by Jade Lee
Still, she simply looked at him—and he at her—while all around them prisoners were set free. Guards grumbled, holding their swords at the ready, but they never made a move.
"Natiya," Kiril began, not knowing what to say or why. Merely that, after a week locked in this fetid prison, he wanted to say something beautiful.
"My dragon is not evil," she said, softly, her eyes never leaving his. "She... we are trying to do what's right." She looked about her, gesturing at the commotion behind them. "This could be a huge mistake, but I haven't got many options. I hope you understand that, and will give me—give us—a chance before you try to kill us."
"Did you mean what you said?" he asked. He hadn't intended to, but his words rushed out with a coarse burr. "Do you really...?" He couldn't even say the word.
"Love you?" she asked.
He nodded.
She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out. In the end she simply shrugged, her whisper more defeated than anything else. "What do you want from me?"
Before he could find some way to answer, to express his regret for his actions, Pentold interrupted. He limped forward, his eyes darting with suspicious intent between Sabina—still waiting further up the hallway—and Kiril, who stood almost on top of Natiya, despite their being separated by the bars of his cell.
"Did you receive my books?" he asked in a bare whisper, and Kiril started at the apparent non sequitur. Natiya, too, seemed thrown, and she twisted to frown at the poet. "I sent them through the castle librarian," he continued, pressing the cell keys into her hand. "They would have arrived a few hours ago."
Natiya shook her head. "I don't know. He was always sending me books."
Pentold touched her arm, gently drawing her away from Kiril. "Find them, Natiya. It's important."
"Why?"
Kiril saw the poet glance significantly behind him, subtly indicating the guards near Sabina, all of whom watched and listened with clear interest. They had been speaking in an undertone. Indeed, Kiril doubted that even Sabina with her excellent hearing could understand the words, but Natiya took the warning to heart.
She frowned at the soldiers and gestured them away. "What are you doing here? Go help the inmates find baths and see to their food."
The closest and burliest guard bowed with respect, but when he straightened he did not move. Instead, he smiled with false humility. "Apologies, my lady, but the Emperor ordered us to protect you with our very lives. Those other tasks"—he sneered when he said it—"have been given to new recruits."
"But I have no need for protection, sirrah," she said. "They are all gone." She gestured, indicating that the prisoners were all gone, and thus her reasons to fear.
Again the guard bowed, but Kiril recognized derision in the gesture. "Not all the prisoners, my lady. And even if the entire mountain were deserted, we would remain by your side. Your life is very important to the Emperor."
Natiya sighed. Kiril heard the sound distinctly, even though she was looking away from him. Then she turned back to Pentold. "I have done nothing today but buy a little time. Go, while you still can. Leave Ragona before the hatching."
The poet shook his head, grasping her hands and bringing them up to his lips to press fervent kisses along her fingers. "I will not leave you."
"You cannot help me, and it will hurt too much to see him catch you again. Do not make my work here for nothing." Then she leaned forward, and while Kiril clutched the nearby cell bars in irrational jealousy, he watched her press the tenderest of kisses to the poet's cheek. "Please, be safe. For me."
Kiril saw uncertainty in the way the poet would not look into her eyes as he tried to convince them both of a lie: "I can still help you. Even if I don't have influence, my father does—"
Natiya was not fooled. "That coin was forfeit the moment you were locked inside here. You cannot help me now." She lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Please, my old friend, do not make me beg. Go. Now."
To his credit, the poet wanted to argue. He obviously searched his brain for a way to help, but they all knew he had already played out his hand. And so, in the end he bowed his head. "I would have showered you with riches, Natiya," he whispered. Then, before anyone could say more, he left.
Kiril watched the man go, knowing the poet for a better man than he. The poet had given everything he was—honestly—in the hope that Natiya loved him. All Kiril had done was use her.
But now was not the time for self-recriminations or self-pity. He straightened his shoulders when he wanted to drop to his knees and faced Natiya with pride, though he wanted to kiss her feet and beg forgiveness. And he waited—like a man—for her decision.
Fortunately for his pride, she did not make him wait long. She stepped forward, unlocking his cell with quick twists of her wrists. "You should run too, Kiril. He will try to use you against me." She paused, looking into his eyes, silently pleading with him to understand. "I cannot let him do that. If he catches you, I cannot interfere. It would never end, and then I would have no power at all."
He paused, one hand holding the door of his cell open. "So you intend to stay. To..." He swallowed, furious with himself for struggling to voice the words when he had known it would happen. When he had, in fact, known it from the moment he first awoke to see Dag Racho holding Natiya. "You will join him. As his Queen."
"I hardly have a choice," she snapped, gesturing irritably at the guards. "He will not release me. So run, Kiril, and do not judge me before I have had a chance to make a difference."
He wanted to grab her, to take her with him and hide them until they could sort out their differences. He didn't truly think it was possible, but he wanted to try anyway, to find a quiet place to be with her outside of dragons and emperors and even Sabina, who was watching his every expression as if he were one of her accounting books. For a moment, Natiya caught his expression, matching his gaze for one, then two long breaths.
She felt the same way. She wanted the same thing. For the two of them.
He didn't know why the thought gave him such elation. It was impossible to start over, even if the situation were vastly different. And yet he lingered, wishing, hoping. The need to touch her burned hotter than dragon fire.
"Go, you fool!"
He could have resisted. She was not physically strong enough to force him to go anywhere, but he knew she was right, and so he left. He grabbed Sabina as he passed, knowing that they stood a greater chance of remaining out of the Emperor's clutches if they stuck together. But even as they hurried away from Dag Racho's cursed mountain, Kiril could not help wishing for what he could not have, and wondering at the fate of the woman he left behind.
Luckily, there was little time to think about that as he and Sabina hurried out of Dag Racho's mountain. The guards were offering baths and food, but neither he nor Sabina were tempted; they wanted out of the Emperor's influence as soon as possible. They had no money on them, so had to travel on foot. Fortunately Sabina knew a back entrance to a nearby bank—this was the capital city, after all; he would be surprised if she didn't know every banker and clerk within the city walls.
Less than an hour later, they had money and conveyance out of the city. Both knew it would be too dangerous to travel to their respective homes. They didn't even trust their friends right now, those few they had left. And so they could only rely on one another and the dubious anonymity of a closed carriage.
"D'greth, we smell," Sabina muttered as they wended their way through the clogged city corridors.
Kiril nodded, not trusting his voice or any part of his body right then. It had betrayed him too many times of late.
"So, what is the new plan?" she pressed.
He didn't speak, simply gazed at her dully, seeing only the gray outline of a lush, womanly figure. He barely noticed her ratty hair or filthy clothing. To him, she was simply Sabina, his friend and longtime companion, but also his mentor and his conscience. She had been there when he was first brought to court; quiet, withdrawn,
watching him with large dark eyes. He hadn't known then how much she did to protect him, but looking back, he knew she must have risked much, sacrificed a great deal just to keep him alive and sane those first few years.
"Do you remember the first time I went against your advice?" he suddenly asked.
She answered immediately. "The hunting trip. Two soldiers—dragon-bearers you called yourselves—just across the northern border."
"You told me not to go. That if I once acted as the Emperor's terror droog there would be no turning back. I would be stained forever."
She smiled, her teeth a soft gleam of white in the carriage's gray interior. "I never thought you could be so good at it. You were so sweet, so young." She laughed softly. "And a really bad swordsman."
"I learned."
She nodded. "Yes, you did."
"But you were right." He knew he had startled her, but she didn't speak. And in the darkness, he felt more able to confess. "It was brutal, what I saw. What I did." He took a deep breath, remembering the blood on his hands, the smell of death. "I have done much worse since then. Killed in both harder and easier ways. But it all started then when you told me not to go. But I said I was a man and that men in Ragona were soldiers."
"You were right to go. You became the greatest dragon-hunter ever, and an even better man. You have exceeded everything we could have hoped for." She leaned forward, touching his leg, her hand a cool caress on his overheated body.
He shook his head, wondering exactly what he was trying to say. "I became what Dag Racho told me to become. I think he knew he had to turn my energies to his ends, bend my hate to his will, or I would forever be attacking him, trying to kill him rather than for him."
Sabina squeezed his knee. "And now you will do both." She sighed as she leaned back. "The question is, how?"
He shook his head, wishing he had something to do with his fingers. His hands felt empty without some strips of loga to shape. "You don't understand, Sabina. You were right. I should not have become a fighter. I'm... not suited to it."
He felt her study him but could not see her expression. Still, he knew her moods, felt the tension build within the dark carriage even before she spoke, her voice filled with venom. "It is the Emperor's bitch, isn't it? She says some lies about love, and you cannot think beyond your prock. Dammit, Kiril, she is a dragon's pawn! Evil—"
"We don't know that! We know only what we have been told."
"Were you told what happened to Jaseen?" she spat. "Were you told that he was kind and full of laughter before the beast took him over? Were you told what he did to me?"
"No!" he snapped, but then he moderated his tone, letting his doubts color his voice. "But... what if we're wrong? What if it is the man who shapes the dragon?"
"By all accounts, Dag Racho was a gentle soul before he was taken over. Look at him now," Sabina said.
Kiril all but laughed. "We cannot trust Racho's accounts of anything. Of course he would paint himself a sweet child. He thinks of himself as a kind Emperor."
Sabina glared at him. He could not see her in the darkness, but he knew she was furious. It hurt to feel her disappointment in him, but he could not change that. Natiya had sown doubts in his mind, and he could not proceed until he resolved them.
"What are you saying, Kiril? Are you saying that you think Racho and his bitch—"
"Her name is Natiya."
"I don't care if she's the goddess Amia, the dragon will turn her evil. And it is your job—indeed, it is your sworn oath to me—to kill her and Racho both. Do you forswear that oath?"
He looked away, caught by this life he had made.
"Do you?" she pressed, her voice harder. "Don't forget our wager, Kiril. It is not just a vow. If you forswear, then I receive everything. You will be left penniless—and you are already friendless."
He swallowed. "You would destroy me?"
There was no softening in her attitude. "You would destroy yourself."
"What if we are wrong, Sabina?"
"We are not—"
He did not let her finish but pushed on, wishing he could make her understand. "What if the dragons only give strength and power? Then the man shapes that power."
"You mean, woman."
"Fine," he said, irritated. "Man or woman. What if Natiya is good? She could be our greatest ally."
"She has allied herself with Dag Racho."
"She didn't in the jail. She negotiated for our release."
He heard a noise on the cushions of the carriage seat as Sabina, in her frustration, dug her nails into the fabric. But nothing in her voice betrayed anger, and she used flat, implacable logic. "Very well, Kiril. We will play this game even though we both know it is not true. Let us pretend that Natiya is a sweet and special virgin—"
"We need not be idiots," he snapped. She had been a virgin. But he had changed that.
"So, you slept with her. Damn, Kiril, you are such a fool."
He wasn't going to dignify that with an answer. But his face heated in embarrassment nonetheless. Sabina waited for a while, clearly hoping to goad him into revealing his actions at the clutching cave, but he would not budge. In the end she returned to her original tack.
"Very well. We assume she is a smart girl who has had a hard life. We can even admire her for taking matters into her own hands by incubating an egg, on her own, and keeping it secret for all these years. That indicates some measure of inner strength and intelligence."
He nodded. That was indeed a good characterization of Natiya.
"Has she told you why she did this? What is her goal?"
"She said she wanted revenge on the Emperor because he killed her family."
"And then?"
Kiril shrugged. "I don't know. She read a lot and had ideas about judges and a code of law, but she said nothing about ruling the kingdom." Even to him, that sounded ridiculous. No one gave up that kind of power when it was handed to them. And to have the only dragon in Ragona: that was just too much for anyone to lead a normal life, whether they wanted to or not. Where would she and the dragon live? Natiya had no personal wealth to buy cattle for it to eat, and no skills to procure such necessary wealth. She would be forced to drastic measures.
"We should help her," he said, desperately trying to convince himself. "Together we have enough honest wealth to maintain her dragon, and we can trade that to set up a peaceful rule."
Sabina nodded. "That would only work if she wants peace—and only if she would follow our leadership." Her tone was slightly mocking. "Does she seem amenable to things you say? Will she trust your word?" Sabina already knew the answer and was forcing him to say it aloud.
"I have already lied to her," Kiril admitted, "even created an elaborate ruse pretending to break her out of the Dabu'ut prison. She will not trust anything I say."
"And I tried to kill her in her bath. We are hardly trustworthy—even if she were."
Kiril flinched at the image of the two women in combat. He had learned earlier the reason for Sabina's incarceration, and yet he experienced real pain at the thought of the two women fighting.
"No," he said softly, because he knew she would not continue until he acknowledged the truth. "Natiya will not take direction from us. But that does not mean she will not be a good ruler. There are others who will help her. The poet, for one."
"Who is halfway to Pajora by now." Kiril didn't answer, and Sabina folded her arms across her chest. "Very well. She will not be guided by us, but there could be others. Assuming, once again, that she wants peace, that she wants what is best for Ragona." She laughed. "Let us examine that assumption."
He wanted to say no, to stop the conversation immediately. But he knew that such a reaction was childish. They were debating the future of tens of thousands of people. If he had the power to affect this country for the good, it was his obligation to do so, no matter what his personal feelings. Wasn't that how he'd tried to live his life?
"She is a good woman," he stated firmly. He believed tha
t.
"Yes, yes. We started this discussion with that assumption," Sabina snapped, her voice implacable. "That she wants only to rid the world of an evil tyrant."
Kiril nodded.
"And yet... the first thing she asks for is power."
Kiril shifted uncomfortably, seeing where this was headed. "She was negotiating for our freedom."
"No, Kiril. She was negotiating for power."
"For the ability to make the laws, to imprison or free people justly." He said the words, but he did not know for sure if they were true. He only hoped.
"That does not sound like a woman preparing to overthrow an evil tyrant. That sounds like someone maneuvering to get more power within the existing government."
Kiril looked away. "She doesn't have many options," he said softly. "Perhaps she is just making the best of a bad situation."
Sabina released a bitter laugh. "I have no doubt of that. From the very beginning, she has shown herself to be an amateur. No plans for her hatching. No resources for after the creature was born. No training to fight the Emperor when the time came—if that was truly what she intended. Nothing but blind faith. Tell me, please, that I am wrong. I would have more trust in you and her if you tell me she made provisions for even one of these things."
Kiril could not.
"I thought not," Sabina said. "She is crafty, I will give you that. And resourceful. But she is still an amateur in this game, Kiril. You know that as I well as I do."
"I know," he said, hating the truth as passionately as he had once hated the Emperor.
"And what happens to amateurs?" Sabina pressed. "When they go against the Emperor, what happens to the young, the naive and the innocent?"
Kiril knew the answer. They both knew, but she was making him say it aloud. "They die. They fail and they die."
"Which will land us once more back where we started: with one megalomaniac tyrant and no way to kill him."
Kiril nodded. Sabina was right.
"So, we cannot leave this up to Natiya. We must use this opportunity—this Golden Queen—to our advantage rather than to the Emperor's." She leaned forward, and Kiril recognized determination in both her tone and her body. "The question is how—how do we use Natiya to our own ends?"