The Color of Dragons

by R. A. Salvatore

  “Oof, you two are more of a mess than I am. Come.” As soon as Thoma got a fire going in the hearth in the middle of the room, Griffin unclasped Maggie’s dung-drenched cloak and threw it on the flames.

  He knew Thoma had no time for them. He had work to do. Stools were still stacked on tables. Kegs needed tapping. Thirsty crowds would descend soon, and he was likely due at Hugo’s shop shortly. Thoma draped his cloak on a hearthstone and started on the stools. Griffin helped him.

  “Where’s your father?” Griffin asked. It was unlike Thoma to return alone.

  “At the market,” Thoma explained. “How did you get here so fast from the arena and why are you dressed like that?”

  “It’s a long story.” Griffin removed the red cloak. “Did you have other clothing? This outfit might give you away,” he said to Maggie.

  “I lost my dress. I don’t suppose you have an old flame’s downstairs?” Maggie asked, cocking an eyebrow in expectation of an answer.

  Thoma laughed at him, giving away that the possibility existed. Griffin glared at him.

  “No. Griffin would never,” Thoma clarified. “I know of something that might do. Follow me.”

  He led them upstairs, to Thoma’s father’s room. Griffin had never been in here before. His father was a very private man. It looked like Thoma’s, bare mostly, with only necessities. A bed, wardrobe, and washing table. Thoma lifted the lid on a wooden trunk beneath the only window.

  “My mother’s clothes are in here.”

  The musty smell of wool stacked away too long filled the room.

  “Take what you need.”

  “Are you sure?” Maggie asked him.

  He smiled warmly. “Been seventeen years since this has been opened. Da won’t mind.”

  Griffin wasn’t sure that was true. Thoma’s mother had died when he was born. His father never remarried. Never talked about women. Never looked at a single one in the tavern. “You find one worth dying for, and she feels the same,” he told Griffin one night when he’d had too much to drink. “That kind of love is enough to carry you even when you’re not together, because no matter what, in this life or the next, you know you’ll find each other.”

  Griffin had never believed in love. He’d never believed in magic either.

  Maggie lifted the first one, a simple wool dress dyed dark blue. “This is perfect.”

  Griffin waited for her downstairs, helping Thoma finish the stools and carry up enough kegs to be grateful he didn’t have to do this anymore.

  As they set the last one behind the bar, Griffin remembered the tournament. “How did Oak do?” he asked Thoma.

  Thoma shifted filled mug trays from the drying rack to the bar. “You left the tournament and time with your precious king and prince to go to the Oughtnoch with her? I know she can, you know”—he leaned in even though the room was empty—“heal things. Dres told me. And Da, and most of the tavern that night.” He plunked another tray down. “She’s quite the celebrity round the Bottom for healing that boy . . . but she must be something really special for you to do all that, risk being caught, for her.”

  Griffin hammered the tap into a keg harder than necessary. “I went because she’s headstrong and foolish and was going to do something that would’ve likely ended with her dead.”

  Thoma laughed at him. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “What?” Maggie asked, coming down the stairs. Her hair loose, her curls hung almost to her waist. The simple dress fit her perfectly. She had never looked so beautiful. Her gaze shifted, catching him staring. Griffin dropped the hammer on his foot.

  He winced while Jori laughed, enjoying Griffin’s mortification.

  “Oh, well, Griffin bet me Oak would last ten minutes with the draignoch. He only made it sixty seconds. Slower than a turtle, that one. A good swat of the tail sent him flying halfway back to the lift. He ran the rest of the way, holding his ribs. It was the yellow one, big, fast. Almost had him. Oak curled into a ball and they hauled him out.” Thoma shook his head, holding his hand out.

  Griffin picked the hammer up and slapped it into his palm, drawing a satisfying seized breath from Thoma. “I’ll have to owe you.”

  Maggie tossed the tunic and trousers into the fire. “No evidence, although I doubt we’ll make it back before the prince has checked on my injured ankle. I suppose we should go.”

  Griffin smiled at the disappointment in her voice. He felt it too. Here, in this tavern, they were among friends, and prying eyes were off. Griffin could let his guard down, be more himself. Maggie had been right about that.

  “Thoma, can I borrow the horse? I’ll have Bradyn get it back before sunrise tomorrow.”

  Thoma didn’t look happy. “You better. If I have to carry the kegs on my back from the far cellars, you’ll be paying me twice what you lost in the bet.”

  The door opened. Several men from the tanner entered. At the sight of Griffin, they extended hands in greeting, offering congratulations.

  “What for?” Maggie asked.

  “I won the arrow competition today.”

  “Ah! He’s left the best part out. He split that ruddy Northman’s arrow. The big one,” one of them said.

  “Malcolm must be unhappy,” Maggie laughed.

  “The king was pleased; especially after yesterday, that’s really all that mattered,” Griffin explained. “I was in a hurry to leave. There was no time for humiliation on the dais.”

  Maggie smirked, her brow twitching. “I suppose then I should do headstrong and foolish things for the rest of the tournament.”

  A few minutes later, Maggie rode holding on to Griffin’s waist, making it difficult to think. He managed to break the workhorse into a canter for a good portion of the ride through the Middle. Neither spoke much. Griffin relived every moment of what he’d seen, stumbling headfirst into the realization that Rendicryss could fly.

  By the time they reached the stables, it was midafternoon. The place was empty at this time, horses out for exercise or work. Griffin pulled into a stall. He dismounted and helped Maggie down, then removed the saddle, setting it on the ground in the corner. Bradyn would have to ride him back down after the feast. His list of favors owed to him had grown tenfold in recent days because of Maggie.

  “We should return to the castle separately,” she said.

  “Can you find a good lie?”

  “No, but I can come up with one that will leave Jori guessing. My ankle needed tending. I slipped on wet stone. Dress tore. Someone loaned me a new one.”

  It wasn’t horrible. “Maggie, what I saw, where was that? And how did the dragon show me?”

  “I’m not entirely sure on either account. How can I do what I do? My mother said she gave me my gifts to bring me out of the forest. So returning there is not my destiny.” She crossed her arms. “But then she spoke of bringing hope or destruction. Tall orders and vast extremes. Not that I could accomplish either anyway. I don’t know how to control my abilities. You were right. I meant to break open the gate. I barely cracked the wall, twenty feet away.” Her steely gaze lifted to Griffin’s. “Rendicryss decided to trust you. I want you to know I trust you too, Griffin.” She took his hands in hers, threading her tiny fingers through his. His heart skipped several beats. “I don’t know anything about destinies, but what I do know is that I have to free Rendicryss before she’s hurt or worse in that horrible arena. And I can’t do that, not without help.”

  He swallowed the terror attempting to choke him and nodded. “And then you’ll try and leave with her.”

  It wasn’t a question because he knew the answer.

  She nodded all the same.

  He refused to say he wanted to go with her, because it was a ridiculous notion, wasn’t it? Would Maggie even want him? She hated him, didn’t she? Her fingers closed around his said otherwise. And Thoma saw through him with ease. Griffin liked Maggie. Could he maybe even love her? One thing was for sure, he knew he wanted to help her however he could.

  “
What you were doing to the Phantombronze affected it, but it wasn’t enough. The one thing I’ve learned after training to use all sorts of weapons is that all of them took time and practice.”

  “You’ll help me?”

  “If you’ll let me, I’d be honored to.” Griffin conjured a plan. “I’ll come to your room tonight, after dinner. Bolt the door and get rid of Petal. In the reverse order . . .” He laughed nervously.

  Maggie inched closer, neck craned, so close he could feel her warm breath tickling his chin.

  “Maggie,” he said, his voice straining. “I really . . .”

  She smiled. “Okay.”

  “Good . . .” And then he kissed her.

  Softly at first, a feather dusting, then harder.

  Hungrier.

  He could tell she wasn’t completely innocent to kisses. He wasn’t either. Those same girls in the Middle and Bottom who winced at the sight of his scarred face sought him out night after night in the tavern after he won his title. None stuck out as special.

  Not like this.

  He cradled her head, slowly pressing his hand against the small of her back until she was flush against him. Griffin didn’t want to stop, but time had long since run out.

  He pulled back, regretting it. “We have to get to the palace, Maggie.”

  “I know.” She kissed him again. “But I truly wish we didn’t.”

  A last embrace, and Griffin was forced to let her go. They parted, both breathless, both grinning like idiots.

  He let her leave first. He would wait several minutes, then enter through the kitchens.

  As Griffin walked out, he looked up—for the moon. He couldn’t believe what had transpired. Or how much he had changed in the short time since Maggie came through the gates of the city.

  Hope or destruction. Two extremes. With both healing and explosive powers, Maggie was capable of either. He was putting all his faith in her, with hope that he made the right decision. Because whether he intended to or not, he had made himself the only thing standing between the king and Jori—and the thing they wanted most of all.

  Magic.

  Fifteen

  Maggie

  Footsteps trailed behind me as soon as I left the stables. Shushing though the paddock of tall grasses. Skating on pebbles dumped on the muddy road. But no matter how many times I turned around, whoever it was hid. If they wanted to try to hurt me, capture, confront me, they had ample opportunity. I was in no mood for whatever game he or she or it was playing. My lie firmly in my pocket, I limped as fast as I could, hoping it was the correct ankle. Griffin’s kisses had left me wanting more.

  I felt guilty not thinking of Xavier since yesterday. I would ask after him the next time I saw Jori. With his newfound friendship, perhaps he would find a way for me to speak to Xavier. Like the rest, his time was running out.

  At the palace gates, the guards stopped me on the way in.

  “What’s your business?”

  They didn’t recognize me.

  “Lady Maggie lives here, fool.” Jori walked swiftly up the road, taking my arm. His hair was matted, his red tunic turned maroon, streaked with raindrops. My heart riveted with worry his footsteps were the ones I’d heard since the barn.

  “Get out of her way. Can you not see she’s injured?” He touched my leg.

  I tried not to stiffen.

  The guard slid out of the way, letting us pass. He led us straight through the courtyard busy with post-tournament guests without stopping to speak to any of the nobles calling his name. The prince’s grip tightened with each anxious limping step I took. The doors to the Great Hall were open; servants hustled with plates, glasses, linens, and candles, preparing for the nightly feast.

  “How was the tournament?” I asked, trying for small talk.

  Jori shook his head, dismissively. “How is your ankle?” he asked, sounding as if he already knew the answer.

  We started up the stairs.

  “A little better. I sought the physician but couldn’t find him. I should’ve let the guard fetch him for me. I fell. A nice woman loaned me this dress. Mine was soaked.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted, a tiny hiss escaping with an even smaller laugh. He didn’t believe me.

  When we reached the top, his fingers dug into my arm.

  “I can find my room by myself, Jori.”

  “Best if I escort you. Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall for a third time today.”

  We took the hallway to my room in uncomfortable silence. Petal opened the door. I was glad she was here. I could tell by her set jaw she didn’t like seeing Jori enter my room again. She wanted him to leave, and so did I.

  I limped into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed, regretting the decision. The prince sat down beside me.

  Petal started to help me take off my boots, but the prince shooed her away. He lifted my left leg to his lap. I used the post to pull up, sliding away from him, and smoothed my skirts down.

  “Sire, if it’s all the same to you, and Petal, I can remove my own boots.”

  He stood up, his lips pressing into a thin bitter line. “I thought we were on better ground.”

  “We are.”

  He stepped closer. “Then why won’t you let me touch you?” He lifted my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

  I took my hand back. “Because I don’t feel that way about you.”

  “But you do about Griffin? I saw you in the barn, with him,” he said with malice. “When he left the arena in a hurry, I worried there was trouble. Eventually I was able to extricate myself from the festivities, and what did I see while rushing back to the castle? You on the back of a horse he was riding. And then . . . you in his arms.” His whole body tensed. “You slip and send word for help from Griffin? You let him take care of you, but not me? You want him, is that it? You want to marry Griffin?”

  “Marry?” I laughed. “I don’t want to marry anyone.”

  “Then why would you be kissing him?”

  Jori’s question took me by surprise. Wasn’t it apparent? “Because I wanted to.”

  His expression turned grim, and suddenly I feared for Griffin’s place beside him. “It was nothing. Jori. Only a kiss.” A lie, but a necessary one for the prince and myself. Griffin’s kisses meant more than nothing, but I wasn’t staying.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I want to leave the Walled City. I don’t belong here, sire.”

  “And respectfully, I disagree,” he said in a hushed tone. He placed his hands behind his back, a gesture I took as acquiescence, at last. “Xavier asked after you today.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “He is performing and has asked for you to assist him. Can you manage that with your ankle?”

  “Yes. I can’t let him down.”

  He padded to the door, opening it. I moved with him to bid him goodbye and lock the door after his departure.

  “May I?” He extended his palm. He wanted to kiss my hand farewell. It wasn’t an abnormal move for the prince. He’d done it with others, and I could hardly refuse after I dismissed his affections so blatantly. I wasn’t completely heartless. I set my hand in his.

  He moved to kiss it, but frowned instead. “Where is my mother’s ring?”

  “Oh, it’s here somewhere. I took it off before I left. Easy to hide the necklace. But I didn’t want to lose the ring to muggers.”

  He pushed the door wider, glaring at Petal. “Have you seen it?”

  Her eyes flew wide. She trembled, shaking her head, creeping behind the screen.

  “She’s a thief,” Jori accused.

  “Jori, stop this! How could you accuse her when you have no proof at all?”

  “She’s convicted. Why do you think she’s serving you? Lied when caught red-handed stealing food from the kitchen pantry.”

  “Which was stolen from the Hinterlands!”

  “You can defend her all you like, Maggie, but it changes—”

  “It was me.”
I took a menacing step forward. “I sold the ring.”

  He blinked. “For what? What did you purchase?”

  I had nothing to show, except . . . “I lied. I bought this dress. It wasn’t given to me.”

  “That ugly smock for a sapphire ring?” Jori laughed. “I don’t believe you. You’re covering for her.”

  “Believe what you want, but it’s the truth. Petal didn’t take anything.”

  “Yes, and when it appears on your night table, I expect a full apology.” His glare returned to Petal once more. “And she will be severely punished.” He shrank from the door and bowed his head formally. Then was gone.

  I slammed the door shut, bolting it, then pressed my back against it—just in case.

  Petal cried. She had good reason. The prince had made his intentions clear. Even if I were to get the ring back, he wouldn’t be satisfied with the truth. Fear rippled through me, chilling my bones. He planned to punish me by punishing Petal.

  I hugged her to me. “Petal, you need to leave the castle, and never, ever return. Can you go? Now? Unseen?”

  She cried, shrugging, biting her lip, turning this way and that.

  All at once I understood. I saw it in her eyes. “You have nowhere to go.”

  She nodded.

  “Yes. You do.” I laid one of the red bath linens on the table and used a stray piece of burnt wood from the fireplace to draw my mark on it. I tucked it inside the sleeve of her smock. On another, I drew a picture of a wilted rose. My artistry was pathetic but with a little scrutiny, Bradyn would puzzle it out. “Go now. Hide until the prince and all are in the feast. I don’t want to risk him coming back looking for you in here. Then make your way to the stables. There is a large fat mare in the fourth stall, a weathered saddle in the corner on the ground. Bradyn should be there after his duties are done.” I handed her the picture of the sad flower. “Give him this. He’ll understand you need a lift to the same place he’s going. When you get to the Wilted Rose tavern, find Dres. Dark hair. Bushy eyebrows. An ugly scowl all the time. Give him the other parchment. He’ll understand I sent you. You can trust him, and Thoma. His father owns the place.”