“Why?”
“Because last time they came here, we kept them semi-hostage in the palace while we threw ourselves a fancy party that they weren’t allowed at. Maybe we should throw another fancy party.”
Conrad looked pained. “The coronation was only a few weeks ago, Your Highness.”
“We have to do something to make it up to them.” She was aware she was getting whiny again, but it was difficult to resist. Even the barest flicker of hope of seeing Seth again filled her with giddy, desperate joy. If that took throwing a whole party, then so be it.
“Give it time,” Conrad counseled, his eyes sympathetic. “Let the dragons come to know and trust you as their Queen before you try to turn their lives upside down again.”
“Really? I turned their lives upside down?” She crossed her arms. “What exactly has changed since I was crowned? I mean, truly, Conrad. Before I arrived, you were running things—as a caretaker, I know, I know—and the wolves were angry with us. Now I’m here. You’re still running things as a caretaker, the wolves are still angry with us. Tell me again about the big magical destiny I’m fulfilling? The new world I’m destined to lead us into?”
“The prophecy never said you’d lead us there overnight.” Conrad set his quill down, clearly giving up on doing any more work that afternoon. Well, good. She’d just had an idea.
“Conrad? You’ve got all the keys to the Archives, right?”
And the suspicious but resigned look in his eyes kept her giggling all the way to the palace library.
Lana was surprised by how much she enjoyed taking on a research project, actually. Her father had always despaired of her lack of interest in the ridiculously overstuffed library of dusty old tomes he’d inherited from his own parents and been cultivating most of his life, probably because she associated those old books with the excruciatingly tedious lessons in ancient Draconic he insisted on putting her through when she was small. But now that she was fluent in the language (and receiving regular compliments on how quickly her pronunciation was improving), she found a new interest in the ancient texts.
Part of it had to do with the sheer scale of the palace library. Much like the living quarters, the library extended farther into the rock than she’d imagined at first glance. And while there were a few rooms dedicated to items of historical significance—old magical artifacts, sculptures and paintings and other non-literary works of art—it was clear that the overwhelming majority of the palace’s priceless possessions were books.
Here, she realized as she began to spend more of her days in the library, was where the real work of the palace staff took place. There were always at least a few dragons flitting about, moving books from place to place, performing whatever esoteric rituals maintained them… she couldn’t get a precise number, but there were at least a dozen of them. They treated her with the same stiff, over-formal politeness she’d come to expect from all of her subjects, which made her feel a little lonely, but there was precious little she could do about it now. Not with the crown nestled in her dark hair.
So she turned her focus to studying the prophecy that had brought her here.
She quickly realized why the library staff had looked so amused when she asked for everything on the prophecy to be brought to her. Book after book emerged on squeaky-wheeled trolleys, until the broad stone table she’d sat at was absolutely covered. Clearly sensing that she was a little overwhelmed, one of the staff members leaned forward and asked if she had enough to get started… at her weak nod, the man lifted a hand, turning back another half-dozen trolleys that had been making their way towards her.
Well, she thought faintly. She’d wanted a project to keep her busy, hadn’t she? This was going to do nicely.
And so she began to read. At first, she followed her impulses—whichever book’s cover was most pleasing, whichever archive seemed to have the neatest pages, whichever tome her eyes fell on first. But as the days turned into weeks, she began to develop more specific questions to guide her research. When exactly had this prophecy been made? How had it found its way to her world, to her family? Why did some versions use the word ‘dragon’ for her rulership, and why did some use the less specific ‘shifter’ instead?
It was difficult, of course. Many of the books she encountered were full of fairytales, but it was often hard to tell the difference between fact and folklore. One slender volume went into studious detail about the life cycles of faeries, and she’d been about to charge out into the forest in search of the creatures when a librarian had coughed softly and told her she was reading a book intended for children. After that, she took references to magical creatures with a pinch of salt… though they still fascinated her. Vampires, werewolves, genies, witches and wizards, griffins, wyrms… descriptions of beasts she’d encountered in the folklore of her own world kept turning up in these records. Could it really all just be stories? After all, the humans in her own world had always believed dragons to be nothing more than folklore… a presupposition that dragons had always used to their advantage.
All this was a distraction, of course, from the prophecy she’d come here to research. But as the weeks wore on, she had to admit that the summary Conrad had given her on the first day was pretty comprehensive. There were a thousand different descriptions and commentaries on the prophecy itself, all differing in their interpretation. Her hopes of finding the original text of the prophecy had been dashed early—it had been lost centuries ago, its likely contents pieced together by inference.
“It’s just a bunch of scholars talking in circles for thousands of years,” she said to Conrad one night. “I don’t know how anyone comes to any kind of conclusion about anything.” They were sharing a glass of wine in the offices, a casual commemoration of two months of her rule. She liked these little rituals. It was easy to lose track of time down here, so far from the evidence of the natural cycles of the world. She was beginning to understand why dragons set such great store by ritual and tradition.
“Conclusions,” Conrad said thoughtfully.
“You know—the point of research? You read the information, you decide what it means, you act?” She grimaced, rubbing her forehead. “I suppose that’s not really how dragons operate. More thinking, less acting, huh?”
“We’ve always had the luxury of time,” he acknowledged. “We try to use that to our advantage.”
“Measure twice, cut once, right?” She smiled faintly. “A carpenter friend told me that one.”
“You certainly do have a lot of friends.”
“I did.” She sighed, an odd pang of melancholy moving through her. “I’ve always liked making friends. I don’t tend to keep them for too long, though. Always moving on to the next place, leaving them behind.”
“You’ve been here for a while,” Conrad pointed out. There was a curious look in his eyes. She’d seen it there a few times over the last few weeks, as though he was waiting for an opportune moment to say something. “Perhaps you’re changing.”
“Air signs are famous for that, right?” She grinned. She’d been teasing him less about his interest in astrology lately… she kept encountering references to it in the records she was reading that confirmed its significance here. “Gemini, right? Always changing our minds, never committing to anything… that’s why everyone likes you being here, right? My earth sign counterweight. Keeping me sensible.”
Conrad smiled, more widely than he usually did. “We make a good team.”
“We make agreatteam,” she corrected him firmly. Was that a tinge of color in his cheeks? Had she actually managed to embarrass the stoic Prince with a compliment? This was a red-letter day.
“Speaking of which.” He cleared his throat, and Lana looked up over her wine glass curiously. “I have… a suggestion. A proposition, I suppose. Something that would be good, I think, for the kingdom… something that would build trust in you among the more reticent subjects of the kingdom and enable you to enact more of your vision for the future. Something that would streamline the work I do—something that would strengthen both of our standing, without diminishing our authority.”