Adale glanced in the mirror. The previous night’s coiled braid had come loose and was now hanging down her back, there was still dried wine sticking to her neck, and she had a cut above her eye where Svana had slashed at her with magic after Adale punched her in the nose. Perhaps a bath was in order.
Every castle, palace, and manor house in the land had a youth blessed with Inthi’s gift of flame in its service. Usually no older than ten, the child’s sole responsibility was heating water for baths and laundry (and occasionally tea, if someone was feeling particularly impatient). It wasn’t a difficult job, and usually tipped well, but it was never permanent. Inevitably, the children would discover a passion for one of Inthi’s arts and leave for the workshops, whereupon another blessed child would be brought in as a replacement.
Adale rang for the heater, and they (the blessed of Inthi were almost always neutroi, just as Inthi was) arrived quickly, followed by a trio of maids bearing buckets of water. If—no, when Adale was queen, she’d have the metalworkers from Inthi’s District put in pipes to run water through the castle, like the ones the emperor had in Xytae.
She took her time with the bath, reflecting on yesterday’s events with a surprising sense of satisfaction. Esofi had chosen her over her cousins yet again. Her only true regret was that she’d been useless at helping defeat the dragon. Why had the twins been granted magic instead of Adale? It was fundamentally unfair, decided Adale, conveniently forgetting what her attitude toward the gods had been for the last seventeen years.
Once the water had gone cold, Adale forced herself to dry off, braid her hair, and dress herself. Then she set off in search of the ambassadors from Veravin, the Lord Matvei and Lady Yekarina.
It was still somewhat early, so Adale decided to check the banquet hall first. The ambassadors weren’t there, but she paused to eat anyway. When she was finished, she asked the servants if any of them knew where the ambassadors had gone. Someone finally directed her toward one of the sitting rooms.
Lord Matvei and Lady Yekarina were an older couple who spent most of their time with Adale’s parents. Like most people from the icy northern continent of Siabaeld, they were quiet, bordering on dour—until they laughed, and then they blazed like a fire. Today, they were alone, sitting across from one another with some incomprehensible board game on the table between them. When Adale entered the room, they both looked up.
“Crown Princess,” said Lord Matvei, rising. “Do you need this room?”
“Oh no, not at all,” said Adale. “I was actually looking for you.”
The couple didn’t seem surprised to hear this, but then, they never showed much emotion. Adale closed the door behind herself and took a seat. The two Veravinians continued to watch her, expressionless. She decided not to waste any time.
“Princess Esofi told me something strange last night, just after she slew the dragon that attacked the wall,” said Adale. “She said that it spoke to her, in Sibari.”
Lord Matvei and Lady Yekarina glanced at one another.
“It said the word Rvadron to her,” said Adale. “And she thinks it might be important. Do you know what it means?”
“Rvadron is a title,” said Lord Matvei. “A king, but more than a king. A king over other kings. An emperor. When we speak of Ionnes of Xytae, we also call him Rvadron, and Xuefang of Anora is Rvadrai—that is the woman’s title, and Rvadat is for neutroi.”
“There was once a Rvadron of Siabaeld,” added Lady Yekarina. “He ruled all the nations of Siabaeld, the lands that are now called Sterentand and Veravin and Cilva. But no man has held that title in centuries. Now we have only Zov and Ziav, king and queen, and we are independent from one another.”
“Did you know that the dragons can still speak?” asked Adale. “I thought—everyone thought they’d forgotten how.”
“They are strange, secretive creatures,” said Lady Yekarina. “It makes little difference whether they cannot speak or will not speak, for there is no difference in the quality of silence. Siabaeld remembers a time when they were our allies, but that is past.”
“But they don’t attack your country, do they?”
“We have the gifts granted by Lady Talcia and Lady Avala,” said Lord Matvei, naming the Goddess of Winter who was the Eleventh in Siabaeld. “They know this, and do not trouble us often. And their blood is cold, so the winter makes them sleep. We see nothing of them until midsummer.”
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. But Adale wasn’t ready to bring her findings to Esofi just yet—she had a feeling she could do better. Adale thanked the couple for their help and hurried away, turning the new information over in her head.
The royal library was a place she had only ever visited when she was dragged there by her tutors, but perhaps it held more answers. As she approached the doors, she spared a glance toward the statue of Ethi, the God of Knowledge, just outside. Around the base, a few sticks of incense smoldered, and the offering bowl was half filled with copper coins, sprigs of herbs, and crow feathers. Adale rummaged in her pockets and dropped a few coins into the mix.
Inside, the library was dim and quiet. The front was filled with tables of all sizes, where a few people worked in absolute silence. Farther back was the area where the neutroi librarian-priests shuffled about in their brown robes, repairing old books and muttering to each other. On either side stretched the endless shelves that made up the library collection.
Adale passed the tables and approached the librarians. They all looked confused at the sight of her.
“I need—” began Adale, only to start at how loud her own voice sounded in this place. Trying again, this time in a whisper, she said, “I need information about the dragons.”
One of the librarians stepped forward, a pale and smooth-faced neutroi with short black curls. “I will assist you, Crown Princess. Follow me.”
Down the dimly lit stacks they went, the librarian seeming to know exactly where to go. Then Adale realized she probably wasn’t the first one to ask about the dragons. Her parents or their advisors had surely made the same request before.
After a few minutes of silent walking, the librarian stopped and gestured to a shelf. “Everything from here—” One gloved hand indicated a book bound in faded red leather. “—to here—” A thinner tome, this one more folio than book. “—is what we have about dragons.” The collection wasn’t much, hardly taking up a full shelf. “Beyond this point is wyverns. If you come over to this side, these are the general magical beast books. They might be of use to you if you’re just starting out.”
Adale looked at the first book, the red one, and began to reach for it, but the librarian stopped her.
“Here, put these on first,” they said, withdrawing a pair of silk gloves from somewhere in their robe, identical to the ones all the librarians wore. “Many of these texts are too delicate for bare hands.”
Adale put the gloves on and took the book off its shelf. The librarian still looked a bit anxious, though, and added, “If you sit by a window, make sure you don’t hold the pages in direct sunlight. And…don’t turn down the corners to mark a page. Use this.” The librarian reached into their pocket again, this time withdrawing a long white ribbon.
Adale put the ribbon in the book’s cover, and the librarian left her at last. She went in search of somewhere to sit. She eventually found a musty-smelling but very soft chair in a little alcove and settled down to read.
The book was titled Dragons of the North. The text was old, and many of the words were spelled strangely, though fortunately not so strangely that she couldn’t decipher their meaning. The introduction to the book explained that while there were numerous kinds of dragons in existence, the author would be focusing only on the breed that dwelled in Ioshora and Siabaeld and Thiyra, which he called the Greater Northern Dragons.