Lieutenant Jenna, the guard who seemed to be posted at Agadart’s “duty station” the most, shook her head. “Are you sure you are not Iskaryyvan? You’re stubborn enough.” She waved for the servant to collect the half-eaten plates of food.

Agadart resolutely kept her mouth shut. Being quiet was something she learned quickly was the best way to avoid problems. No one aside from Duke Paruask had threatened her, but it would not take much for any one of the military guards around her to decide that maybe she needed more physical convincing to shift into her dragon form. Given that she had no dragon form to shift into, provoking them was a risk she could not take.

“You are just delaying the inevitable. When Emperor Rhezv gets here, he will force you,” Lieutenant Jenna said pityingly.

That was the standing threat, actually: that she would be sorry for being stubborn once the emperor arrived. No one told her where the emperor was, but it had been ten days since she had been kidnapped out of the train station, so she figured he had more pressing business to attend to. Either way, she understood the implications. She just shook her head.

“It’s your funeral.” Lieutenant Jenna shrugged and turned to go back out to stand by the door to the shed.

It was definitely going to be Agadart’s funeral since she could not give them what they wanted from her and she could not escape. She was stuck, literally, in a very cold and sparsely furnished prison cell in the middle of the ocean.

At least she was being fed well.

She had also finally been provided with reading material, but most of it was historical treatises on the history of the royal family of Iskaryyva. She had also been given a few volumes of natural history journals which were mostly very boring and technical. She was simply bored senseless.

All the adventure novels of her youth had given her a fanciful notion of what being a prisoner was like, and there were some things they got right such as the dreary surroundings, but what none of them had mentioned was the unrelenting boredom. She was not given anything to write with, and she was not allowed anything that might be repurposed as a weapon such as lead pencils or knitting needles (although she was terrible at knitting, so that was not much of a loss). The wide but narrow vents were high enough not to make for easy viewing, even when standing on a chair. Pacing in a circle to keep warm was not enough activity to engage her mind.

Her only excitement was when, at random points throughout the day, she was hauled out of the cabin to walk around the deck, the guards close by in case she tried to make a running jump off the side, she supposed. Dragons landed and took off, mostly for no purpose that she could tell. She suspected it was part of the absolutely pointless attempt to force her to shift.

Mostly, she sat around reading the materials provided to her, eating small portions of the feasts brought to her twice a day, and lying on her cot, staring at the ceiling while trying not to get depressed. It was becoming a losing battle.

She did manage to scrape marks on one of the boards of the wall, which she had to do each time she ate because that was the only time she had something sharp enough at hand to do it. They counted the utensils when they left, but at least they did not stop her from marking the passing days.

After Lieutenant Jenna and the servant left, Agadart thudded back into her chair with a heavy sigh. She looked at the book sitting on the table, but she was not motivated to return to the dry historical overview filled with dates and names that she was determined would stay meaningless to her. The low-level dread she felt about her hopeless situation simmered in her bones, but there was no outlet for it aside from screaming, and that would simply cause trouble for her. Instead she simply zoned out, listening to the bustle of ships and dragons outside of her prison. Not long after she had been locked up the first day, the entire fleet and the platform were put in motion, so the sounds of the sea and calls of sailors drifting over for the ships surrounding the massive floating platform were familiar. It struck her as she sat there that the noise was more chaotic than usual, but she decided to just to focus on the sounds more intently and let her brain wander.

She had no idea how long she had been sitting there, staring off at nothing, when the door was slammed opened without anyone even knocking first. Agadart blinked at Duke Paruask as he came in. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he looked troubled as he stopped and stared at her for a long moment.

“As much as I personally admire your determination, we are all frustrated by your obstinance, Lady ver Kleelan, and I’m afraid our time has run short.”

Agadart wondered if this was it, the moment when the duke would give up on her and have her body thrown off the platform. They continued staring at each other, and he was obviously waiting for her to say something, but finally just huffed in annoyance and waved in a couple of guards, including Lieutenant Jenna. They tied her hands behind her back and looped a rope around her neck, carefully wrapping around her shoulders like a harness so it would not strangle her. The duke picked up the end of the rope like a leash and simply walked out, Agadart stumbling behind him.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

She had seen the platform when it was busy by peeking out the door when it was opened, but nothing compared to what she saw as she was led across the massive platform. There were thousands of dragons of every size and color in the skies, some in cohesive flights of hundreds, others singular fliers darting around and between the flights. Some landed on the platform even as she and her “honor guard” were crossing it, the vibrations of their landings and takeoffs carrying up through the thick heels of her ill-fitting boots.

There were three large ships with chains towing the platform, pulling it across the ocean like a sled, but she did not get a good look at any of them before she was led into a large basket. It looked just like one of the deep woven baskets she saw gardeners use, only large enough for four people. The guard who got in last closed the gate and secured it, and before Agadart could ask what was happening, two smaller dragons took off, the chains connecting their broad leather harnesses snapping tight just before the basket was lifted into the sky. She screamed and sat down, back pressed against the wall, while the duke and the two guards looked at her like she was crazy. They were all holding on to the tall sides of the basket as if they traveled that way every day.

Fortunately it was a short flight, and soon the basket was thudding down in a bumpy landing. The basket’s gate was once again opened and Agadart was yanked to her feet and out onto the deck of a ship. The basket was pulled away by the small dragons flying off.

It was majestic, a tall ship of the line, and fit for an admiral of the fleet. As she was marched across the lowest deck — one of four levels of outer decks, she noted — she realized with a heavy sense of relief that if they were putting her on a ship, they were not going to kill her any time soon. It was a reprieve for her, no matter what else was going on.

On the deck, the military soldiers were switched out, although the duke kept hold of her “leash.” The new guards were far more ostentatious and ornamental in appearance, their uniforms bright, sparkling green and their epaulettes were wide, sweeping metal wings. A chill ran down her spine as she recognized it from drawings in one of the history books: the Royal Guard of Iskaryyva.

Duke Paruask walked her up a couple of decks, and there, just under the top deck, was the door to a set of rooms. The door, deeply carved and decorated with the symbols of Iskaryyva royalty, could only lead to one person, one man: the Emperor of Iskaryyva himself, Rhezv the Beholder. She stopped, planting her feet on the deck. The leash snapped tight as the duke kept walking, and when he felt it he turned.

“Cold talons?”

“I’m not going in there.”

“You have very little choice in the matter.”

She glared at him. “Allow me to explain: I will not go in there of my own willpower.”

“I can just have you thrown in,” the duke said, amused, gesturing at the formidable guards around them. “It will not be dignified or honorable. You will be treated like a sack of potatoes.”

She shrugged. “How is that any different than I’ve been treated so far?”

He frowned and she yelped loudly as someone picked her up from behind. She was, indeed, treated like a sack of potatoes as the guard entered the cabin and tossed her to the floor. She managed to twist a little so as to not get too banged up or broken when she landed, but not by much. With a groan, she twisted over onto her knees. With her arms still tied behind her back, her balance was thrown off and it took her three tries to get to her feet.

Someone chuckled, and she froze in place.

“Don’t mind me,” said a voice. It was a bit nasally, Agadart thought, as she slowly turned towards where it was coming from.

The emperor himself was a rather plain middle-aged man, with blunt features and small eyes, and straight brown hair that fell to his shoulders. He was of average height yet he commanded the room with his presence and his attire, wearing a long double-breasted red coat beautifully embroidered with gold dragons and roses. Everything about him spoke of fabulous wealth and impeccable craftsmanship.

Agadart straightened up, the lessons in courtly comportment her mother drilled into her coming back in a rush. She bowed, since after all he was emperor of half the known world, but then stood up as tall as she could. “Emperor Rhezv the Beholder, I presume?”

He nodded graciously, and at the flick of a wrist, one of the guards untied Agadart’s wrists and released her from the rope yoke and leash. She took a moment to straighten her gown. It was one of the heavyweight cotton dresses that were too wide and too short, but she did what she could.

“You are Lady Agadart ver Kleelan,” he said. It was a statement, and not a question, but Agadart made sure to keep her mouth shut in any case. “My brother tells me that you have been stubbornly refusing to shift into your dragon form.”

Again, not a question, so she just kept staring at him in the rudest manner possible.

He shrugged, then looked past her to Duke Paruask. “Your own ship awaits.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the duke said as he bowed low. He gave her a final, pitying look before he spun and walked out quickly.

Emperor Rhezv focused on her again, and a chill went down her spine. She ground her teeth together to keep from speaking.

He shook his head and slowly made his way around the large desk he had been standing in front of and sat down. He clasped his hands in front of himself, resting them on the desk and tilting his head a little. She could see the dragon in him then, and it was unsettling, nothing like the warm fire of power she always felt around Rodgardae. Nothing like him at all.

“I’m sorry to hear you’ve been so disagreeable, Lady ver Kleelan. I understand why you might be hesitant to shift into your dragon form at this point, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.” His smile was soft and cruel, and sent Agadart’s instincts to screaming in fear.

She knew without a doubt that there was no way she was getting off that ship alive.