Agadart woke up slowly, her mind fuzzy and confused. The last she remembered was crashing into the water, her body too big and unwieldly for her to swim properly.

That thought was like being doused with a bucket of cold water — the emperor, Rodgardae, manifesting as a dragon, war, Mani…memories collided over each other, crashing around in her brain. Panicking, she sat up quickly, but that was its own mistake as she suddenly went dizzy.

“Agadart! Shhhh, shhhh.” Warm, strong arms wrapped around her and a soothing presence flooded her mind. Rodgardae.

“Ro?” she whispered, closing her eyes and resting against his chest. She could tell they were both naked under the blankets, the skin-to-skin contact grounding her wildly beating heart.

“Mmm.” he hummed, pressing his head against hers.

She shifted a little and realized that there was someone else next to her. “Mani!” Her eyes flew open and she looked down at her other side.

Mani was lying there, frowning as he blinked awake. He opened his mouth to say something and started coughing. Rodgardae and Agadart helped him to sit up and rubbed his back while he hacked and gasped for air.

“Your Majesty?” There was a short knock on the door.

Agadart frowned. That sounded like—

“Come in, Lady Bertrag,” Rodgardae said loudly.

The door flew open to Agadart’s cousin walking in, and Agadart could only stare at her. She was not dressed in the uniform of the Dragon Maids Corps, and was instead wearing a smart suit with a long, flowing skirt and a fitted jacket, much like the ladies of the Isle of Watt were known to prefer. Behind her a sailor carried a tray and set it down on a table next to the bed.

“Your Majesty; Your Highness; Your Highness.” She gave each of them a short bow in turn. “Doctors Worthan and Thorrein have medicine they wish all of you to take upon waking.” She gave Rodgardae a stern glare. “Including His Majesty the king.”

“I’m doing well, I— ”

“Including His Majesty the king,” she repeated, picking up one of the mugs and passing it over Mani and Agadart to hand it to him.

“The king?” Agadart asked, frowning, as she tried to remember what happened. “When did you become king?” She pulled the blanked up further to cover herself. Mani just shook his head and gratefully took the medicine and the glass of water Bertrag handed him.

Rodgardae stared at her.

“When you became queen, cousin,” Bertrag said, shoving a mug at her.

“Hey,” Agadart protested, although not with much heat. She felt like hell. “Wait. When I became queen?” She lowered the mug she had been handed, looking out the bank of windows the built-in bed platform was nestled up against, but unseeing, lost in thought. “I became queen.”

“Yes, you did,” Bertrag said. “Now drink your medicine.”

Agadart obediently drank down the contents of the mug, gagging a little at the foul smell. Remorselessly, Bertrag took it from her and put it back on the tray, along with Rodgardae’s and Mani’s.

She glanced between Mani, who looked like he was still recovering from the coughing fit, and Rodgardae, who at least was looking mildly abashed.

“The emperor was right?” She felt her panic welling up again.

Rodgardae folded her back into his arms. “What did he tell you?”

“That…that I was the queen of Watt. That my ancestor was Princess Beatra.” She shook her head. “He was a madman.”

Bertrag folded her hands in front of her. She was wearing her salt-and-pepper hair in a long braid over her shoulder, and it was weird to see it down in such a fashion as would never be seen in Kaaltendt. “He is, but that has little to do with what he told you, which is true.” Her voice softened. “It is an old legend in our family, handed down by word of mouth. It is my understanding that your father did not believe it, and refused to let anyone share it with you.”

Agadart looked back at Rodgardae, who nodded. He launched into a long, rambling story about her long-lost uncle who brought a Khzern giant with him to rescue her but how she manifested while on the deck of the emperor’s flagship, becoming queen of Watt and leading them to a victorious battle that cost them dearly but sent the Iskaryyvan forces fleeing along with the body of their emperor, who might be dead but no one had confirmed that as yet.

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When he finished she stared at him for a moment and then turned to Bertrag. “Is he insane? Are we safe?”

Rodgardae frowned. “The emperor? Clearly. But yes, we’re safe; the Iskaryyvan forces have been in full retreat for days now.”

“I meant you,” she said, glancing him out of the side of her eyes.

Bertrag rolled her eyes. “He’s quite sane. The whole story is true.” She took a deep breath and then bowed. “I have abandoned Kaaltendt and Queen Theaedra, and my place among the Dragon Maids Corps. I swear fealty to Queen Agaedae of the Isle of Watt, along with her King Rodae and their guardian, Manae.”

Agadart felt her mouth open and close several times. Mani shrugged, sipping at his glass of water again.

“Oh, we’re all here? Grand!” A tall man with shocking white hair collected up on his head in a riot of braids walked in without knocking.

Agadart did not know him, but recognized him immediately as he looked like a taller, older version of her father. “Uncle Hrecht?”

He smiled at her, the fondness of it offset by the wild swirl of fire in the irises of his eyes. “Hello, Niece Aggie. It is such a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“Can you not leave us alone?” Rodgardae grumbled. Agadart grabbed his hand instinctively and squeezed it.

“I admit I’m not used to having company while I’m undressed,” Mani said with a croak.

“That’s of no importance, we’re all dragons here. Or, well, dragonkin.” He nodded regally at Bertrag and Mani. “I came in to see for myself that you are recovering well. I will be passing over Kaaltendt soon and will stop in to talk to your father to let him know of your circumstances. Although I expect he will be finding out soon, regardless.”

“My father!” Agadart sat up further. “What will you tell him?” She turned to Rodgardae. “Can I send for him? Is he allowed to come visit me?”

“My dear niece,” Uncle Hrecht broke in. “You are the dragon queen of Watt. Their first queen in eight hundred years. I suspect anything you ask for, you will receive.” He spoke kindly but firmly, and somehow, for the first time, the implication of his words sank in.

“I’m the dragon queen of Watt.” She put her hands over her mouth. “Bertrag! What do I do? What do I do?”

Bertrag stepped up and started tucking the blankets more securely around the three of them. “You do your best, cousin. You remain a child of the ver Kleelan line. You will excel.”

Uncle Hrecht nodded agreeably. “I agree. However, such as it is, I am also here to give you my well wishes. My liege calls to me, and I must return to her side.”

“Your liege?”

“And she is?” Rodgardae asked at the same time as Agadart voiced her question.

“Oh, I thought you would have figured that out by now.” He took a deep breath, swelling up in obvious pride. “My liege is the esteemed Princess Beatra, lost to the crown of Watt, rogue dragon and defender of the Westlands.” He bowed, turned on his heel, and walked out.

“I hate him,” Rodgardae muttered while Mani laughed so hard he started choking again.

Agadart looked up at Bertrag, who just shrugged, picked up the tray of empty mugs, and walked out. Instead of getting any more answers, she was left to sit with the reality of everything that had happened over the past…week? Month? Year? Or did it really start that night five years prior when she was going over the household books and found some well-hidden discrepancies? How long had her life been in free fall?

“Agadart?”

She looked up to see both Mani and Rodgardae looking at her with worried expressions. It was Rodgardae who had spoken, so she focused on him for the moment. “I’m…I’m not sure how I feel about any of this. I barely remember manifesting…just flashes of seeing you, seeing you…fight…” She felt the tears welling up and scrubbed a hand over her eyes. Mani scooted closer, humming a little and slinging an arm over her shoulders. “Seeing you fight the emperor was so upsetting and I got so mad.”

“Dragons have manifested for less than that,” Rodgardae said softly, taking her hand in his.

“But I had no idea I was a dragon! I spent the whole of my captivity thinking I would be killed when they found out I wasn’t! But then I was!” She stopped yelling and took a deep breath. “Now I’m a queen dragon? And of a foreign land, at that.”

“Hmmm.” Mani leaned his head against hers. “Is it so foreign, though? Stop and close your eyes. Focus on our connection. Think about it as the strongest center of a wide web. Feel out its edges.”

She closed her eyes and did as he asked, and immediately the entire landscape and population of the Isle of Watt appeared for her, a living, breathing connection to the land and the people in it. It was like being at the center of a web, but also like being the beating heart of a massive, majestic creature. The land had been empty of a queen’s magic for so long that it was parched and desperate, so she poured all her love into it. It felt like taking a deep breath of air after coming up from the bottom of a lake.

“Oh, my beloved, yes. My queen,” Rodgardae whispered, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

She felt the fire of her strength and power running through her nerves like electricity. Her king fed into that with his own magic, pulling and pushing at her as they braided their combined strength into something unassailable. Next to them, within them, Mani grounded them and pulled on their metaphorical wings, keeping them centered in their draconic humanity, the epitome of a guardian.

Agadart breathed in, smiling, as the connection was reinforced by the entwined energy of the three of them, together creating a perfect aerie.

Around the ship that she now knew was heading back to Watt, she heard hundreds of dragons calling out in joy and surprise — her people, her reign — celebrating the news:

Queen Agadart of the Isle of Watt was coming home.