One True Queen: A Wings of Fire fanfiction

59.

Eclipse

I watch the early-morning light glint off the chandelier and the ice-carved table, and wonder how old all this stuff must be—fifty years? Two hundred? I yawn quietly into my talon.

"Remember," Snowfox hisses, looking down at me. "You are here to testify as to Polar's condition. If you abuse this privilege, it's right back to the dungeons, you understand me?" She narrows her eyes. She doesn't need a crown to exude power and authority.

I nod. "Of course. I know."

"I'm trusting you," she says sharply.

"Well, you kind of have to," I point out.

She looks away, disgruntled. Takes a sip of her water.

***

I try to keep my cool as the table full of very intimidating IceWings stares me down, looking at me like I've personally done something to offend them.

"Princess Eclipse," a burly-looking dragon with a purple tint to his scales says. "You're the daughter of our tribe's worst enemy. What do you have to tell us?"

I clear my throat, glancing down at my essay. "Um. Okay, so... Polar didn't have any friends, but he did talk to me a bit. And he didn't tell Snowfox any of this, so—" I take in a sharp breath, trying not to focus on their eyes. "I'm the only source you've got. And what he told me is that after my dad escaped, and he ran off, he went to the desert, and he found an animus—totally independent of Queen Scorpion—who gave him a limited version of animus magic, tied to a bracelet. I think, honestly, he just felt like it would make up for not being born an animus. I mean, it must have been pretty awful to feel like you've been failing your kingdom from the moment you hatched, right?" I look up, wincing at the impatient expressions all around me.

"Eclipse," Snowfox says curtly. "We don't have the time for your bleeding-heart psychoanalysis."

Don't you guys spend hours obsessing over a made-up hierarchy every day?

I decide this isn't the hill to die on, and clear my throat. "Um. Right. So: he came back with a power liable to slip out of control at any minute and used it in the war. This isn't any tribe's fault, and honestly, aren't we at war? We need to be united—there's more important things than this whole scandal. And if we, um, if we present this information wrong, it could incite another war, which is the last thing we need. So, Snowfox should say that it was her error, and she'll go to an effort to ensure that something like this never happens again, and urges all parents in the kingdom to consider the pressure their dragonets might be under. She'll come off honest, down-to-earth—someone who made a mistake, just like the rest of us do, rather than taking the easy way out and blaming my dad. I, um, I wrote out a rough draft of a speech that's a lot more articulate, if you wanna read it." I awkwardly push my scroll onto the table.

Come on.

There must be some kindness left in you.

Then again—I'm sitting at a table across from the dragons who signed off to invade my home.

The dragon across the table taps her claw ominously against the ice. Another twists around a wristwatch. I suddenly become unnervingly aware of my breath, rising and falling. The beat of my heart.

Snowfox shifts her jaw.

"How old are you?" A dragon with a greying marble pattern on her scales asks.

"Um. Thr—no, four." I suddenly feel very, very small.

She arches her eyebrows. "Hmm. You must have had an interesting life, with such powerful parents. You know, growing up, my father was a general, and my mother ran a small town back east, perhaps we have some common ground. My name's Wolf." She smiles faintly.