That day I was expected to speak before the conclave. I was understandably nervous. I may have been an outgoing girl, but I’d never been one for public speaking or presentations. Nor had I ever had an audience who might want to literally kill me if I bombed.

  No more dragons had arrived since the previous session, and I’d hoped to use that to delay. Give any potential late arrivals another day to show up, that sort of thing. Unfortunately, Mother informed me that there would be no delay. The conclave had begun, and tradition did not allow any delays except for extraordinary circumstances. More participants potentially showing up was absolutely not among them. It would take something like a volcano suddenly erupting or a major battle taking place nearby — the noise was disruptive, and most dragons would be too curious to focus.

  Mak did her best to soothe and reassure me. I would have loved for her to keep doing that until it was time for me to return to the meeting site, but she was still weak. Not that she would have let that stop her, if she had her way; I had to tell her quite firmly to focus on her recovery and go back to sleep when she started flagging.

  “If you can't sleep while I’m away, there are some translations of Sekteretesh’s letters in that bag” I told her, gesturing to the bag I’d brought when I last returned from Karakan. Her not being able to sleep was more likely than I liked; my emotions were likely to run pretty damn hot. I figured I should provide her something that would let her feel useful. “I know that ancient history is more Herald’s thing, but I think it's best if someone reads them before I do, in case there's something in there that might… upset me.”

  “Of course,” Mak muttered sleepily. She’d started fading as soon as Kira tucked her in. “I’ll… yeah.”

  Then she was out. It was amazing, really. The moment I told her to rest, she’d stopped resisting her constant weariness. I’d told her to sleep, and sleep was what she’d do.

  I watched her fondly for a few moments, then turned to Kira. “If she wakes, make sure she doesn’t try to force herself to stay awake just to read those letters. Only if she absolutely can’t go back to sleep — please remind her of that.”

  “I will,” Kira promised. Then she said, “Do you think… if you have time, could you spend some of it with Zabra and Tammy? Avjilan, too, for that matter. Having you so near but barely paying attention to them… they haven’t said anything, but I know it’s hard on them.”

  What was I supposed to do? Not give her what she’d asked for? I didn’t have long before Mother came to collect me, but I spent it talking to the three of them, asking Tammy about her proselytising and how her regenerating hand felt, letting Zabra blush and gush about Samara — who was clearly the kindest, cleverest, most wonderful young woman in Karakan or beyond — and talking to Avjilan about what he might like to do once everything had settled down, beyond singing and helping out at the inn. Apparently he had some interest in architecture and decoration, and was very excited about the loose plans Mak and Herald had been making about converting Lady’s Rest into an estate for our House.

  It was nice. It made them all happy, and it kept me from thinking about how I still had neither heard nor felt any sign of Instinct. Conscience still insisted that, since Mother could still feel us at all, the final member of our trio must still be with us somehow. Me, I wasn’t so sure. Part of me had come from her, after all. But it was nice to hope, and even nicer not to think about her absence at all.

  But then Mother arrived, and it was impossible not to think about how much more comfortable she’d’ve been if Instinct was in charge and the link between Embers and us was as strong as it could be. Not to mention how much more suited I expected Instinct would have been to speaking to a bunch of strange, adult dragons, some of whom were openly hostile. With Mother backing her up, I had no doubt Instinct could have let them know just what they could do with their ambitions, in a way they’d both understand and not soon forget. With her gone, I’d just have to do it myself. Not speaking simply wasn’t an option. It was bad enough I couldn’t speak Draconic; Mother had made it clear that the other dragons would never take me seriously if I didn’t speak for myself at all.

  We’d talked about what to say, of course. The assumption had been that Instinct would be speaking, but I knew what the main points were, and Conscience had drilled me on it ever since it became clear that our third wasn’t likely to come back anytime soon. I wasn’t happy about it, but I was about as ready as I could be.

  And so me and my aversion to public speaking ended up taking center stage down in the burned-off forum. Mother stayed back as I walked to the center of the ruined square, right in the middle of the mini-territories that we’d all divided the place into. There I climbed the modest mound that marked the remains of the temple or shrine or whatever it was that had housed that giant crystal in the mural. I could almost imagine a thrum of power beneath me; if only I could have drawn on it to boost my courage.

  Everyone could see me as clearly as I could them, thanks to one or more of the others who had seemingly amused themselves by finishing knocking over those of the charred trunks that had still stood the previous day. At Mother’s instruction I stood as tall and proud as I could, to avoid melting in too much against my backdrop of charcoal and ash, but I felt neither proud nor confident. I felt very small under their gazes, and terribly exposed. With the noon-day sun above me, I barely even cast a shadow.

  Gods, I wished I could take another hit from the other giant crystal, the one beneath the palace grounds. That would have given me the extreme overconfidence I needed just then. That, or it would have sent me to follow Instinct into oblivion, which might’ve been preferable to standing there before six fully grown dragons and trying to convince them to piss off.

  Don’t just stand there, Conscience said, and I was pleasantly surprised to hear much more encouragement than scolding in her voice. A short moment of silence is fine, but much longer and they’ll think you’re too scared to talk.

  Not far off the bloody truth, I admitted.

  God, this would’ve pissed Scaly off. She’d’ve said something like, “Cease your cowardice and speak, or give me control and I will!”

  She would, I agreed, and the thought of disappointing our missing third was the final little push I needed. To hell with it. Waiting won’t make it any easier, will it?

  With that I sat up as straight as I could, trying to remember everything I’d ever learned about projecting. And though I didn’t shake the ground the way some of the others had when they spoke, I thought I did fairly well.

  “Kindred!” I boomed out. “I am Draka. I have not yet chosen a name in the style of our kind, as I only recently became aware of the custom. And as you know, I have not yet learned to speak any form of Draconic well enough not to insult you, so I will speak in Tekereteki, which I have been told you all understand.

  “I am not here to defend my claim to this island, because I do not recognize that there is any legitimate contest.”

  That got a reaction, with angry growls of Draconic from almost every camp being met with absolute, earthshaking fury from Mother. Apparently, interrupting the speaker was not a done thing.

  “The island is mine,” I continued, forcing myself to appear unaffected by the interruption. “That is all there is to it. It belonged to my father, He Who Darkens The Night, and I have not left it for more than a day or two since he died. That I was kept asleep and unchanging by some enchantment for all those hundreds of years means nothing. That you had some petty scuffles and agreed among yourselves not to attempt to steal what was not yours to take, means nothing. I am here. I have always been here. My possession stands unbroken.”

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  In her corner, Behold Her seethed. Great clouds of coal and ash billowing around her as she paced, lashing her tail. Gods and Mercies, but she was pissed off beyond belief. Fine, I thought. She could sit and spin for all I cared.

  “Nor have I been an idle steward since my awakening. I may be young, but in less than a year I have imposed my will on the humans and the monsters of this island. They have paid me tribute, and in turn I have placed them under my protection. I have broken armies and fleets to prove my might to human invaders. Do not think that I am unwilling to do the same to you. You think me weak and easily cowed because of my youth. You are wrong. Attempt to fight me, and I will make your lives unending misery. Nothing you love and treasure will be safe. Even if you should drive me away from what is mine, I will only melt into the shadows and appear when you least expect it, to steal and kill and destroy. Any flock you gather, I will slaughter. Any hoard you gather, I will pillage, and if I cannot keep it safely, I will scatter it across the sea. Not even your sleep will be safe. Close your eyes, and you will wake with your lungs full of venom, if you wake at all.

  “That said, I do not intend to be entirely unreasonable. I might possibly be persuaded into giving up some portion of my territory, if I am adequately compensated. I will be open to receiving offers. But this I swear on my hoard: try to steal what is mine, and I will hound you until you are driven mad, or one of us perishes. And you will find me far more difficult to kill than you could possibly imagine.”

  I made sure to look straight at Behold Her when I said that. The glare I got back just about made me mess myself, and it was all I could do to turn what I desperately wanted to be a headlong flight in under Mother’s wing into a dignified walk back to her side.

  “That was well said,” Mother rumbled softly when I arrived. “You will have taken them by surprise. Such ferocity in one so young will have taken them by surprise, and perhaps made them reconsider.”

  “You do not think I was too arrogant?” That had been my main concern — that I’d sound so conceited that I’d make them more likely to choose violence. Instinct had been adamant that the prouder we sounded, the better, but that was based entirely on what she felt that she would respect. She had no more experience with other dragons than I did, vaguely remembered first years aside.

  “Perhaps, but I do not think it will be to our detriment. In truth, I find it reassuring to see such a display; your thread may be weak, and that concerns me, but your spirit is strong. As for how the others will react, I believe that Behold Her And Know That All Things End will not be swayed by anything save force. Splendor will be amused at worst, since he has no interest in taking anything from you. The Unquenchable Flame At The Heart Of The Mountain and As He Moves, So Do The Trees Quake, they will not dare lay a clutch on this island so long as you live — which, admittedly, may spur them to violence, but they know they would have to contend with me as well. That leaves The Winds Weep To See His Grace and The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence, who have shown themselves likely to be willing to talk. The question is what they may be willing to offer, and if it will be agreeable to you. But hush, now. Splendor is preparing to make his response.”

  The round of responses, which took far too long, came mostly in Draconic, which Mother had to translate for me, and went just about, if not exactly, as she’d expected.

  Splendor was amused, if somewhat patronizing. I didn’t appreciate that, but could understand where he was coming from. What I had done was the equivalent of a toddler declaring herself queen of her county, and I couldn’t blame him for not taking me entirely seriously when he had almost no skin in the game beyond an interest in my mother.

  The young mated pair whinged and blustered. They insisted that I had far more territory than I had any need for or could possibly make use of and that it would be a wasted opportunity not to invite them to take over a part of it, but they didn’t go so far as to make any explicit threats. I wondered if they might make me an offer; Mother thought it unlikely.

  Behold Her And Know That All Things Must End was predictably furious. She rejected my right by inheritance to the island entirely; as she saw it, since I hadn’t been present at the conclave that determined that the island would belong to no one I’d passed up my chance to argue for retaining my ownership peacefully. I had no more claim to it than anyone else, and I had violated the pact. If I would not allow the island to be divided peacefully, then she would remove me and do so herself.

  Notably, she never suggested that the pact should remain in effect. She wanted this island, or at least a chunk of it, and she was not going to let it slip through her claws this time.

  It was The Winds Weep To See His Grace who deviated somewhat from expectations, both in what he said and how he said it.

  Grace chose to speak in Tekereteki, rather than Draconic, and he kept himself short. “I have heard your arguments,” he said, his words rolling smoothly across the field of ash. “I have little interest in any right by inheritance to this territory. Though my ally, The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence, argues that it may be valid, it is a strange custom and rarely invoked. However, I do recognize your right by might. Your claim is backed by Sower of Embers, Reaper of Flame, who is beyond any doubt the most powerful by far of us here. I am unashamed to admit this — it is as clear as the mountain springs. One might argue that she will have to leave one day, to either tend to her hoard or move it here, which would leave you vulnerable, no matter your boasts. It matters not. She would return in short order, and visit vengeance upon any who had harmed you. However, I still greatly desire a part of this island to call my own. Expect my visit tomorrow morning.”

  Well, The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence had called him direct. I couldn’t argue with that. I didn’t appreciate that he’d dismissed the idea that I had any right to my territory except those that Mother was willing to defend, but he’d also recognized that she was eminently capable of doing that. I still wasn’t interested in giving up any part of my island unless I got one hell of an offer, but I figured I could at least listen to him.

  The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence himself was the first to accept my claim to the island by right of inheritance, though he also held that my absence from the conclave that established the pact complicated things. He also felt the need to point out that rights could only be upheld so long as they were defended, which I thought was rather an arse move of him.

  “He no doubt wishes to emphasize your reliance on strong support,” Mother pointed out once she finished translating — Presence had not followed Grace’s example by speaking a language I could understand. “It is a reasonable maneuver, if his goal here is to secure a territory for his ally in exchange for promises of protection.”

  “He still did not need to undermine me like that before the others, if he wants my friendship.”

  “Friendship is secondary to mutual benefit,” Mother replied. “Besides, dear daughter, you are a child. Why would you expect him to desire your friendship?”

  Ouch, Conscience muttered. I mean, she’s not wrong, but she could have been nicer about it, yeah?

  “I will not always be so little,” I grouched back at Mother, ignoring the voice in my head. I didn’t care that they were both right. I may not have been Instinct, but I had my damn pride, and being dismissed like that had me more than a little resentful.

  “You will not,” Mother agreed. “But even one as precocious as you is unlikely to be the same as you are in a hundred years. He no doubt thinks it best to do what serves him and his ally best now, let any resentment cool with time, and get to know you once you’ve matured. But settle, now. I am trying to follow the discussion.”

  What discussion followed wasn’t particularly interesting. Mother barely bothered to translate, telling me that it mostly amounted to accusations and insults being slung back and forth. Most of that was between Behold Her and Grace, though Unquenchable and Quake, the mated pair, joined in now and then as well.

  “Why did you not translate more?” I asked after it finished, and the conclave was dispersing. It had gone on for approximately forever. I hadn’t expected to be bored by dragons roaring at each other, but there I was.

  “The words were unimportant,” Mother replied. “But the implications are not. The Winds Weep To See His Grace and The Sun Need Not Rise In His Presence have positioned themselves as guarantors of your claim. No doubt they hope to make you more inclined to negotiate by showing willingness to take risks to support you. And make no mistake: by opposing Behold Her And Know That All Things Must End, they have taken a great risk.”

  Of that I had no doubt. If any dragon deserved to be called a monster, it was Behold Her. And Mother was probably right; they were trying to get me to see them as allies and defenders already.

  It was bloody well working, too. As I watched them patrol the sky, taking pains to keep themselves between my three enemies and the palace, I couldn’t help but think that it would be nice to have some more friends on this island with actual power.

  Ugh. I didn’t like it, but if they could manage not to piss me off entirely, and to convince me that I could rely on them in a crisis, I might just end up giving away some of my mountains.

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