Everything came rushing back, and she winced again as she glanced down at her hands. The feeling of dragon flame had not been imagined, apparently. Her palms looked like they had suffered serious burns where they had been placed against Elddreki’s flank. She frowned. Something was strange, though. The burns were not fresh. Had someone accelerated the healing using dragon magic? She flexed her fingers, grimacing. If so, could they do it again?
A sudden sound startled her, and she looked over to see a red and blue dragon, smaller even than Raqisa, loping through the trees toward her. The beast looked up and stopped abruptly at the sight of her, upright and awake. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could do so, the dragon had taken to the air in a gust of wind that shook the trees.
Jocelyn blinked, disoriented.
She leaned forward with a groan, shaking out her stiff and aching limbs. Before she could push herself to her feet, she looked up, alerted by a rushing sound. Elddreki and Raqisa alighted together, their eyes unusually wide as they stared at her.
“Jocelyn. You have woken.”
“Did it work?” Jocelyn asked eagerly, without preamble. She stared at Elddreki, trying to tell if he seemed different. “Did the change happen?”
“Yes,” Raqisa answered, sounding awestruck. Jocelyn glanced at the yellow dragon and swallowed. It was unnerving to have a creature of such wisdom and power as a dragon look at her with that wonder in her eyes. “I can hardly believe my own words, but yes. It worked.”
Jocelyn looked at Elddreki. He was the same, and yet different, and he was looking at her with an unfathomable expression.
“You’re…you’re mortal?” she whispered.
“I am,” he said evenly.
“Are…” She swallowed again. “Are you glad?”
His reptilian face softened into a smile. “I am glad. More than that. I am grateful.”
“As am I,” said Raqisa softly. A look passed between the two dragons. There was nothing remotely romantic, or even emotional, about it, but somehow it felt too intimate for comfort, and Jocelyn looked away.
“There are no words to convey my astonishment, Jocelyn,” Elddreki continued. “That such a thing should be possible…it would never have occurred to me. I still can hardly believe it.” His eyes searched her form, concern lingering in their depths. “I know it was I who encouraged you to use your power without fear. But I didn’t expect you to undertake such an ambitious task so quickly. I fear it was too great an exertion for you. You pushed yourself further than your human form could sustain. We feared you would not wake.”
“I do feel pretty battered,” Jocelyn admitted with a grimace. “How long was I unconscious?”
“No great span of time, all things considered,” said Elddreki. He gave a grim chuckle. “Although already the passage of time is starting to take on a new meaning for me.” He looked up and seemed to realize she was still waiting. “You have been unconscious for only a week.”
“A week?!” Jocelyn shot to her feet, her mouth falling open. “I’ve been lying here for a week?!”
“Indeed,” Raqisa acknowledged mildly. “How do you feel?”
Jocelyn took stock of herself, rolling her shoulders. “Hungry,” she said, with the hint of a laugh. She looked around. “Is my pack still here somewhere? Some of the food will still be all right.” She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head. “I can’t believe I’ve been out of it for a week.”
“I’m afraid your pack fell victim to some overenthusiastic dragonlings,” said Raqisa apologetically. “I don’t think anything edible would have survived.”
Jocelyn tried not to show her dismay. But now she’d articulated it, her hunger was overwhelming.
“Perhaps I can hunt for you back on the mainland,” offered Elddreki. “And bring you food here.” He gave her an appraising look. “To speak honestly, you still look much too weak to fend for yourself.”
Jocelyn shook her head. “Actually, I think it’s time for me to stop hiding away, especially if I’ve already lost a week.” She looked up at her dragon companion. “Are you willing to help me fly again, Elddreki?”
“I am,” he responded gravely. “To any place you can name. Where are we going?”
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her sudden nerves.
“Bryford.”
It wasn’t exactly comfortable being carried through the air in a dragon’s talons, especially when every inch of Jocelyn still ached with the slightest movement. But nevertheless, the flight was absurdly, terrifyingly short. In less than an hour, they had covered a distance that would have taken days by horse, and Jocelyn could see the Valorian capital, drawing closer by the second on the plain below.
She swallowed nervously. Bryford at last.
It was certainly a beautiful city, at least from a bird’s eye view. It sat right on the bank of the Great River, which formed the border between Valoria and Kyona. Immediately south of the city, the river cascaded down in a mighty waterfall, beautiful and dangerous and captivating. The late morning sunshine glinted off the dancing spray, making the falls seem alive.
Just across the river, the mountains loomed in an imposing barrier. Peering down from her vantage point in Elddreki’s claws, Jocelyn could see the path she was supposed to have taken, winding down through the mountains from Montego, then making straight for Bryford, across a sturdy wooden bridge spanning the water some way upstream from the falls.
The city itself was gray stone, not unlike Kynton. It was perched at the top of the falls, its wall looking solid and strong. The castle was the clear feature, even from high above. It sat right at the center of the city, its turrets rising impressively, many brightly colored pennants waving merrily in the light breeze. Jocelyn wondered fleetingly whether Princess Sarai would have formed a better first impression of the city if she could have arrived by dragon.
Jocelyn barely had time to take it all in before Elddreki began to descend. Of course they bypassed the city’s massive wooden gates, which opened onto the main highway, running south from the capital. Elddreki simply dropped in from above, completely unhindered by walls or sentries. In moments she could hear panicked screams issuing from the city. And in moments more, she found her feet hitting the stone flagway of the large courtyard from which the castle rose. She winced as the impact sent pain shooting up the aching muscles of her legs.
She shook out her skirts and smoothed her hair nervously, aware she must look as windswept as she felt. People had been milling around the courtyard when they approached, but upon the arrival of the dragon and his burden, everyone fled. The flagstones were deserted, and Jocelyn could dimly hear the sounds of the dramatic tale spreading further throughout the city.
She hesitated, looking up at Elddreki. He was watching her expectantly, his head cocked to the side in a questioning gesture. She felt foolish. She had thought only of getting to Bryford—she hadn’t even questioned what she would do once she arrived. Should she stroll up to the front door of the castle and announce herself as the missing princess, come to stay after all? It would be helpful to know what, if anything, her father had told the Valorian royals about her change in plan.
Before she could decide what to do, she heard the stamp of approaching feet. A moment later a full troop of what appeared to be royal guards hurried into the courtyard in good order. They drew into formation, shields raised and swords out, with archers at the rear. Jocelyn drew back instinctively, leaning against Elddreki for protection. She saw a middle-aged guard give a curt nod, and following his gaze she saw archers positioned along the battlements of the castle. She swallowed.
The guards made no move to advance, just waited expectantly. Within minutes another troop arrived, forming up alongside the first. Jocelyn was blinking at the array of spears and swords before her, their metal glistening in the sunshine, when a ripple passed through the two groups. A tall middle-aged man strode forward from the troops, flanked by two burly guards. He wore no crown, but from his bearing and the behavio
r of the guards, Jocelyn had no doubt she was looking at King Malcolm.
She gulped. This was not quite how she had pictured her introduction to her potential future father-in-law.
“I am the king of this land,” King Malcolm said, his voice steady and his eyes on Elddreki. “Do you come to us in peace, Mighty Beast?”
Elddreki inclined his head ever so slightly. “I come in peace, king of men. I come to deliver my companion safely to you, as she has fulfilled the quest she undertook in order to make good her father’s promise to me. I believe you are expecting her.”
The king’s eyes moved calmly from the dragon to the young woman still cowering against his flanks. Jocelyn took a deep breath and stepped forward, trying to act like the princess she was raised to be.
“Greetings, Your Majesty,” she said, sweeping as graceful a curtsy as she could manage in her simple skirts. The movement was painful, but she didn’t show it on her face. “I am Princess Jocelyn of Kyona, and I am honored to meet you at last. I offer my apologies for the unexpected delay that prevented me from arriving with the rest of the delegation sent from Kynton by my father the king.”
She resisted the urge to again smooth her hair, miserably conscious of how little she looked like a princess of Kyona, in her stained and rumpled peasant dress, ripped at the sleeve and singed at the hem. The peaceful haven of Wyvern Islands seemed far far away, and back in the world of men she felt almost as fearful as she ever had. Her power swirled alarmingly, and it was all she could do to hold it in. At least she had a better idea now of how to do that.
King Malcolm’s keen eyes assessed Jocelyn with unnerving penetration. “Greetings, Princess Jocelyn,” he said at last. “You are welcome here. As your noble companion has said, we are expecting you.”
“Thank you, Sire,” said Jocelyn formally, and the Valorian king’s attention returned to Elddreki.
Jocelyn had to be impressed by his air of confidence under the circumstances. It was no surprise that he was much older than her own father, and not just because Prince Ormond was some nine years her senior. She knew her father had become king very young, and that her parents had been only a couple of years older than Jocelyn was now when she and Eamon were born. But somehow, seeing the stately silver-haired foreign king brought home to her in a new way just how inexperienced a king her father still was, relatively speaking.
“We would be honored to make you welcome, should you wish to stay with your companion,” King Malcolm was saying to Elddreki, but the dragon shook his head.
“Thank you, but I will not linger.” He met Jocelyn’s eyes, a gentle smile curving his reptilian mouth. “I find my time is suddenly more precious of late.”
Jocelyn forgot about her audience for a moment, turning fully to face Elddreki. Tears suddenly pricked at her eyes at the realization that they were about to say goodbye. The friendship between her and the dragon was as unexpected as it was unusual, but she knew she would miss him terribly when he was gone.
“Will I see you again?” she asked.
“I do not know,” Elddreki acknowledged. “I cannot see the future.”
Jocelyn nodded, a lump in her throat. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything. I am more glad than I can say that our quest was successful.”
“No indeed, daughter of kings,” said Elddreki. “It is for me to thank you. For your assistance, and for the gift you have given me.” He lowered his head until it was directly before hers. “You have much more than repaid my services to your father, and it is now I who stand in your debt. And so I shall tell your father if ever again we speak.”
Jocelyn reached out and laid one blistered palm on the dragon’s bearded head, closing her eyes for a moment as she breathed in the familiar signature of his magic.
“Goodbye, Elddreki.”
“Goodbye, Jocelyn.”
And with a mighty wind that caused the pennants to flutter wildly, he took to the air and disappeared, his imposing form headed eastward.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jocelyn turned slowly. King Malcolm was watching her appraisingly, his expression uncommunicative. The guards had lowered their weapons, and many of them were staring at her in open astonishment.
Now that the dragon was gone, people had started to emerge from hiding all around the edges of the courtyard. Jocelyn could see them pointing into the sky, clutching each other, and just generally gossiping about the dramatic incident.
“There really is a dragon in Valoria! Did you see its claws?!”
“What did it want?”
“That’s the Kyonan princess!”
“Are you sure?”
Jocelyn flushed involuntarily at the doubtful tone in which that last carrying whisper had been uttered.
“Let me once again welcome you, Princess Jocelyn Dragonfriend.” King Malcolm’s clear words rang across the space, and all other voices ceased. “You are clearly a daughter of your royal house.” There was a note of humor in his voice, and she saw that he was smiling, although his face somehow still looked stern despite the expression.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, holding her head high. She was representing her father’s house, after all. If Princess Sarai could maintain her kingdom’s honor in much more crushing circumstances, surely Jocelyn could too. But the silence stretched out uncomfortably, and the king’s continued scrutiny made her feel young and vulnerable.
Perhaps he could see it, because all at once King Malcolm’s countenance softened, and he beckoned to her. “Come, my dear. Your delegation will be overjoyed to learn of your arrival.”
Jocelyn stumbled forward, the subsequent aching in her limbs eclipsed by her relief that the rest of the group from Kyona were still in Bryford. With any luck, she would be in her own royal clothes before she had to face the rest of King Malcolm’s family.
But it seemed she had no luck. She had ascended the steps to the castle and was crossing the wide entrance hall in the king’s wake, when the sound of running feet made her look up. A tall young man was racing down a corridor toward them, strapping a sword to his side as he came. He was fair-haired, with broad shoulders and thick muscles. His hair was cropped close and his face was attractive, although its expression at that moment was very serious. Jocelyn judged him to be in his mid-twenties, and she didn’t need the familiarity with which he addressed the king to know who he was.
Prince Ormond.
Jocelyn held in a groan at the unlucky encounter. She had never felt more disheveled in her life, and she had a feeling it would be hard to undo the first impression she was about to make.
“Father,” the prince was saying. “I came as soon as the report reached me. A dragon in the courtyard?”
“All is well, Ormond,” said King Malcolm steadily. “The dragon came peacefully, and has now departed. It seems it came only to deliver our guest.”
He glanced over at Jocelyn, and she thought he looked slightly annoyed, as if he too had hoped she would freshen up before he introduced her to his son as a recommended bride. But none of that showed in his voice as he made the introduction.
“Ormond, you will welcome Her Royal Highness Princess Jocelyn of Kyona. Princess, allow me to introduce my son and heir, His Royal Highness Crown Prince Ormond.”
Prince Ormond’s gaze traveled to Jocelyn, whom he seemed to have only just noticed, and his eyes widened in shock as he took in her appearance. The expression was fleeting, quickly replaced by the well-trained politeness of a hosting prince. But Jocelyn had seen it, and she wished the floor would open and swallow her up.
“You are indeed welcome, Princess Jocelyn,” said Prince Ormond formally. Even with the threat of the dragon over, his face retained its serious expression.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” said Jocelyn, attempting to hide her wince as she curtsied again. “I am pleased to be here.” Her power swirled from her alarmingly, and this time she did wince.
Before any of the royals could say another word, a middle-aged woman in a h
igh-necked dress of severe cut strode purposefully into the entranceway.
“Your Highness,” she said sternly. “You have arrived.”
Jocelyn had never thought she would be glad to see the grim-faced lady-in-waiting who had been assigned as her chaperone on this trip, but in the circumstances it was all she could do to prevent herself from falling into the woman’s arms. The older Kyonan might be severe, but her poise was admirable. No one would have suspected she saw anything amiss either in Jocelyn’s attire or the manner of her arrival as she swept the princess off to the suite long prepared for her. Jocelyn gladly allowed herself to be shepherded down the broad stone corridors, not even risking a glance back at Valoria’s crown prince.
Once they were alone, her chaperone was not quite so restrained, but Jocelyn didn’t begrudge the woman her scold. She knew she must have given them all a heart-stopping scare with her disappearance, and she was truly repentant. She endured the strictures in her habitual silence. She knew a moment of alarm when her burning cheeks almost betrayed her as the woman expounded on how fortunate she was that she had not run afoul of any men who might get the wrong impression of her, traveling about the kingdom in a peasant dress with only a dragon for escort.
More to the point, Jocelyn thought, she was extremely fortunate her chaperone had no idea of Kincaid’s existence. The very thought of what the woman would say if she knew about their time in Dragoncave, or even worse, their passionate kiss on Wyvern Islands, made her shudder internally.
Of course she hadn’t forgotten Kincaid. She had thought at first that he was probably still traveling back from the east, given he didn’t have the advantage of flight. But then she remembered with a jolt that she’d lost a week to unconsciousness. The thought that he might be there, in the city somewhere, made her heart swell and ache at the same time.
Legacy of the Curse Page 42