Tears were flowing down Jocelyn’s cheeks now, the horror of that memory as fresh as if it had been the day before. “He wasn’t guilty of anything but offending me, and he almost paid with his life. And no one but Eamon ever even found out what I did. I couldn’t tell anyone about my role in it without revealing my secret, but even if I could, I don’t think I would have. I was too ashamed, too horrified by what I had done.”
There was a long moment of silence after her tale. She didn’t dare to meet Kincaid’s eyes, instead wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand, suddenly self-conscious.
“I’m sorry,” said Kincaid at last. “I’m sorry you’ve carried the burden of this secret and this fear for so long. And I understand why you feel that it’s too dangerous to speak, even if I don’t entirely agree. But please, Jocelyn.” His voice was so earnest that she couldn’t help but look up. He was watching her seriously.
“Please don’t swallow your words when you’re with me. I hate to think how lonely your life has been, and I want you to be free when we’re together, I truly do.” He gave a crooked smile. “Otherwise I can’t help but think I’ve ruined your peace by inviting myself on this quest. Because I’m guessing Elddreki isn’t affected.”
“He’s not,” Jocelyn acknowledged quietly. “He can tell there’s power in my words—he says it’s dragon magic, although even he can’t explain how it got there—but it has no impact on him.”
Kincaid nodded. “So you’ll talk freely when I’m around?” he prompted.
Jocelyn hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.
“You won’t,” said Kincaid firmly.
“You can’t know that.”
He gave her an understanding smile. “I’m not afraid of you, Princess Jocelyn of the House of Dragonfriend.” He chuckled. “Perhaps I should be, but I’m not.”
“I’m afraid of you,” Jocelyn whispered, only half intending him to hear. For a moment Kincaid looked startled, and a little hurt, but his expression cleared as he took her meaning.
“You don’t need to be. I told you, I’ll keep your secret.” She kept her eyes down, but she could feel his gaze on her. “You’ve held this on your own for too long, Jocelyn. It’s a good thing that I know now.”
She wasn’t looking at him, so she didn’t have any warning before he took her by the shoulders, the warmth of his hands seeming to sear through the fabric of her conspicuous, costly dress as he pulled her closer.
“It really is, Jocelyn. Trust me.”
She tried to look up, but his chest was somehow impossibly close all of a sudden. The physical and emotional exertions of the day were starting to take a toll, and she felt overwhelmed by her weariness. The temptation to lay her head against him was momentarily irresistible, and she gave in to it before she knew what she was doing. Kincaid took the gesture in stride, putting a comforting arm around her back. She remembered thinking that Eamon wouldn’t want his sister crying on his shoulder. Well, she wasn’t crying, so perhaps that was why Kincaid didn’t seem to mind.
“You promised that if we went into town, you would do all the talking,” she said, her voice coming out muffled.
Kincaid chuckled and released her, and Jocelyn stepped back quickly, trying to regain her composure.
“Good thing I didn’t keep that promise, or we’d probably be locked in a wood cellar somewhere.”
“You might be,” said Jocelyn dryly. “I’d be off having my head shaved.” She ran a hand down her braid, reassuring herself that it was all still there. Kincaid smiled knowingly at the gesture, and she dropped her hand quickly.
“He was right that your hair is perfect as it is.”
“Are you sure?” Jocelyn asked lightly. “I was thinking of asking Elddreki if he could spare some scales for me to crush into powder, just in case.”
Kincaid laughed again. “Speaking of Elddreki…” He inclined his head questioningly, and Jocelyn nodded.
With a last glance in the direction of the town, the two of them began to walk again.
Chapter Fourteen
Elddreki was not difficult to find.
He was sitting on the very top of Dragoncave, his tail curled around his legs and his head tilted toward the mountains across the river, where the Dragon Realm was concealed from human eyes. He was clearly waiting for them, but nothing in his posture suggested impatience. He was so still that from a distance, Jocelyn could almost believe he was just a statue of a dragon. But as they drew closer, he turned toward them, the late afternoon sunshine glinting off his scales in green and blue and purple. She had thought the mound that concealed Dragoncave was large, but with Elddreki perched on top, it looked smaller, somehow.
“Are you really the smallest dragon in your colony?” she asked when they were close enough for speech.
Elddreki looked down at her.
“Greetings, Jocelyn, Kincaid.” There was a hint of reproach in his voice. Elddreki may have been willing to dispense with her title, but Jocelyn was learning that formalities were important to dragons. “I am indeed the smallest dragon in my colony. In fact, I am the youngest by quite a significant margin.”
“The youngest?” repeated Kincaid curiously. “Does that relate to your size?”
“Of course,” said Elddreki. “Do humans not grow larger as they get older?”
“Well, yes,” Kincaid said. “But only to a certain point. Once we reach adulthood we sort of…stop growing.”
“We actually get smaller sometimes, if we’re really old,” Jocelyn interjected helpfully.
“Smaller?” repeated Elddreki, amazed. “How odd.” He looked between the two of them. “So you two, for example, will never be larger than you are now?”
“Nope,” said Kincaid cheerfully. “This is as tall as I’ll get.” He shot Jocelyn a cheeky look. “And Jocelyn will always be petite.”
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks felt strangely warm.
“Well, dragons continue to grow indefinitely,” said Elddreki. “As I am the youngest in my colony, I am smaller than my fellows. Our ruler, Qadir, is the oldest, and his size is immense, even in dragon terms.”
“How old are you?” Kincaid’s question seemed impertinent to Jocelyn, but Elddreki didn’t seem to mind.
“Close to four hundred years, as a human would count,” said Elddreki. “Much younger than most of the others in Vasilisa. I will continue to grow, of course, but so will the others, so I will always be the smallest of us.”
“Unless new dragons come along,” Jocelyn said encouragingly, but Elddreki shook his head sadly.
“There are no dragonlings in my colony’s future, young Jocelyn.”
“Can dragons see the future, then?” Kincaid asked, awed.
Elddreki looked amused for a moment, but then sadness descended on his face again. “No, Valorian, we cannot. But we can make predictions based on what we know, as any human can.”
He peered down at the two companions below him, a slight frown crossing his features. “You look flushed, Jocelyn.” His eyes passed to Kincaid. “And you are holding yourself unusually tightly.”
“Am I?” asked Kincaid, rolling his shoulders as if to relieve the tension. “Well, it’s probably because of what happened in the town. We uh…”
“Let me guess,” Elddreki interrupted. “You ran into trouble?” He looked between them. “It is quite a habit, it seems. We must factor it into our plans, to allow for trouble every time you encounter other humans as we travel through this land.”
“Nonsense,” said Kincaid, sounding put out. “Valoria is actually a very pleasant kingdom.” Jocelyn raised an eyebrow at him, and he looked pained. “It is, honestly,” he said defensively. “You should see Bryford, where I’m from. It’s a beautiful city, and the people are wonderful. It’s just so isolated up here in the North Wilds, it’s hard to get reliable law keepers who are willing to stay any length of time, and—”
“All right, we’ll take your word for it,” Jocelyn cut him off
, amused. She supposed she would react similarly to a slight on Kyona.
“I won’t,” said Elddreki without heat. “I will make my own observations, and form my own conclusions.”
Jocelyn giggled, and Kincaid shot her an unimpressed look.
“Did you achieve what you wished to achieve in the town, at least?” Elddreki continued. “Are you ready to attempt the cave?”
Kincaid hesitated, looking at Jocelyn. “It’s been a big day, and it will be dark in a couple of hours. Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow.”
Jocelyn shook her head. “No, let’s do this. I suspect it will be dark inside the cave regardless of the time of day. And I’m not keen to linger near that town. I’d like to reach the supposedly pleasant rest of the kingdom.”
“Before you go back to Kyona,” said Kincaid sternly, “I will get you to acknowledge that Valoria is a wonderful kingdom. And that’s a promise.”
“Then it is a very hasty and foolish promise,” observed Elddreki. “Since it is so utterly out of your control.” He shook his vast head. “You humans really do make promises very lightly.”
Kincaid looked rueful, but he didn’t retract his promise. He knelt down on the scrubby ground, rummaging through his pack until he extracted the oil lamps he had bought in the town.
He filled them from a small jar of oil he had also purchased, then trimmed the wicks carefully with a knife, which was concealed in his boot, and which Jocelyn hadn’t previously seen him use.
“I don’t think a flame will survive the journey into the cave somehow, so I’ll light them once we’re in there if you don’t object.”
Jocelyn shook her head. “Whatever you think. I’m not really experienced in cave exploration.”
Kincaid grinned. “Well, neither am I, to be honest.”
“Not many dark and sinister caves in the Valorian capital city?” Jocelyn teased.
“About as many as in the Kyonan capital, I’m guessing.”
Elddreki was looking between them carefully during this exchange. “Something is different between you,” he said thoughtfully. “You’re speaking more freely. There is a flavor of…” he thought for a moment, “release. And…affection? Or friendship, perhaps.” He nodded, pleased with his conclusion.
“Very observant of you,” acknowledged Kincaid, sounding amused. “Jocelyn was hardly speaking to me before. But now she can speak freely, because she told me about the power in her words. Or I figured it out, sort of.”
“Didn’t you know about it?” asked Elddreki. “It is most curious, is it not?”
“Most,” agreed Kincaid. “Is it true you think it’s dragon magic?”
“It is certainly dragon magic,” said Elddreki. “Although how or why she can be a carrier of dragon magic, I have not yet figured out. Neither have I fully satisfied myself as to the nature of her power.”
“You do know I’m right here, don’t you?” Jocelyn asked the pair of them dryly.
“Sorry,” said Kincaid, but his smile was unrepentant. “Have you figured out the nature of your power? How does it work? Do people just do whatever you tell them to?”
“Hardly,” said Jocelyn grimly. “I wish it were that simple, and that predictable. Then I could prevent it when I didn’t want to use it by simply not giving instructions.” She frowned. “It’s much more subtle than that. It’s like planting seeds in the mind. And I’ve found the power of suggestion goes much further than plain statements. The trouble is it’s dangerously easy to suggest an idea without meaning to, or even being aware you’ve done it.”
She sighed. “I’ve given it a lot of thought over the years, as you can imagine, and I’m pretty sure I understand the basic gist of it. My power is confusion—I can confuse people with the seeds I plant. I can make them question what they thought before. Usually people won’t question deeply held beliefs from my words, not unless they’re particularly weak-minded. And exposure to me seems to decrease the potency of the power, fortunately. My parents, for example, are not usually affected. But still…”
She looked at Kincaid, sadness in her eyes. “You can see why I don’t exactly see it as a good thing. Confusion isn’t the nicest quality, is it? And far from ideal for someone at the center of court life, where decisions are made that affect the welfare of the whole kingdom. No kingdom wants a princess who spews chaos and confusion every time she opens her mouth. Kyona deserves better.” She lowered her voice, no longer really speaking to her companions. “And I’m sure Valoria does, too.”
A frown was creasing Kincaid’s forehead, but he had no opportunity to speak, Elddreki beating him to it.
“Confusion? Do you think so? That’s not how I would articulate it. I’m not entirely sure what it is, but I wouldn’t have described it as either chaos or confusion.”
“Don’t you think I would be the most likely to know the nature of my own power?” asked Jocelyn, a little affronted.
“Certainly not,” said Elddreki comfortably. “I would imagine I am more likely to know, being vastly superior to you in both intellect and knowledge.”
Kincaid gave a choking cough which Jocelyn had no doubt concealed a laugh. She glared at the pair of them.
“That may be the case, but I apparently possess a quality you don’t, namely that I’m petite. So let’s get this over with.” She craned her neck to look up at the dragon, who was still perched atop the mound. “Any further hints as to what we’re looking for?”
Elddreki did a strange rippling shrug. “Not really, except I am now confident there is something to find.”
“You are?” asked Jocelyn, startled.
Elddreki nodded. “I have examined the exterior in your absence, and my kind have certainly been here before. The signature is distant in time but distinct in nature.”
“Really?” Jocelyn exchanged a look with Kincaid, and she could see her own excitement reflected on his face. She didn’t doubt Elddreki’s assessment—him being so vastly superior in intellect and all—and her enthusiasm for the task was significantly increased now she knew it wasn’t a wild goose chase. She looked again at the narrow opening, momentarily dubious.
“But how would they have gotten in?”
“It has been a long time,” said Elddreki. “I suspect the level of the ground has changed in the intervening centuries.”
Jocelyn nodded. It was a reasonable explanation.
“Whatever you find inside,” Elddreki continued, “dragons have certainly sat where I sit now. See for yourself.”
With his usual casual grace, the dragon opened his jaws and released a white-hot plume of flame immediately down onto the rock below his talons. It spread out rapidly across the rocky mound, covering most of the surface. He sustained it for several long seconds, apparently oblivious to the involuntary cries of his companions, both of whom jumped back in alarm.
But when the stream ceased, Jocelyn gasped in amazement. She stepped forward, reaching out a cautious hand to touch the rock. It was cool under her fingers, despite being doused in the heat of Elddreki’s fire. But that wasn’t the phenomenon that captured her.
Strange markings had appeared on the rock, glowing with lingering light or heat or magic from the dragon flame. Where the contours of the rock had seemed unremarkable, Jocelyn suddenly saw patterns, even stories.
“These ridges were made by dragon talons,” she said, running a hand along one of the glowing marks. She turned her attention to a small hollow. “And this was a launching point, where dragons pushed themselves off.”
“How can you tell?” Kincaid asked, frowning as he joined her next to the mound.
“You don’t see how it’s lit up by Elddreki’s magic?” she asked, turning to him in surprise.
“I can see the markings,” said Kincaid. “But they don’t look like runes or anything, just lines in the rock. How can you tell they were made by dragon talons?”
“I don’t know,” said Jocelyn, frowning herself now. “I just can.”
“Interesting,” Elddrek
i mused, drawing their attention back to him on his perch above them. “Maybe it is the dragon magic that lingers in you.”
“Maybe,” said Jocelyn uncomfortably. She glanced at Kincaid, who was watching her with a thoughtful expression. “If we’re going into the cave, I think we should get on with it.”
She walked purposefully toward the small opening, but Kincaid was ahead of her. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t it be ladies first?”
He grinned. “But you’re not a lady, are you? You’re a princess.”
“Kincaid—”
He shot her an impudent look. “I’m going in first, Jocelyn, and you’re not going to change my mind about it.” His grin widened. “Unless you manage to change it by using your power, that is.”
She glared at him, but he was already at the fissure, dropping onto his belly. “I’ll wriggle through, then you can push my pack in after me. I’ll take one of these lamps though, so I can make some light and tell you if it’s safe to follow.”
“And I’ll follow regardless of what you say,” Jocelyn returned placidly.
Kincaid had been about to disappear into the hole, head first, but he turned around, his expression stern. “Don’t be contrary, Jocelyn. It’s not a becoming quality in a lady.”
Jocelyn grinned, well aware he was teasing her. “But I’m not a lady, remember? I’m a princess.” He turned back around, smiling, and she added, “And since we apparently have a flavor of friendship now, you can call me Joss. It’s what my friends call me.”
Kincaid paused for a moment, but he didn’t turn around again. “Very well, Joss,” he said, his voice coming out muffled since he had already started crawling into the darkness of the opening.
It was strange to watch him disappear inch by inch, legs, ankles, and eventually feet swallowed by the cave. Once he got his shoulders through—which took a little bit of wriggling—Jocelyn knew the rest of him would fit. It gave her a strange squirming feeling, to think of going face first into a dark hole. She would never have admitted it, but she was glad Kincaid was going first.
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