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I shoot him a glare, mentally congratulating myself for resisting the urge to make a very unqueenlike gesture. “Shut up, Bastian.”
He winks before motioning to a nearby guard.
Within seconds, the guards begin clearing the area of onlookers, their voices firm but not alarming as they direct civilians away from the scene. Most people move on, though some linger, either curious or concerned.
Elijah positions himself at my right, brows scrunched as I recount the near incident with the Devoted. “Should we find him?”
Chewing my lip, I consider what I want. The Devoted threatened me. Or at least, it felt like one. Which is good enough when it’s directed at a monarch. But arresting a member of the Devoted, even an inauspicious one, could spark exactly the kind of unrest they seem to crave.
In fact, that might be his real purpose here. “No, but once you do find him, follow him. Discreetly. Tell me where he goes, who he talks to.”
After I give a description of the man, Elijah and two other guards peel off, disappearing down an alley.
“Time to return to the palace, I think.” Bastian eyes the rest of the crowd. “We’ve distributed all the provisions.”
I’m tempted to argue, not wanting to come across as cowardly, but the encounter has left me feeling exposed. I reluctantly nod.
The trek back passes in a blur of cobblestones and unsettled glances. Bastian keeps close. He doesn’t speak until we’re safely inside the palace walls, away from curious ears. “What exactly happened back there?”
“A power play.” I’m not sure if I’m angry or frightened, and the uncertainty has me twitchy. “He was fishing for information about the decline of magic, but there was something, I don’t know, wrong about him.”
“Wrong how?”
I haven’t told anyone about the distorted message from Althy, but the man seemed to know. How? Are the Devoted so strong they can interfere with the gods’ communications?
I struggle to articulate what I mean without going into detail about my recent vision. “Like he knew things he shouldn’t.”
Bastian’s expression tightens, but he doesn’t press. “The Devoted have been growing bolder. This isn’t the first report of them approaching people in positions of influence.”
When we reach my chambers, I sink into a chair, exhausted despite the early hour.
Bastian stalks over to the side table where a teapot sits warming over a small brazier. “Fusion Root Vine Tea? It might help.”
In addition to hastening a magical merge, the tea is known for its hydrating and soothing properties. Queen Alannah started cultivating the plant in her garden over a decade ago, allowing its power to strengthen with age.
But as I open my mouth to accept the beverage, I change my mind.
No tea.
No hiding in my chambers.
I need something stronger than leaves steeped in water. “Dragons.” I stand abruptly, already excited. “I’m going to visit the dragons.”
Bastian raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. He knows me well enough to recognize when I’ve set my mind to something. “I’ll come with you.”
I nod, already feeling more centered at the thought of the fire paddock, of scaled wings and ancient eyes. If anyone can make sense of what just happened, of what’s going on with magic across the kingdoms, it’s the creatures who’ve lived with it longest.
Besides, no one would dare threaten me when I’m standing next to a dragon.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The late afternoon sun beats down on the fire paddock, sending shimmers of heat dancing across crushed stone and sand. I shield my eyes, scanning the enclosure for Dame and Chirean, but the nesting pair is nowhere in sight. Not unusual. They have eggs to protect, and though I’m still not certain when their young will hatch, I know the time is getting near.
I understand the instinct. Even royal duties can’t compete with the promise of new life.
Something feels different today though. Expectancy charges the air, prickling my skin beneath my riding leathers.
Ryu nudges my shoulder with his snout, nearly knocking me sideways. As the largest and oldest of Tirene’s dragons, he’s usually also the calmest.
