I began with deep breaths, stilling my mind as Zoland had taught. I cupped my hands… and, like so many times before, my quiet mind began to babble. Duke So-and-So’s territory contains this baron’s, and when he married So-and-So… Last week, did you hear, this girl began to court this boy, it’s a scandal… And in 503 the Marquis of Elderdown raised taxes on wheat…
“Sometimes, I do focus,” I told my hands. “I do. And yet, even then you’re empty.”
The Time Sphere formed. I changed into a nicer, embroidered blue shirt with some black breeches. A quick glance at the waypoints in Mountain One—the ‘Public Mountain,’ everyone called it. Instead of apartments, it had gardens, a theater, rooms for entertaining, a fancy dining hall, ballrooms—all places I never went. And, of course, the Dragonmaster’s Quarters.
His door was open when I arrived, revealing a foyer where red-banded children played a game on the floor. An older man sat behind a desk. As I approached, he consulted a large book. “Trainee Adara?”
I nodded.
The elderly man slowly stood and showed me to an adjoining room. Groups of maroon chairs clustered around small tables holding illustrated books. It clearly was a room to keep petitioners comfortable until the Dragonmaster could meet with them. The man poured me a glass of water from a crystal decanter in the room’s corner and asked me to have a seat.
The glass shook in my hand as he returned to the foyer and shut the door. I took a sip; my mouth still felt dry. Any moment, the second-most-powerful man in Drageria would appear. Any moment, I’d meet the man who had given me my identity.
Is there anything I can do for the Kyer to convince him to let me stay?
On the walls, portraits frowned at the room. Each Dragonmaster’s eyes seemed to narrow as he or she examined the bastard halfblood. Blue or no, I had nothing to offer them. Not unless I could curl their painted edges with a well-aimed fireball.
The door to the study swung open. I jumped so badly that my water sloshed all over the chair. “Pigsh—sho sorry, I’ll get a towel—”
“Easy. It’ll dry.” The man in the doorway chuckled. “There are no dragons here to eat you, and they don’t mind a little water anyway.”
I flushed as I turned—and blinked. I’d expected the Dragonmaster to be looming and, well, Orrik-like. Instead, he looked nice. Like, have-a-chat-while-sipping-a-warm-drink nice. White streaked his short brown hair, and his eyes were a soft hazel. I guessed him in his forties or fifties. He wore the Kyer uniform with an impressive amount of silver trim, but other than that…
“I look better with a dragon behind me,” the man said, pointing. Sure enough, a fiercer version of him hung in the waiting room. Then he took a step backward. “Come in. And please, call me Merram, and leave out the bowing for today.”
I nodded. My best skill.
The Dragonmaster’s study also took me by surprise. It had the required massive desk and hard, wooden chairs. Glass shielded the contents of the bookcase, and dragon tapestries covered the walls. But piles of paper towered on the desk, threatening to topple off entirely, and the bookcase was missing enough books for the contents to lean this way and that.
Merram patted one of the piles as we took our seats. “Your tutors speak highly of your efforts. They are appalled by your ignorance, of course, but you have exceeded my expectations. In most areas.”
The rest lingered in the air, and I squirmed in my seat. “My magic.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been trying, I really have—”
“I don’t doubt it.” Merram held up a hand. “Zoland says you memorize everything he gives you, down to hand gestures. In fact, the cumulative reports of your instructors lead me to believe you are quite intelligent.” He paused, and something flashed across his face, some emotion I couldn’t quite catch. It wasn’t a good one. “The problem remains, however, that the only mages allowed at the Kyer are trainees, bonded, or spouses. You must figure this out, Adara.”
This was a great opportunity for a grave nod. “If my Gift doesn’t work…”
“You have two months to prevent that if.”
I swallowed. “I understand.”
Some of the severe lines on his forehead softened. “Zoland says he has a few more ideas to try, so let’s stay positive. And to relieve you of some stress, I’ve adjusted your schedule. Dancing can be learned later. Same with history. We need you in the present. Here’s a complete list.”
“Thank you,” I said with sincere relief as I took the paper he offered. Delaying history cut my reading and writing in half.
“I do have something to add as well, but more on that later,” Merram said. “Have you had any contact with Carthesia?”
“Carthesia?” I looked up from the paper. “Are they still after me?”
“We are keeping an eye on all our trainees,” Merram said. “As a blue, you are a very tempting target.”
“Am I safe?” In my head I answered no, because why else would he bring it up?
“At the Kyer, yes. I worry instead about Thorkel luring you from these mountains. Notify me if you receive any suspicious communications.”
My spine tingled. Carthesia, lure me? Worse, I could guess how. Orrik had found me so quickly. This life, created in such little time. Orrik had explained my being a blue had encouraged such effort, but what if I had been, say, a yellow? What if Merram had taken interest in me for personal reasons?
Even if Merram knows of my father, he’ll never tell me. And knowing Father’s identity won’t change anything. He can’t acknowledge my existence.
Except, knowing my father’s identity would change everything to me. I wanted to know Father had loved Krysta and had helped her hide… just as much as I feared him being the reason for her hiding.
All of that flitted through my mind in mere seconds… Or minutes. For the Dragonmaster was staring at me, and when
