The brothers fell silent, although Heath could still sense the slight smirk on Percival’s face. He rolled his eyes at no one in particular, reminding himself that he was supposed to be the reliable one as he cast his eyes over the crowd lining the edges of the large courtyard. He turned his attention back to the king’s customary speech.
“And we are honored to mark the passing of another year of peace with our allies.”
“Ah,” muttered Percival, straightening slightly. “Now it gets interesting.”
“Maybe to you,” Heath whispered back. “But some of us have actually seen a dragon before.”
“No need to get high and mighty, Dragonfriend,” Percival started, but at another glare from the duchess he fell silent. He would likely have done so without his mother’s intervention, because a moment later a furious wind swept the courtyard where they stood, setting the pennants above the castle flapping frantically.
As if to mimic the wind, a hushed muttering spread over the gathered crowd. And for all his talk, even Heath couldn’t help but be impressed—and a little intimidated—by the sight of half a dozen dragons descending on the courtyard, right on cue.
The winged reptiles were enormous, filling the entire square. The sound of their talons touching down on the flagstones below was like metal on glass. Despite his repeated exposure to Reka, Heath felt an involuntary shiver of fear pass over him. Reka was so large compared to a human, it was easy to forget that, as an adolescent dragon, he was much smaller than most of his kin.
The dragon in front of the group was five times larger than Reka. His size showed his age, as did his deep burgundy color, so much darker than Reka’s bright scales.
“Greetings, King of Men,” the dragon said, inclining his head ever so slightly toward King Matlock, where he stood on a raised platform at one end of the castle courtyard. “We come to celebrate our peace.”
Heath’s eyes passed over the dragons, and he gave a start of surprise. He hadn’t noticed the smallest member of the group at first, but there was no mistaking the familiar form. Reka was looking at Heath, and when their eyes met, the dragon flicked his head slightly to one side in a gesture of greeting. Heath smiled back, intrigued. Reka had never joined the ceremony before, and Heath wondered whether it might be a sort of rite of passage for the young dragon.
The burgundy dragon was inclining his head toward another one of the group as he spoke.
“I speak for the colony on Wyvern Islands, and my brethren represents the colony at Vasilisa.”
At his words, a medium sized dragon moved forward, his scales still fairly bright in hues of purple, green, and blue. He dipped his head in recognition of King Matlock, but his eyes quickly searched the royals arranged around the king for another face.
“Jocelyn,” the dragon said, extending his enormous head toward Heath’s grandmother. “Greetings.”
The elderly Kyonan princess smiled, moving forward to lay a hand briefly on the dragon’s outstretched snout.
“Hello, old friend,” she said softly. “I am glad to see you.”
“And I you,” the dragon said solemnly. He turned his attention back to the king.
There was no sign of emotion on King Matlock’s face, but Heath noticed a few of the nobles wearing slightly sour expressions. It seemed they did not appreciate the display of loyalty shown by the dragon toward the power-wielding, Kyonan princess rather than her nephew, the king.
“King of Men, my name is Elddreki, and although I dwell now on Wyvern Islands, I bring greetings from Vasilisa, in Kyona’s mountains. We are glad to be at peace with our human neighbors from both kingdoms.”
The king bowed, and the dragon dipped his head again. At the talk of peace, Heath felt a new sense of appreciation for the familiar ceremony. It was merely symbolic—it wasn’t as though Valoria had ever actually had war with the dragons, and if they ever did, the mighty beasts would wipe the human kingdom out with ease. But there was value in remembering the relationship between them.
And as much as some might resent the deference shown to Heath’s grandmother, they should be grateful to her. She was the first true dragonfriend Valoria had ever had, and it was only since her arrival in their kingdom that the Flame of Friendship had existed. After all, it wasn’t as though the dragons really had anything to gain from declaring peace with the kingdom of men whose land they shared, or anything to lose from being at enmity with them.
If what Heath’s grandmother had told him was true, it was entirely due to Elddreki’s influence that the dragons had decided to formally mark their pre-existing peace with Valoria. And that influence had been exerted purely on the basis of the unusual friendship between Elddreki and Heath’s grandmother. His thoughts grew somber as he remembered the other part of his grandmother’s explanation—or more accurately, warning. By renewing the ceremony annually, the dragons had a very simple way of withdrawing from the declaration of peace without going back on their words. They needed only to let it lapse.
Heath had assumed that Elddreki, probably the best known dragon in Valoria, would undertake the rest of the ceremony, as he had done every year within Heath’s memory. But instead, he stepped slightly to the side, revealing a yellow female dragon of a similar size to himself, and Reka beside her.
“My offspring, Rekavidur, would be honored to speak.”
The king turned to Reka. If he felt any surprise at the change, he masked it in his usual expert way.
“Greetings, King of Men,” said Reka, in the formal cadence of the dragons. “I am Rekavidur, and I am honored to have been chosen by my colony to renew our symbol of peace.” King Matlock assented with equal formality, but Rekavidur wasn’t done. To Heath’s astonishment, the young dragon turned to him. “Greetings, Dragonfriend,” he said, and another murmur passed through the crowd.
Heath felt Percival shift beside him at this serious—and extremely public—use of the title he had flippantly thrown at his brother minutes before.
“Greetings, Rekavidur,” said Heath, after a moment’s stunned silence.
He had no idea what, if anything, he was supposed to add, but apparently Reka was satisfied. The dragon turned away from Heath, to the castle’s entrance. He pushed from the ground, a rushing wind sweeping around the courtyard as he took to the air. Within moments, he was hovering above the stone basin, in which the flame was flickering. The fire was as faint as Heath had ever seen it, given that it had been a year since its last replenishment. The magic was designed to keep the Flame of Friendship going for only a year at a time, so the dragons and humans could renew the symbol of their peace annually.
“May our warmth sustain you in the dark of winter,” Reka said formally.