To Celesia’s unpleasant surprise, Mavarco, the royal architect, had entered the courtyard. He was dressed in his usual violet robe, and his gaunt face seemed amused.
Celesia didn’t know what her father saw in the tall man, although she thought his strange inventions were brilliant, most notably the chamber he had built on top of the keep that collected and provided clean water to the castle. The thin hollow sticks that people drank their beverages from was her favorite.
Thankfully, Mavarco’s presence also meant that his apprentice was close by. Sure enough, he joined them, his yellow hair trimmed just below his ears. His name was Tuke, as she once heard the scullery maids say. It was a peculiar name, but likable. His height often made him stand out from the crowd, and his eyes had an intelligent look to them. Celesia wanted to know what color his eyes were, but she had always avoided them, every time he glanced her way—as he was now.
The stallion let out a shrill as Dálcort mounted the saddle. Once released, the creature kicked and bucked throughout the corral. The prince held fast. He seemed to enjoy every second of it. The stallion rolled to its side, taking Dálcort with it. The people gasped, and then cheered when the prince remained on the saddle, unmoved and collected. The stallion’s spirit was fading.
Thrashing and stomping, the stallion roared as the prince gave a sporting laugh. A few minutes of grueling struggle later, the stallion stopped. It was out of breath, casting its eyes to the ground. Sweat covered its white coat. Dálcort was just as sullied, but he sat triumphant and held his head high. Celesia couldn’t believe how quickly the prince had broken the poor creature.
“Astounding!” Lýnivad applauded. “That was the most incredible feat I have seen in ages!”
“I never seen anything like it,” Mayhew added.
Grinning, Dálcort pulled the reins and guided the stallion to the fence. “I have not done this to impress Your Majesty, but to show you that I intend to win the heart of your daughter, no matter the tribulation.”
Celesia tightened her folded arms.
I’d like to see you try ...
“Now, if you do not mind,” Dálcort continued, “may I have a brief word with her, in private?”
The king glanced at her. “For a moment.”
The people took that as their invitation to leave. The maidens left with their neglected handkerchiefs, while Mayhew and Lyell returned to the stables. The king gave Celesia another cautious look before he walked away himself. Mavarco strode by his side, telling him about a new invention, while Tuke stole a peek at her before he followed after them. Celesia and Dálcort were left alone. Only the fence separated them.
“You amaze me, Princess Celesia—not in the usual sense,” he said. “Maidens tend to fall over themselves just to have a look at me, but not you.” Dálcort flicked a piece of hay off his shoulder. “I am accustomed to having what I want. You will see—winning your heart will be no different than breaking this stallion.” Dálcort kicked the horse’s side, sending them to the stables.
Celesia didn’t show it, but she was terrified. Now she knew what the stallion was feeling. Like the creature, Dálcort saw her as something to be conquered. She had to run away, but that was impossible. The guards closed the gate and raised the drawbridge. Her plight absolute.
“I’d rather have a curse than see him again ...”
The churning clouds distracted Celesia. They moved toward the valley, blocking the warm sun and covering the kingdom in shadow. Distant thunder rolled through the sky. It would rain soon. She was about to go back inside when something in the clouds caught her eye. A black streak darted over the silver lining—and vanished.
Maybe it was her imagination, but to her, it looked like a long, dark tail.
Chapter 3
Ditching the Hunt
That night, the elegant music in the banquet hall and the constant parade of silver platters couldn’t distract Celesia from the strange sight she had seen in the late morning sky. Engrossed in her own thoughts, she was oblivious to Dálcort when he pulled his chair close. The guests seemed to enjoy themselves, talking and laughing merrily. Celesia found the prodding of her roasted pheasant more amusing. With the moon almost full in the center of the sky, Celesia excused herself. Before she could escape, Dálcort caught her by the wrist. He raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed it.
“I am sure you will enjoy our adventure tomorrow.”
Celesia knitted her brow. “What adventure?”
“Your father tells me there is good hunting here, close to the mountains behind the castle.” There was an intense hunger in his green eyes, nearly wolf-like. “He has agreed to let you ride with me.”
Feeling betrayed, Celesia pulled her wrist back. “He agrees to too many things.”
Smiling, Dálcort rejoined the party. “Sleep well.”
They went their separate ways—Celesia a little faster than him—the music fading with every step she took. Armed sentries lined the halls and archways. This news made her happy and frustrated all at once. Had her father really given Prince Dálcort permission to take her outside the castle walls? She wanted to jump with joy upon hearing this, but the thought of spending more time with Dálcort had firmly grounded her elation. To be with him was like having a chain around her neck.
Around the corner, a servant couple was cleaning the floors. They were laughing, teasing and splashing water at each other. But when they saw Celesia, they resumed their work. Celesia couldn’t help but sigh as she walked away. The common people had it easier when it came to matters of the heart. Easier choices. One could seek the hand of another without politics, and the choice of hand was plentiful. They seemed happier for it.
She stopped and turned back to them. The least she could do was acknowledge their hard work. “You’re doing a wonderful job. Thank you so very much.”
The couple smiled back before they resumed their labors. When Celesia reached the main hall, she stopped to look again at her mother’s portrait. Torchlight cast an orange flicker on the still frame, causing the illusion of movement on the woman’s face. Around her neck was a silver chain. Over her heart was a blue stone. Celesia had no curios that belonged to her mother. She’d always wondered what happened to that beautiful necklace.
Cautious footsteps entered the main hall. “Celesia?”
Her father was by the stairs, his hands behind his back.
“I saw you leave early. Are you turning in already?”
Celesia resumed her study of the portrait. “Soon.”
Lýnivad came to her side. They admired the portrait together. “I thought this day was exciting. This Dálcort may be a good match, I think. What do you think?”
“He’s not like the others, that’s for sure.”
“The day has passed without incident. No blackouts or other such nonsense. I take it as a good sign.”
“That’s because I don’t like him—that’s why there was no incident.”
The king groaned. “Then why have you harmed the others? You mean to tell me this Dálcort is free from injury because you dislike him?” He thwarted a heavy sigh. “This contradiction is frustrating.”
“Imagine how I must feel,” she pressed. “I’ve told you about this curse of mine so many times. You won’t believe me. No one will believe me.”
“Not this curse malarkey again.” A mild temper rose in his voice. “You’re not a child anymore, but you insist on pretending magic and making yourself part of some fairytale. I hope you change your mind, for I fear what will happen when my time comes to join your mother.”
Celesia hated it when he talked like that. “Then if I must marry, let me find my own husband.”
Lýnivad laughed. “Wander out there, on your own? No one beyond our walls will interest you.”
“That’s not a fair assumption.” Celesia gestured at the portrait. “You found her interesting.”
The king rubbed his face. “She was different—”
“Then tell me, if a royal bloodli
ne is so important, why didn’t you marry a princess? You went and found the love of your choice. Why can’t I do the same?”
With a sad expression, the king looked beseechingly at the portrait of his late wife.
Celesia did, too. “Is it because you blame me?”
The king’s fingers gently touched the hand of his portrayed wife. “No, Celesia. I would never blame you for that.” He turned to face her. Even in the dark, she saw a single tear stream down his cheek. “Your mother gave her life for you—in more ways than I know.”
In more ways? “What do you mean?”
“She said you will have her influence.”
Celesia had no idea what he meant by this.
“There you are,” said Mavarco, stepping from the shadows. The man wore a dark cloak with a collar that reached the height of his ears. The thought of his figure lurking so close without a sound sent a shiver down Celesia’s neck. “May I have a word with Your Majesty?”
The king wiped his eyes dry. “We will talk of this later, Celesia. Please excuse us.”
She didn’t need him to ask twice. Celesia went up the stairs, but her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to know what the royal architect had to say, and she had to know why Mavarco was more important than the deep conversation that she was having with her father. Celesia sat in the shadows by the handrail and listened.
“Mavarco,” the king acknowledged. “What is it?”
“I have a progress report on the apparatus we had discussed.” Mavarco’s tone was cool and fluid, like a minute stream. “It should be ready for testing soon. I hope you find this news satisfactory?”
Lýnivad nodded. “It is. I look forward to your next contraption. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Indeed, I will.” Mavarco moved aside to let the king pass, but then he stood still. Celesia kept watching, wondering what he was waiting for. It wasn’t until the king was gone that he finally spoke. “It is not wise to eavesdrop on the conversations of others, Princess.”
The shift of Mavarco’s robe meant he was finally walking away. Celesia took a jittery step back and caught her breath. Mavarco’s keen observance made her soul shake. She wanted to be in her room with the door bolted, more than ever. The secret wall walk at the top of the stairs was the fastest way to her bedchamber.
Deciding to use it, she pushed into the portrait of an old cardinal. She then stepped into the secret passage and closed herself inside. As she pressed through the dark, the idea of Mavarco’s presence unnerved her. He was always so alert, as if he had eyes all over his head.
Feeling her way up a narrow flight of stairs, Celesia pressed against the stones that ended the passage. They swung open, and on the other side was the library. A chandelier shined bright enough light for her to see by. A tapestry, showing the whole of LaVóndia, hung on the other side, displaying their corner of Bëdoustram, the seaport of Glydatha, the desert realm of Trisontia, and the woodlands of Erdwyn. At the heart of it all was an abandoned palace, where few dared to visit.
Some said it was haunted, while others claimed it bewitched. Celesia had always wanted to find this out for herself. All was quiet. It was just Celesia and many rows of books, and a glass case with a few rare weapons and heirlooms inside. She stepped into the library, about to close the passage when a shadow ran into her.
Several items flew from the stranger’s arm as they fell together. Celesia accidentally knocked over a table of antique vases. Most of the artifacts landed on a thick rug, but two others struck the stone floor and shattered. A pile of sand and broken glass remained.
A young man was hovering over her, his body nearly pressed against hers. “I’m so sorry, miss!” he gasped as he scurried off. “I didn’t see you there!”
She knew who he was right away. It was Tuke, and now she knew the color of his deep blue eyes.
Celesia couldn’t believe it. “No ... I’m fine!”
“Please.” Tuke offered his hand. “Allow me?”
She accepted, and he pulled her up with the strength she’d heard about. Her heart was pounding, and her skin warmed to the rhythm. Diverting her attention to the floor, she saw the broken vases. The castle historian wouldn’t appreciate whatever they had just pulverized.
“Seriously, where did you come from?” Tuke asked.
“A secret passage.” Celesia pointed. “Over there.”
He looked at the opened wall. “Good to know.”
Celesia smiled. She still couldn’t believe it. She’d only imagined what it would be like to speak with Tuke, but never because of an accident. Now that she had heard his voice, Celesia knew he was perfect. He started to pick up the items scattered around them, a few scrolls and a device that looked like a broken music box.
“Why are you here at this hour?” she asked. “And what’s in that box?”
“Errands, and it’s some kind of furnace component.” Tuke stashed the box under his arm before Celesia could see its finer details. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked again. “You’re not hurt or anything?”
Celesia examined herself. “Not at all. You?”
“I’m fine,” he answered calmly. “Just fine.” Tuke was standing close to her, as if he had dared himself to.
Celesia didn’t mind. “Be careful next time.”
He smiled. “I will, next time, Princess.”
Tuke turned and hurriedly ran down the corridor.
Celesia closed the wall and leaned against the stones, absorbing its cool surface. Tuke was more than she had imagined. Strong, quiet qualities possessed him in a way she hadn’t seen in any young man. The sincerity of his voice, the way his smile enlivened her own. And to feel his body suspended over her caused her heart to throb even more. In a matter of seconds, something had sparked between them, stronger than infatuation.
Celesia liked him. She really liked him.
Admitting this tormented her soul.
If only he were a prince ...
A blue sheen caught her eye from the pile of sand at her feet. Celesia brushed the layer away, being careful not to cut herself. Under the glass and sand was a dark blue gemstone, unlike any her eyes had ever seen. Except she had. Many times. Celesia pulled it from the sand, and a silver chain sifted through the grains. In an instant, an overwhelming joy had overcome Celesia.
“There you are!” she said, holding the jewel to her chest. “I found you! After all this time, I’ve found you.”
Her mother’s necklace was lost no more.
˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙
Celesia wasn’t sure what to wear the next morning, so she selected her new riding dress. It had a beautiful design set within forest green satin, and a gold trim with embroidered autumn laurel leaves. She then placed her mother’s gem around her neck, and laced her hair with a gold headband. She made her way to the door when the ghastly new bear rug stared at her, its jaws wide open.
The prince had Lyell deliver it during the party, as a show of his skill and a promise of more to come.
I’m not keeping that poor thing in my room ...
Celesia held onto the stone all night, staring into its endless blue center, and wondering what it was doing in a vase full of sand all this time. Who put it there? She had no way to know, and no one paid much notice to the stone, not even Mayhew, when he delivered her horse. Mayhew urged her to mount the brown mare.
She complied with some difficulty, having almost forgotten how to climb on. She had hoped to ride the captured stallion instead, to show it some kindness, but Dálcort had claimed it, to be sure the creature would obey his every word first. Twenty other horsemen accompanied them, each holding leashes to anxiously eager hounds. Once assembled, Dálcort ordered the guards to raise the gate and lower the bridge.
The village beyond the wall gave way to a grassy meadow, while the castle loomed over the base of a mountainous peak. The foundation had a different stone than the rest of the castle, but the material was just as strong as the quoins that supported each tall tower. A sto
ut waterfall supplied a river to their right, churning beneath the drawbridge as the party crossed over it.After the hunters told the prince where they would find the best game, he led the party up a trail as if he knew where to go. So rude and arrogant of him.
Trying her best to ignore his faults, Celesia looked about herself. Autumn had arrived in the mountains. The trees began the yearly changing of their leaves with vibrant shades of yellow and red. In a few weeks, they would be brown and brittle. This was Celesia’s favorite time of year, and Dálcort had to mar the cloudless vista.
She took a deep, patient breath.
Try to like him. Try to like him ...
After traveling up the steep ridge, a level thicket lay before them. Dense bushes grew on either side of the trail. The keep, the highest tower of the castle, was now below their line of sight.
“This is far more exciting than sitting in a castle, with servants who await your every whim,” Dálcort said. “How about that smile you insist on keeping from me?”
Celesia tightened her grip on her horse’s rein. This day couldn’t get any worse. “The fresh air is enlivening, I agree. As for that smile ...” She turned to him with a bittersweet simper. “You will just have to earn it.”
Dálcort laughed. “I like a challenge. There is nothing more satisfying than a challenge won!”
Which is exactly what he thinks of me ... “Nothing would satisfy me more than to ditch this hunt.”
Before Celesia could take pleasure in the prince’s reaction, Dálcort’s stallion was looking at her—with a smile on its face. Celesia hesitated, and then she paused when it winked at her. No. She had to be seeing things.
Since when do horses wink? Or smile?
“In that wood,” Lyell said, pointing ahead for the prince, “we’ll find deer and boars.”
Dálcort chuckled. “As if I have not mingled with enough bores today.”
The stablehand glowered at him. So did Celesia. She wanted to tell the prince exactly what she thought of him, but the white stallion turned with a warning glare. She couldn’t understand what the creature was doing.
The Dragon's Heart Page 2