Secret of the Dragon

by Jessica Drake

  “Excuse me, Miss Klaii.” A hand gently brushed my upper arm, and I turned to see one of the autocrator’s equerries standing behind me. My heart rate tripled—had someone seen through my disguise? “The autocrator would like a word with you. Will you come with me?”

  “I’d be delighted.” I glanced over and met the autocrator’s gaze, which was bright with interest. Of course he wanted to meet me—I was reputed to be the sexiest woman in the room, despite my lackluster performance. A part of me was disappointed in this predictably male reaction—when I’d met the autocrator in Zallabar he’d seemed fairly down to earth, a simple, austere man who eschewed fashion and material wealth. But that didn’t mean he didn’t suffer other weaknesses of the flesh, and besides, who was I to complain? This was my chance to take him out.

  "Your Excellency," I said, curtsying to the autocrator. As I did, I slipped the bottle of poison perfume from a fold in my skirt—I'd transferred it there from my purse for easier access after I'd been searched. The glass felt icy against my skin, or was it just that I was cold? A shiver of trepidation worked its way down my spine, and I felt my breath coming faster. There was no way I could pull this off without getting captured and killed, but at least Tavarian would remain out of harm's way. He would live to restore our republic, and Muza and his mate would have the chance to settle down and rear baby dragons. "It is an honor to meet you."

  “The pleasure is mine, Miyanta,” the autocrator said, and I nearly toppled over in shock. The voice that came out of his mouth was higher than the autocrator’s, and as I straightened up to get a better look, I saw that this man wasn’t the autocrator at all. Someone had found a convincing body double—a man of the same size and build who looked like the autocrator from a distance. “I have heard the tales of your legendary beauty, but they all pale in comparison to the reality.”

  “T-thank you,” I stammered, then blushed, hoping the ‘autocrator’ would just think I was bedazzled by his presence. If I hadn’t met the real autocrator in person, I would have never known I was talking to a fake! “You flatter me greatly,” I went on, recovering some of Miyanta’s air, “but surely you have met many women of great beauty, Your Excellency. I hear you have traveled the globe.”

  I flirted with the body double for another five minutes before I was finally escorted away, to be replaced by yet another woman. I guessed the fake autocrator didn't usually get to flirt with rich, beautiful women, and he was taking advantage while he could. Did the real autocrator intend to show up at all tonight? Discarding my half-empty champagne glass, I tried to worm my way back to Tavarian so I could warn him. We didn't need to risk our lives over a fake. Maybe we could find some way to slip out of here altogether.

  Unfortunately for me, Tavarian was now engaged in a spirited debate with four men of different nationalities. He caught my eye and gave me an apologetic look, indicating that he couldn’t break away just yet. Impatient, I stood off to the side and waited for him, scanning the crowd out of habit. A familiar mane of golden brown hair caught my eye, and I did a double take at the bronze-skinned man in the linen suit flirting with a woman by one of the pillars—was that Caor?

  I took a step forward, intending to investigate, and a wave of nausea nearly knocked me off my feet. Stumbling, I clapped a hand over my mouth, then barreled toward the ladies room, in the opposite direction of the Caor lookalike. I barely made it inside before vomiting into the toilet, my hands and knees braced on the cool pink marble.

  “Zara?” Lessie asked, her voice filled with concern. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know,” I gasped through the bond as I dry heaved into the toilet. Dragon’s balls, what had come over me? I didn’t actually have food poisoning, despite what I’d told that officer earlier, but if he’d seen me sprinting for the ladies’ room at least my story would carry more weight now. Was this part of some hallucination? Or did I really see Caor back there? What was he doing at the reception? The only time he appeared was when he wanted to lecture or warn me about something.

  “You need to get out of there,” Lessie hissed. “What if that champagne had some kind of poison in it? Maybe the autocrator is planning on killing everyone on the guest list!”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said as I stood up. “He didn’t bring us here to murder everyone. Besides, I’m feeling better already.” It was true. The nausea had hit me hard, but it was gone, and so was the dizziness. In fact, I was feeling so much better I was starting to feel a little suspicious.

  I walked over to the washstand and grabbed a cloth, then dipped the corner into the water. But as I turned to the mirror, the cloth fell from my hand to plop wetly on the floor. “Dragon’s balls!” I swore as I stared at my reflection. I was Zara once more, right down to my curly red hair and pale skin. Even the magic Tavarian had used to alter the dress had been undone—the bosom gaped in a most unseemly way around my much smaller breasts, the fabric was way too loose around my hips, and the skirt puddled on the floor around me, too long for my shorter frame. Even if I somehow managed to hide my hair and face, I couldn’t go back out there like this!

  Caor chose that moment to pop into the ladies room, still dressed in his linen suit. “You got out of the hall just in time,” he said without preamble, his normally fey features set into worried lines. "The real autocrator arrived a few minutes ago, with Salcombe at his side. Apparently he found a rare magical artifact amongst the Elantian loot the Zallabarians had collected that can suppress all magical activity within a half-mile radius. It doesn't affect deities like myself, of course," he added, a little smugly, "but it canceled out that disguise spell Tavarian cast on you. If you hadn't gotten away in the nick of time you would have been exposed."

  “Oh no,” I breathed as the dawning horror of realization hit me. Tavarian was still out there, completely exposed! Not only would he no longer be able to use the death spell, but his own disguise would have unraveled by now. “I have to help him!”

  Caor seized my upper arm before I could dash out the door. “And what are you going to do, exactly?” he demanded. “Salcombe has given your and Tavarian’s description to the guards—they will already have arrested him. It seems he has already saved the autocrator from two magical attacks, and gained the man’s implicit trust. He goes with the autocrator everywhere now, especially to any place where there is the slightest risk of magical attack, like here. There is no way you can go out there and remain undetected.”

  “What the hell is he even doing with the autocrator?” I cried, ready to tear my hair out. Dammit, would I ever be free of that infernal man? “Salcombe doesn’t care about this war! He just cares about serving the dragon god!”

  “Exactly,” Caor said dryly, “and since you have removed two pieces of heart from this plane of existence, Salcombe has been forced to seek other avenues to fulfill the dragon god’s wishes. I believe he is offering his services to Autocrator Reichstein in exchange for a divine artifact that will help the dragon god manifest in the human realm. I’m not certain if he already has it in his possession or not.”

  "What?" My heart dropped into Miyanta's heels, which were now two sizes too small for me and pinching my toes. Frustrated, I kicked them off, and they crashed into the wall, the pointed stilettos cracking one of the pretty tiles. "But I thought you said the dragon god would need a whole cult of believers to manifest in our world again!"

  “Ordinarily, yes,” Caor said. “But the artifact in question is an ancient gem that was given to a human woman long ago by Astiar, the god of dreams, to resurrect her after she'd died. It is not powerful enough to bring the dragon god back entirely, but I fear it can still give his spirit enough of a boost that he will be able to influence our world directly. That is, if the artifact truly is in the autocrator’s possession. I am not certain Reichstein actually has it.”

  I shook my head. “Salcombe wouldn’t be helping him unless he was certain the autocrator had it,” I said, pacing the marble floor with my bare feet. “How do you even know
about—”

  The door swung open, and Caor disappeared as the woman in the lavender dress rushed into the room, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. “Skies above, you’ll never guess what just happened!” she started to gush, then skidded to a stop. “Wait a minute, you’re not Miyanta. Who are you? Guards!”

  15

  I didn’t have time to think—I just reacted. Leaping forward, I slammed my fist into the woman’s jaw, and she stumbled into the damaged wall. Her dark eyes fluttered closed, and she slid to the floor in a frothy lavender puddle, already unconscious. Quickly, I divested her of her wig and clothes, and donned them, tossing Miyanta’s skimpy dress onto her naked body after I’d shimmied out of it. The lavender dress was a much closer fit to my own figure, if a bit too ostentatious for my tastes, and the wig had been pre-styled into a towering up-do that was more than large enough for me to stuff my hair under. Miyanta’s dark makeup looked ludicrous on my pale complexion, but combined with the wig I looked nothing like myself, so I decided to keep it. I dragged the woman into a supply closet just down the hall, praying to any gods that might be listening that she would stay unconscious long enough for me to get out of here.

  As I rushed back to the hall, I found a lacy fan tucked into the widow’s skirts, so I snapped it open and fanned myself as I entered the room, assessing the crowd from behind it. Thankfully, the fan wasn’t necessary—nobody was paying any attention to me at all. They were all focused on the real autocrator, who had finally arrived. The impostor must have slipped away discreetly, as he was nowhere to be seen.

  The guest of honor was surrounded by a group of officers, and as Caor had warned. Salcombe hovered protectively at his left side. I was vindictively pleased to see he looked like a frail old man once more—the dragon god must have withdrawn the restorative properties of the elixir he’d been drinking to make himself appear young and healthy again. But my pleasure was short-lived as I caught sight of Tavarian, who was being shackled and trussed up by a pair of the autocrator’s trusted dragoons.

  “I wish I could say I was surprised,” the autocrator said as the guards forced Tavarian to his knees, “but Salcombe warned me that you and your redheaded thief might come here tonight. I didn’t think a man of your position would stoop to assassination, but it appears I was wrong. You aren’t like those other dragon rider officials who’ve gone soft and complacent in the lap of luxury, are you, Lord Tavarian? You’re a warrior, like me.”

  “I am nothing like you,” Tavarian said as he met the autocrator’s gaze. He showed no fear, his expression ice cold despite his tousled hair and flushed cheeks—signs of his exertions from struggling against the guards. He didn’t struggle now that he was bound though—Tavarian was all about economy of movement, and would consider it a waste of time. “I fight to save lives, not subjugate them.”

  “Please.” The autocrator waved a hand, which was unadorned aside from a single signet ring. He wore the same outfit as his body double, but the air of command around him was unmistakable, something the other man hadn’t been able to replicate. “Your country was falling apart anyway. I simply accelerated the process. Elantia will prosper under my rule now that it is no longer fettered by your antiquated customs and traditions. The age of technology is upon us. It is too bad you will not be around to enjoy it with us.”

  “Where is Zara?” Salcombe demanded. “You came here with a woman tonight, didn’t you? Some well-known courtesan?”

  “Sir, he was with Miyanta Klaii,” the officer I’d flirted with earlier said, stepping up to address the autocrator. He stiffened when several of the dragoons pointed pistols at him, and held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. “I spoke with her earlier, and she seemed different somehow. Not like herself.”

  Salcombe nodded. “Probably Zara in disguise, then,” he said knowingly. “Your Excellency, I suggest you tell the guards to be on high alert looking for anyone who resembles either Zara or Miyanta. The artifact I recovered should have stripped her disguise, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  “Very well.” The autocrator gave the order to one of his dragoons, who went to relay it to the other guards. “Salcombe, Lord Tavarian is a mere dragon rider, is he not? How was he able to change his face, and that of his companion’s?”

  Salcombe frowned. “He must be working with a mage,” he said, and I sighed in relief. I was worried that Salcombe might have discovered that Tavarian himself was half-mage, but that secret was still safe. “Though how he managed to convince a mage to join the resistance is beyond me. They are loners and recluses, the lot of them, not predisposed to working with others. He is a clever one," Salcombe warned the autocrator, "so beware of his silver tongue. I hear he has convinced the Warosians to side with him, even though these rebels are fighting a losing battle." His eyes glittered, and I knew he was baiting Tavarian, trying to get him to reveal information by making him angry. But Tavarian merely stared ahead stoically, refusing to engage, and I blinked back tears as a wave of pride and grief swelled in my chest.

  “Interesting.” The autocrator studied Tavarian through narrowed eyes. “Take him away, but do not harm him yet. He will be interrogated thoroughly before we execute him.”

  The guards dragged Tavarian from the room, and I dug my nails into my palms as panic clawed at me. What should I do? Our assassination attempt was ruined—there was no way I could get to the autocrator now, not with Salcombe at his side. Should I follow after Tavarian and see if I could free him before the guards locked him up? What if they ignored the autocrator’s orders and shot him anyway?

  “Have courage, Zara.” Lessie sent a wave of soothing energy down the bond. “Tavarian is not a useless toff to be easily dispatched. He’ll use his magic to get away as soon as he is out of range. You need to focus on getting out of there and away from Salcombe before he sniffs you out.”

  "Right." I took several deep breaths to calm myself, thankful for Lessie's influence. She usually was the hot-headed one, but in times like this she centered me, giving me the ability to think in stressful situations. I glanced over at the autocrator, who was now calmly chatting with several high-level guests to allay the alarm buzzing through the room. Salcombe was still by his side, and I studied him out of the corner of my eye, trying to discern where this mysterious artifact was. Had he hidden it in his pocket? I noticed he hadn't bragged about it to Tavarian. The bastard probably knew I was still in the room and didn't want to give me an opening to steal it.

  Knowing I couldn’t leave before the autocrator retired, at least not without arousing suspicion, I slunk behind some statuary and pretended to admire a huge painting hanging on the wall. Several men came up to talk to me, but I affected a vapid cheerfulness that quickly drove them away. I waited for a good forty-five minutes until the autocrator finally left the room, Salcombe and his guards in tow, then waited another fifteen before making my own exit. I slipped into the hallway, wincing at the loud clacking noise my heels made against the hard floors—I wished I could have worn my boots, but they would have stuck out like a sore thumb paired with Miyanta’s fancy dress. I ducked into an alcove and removed the shoes, hooking the straps over my thumb, then crept on silent feet down the hallway, searching for a servants’ corridor I could use to get out.

  I managed to make it onto the grounds without running into anyone, but I had to dodge two patrols out in the gardens. My voluminous skirts tangled around my legs as I hurried through the grass, and I was forced to gird my loins so I could vault safely over the back gate without getting the fabric caught on the wrought iron posts.

  “Oi!” a voice yelled as I landed heavily on the other side. A burst of fear galvanized me into action, and I darted down the hillside, trying to put as much distance between myself and the guard as possible. There was no way I could outrun anyone in the heels, so I tossed them at the feet of a small tree and raced into the winding streets. Luckily the King’s Palace was smack dab in the middle of the city, so I didn’t have to run very far to find an alley to disap
pear into. The third door I tried was unlocked, so I slipped into the back of what turned out to be a restaurant kitchen, and nearly ran into a boy carrying a huge stack of plates.

  “Sorry,” I whispered as I slipped past him and between two narrow shelves that held various cooking instruments. I walked through the double doors leading into the restaurant before the kitchen staff could stop and question me, then calmly walked to the front entrance and into the street. I wished I’d been able to change my clothes, but I would just have to wing it and hope the guards didn’t get a good look at me. For all I knew they’d decided I was a stray animal, and had decided not to pursue me at all.

  “Get to the mansion,” Lessie said urgently as I walked to the corner. “Serpol will meet you there.”

  "I can't leave," I told her as I flagged down a hansom. I hopped into the back of the two-wheeled carriage and gave the driver directions to Nole's mansion. "I need to rescue Tavarian."

  “I know that,” Lessie said impatiently, “and we’re not going to let you do it alone. Just stop arguing and get to the rooftop, will you?”

  “Fine, fine,” I grumbled, though secretly I was relieved. Rescuing Tavarian would be much easier with a dragon by my side, and since Serpol could make himself invisible he could fly me around without drawing attention. “But I need to get my weapons.”

  The carriage ride seemed to take an excruciatingly long time, though in reality it was probably only ten minutes. By the time the driver pulled up to the house I was chomping at the bit to get out, but I forced myself to exit the conveyance and walk up the path to the house in a leisurely manner, not wanting to draw attention to myself. As soon as I was inside, I raced to the bedroom, stripping off my clothes as I went. I changed into a sensible pair of trousers and a blouse, traded out the ridiculous heels for my spelled boots, and strapped my weapons back on. The weight of my dragon blade, tucked into its sheath, felt comforting against my leg, and I realized just how unnerving it had been to walk into the enemy’s den unarmed. If not for Caor’s timely warning, I would have shared the same fate as Tavarian. No, actually, it would have been worse, for Salcombe would have wanted to draw out my torment, to make me pay for defying him and foiling his plans.