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And even with that, their roots would grow strong, their trunks thick, and their leaves glossy and ready for the dangerous animals that would come to make nests in them.

The dragon swooped low, and split apart into a thousand small dragonets, swirling around and around, cupping the small puff of white feathery seeds in their center as they lifted off, traveling into the distance until they were no more than a blur of orange.

I looked at the pirate who had helped me, and he was staring at his palm, turning it over, frowning. When he spoke Imperial, it was with a heavy accent, his words slow as though he had to remember each of them. “It has been so long since I used these hands for our magic.”

He stopped there, and I wanted to ask how old he was. Did he remember a time before the Imperium had conquered Tavornai three emperors ago?

“Me next,” one of the pirates said, then broke off, speaking quickly in the native elven language. “I remember practicing forest magic with my grandmother. She was beautiful in how she used it.”

I blinked, realizing that somehow I had acquired the ability to speak the elven tongue—whether it had been a gift from the elder tree or it was a development of my own ability to animal speak. I wasn’t sure I wanted to try speaking it yet, but at least now I knew they weren’t able to say anything I wouldn’t know about.

Naî came over, in her human form. She settled cross-legged next to me, leaning against my arm as I showed the next elf what we were doing. As I worked, I could tell how different the pirates were from the elven children. The children had practiced their magic openly, sacrificing easily, as though they had nothing they needed to hold on to.

In contrast, the sacrifices I felt from the pirates were hard-earned, each hitting with more magic than the last. Whatever they sacrificed, it had been dear to them, and I knew the feeling, knew how it was to give away something and not realize how much you needed it until it was gone.

By the time the poisoned dragon returned, we had a collection of seeds for him, and he swept them into the air, cupping the delicate white fluffy seeds with a care. Then he was gone, and Naî frowned after him.

“You trust him?” she asked.

“I trust very few things,” I said. Which wasn’t true. Since I had traveled south, I had been forced to trust more people than I ever had in my life. Before now, trust had been limited to family, and even they were ones I had to protect, not have faith in.

Now, I trusted Tallu and, to an extent, Naî. I trusted my servants—Nohe and the deceased Homisu. I trusted the magic I had learned, because I knew what it did to me, and I knew what it gave me.

“How long will it take?” Spider asked.

“Not long. We put enough magic into the seeds that they should grow immediately.” I wished we were closer to the elder trees. Their roots spread throughout Tavornai, and if I used their magic, if I touched their bark, I should be able to see the progress. But out at sea, their presence was muffled, a voice in a distant room.

Naî made a sound against her teeth, then pushed to her feet, putting her cold hand against my shoulder as she levered herself up. She shifted into her dragon form quickly, only growing to the size of a small dog and wiggling out of her now-loose clothing. Then she launched herself into the air, spiraling up into the sky and leaving behind a trail of frost and snow. She sped off in the same direction as the poisoned dragon.

“Dismissed,” Spider said, and the pirates pushed themselves up, moving more slowly, looking out in the direction that the two dragons had flown. Slowly, they made their way back to their duties, leaving me and Spider alone.

Her eyes nearly scalded my face with their attention, and twin lines formed between her brows. I turned away toward the ocean, watching the other boats, unable to stand the pressure of her attention. Finally, as the waves slapped the side of the boat and a distant bell rang on one of the other ships, signaling the change of shift, she said, “How many types of magic can you practice?”

I pushed my finger into the wood of the deck, feeling the grooves carved in it by the roots of the plants we had grown. They weren’t deep, not enough to damage the wood, but they looked like rivers running down the paneling.

“Ice magic, fire magic, animal speak, and now forest magic,” I said. I hesitated. Naî and Tallu had been confused when I talked about the ocean of power, but Spider was an animalia. Maybe she would know more. “When I first learned the different types of magic, they each demanded different power. But when I attacked General Kacha’s men, I had no magic left to give. An ocean of power opened inside of me, and the anger of the fire magic fed the forest magic.” I hesitated again, unsure I wanted to reveal the newest development, but needing to know. “My animal speak has always been limited to animals. But I am beginning to understand foreign tongues as well.”

“An ‘ocean of power,’” Spider said thoughtfully. She considered me, and I pressed my fingertip harder into the grooves on the planks of wood. “Be careful with such things. They are not the ways of dragons. The One Dragon’s children are limited, to one magic each. Their minds cannot handle more than that. Their bodies cannot handle more than that.”

“What about Sagam?” I asked. “He uses electro magic and forest magic.”

“And his mind fights against both.” Spider’s tendrils snuck out from behind her, one wrapping around the railing as another crept down toward the water. “That ocean of power you felt… Forest magic is the only one that explicitly requires offerings, but that does not mean the others do not require sacrifice of another sort.”

“Are you suggesting I be careful?” I asked incredulously. “I had planned on it.”

“You are not acting as one who is being careful,” she said, pointing to the damaged deck, then up into the sky where the poisoned dragon was returning. “You healed a poisoned elder tree, giving it relief after over a century of pain. You might be afraid of it, but you have gained a loyal ally, although it is not one that I would have recommended to you.”

“I am always careful,” I said shortly.

“You are not,” Spider contradicted. “Tell me again how you are being careful when you surround yourself with enemies and call them allies.”

“Tallu is my ally,” I said, dropping into Northern. “Iradîo is my ally. Naî is my ally.”

One of her tendrils tightened on the railing until the wood groaned under the pressure. Then she released it with a gritted, “Be careful with this new power.”

“Do you know what it is?” I asked.

“As I said, the dragons and humans were only given one magic each. To know more, you will have to talk to the other animalia.” She put one hand on her hip and gazed to the east, squinting into the waves as they reflected the bright sun.