by N M Zoltack
“Why? Because they haven’t returned? Yet, you mean. They could at any time!”
“I don’t want to have to worry—”
“I know how to take care of myself,” Vivian said dryly.
“Yes, I know, but…”
“And I don’t need a guard to accompany either.” Vivian shook her head. “Do you even know where the Vincanans are? Have you considered forming an alliance with them?”
“An alliance, a temporary one… against the dragons?”
Vivian shrugged. “Maybe it could start out as temporary and then become more permanent.”
Rosalynne barked a bitter laugh. “You do not understand the way of things. You’re too idealistic—”
“So you say, but there is nothing wrong with hoping for peace, having faith that better days lie ahead.”
“There is a dark, heavy cloud lingering over all of Dragoona,” Rosalynne said. “I would blow that cloud away if only I knew how.” She dropped her gaze to the scrolls.
Vivian stood. “There are no answers to be found there.”
The queen opened her mouth, tilted her head to the side, but said nothing.
“You do not need me here except as your sister. You wish to keep me chained here, but I’m not a princess. I’m not meant to dance at non-existent balls.”
“And I am to run to Marcellus and ask him what precisely? ‘Do not attack us again. Let us join forces against the dragons.’ I do agree that forces must be marshaled against the dragons, yes, but if we can handle the might of the dragons, surely we can handle the Vincanan forces as well.”
“So you do not mean to locate peace anywhere and everywhere?” Vivian asked softly.
“For there to be lasting peace—”
“There must be Tenoch Proper.” Vivian could hardly recognize her own voice, so harsh did it sound.
“The dragons must—”
“Be killed? By Tenoch’s might alone. However, what if that very escapade should leave us vulnerable to attack from Vincana?”
“You do not need to worry—”
“I am your heir,” Vivian said. “Until you marry and have a child, I am your heir. If anything should happen to you… You must be smart, Rosalynne. You must not die.”
“There was a time when I would’ve thought you wouldn’t have minded—”
“Had I wanted to be queen when I was young and foolish? Yes, but not now.”
“Not now that you are nearly sixteen.”
“Age does not equate experience,” Vivian murmured.
“And you think you are so worldly because you have lived on berries and nuts.”
“And trained with the enemy.” Vivian shook her head. “Sister, you would not have survived what I lived through, and I’m grateful you didn’t have to experience what I had, that you didn’t have to see the signs of our people suffering because they are so utterly far away. We’ve failed so many, and we are failing far many right now because we don’t even know where the dragons are or what they want.”
“What the dragons want doesn’t matter,” Rosalynne said. “If we kill them…”
The queen allowed that heavy half-sentence to hang on the air.
“Honestly, I don’t know if we could or should kill the dragons again,” Vivian murmured.
Rosalynne merely gaped at her.
29
Prince Marcellus Gallus
The dragon swept toward Marcellus, the claws extended. Marcellus brought up his sword and prepared for the blow. The claws and sword collided, and Marcellus was flung backward onto his rump. Only his training allowed him to keep the sword in his grasp.
Immediately, he climbed back to his feet. The rest of the camp was awake and alert now, but it did not escape his notice that the Valkyries held back, all of them, even Horatia.
The dragon let out a terrible roar, flexing his claws and then blasting their fire, making its flames reach the height of a castle's tower.
“Water,” Flavius cried.
But they were not camped near a river or lake or stream, and the water in their canteens would not provide nearly enough water.
Even so, the commander ordered several of the warriors to head to the nearest river with buckets. They would have to pass along the buckets from one person to another, racing between the gaps, but even that would take far too long for them to transport any measurable amount of water, far too slowly and without enough quantity for it to be sensible and practical and worth the effort.
The only good it might do would be to ensure those warriors were too far away from the dragon to be sliced, flamed, or eaten.
The dragon ignored the Valkyries, Marcellus noticed, but he came after the other warriors, and he also paid attention to Marcellus, bearing down on him time and again. Although the dragon blazed his fires, he did not snatch up any of their numbers, and he did not eat any. Wound, yes, but kill no.
By the time the first bucket of water had reached their camp, the dragon let out another bellow before flying off, quickly lifting out of sight above the clouds.
Marcellus did not sleep at all that night, his gaze ever skyward, waiting for the dragon to return. It wasn't until the morning came, with that treacherous sunlight, that the worst part of the attack was revealed.
Somehow, without Marcellus realizing, maybe when the commander had set up the water line, the dragon had attacked those burned, killing each and every one of them.
A slight mercy, perhaps, as most of them had been badly burned and they hadn’t the means to help them, but not all burns were fatal.
May there never come a day when I feel as incompetent as I do now.
Days melted into nights passing into days, the cycle repeating again and again in an endless loop of torture and agony. Marcellus hadn’t been injured physically during the assault by the dragon, but he had been mentally. In the weeks that had passed since the attack, Marcellus hadn’t slept, and he felt as if he were half-dead.
Worse, there was no word from his father. Had the Vincanans received his message? Had one been sent back in reply? Had his messenger or his father’s been killed along the way? Had a dragon killed one messenger? Had the dragons flown south? Where were all three of them?
So many questions plagued Marcellus. His soul longed for peace, as did his heart, but his brain told him in no uncertain terms that peace would not be had again, perhaps in his lifetime.
30
Former Councilmember Now Prisoner Greta Grantham
The prescribed date of Greta’s execution came and went without any fanfare and without the execution itself.
Not that Greta was surprised.
Still, before that week was up, she asked Pate Callow if he would speak with her a moment.
“What is it that you require of me?” Pate asked softly.
Greta smiled wanly. The guard would do anything at all that she wished. She hadn't even tried very hard, but the fool, the crooked-nose knave, had fallen in love with her. He was utterly devoted to her, and honestly, Greta wished that hadn't happened. With his level of loyalty and adoration, she feared he wouldn't be able to move on and find himself a woman who could look past his appearance to see that he truly was a good man even if he was merely a prison guard. No males could have high aspirations and settle for a position as a prison guard, even if only temporarily.
“A favor,” Greta murmured. “That is all I ask.”
“Whatever you desire.”
She smiled then, her first full, genuine smile in who knew how long. Greta might be imprisoned, but she still had some fight left in her yet.
31
Rase Ainsley
The house was becoming a prison of sorts. Rase hadn't left the house yet for several reasons, first and foremost because he was too afraid that the moment he did, his sister would flee again.
“I should charge you money,” he grumbled.
"For what?" she asked. She sat in the parlor, holding a shirt that didn't need to be mended, yet she was sewing it anyhow. "Rent to live
here in your house?"
“No.” He chuckled. “Do you remember the Allards?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head to the side. “Roul and Aalis fought all the time. I used to hate watching them, but their parents paid me… Do you mean to say you are watching over me as one does a small child!”
Rase laughed and laughed and laughed some more.
Leanne plucked a small pillow that she had placed onto the floor, removing it from her high-backed chair, and she whipped it at him. Rase caught it, but he hadn’t expected some of her balled-up thread, and that struck him right in the nose.
“I am not a child,” she said stubbornly.
“I know you aren’t. So would the villagers if you would come with me when I have to buy our food. Or a dress. We could have you properly sized—”
“By villagers, you mean the men.”
“I mean by anyone. Maybe there’s another family who wishes to have a woman stay on and watch over their children. You could be a governess, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I am hardly—”
“Don’t,” he said sharply.
“Don’t what?” she asked, her tone innocent, and it struck him hard that she was almost eighteen, four years older than he was, but she was the naïve one. She seemed so much younger yet. He had shielded her as best as he could from the heaviness of their plight, but unless he got her completely out of the shadows and into the light, she would remain a burden to poverty.
“Do not put yourself down. If you wish to be a governess, you can be one. If you wish to marry a titled man, you could. If you wish to be a baron’s wife…”
Her face clouded over at that, and he winced.
“My point is that you can do or be anything you wish.”
“I can’t be queen.”
“Well, no. Queen of this very house would have to suffice. Does that work for you?”
“I suppose for now.” She giggled. “I can’t see myself as a governess.”
“No?” He tried to look over at her handiwork, but she held it to her chest. “What do you want to be?”
“I… I want to see the dragons. All three.”
“All three?”
“Yes.” Her eyes shone.
She had not mentioned the dragons for some time now, but her gaze turned wistful and far away, as if she could see the dragon again.
"Next, you'll be telling me you wish to ride one." He snorted.
“What if I do?” she whispered as if revealing a deep, dark, terrible secret.
“Do what?”
“I had a dream that I flew on a dragon,” she murmured. “It was the most incredible dream I’ve ever had. I… I’ve been sleeping more lately, can’t you tell?”
“Aye, sleeping and eating more. You’re doing better, aren’t you? Feeling better?”
“I’ve been trying to have that dream again,” she confessed.
“You do realize most people are plum terrified of the dragons.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“Maybe because the dragons have been burning places to the ground. You can’t tell me that’s all a big mistake.”
“We all have our vices, our sins, our failures,” she murmurs.
He snorted again and shook his head. "Dragons are to judge us, eh? I don't think I like the idea of that. They don't know what it's like for us down here in the gutter, trying to claw our way up to survive. We fight and jostle and reach for the stars, but we'll never get there."
“Just like I’ll never be a governess.”
“Not with that attitude.”
Leanne just shook her head. “No, that’s not me.”
“Then what is you?” Rase asked eagerly. “Let me help you.”
“I… I don’t know who I am or what I want, Rase.”
“No? Well, don’t you worry. You have all the time in the world to realize just what you want.”
“That so?” Leanne bit her lower lip. “Because if you—”
“You’ll be kept safe and able to pick whatever life you want. I mean, I don’t think you’d want this, but if you want to be a maid at the castle, I’ll find a way to make that happen. If you want to marry, I’ll find you a groom… or make sure the man you pick out is a good ‘un. Not some bloke who will pretend to be good and kind and decent and then smack you around when no one else is nearby. You deserve to be loved all the days of your life, Leanne.”
“Rase?”
“Yes?”
“You love me, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts,” she said firmly. “It’s you and me now. You and me.”
She stared off to the side, into the distance again, and Rase shuddered. Why did it seem as if it weren't the two of them but the three—him, her, and a dragon? Why was she so obsessed with them? As much as he longed to ask her what had happened that night she saw one, he couldn't bring himself to, but he did smile and laugh and tease his sister the rest of the night, and for the first time in ages, he allowed himself to sleep, and when he stirred in the morning, he actually somehow managed to wake with a smile.
32
Princess Vivian Rivera
Attire, food, weapons, maybe a blanket… A pillow would prove too bulky, but she supposed it could be fastened to the saddle of her mount. Should she bring Swiftfire with her? Would that be selfish of her to do so? After all, a destrier was a warhorse, and she would not be riding off for war. Surely her horse would be in capable hands with another.
Should she bring one horse or two? If she wished to ride hard, having a mount to switch to would be preferable. The quicker she left, the quicker she could make hast back home, but it made far more sense to bring some coins to exchange her horses for fresh ones at the various posts.
If the posts hadn’t been attacked by the dragons.
If the people fleeing for their lives hadn’t bought or stolen all of the horses.
If, if, if.
No, she would bring just one horse, not Swiftfire.
A sudden knock at the door had Vivian panicking. She yanked the bags off the bed and shoved them beneath it before sitting on the wrinkled, unmade bed and calling, “Come in.”
To her relief, Queen Rosalynne did not enter.
Instead, it was the other queen.
“You are not the most easiest to locate,” Sabine murmured. “Shall I?”
Vivian nodded for her to shut the door. “I did not realize you were looking for me.”
“I thought I might seek you out and get to know you a bit better.”
“Ah, yes. Why not?” Vivian said, veiling her contempt. “You only married my father for the crown you wear, and you help to divide the country even greater than the Vincanans seek to.”
“I heard you spent a great deal of time with the Vincanans. Did it feel strange to fight against them?”
“If you have come here to place blame upon my feet—”
“No, no.” Sabine closed her eyes and tilted her head back. With her positioned thusly, Sabine appeared worn, tired, pale. She had aged a great deal since the crown had first been placed upon her golden locks.
Pity was the last emotion Vivian wished to feel for the older woman, and she rejected it, perhaps out of spite, but she was not a perfect creature, nor did Vivian strive to be.
"I received word this morning that a dragon has burned parts of Etian," Sabine murmured. "I do not know if my former house still stands. We sold it before we came here, my mother and I."
“She married a baron, didn’t she?”
“Yes.” Sabine nearly smiled. “I did not realize you knew that.”
“I wish to know everything I can about friends and foes alike,” Vivian said.
The queen nodded. “I suppose that is very wise.”
“How curious it must be for you to think one younger than you is wise.”
Sabine chuckled. “A true master of wits you are. I honestly understand why you hate me, but I have no ill will toward your family. I truly don’t. I…” She til
ted her head to the side. “Did your sister tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Narrowing her eyes, Vivian crossed her arms. A sense of suspicion came over her that the queen was trying to divide the sisters and pit them against each other.
“About Noll.”
Vivian slowly shook her head.
Sabine hung her head. “Maybe you should ask her—”
“You brought it up. You can tell me. Has his murderer been uncovered?”
“Yes,” Sabine said hollowly. “I… I ordered the execution, but I… It will happen. It must happen. I just… I don't know how to handle…" The queen did not lift her head, but she eyed Vivian just the same. "I do not wish to appear weak to anyone, but I must confess I do not know how to best serve the people of Atlan, let alone all those in Tenoch. The islands… I've barely a thought about them, and how fair is that? If a dragon should fly all the way to them… They would be woefully unprepared and so utterly surprised. I have no inkling if any of our messengers have made their destinations, if any of the faraway cities know about the dragons, if the dragons have already paid them a visit…”
Vivian closed her eyes, thinking about the town she had been in, visualizing that blond girl with the braids.
After a few deep breaths, Vivian opened her eyes. “Who was it?” she asked, her words oddly calm and detached. “Who killed my brother?”
“My mother did.”
Vivian inhaled through her nose, trying to control her anger instead of allowing her anger to overwhelm her. “Your mother. And you come here, professing to wish to talk to me, to get to know me, and I am to accept that you have no ulterior motive in that?”
“I don’t know why your sister didn’t tell you,” Sabine started.
“And you seek to hurt and undermine my relationship with my sister by telling me this. I did not know about Noll’s murderer. You have kept this knowledge under lock and key. Is your mother even in prison?”