Page 109 of Dragon Fight

My viewof the drawing room whirled away then and replaced with another moment. Arabella and I had been in my room and she’d walked around, touching everything with what I now knew was a proprietary eye. She’d picked up flowers I’d cut from the garden, pressing a rose to her nose before tossing it back on my dresser, then pawing through my pile of books before tossing them to one side. Then my jewellery box had caught her attention.

“Oh, this is pretty.”

She’d picked up one of Mother’s necklaces. It was made with semiprecious stones, blue topaz, cut like diamonds, glittering just like the real thing, but the silver setting had meant it wasn’t worth enough to bother locking away in the vault. But I loved it. Mother had bought it back from a trip to the capital once.“These stones are blue as your eyes, my love,”she’d told me and my hand now went to the side of my cheek, as if I could feel her hand caressing it.

“I think it would look quite nice on me, don’t you think?”

I was hopelessly naive back then, and I’d remembered Father’s stern admonitions that I would need to make space for Arabella, to help her to feel welcome and to share what we had with her. My instant response had been no, to try and snatch it away. My mother had given it to me and I had so few things of hers… Arabella turned then, holding the span of topaz against her chest, as if it hung from around her neck, her perfectly shaped eyebrow rising in arch query, assessing.

Would I say no to her? That was what I later learned it meant when that expression crossed her face. Would I dare? My throat had worked, trying to make the come out as I thought through my options. I could offer her something else, something I didn’t hold so dear: but what would Father say? What would Cecily think of me, selfishly hoarding all of my possessions when Father had made it clear that they had fallen on hard times? If I was to be a good daughter, a good sister, I had to share.

Of course that advice was predicated on the notion that sharing would be reciprocal.

I tried to shout at my past self, to say that I should not give her a bloody thing, that she should get a slap in the face for the insolence of picking through my treasures like a woman searching for bargains on market day, assuming all of mine was hers.

And yet giving me nothing in return. At least, nothing positive, nothing worthwhile, nothing of kindness or love.

The vision faded now,and I was bombarded with a rapid flicker of other moments from my life after Cicely and Arabella came to live with us. Arabella’s hand sliding under the table to pinch my leg so hard it later bruised, a radiant smile on her face as she sat for dinner in a beautiful blue dress, complemented by my necklace. Father’s frown as I told him the story, as I showed him the bruise, but giving me little other than mealy-mouthed platitudes about teething pains and adjustment periods. Finding my dresses stained or pelted with mud when they were hanging on the line, but, when called to account, Arabella’s hands were always clean and Father’s eyes became narrowed as he looked at me. Cecily mentioning how she had seen this kind of self-destructive behaviour before in young girls, that jealousy was such a curse.

Father sitting me down to have a series of serious conversations, over and over, the views from the window in his office changing with the seasons, as did my dresses although they were always marked and stained, because I wasn’t to be rewarded for my misbehaviour with new ones. I observed our father-daughter relationship change, as he counselled me, cajoled and then outright ordered me to find a way to live with Arabella and I watched the girl I’d once been as the light in her eyes died.

Some children learn that their parents are not there for them and it's a terrible thing to see. I watched the face of my former self shut down, lock down the emotions that I knew had still raged inside me and then I’d nodded and replied woodenly. From then I’d walked through the halls of the estate house where my family had lived for hundreds of years as little more than a ghost.

My jewellery was stolen, piece by piece. Nadia would frown over each piece’s disappearance. And then it would reappear in Arabella’s jewellery box. Nadia herself was taken away, given to my stepsister for her much more elaborate toilettes and, when that wasn’t enough, little keepsakes were stolen from my room. A book of children’s stories my mother had written a sweet note in. A teddy bear I had kept from my childhood, now moth-eaten and ragged, but still a symbol of her.

And then there had been Lassie.

Father had seen how withdrawn and pale I’d become. Cecily had remarked on it too often, and that had been a mistake. Despite the fact that her comments were on the bleeding edge between cutting and observant, they had alerted Father to my plight, and it seemed only then was he able to see how I was being affected. Not long after, he’d had to go away for business, leaving me to their tender mercies. When he returned, he had something which he thought would solve what he saw as my girlish miseries.

I’d rushedout to meet him as soon as his carriage had rolled into the grounds of the estate, Cecily calling after me, demanding I show more decorum, but I didn’t listen. I hated her, hated Arabella, as did all the maids and Cook and even the workers, with rebellion fomenting every day. So I’d rushed towards the one person who could change this, no matter what my stepmother might say. He’d swung me up into his arms, holding me close, telling me how glad he was to see me before he reached inside to show me a surprise.

“No,” I said, trying to project my voice back across the years, as I watched my father lean into the carriage. “No,” as he brought out a wicker basket. “No, no!” My shouts of warning weren’t heard by either of them, as the past version of myself exclaimed, my hands slapping on my cheeks, my eyes going liquid as I saw her. Lassie was golden brown, small, a perfect puppy, her little tail wagging furiously in response to these strangers exclaiming over her. My heart broke again, because I knew what her ultimate fate would be. Arabella had been waiting sedately, perfectly, standing on the steps to greet Father, but when she saw what I had, her eyes had narrowed, her mouth forming a tight line of displeasure as she marched over, hands out, ready to snatch—

NO!

My voice and Glimmer’s echoed together, as the memory of agonising pain was torn to shreds, bringing me right back to where we’d started. The golden space, and Tanis, and beside her, lying on the ground, tucked into a tight ball, my dragon. I rushed over to kneel beside her, placing my hand on her side and was sucked into her memory.

You will submit!the queen’s voice boomed in my ears, drowning out everything else, her will like a hammer, with my brain her anvil. Over and over the queen’s command reverberated, as Glimmer struggled. Her claws raked helplessly against the interior of an egg shell that no longer existed; she was hemmed in by her memories, not reality. It constricted her limbs, kept her small and tight and her wings fluttered, just wanting to unfurl. She had been forced to regress, go back, become that helpless little hatchling again. I wondered why. I looked around me, searching for Tanis, for anyone or anything to help me understand, but of course there was nothing.

Nothing but me, Glimmer and Raina.

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The queen looked the spitting image of my stepmother, with that same vicious smile, that same deadly intent to impose her will on a vulnerable being under her control. Her dragonstone glowed brighter and brighter, flaring in time with the beat of her heart, the crystal doing its job as an adjunct to power, enhancing the will of whoever held it.

But she wasn’t the only one who held dragonstones.

The egg that Cynane had given me appeared in my hand and suddenly all of Glimmer’s vague descriptions made sense. I needed to stop the queen, so I could. As I stepped forward, the fact that I finally had the ability to do something—a means to try and stop this abuse—was so welcome that my heart sang. And so did the stone. A curious high-pitched humming was emitted from it the closer I got, something I tried to tunelessly replicate. The queen didn’t see me, didn’t respond as I neared her, because she wasn’t here. Just as in my visions of Father, Cicely and Arabella, this was just a memory. Glimmer was locked down in the past. But I could rescue her.

Connection, Tanis said, though I didn’t look to see if she was there.All power in the world comes from connection. From the forming of alliances, to the development of the bond between parents and their children, sentient beings live to connect with others, need it for their survival, and that is where the power comes from.

I didn’t even know what that meant, but I dropped down to my knees, placing my hand on Glimmer’s flank, feeling her flinch. Then I reached out and touched her mind with mine.

You are not a hatchling anymore, I told her.You are a queen.

Glimmer’s eyes flicked open, unfocussed at first, but then they sharpened. And with all of the certainty she usually possessed she said the thing I’d found so hard to hear every time before.

And so are you.

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