"It is said that in ancient times, the plains were the most lush and beautiful of all the lands. The rugged beauty of the southern mountains could not compare, nor were the eastern river valleys more coveted."

  My little brother feigns a snore of boredom, and a giggle escapes me. Before we can be reprimanded, I stand. "Uncle, you have told us this story a hundred times."

  "Then tell me how it ends."

  "A fierce battle between the dragons of ice and fire destroyed the land, reducing the plains to ash. Humankind slowly overtook the land, coming from the east, until there were many kingdoms." With a slightly mocking tone, I add, "None greater than the northern empire, which spans from the western coast to the eastern river boundary."

  Our teacher is unimpressed.

  "We can’t expand farther west or north, since that would require crossing the sea. And anyway, who wants the volcanic islands? And we cannot go east into the Shadowlands, which only leaves the plains. Should we conquer the plains? Father says the tribes are quite civilized nowadays."

  "Little prince, do you like your sister's story telling better than mine?"

  Poor Adison doesn't know how to answer that without being disloyal to one of us, and since our teacher is an older relative the difficulty shows on his face.

  "What of the other kingdoms?"

  I recite the boring facts: the cities of the eastern river valleys are the richest, loosely united by proximity, tradition and indifference. The western forest cities are poorer, each its own kingdom and all constantly fighting. The southern empire is apparently strong but small, trapped between icy mountains and cut off from the plains by a raging waterfall. And then there are the plains people, who aren’t civilized enough to build cities.

  Our teacher takes a deep breath. "Sit."

  Out the window, soldiers are training in the grass. I would one hundred times rather be there than here, but I sit.

  "You diminish the plains, which extend from the marshes to the desert and are home to the nomadic tribes, who grow strong through difficulty. While here in the north we are going soft in our grand cities."

  "Hostage exchange--you could send me there to learn hardship."

  "Why would any empire send its future empress as a hostage to the plains?" Our uncle fails to maintain his teacherly tone.

  "The history books demonstrate that it's a common practice."

  "Not for the principal heir–"

  "It will have to be you." My little brother turns to me in alarm, and I smile at him sweetly.

  "--of the stronger kingdom." Our teacher raises his voice to forestall any argument. "No one is going to the plains."

  "So, why are we talking about the plains?"

  "I intended to speak of dragons."

  We straighten at our desks, both willing to listen.

  Our teacher clears his throat. "South of the southern mountains is an uninhabitable icy tundra, while north of the sea, as Crown Princess Adelaide said, are the equally inhospitable volcanic islands. In the ancient world, before civilization, these two dangerous places were home to the dragons of ice and fire."

  Our teacher could tell the story in rhyme and song and we would still listen. The legends do not agree on why the immortal creatures left their comfortable homes to destroy each other, only that they did, and when it was over there were only two dragons left alive in a desolate countryside. "The last fire dragon returned north, badly injured. The last ice dragon retreated south to die." Even if they were both equally doomed, the stories always depict our fire dragon as slightly less defeated. "Before she died, the dragon bestowed a gift upon a human that was kind to her."

  I hold out my hand and pull an orb of flame from the fireplace. I love the way it dances and glows, wild and free. The teacher's ruler lands on my palm without warning. "Ouch!" The fire disappears and I hold my stinging hand to my heart, feeling betrayed.

  "Fire is a temptress. Do not be enchanted by it. You must learn to control it."

  My brother holds up a single finger like a candle and blows out a tiny spark. He doesn’t mean to be smug; he just is.

  "I don't want to cont-"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "I am reminding you of this legend today because..." The history teacher's voice becomes monotonous as he explains the importance of this gift and the duty of the empire to protect the stability of the people.

  I wonder, does the southern emperor also subject his children to lectures like this? Or did the ice dragon die without leaving a legacy?

  ------

  At that moment, the southern prince stands facing five armed guards.

  "If I beat all five of you, you won't follow me?" Fifteen years old, Kiurral stands as tall as the grown men before him. His sharp features accentuate negative expressions, now softened by a mischievous smirk. "And you won't look for me for a whole month?"

  "If you beat all of us without anyone losing any blood, yes."

  "Without--?" The youth hesitates. "That seems unfair."

  Four guards draw their swords slowly, letting the sound of steel ring in the air. Their captain rests his hand on his undrawn sword's hilt. "Let it be a life lesson then."

  "I want a proper doctor this time, not that highland charlatan."

  "That ‘highland charlatan’ is a skilled and respected herbalist..." Captain Elias sighs. "Fine, we'll send for an army medic. He’ll throw a bandage on it and call you a survivor." He draws his sword, swinging it twice. "On your mark, Your Highness."

  Kiurral steps back into a fighting stance, his skin coating with hard ice and his eyes flashing blue. From his hand, a blade forms out of the moisture in the air, one with the prince as he leaps forward. More magic than solid, the blade shatters on impact and reforms as he passes, bruising through their light armor.

  Four embarrassed guards will explain to the ministers why this seemed like a good idea at the time while Elias finds someone not oath-bound to track the prince's escape. Kiurral, knowing they will be persuaded to further break their promise with well-intentioned words like 'duty' and 'responsibility', does not wait.

  His bag and horse were ready before the fight, and by the time a fresh guard is running across the castle drawbridge, he is galloping through the narrow pass that separates the southern empire from the rest of the land.

  He does this every year.

  -------

  On the lush grass of the plains, two brothers face each other. They are bruised and bloodied, panting from exertion and anger. Too tired to throw their fists, they trade insults. Neither remembers how this fight started, but they recall every past wrong as they yell at each other until one slanders the other's mother. The younger one finds he does have some strength yet, feinting a punch to land a kick.

  Their friends cheer them on, content to be uninvolved until a cry of, "The Chief is coming!" is called by a lookout. Then they do their duty to separate the brothers.

  Chieftain Mendas looks between his sons, radiating disapproval.

  "He called my mother a snake," the younger one finally complains.

  Mendas looks past them both at the sun, as if it might provide some answer. "You have the same mother, and Dihya is a snake." He will regret this moment when his wife learns of it later, but seeing his sons' angry faces turn sheepish is a momentary victory. "Apologize to each other and come to my tent. I have an important task for you both."

  Soon they will be setting off in opposite directions with an army each and a goal: to unite the plains' people under their father's banner. (That is, the few that are left. The Chief already did most of the work.)

  -------

  By which point, I am sitting under a tree in my father's garden watching Vasilis show off his newest sword technique. In the past we would have sparred instead, but in the last few months his muscles are growing much faster than mine, and he is almost a head taller. I am more skilled, but I can't win against his strength without cheating.

  His sword neatly slices a single apple blossom off the tree and he dances with it, his blade whirling, over to where I sit. I blow it away. "I can't believe it's spring again already."

  "You'll be thirteen soon."

  It sounded so old a year ago, but not now. Nothing ever changes. Not my lessons, not my lack of freedom, not my height. The teachers are all guiding me to become the next empress, yet I have never stepped foot outside of the palace walls.

  "The spring festival is coming," he tries again to start a conversation. Vasilis is a year younger than me, and we have always been close. No, we were close. This year he has been distracted and irritable and strange. "Maybe we can go to the market together."

  I shake my head. I already asked if I could go. They didn't even bother with excuses this time, just a monosyllabic "No."

  Vasilis dances around me with his sword to cheer me up, and I try to look cheerful until he has to leave. His parents are among the emperor's advisors, so they usually exit the palace as a family around sunset. When he is finally gone, I leave the garden to find my own family.

  "Adelaide, you're here," the empress greets me without looking up from her desk. The emperor stands by the fireplace, staring into the crackling fire.

  "Where else would I be?" I look around. Dropping onto a couch, I ask, "Adison?"

  Neither is concerned by his absence. "You remember your Uncle Benelus?"

  Mother's older brother. He keeps his own small castletown near the southwestern border. I remember not liking him. "Yes."

  "How would you feel about visiting him?"

  I have to stand to react properly. "Are you serious?" Both of their faces are quite serious. "Uncle Benelus? In the west?" The fire brightens for a moment before dying low.

  I haven't seen the empress's eyes glow before, but now they do. She looks at me, but I don't understand what I'm seeing. "My brother has his own castle on the coast. The beaches there are lovely, and sometimes you can watch the volcanoes erupt."

  Our teacher said that the previous generation loses their power when the next generation is born, but clearly that isn't true. The empress's control makes me feel like there is no fire, although I still see it burning.

  "What do you think?"

  "Uncle Ben? He's my favorite." I won't pass on this opportunity even if it is a strange mood swing. "Volcanoes erupting? Sounds fun."

  "Daughter," the emperor says, still standing with his back to the room. "I have a request." I expect him to ask for some coastal food or unusual souvenir, so I don't know how to respond when he says, "Marry well."

  "I'm not even a woman yet, father." I look at my mother, the one who keeps a record of such things, for confirmation. She nods her agreement.

  "Your mother picked me, a man who wanted to be emperor, because she didn't care to be empress."

  She smiles fondly. "Not only that." She would sooner sit in her workshop and spin glass into vases or carve butterflies out of gold than concern herself with imperial affairs.

  "Aren't I betrothed to Vasilis?"

  "No." They speak together, their voices overlapping. For a moment, they both look at me as ordinary parents might–concerned, protective. "Some intend that you should marry him," father says, "but you are free to choose for yourself."

  "Oh." I find I do not mind. I liked him more before he started beating me at swords and chess. He wins poorly. Not like Adison.

  The empress releases the fire and returns to writing. "In time, he may mature into a decent man."

  The emperor shakes his head. "He grows like his father, proud in a way that demands others' inferiority. It's an ugly trait in a boy, worse in a man."

  I will think about that later, when my head is not full of potential adventure. "When can I go visit Uncle Ben?"