"I haven't taken it at all, yet," I responded. "But once you leave, I will be."
"And turfing them all out onto the street so you can be alone in this big drafty castle?"
"Of course not," I protested. "If they want to stay here, then they can."
"That's very generous of you."
Dart woke up at the sound of his voice and craned her neck in his direction before pawing on the soft fabric of my gown. I'd been back to the secret dress room to find some nicer things to wear. If what Raynor had told me was true, then the dresses belonged to my ancestors anyway. Potentially even my Mother, which meant I had every right to wear them.
"Not generous. They don't deserve to be left without a home simply because the Duchess did something bad," I pointed out.
"You'll make a great ruler, one day," he observed wistfully.
"Of this tiny bit of land, no doubt."
"Your Duchy is actually rather large. If you have a map, I can point it out to you later, if you want me to."
I thought about it for a moment.
"I'd like that."
"So, you're not going to pull away from me this time?"
I studied him. Was that why he was here? Did he want me to tell him he had nothing to worry about and I wasn't repulsed by him?
"That didn't have anything to do with you," I promised.
"I know." He rubbed a hand over his face. "When Mother asked if she could meet the woman who saved my life, I had to tell her I'd done something to make you run away. She got the full rundown of events from me, then called me a lovesick fool and explained that pulling away had nothing to do with me, and was your way of worrying that I wouldn't see you the same after the fire ropes." A loving grin spread over his face as he talked about his Mother. At least I now knew she was still around. It answered one of the questions I had about him.
"She sounds like a wise woman."
"She is," he acknowledged. "Because she also told me that if I came to visit after a few days, you'd be willing to talk to me. And perhaps willing to accept a gift."
"I guess that depends on the gift," I countered.
He chuckled. "It's more returning something." He picked up the box he'd brought into the room with him and handed it to me.
I moved Dart off my lap so I could lean forward and take it from him, placing her on the chair next to me. She barely moved, even to tell me off for the moving. My fingers brushed against Raynor's as I took the box from him, sending tingles throughout my entire body.
It wasn't a very heavy box, which only confused me about the size. Shouldn't it be smaller if it was something so light? Unable to put aside my curiosity, I lifted the lid.
Laughter bubbled out of me. "My shoes."
"Well, yes. I thought you might want them back." Raynor glanced down, clearly embarrassed by the situation. "Though there is a difference. I had one of the Mages at court enchant them so they'll break any memory spell put over you when you put them on."
My eyes widened. "A memory spell?"
"You don't seem to have any memories of your Father, if I'm guessing right?"
I swallowed and nodded.
"But you were seven or eight the last time anyone saw you. There should be memories there. Which means that the Duchess placed some kind of spell on you. These will break it."
My eyes began to water, but I pushed the tears back. Now wasn't the time to be getting all emotional. "Thank you, you have no idea what that means to me."
"I'd also like to invite you to the palace along with the other nobles who live there," he said. "The Mages can teach you how to control your fire magic better, and perhaps we can court one another."
I sucked in a breath. He wanted to court me? Our kiss had been perfect, but then he'd seen me do crazy things with magic. Surely, he wouldn't want anything to do with me now.
"You don't have to accept it now," he said softly. "The offer will always be open."
"Can Dart come?" I blurted. Now I realised I could be out in the open with her, I wasn't ready to give her up.
He frowned, not having expected that line of questioning. "Of course. Many of the nobles bring pets, though I don't think many of them have dragons. You'll be the envy of the court with her."
"I'm sure that'd be true even if everyone had dragons."
"You have a point there." He paused for a moment. "Does that mean you accept?"
I nodded. "I have to settle some things here first, but after that, I will return to the palace with you."
"And you'll let me court you?"
"Yes," I whispered, hardly believing what I was saying. "I'd like nothing better."
Epilogue
One Year Later...
"Dart, you can't stay there," I scolded as the small dragon tried to hide in my bouquet. "You realise I'll be throwing it in the air at one point?"
She chuffed, but left the flowers alone anyway.
"You can ride on my shoulder?" I suggested. Everyone was used to my dragon companion by now, and most people would find it odd if I didn't have her with me on my wedding day.
She didn't make any noise, but jumped into the air and soared towards me, landing on my shoulder. At least I'd had the foresight to tell the royal seamstresses not to put any delicate lace on my shoulders. Dart was good at not causing me any harm, but fabric was another matter.
"We're ready for you," one of the officials told me.
I smiled. This was it. I was going to marry the man who'd changed my life, even if it had been an accident. Once we'd started courting, it had become evident this was going to be the path we'd follow. And I hadn't looked back.
The music began to play, cueing me that it was my time to walk down the centre of the aisle. I took a steadying breath. Even if I wasn't nervous about what the future held, there were a lot of eyes on me today. And I supposed there would be for the rest of my life. When the day was over, I'd be a Princess. When Raynor became King, I'd be his Queen. This was certainly not the way I thought my life would go when I woke up the day he arrived at the Duchess' castle.
I nodded to the people in the crowd as I passed. Some of them I knew, most I didn't. There were a few ladies who openly despised me for having caught the eye of the Prince. I had to keep my eyes on them or they'd try and steal my place. Not that I worried Raynor would stray. He wouldn't. But his Court was full of men and women who would kill for an advantage, the Duchess and Lord Daryll had been proof of that.
A pang of sadness travelled through me at the thought. My Father should be here today, walking me down the aisle to marry the son of his greatest friend. But that wasn't going to be the case. The Matron had told me the Duchess made my Father disappeared, which I assumed meant she'd killed him, but I wasn't sure about that. If I'd been able to punish the woman all over again, then I would. But her sentence had been carried out the day I'd returned to the palace with Raynor. A life in prison with no chance of escape. And terrible meals, I'd been assured. Lord Daryll hadn't been so lucky, and had paid the price for their plot with his life.
I pushed those thoughts aside. I was a bride on her wedding day, I shouldn't be thinking about such morbid things. Not with a life full of happiness in front of me.
I nodded to Jill and Nancy as I passed them. Jill had taken over the running of the castle in my absence, after I'd fired the Matron, and it was seeing a bountiful harvest under her rule. Nancy had left when I'd given her the option, and had become a businesswoman of some kind. They were both doing well for themselves if the quality of their clothing was anything to go by.
Dart chittered in excitement as Raynor stepped forward. I hadn't been able to see him through the crowd, but now I did, my heart skipped a beat. He was as handsome as ever in his military uniform.
A smile spread over his face, and he gave me a little wave.
I made the same gesture back, enjoying the familiarity with which we could communicate now. It wasn't proper of us to do this, but no one would care. We were two people in love, and that was something to be
celebrated over anything.
He didn't wait for me to come to him. Instead, he strode down the aisle and took one of my hands in his. Dart jumped from her perch and flapped her wings, diving around us and making all kinds of happy sounds. She was so easily pleased sometimes. But I loved that.
"You look beautiful," he whispered.
"You don't look so bad yourself," I teased.
He tugged me to him, and despite the fact I knew this went against protocol, I went with him.
His lips pressed against mine in a deep kiss. I relaxed into it, enjoying the feel of him by me. I was dimly aware of the gasps and shock of the people around us, but they could wait.
We broke apart, broad grins on our faces.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait all the way through the ceremony to do that," he admitted.
I laughed lightly. "It's a good job you're royalty, you wouldn't be able to get away with anything otherwise."
A small smirk lifted the side of his mouth. "Then we'll be eternally grateful that's the case." He held out his arm for me. "Would you like to get married now, Duchess?"
"You won't be calling me that for much longer," I pointed out.
Dart landed back on my shoulder. She must have sensed that we were done with our kiss.
"No, I'll be calling you wife," he teased.
"And I can't wait."
We stood before the altar, ready to say our vows and begin our happily ever after.
The End
Thank you for reading Tainted Ashes, I hope you enjoyed it! I have plenty more dragons and fairy tales! If you want more, you can get Tower Of Thorns for free here: http://bit.ly/RapunzelDMFree
About the Author
Laura is a USA Today Bestselling Author of paranormal, fantasy, and contemporary romance. When she's not writing, she can be found drinking ridiculous amounts of tea, trying to resist French Macaroons, and watching the Pitch Perfect trilogy for the hundredth time (at least!)
Tales of Dunes and Dragons: A Luminous Lands Novella
Juliet Vane
Tales of Dunes and Dragons © 2020 Juliet Vane
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Chapter 1
The dragon’s love is fierce. It consumes everything.
My opponent’s sword clashes against mine. The impact reverberates up my arm, causing my already aching bicep to ache even more. A bead of sweat rolls away from my temple and down my cheek.
Spinning around, I sweep out with my left leg to catch Orion’s ankles. He leaps, dodging the blow, so I reach up and grab his forearm.
He wasn’t expecting that move, and it causes him to lose his balance. More fool me, because when he falls, I’m beneath him.
We tumble to the dusty courtyard tiles. Orion’s elbow jams into my gut. The blunt blow steals my breath. I can’t bring in air, I can’t even gasp. He rolls off of me, looking horrified.
“Inez?” He holds out a hand to help me up, but I can’t take it.
Soon, I will draw breath. I know it. This isn’t the first time I’ve had the wind knocked out of me, and it likely won’t be the last.
Markus and Ben, who were sparring nearby, drop their sword arms to come check on me.
I wave them away. Orion, too.
After a few moments, my stomach and chest loosen, and I can finally bring in air.
“I’m fine,” I croak at Orion.
His hand is still out; he’s waiting for me to accept his help.
My gaze flicks to Master Kenneth, whose eyes are hidden by the only substantial shade in the courtyard—thrown by an ancient, towering palm just outside the city walls.
Master Kenneth would tell me that a warrior knows how to be gracious and accept help.
Master Kenneth is not aware of the current of heat that flows from Orion to me every time I touch his skin.
I dread that heat as much as I crave it.
Bracing myself, I take Orion’s hand and allow him to help me up. His palm is hotter than the sun-scorched dunes. As much as I have come to loathe the heat, for the dwindling water supply and the hundreds of parched throats, I want to keep Orion’s hand in mine and feel his heat.
The water shortage has addled my mind.
Dropping Orion’s hand, I bend to pick up my sword to resume our sparring.
“Rest.” Master Kenneth doesn’t raise his voice. He has never needed to, not once, not even for the younger students.
I pluck my sword from the dust, wipe it on my leggings, then slide it into its scabbard. I look for shade to rest in, but the narrow band of it along the wall, perhaps the width of a hand, has already been claimed by the children.
Next to me, Orion chuckles. I turn to look at him, at his shaggy, light brown hair, his strong jaw, the dimple that appears in his cheek when he smiles.
“Your longing expression at the shade,” he explains.
I quickly look away, toward the far end of the courtyard. At the edge is the path that leads to the center of the city.
At the center of every desert city is a well.
Our well is failing.
The City of Sand is slowly dying. Traders have brought word that the City of Stars faces the same fate. Not long ago, our two cities were separate kingdoms. We have united into the Kingdom of Sand and Stars, only to what? Dry out into husks of bone and leathery flesh? What good is Nima’s redemption of our kingdom if all we’re meant to do is waste away?
Maybe we should have allowed the windhaunts to take us, after all. At least our misery would be shorter-lived.
Orion’s fingers grip mine, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Someone has come,” he says.
“At midday?” No one travels the dunes while the sun is high.
“I hear their sled,” he adds.
Cocking my head, I hear the hush, hush sound of sled tracks on sand. “Then their wolves are silent.”
None of the children have noticed the approaching travelers, distracted as they are by their chatter, but Master Kenneth meets my gaze when Orion and I look to him.
“Go,” he mouths.
We leave the courtyard, Ben and Markus on our heels. We pass the well, where a lone chicken scratches the dirt beside it, and make our way around white, sun-bleached buildings. We pass the open circle and its raised platform where my best friend, Nima Storyteller, used to spin her tales, and then we face the great round stone that blocks the western entrance.
Markus marches forward to start rolling the stone aside, but I say, “Wait. We need to be sure they’re friends, not foes.”
Markus’s mouth twists—he doesn’t like being corrected—but he waves an arm, inviting me to climb the ladder.
There are words between the two of us that ought to be spoken. Apologies. Explanations. The two of us, with Nima, had been the closest of friends. That seems so long ago, now.
I scale the ladder leading to the top of the wide city wall, then peer beyond the bells hanging from strings. A sled is making excruciatingly slow progress over the sand. Their wolves are fatigued, their paws likely aching from the sun-burned sand. The sled holds perhaps four people, no more than six.
After climbing down the ladder, I find Elda, our city’s leader, waiting for me.
Her green eye
s are thoughtful as I report what I saw.
“If they are foes,” I say, “they aren’t in a position to harm us.”
She nods. “We’ll allow them in.”
Markus doesn’t look at me even though we work side-by-side to roll the stone away.
It doesn’t take long before their wolves enter our city, the sled sliding along behind them. The travelers bear sunburns on sun darkened skin. Their lips are chapped, their skin dry.
Our wolf handlers tend to their wolves, unharnessing them from the sled and bringing them to our stables.
There are four travelers—two men and two women. Four more throats to drink our water, plus their nine wolves. Elda’s lips thin as she surveys them.
One of the men steps forward. His face is creased with age. Like those of his companions, his tunic and trousers look travel-worn and dusty. This is no rich trader, coming to exchange goods for mutual benefit.
“Thank you.” His voice sounds like it might usually be a deep baritone, low like our largest kettle drum, but now it is raspy like scales over sand.
“Who are you?” Elda asks.
“I am called Caleb,” he says. “With me are Melina, Fran, and Petre.” He gestures to the people with him in turn. Melina is around my age and has long, blond hair bleached nearly white by the sun. Strange tattoos cover her hands. Fran is close to Elda’s age, with a wrinkled face like Caleb’s. Petre looks to be a year or two older than I am, and his clothing is the best of theirs—a brilliant green tunic paired with faded black trousers. His outfit is sandy and unkempt, but the fabric is of strong quality. His hair is nearly as blond as Melina’s.
“Forgive my rudeness,” Elda says, “but these are thirsty times. Why have you come? We don’t have much to share.”
Desert hospitality is a strange thing. If you judge someone to be your enemy, you do not have to invite them into your tent or into your kingdom. But once they are there, you must care for them, treat them as lost siblings.
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