But the Touchlands were my home, and we had our own stories.
His name was Hanindred. Hain was not one person, but two. Not Five, but six. Hanindred and Tavedwen, the first Swordblood and Shieldblood, the first twins to rule the Touchlands.
Hanin, a tired word mumbled into my head.
My thoughts had swirled loud enough to wake him.Yes, child. Tavedwen, the Shieldblood. Hanindred, the Swordblood. Founders of the Twin Lands.
Different people, with their own stories and motivations, now erased.
The dragon shifted, uncoiling inside the sling and poking his nose out. His nostrils flared as he took in the scents of the room, and then he blinked. Moon-white eyes stared up at me.
I rubbed his head with a small smile as a tear fell onto my cheek. From my readings, he could not see too far, only able to focus on what was within a few feet of him. He stared at me and yawned. Then he sounded it out, his voice uncertain.Han-in-dred.
Yes.
He seemed pleased at this.Strong?
They were both strong, together.
You, Shield. Tanidwen. Protect me.
I shook my head a little, but smiled.Yes, I will always protect you.
Me, Sword. Strong together.
My smile grew.We will be very strong indeed, little one.
He blinked at me.No. Not little one. I Hanindred.
My heart thudded as I stared down at him.You, Hanindred?
The dragon stretched, and purred.Yes. Together.
My eyes filled with fresh tears. Already, he curled back against me, satisfied with our short conversation and ready for yet another nap.
He had done it. He had named himself. After my history, after my ancestors. After the man whose name was forgotten and erased. I would not let my Hanindred be so easily erased. I held his body close as mine shuddered.
Soon, the Triad would erase another world. A world of silence, nature, and respect. What stories would they rewrite, then? Who would tell their history?
I picked up the dragontooth, its tip as sharp as any blade, and slipped it into the waist of my skirt. Seth was right; if anything were to happen to any royal in the coming days, they would find a way to blame me.
But I would not be caught unarmed, and I would not go down without a fight. Until Hanindred was old enough to be my Sword, I would be his Shield.
34
Lang
Braxthorn was apoplectic when he heard about the proposal. For a moment, I thought he might actually kill Ban, kinship be damned. It was only the ladies’ carriage, travelling only ten or twenty feet behind our own as we headed to the Vidarium, that kept his anger to a normal volume.
My own reaction was practiced laughter, accusing Banrillen of utter stupidity, and I could tell it rankled him. He had wanted to shock me far more than he wanted to shock my father. For all his dislike of book reading, sometimes he read me too well. He could tell I cared about the girl in some capacity, and I knew it was half the reason he had fallen to one knee. I had to ensure he only believed I pitied her, as one might a kicked dog or a sick child.
Yet any time I thought of the sight of her, face bared to the moonlight, dress puddled on the stone slabs as the golden beads rolled away from her… The image of her tear-stained face enraged me, burnt in my head like Stormnoon’s visions. If it was inmy power to stop that happening ever again, I would do it in a heartbeat.
We sat in silence for the final hour’s ride to the Vidarium, and after spending the first discussing my own prospects, and the second hearing my brother get the earful of his life abouthis, it was vastly my favourite hour of the journey.
After the first hour, we were fully out of the breadth of Droundhaven and into the fields and pastures, dotted with the occasional hamlet. Now, we were off the main merchant’s road and onto the old road. Several centuries prior, after Courvin conquered the land under the banner of the Five, the Vidarium had become a proud stronghold, positioned on a hill overlooking the flatlands. Droundhaven had been little more than a port town, then, and the Vidarium’s fortress was the jewel.
It fell out of frequent use two centuries ago, its defensive position over Droundhaven waning as the battles took place further afield and the allyship between Sight and Scent grew enough to leave it at half-mast. Then, over one hundred years ago, Skirmtold burnt it down, killing the handful of men inside and melting half the towers. For fifty years it was left untouched, as if cursed by the dragon’s breath. Until my grandfather Norgallin rebuilt it: restored the towers, carved new doors, and cut back the overgrown trees enveloping its stone carcass. It became the Vidarium, the home of the wyverns. Here, we bred the wyverns and bonded each of them to a selected soldier over the course of a season.