“May I present you to your classmates?” Jerroth took her arm and made his way around the room. Standing together, they were perfection.
I will never, ever be her. Tressa’s every word and gesture was pure beauty. I knew of Blackveil—my first heraldry lesson had started with Those Most Important. Blackveil was only a viscounty, but of long bloodlines, immense wealth, and a habit of marrying into the royal family. Tressa was practically a princess.
Yet, why is she at the Kyer instead of Dragonsridge? My heraldry tutor had mentioned that Those Most Important hated losing children to dragons. Even if Tressa was a younger sibling, she could marry at court. With her beauty, she could marry anyone.
The couple came to me and Jerroth did introductions. I decided the less I spoke, the better.
Tressa smiled with delight. “A Threepines! Goodness. How many of you are there now? And to leave your estate—you’re quite the rebel in the family, aren’t you?”
Is she insulting me or praising me? I smiled back and shrugged.
And it was over. Jerroth escorted Tressa to Paige, the last person in the room. Tressa took a step past the timid girl. Jerroth was left standing, a frown making his blue eyes a bit icier.
Tressa patted the table at the front of the room. “Please, Jerroth, our instructor has arrived.”
Please, please, please don’t be him.
It wasn’t Shamino. The elderly woman I’d met before, the one with the severe bun and straight back, strode into the room. I took the nearest seat, and Paige took the one beside me.
The instructor surveyed the room as everyone settled. She wore the Kyer uniform—tight black with silver and green trim. Her mouth, a mere line. “I count fifteen of you. Let’s begin.”
She removed a slim rod of white from her pocket and scribbled Dragon Mage Sylvia on the black wall. “My name is Sylvia. To everyone at the Kyer, I have no house, I have no title. I exchanged them for my dragon. This is your first lesson. If you wish to be a Dragon Mage, your former identity is gone.”
Murmurs. A blond boy raised his hand. “I was assured that if I joined the Kyer, I’d still inherit.”
“True. You’ll inherit,” Sylvia said, “but you are only ‘lord’ while on your personal lands, conducting personal business. Those times will be few. While at the Kyer, or while at Dragonsridge on Kyer business, you are a Dragon Mage and will be addressed as such.”
The feel of the room thickened.
“My job is to teach you what you need to succeed at the Kyer.” Sylvia scribbled Dragon on the wall and encircled it. “Everything centers on them. We live in these particular mountains because the dragons like sulfur springs. We train in the winter and patrol in the summer because of the dragons’ natural energy levels. Most of all, we strive to adhere to the dragons’ expectations for our social interactions.” She consulted a slip of paper from her pocket. “Devon. Name the most powerful man at the Kyer and why.”
Without hesitation, a boy near the back answered. “The Dragonmaster. He’s the most powerful mage.”
“Right and wrong.” In hard letters she wrote Dragonmaster Merram and, off to the side, Orrik. She crossed out Orrik’s name. “Orrik is the strongest mage at the Kyer. Merram’s Gift is mid-range black. His family, lowborn. However, Merram inspires those he meets and deals fair justice. The Council of Elder Dragons felt Merram was the type of leader we needed after the assassination of the previous Dragonmaster.”
I jolted in my seat. Orrik hadn’t mentioned assassination. I noticed Paige eying me, so I brushed my leg as if it had a bug or a spider on it. Inside, though, the news bothered me. Someone had killed a man surrounded by dragons? Maybe not. The Dragonmaster could have been somewhere else at the time. I hoped so, with Carthesia wanting me.
Sylvia consulted her paper. “Anastasi, who is next in power?”
The brunette who had been watching me during introductions spoke up. “Seneschal Ramiel.”
“Right and wrong again. Ramiel retired.” Sylvia wrote Seneschal Shamino beneath the Dragonmaster.
“You’re kidding,” Tressa said in a whisper loud enough for all of us to hear. Sylvia turned from the board and raised an eyebrow. “Shamino of—he’s only nineteen.”
“He is,” Sylvia said as if commenting on the weather. I began to suspect she enjoyed shocking her students. “He is also the strongest dragon healer in centuries. The dragons chose him—unanimously—for his healing ability and his devotion.”
The rest of the room seemed as bewildered as Tressa—except Paige, who hid the faintest of smiles with her hand.
Tressa tried again. “But he’s disinherited. In disgrace! The court—”
“Is not here,” Sylvia finished.
Jerroth raised a finger. “I believe Lady Tressa—”
“Tressa only,” Sylvia interrupted. “No ‘Lady.’”
Jerroth grimaced, but his tone stayed perfectly polite. “Tressa means no offense, I am sure, but merely wonders why the Kyer allows a man disdained by Dragonsridge to hold a position of power. Wouldn’t that hamper Kyer relations with the capitol and with other branches of military?”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Sylvia’s sour expression changed to one of approval. She underlined the already-encircled Dragon. “A well-thought objection, and it highlights how draconian ways are counterintuitive to human. As the Seneschal operates entirely within the Kyer, the dragons believe Dragonsridge’s opinions do not matter. Shamino possesses the skills best for the position; he becomes Seneschal. The end.”
A long pause. As the students exchanged incredulous whispers, I wondered. Did the Dragon Mages really forget their social ties? Could they? Everyone in the room was, like me, near sixteen years of age. Sixteen years of memory and training and life. Could they be forgotten?
I knotted my fingers together in my lap. The Dragon Mages who’d been part of the Kyer for decades, maybe they’d ignore my faults. Those in this room? Not so much.
Sylvia cleared her throat. “Moving along. Structure. There is no
