Chapter 34: THE NAME BELOW THE CITADEL

DIANA’S POV

Diana learned what Vharos’s name meant because two dragonkeepers were arguing about meat.

That morning, she had gone under guard to a Dragon Heights service court to approve an additional kitchen route serving the Muster.

The decision required three minutes.

Leaving required twenty because Alma became distracted by a dragon the color of old copper refusing to eat what it had been given.

The animal shoved its feeding tray away with one foreclaw. When the keeper pushed it back, the dragon sent it even farther.

A second keeper arrived.

"If he refuses another meal, send the red meat below."

"To Vharos?"

"He ate yesterday."

"Half."

"Half is more than this idiot intends to eat."

The keeper folded his arms while the dragon refused to reconsider.

Diana’s attention caught on the name.

Vharos.

She had heard Raigoro say it on her first night in Blackharrow, when he listed the restricted parts of the Citadel.

At the time, it had meant only another locked place.

The dragonstone gave one warm pulse beneath her collar, strong enough for Diana to press her fingers against the fabric.

Alma noticed immediately.

"What?"

Diana wrote:

VHAROS.

"Yes?" Alma asked.

Diana pointed toward the keepers and signaled the second man before he could leave.

He bowed.

"Your Grace."

She wrote:

WHO IS VHAROS?

"His Grace’s dragon."

Raigoro’s dragon.

The answer explained nothing about the reaction beneath Diana’s throat.

She wrote:

THE BLACK ONE?

The keeper’s surprise deepened.

"Yes."

Diana’s fingers closed around the chalk.

"Have you seen him?"

Alma asked quickly, "Why would she have?"

The keeper glanced between them.

"I assumed His Grace had spoken of him."

Diana wrote:

I HAVE NOT SEEN HIM.

"Not since you arrived?"

Diana shook her head.

The keeper nodded toward the secured descent into the northern mountain beneath the Dragon Heights.

"He doesn’t come to the Muster."

WHY?

The man hesitated as though he disliked the answer.

"He’s ill."

Diana resisted the absurd urge to look through the floor.

HOW ILL?

The keeper considered.

"Some days are better."

Diana waited.

He understood.

"Very."

Alma’s amusement from the feeding dragon vanished.

Diana wrote:

FOR HOW LONG?

"Years."

His illness had begun before Diana came to Blackharrow, before the covenant and the journey north.

"His condition changes," the keeper continued. "Sometimes he eats well for weeks. Sometimes he barely moves. Master Clair’s keepers manage his daily care below. The dragon healers oversee his treatment."

The guarded stair behind the Dragon Heights descended toward the cavern Raigoro had specifically forbidden Diana to enter.

The name had meant nothing then.

Now the dragonstone had reacted simply because someone spoke it.

Diana wrote:

CAN I SEE HIM?

The keeper looked horrified by being asked to answer that.

"That would be for His Grace and Master Clair."

Reasonable, though entirely unhelpful.

Beside them, the dragon shoved its feeding tray away again.

"Eat," the keeper ordered.

The dragon remained unconvinced.

Diana wrote:

HE HAS A STRONG POSITION.

Alma read it and laughed.

The keeper did too before remembering he was speaking with the Grand Duchess.

Diana left before the animal won formally.

The name followed her back through the Citadel toward the Inner Keep.

Her memory supplied black scales and chains too quickly. Diana stopped herself.

She had never heard the dragon beneath Valence named. She did not yet know whether Vharos belonged to that memory.

The dragonstone warmed again as the image of black scales and dragging chains returned, stopping Diana in the corridor with Alma beside her.

"It did it again." ℯℯ𝑙.

Diana nodded.

Alma looked toward the necklace.

"Does it hurt?"

Diana shook her head and wrote:

SOMETHING ABOUT HIM FEELS FAMILIAR.

Alma did not answer.

Back in her rooms, Diana closed the door before removing the dragonstone from beneath her collar.

The black surface looked exactly as it always had, silent and unhelpful. When Diana pressed it against the old scar, warmth met her skin.

Alma caught the question before Diana had decided whether to ask it.

"What?"

After a moment, Diana wrote:

WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER?

Alma’s face changed.

"About?"

Diana wrote one name.

ELARA.

Alma sat down.

For a moment, she did not speak.

Diana remained standing.

"You were six."

Diana nodded.

"I remember the days afterward better."

That matched Diana’s memory.

Diana had no memory of Alma being in the underground chamber.

"You were ill. You had a fever and slept for almost two days."

Diana had no memory of the fever.

Alma continued.

"Your throat was badly bruised."

Diana touched the scar.

"The physicians said you had been injured during the accident."

What accident?

Diana wrote the question.

Alma shook her head.

"They never told me."

Diana stared.

"I was young too, Princess. They did not explain anything to servants, and after Queen Elara died, people became afraid of asking."

Diana sat across from her.

Alma looked down at her hands.

"You woke up asking for your mother."

Diana’s chest tightened.

"You couldn’t make the words."

She already knew she had woken without a voice, but Alma’s memory made the moment feel less distant.

"I understood only because you kept signing her name."

That part had disappeared from Diana’s memory along with so much else.

Alma looked at her.

"After the funeral, they stopped letting you leave your rooms except with guards."

Diana wrote:

WHY?

"I don’t know."

That answer had followed Diana for years.

Alma continued.

"The palace changed quickly. People who served your mother disappeared from your rooms. Some were transferred. Some dismissed. Your tutors were replaced. Then your portraits began coming down."

Diana looked toward the dragonstone.

A black dragon had once protected Diana beneath Valence, and soon afterward Queen Elara died, Diana lost her voice, and the palace began erasing her.

She could place the facts beside one another now without knowing how they connected.

Before bed, Diana fastened the dragonstone around her throat again.

That night, she dreamed of the stone beneath Valence.

A black wing lowered over her.

When Diana woke, Vharos was the first name in her mind.

That proved nothing except that she had spent the day thinking about him.

The dragonstone was burning against her throat.