Dragon's Maid

by Kimberly A Rogers

  “I can unless the inquisitor in question has already arrested the person being interrogated,” he retorted. The guards made no move to stop him, and he knew Huon had brought more men to flank him. Good.

  He threw open the door to find the female inquisitor circling Damaris like a hungry drake. Neither woman was speaking at the moment, though there was a touch of strain in Damaris’ eyes when she saw him. No doubt she was questioning his intelligence in interrupting.

  Forcing himself to focus on the inquisitor, he met the woman’s gaze as he stated firmly, “The time of interviewing my people is over.”

  The woman stopped short, a frown flickering across her lips, before she replied, “This is most unusual, my lord. Some might call it disrespectful.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I am certain I need not remind you, the inquisitors of the king, that both King Stephen and Sir George know where my loyalties lie as the Earl of Silvermere. Have you any reason to continue questioning my maid?”

  “Yes,” the man snapped.

  “No,” his companion countered with a telling look toward him. “At least, nothing of note from this interview. She is free to continue her duties.”

  “Good.” Tancred still avoided looking at Damaris as he continued, “Will you and your escort remain the night? I can have rooms prepared for you.”

  “No,” the female inquisitor replied, “thank you, my lord. It is a generous offer, however we must return to Eryri with our findings.”

  He nodded. “I understand. Mistress Desrosiers, return to your duties.” He then swept an arm toward the open door. “Inquisitors, allow me to escort you to the bailey.”

  It felt as he was leaving a precious jewel behind as he walked out of the storeroom with the two inquisitors. Somehow it seemed . . . wrong. He wanted to stay by her side, assure himself that she was truly unharmed. He forced himself to keep walking.

  Captain Huon fell into step just behind him and remained until the hippogriffs launched themselves into the sky once more. Then and only then did the man break his silence. “It was not a wise thing to interrupt their interrogations.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  “They will return. Most likely with more guards, and they will not be so accommodating the next time.”

  His head snapped around to stare at the bigger man. “Would you have me stand by while they took Damaris? On false charges?”

  “I would have advised you to use more caution, my lord.”

  Tancred shook his head as the wind whipped around them, snatching at their cloaks. He stepped into the captain’s space and lowered his voice as he hissed, “I was not going to stand by and allow petty jealousies to bring harm to an innocent woman, especially when she is my responsibility.”

  The captain frowned. “You sound like a man whose feelings for a woman are stronger than would be wise for your situation.”

  He stared at the man for a long moment, chest heaving. “Do I?”

  “Yes. And, you had best pray the inquisitors did not hear it as well.”

  * * *

  Damaris knelt beside the roses, running her fingers along the budding leaves and deftly avoiding the thorns of the stalks. There were no buds forming yet that would bloom into roses. However, they would appear soon enough with the encouragement of the hothouse urging their growth.

  “I thought I would find you here.”

  She jumped at the unexpected voice and then hissed as thorns bit into the side of her hand.

  Then he was by her side, dropping into a crouch, as he reached out to grab her injured hand. His lips turned down in a frown. “I am sorry, Damaris.”

  “They are roses. The thorns are part of the beauty.” She caught herself before she did something dragonish and touched his face. Ducking her head a little to meet his gaze, she added, “Please, do not worry. I am well. It’s just a few drops of blood.”

  Tancred’s fingers brushed along her palm, sending sparks of awareness tingling up her arm like embers being stirred to life. His frown remained firmly in place, however. “I do not like it. The inquisitors should not have come to Silvermere so soon, and for you of all people. Do you know who reported you to them?”

  She hesitated and then shrugged. “I . . . I have a suspicion.”

  “As do I,” he intoned with a hint of fury vibrating through his baritone, deepening it. “I will not tolerate such behavior among my people.”

  “Tancred, wait,” she touched the back of his hand with her free hand, “remember what I said about disrupting the balance of your household. Don’t do it. If you punish her, you will isolate and aggravate your housekeeper. A day’s inconvenience is not worth months of upheaval. The inquisitors . . . They have no reason to continue chasing after me. Even the woman was no longer questioning my deeds. She was attempting to force me into giving up your secrets.”

  She tightened her grip on his fingers even as his own clasp closed more firmly around her other hand. Eyes searching his, she added in a low whisper, “I wish you had not interrupted. Your actions could bring the king’s suspicions to rest more heavily on you.”

  He shrugged a shoulder, eyes never leaving her face, as he answered in matching quiet tones, “The king will hesitate before turning against one of his strongest allies in the north. Even if he does not, I am prepared for an inquisition. I can best their tactics without revealing myself. I would not have been sent by the dragon king if this weren’t true.” He glanced down at their entwined hands and then twisted his upper hand to grasp her fingers and raise them as he bent his head. His breath warmed her skin as he brushed his cheek across their backs before murmuring, “I am going to keep you safe, Damaris.”

  “Tancred.” His name was more breathed than spoken.

  When he looked up at her, streaks of fire lightened his brown eyes. There was an intensity in his gaze that froze her in place and at the same time it beckoned to her, warming her. He leaned in toward her, still holding her uninjured hand in his lightly curled grasp as he brushed the back of his knuckles across the curve of her cheek. “I will keep you safe, Damaris, even if it means you must leave Cian Gwenith. I will not allow anything to happen to you. I can’t allow anything to happen to you.”

  He’d closed the distance between them as he spoke, his touch against her cheek a distraction, and then he leaned in further. He pressed his lips against hers, tasting of warmth and a hint of wood smoke. Her eyes closed as she relaxed into the kiss, burying her fingers in his sleeve and gripping his other hand even as he sank his fingers into her hair. The kiss seared through her senses like fire springing from kindling to wood.

  She pulled back, panting for air. Tancred didn’t move away, instead lowering his head to rest against the crook of her neck. She slid one hand up his sleeve to the white cloak and then buried her hand in his unruly hair. She bent her head to rest her cheek against his head, and then froze when she caught sight of a shadow on the other side of the hothouse’s glass walls. Someone was watching them from outside . . . How much had they seen? How long had they been standing there? The shadow turned and vanished before she could make out whom it was.

  Words stuck in her throat as she dropped her hands from Tancred’s hair and shoulder. What was she doing? What was she thinking?”

  “Damaris,” came the roughened whisper in her ear, “what is wrong?”

  She pulled away from him and forced herself to stand. Shaky fingers rose to touch her tender lips before she forced them back to her side. Unable to look at Tancred’s bewildered expression or the heat lingering in his gaze, she stared at her roses. “This is wrong,” she murmured.

  “Why?”

  An involuntary bark of laughter escaped her. Pressing a hand against her stomach, she shook her head. “You know why. You are a dragon, and I am a human. That is something even you cannot change. And even if you could, you are the earl and I am just a maid.”

  Tancred slowly rose from his crouch and reached a hand toward her, but she skittered back to avoid his touch again. It clo
uded her mind and made her forget things. “Damaris.”

  “No.” She thought again of the shadow watching them kiss, of the rumors that would spawn again. The inquisitor’s questions about Tancred’s loyalties washed over her once more, about his feelings for her. She’d denied everything and . . . She had no right to be here, kissing the Earl of Silvermere who was also a dragon. She held out her hand to ward Tancred off when he stepped toward her. “Stop, please. You promised that you did not become so personally involved with your companions or have you forgotten?”

  He stopped in his tracks. An expression she could only call hurt mixed with disappointment flickering across his face before he dropped his hands to his side, curling them into fists. “You are correct. I did assure you of that and this . . . This was a foolish mistake. It will not happen again.”

  Then he spun on his heel and walked away without so much as another word. It was what needed to happen. It was for the better. Yet, her heart ached as though it had been beaten and bruised. Dropping to the ground in front of her roses, Damaris wrapped her arms around herself as she leaned her head back to stare out the glass roof. Losing her heart to the dragon had never been a part of the bargain. And, in truth, she would never survive unscathed if she didn’t take her heart out of the bargain. This was for the best . . . for both of them. If only she could make herself believe it was true.

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  “Your services are not required tonight.”

  He pretended not to notice the disappointment in her dark eyes or the faint whiff of hurt in her scent. She had no right to feel hurt. Not when she was the one who had pulled away first. Damaris offered a slight curtsey. “As you wish, my lord.” She came closer and placed a sealed missive on his desk. “A scalesinger brought this to the hothouse. It looked important.”

  He covered the missive with a scaled hand. The only time scalesingers, noisy little birds about the size of pigeons who liked to pick along a dragon’s scales and horns, appeared in Silvermere were when they carried a message from the dragon king. Something that shouldn’t happen until spring turned to summer.

  Until this last fortnight, he would have told her to stay. Had her listen to the missive, but now . . . He’d let her get too close. That was the reason he’d forgotten himself in the hothouse. Now he needed to regain the boundaries he’d foolishly dropped, especially when memories of their kiss still haunted him.

  He picked up the missive, but didn’t break the seal. Realizing she was still standing there, he rustled his wings in faint irritation. “You are dismissed, Damaris.”

  She looked at him for a long moment before she offered a curtsey and then slipped silently from the room. Tancred stared at the door, fighting the urge to call her back. It was better that she stay away. It was better to have distance. He couldn’t have feelings for his companion . . . It was the sign of a young foolish dragon, and he was not that dragon. Not anymore.

  He slit the seal on the missive and flattened the strip of parchment.

  I am disappointed. You have taken a human as companion and, now, the human king is hunting for you. Revoke the bond of companionship. If the hunt comes too close, you must allow her to be sacrificed.

  The parchment shredded beneath his claws as heat roared to life in his chest, the flames pushing into his throat. Raising the strip of parchment high, he opened his jaws and blew a steady stream of fire. He watched the inked words curl into ash and then crushed it to dust between his hands. There was a spy in his house. He let out another stream of fire, this time barely remembering to aim for the fireplace. The flames leapt high as he contributed to them. Papers rustled as he flapped his wings in an irritated movement. A spy! A dragon or wyvern somehow hidden on his estate. They had to be using magic to disguise themselves, hide their scent, but whom . . . He didn’t know. The dragon king’s instructions rose in his mind’s eye once more, and he breathed another burst of flames. They had exposed Damaris’ presence, and his king had reacted exactly as he had feared.

  He had wanted to wait a full year before alerting the dragon king to her presence in his life. Then, he could’ve claimed the permanency of the bond of companionship to keep her safe from the consequences. Now . . .

  Now, for the first time in his life, his king had given him a command that he could not follow. He could not turn Damaris over to King Stephen and his inquisitors. At best, they would lock her up in a tower. At worst, they would torture her and eventually execute her under a false confession because he knew as surely as he knew gold from painted bronze that she would never give him up.

  And, he could not give her up. Not unless she asked for it. She was his to protect. And, the dragon king . . . Tancred unfurled then furled his wings as he turned away from the fireplace. He stalked around the bookroom, plumes of smoke escaping his nostrils and his mouth. The dragon king was wrong. Damaris was not expendable. And, the spy. He exhaled a dark grey cloud of smoke. The spy would not be allowed to continue unchecked. He or she could choose to act against Damaris on their own if they didn’t see Tancred obeying. A thought that chilled his inner flame. Damaris was human. She had no defenses against dragon magic, no way to resist a malevolent act. He had to do something quickly to protect her.

  * * *

  She didn’t want her bargain with the dragon to end. That was the only thing Damaris still felt certain of after three painful weeks of watching Tancred push her away. She had hurt him, she knew. If only she could find a way to fix it without being vulnerable to heartbreak. But, she didn’t know how.

  Even after three weeks of long silences and early dismissals, she still couldn’t sleep at night without reliving the kiss in her dreams. Without waking up wishing she had handled it differently. But, he was a dragon. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact.

  Still, she’d felt a twinge of disappointment that morning when Tancred hadn’t been in his bookroom when she went to check on him. He also hadn’t shown up in the hothouse; although, she should’ve known better than to expect him, much less look for him. Now, she climbed the stairs to her chamber, intent on removing her cloak and cleaning up before she went in search of her dragon.

  “Damaris.”

  The sheer disappointment she felt at hearing her name rumbled by the wrong voice would have frightened her if she had been thinking clearly. Still, she somehow summoned a small smile as she turned to see Captain Huon climbing the stairs behind her. The captain had the neck of his tunic unlaced and sweat darkened the grey wool as well as dotted his shaved scalp. His leather jerkin was draped over one shoulder. He must have come straight from the training yard.

  “Captain Huon.” Her eyes dropped to the amulet hanging partially out of his tunic. She could just make out a bird’s wing with feathers tipped in flames. A firebird . . .

  His voice pulled her attention back to his face as he rumbled, “The earl wishes for you to join him at the hippogriffs’ roost.”

  She dipped her head. “I understand. Thank you, Captain.”

  He didn’t say another word, merely giving a nod of acknowledgement as he stepped to one side to allow her to scramble past him.

  Doubts had begun to plague her decision to obey the summons by the time she climbed up to the platform over the hippogriffs’ stabling. The formal roost held a single hippogriff stallion, his speckled black feathers and fierce hooked beak giving him a particularly wild look as he flapped his wings impatiently and stamped a back hoof. His feathers melted into a solid black horse body save for the splashes of white on his haunches and patches of black within the white. He flicked his tail as Damaris approached and then opened his beak to hiss.

  Tancred ducked around the hippogriff’s front, smoothing a hand along the beast’s feathered neck. He was dressed as a soldier again, including a white cloak. There was strain in his eyes when she approached him though it didn’t echo in his voice as he broke the silence. “I have a need to go to Carabas. Hippogriff is the fastest way available. I would like for you to acco
mpany me. If you are willing.”

  “Yes.” The word escaped her before she had even begun to consider the complications.

  The corner of his mouth twitched as though he were about to smile or laugh. He did neither. Instead, he walked around to swing himself onto the hippogriff’s back and then he held his arm out to her. When she didn’t take it right away, he raised an eyebrow. “Changed your mind?”

  There was a hint of challenge in his words. She lifted her chin in response and then grasped his forearm before she could second guess her decision. He pulled her up behind him and pressed her arm against his waist. “Hang on to me.”

  She barely had time to wrap her other arm around him before the hippogriff launched itself into the sky. Her breath left her in a rush as the wind whipped past tugging at her skirts, her cloak, and her hair. Her cheeks grew cold even as she ducked her head against Tancred’s shoulders. His hair lashed across her face too as the hippogriff carried them ever higher. She felt a cold dampness against her skin and opened her eyes to see pale grey all around them. They were inside a cloud. Then, they burst into sunlight.

  She raised her head and looked around. Clouds rolled just beneath the hippogriff’s talons and hooves looking as though they were snowy hills and valleys. She could see the slate grey and snow covered crags of the mountains framing the valley in the distance ahead and to their left.

  “Do you like it?”

  She tightened her grip on him as the hippogriff banked left avoiding the face of a cliff. However, she couldn’t help smiling and then laughing. “I love it! How fast can he go?”