Dragon Song (Dawn of the Dragon Queen Book 1)

by Tara West

  “Come on.” Abby tugged her elbow. “What are you waiting for?”

  Safina took a tentative step. The plank rattled beneath her, making a hollow sound. “Is this stable?”

  “Of course, silly.” Abby rolled her eyes with an exaggerated movement. “Surely you’ve been on a pier before.”

  “Aye.” If by pier, Abby meant a few hand-strewn pieces of driftwood her mother had once fashioned into a fishing raft. Safina tried to smile while ignoring the quaking in her limbs. A dragon princess shouldn’t be afraid of a piece of floating wood.

  “Your mama healed me.” Abby untied her bonnet and took it off, swinging it by her side and smiling up at the noonday sun as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “She’s blessed by the angels, isn’t she?”

  Safina’s eyes bulged. She remembered the time the villagers had said her mother was blessed by the angels. Within a fortnight, they’d been accused of witchcraft.

  “Don’t worry.” Abby nudged her with a wink. “I won’t tell. ’Sides, it’s not me you have to worry about. Before you know it, half the town will be asking your mama to make house calls. My nana can’t keep a secret. She’s a regular Western Union.”

  Safina stopped mid-stride, paying little heed to the way the planks shook as others went by. She clutched her stomach, feeling as if those two molasses cookies had sunk to the bottom of her gut like lead stones. “But she gave her word. Crossed her heart.”

  Abby flashed a sideways smile. “Knowing my nana, the way she’ll see it, is if she only tells a few folks it won’t count as blabbing. Then those folks will tell a few folks, and pretty soon your mama will have a long line of callers wanting her to heal their aching knees and whooping coughs.”

  Safina gaped at Abby in stunned silence. A long line of callers? Josef had told them this country was far more vast than the village in which they’d lived. That their ruler had a great army and weapons called guns and cannons which could shoot a dragon out of the sky from a long distance. What would Safina and her mother do if the people of Galveston turned on them? Where would they hide? Safina knew she should warn her mother of impending danger, but then what? Would the dragon queen force her to go back into the cocoon, locking her away at the bottom of the lonely abyss? Against her better judgment, Safina decided not to tell Fiona. Abby might be weaving a tale simply to frighten her. Aye, mayhap that was it. Abby seemed like the mischievous sort. She could be playing a trick.

  Safina fell in beside Abby as they walked toward the side of the pier. They clutched a wooden banister while looking down at the waves splashing violently on the rocky shore.

  Safina studied Abby’s features, noting the melancholy way she frowned at the sea foam. “Is this where you fell?”

  “Yes.” Abby answered on a whisper as her eyes began to mist.

  Safina didn’t understand how Abby could have fallen. “You climbed over the rails?”

  Abby eyed Safina with a challenging glare. “I did.” Her tone held little emotion, leaving Safina feeling cold and hollow.

  Safina was not to be deterred. She had to understand Abby’s purpose and whether or not she’d attempt to do it again. Safina did not wish for her mother’s healing to have been in vain, especially considering all the dragon queen had risked to give Abby life. “Why would you do such a thing?” she asked.

  Abby’s sun-touched skin paled and then flushed before she once more gazed at the sea foam. “I was with my friends. We were just… horsing around.”

  Whatever “horsing around” meant, Safina knew Abby lied. She sensed the girl’s deception, for it clung to her skin and radiated off her bones, clouding her like a cloak, a cloak of lies.

  “Abby!” They both spun around at the sight of two giggling girls waving wildly. The girls hastened toward them, their efforts hampered by their long black skirts, which made loud swishing sounds as they walked.

  “Good grief,” Abby muttered, hands clenched at her sides.

  Though the girls beamed at Abby, their affection clearly wasn’t returned. She wondered what they had done to offend Abby so.

  The eager girls stopped within a breath of them, eyeing Abby with a mixture of surprise and relief.

  The smallest of the two, who had pale wispy hair and a long nose that resembled a bird’s beak, planted tiny fists on her hips. “Even as I see you with my own eyes standing here, I still don’t believe it!”

  The other girl, a tall reedy thing with wide chestnut eyes, dull brown hair, and an unhealthy gray pallor, wrung her hands together, her gaze shifting from her friend to Abby. “I wanted to come see you in the worst way, but Papa won’t let me get within ten feet of a hospital.” She ended on a rasp before coughing into her fist.

  “How are you feeling?” the small girl asked, sounding more accusatory than concerned.

  “Just peachy.” Abby nodded at Safina. “Miss Irene Hesse and Miss Lydia Longwood, I’d like you to meet my new friend, Safi.” Abby gaped at Safina for a moment. Then she covered her mouth and stifled a giggle. “Safina, I don’t even know your last name.”

  Safina flushed as the girls stared pointedly at her. “Safi will do.” Dare she tell them her surname? Or her royal name for that matter? Princess Safina Feira Firesblood, Protector of the Mortal Realm, Keeper of the Elements, Mistress of Fire, and heir to a long-dead legacy of ancient dragons, rulers of the earth until betrayed by humans.

  Irene crinkled her beak nose while eyeing Safina with disdain. “Just Safi?”

  “She’s a bit of a greenhorn,” Abby said curtly, “so go easy on her.”

  Irene’s scowl disappeared in an instant, and she stepped back as if she’d been pushed by an invisible hand.

  Lydia gave Safina a hesitant smile. “Pleased to meet you, Safi.”

  Safina shook Lydia’s outstretched hand, realizing too late that she’d squeezed her fingers too hard. The girl winced before pulling away.

  Lydia shook out her hand. “Your head doesn’t even hurt? Not the slightest bit?” she asked Abby.

  “Nope.” Abby shrugged. “Not in the slightest.”

  “We thought you were going to die, and now here you are, on the pier of all places.” Irene wagged a finger under Abby’s nose. “I can’t believe your nana gave you permission to come here again.”

  Abby looked away from Irene’s iron-eyed gaze.

  “Oh, Abby!” Irene squealed. “You don’t have permission, do you?”

  Abby jutted a foot forward, eyeing both girls with a stony glare. “You two had better not blab about it.”

  They shared nervous glances. Safina knew without a doubt, they planned to blab to the whole of Galveston.

  “Charlotte has been worried sick about you. She’s in a bad way and can hardly get out of bed.” Irene patted her stomach as she and Lydia shared knowing smiles. “Maybe you should call on her.”

  “I’d love to,” Abby said with an unaffected air, “but I promised Safi I’d show her around the city.” She latched onto Safina’s elbow, pulling her to her side as if she were a shield.

  Lydia clapped her hands together, her dull eyes brightening. “What better way to start than a visit to Broadway Street?”

  “Charlotte has been our dearest friend since we were children, and she married one of the most sought after bachelors in all of Galveston.” Irene leaned toward Safina, speaking in an excited whisper. “She was an orphan, too, totally out of Mr. Carter’s class, but he was so madly in love, he just had to marry her.”

  “Their marriage is like a fairytale,” Lydia said in a dreamy voice, her eyes glassing over, clouded by a distant memory or perhaps a fantasy of her own. “An honest to goodness fairytale.”

  Irene playfully swatted Abby’s shoulder and then turned up her long beak nose. “Oh, you simply must take Safi when you call on Charlotte.”

  Lydia eagerly nodded, speaking with the authority of a woman beyond her years. “You can drink tea from the finest porcelain in all of Texas.”

  Abby impatiently blew a stray wisp of hair out of
her face. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

  Lydia opened a small fan with a snap, waving it in front of her face with an exaggerated movement. “Not hardly. Charlotte told me herself she bought the tea set when they honeymooned in France. It has little red roses and real gold trim.”

  “We’d better skedaddle.” Abby tugged Safina’s sleeve. “I wouldn’t want Safina to miss out on gold trim. Come on,” she growled.

  As they walked noisily across the planks, Safina threw a glance over her shoulder. Lydia smiled, offering a hesitant wave, while Irene gaped at the back of Abby’s skull.

  Though Safina had never formed real friendships with mortal girls, she was pleased that neither Irene nor Lydia had called her names or thrown rocks at her. Surely mortals had grown kinder over the centuries.

  “They seemed nice,” Safina said.

  Abby made a snorting sound. “They both pretend to be Galveston mucky mucks. They think some Jim Dandy is going to want to marry them, too, but neither of them is half as pretty as Charlotte.” Abby seemed to be completely unaware, or perhaps just unaffected, at the grumblings from strangers as she moved through the crowd, trampling feet and skirts. “Ever since Charlotte married that banker, she’s high falutin’.” She continued to drag Safina out onto the street and past several fancy, horse-drawn carts. “She forgets it was just last year she was scrubbin’ floors at St. Mary’s Orphanage. The only time she ever got a decent meal was at my nana’s house. Now it’s caviar imported from France and fancy-pantsy ice cream. Not that I give a hoot. Her husband’s got a horse face and a soup strainer moustache.” Abby stopped for breath, placing a hand on her chest as people and horses whirred past.

  Safina wasn’t exactly sure what “mucky mucks,” “fancy pantsy,” and “giving a hoot” meant, but she was willing to wager Abby’s tirade stemmed from envy.

  “I’m not sure if she’s receiving visitors today, but no matter.” Abby’s hand shook as she pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “If Charlotte can’t make time for an old friend, then she’s hardly a friend at all.” With a stiff spine, she marched back from whence they’d come.

  Safina reluctantly followed. Why did she get the feeling visiting this girl named Charlotte would feel as stifling as her shell beneath the sea?

  * * *

  Fiona looked away from the mortal boy, Gabriel, unable to stand the sight of his feeble legs a moment longer. They dangled from his hips like two broken reeds. Such a shame, for twin flames were alight beneath the pools of his large, dark eyes, and Fiona knew the boy was wise beyond his years.

  He studied her, not as a hawk eyes a mouse, but as a pupil watches his teacher, while she smoothed a hand down his scrawny shins. He’d make a strong speaker one day, for she sensed the hum of magic pulsing off him. Whether he’d learn to harness it, she’d no idea. But he wouldn’t be safe to himself or anyone if his magic went unchecked. Fiona reminded herself this boy was almost a man now. Perhaps it was for the best he was relegated to that wooden wheeled chair.

  If she healed him, he could turn against her as others had. He might use his newfound strength to lead a mob to her door. She would be risking Safina’s life and her own if she restored his legs. But if she didn’t, she would be bonded to Duncan forever. As long as their souls were tethered, Duncan could find them and finish off her race for good. Lamenting her lost love for an eternity was a fate worse than death.

  A lump wedged in her throat as she quickly walked toward Josef’s front porch. She needed air, more so than when she’d been trapped in her stifling shell. Though the air was so much warmer in Galveston than she’d been accustomed to, the breeze felt nice, carrying with it the fragrant and robust smell of the ocean. Fiona was always more at ease when she was by the sea. Josef’s home was far from the shoreline, but she could still hear the ocean birds calling to one another. When she peered down the long, sandy road, just beyond the rows of houses, to the crush of people and their carts, she could discern the thin line of water on the horizon.

  Passers-by boldly stared at her. Josef had warned her the locals would find her a curiosity. She couldn’t help but stare back, for she found them most curious, too. In the time she’d left behind, there’d been a definite distinction of class, as the noblemen and women wore fine silks with embroidered needlework while those forced to live as peasants such as she and her daughter wore roughly woven dresses that chaffed their smooth, human skin. Here, all ladies seemed to dress alike in long white or black skirts with white frilly tops, made of delicate, soft fabrics. And the men preferred those silly black hats, fitted black suits, and moustaches that looked as if they’d been oiled with tallow. How hard it was to distinguish rank and breeding, and yet nobody seemed to mind. Perhaps, she thought wistfully, humankind had grown more forbearing over the centuries. But she was no fool to hope their tolerance would extend to dragons.

  Behind her she heard the old man’s feeble steps. He sounded much like his cart, worn and uneven, with planks buckling from many years of use. There was an unevenness in his gait. She’d seen him stop to nurse a knee more than once. She wondered if he’d ever tried to heal it and why he did not ask her for help now. Something as simple as worn tendons and sore bones would have taken Fiona a matter of seconds to repair.

  “Mi reina,” Josef whispered at her back.

  She let out a deep breath, smoothing a hand across her brow. The breeze had dislodged more strands of her hair from the confines of the pins Mrs. Jenkens had carefully worked into place. Those pins were meant to trap something so very much like her magic, which could not be contained. No matter how hard she tried to conceal it, her compassionate nature always found a way to break free. It would be her downfall, for no good could come from helping mortals.

  “His infirmity is too severe,” she said.

  “But you said your powers were strong.”

  Fiona turned on the old man, momentarily taken aback by the way Josef leaned against the doorframe. That’s when she realized he was living on borrowed time. Perhaps the only thing keeping him alive was his love for his family. A love that could get Safina and Fiona killed.

  “I know what I said,” she snapped.

  Josef crinkled his woolen cap in his hand, eyeing her with despair. “Abby would have died if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” she spat. “People have been known to wake after their sickness has run its course,” she reminded him, hating the guilt that felt like a noose around her neck. “But your grandson cannot even walk, Josef. How will I explain that?” She turned to the bustling road. The villagers of Galveston were vibrant and carefree, but a lot could change if they discovered Fiona’s secrets.

  “You let me worry about that.”

  He spoke with false confidence. Fiona could hear it in the unsteady tenor of his voice. How indeed would he explain his lame child being miraculously healed?

  Fiona was unable to mask her bitterness. “Forgive me, but I cannot put the fates of my daughter and myself in anyone’s hands but my own.”

  “He is a kind boy and smart, smarter than any of these gringo doctors and lawyers.” Josef frowned, waving a hand toward the road. “I sense he can do great things in this world. If only he could walk. Please.” Josef ended with such a soulful plea, Fiona knew not even her hardened heart could resist him.

  “I will heal him… after you break the bond with my mate. You will also provide me with enough coin so Safina and I may flee if we need to.”

  “Si, mi reina, but I will hold you to your word. After I break the bond, you will heal my Gabriel.”

  She narrowed her eyes at Josef. He shrank before her like a flower wilting beneath the heat of the Texas sun.

  “A dragoness always keeps her word, Josef,” she said with all the regality befitting a queen. “Of that you can be sure.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Safina was at a loss for words, for never before had she been in such a fine structure, more like a grand castle for many lords and l
adies than a dwelling for a young woman and her husband. Abby assured her ’twas merely the home of her best friend Charlotte and her new husband, Mr. Theodore Carter. After they crossed a pretty courtyard with fragrant peach trees and ascended fancy tile steps, they stood in what Abby called the foyer beneath mahogany doors tall enough to have admitted Safina in dragon form. They had colored glass windows depicting a scene of flowers in the spring. Abby pushed a large button on the tile wall that produced the beautiful sound of ringing bells, heralding their arrival.

  Oh, Almighty Mother! Here was a palace fit for a dragon royal. Safina hadn’t met Charlotte yet, and already she was envious that a mere mortal should live in such a place.

  The door creaked open, revealing a tall, robust man with skin the color of polished onyx. He wore a smooth black suit with a weave so tight not even Safina’s dragon-touched eyes could detect a flaw. The whites of his eyes shone as he gaped at Abby.

  “M-Miss Abby!” he stammered, his dark skin turning a sickly shade of grey.

  Abby planted hands on her hips, scowling up at him. “Well, Josiah, are you going to let us in?”

  “Forgive me, miss. You startled me. My mistress has been beside herself, thinking you would never recover.” He frowned, wringing his big hands together. “And Lord have mercy, here you are.” There was no doubting his surprise. His hands shook and his voice quavered. “You are not an apparition, are you?”

  Abby blew out an exasperated breath, swatting at the big man as if he was a fly. “You know I don’t believe in none of that hogwash, Josiah.” She tugged on Safina’s hand, then pushed past him. “I don’t have a calling card, but I’m sure Mrs. Carter can make time for her oldest and dearest friend.”

  “I’ll get my mistress.” Josiah nearly tripped over a finely woven rug while looking back at Abby as if she indeed was a ghost.

  “Let’s go wait in the parlor.” Abby led Safina across polished wooden floors.