Rise of the Dragon Queen

by Sherri Beth Mitchell

  Which was why he had been keeping an eye on everyone with whom she interacted. Even if he had not been watching Dalton very carefully, Hans would have seen the longing looks the prince was giving the young woman. But Hans stayed quiet about it until she asked him to escort her to her chambers. Hans willingly obliged and took her arm. When Dalton was out of earshot, the old man bent over and said, “My dear girl, you have so many young men lusting and courting you.”

  She winced at his words, but did not deny them. “I know, and it makes me feel strange…Hans, how come Dessica has not presented me with a suitor yet? I am of age to marry and bear children, yet she has never broached the subject with me whatsoever. I mean, it does not bother me. I am only curious.”

  Hans appeared astonished that she would even ask such a question. “Why, my lady, you are of noble blood! You cannot just marry anyone who sees fit to be your husband.” He looked around to make sure he had not been overheard, then back again. “These scars on my hands are my blood tie to you to keep you safe at all costs, if it be my very life to lay before your feet. Dessica took the same vows from our King, and she would have killed any boy who thought himself worthy of you so that your true identity would not be found out.”

  “Would she have kept me from men forever?” Silvia laughed. Hans chuckled along with her and shrugged. They were silent a moment, then she said, “Having never been around so many men at once that were not my servants, I am flattered by all of the attention, but unnerved by it also.”

  Hans nodded his understanding. “Being a courted woman is a dangerous profession,” he said, patting her hand gently.

  “I agree, and I do wish I could tell them to lavish their attentions on someone who will appreciate them more.”

  Hans smiled again, but did not speak. He believed he grasped her insinuation and her next words proved him right on the mark.

  “My heart has been taken by a man already…and I cannot say he stole it.”

  Chapter Eight—A Proposal and a Diary

  Hans, Silvia, Frero, and Keelan waited. Finally, the door that had been open swung shut and the lock clicked. Flinging back the hood of his shimmering white robe, Quentin stared at Silvia. He had tears in his eyes as he knelt before her on one knee. “If it had not been for you, my lady, I would never have come back here to this wretched palace. It is part of a past I would much rather forget. But I owed you too much not to.” His voice took on a more quiet tone. “I retrieved the key and Frero had a copy forged. But when I returned the one I took…” He trailed off, a guilty look across his face. “Mistress…he knows. Gregorich knows it was taken.”

  Silvia’s heart stopped as Frero gasped.

  Hans was the first to speak. “Where did you put the key?” he asked Quentin gruffly.

  “Exactly where I found it.”

  This time it was Silvia who bore the guilty face. “It is my fault that any of you are here right now,” she said solemnly. “If something goes wrong, blame it on me for getting you into this mess. But if he should ask any of you, we know nothing—feign innocence.”

  At that moment a fist began pounding on the door. Quentin disappeared and Silvia jumped up, straightened her veil and hairpiece and hurried to the door. As soon as she turned the lock the door burst open, slamming into the wall with a dull thud from the force and knocking her backwards a few steps. King Gregorich Hapshamin stood in the doorway, his royal robe flaring out in a black billowing cloud behind him. His disheveled blond hair was curled around his shoulders. His hazel eyes flashed suspicion and a strange fury around the room. Without speaking he brushed past Silvia and towered above the sitting form of Frero.

  “Old man, I demand to know what you were doing at the blacksmith’s! Did you steal from me?”

  Frero’s face paled, and his jaw dropped. Keelan’s voice rang through the silence inside Frero, Silvia, and Quentin’s minds: One of the parcels contains a dagger from the blacksmith’s; it’s for Silvia!

  Frero’s eyes flicked to the red fox at Silvia’s feet, then back up at Hapshamin. “Your Highness, I was purchasing a gift for my kind mistress, Lady Serena.”

  Gregorich’s hands clenched and unclenched as he openly glared at the old man. “I do not believe you. Prove it!” he barked. “I want to see what you purchased!”

  Silvia stepped in and said, “What is the meaning of all this? Why are you badgering a harmless, humble servant of mine who has never been anything less than honest?” She stared at the King with a sense of authority, a sense of superiority. Her green eyes blazed and she held her head high, chin out.

  Gregorich refused to even glance her way, keeping his eyes on Frero. “I had something stolen, and one of my Guards informed me that he had seen your servant hurrying into a smithy shop. Now I want to see just how honest the old man is.”

  Everyone watched Frero walk over to the parcels near the door and pick them up one by one. He tried to appear as if he was looking for the right one, and indeed he was, testing the weight of each package. He finally carried the right one over to Silvia (Keelan confirming through the stones that it was the one from the blacksmith). Bowing his head, he extended it to her open hands. Silvia gave the King a hard stare before untying the ribbon. The paper then fell away from a box and when she opened this, her eyes grew wide. She removed a beautiful sheathed dagger and examined it closely. When she slid the blade out of the leather she saw the emeralds of her eyes mirrored in it.

  “Frero, this is a gift gratefully accepted. I thank you for your kindness.” She turned to Gregorich. “I believe it is only right that you apologize to Frero.”

  The King’s eyes nearly popped out. “Me? Apologize? I will do nothing of the sort. I have done nothing wrong.”

  “And neither has he,” Silvia rebuked. “And yet you falsely insinuated that it was he who stole from you. What is it that he was supposed to have stolen? Why would he have taken whatever it was to a blacksmith?” This was a challenge to him; she doubted he would tell the truth.

  “Lady Serena, an important key was taken from my private study and I was afraid whoever took it might have made a copy of it.”

  “A key?” Silvia let her voice pitch rise, letting him know he had tested her limits. “You mean to tell me that you burst into my chambers and insult my servant and myself over a bloody key? That is preposterous! What key is so important that you belittle your own guests over it? Would you have us leave to escape your rudeness? What does this key open? A door to another realm, another world?"

  “Very nearly, and no, I do not wish for you to leave,” the King replied haughtily. “It opens the door to my past and I do not wish this key to be in anyone’s hand but my own.” He spun around and walked to the door. “One more thing,” he said, still facing the door. “Be glad that you have an honest servant, for you would have been one short if he had lied.”

  “How dare you threaten innocent people!” Silvia yelled. “Remove yourself from my presence!”

  If Gregorich Hapshamin was irked or angered at being ordered out of a room within his own palace he showed no sign of it. He walked out of the room quickly, not bothering to shut the door.

  “Someone close the door please,” Silvia said. She was so unstrung by this chain of events that her body was shaking. Was this what it would be like every day in the palace? Would she have to argue and raise her voice to keep those who served her alive and protected? If so she would have to tread more carefully. Clearly there were hidden dangers in every sentence, clandestine warnings in every look. She turned and walked to one of the glass doors that opened onto a balcony, throwing the door open wide and striding outside. There were two chairs and a tiny table sitting on the stone balcony, but she ignored them and went to the far banister. There, she draped her arms over it, still clutching the dagger in one hand. She stared out at the land before her. Being in the back of the castle and not facing the large city, the scene was quite fetching. The grassy lawn of the palace grounds stretched out before collapsing in the terraces of the city
levels. Beyond that, far off in the distance, were a row of thick large mountain ranges with jagged snowcapped tops. To her left, she could just see the cow pasture that was adjoined to the stables. To her right was a magnificent garden, stretching around the corner of the palace. She could make out the corn and wheat, among dozens of other plants. In the far distance spotted a huge field of cotton plants, biding their time to be picked. Directly below her balcony was a small flower and rock garden.

  Silvia breathed in deeply of the warm air and felt the sun of the late morning heating her body. She grabbed the bottom of her veil and drew it completely back, letting it rest on her hair cover. She was already weary of having her vision obscured, no matter how slightly. She wondered if being able to physically see clearly would help her mind to see clearly as well. She was tired of everything—the secrets, deception, hatred, and fear…Why was Gregorich doing this to her? He had messed up her plans entirely by asking her to stay at the palace, and now she had a prince courting her, the King breathing down her neck, and her servants were in danger. Everything was getting so complicated. And why was Gregorich being so rude to her now? Did he suspect something? It didn’t seem likely, but she wasn’t going to take any chances by assuming he didn’t. She wished all of this would come to an end, whether good or bad, so that she could rest her anxiety.

  She had been standing there lost in her thoughts for a long time when she detected someone else’s presence. Spinning around she saw Keelan sitting in one of the chairs. She quickly looked about, wondering how long she had been outside, then went to sit with him. On the table were the other parcels Frero had brought back with him.

  “I should apologize to all of you for behaving so rashly,” she said softly.

  “Personally, I do not believe you acted with rashness in any way. After all, this is your home, not his.”

  “But that was quite close. I was a little frightened.”

  Keelan smiled. “You did not appear in the least frightened, and you played the part of an outraged, innocent guest quite well. I admit I was impressed. Perhaps you should start doing plays.”

  She tried to smile at his offering of humor. “I am horrified to think of what could have happened to Frero, had he not chanced to find this dagger. Is it from you?"

  “Yes—I picked it out today,” Keelan said. “Do you like it?” He gazed at her eagerly.

  Silvia was warmed to the heart. “You bought this for me?”

  “Yes. I thought you might like it,” he said worriedly.

  “Oh Keelan, thank you so very much! I shall wear it all that I can.” She looked at the dagger more closely and felt her heart skip with joy. She remembered the conversation she and Keelan had had about women and weapons. Curious, she said, “Keelan would you—“

  “I will try to teach you all I know about throwing it,” he interrupted. “But all in good time. First however, open your next gift.” He pushed the larger one towards her and watched her delicate fingers undo the wrappings with speed.

  Silvia stood up, holding the dress against her body. Her hands scoured the fabric gently and there were tears in her eyes. She spotted the shoes and exclaimed, “Oh, it is all so beautiful. I cannot wait to wear it!”

  “Wear it this evening,” Keelan said, adoring her smile. “I believe it should look quite fetching on you, milady. But something so lovely should have accessories.”

  “Accessories?” Silvia folded the dress carefully and seated herself again. “What do you mean?” The gifts had definitely improved her state of mind and eased her nerves.

  Keelan bade her to open the small satchel. Silvia immediately pulled out the bracelets and put them on, admiring their beauty. Then her eyes fell upon the ring. But before she could pick it up, Keelan snatched it away. She watched him rise from his chair and kneel before her.

  “My lady, this ring is the most special of all my gifts.” He held it by the band so she could see the gems. “The sapphire is for swimming in an endless sea of happiness. The emerald is for believing and hoping. The diamond is for everlasting love...And the amethyst is for sweet devotion.” He paused to clear his throat, collect his thoughts and to drudge up his courage. “Mistress,” he said softly, “when I see your adopted mother I will present this ring and ask for her blessing…that is, if you also consent.”

  “Blessing?” Silvia said.

  “Yes, blessing…My lady, if it pleases you, will you be my wife?”

  Silvia’s eyes overflowed. Her hands shook and she tried to speak, but was too overwhelmed. Keelan did not know what to make of her reaction. Expecting the worst he said, “If you are already betrothed or if I have offended you in any way I am sorry. I will understand if you do not accept, but please know that no matter what, I will love you always.”

  Her lower lip trembled as she spoke. “A more beautiful, loving gift could not have been given. But even had you not a ring or any other gifts, I would say yes. My heart has belonged to you for some time now, and I plead that you take it, as well as all my love. Yes, Keelan, I will be your wife.”

  He rose and took her face in one and kissed her lips tenderly as his other hand slid the ring onto her finger. Then clapping erupted behind them. Turning around they saw Frero, Hans, and Quentin grinning from ear to ear, happy as could be. She remembered Hans’ words earlier about her only being able to marry royalty, but when his gaze met hers he nodded in acceptance of the proposed union.

  Silvia and Keelan both thought it best that she not wear the ring at all, for it would raise too many questions. Wine was fetched to celebrate, however silently; all were happy and bad things were for the moment forgotten. When Silvia feigned sleepiness everyone left; even Keelan took leave to go with Quentin, Hans, and Frero for more celebrating (and, no doubt, advice on approaching Dessica on so delicate a subject). She locked the door behind them, slipped off her riding boots, and walked over to one of the bookshelves. She scanned the titles and saw much that interested her. But the one book she pulled out had fixed her attention. It was simply called Guide to Kieluna. In smaller print at the bottom of the cover it read: From Novice to Sorcerer, All Spells of Any Importance. The book was very large and heavy, the pages skillfully (or magically) sewn into the leather cover.

  Silvia hefted it into her arms and carried it to the plush couch, sinking into its soft green folds. There, she read for several hours locked in a world of a magic she had once loathed. She read very slowly and carefully and absorbed a lot of knowledge. She experimented with many spells and found she could do them quite easily, and that her fatigue from doing them was almost nonexistent. Several she memorized, as she thought she may use them in the future: how to create light without a fire; how to make her feet hover over the ground so she could glide; how to block certain spells. And the best part was that there was no need to say the enchantments and spells out loud if you had a strong enough concentration, although sometimes it helped to hear the words.

  Silvia was still engrossed in reading when she fell fast asleep.

  Motilda had been examining the contents of the wardrobes, looking for anything that could help her new mistress overthrow Gregorich. So far, she had found nothing useful. She turned then to the desk, brushing her long blonde mane away from her dirty face. She searched all of the drawers of the desk that would open, leaving no papers that she did not look at. Still nothing. She glanced at the one drawer on the desk that was locked and wondered if there was another, less obvious way to open it. Sitting on her knees, she peered at it closely. Twenty minutes later, she was going through the contents of the drawer, having found several secret latches on the underside of the drawer that released it. There were stacks and stacks of papers inside, as well as assorted odds and ends. Most of them she put aside in a neat pile to return to the drawer. But eventually she came upon a thin leather bound book. When she opened it, Motilda found that only the first few pages had been written in; however, she felt for unknown reasons that it was of importance and she put it aside to take with her.

&nb
sp; It was close to dusk outside and she had only gone through half of the drawer’s contents, when Motilda thought she heard footsteps in the corridor. She stuffed everything except the leather bound book back into the drawer and closed it quietly, making sure the secret latches were in place. The book was stuffed inside her dress just in time.

  The lock on the door clicked and in walked the King. “Set all of your cleaning tools outside the door; I’ll have someone pick them up.” He peered around the room, obviously not in a better temperament than before. “And no visitors?”

  “Not besides yourself, Sire.”

  He sneered as if she were lying. He walked towards her, a queer look in his eye. He walked a slow circle around her, trailing his fingers along her waist as he went. “Motilda,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and grabbing her buttocks fiercely, “do you know why anyone would want to come into this old room? Hmm? Do you know of anyone who has expressed interest in this room?”