The Color of Dragons

by R. A. Salvatore

  She brought the wool over her shoulders, closing the clasp at her neck. She was really going.

  Griffin blocked the door. “I won’t help you free a creature that will hurt innocent people!”

  She stamped her foot. “How do you know she’ll hurt anyone?”

  “How do you know she won’t?” He unclasped the cloak. It fell on the floor behind her.

  “What are you, a child?” She picked up the cloak. “You’re being ridiculous!”

  “And you’re being impetuous! I know you think that creature is linked to you—”

  “Think? I know she is, Griffin. But you don’t believe me, do you?” She stepped back, crossing her arms.

  The door rattled. Someone knocked hard. It was locked but Griffin leaned on it anyway. Whoever was on the other side pounded impatiently.

  “Maggie? Are you in there?”

  It was Jori. He would stop her.

  Griffin yanked the door open. “Sire.”

  Jori’s hands slipped formally behind his back but he didn’t enter the room. “Griffin. What are you—”

  “He helped me with Bradyn after you refused,” Maggie said bitterly.

  Jori looked completely flummoxed. “I didn’t refuse, Maggie. My father—”

  “Yes, well, doesn’t matter now.” She waved, literally dismissing the prince.

  Petal walked past the prince and around Griffin, bringing fresh linens. She eyed them both as if they had the plague.

  Maggie waved them out the door.

  “It’s late and I have to be up very early in the morning. Good night, Sir Griffin. Prince Jori. I will see you both at the tournament.” She closed the door, throwing the bolt.

  “Was that her way of asking us to leave?” the prince asked.

  “I believe it was.”

  “Women.”

  Prince Jori hardly spoke on the return to their side of the castle until they reached Griffin’s door. He was about to say good night when the prince asked, “Why does she have to be up early?”

  Griffin’s heart lodged in his throat. Why hadn’t he picked up on that? “To rehearse with Xavier before the tournament.” One day soon, these lies on her behalf were going to catch up with him.

  “I see. Well, good night, Griffin. And good luck tomorrow.”

  As Jori walked away, Griffin was tempted to go back to Maggie’s room and seal up the hidden passageway he’d taken her through, but what was the point. She was going to try to free Rendicryss and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

  Thirteen

  Maggie

  I woke before dawn, dressing in the dark, hoping not to wake Petal. I intended to use the secret passageway Griffin had showed me to sneak out of my room and leave the castle for the Oughtnoch. Risky, yes, but it was necessary for two vital reasons. One, to see if Rendicryss could show me any memories that might help me wield the moonlight. And two, to see if said power could break her Phantombronze bonds. But I never made it out of my room.

  As I reached for my cloak, there was a knock at the door. Petal came around the screen, yawning, her eyes bulging when she saw I was dressed. I had chosen the blue, which had returned from the laundry looking better than new. I couldn’t decide if she stared that way because I was already dressed or because I had put the dress on myself. Voluntarily.

  “Good morning,” Prince Jori sang, sweeping into the room uninvited. With his fair hair pulled back, dressed in all red—tunic, trousers, and boots—he was a triumphant tribute to his father. His hand rested on the pommel of a dagger’s jeweled grip. I suspected it was Griffin’s Phantombronze knife he’d lost betting against me.

  Serves him right.

  Petal retreated behind the screen.

  Holding a small wooden box seated in his armpit, he skated toward me. His warm brown stare floated from my loosely braided hair to my laced boots. “I’m most glad I caught you. Griffin said you were rehearsing this morning with Xavier. It utterly escaped my mind that you didn’t know.”

  I would have to remember to thank Griffin for the excuse. How could I have so stupidly revealed my plan? “Know what precisely?”

  “Xavier’s lodgings were moved into the king’s tower.”

  That sounded ominous. “Why? I thought the bargain was—”

  “Ah yes, the bargain was for you and Xavier to have no guards and be free to rehearse without constant supervision. A relief that has been afforded to you. But my father worries that word has spread already. I questioned Buffont myself on my way here and it seems Bradyn told his father that Xavier threw him across the room with magic. A story repeated to Bradyn’s mother, as well as Sander, the court physician, and, well, I’m sure by midday, all of the melee participants will know.”

  With that, I needed to sit. I claimed the chair near the smoldering fire. Jori claimed the other. “What does all that mean?”

  “For Xavier? It means he will be heavily guarded. But you will have space. No guards. You’re free to move about the palace grounds. Beyond that, I would ask that you let me accompany you or someone I trust on any excursions in the city.”

  “What about our rehearsals?”

  “No. Xavier will need to fend for himself, at least for now.” Jori smiled.

  I cringed with worry. Xavier would not last long under the king’s scrutiny. “May I see Xavier?”

  “You will. On the dais.” Jori lifted the box out from his armpit. “Blue is utter perfection on you.”

  Why did it turn my stomach when he complimented me, yet not when Griffin did? It felt unfair, but there was no denying the difference. Still, I thanked him. If nothing else, I was hoping it would get him out of my room.

  “I have a gift for you. I know you said you don’t like jewels, but . . .” He opened the box. Inside was a stunning cabochon sapphire pendant and matching ring. “They were my mother’s.”

  “They’re beautiful. But Jori, I can’t accept—”

  “I know she would be happy to have you wear them in her stead.”

  “What about Esmera?”

  “These are much too small for her. She’ll take no notice.”

  I laughed, but my resolve waned. These gems could be useful.

  “I cannot forgive myself for letting Raleigh nearly cut off your beautiful hand.” He lifted my fingers to his lips, kissing the back of my hand. “I knew you were a woman, and yet I hesitated.”

  “Your father’s men are vicious. I hope when you are king that you will stop them from pillaging the Hinterlands,” I offered as a parting piece of advice.

  “I will be a very different kind of king, Maggie,” he promised. “If I may?” He held up the necklace.

  I stood and gave him my back, allowing him to fasten it around my neck. When I turned, he touched the pendant, straightening the gold chain, letting his fingers linger too long on my chest.

  I stepped back. “Was this a gift, or are you expecting something in return?” I reached back to undo the clasp. “If that’s why—”

  “No!” Momentary anger flickered across his face, but he recovered quickly. “It is a gift. Please. Keep it. Blue is definitely your color.”

  Another knock at the door brought a large breakfast.

  “Since we’re both up early, I thought we could have breakfast here? Get to know each other better. Then we don’t have to worry about Esmera.”

  It felt wrong to refuse. And for once, he was asking rather than ordering, so I said yes.

  We ate at the small table. An intimate affair, with Petal serving freshly baked bread, poached eggs, honeyed ham, and spiced warm water. Petal tossed worried glares at me throughout. She didn’t like the prince, especially him being in my room, that much was clear.

  Prince Jori talked, mostly of growing up in the palace in the Walled City, at the Top of his father’s kingdom.

  “My father sent me on missions from an early age. I would take riding and sword skills lessons with the old lairds’ children, but during those times I was tasked with asking a great many questi
ons.”

  “About what?” I sipped the spiced water.

  “Their old lands. Their old homes. What their houses were like. Did they leave anything important behind when they moved into the Walled City.”

  “Anything important? Like what?”

  “Weapons, wealth, a son who might challenge the throne. It is my father’s greatest fear, that someone will take it all.”

  “Did you ever learn anything?”

  Jori nodded, smiling whimsically. “That I was a terrible spy.”

  I laughed. “I could see that.”

  He visibly relaxed. His shoulders slumped; he extended his legs, crossing them at the ankles. For the first time, it seemed the prince was content to set aside his invisible bravado armor. I could see how he could be charming. “He could too, I’m afraid. It was the beginning of the end of his respect for me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged as if it didn’t bother him, but I could tell it did. “Made it very difficult to keep friends. No one trusted me, until Griffin, that is. He was the most honest, true person I ever met, until you.”

  I smiled at the compliment.

  “My father admired Griffin. Saw in him a young Raleigh. A scrapper. Taking what he wanted rather than waiting for it to be handed to him. He let him into our lives with no questions asked.”

  I didn’t want to talk about Griffin. “It couldn’t have been easy, when you were small.”

  “I had my mother, until I was nine. Then my father took her from me.” Jori picked at his manchet, his eyes glossing over, his brows furrowing. His expression turning cold.

  “Took her how?”

  “Told me she fell to her death crossing the bridge to their shared tower, but I knew better.”

  “Your father killed her?”

  “I snuck in the tower every day to sleep by her side. I never liked to sleep alone. I would hide in her wardrobe when my father would enter. I heard the fights. Mostly they would argue about me. Over his treatment of me. He was difficult, especially when he didn’t get his way.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Crinkles formed around his eyes with his knowing grin. “Enough of my pathetic whining. So, tell me of your mother?”

  The woman in Rendicryss’s memory I called Mother was evil. She beat me. She tried to kill Rendicryss. She said she was going to kill me, and when I ran, she cursed me. She took my power from me. I hated her. She was nothing like Jori’s. If anything, she was like his father. Waiting to take away what I had and give it to that tormenting Armel. Perhaps I should feel grateful my memories of them were wiped clean. “I don’t remember her.”

  “Xavier told me she died when you were born.”

  I nodded. “Yes. That is what he told me too.”

  He blinked repeatedly at my answer. “I suppose we have that in common, then.”

  “I think a life of knowing a mother and having her taken away would be harder than never knowing one at all. I have nothing to miss. No shared laughs. No warm hugs. You, on the other hand . . .” My finger lifted to the smooth sapphire. “. . . lost something special.”

  If he wished me to see him as the sad broken prince, it worked. His loneliness was palpable, but his desperation was too.

  He broke a piece of bread off and fed it to me like I was a child.

  “I can feed myself.”

  “I’ve seen. But I like taking care of you, Maggie. Is it so hard to let down your formidable guard and accept my hand as genuine? Let me take care of you a little? You don’t have to go it alone.”

  It wasn’t an order, and I supposed I could let him—a little. But I wasn’t altogether confident there wasn’t hidden meaning in what he was asking. I clarified. “It isn’t so hard, sire.” I half smiled. “But it would be helpful if you would allow me to ask for things, rather than have them foisted upon me. My formidable guard typically acts on instinct. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt—by accident.”

  He laughed heartily.

  After breakfast, it was time to go to the arena. The prince strapped on my cloak, and I let him, only rolling my eyes after he turned to open the door. The wool was a welcome layer against the cold in the hallway. As the corridor sloped and we started down the stairs, I asked about which draignoch would be fighting today.

  “Will it be the one you caught when we met?”

  “A magnificent monster. So much larger than the others. I know you have a strange affinity for it. Don’t worry. Although that kind of power must never go free, it hasn’t been harmed, if that’s why you frown. It will be able to defend itself.”

  “Will it fight today?”

  “Against Oak?” He shook his head. “No. That would be a waste. That creature is being saved for a particular challenger, but I can say no more.” He winked.

  In the pit of my stomach, I knew he spoke of Griffin.

  Sybil and Esmera waited outside the Great Hall at the top of the large stone steps. Both in brown dresses collared with chestnut-colored fur. The lapels were embroidered with flowers made of silver thread. Teardrop-shaped milky-white stones dangled from the center of Esmera’s flowers.

  Clouds hung low in the skies. The air was chilled and thick, hinting at rain.

  “Brisk today,” Esmera said as we approached.

  “It is,” I said, trying for politeness.

  “Is that my cloak?” Sybil scowled. “I was missing that.”

  I thought Griffin had borrowed it, not stolen it. Mortified, I started to unclip it, but she stopped me. “It’s fine. Don’t freeze today on my account. It looks good on you.”

  “That’s a beautiful necklace,” Esmera chimed. “Did you steal that too?”

  “No. A gift from my father to hers.” Jori’s lie was spoken sternly, closing the line of questioning. He extended an arm to Esmera, which she took as they started down the stairs.

  “I am not looking forward to another day of this.” Sybil groaned, attempting to take my arm, but that would have made my fall impossible. With her strength, she would’ve caught me, and I had no intentions of going to the tournament today. Xavier would have to wait. I let my heel catch on the first step, purposely tripping, and fell, rolling down the rest of the stairs, crashing into the courtyard.

  “Oh!”

  “Maggie!” Sybil and Jori yelled.

  “Ow!” My dress wet, I felt a fine layer of dirt on my backside as I shifted. I fell back down, grabbing my ankle.

  “Are you all right?” Jori asked.

  He and Sybil helped me stand.

  I limped, cringing, shaking my head. “My ankle feels turned. It needs tending. I think I should return to my room.”

  Jori looked put out. He sighed but nodded. “Yes. We cannot be late.” He waved a guard over. “Can you please escort Maggie to her room?” He looked at me. “Do you need the physician?”

  “Yes, sire. Would be good to have him check it.”

  “Then get the physician. Sander may be at the arena by now,” he told the guard.

  “Of course, sire.”

  They left, Sybil smirking over her shoulder at me, probably wondering why she hadn’t done the same thing.

  As the guard set me down outside my room, I made light of the physician.

  “On second thought, Petal is here. She can wrap my ankle. No need to rush the physician over. If it’s worse by afternoon, I’ll send her to get him.”

  I waited until he was gone to wind my way to the kitchens, hoping to find Bradyn. A place that never seemed to rest, it smelled heavenly, of baking bread, but was so hot I sweated beneath my cloak. The fires burned, gaunt men turning mutton spits. Others chopped fruits and vegetables on the butcher’s block, everyone dressed in the same gray smocks. None spoke to me or to each other. There was a strange melancholy over the palace, a curse of its own. Perhaps the happiness died with Jori’s mother, or perhaps it was never within the walls at all.

  I rounded the corner, padding toward the pantry, running into Bradyn’s mother, Molly, covered in flour, kne
ading dough.

  “Bradyn is at the arena. Did you need something?”

  “A horse. I’d like to go to the market in the Middle.”

  Her frown dipped contemplatively. “Buffont!”

  The heavyset cooker poked his head out of the back pantry. He wore a floor-length red wool vest in a failed attempt to hide his greasy linens. He was going out. “Stop your fussing. I’m leaving already!”

  Light flooded the room he was in. He was leaving by way of another door.

  Molly whacked the rolling pin on the block, calling him back. “Lady Maggie will ride with you in the wagon to the market is what I was going to say.” She shook her head.

  “Will she now?” He chuckled. “Anything Lady Maggie wishes is granted! Let’s go, lass!”

  A small wagon hitched to two sturdy horses sat waiting in the alley outside the kitchen door. The rear was filled with oversized baskets brimming with grains, potatoes, and apples. Part of the king’s loot from the soldier’s raids on the South. The king wasn’t a king at all. He was an artful fence, filling his coffers selling his pillaged bounty.

  Worried the guard in the courtyard would stop me, I asked Buffont if he minded very much if I rode inside one of the baskets.

  He understood without explanation, squeezing another in the middle. He covered the top with a burlap cloth. As the wagon jockeyed out the gates, I held my breath. The guards stopped another wagon on the way in, but paid Buffont no notice.

  Jostling through the Top, I saw a heart-stopping sea of red through the slits in the weave. Soldiers posted every few feet. Troops dragged a man, woman, and boy not much younger than me through the gates of their home, shoving them. Buffont stopped the wagon. After they crossed the road, I recognized Silas’s father, mother, and brother.

  “No one gets a pass. To the arena now,” the soldier barked.

  Several followed them in escort, while others proceeded to the next house. The past few times I’d walked through the streets of the Top, I never saw soldiers. Something had changed. If so many were here, I hoped the Middle and Bottom would be less encumbered.