Rise of the Dragons (Kings and Sorcerers--Book 1) Read online

Kyra stood in the center of the crowded bridge, feeling all eyes on her, all awaiting her decision for the fate of the boar. Her cheeks flushed; she did not like to be the center of attention. She loved her father for acknowledging her, though, and she felt a great sense of pride, especially for his putting the decision in her hands.

  Yet at the same time, she also felt a great responsibility. She knew that whatever choice she made would decide the fate of her people. As much as she loathed the Pandesians, she did not want the responsibility of throwing her people into a war they could not win. Yet she also did not want to back down, to embolden the Lord’s Men, to disgrace her people, make them seem weak, especially after Anvin and the others had so courageously made a stand.

  Her father, she realized, was wise: by putting the decision in her hands, he made it seemed as if the decision was theirs, not the Lord’s Men, and that act alone had saved his people face. She also realized he had put the decision in her hands for a reason: he must have knew this situation required an outside voice to help all parties save face—and he chose her because she was convenient, and because he knew her not to be rash, to be a voice of moderation. The more she pondered it, the more she realized that was why he chose her: not to incite a war—he could have chosen Anvin for that—but to get his people out of one.

  She came to a decision.

  “The beast is cursed,” she said dismissively. “It nearly killed my brothers. It came from the Wood of Thorns and was killed on the eve of Winter Moon, a day we are forbidden to hunt. It was a mistake to bring it through our gates—it should have been left to rot in the wild, where it belongs.”

  She turned derisively to the Lord’s Men.

  “Bring it to your Lord Governor,” she said, smiling. “You do us a favor.”

  The Lord’s Men looked from her to the beast, and their expressions morphed; they now looked as if they had bitten into something rotten, as if they didn’t want it anymore.

  Kyra saw Anvin and the others looking at her approvingly, gratefully—and her father most of all. She had done it—she had allowed her people to save face, had spared them from a war—and had managed a jibe at Pandesia at the same time.

  Her brothers dropped the boar to the ground and it landed in the snow with a thud. They stepped back, humbled, their shoulders clearly aching.

  All eyes now fell to the Lord’s Men, who stood there, not knowing what to do. Clearly Kyra’s words had cut deep; they now looked at the beast now as if it were something foul dragged up from the bowels of the earth. Clearly, they no longer wanted it. And now that it was theirs, they seemed to have also lost the desire for it.

  Their commander, after a long, tense silence, finally gestured to his men to pick up the beast, then turned, scowling, and marched away, clearly annoyed, as if knowing he had been outsmarted.

  The crowd dispersed, the tension gone, and there came a sense of relief. Many of her father’s men approached her approvingly, laying hands on her shoulder.

  “Well done,” Anvin said, looking at her with approval. “You shall make a good ruler someday.”

  The village folk went back to their ways, the hustle and bustle returning, the tension dissipated, and Kyra turned and searched for her father’s eyes. She found them looking back, he standing but a few feet away. In front of his men, he was always reserved when it came to her, and this time was no different—he wore an indifferent expression, but he nodded at her ever so slightly, a nod, she knew, of approval.

  Kyra looked over and saw Anvin and Vidar clutching their spears, and her heart quickened.

  “Can I join you?” she asked Anvin, knowing they were heading to the training grounds, as the rest of her father’s men.

  Anvin glanced nervously at her father, knowing he would disapprove.

  “Snow’s thickening,” Anvin finally replied, hesitant. “Night’s falling, too.”

  “That’s not stopping you,” Kyra countered.

  He grinned back.

  “No, it’s not,” he admitted.

  Anvin glanced at her father again, and she turned and saw him shake his head before turning and heading back inside.

  Anvin sighed.

  “They’re preparing a mighty feast,” he said. “You’d best go in.”

  Kyra could smell it herself, the air heavy with fine meats roasting, and she saw her brothers turn and head inside, along with dozens of villagers, all rushing to prepare for the festival.

  But Kyra turned and looked longingly out at the fields, at the training grounds.

  “A meal can wait,” she said. “Training cannot. Let me come.”

  Vidar smiled and shook his head.

  “You sure you’re a girl and not a warrior?” Vidar asked.

  “Can I not be both?” she replied.

  Anvin let out a long sigh, and finally shook his head.

  “Your father would have my hide,” he said.

  Then, finally, he nodded.

  “You won’t take no for an answer,” he concluded, “and you’ve got more heart than half my men. I suppose we can use one more.”