The Dragon (Creasan #2)
Chapter 16

The ride in the wagon was anything but relaxing. Every step the horse took jostled Thea hard enough to make her teeth clack against each other. She’d lost count of the number of times her cheek had slammed against Fendrel’s shoulder.

Anai rode the horse in front of them, easily navigating the maze of the streets. Thea and Fendrel sat in between Brom and Janshai on the front bench, and the squeeze was uncomfortably tight. Janshai’s elbow dug into Thea’s side and Fendrel’s continuous shifting nearly poked Thea’s eye out on more than one occasion. Behind them, on the slightly larger bench, sat Isolde, Merek, Carac, Peronell, and Ana. Though they had enough room to fit more people, they were as packed in as Thea was.

They all wore the Qamisian clothes Anai had gifted them, and it made Thea feel as if every eye in the whole of Tamilem was on them. She was dressed in a deep green tunic, with matching pants underneath it, and wrapped in a green shawl which she used to cover her head against the blazing sunbeams. She noticed Isolde had used the extra fabric to shield her strange eyes against any curious gazes.

Thankfully, the fabric of these clothes was lighter than the Creasan ones they’d arrived in, but the freeness of it, the way each twitch of the wind seemed to make Thea’s clothes billow away from her skin, made her feel self-consciously bare.

It didn’t help that she could distinctly feel Fendrel’s skin against hers. Though the men’s garments were made with a bit tougher fabric, their primary goal was still ventilation. Fendrel was dressed in a bright blue that matched the shade of his eyes almost exactly. His pants puffed out a little bit around his thighs, while his shirt’s sleeves didn’t reach further than his shoulders. Of course, Thea’s tunic also hardly had sleeves, but at least she had a shawl to cover herself. Fendrel’s arms were left on full display, and it angered Thea that it took so much of her self-control not to stare at them. She knew he was a soldier. It only made sense that they would be toned and solid. So were Thea’s.

But it was Fendrel’s arm that Thea’s face kept being forced to rest on with every turn of the wagon. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the oppressive heat of Tamilem that his skin felt so comfortingly warm, or if that was just Fendrel.

Thea forced herself to shake away such ridiculous thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Hearing how long and how much Isolde and Janshai had lied to her had shaken Thea profoundly. But they had a job to do. She would save her questions and feelings of betrayal for a later time.

After all, despite these lies, she knew she could trust Isolde. They were bonded like sisters. Though Thea didn’t understand it all yet, she would. That was the reason they were packed in that death trap of a wagon at all.

When Fendrel spoke up, he had to raise his voice to be heard over the crunching of the wheels, and it felt as if it vibrated through Thea, making a slight shiver roll down her back. “We thought we might gain answers there,” he told Anai, gesturing to the large building, still visible even now, resting in the center of the village.

She nodded. “That is the Kaifila Citadel,” Anai answered. “That is where I’m taking you.”

Thea studied the massive building that was getting closer with every second. Even from this distance, it was an intimidating structure which reminded her of the palace in Creasan. Though the palace held a darkness within it that seemed to pulse with foreboding, the citadel frightened her in its unknown. Was Anai taking them to meet their king? Did Qamizeh have a king? What were they meant to say or do when they got there?

Thea glanced at Janshai. “Any advice before we get there?”

“I was only ever in the Kaifila Citadel once, before I was…” His words trailed off and he swallowed hard. “Perhaps things have changed.”

Thea noticed for the first time just how sad Janshai looked. His eyes were blank and his lips turned down at the corners. Ever since Thea had met him, he’d always seemed to have an air of eagerness about him. But now? He looked utterly downtrodden, and Thea didn’t know what to make of it.

Reluctantly, Thea faced forward again.

Through the sheer fabric of her pink shawl, Isolde watched Janshai with concern. Even with the pleasant tinge provided by her eye cover, he seemed extremely sad. She knew seeing anyone from his past was going to be difficult for him, but she found his reaction strange all the same. Surely, he should be overflowing with excitement, not staring sullenly.

“So we’re all just going to ignore the queen’s sword, then?” Merek asked.

Isolde was squished in between him and Carac, with the queen sitting on the edge of the bench on the opposite end, but she was glad that Merek had mentioned the weapon.

Peronell asked, “Do you even know how to use it?”

“It’s a blade, not a riddle,” she responded. “I can figure it out.”

“Fighting is dangerous, Your Majesty,” Carac put in. “Even a skilled warrior can—“

“I do not want your opinions,” she snapped.

“Aestus,” Merek muttered, “what crawled up your arse?”

Isolde studied the queen. Where Isolde thought she’d spotted courage on the ship, there now seemed to be something darker in her. Like despair. Isolde whispered to Merek, “Leave her alone.”

“Just let the Queen of Creasan wield a weapon she doesn’t know how to use?”

Ana glared ahead of her.

“Merek,” Isolde tried again, “just for now. Let her be.”

Merek glanced down at Isolde, meeting her gaze easily. She briefly wondered if it was her fabric shield that made it easier to look at her without flinching.

Isolde still hadn’t had a chance to speak to him alone, like she had meant to. With all the excitement of reaching Qamizeh and the revelations of Janshai’s identity, she hadn’t found the time. Though she wished she had now. She never liked fighting with Merek, especially when it was sparked from what she was sure was the same fear as her own: Not knowing what was happening to her. If she was safe. If they all were.

And Thea’s words echoed in Isolde’s head over and over: “He never left your side.” And here he was, even when they were fighting, at her side. Though she supposed some of that credit should go to the suffocatingly small wagon.

Merek just stared at her a moment. He looked as if he was ready to retaliate with a sarcastic snap, and Isolde was ready for that. More than ready—eager. Verbal sparring she could do. It was better than this tense and foreign lack of communication. She wondered if the truth about Janshai had anything to do with his attitude, as well. Perhaps it had only added fuel to his anger at her.

But after a beat, he simply shrugged and faced forward again.

She should have been pleased. He’d listened to her. But all she felt was a strange sense of emptiness.

Anai pulled her horse to a stop in front of Kaifila Citadel and easily slid off the beast. She didn’t want to miss a single gasp or moment of hesitation from the group of Creasans. This wasn’t exactly what she had expected after speaking with the dragon in Creasan, and she certainly wasn’t about to entrust their safety to this motley group.

Naturally, Anai had expected the dragon himself to come to Qamizeh, to personally vanquish his brother. She didn’t know what to make of sending humans in his stead, one of which was Sepi.

Anai watched him now as he stepped out of the wagon and craned his neck to take the citadel in. She remembered the last time he had been here; she’d seen it in her nightmares for the past six years. She wondered if those same moments were running through his mind right now.

The tightness in his jaw told her they were.

The group stared at the citadel in awe for a moment. It was Merek who aptly gave voice to what they were all thinking: “Bloody hell.”

Anai smirked and gestured for them to enter.

Fendrel looked to Thea who nodded, and he led the way into the large structure, followed by the rest.

Anai tracked Sepi as he was the last to fall in line. Before he could climb the large stone steps, she moved in front of him.

Sepi paused with a look of confusion.

In answer, Anai took Sepi’s hand in hers. She turned it over and opened it, so his palm was facing up. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small velvet bag, and she placed it in his hand.

Sepi’s eyes widened. His hand flipped around to grip Anai’s wrist. She gazed back at him stoically. In their native language, he demanded, “Why do you still have this?”

“What was I meant to do with it, Sepi?” she retorted.

“Sell it!”

“To whom? No one would go near it for fear of your same fate.”

Sepi’s gaze fell to the bag in his hand again, gawking. “But I did it for—“

“For nothing, Sepi. What you hold in your hand has brought us nothing but suffering.” Anai forced his fingers to close around the bag, bringing his focus back to her. She gave him a single nod. “But today, you make it right.”

Sepi blinked. His eyes darted from her to the citadel. Immediately, he shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You will.”

“Anai, those people I arrived with—“

“I don’t care,” she spat. The emotions she had tried so hard to keep in check since first spotting Sepi at the merchant’s stall rose with a vengeance in side of her and she couldn’t help the bite in her words. “I don’t care if you’re scared or embarrassed. I don’t care what you have to tell yourself to convince you to do it—your family, me, shame, morals, whatever it is. You will do this, or I will personally give you the punishment you were meant to have. Understand?”

Sepi just stared back, like his mind had simply stopped working as he tried to make sense of what she was telling him.

But Anai knew Sepi. She didn’t need him to say anything to know he would do it. Anai straightened her spine. “Let’s go. Before your new friends grow more suspicious of you.” And she turned her back on him without even a second glance, leading him into the building of her nightmares.

It took Thea several moments to take the Kaifila Citadel in in its entirety. It had been impossible to truly appreciate the enormity of such a place from the outside.

The domed ceiling stretched at least four stories above their heads, the center of it accentuated with deep black lines that seemed to spell words in the Qamisian language. Windows bordered the circular ceiling, letting light shine in pronounced beams. The walls that sloped down were painted in deep blues and greens, twisting and intertwining to look like vines with thorns. There were even more windows spanning the wall, as if the architect of the building wanted to make sure it was only lit by natural light and not candles.

Thea could see the second floor through arches held up by black marble columns. She wasn’t sure where those halls disappeared into, but she could see vague silhouettes moving around up there. Those marble columns also bordered the first floor, where Thea stood, through which she could see led to a garden.

The floor they walked on was plain tile, and it made each step Thea took echo in the cavernous building. There was nothing else in the room. No chandeliers or tables or chairs. No people. It was utterly empty. Which seemed to be by design, because it forced Thea to direct her eyes forward, to the only piece of recognizable opulence: a bright, shining, gold throne.

Thea turned to Fendrel, whom she saw mirrored her wide eyes and gaping mouth. The Kaifila Citadel was absolutely gorgeous.

Anai walked right up to the throne and turned to wait for the others to reach her. After several moments, they did. “Wait here,” she said and disappeared behind the throne.

Carac whispered to Peronell, “We’re being watched.”

Though those words were meant for Peronell’s ears, it made a chill rush up Thea’s spine. She quickly surveyed their surroundings. Those silhouettes she had glimpsed before seemed to have fully disappeared. Except for their own feet shifting, there wasn’t another sound in the room.

Which just made Carac’s words more disturbing.

Anai returned, followed by a rather large man. Like most men Thea had glimpsed on their ride to there, he had a beard, though his appeared longer than any other she’d seen, reaching nearly to his navel. His dark curling hair was gathered into a bun at the nape of his neck and covered by a full orange turban. A large shining ruby sat in the center of the turban, making it very much look like a crown.

He very slowly rounded the throne, studying the group as his red velvet cloak trailed along the tiled floor. His dark brown eyes were shrewd in his bloated face as he took his seat, his enlarged stomach making it difficult for him to do so gracefully. Thea remembered how her mind had rebelled at the sight of the mildly overweight Favian, unable to comprehend how someone could have so much to eat. Now, she felt as if her astonishment was magnified tenfold. This king must’ve been eating ten people’s daily servings in order to look as he did. He rested his heavily ringed fingers on the arms of his throne and stared expectantly.

Anai faced the group. “Sultanīm, allow me to introduce the Queen and Prince of Creasan, Anastas and Fendrel Lance.”

Thea noticed how Ana stiffened in surprise at being named first. But she quickly remembered herself and moved to the front of the group before lowering into a curtsey. Fendrel did the same, bowing deeply at the waist.

“Your Highnesses, this is the Sultan of Qamizeh, Zaid al-Kaifila.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty,” Ana said regally, reminding Thea very much of her first visit to the palace.

“And I you,” the sultan responded, his voice deep and projected, echoing in the open space around them. “I am told you have come to slay the beast.”

Fendrel answered, “I’m afraid we must replace him first.”

Sultan Zaid glanced behind Ana and Fendrel to the rest of the group. “This is your army?”

Thea stepped forward. “We were chosen by Aestus himself for this fight. We are ready, Your Majesty.”

The sultan coughed a laugh so suddenly that it actually startled Thea, going off like a cannon in the reverberating space. Sultan Zaid looked to a smirking Anai and pounded his fist against the arm of his throne. “Well done, girl. Very well done.”

“Thank you, Sultanīm.” She lowered her eyes humbly.

Ana spoke up again. “You know where Malum is then?”

The sultan grinned. “Of course. But first we celebrate.” He clapped his hands, the sound reaching every corner of the room.

Thea noticed Anai’s eyes were trained on Janshai and it made her frown with curiosity. Then Janshai cleared his throat awkwardly and took a hesitant step forward. “Wait, sire.”

But before Janshai could continue, scantily dressed women carried jugs of what Thea assumed was wine into the throne room, summoned by the sultan’s clapping.

Sultan Zaid eyed Janshai expectantly as one of the servant women poured wine into a golden chalice and offered it to the sultan.

Thea studied the women. Their clothes seemed to be mere imitations of traditional Qamisian clothing—flowing and colorful, but decorative over functional. Their pant legs were split up to the hip, showcasing their legs scandalously, and they wore bras that were made out of beads. No shirts or undergarments. Totally exposed. Such clothes seemed to demand confidence, yet these women kept their heads ducked in submissiveness, barely looking up to make sure they hadn’t missed the cup when they poured.

As Thea was reflecting on the interaction, she realized Janshai hadn’t said anything else. With furrowed brows, she turned to look at him, and found him staring ahead with horrified eyes.

Thea followed his gaze to see he was looking at one of the women standing directly beside the sultan. It was difficult to make out her features beneath the layers of thick makeup coating her face.

The sultan raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Janshai’s eyes darted from the woman to Anai and back again. “Mama?”

The woman looked up sharply and gasped when she saw Janshai. The pitcher slipped out of her hand and shattered against the ground.

Thea felt her own mouth drop open and she heard surprised sounds from the rest of her friends.

The sultan’s smile disappeared entirely and his gaze sharpened. “You are Sepi Fassan?”

Anai spoke for Janshai. “He has come to make amends.”

“Amends?! You are supposed to be dead. And you,“ the sutlan turned to the woman still gaping at Janshai. “What are you doing? Clean this up.” He gave her a shove for good measure, and she lowered shakily to the floor to collect the pieces of the pitcher in her hand.

Janshai turned on Anai with a fire in his eyes Thea had never seen before. “What is this?”

“This,” Sultan Zaid answered, “is my generosity. Which is very quickly fading.”

Thea felt as if things were spiraling in a very bad direction, so she stepped forward and put a hand on Janshai’s arm. “Perhaps we ought to finish one business before starting another.”

“I will not do business with a criminal,” the sultan spat. “I want you all out of my home. Now.”

Thea tried again, “Please, Your Majesty, we have come to help—“

Janshai threw off Thea’s hand and lurched toward his mother, crouching beside her before anyone could move to stop him. “What are you doing, Mama?”

The sultan got to his feet. “That is enough. Guards!”

As if hidden behind curtains of shadow, a sparse amount of guards stepped out from behind the columns with spears drawn.

Thea’s hands instinctively went to the daggers in her waistband as her heart dropped to her feet. Similarly, the rest of her friends brandished their weapons, including Ana with her sword. Thea said, “Please, this isn’t necessary.”

“Mama! Look at me!” Janshai grabbed his mother’s hands and forced her to stop cleaning the floor. Her eyes were wide, like a cornered animal.

“Okay, okay!” Anai stepped forward, arms out on either side, gesturing for the guards to stand down. She turned to the sultan. “Sultanīm, he has something for you. See what it is before you make any rash decisions.” Her voice was sharp when she demanded, “Sepi.”

Janshai couldn’t bring his eyes away from his mother. Very slowly, she dared to raise her gaze to his. Her heavily lined eyes sparkled with tears of humiliation, and she nodded. “Do as they say.” She had a deep, gruff voice, not what Thea had been expecting.

Thea didn’t know exactly what they were talking about, but her mind was narrowly focused on the army surrounding them.

Blinking tears from his own eyes, Janshai turned to Sultan Zaid. It looked as if it took every ounce of willpower for him to lower himself to one knee in front of the bewildered sultan and hold out his hand.

With a frown, Sultan Zaid took what was in Janshai’s hand, which Thea could now see was a small velvet bag. The same velvet as the sultan’s cloak.

The sultan opened the bag and poured its contents out, revealing the bright glittering of a diamond bracelet.

Thea stilled upon seeing it. She knew exactly what the significance of that bracelet must be. She glanced over her shoulder at Isolde, who met her eyes with her own concerned gaze. They were both thinking the same thing: Uh, oh.

Sultan Zaid glanced up from the bracelet to Janshai. “You stole this from my wife six years ago. Bringing it back now—after you had been sentenced to the sea, after she has died—changes nothing.”

Anai said, “He has brought it back simply because it is the right thing to do. Right, Sepi?”

Janshai glared at Anai. “Let my mother go.”

His mother whispered, “Sepi, stop it.” Then she stood, the pitcher pieces collected in her hands, and scurried away.

The sultan laughed mockingly. “Did you hear that, Anai? He wants me to let his mother go.”

Anai fidgeted slightly, and it was the first time since meeting her that Thea saw her confidence drop.

Fendrel piped up. “Sultan, let us discuss the rest of this business in private, shall we? So we might better plan how to save your people,” he said pointedly.

Somehow, that broke through to the sultan, and he turned away from Janshai with a nod. “You are right,” he said. “You and your queen may follow me. Anai, show the others to their rooms, and put Sepi in a cell.”

Isolde started, “Wait—“

But the guards quickly converged on Janshai, and he didn’t fight them as they hauled him to his feet and dragged him away. Anai watched him go with a look Thea couldn’t quite decipher. A mixture between anger and concern.

Thea felt her stomach sink. This was not going the way she had anticipated, and she cursed herself for not bringing more weapons. Despite whatever half-truths or secrets Janshai might have kept, he was one of her people, one of her soldiers. She was meant to keep him safe.

The sultan headed back the way he’d come, behind his throne. Without waiting for further prodding, Ana followed swiftly after him. Fendrel paused to meet Thea’s eyes. He offered her a nod of reassurance and gestured for her to walk before him. Though Thea hadn’t invited, she listened to Fendrel and proceeded after Ana into the sultan’s study.