“Go away! Out, out!” my escort said to the men. He followed with something else in Carthesian, and the men abandoned card games and Stones boards. Most of them exited through the farthest of four doors. Unlike the door I had come through, none of theirs creaked. Locks clicked in the silence that followed.
My Carthesian headed to a polished side table laden with fruits, cheeses, and breads. “Hungry from flight?”
“Um… water?” I preferred the hostile men.
“Yes! We have water.” He brought me a chilled glass and a plate piled with food. I set the food on top of someone’s Stones board on the nearest table.
The Carthesian noticed how I had freed one hand. He laughed and tapped his head. “Ahhh, smart girl!”
“Thorkel,” I said. I needed this over before my practiced numbness was destroyed by nerves. “He did send the notes?”
“Bah, Dragerians too impatient. No sense of hospitality.”
“I’m not here to visit,” I said, though I felt a touch of guilt at rejecting him. I shook it off. “I’m here for the truth.”
The man wrinkled a nose. “Truth. Is a creature of many faces. Like this. Who am I? I am pappa to my boy. I am no-good camel racer to my mama. A supply person to my king—who I get right now, grumpy girl.” He moved toward a door on the right and waved a ringed hand in the air. “I hope you like truth.”
I set the full glass of water on the table next to the food. The Carthesian had made me off-balance with his friendly talk. Soon, I’d see the face of the man who had invaded my kingdom, destroyed my village, and killed my dragons.
Who had given me the key to my Gift. The sapphire hung heavy against my chest.
A door opened.
A tanned Dragerian in Carthesian clothing entered. Thorkel was shorter than I. His brown, thinning hair was half gone, but what remained curled at the edges. I guessed him about forty. Black, squinty eyes. He saw me, and he smiled.
My smile.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“First One, no,” I said, my voice barely louder than a breath.
His smile grew and I trembled to see my smile on that man. “At long last. I am pleased you inherited my curiosity and thirst for truth. But beauty, that you got from Krysta. You are her made anew.”
“You—you’re Thorkel,” I said. I leaned against the table for support, and it ground against the wooden floor. “I thought Merram was my father—”
“He claimed you?” My smile on Thorkel’s face twisted into rage.
“No. But…” Merram looked nothing like me, and here was Thorkel with my smile and the curl to my hair. Yet Mother’s letters had been so full of love—
“Ah.” Thorkel’s rage vanished. “A leader of magic and men gives you a home. Naturally you’d assume kinship, and it is easiest for him to keep you ignorant.”
“He knows,” I said, stating the obvious.
Thorkel ambled to the opposite end of the table I leaned on. He lifted a stone from an abandoned game and placed it on the board. “Merram is a master of deceit. For example, did you know you’re a pureblood?”
“What?”
“I was a viscount before Drageria’s and my… misunderstanding. Krysta, the only heir to the Marquis of Clearspring. Your grandfather, I believe, is still alive. Think on that. Merram kept title and family from you. That is the man you follow.”
My face prickled with dizziness. Mother—a marquess. This entire time, I could have been a lady—I could have had a family.
I could have been known as the daughter of Drageria’s greatest enemy.
“The question now becomes, what will you do with this knowledge?” Thorkel moved another piece, playing against himself. “Merram deceived you. He stole my Krysta, and then he let her die alone in filth. He ignored you until you proved useful. You are a tool to him, nothing more. Is that the man you choose to serve?”
He smiled my smile again, tipped the board, and all the pieces clattered to the floor. “Or, do you choose your father, the King of Carthesia—making you a princess—and help me shape a new Drageria?”
My head swam. “I can’t join you.”
“Do not respond out of reflex. Think!” He skirted the table and came closer, stopping in a shard of sparkling sunlight. “When a lord doesn’t take care of his commoners, they leave for a better lord. Drageria is broken. You can heal it. Imagine a Drageria without nobles and commoners but instead with opportunity. In Carthesia, families with magic marry those without.”
“Carthesia has tribes that kill each other,” I said.
“Not anymore.”
I hesitated. The First One’s Record said He gave magic to men so they could protect those without the Gift… but Drageria’s nobles exploited the commoners. Even the Kyer didn’t treat its commoners as full equals, and it ignored the peasants outside its mountains.
“Halfbloods should not exist, not because they are murdered, but because they are impossible. There should not be two bloods.” Thorkel made a fist. “A blue mage should be valued for her beauty, intelligence, and power—not enshrouded by lies because she has been denied the advantages of others. A kingdom so flawed begs to be rebuilt.”
In so many ways, he was right. I had rejoiced to see Stoneyfield cared for, living in tents and hidden in mountains. Meanwhile the Count of Tworivers likely played the Game in Dragonsridge, rewarded for his birth.
Thorkel assassinated the former Dragonmaster, I reminded myself. Against his idyllic words I pictured my dragons bleeding all over the Infirmary floor. “Drageria’s not perfect, but I cannot kill to make it so.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you are saying that you will refuse to spill blood against me? For if you return to Merram, you will be killing. My men. My dragons. Will you kill to keep Drageria, as you say, less than perfect?”
I looked away. Plaster flaked on the walls, though desert scenes had been hung to hide the decay. The desert, where
