7.5

Jewel’s hatching day had come shortly after the longest night of the year.

She did not really recall it very clearly. Thoughts and feelings were muddled so tightly together for most of her first year that nothing in particular was certain.

But she had known the scent of Mother before she even opened her eyes.

Father had come next and in so doing she had recognized her brother as being both of theirs.

Before words had given clarity, before she could even reliably move or hold herself aloft on Wyrmflame, Jewel had known her family.

The year’s Last Night and the march the day before always brought her family to mind. Partly because today, they would all walk together, Mother and Alexander bundled in their finest winter furs and heavy cloth, Father in his lighter leathers and a fine wool cloak.

But breakfast was less peaceful than usual.

“What do you mean I can’t go?! Everyone over ten winters old in the village can go! This is my eleventh winter!”

Jewel winced a bit inside at that. She would almost certainly never get to participate in the festival of fires like her brother wanted too. A dragon, no matter how carefully covered, could never wear the shrouds and garments like her peers.

Not able to move from house to house and dance with her fellow kinder and offer the carols of the dark. Nor speaking for the dead long since stolen to the frosted icey stars that hang in the sky and the frozen winds of the peaks.

Never able to receive the sweet cakes and honeyed jerky treats offered in return for a task well done.

But Alexander could pass easily amongst them if he wanted. He was not yet growing to a height to match Father. He could be mistaken for a boy perhaps two years his elder among the villagers.

Mother had forbidden it. Alexander was the one and only heir to Rochford and going off in disguise amongst all the villager’s children without any guard was a terrible risk for his person.

But then again, that gave Jewel an idea.

“What if Smithson went with him?”

That stalled out the argument that had circled over their breakfast porridge several times now and left Alexander’s half eaten and going stiff and gel-like with cold.

It actually caught Mother off guard a moment.

“The sta-I mean your Squire?”

Jewel nodded hard.

“He is honorable and loyal and has served me well on our trip to meet with the Countess and back. I’d trust him to look out for my Brother.”

She did in fact think that well of Smithson, even if it had taken her a long time away from home to conclude it. She’d satisfied her worry that he was hateful of her for taking him from his duties.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

In truth, he was ecstatic to serve as everything a Knight might want in a Squire.

Sadly Jewel was not anything like a Knight.

But he would do this service for her at just a whisper of her request.

Father, seeing an opportunity to bring peace to their household and an end to an argument that had been stirring and flaring through all of winter, also nodded.

“Smithson and one of Gierolt’s grandsons can watch Alexander and join him for the Festival of Fires. Furthermore, word of his presence among them will be good for the village, the winter has not been easy on them.”

Jewel nodded sadly.

The winter storms had been cruel this year.

One of the households she had gone to visit had been cold and quiet in the morning just ten days ago. Inside the small family of younger sisters and elder brothers (no parents, no elders; they were lost three and then two years ago) were frozen huddled together in their bed together.

They had firewood in their stock but the burnt ash in the hearth spoke to her that in the depths of the night when all were asleep it had gone out.

The thatch in the roof spoke of the winter wind tearing loose patches at the rim and letting in its hungry teeth.

Their larder was still stocked.

They had hardly failed in any one duty. Just not as diligent and wise as age would have made them.

An entire household of seven lost. Two boys just growing into their strength and unready for spouses.

Five girls not yet blooded.

Jewel shook the memory free of her head. The Village of Rochford could indeed use something to help raise their spirits after news of that loss had spread.

And well if that could be done by letting Alexander dance and sing the words of the dead with the other shrouded boys and girls in disguise during the Festival of Fires?

That turned indulging her Brother’s desires into a duty performed for the Family.

And Mother would not disagree with Father on those grounds, especially after two guards had been secured for him.

“If proper protections can be secured, then I suppose it is a noble duty. Is it the Bolemir boy or Ginterson you are thinking of escorting him?”

Father hummed a moment then nodded.

“Bolemir is better, he’s closer to Alexander’s age and will stay sharp, I believe. Ginterson might be bigger and older but he’s so smitten with the Helina girl I suspect he would lose track of our boy. They will aim for marriage at the close of next hungry summer I suspect.”

Mother nodded at that.

“Most likely, unless their bloom turns sour...”

She shook herself out.

“Well if you are to join the carols you will need proper shrouds. Smithson and Bolemir will need to be summoned as well. Have them bring their masks and chosen shrouds as well.”

Alexander whooped and was already standing but Mother’s voice cut in with an ice that Jewel imagined must be what winter felt like to those without a body coursing in Wyrmfire.

“You will do so after finishing breakfast!”

And then the family sat there watching Alexander eat. Their own bowls long since emptied.

But where before he had prodded and picked at it, her brother was now devouring the near cake like jellied mass of his porridge like it was the sweetest of cakes.