Arctic

I'm chasing through the palace, the icy halls unfamiliar. They keep changing beneath my talons, keep shifting as soon as I think I know where I am. My childhood bedroom is buried in snow, and Mother is chasing after me.

Suddenly, I'm pinning her to the ground, and my talons are tight around her neck. Her face turns blue, and she splutters for breath.

"I hate you!" I scream. "You broke me! You made me like this! You gave me this power, and now–"

"And I love you, Arctic. That's the truth. I've always loved you, I've done everything to help you, and this–this is how you repay me?" the walls roar.

I spin around wildly, suddenly surrounded by the bodies of those soldiers I killed. Snowflake, Mother–

"I taught you the rules. You didn't break them, did you?"

"I didn't know–I'm fine! My soul is fine! Everything is fine, everything is going to be great!" I shout. "And it's no thanks do you."

"You can't lie to your mother, Arctic."

I start to panic. "I can do whatever I like. You're–you're not in my head."

"Was it worth it, Arctic?" Mother asks, her voice seeming to come from all sides. "Are you proud of yourself?"

***

I wake up in a panic, gasping for breath.

For a moment, I look around the room, trying to find my mother's dead body, before I realize–this isn't the Ice Palace. This isn't my home.

Foeslayer's weird little loft is so hidden from the light that if I go to sleep in the corner, I can barely see the windows. She got her mother to install the heaviest curtains they could find in the kingdom, and I still can't sleep.

She's snoring beside me, her wings flung out all over the place, her face against her pillow. She thashes around in her sleep, like she's fighting somebody. It's a little bit endearing.

Stupid room. I never used to have dreams, back when I was in the Ice Kingdom.

It wasn't real. It was just–

Nothing. Nothing at all.

***

I pace—back and forth and back and forth, trying to clear my head. It's too hot, too stuffy. I fling open the window. There's a bathtub, but I can't figure out where the water comes from–maybe some servant is supposed to bring it up from the river. In the Ice Kingdom, our palace was alive with magic–but I've never seen anywhere more barren and dead than this moonsforsaken house.

We're not going to be stuck here for the rest of our lives.

I didn't forsake my tribe for this. I didn't.

I glance at myself in the mirror. There are dark circles under my eyes. My scales are dull. If she were here, Mother would be saying something— about how a prince has to always think about the way in which he's perceived.

A hollow, empty space yawns open in my chest. I throw the window open, desperate for some fresh air.

I have nothing, now. Foeslayer got to keep her family, Foeslayer got to keep her friends. Foeslayer didn't have to cast that spell.

She's got it so easy.

I close my eyes, and I can still hear it; Snowflake's scream as she fell down to the ground.

"It wasn't me," I whisper. "It wasn't me, it couldn't be."

But it was. I killed them. I know my mother—if she doesn't get me back, she's going to burn down the whole world trying.

The cold wind cuts into my scales. It almost feels like home until the rain hits my scales. I hear Foeslayer coming from a thousand miles away.

"Arctic?" she asks softly. "Why is it so cold?"

I jump a bit, and quickly shut the window. "Nothing," I say quietly. "Go back to sleep."

She clambers down from her loft, looking at me with the most obnoxiously concerned expression.

"You should be sleeping," she says gently. "So you adjust to our sleep cycle."

"I'm not a dragonet," I scoff. "I'll sleep when I want to."

"I'm just worried. I wouldn't want you to be on a different schedule than everyone else," she says, in that simpering sweet tone. Where have I heard that before?

"Is your mother letting us out of here? Or are we prisoners here, too?" I ask, lashing my tail back and forth. I need to get out, even if it's only to see the gloomy, miserable sky and feel the wind beneath my wings.

"It feels like.... like your middle of the night for me," Foeslayer reminds me. "Couldn't it wait a few hours?"

I lash my tail, shifting uncomfortably.

She hesitates, a smile curling across her snout. "All right, well–Mother never finished showing you around the place. I bet I can give you a way better tour–there's a few creepy cellars she missed. And a garden out back—oh, Arctic, you've never seen a proper garden!"

I shake my head. "No. No. My appointment is only a few hours away. I'll just get there early. You said Vigilance likes meeting at odd hours, anyway."

"Let me go with you," Foeslayer says softly, leaning into my shoulder. "She gives me the creeps."

"The queen wanted to see me alone," I remind her.

***

The NightWing palace feels tiny compared to the one in the Ice Kingdom. On the ceiling of the drawing room, a mural is painted of a queen staring up at the three moons from what looks like a rainforest–the same queen, leading her tribe through thick, ominous vines with glowing silver eyes. A violinist plays a slow, vaguely ominous melody, and Vigilance has even set out a tray of appetizers. There's a few different bottles on the table, a pitcher of water, and glasses set out for each of us.

"Prince Arctic," Vigilance says, smiling." You're late."

"I lost track of time." She's not my queen; I don't have to answer to her.

She raises her eyebrows. "Well. Make yourself at home," she says, her expression not betraying much enthusiasm.

Perhaps her and Mother aren't so different.

I try one of the little green fruit things on the platter, the same tint as Foeslayer's scales, and cough into my wing.

Vigilance half-suppresses a snicker.

"Those are olives, Prince Arctic," One of the guards says helpfully. "They're an acquired taste. You might want to try something more mild, like the bread or the–"

"I don't hire my guards to offer tips on the menu," Vigilance snaps, all the humour suddenly gone from her expression.

"Oh. Right. Of course, Your Majesty." He goes back to staring blankly at the wall, and I almost laugh.

Who needs their food to have this many colours? What a weird tribe. I decide to stick to the meat from now on. Even that tastes weird.

I narrow my eyes. "Enough of the pleasantries. What do you want of me? I know that something must have been promised of me, if you let me stay in this kingdom."

Vigilance thinks for a good, long moment. "Prince Arctic," she says simply. "You are an animus dragon–and from what Prudence tells me, you have no qualms about using your power. Is that correct?"

I freeze, taking in a sharp breath. I can feel it–the cold wind on my scales, the screaming–

"That was only for when we escaped. We–we had no other option."

"Mmm." She thinks for a moment, then snaps her talons at one of the guards. "You! Give me the letter."

The guard hands her a rolled-up scroll. She presents it to me.

"What is this?" I narrow my eyes. The seal on the parchment is all too familiar.

"Your mother sent this through the border. I thought I'd let you read it... more privately."

Part of me doesn't want to unroll it. This is my life. I'm going to be happy now, I'm going to have it better. Mother can't follow me here, not if I don't let her.

In the end, curiosity wins out.

My dearest Arctic,

I don't understand where I went wrong with you. I gave you everything. I doted on you since the moment you hatched. If there was an opportunity, you had it. If there was a danger, you were protected from it. If there was something you needed to learn, I taught you it.

You were blessed from the moment you hatched by the Great Ice Dragon. She gave you your powers, she gave you a chance to make your tribe something better. Something truly monumental.

I don't understand how my precious only dragonet could throw that away.

You had a good life here, Arctic. You were a prince, in line to one day be king. You had a perfect match lined up for you. Whatever that Foeslayer has put in your head: she's using you. She wants you to give her all your power–she wants to use it for herself.

But I care about you. I just want the best for you, Arctic. I always have, and I don't know why you've got it in your head otherwise.

So come home.

All my love,

Mother

I drop the scroll to the floor, looking up to meet Vigilance's eyes. She's calm, unimpressed, like this happens every day

"So," she says. "Still want to stay?"

"I am never going back to that kingdom for as long as I live," I hiss. I grit my teeth, heart pounding. She's lying. She's lying. She doesn't know what it was like. This is just what she does. She didn't love me, she didn't love me any more than–

"If that's the case, Prince Arctic, then you want me to fight a war for you and your lover. And I will. But know–that someday, I will come to you, and I will expect payment in return for my hospitality," she says calmly, standing up. "Am I understood?"

This isn't what I signed up for.

I'm nobody's bargaining chip.

I bow my head. "Duly noted, Your Majesty."