1
Reyna
Two somethings thudded onto the roof of New Leaf Tomes and Tea, which meant Reyna’s day just got more complicated.
The wooden roof wouldn’t collapse—not with an elemental mage living here, threatening it daily—but Reyna flinched anyway. Hot water from the copper kettle she held splashed onto the polished wooden counter, missing the mug and burning the back of her hand. She hissed, pressing a hand to the angry red splotching rose-toned skin.
Meanwhile, dust misted from the rafters, settling on the wide leaves of exotic plants, shelves of books, and the building’s patrons. Several folks covered their mugs of tea, glancing at the ceiling in exasperation. A young couple nestled in the comfy armchairs near the fireplace craned to look at Reyna.
“Should we be worried?” one asked.
“Of course not.” Reyna dipped a rag in cool water, easing it against the mild burn. Mentally, she counted: three, two, one—
“Did you hear that?” Kianthe slammed out of the back storage room, where she was supposed to be blending new teas. Teas they’d need for all the guests who would be showing up for their wedding. A wedding that was happening six days from now.
Gods, planning a wedding was so much more stress than Reyna expected. She didn’t often feel frustrated with Kianthe, but a spark of it flared in her soul now.
Reyna closed her eyes, drawing a fortifying breath. “Dear—”
“They came back! Maybe they’re following my magic? Or they just love Ponder…” Kianthe danced in a circle, squinting at the ceiling, dark eyes alight. If Tawney’s ley line had been any stronger, her magic would be sparkling in anticipation, flashing in the air like fireflies.
It was cute. Reyna loved that Kianthe got excited about the dragons.
But the part of her strained to the brink whispered, Is there time for this?
At the bookshelves, Gossley—their teenage shop hand—groaned. “No. No. You promised we weren’t doing this again.”
Above them, the sound of scrabbling talons cut over the roof tiles. The entire barn seemed to groan, the roof holding the weight as a sheer act of the Gods. Or maybe it was an act of the Stone of Seeing. Or maybe the wood just didn’t want to disappoint Kianthe, the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages, the Realm’s most powerful elemental mage—who was currently hopping into her leather boots like there was a fight to catch outside and she didn’t want to miss out.
Kianthe’s balance shifted, and she nearly crashed into the wall.
A few of their patrons snorted and went back to their teas.
Reyna set down her copper kettle, absently mopping the spilled water with a cleaning rag. The burn’s pain had already faded, which was a blessing. The frustration remained. “Key, please. Gossley is right; we talked about this.”
“I’m just going to look. They’re baby dragons,” Kianthe said, yanking on her other boot. This side was far more graceful, mostly because she’d taken the hint and braced her shoulder against the wall.
“I thought dragon magic made you nauseous?” Reyna asked, an unbidden smile crossing her face. It was hard to stay mad at her partner for long.
“Adult dragon magic, maybe. Baby dragon magic doesn’t count. It’s like”—Kianthe paused, straightening, deep in thought—“like the unsettling feeling of a rough ocean, where you think you should be seasick, but you aren’t. And they’re so cute!”
Reyna sighed. “Cute or not, the last time they stopped by, one showed interest in your moonstone. And when you let it get a closer look—it stole your moonstone, and you and Visk spent half the day chasing it down.”
Her unspoken words were: We don’t have half a day. We barely have until noon.
But Kianthe utterly missed it.
“Something so young shouldn’t be so fast.” Kianthe’s hand unconsciously sought the pendant at her neck. It still functioned as necessary—a bridge between Reyna’s own, matching necklace, allowing them to communicate over long distances—but there was a big chip in hers now. “Gentle” wasn’t a concept many dragons understood, apparently.
Another thump-thud on the roof.
Case in point.
Kianthe surged forward, and Reyna smoothly cut her off. Sometimes Kianthe’s brain got frazzled, completely distracted. Sometimes, she needed more pointed intervention. Reyna tried to keep her tone neutral, but her stress leaked in. “Key, please listen to me. The wedding is in one week. Our friends are working hard to ensure it’s a time everyone remembers. The town’s size is about to double with all our guests.” She drew a slow breath, feeling her heart rate slow as Kianthe finally offered her undivided attention. Gazing at her partner, it was easy to add an amusing lilt now: “If the Arcandor accidentally starts a war with the dragons, we’ll have a difficult time cutting the cake.”
“Fuck.” Kianthe visibly hesitated. “I forgot there’d be cake.”
Reyna squeezed her arm and strolled back behind the counter. “I can’t take on sorting the teas, too, love. Please don’t add that to my load.”
“Never,” Kianthe swore, pressing a hand to her heart. “I’ll get it done. And then I’ll make you a cup of tea to unwind tonight. You seem stressed.”
“I wonder why,” Reyna drawled, but inside, she was cringing.
Everything they’d discussed with Locke all those weeks ago—it was all coming to a head at the wedding. Which meant everything needed to be perfect. She couldn’t take any more distractions.
“Love you, Rain.” Kianthe stepped forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Just a moment with the dragons, okay?”
Any frustration melted away. Reyna was slightly shorter than Kianthe, and she pushed to her tip-toes to drape over her partner in a hug. Kianthe’s strong grip felt like an anchor in a storm. “Okay. Have fun. And tell Ponder to stay off the roof. She’s setting a bad example.” Reyna pulled away, dipped a tea bag into the mug, then flipped one of their sand timers to ensure it didn’t oversteep. “Apologies for the delay, Miss Fusset! It will just be a moment.”
An elderly woman at one of the nearby tables waved, nose buried in a very raunchy book.
Kianthe stole another kiss, then winked. “Be right back. If anything, I’ll make sure they don’t cave the place in. You don’t need that right now, either.”
By the time Reyna sorted her thoughts to respond, Kianthe was gone.
It wasn’t a graceful exit—the moment she stepped outside, she nearly slammed into Matild. Their best friend danced around Kianthe, raising a plate covered in a cloth napkin over her head to avoid Kianthe’s flailing hands.
“Matild, there’s dragons—”
“Do you know how long it took Janice to bake these cookies?” Matild shifted the plate to one hand and smacked Kianthe’s shoulder with the other. The mage grinned sheepishly, but Matild was already stepping inside, utterly ignoring the dragons on the roof. “Reyna, I need your opinion. I can’t trust your fiancée with this.”
Matild was Tawney’s midwife—the closest thing to a medical professional in the small town. She was also one of the first acquaintances Kianthe and Reyna had made when they arrived—and it was a friendship that had withstood the test of time. Now she strode through the bookshop as if she owned the place, her ochre skin flushed, eyes alight.
As a married woman, nothing excited Matild more than the thought of someone else’s wedding.
Reyna wished she had that energy.
Another fire to put out. Reyna hadn’t had this many tasks on her plate since Queen Tilaine visited Shepara, and she was one of three Queensguard chosen to coordinate security on the trip. Swallowing a sigh, Reyna removed the tea bag, mixed in some honey, and dropped it off at Miss Fusset’s table.
The old woman barely noticed, eyes wide as she flipped to a new page.
“Follow me.” Matild bypassed the bookshop entirely, beelining for the storage room—and the privacy it afforded.
Lovely. One of those cookie tastings, then.
Reyna forced a smile and said to Gossley, “You’ve got the shop.”
“Of course, Miss Reyna.” The boy puffed up a bit as he fumbled with the book in his hand. His girlfriend sometimes stopped by to say hello, and nothing pleased Gossley more than showing he was in charge of a business. Luckily, he was as reliable as he was eager.
Reyna stepped into the storeroom and gently closed the door behind herself, facing Matild. She couldn’t stop herself from slumping against the door. “Well?”
“We have a problem.” The midwife cut straight to the chase.
Reyna massaged her forehead. “We always do. What’s the issue now? If it’s still the florist, Kianthe will be the best one to—”
“It’s not the florist.” Matild cleared a space for her plate of cookies, casting a surreptitious look at the unsorted teas. Jars and jars of them busied the table in the room’s center, with half-made blends left abandoned. In short, it was chaos—but that was how Kianthe preferred to work. Matild quirked an eyebrow. “Uh. Those baby dragons interrupted something, didn’t they?”
“The problem, Matild?” Reyna redirected. Her brain was a swirl of activity already, and the wedding preparations hadn’t even started in earnest. Not for the first time, Reyna regretted agreeing to this entire event. It felt so unnecessary.
Then again, the point was to present a united front to the entire Realm.
She just had to survive the week.
Matild riffled through her pocket and plucked out a single letter. It had a deep-blue seal stamped on the front, the address penned with meticulous cursive.
Kianthe of the magicary and Jallin
The Arcandor, the mage of Ages
new Leaf Tomes and Tea, Tawney
There was no mention of the sender. There was also no doubt in Reyna’s mind who’d sent it. This week, her normally impeccable composure was a thing of the past, and she cursed loudly as she snatched the letter from Matild’s hand. “When did you get this?”
“Postmaster dropped it off this morning.” Until the wedding was over, all their mail was being delivered to Matild. It was partly to avoid opening any gifts early by accident … and partly to keep their sanity in a sea of congratulations. Reyna and Kianthe agreed they could sort through the letters at their leisure after the wedding.
Matild’s voice was grim. “You said to look out for letters from Jallin. I thought it was odd they’d address her like that.”
Reyna ran her fingers along the locations. The Magicary … and Jallin.
The Arcandor was nothing short of a public figure, renowned for her control over the Realm’s elemental magic. But all mages were funneled into the Magicary for proper training, and then released as independent citizens. In theory, the Mage of Ages held no special connection to any one country or town; they were a mediator to the Realm at large.
In practice, Kianthe was usually biased in favor of Shepara or Leonol—mostly because she hated Queen Tilaine, the venerated ruler of the Queendom and Reyna’s ruthless ex-employer. But to imply Kianthe was loyal to Jallin specifically … that was an overstep only one family would make.
Reyna opened the letter. She shouldn’t, not without Kianthe’s approval, but she couldn’t stop herself. The words blurred together so she only caught snippets at first, lines like delighted to see you again and gifts for you and your future wife, but the ending signature stuck like a dagger.
See you soon,
Your Parents
“Shit,” Reyna muttered.
“That bad?” Matild skirted around the table, craning over Reyna’s shoulder to see. It was a dangerous position for anyone but Kianthe—Reyna’s instincts were to never let someone hover behind her, lest they pull a knife—but this new development took priority. Matild hummed in confusion. “Her parents? All this time, you wanted me to watch for a letter from her parents?”
Reyna leveled an unimpressed stare at Matild.
The midwife tutted. “Don’t look at me like that. Of course her family would want to come to her wedding. Why are you acting like someone poisoned your drink?”
Reyna carefully extricated herself, stepping to a clear area of the storage room for a bit of breathing space. “Kianthe isn’t on the best terms with her family. She’s started sending letters, and replying to the ones they sent … but that’s different than her parents”—Reyna checked the letter to get the wording right—“‘arriving in Tawney posthaste.’”
Matild contemplated. “Were they assholes?”
And that was where things got tricky. Family relations usually were. Reyna drew a short breath. “I honestly can’t say. From what Kianthe tells me, they’re … encouraging. But I think that’s the problem.”
It was hard for Reyna to understand, truth be told. She’d had a good relationship with her mother, and after her death, sentimentality had brightened any negative moments. But it didn’t matter what Reyna thought. She wasn’t present for Kianthe’s childhood, and sometimes, relationships couldn’t be mended.
Matild crossed her arms. “I may need a bit more information, because I’m not seeing the problem here. My family is locked in the Capital, and if we visit, we’ll be killed.” Sorrow tinged Matild’s tone. “It sounds like her parents want to attend her wedding. I wish Tarly and I were as lucky.”
Fatigue slid through Reyna’s chest. She pushed off the door, slumping instead over the work table. The unbagged teas, which smelled lovely individually, had combined into a noxious fume that was giving Reyna a headache.
“I know. But it’s a different situation.” She sorted her thoughts, trying to put Matild in Kianthe’s shoes. “For Kianthe, their expectations are stressful. They want her to be the greatest Arcandor of all time. And that support—that pressure—was spread over decades of well-meaning letters from family she truly admired … and never wanted to fail.”
After fleeing the Capital, Matild had spent considerable time in Shepara’s capital of Wellia, studying all forms of medicine. She took her job as the owner of Tawney’s sole clinic very seriously. The well-being of every Tawney citizen—Sheparan or Queendom—was her priority.
And anyone close to Kianthe knew the mage wrestled with anxiety.
Matild grimaced. “Ah.”
“Indeed.” Reyna folded the letter, tucking it in her pocket. “I’ll tell Kianthe about this. But Dreggs will be arriving this afternoon, the wedding is six days away, and there are dragons on my roof.”
As if to prove the point, another thud echoed overhead, followed by a warning screech loud enough to penetrate the barn’s walls. Ponder, chastising the dragons. Reyna’s young griffon loved to scold them for misbehaving.
Reyna winced, fighting another swell of panic. “I need you to coordinate with Sigmund and Nurt.” The town informants knew everything that happened in Tawney, and had no issue distributing details … for a fee. “If anyone we haven’t accounted for arrives, intercept them. That’s priority one.”
Matild frowned. “I thought priority one was—”
“It’s changed.” A lifetime guarding a vicious queen meant Reyna was excellent at shuffling priorities when new threats arose. Now she tucked the letter in her pocket, smoothing her apron. Maybe she could regain her perfect composure through sheer willpower.
Matild lifted one brow, her tone stern. “You’re wearing thin, Reyna. You don’t need one more secret.”
That was true. But they had too many things to do today. She couldn’t tell Kianthe about this yet.
It was selfish, but she needed her partner in top shape, completely focused on what was to come. Because the Gods knew Reyna was barely holding herself together, all things considered. Her parents were attending the wedding, but they weren’t an immediate threat.
Not yet, anyway.
Reyna forced a laugh. “On the contrary, all this excitement reminds me of the old days. I’ll tell Kianthe when we have a moment to breathe, but Lord Wylan is expecting us soon.”
“To discuss logistics about the pirate fleet you’ve welcomed to our doorstep? Or the other thing?” Matild smirked.
Reyna twirled her light-blond hair into a loose bun. A quick tie with a scrap of leather kept it off her face. “Both.” Absently, her hands drifted to her hip … to the missing piece. “I wish I had my sword.”
“One day, I think I’ll need an exact play-by-play of how Kianthe managed to break it during a sparring session.” Matild rolled her eyes.
“She’s not meant for weapons. Her form was all wrong.” Although Reyna had other suspicions, she wouldn’t voice them aloud. Not yet. “Is Tarly almost done repairing it?”
Matild waved a hand. “He’s working on it, but he’s been backlogged lately. It’ll be ready before the wedding, and I’m sure you can survive until then with your dagger collection.”
Heat rose on Reyna’s cheeks. “I can. It’s just … a small comfort. Makes me feel more confident.”
Matild clapped her shoulder. “Everyone feels more confident with a sword at their hip. Take it from a blacksmith’s wife.” She headed for the door, but gestured back at the covered plate. “There’s no cookie tasting; I made the decision for you. If you don’t like those, file a complaint with Janice and we’ll respond in nine to twelve days.”
Reyna rolled her eyes, an unbidden smile tilting her lips. “Duly noted.”
“Good luck with Kianthe. Hopefully she doesn’t try to ride the dragons again.” Matild shook her head and strolled out the door, easing it closed behind her.
Alone in the storage room, Reyna glanced at the mess of unsorted teas, the abandoned plate of cookies. In her pocket, the letter seemed to burn—and all of these were minor inconveniences compared to what was coming.
She drew a slow breath, centering her mind.
Everything was going to be fine.
She’d make sure of it.
Plastering a smile on her face, Reyna strolled back into the shop.
2Kianthe
The dragons prowled along the slate shingles of the barn’s roof, grumbling to each other as they explored. From a distance, it sounded mildly terrifying—except that these dragons were barely more than hatchlings, and had the personalities to match. Ponder flitted above them, chittering in obvious irritation, her wings flapping fiercely.
Kianthe crested the ladder, manipulating the wind to keep herself from tipping off the slanted roof, and squinted against the sunlight.
As always, an adult dragon lounged on the rim behind the town, keeping a casual eye on their youth. But with the Mage of Ages near enough to protect the babies, the adult dragon had clearly checked out. It was stretched like a cat lazing in the sun, wings draped over the snow-dusted rocks, eyes closed.
Kianthe snorted. That was her kind of babysitting.
Ponder landed beside Kianthe. She bumped Kianthe’s shoulder, which almost toppled the mage, and chirped smugly at the dragons. But her talons weren’t any better for the rooftop, and a shingle slid past Kianthe, crashing to the ground.
“Ahh!” someone yelped.
“Sorry!” Kianthe grimaced, reaching out with her magic, and ordered the rest of the slate tiles to stay put. They weren’t happy about it—fair, considering the dragons’ assault—but they held tight to appease her.
“Reyna said to stay off the roof,” Kianthe told the adolescent griffon.
Ponder tilted her beak dismissively, the griffon equivalent of “They started it.”
Gone were the days when Ponder could fit on their shoulders. Now, she’d reached her full height—a hand shorter than Visk, her father—and was filling out nicely as the seasons passed. In another half a year, she’d be safe to ride.
For now, she was a sassy teenager surrounded by bad influences.
“Gold Coin. Pill Bug! We talked about this,” Kianthe called, pulsating her words with elemental magic. It flowed into the dragons, causing them to pause. Both were deep silver in color, like most of the dragons north of here—but Gold Coin had shocking purple eyes and a pair of twisting horns. Its sibling, meanwhile, was smaller, with a dusting of black along the underside of its wings.
Kianthe waved a hand. “Go on. To the ground with you.” Like she was shooing pesky pigeons out of a tree.
Gold Coin roared, puffing up and spreading its wings in what would doubtless be an intimidating display in a few years—but given that its fearsome roar currently had a timbre that reminded Kianthe of Gossley’s cracking voice, the effect was lost.
“Very fierce.” Kianthe snickered.
Really, Reyna had created this problem. Back when Gold Coin was small enough to fit inside New Leaf, she’d shown it a picture book of a fearsome dragon hoarding gold.
It took that persona to heart.
Pill Bug, meanwhile, lowered its head in submission and meekly hopped off the roof, drifting between their barn and Sasua’s house to land in the street. A few startled cries erupted from their patrons. Kianthe listened intently, but their surprise settled into murmurs and amused laughter.
Apparently, these dragons were becoming something of a town mascot. Fine by Kianthe—that just meant more eyes to keep them out of mischief.
The mage redirected her attention to Gold Coin, their perpetual troublemaker. She thought Ponder was bad. “There’s nothing here for your hoard, kid. But if you land, Reyna may have a cookie for you.”
Gold Coin eyed her moonstone with interest.
Copyright © 2025 by Rebecca Thorne
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