint of her left eye?
You don’t trust me, Corinn thought, but you don’t exactly think I’m a threat either. But I am, Mother Elya. I am. I want your children for my own.
She repeated that: I want your children for my own. She watched for any sign that Elya heard her, but the creature sat, watching. Nothing in her demeanor changed. Corinn often tested Elya this way. She explained her desires in taunting interior language that she held within her head, all the time looking for signs that Elya could read her thoughts. Mena believed so, but Corinn, after weeks of uncertainty, had concluded that Elya could not. For all the ways she dilated her pupils or blinked her eyes or bobbed her head, it was only the human eyes watching her that construed intelligence in her actions. The gifts Mena endowed Elya with were Mena’s own creations. It was a relief, really. Elya would be easier to deal with, harshly if necessary.
They can’t be both of ours, Corinn went on as she stroked the fine feathers along Po’s neck. If they were yours, they would eat fruit and be playthings for children. They would fly circles above the palace and make people gasp with pleasure. No harm in that, but those are such small goods. If they are mine… well, then they can be warriors for the empire. They can be creatures for the ages, new symbols of Acacian power. Don’t think me evil, Elya. I want only the best things for my family, for the empire, and for the people of it. That’s why I want your children to be my warriors. It’s already begun, anyway. They started being mine when I sang to them in their eggs. I’ve only to sing to them again to seal them to me, to help them grow into the weapons I need them to be.
Corinn stood and looked around, feeling as if somebody were watching her. She turned a slow circle but saw nobody. She caught a scent in the air and recognized it at some level that she was not interested in reaching down to. With a few whispered notes of the song, a breeze brushed past, freshening the air and clearing her mind. No need to give in to the illusions her use of the song stirred into the world.
The fruit consumed and their greeting enthusiasm spent, the young dragons moved off one by one to find other distractions. Kohl unfurled her wings and leaped up onto the terrace wall and stretched them wide, absorbing the mild winter sun. Thais stood on her hind legs, head craned, studying the nubs that housed her wings. She had not, as far as Corinn knew, spread them yet. Tij lifted his snout, half opened as he watched condors circle high above the island.
Only Po stayed beside Corinn a little longer. He rested one arm against Corinn’s thigh, and pushed her other hand-as delicate and expressively fingered as his mother’s-through the peels and the few remaining orbs of fruit.
“You want something more than fruit, don’t you?” Corinn whispered to him.
The dragon slid his head toward her, mouth open as if awaiting an offering. The yellow of his eyes shone with a wavering intensity, as if his irises were a thin foil of gold and a fire burned just behind it. Corinn stroked his crest feathers. They rose at her touch.
“Soon I’ll get you something more. Something to make you grow strong.”
She began to pull her hand away and rise. Po’s head dipped, his eyes on Corinn, and then his serpentine neck snapped up. His jaws opened, and when the blur of motion ended, he had Corinn’s wrist pinched in his mouth. He did bite down, but his teeth only dimpled her flesh. The movement had been so swift that Corinn jerked her arm, causing the sharp, tiny teeth to scratch her skin. She and Po both froze.
Staring down at him, unsure whether to be frightened or angry or amused, Corinn spoke with a sharp-edged calm. “Not me, Po. Not me.” She reached around with her other hand and tugged his upper jaw. She slid her wrist free. Just a few scratches, thin white lines like the tracks of kitten claws. She pinched Po’s jaws shut with her fingers and tilted his face toward hers. “Never put those teeth on me. Never. If you do, I won’t love you.”
With that, she snapped her fingers and strode for the corridor. Just before she stepped into the shadows, she glanced toward Elya and met eyes already watching her. Really, she thought, I have to do something about her.
W ith that in mind, she spent the next several days trying to convince Elya to fly north to retrieve Mena. She stood before the creature and spoke simple directions to her. Elya puffed through her reptilian nostrils. She pulled her eyelids back and then squinted. She answered with a variety of bodily motions and quirks, quick bouts of preening, her gaze often darting away toward one of her children. None of it showed any sign she comprehended Corinn in the slightest, or cared to.
Recalling how Mena had explained it, Corinn formed her directions in her mind and offered them. When that
