He caught my hand between his. Though his skin was dry and papery, his grasp was as strong as that of a man in his prime.
“It is not that simple, my lady. But I cannot explain all that you need to know. You must visit the Oracle. She will tell you of the prophecy and the grave duty that has fallen on your shoulders.”
“Prophecy?”
“You would have learned of it many years from now, had the gods granted your father a long life. The day after your coronation, as all our rulers have for the last millennium.” He sighed heavily. “All our sovereigns have learned the terrible knowledge, taken the secret to their grave. But your young shoulders must bear the ultimate burden.”
Prophecy? Oracle? I stared at the old man. Had grief over my father’s death unhinged his mind? There were no Oracles. They were a myth, a legend of the past, like shape-shifters and ogres, and the old belief about how people became feeble-minded. The one where evil spirits entered the bodies of hapless infants as they slumbered in their cribs and stole their minds and souls, leaving only the shell behind.
I chose my words carefully. Nodded gravely, as though I agreed with this insanity. “Perhaps you could describe the criminal to me. Then I’ll be able to steer clear of him if our paths cross on my way to see the uh... the Oracle.”
His shrewd black eyes bored into mine. “There’s no need to humor me. I may be middle-aged, but I haven’t begun losing my mind,” he replied tartly.
Middle-aged? I bit back a retort. It was the least harmful of the delusions he seemed to be suffering from.
“You will meet the Oracle soon enough. She will tell you of the great evil that has slumbered for a thousand years. The prophecy that says it will awaken one day to destroy the world of the Seven Stars.”
His next words sent a chill through my bones.
“You needn’t worry about crossing paths with your father’s murderer. No human hand was raised against him. He was struck down by an evil spell woven by a practitioner of necromancy. The blackest of magic. We do not need to track down your father’s killer, my lady. As I told you, I already know his identity.
“It was the Lord of Darkness.”
Chapter Two
Six years later
Melisandre
“Ooof!”
I crumpled to the ground, struggling to take in a breath, my mouth flapping open and shut like a fish hauled out of the water.
“My lady! Forgive me.”
Curled in a ball with both hands wrapped around my middle, I couldn’t draw enough air in to respond.
“You oaf! You careless ass! Forgive my language, my lady.” The last words were addressed to me. Then Pieter, captain of the Royal Guard, went back to berating the poor lad assigned to sparring practice with me today. “Are you daft, Henry? You know you’re to control your force when you spar with her, especially when striking at the solar plexus.”
To prove his point, Pieter whirled his bowstaff and jabbed the tip of it into Henry’s midsection, the move so sudden the younger man had no time to block it. At the last second, Pieter stopped with the tip digging only an inch into Henry’s belly. “That’s how it’s done,” he declared scornfully then tossed the staff aside to help me up.
“It…it’s all right, Pieter,” I managed to gasp. I waved his hands away and stubbornly struggled to my feet, hunched over and cradling my stomach. “He only…knocked the wind…out of me.”
Only? Hah. I’d never felt such pain. Radiating through my body, taking me to my knees. Driving the air out of my lungs with a whoosh, then robbing me of the ability to draw it back in for what seemed like forever. I shuddered to think how excruciating it must be to take the thrust of a sword in one’s belly. Where did wounded warriors find the courage to go back into battle?
Pride forced me to square my shoulders and stand upright, though every breath sent a stabbing pain through me. I wondered whether he’d cracked a rib then dismissed the thought. I was being a baby. The pain would ease eventually – I hoped.
I had something more important on my mind at the moment. “Did you tell Henry…” I stopped, took a few shallow breaths. “Did I hear you’ve been instructing the guards to pull their punches when they spar with me?”
“No, my lady!”
His protest was a bit too earnest. I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yes, my lady. But not enough to keep you from learning how to block and parry. Only to keep from hurting you.” Pieter had the grace to look ashamed.
I hobbled over and sank down onto the stump of a log at the edge of the clearing where we trained. A stone’s throw from the palace walls, the ground there was uneven enough to offer practice in keeping one’s balance, yet soft enough to provide a bit of cushioning when I was knocked off my feet.
I thought I was learning to fight. And all this time they’d been going easy on me. I was torn. Insulted to learn I wasn’t as skilled as I looked, yet relieved. I’d taken my share of falls, gotten nasty bruises that turned frightening shades of purple. Had they fought me in earnest, I realized, I’d have endured far more agonizing blows.
“Come here, Pieter.”
He came toward me. Bowed his head. “I apologize, my lady.”
“It’s all right, Pieter. I’m not angry with you,” I said gently. “But you need to understand something. I’m not doing this as a lark. There will come a time…” I stopped. I mustn’t reveal too much “You and the other members of the Royal Guard may not always be at my side. There might come a time when I need to really fight. Thinking I can defend myself or attack an enemy based on mock sparring matches could get me killed.”
“I pray you will never be forced to fight an enemy yourself, my lady. Ten thousand soldiers of the realm are ready to be called into battle at a moment’s notice. And the Royal Guards would willingly give their lives to keep you from harm. I myself would kill with my bare hands anyone who dared to lay a finger on you.”
I took a deep breath. Cleared my head of the violent, bloody images the Oracle had implanted there. “I believe you, Pieter,” I replied gently.
The captain of my Royal Guard had been in love with me for years. I knew it. Not intuitively, as I did many other things I have no way of knowing, but as a woman knows when a man is in love with her. Pieter was handsome. He was strong, yet kindhearted. I respected and admired him. Cared about him. In another life, another world, we might have become lovers. But he accepted that he could never have me. He understood duty and honor, both his own and mine, and he would never overstep the boundaries society had placed between us.
“Please, Pieter, humor me in this. I want you to quit thinking of me as your queen. Pretend I’m a cocky young recruit. Train me as you would train him. Show me how a real soldier fights. Let me take the blows, so I have no doubt I can be brought to my knees and still find the strength to rise and fight on.” I stood. Put my hand on his shoulder. “Will you do that for me, Pieter? Will you make me a warrior?”
The next day, my training began in earnest. Hand-to-hand combat, Tridacian wrangling, advanced bowstaff. And finally, the sword. I leaned to parry, to thrust. To lift with the muscles in my upper back when blocking a strike. To plant my feet then surge with the power of the earth behind me. I developed muscle and speed and stamina. And with every lesson, every blow I took, I gained the strength to face my fate.
I welcomed the training. Learning how to defend myself, how to attack and disarm an opponent, required every ounce of my concentration. During those precious hours, I was able to clear my mind. I couldn’t dwell on the prophecies of the Oracle when a soldier was coming at me with his bowstaff whirling, threatening to sweep my legs out from under me then knock me in the head while I was down.
Every other moment of the day, her dire warnings and cryptic verses replayed themselves in my head, like one of those annoying songs that sticks in your mind. Playing in an endless loop just below your conscious thoughts until it becomes a mental leech sucking away your sanity
.
How could I forget? Though I tried to dismiss them as the ravings of a madwoman, I knew they were true. I knew. The moment the Oracle began to speak, I recognized the truth of her words in the depths of my soul.
* * *
I still remember every moment of my journey to the temple.
We left the morning after my coronation. Once again, Antonius dragged me from my bed, grousing and complaining. I had a horrible headache, probably from supporting the weight of that damned crown all day, and I was exhausted from the hours of ceremonial duties I’d had to perform.
Coronation Day is a time of celebration for the common folk. A day away from the usual grind. There’s a royal parade in the street then partying in the pubs. Toasting the new monarch’s health with round after round of mead and ale. But for the new ruler, it rips away the bandage over grief, a stark reminder he or she is there only because a loved one is dead. And any heir to the throne grows up schooled in the traditions and responsibilities of ruling. Knowing he or she has lost forever the ability to live any semblance of a normal life doubles the grief.
So, I was in a terrible mood. And the journey didn’t improve it.
We set out early in the morning. The shops were still shuttered, the streets covered with litter. The carriage wheels ran over my likeness on banners that had fluttered to the ground or been torn down by jubilant crowds. I took that as a bad omen. Any celebration that includes citizens cheering and singing while stomping on your face doesn’t bode well.
We headed through the silent streets at a fast clip, and soon left the city behind.
I stuck my head out the window and breathed deep. It was still early enough that the scent of moonflowers lingered in the air, though their buds were once again tightly furled. The journey itself was an adventure. On any other day, I’d have welcomed it. Exclaimed in wonder at the vistas laid out before me, the beauty of my kingdom. The World of the Seven Stars had everything – vast fertile plains stretching off into the distance, a ragged dark range of mountains on the horizon blocking us from the desert beyond. Though I couldn’t see it, the ocean lay to our right, with a tropical jungle on its southern shores.
This morning, a mist lay over the fields. The heat of the sun would soon lift it, but for now it covered everything in a warm, damp blanket. I closed my eyes and breathed, emptying my mind.
The fresh air eventually restored my wits enough to care about our destination, and I pulled my head in. “Where are we going, Antonius? I’ve been everywhere in the kingdom, but I’ve never seen or heard about an Oracle in a temple.”
He’d been staring off into space, lost in thought. “To Mt. Jarazal,” he replied automatically. Then his eyes focused on me. “So you’ve been everywhere in the kingdom, have you?” His voice held more than a trace of sarcasm.
“You know I have. You were usually with us,” I replied tartly. Was Antonius suffering from memory loss?
I softened my tone. Perhaps it was to be expected at his age. “If you recall, Papa began taking me along on his journeys when I was just a child. We visited the lords of every realm once a year. My father made a point of checking on the welfare of his citizens on a regular basis. I plan to do the same,” I reminded him. “But I’ve never seen or heard of Mt. Jarazal.”
“There’s a great deal you’ve never seen or heard of,” he replied cryptically.
I wasn’t about to be sidetracked by his crankiness. “Where is this mountain?”
He waved vaguely to the jagged dark peaks on the horizon. “There.”
The mountain range that curved protectively around the kingdom defined our world. Beyond lay a vast desert, inhabited only by snakes and scorpions. Father told me no one ever ventured there and lived to tell about it.
Even if some foolhardy soul wanted to explore the desert, the mountains were a formidable barrier. On the northern end, the peaks were covered with snow year-round. To the south lay a dormant volcanic crater.
We headed south.
The trip took three days. Antonius had alerted no one of our journey, so unlike on my other trips, we weren’t hosted by local gentry at the end of each day. We traveled in a plain carriage without the royal insignia painted on the doors. He insisted I wear frocks in drab shades of gray and navy blue, and a cloak with a hood to draw around my face when we were among other people. There were no feasts in my honor. At night, we stayed in wayfarer’s inns, with Antonius taking on the role of my grandfather. He cautioned me about speaking as little as possible to those we met along the way.
“Why such secrecy?”
“Melisandre, the Lord of Darkness has risen. He has taken down your father, and you are his only heir. His followers could be anywhere. No one can know the new queen is in their midst. You’ll understand when you meet the Oracle.”
Antonius busied himself during the journey consulting ancient scrolls he pulled from a wooden trunk then scribbling notes to himself, muttering all the while. Left to my own devices, I passed the hours thinking about my father. Remembering the wonderful times we’d had together as I fingered the locket on a gold chain around my neck. Father had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday. It held miniature portraits of him and my mother, likenesses of them on their wedding day.
Mother died when I was five. My memory of her was hazy. I’d seen official portraits of both her and my father, but I treasured the locket because the artist had caught something in both their expressions that I never saw in the ones hanging on display in the palace. He painted them so when the locket was open, they gazed toward each other. Looking tender and young and so much in love. My parents were blessed. Father didn’t have to choose a bride to unite warring factions of his kingdom or bring wealth to his coffers. He was free to follow his heart.
I wasn’t naïve enough to think I’d have the luxury of doing the same. My father was a strong man and a powerful sovereign. But he was dead. As a young female, I knew I’d have power-hungry lords wanting to challenge my claim to the throne. If war broke out, I might be forced to make an alliance with one of them to keep peace in the kingdom. Take him to rule beside me. But I’d be damned if I’d go down that path unless it was absolutely necessary to spare innocents from being slaughtered.
Still, any marriage I entered into would most likely be based on politics rather than passion. I might never have the experience of making love with someone who sent my heart soaring. Made my pulse race and my pussy ache to be filled, like the dragon lord of my dreams did. I’d be lucky to end up with a mate who was even tempered and reasonably gentle, both in and out of bed.
The carriage headed steadily south, and the temperature rose. By the end of the second day, I put aside the heavy cloak, replacing it with a light shawl I could drape over my head and around my face whenever we came near other people.
The chances of anyone recognizing me from the likenesses strewn all over the capital were slim. People in this part of the kingdom didn’t often venture to the north unless they had business there. Crops to sell or goods to trade. And no one who’d been at the coronation ceremonies would expect their new queen to be traveling in such modest circumstances, so far from the palace.
On day three, we left the well-traveled road and headed up into the mountains on a narrower track. The carriage swayed from side to side through the ruts. Antonius was forced to put aside his scrolls and use both hands to hang onto the sides of the carriage or risk pitching off the seat.
I took the opportunity to pump him for information.
“Have you seen the Oracle?”
He nodded. “Yes, my lady, I have.”
“What is she like?”
He gave me a sharp glance. “What makes you think the Oracle is female?”
I shrugged. “In the old myths, it’s always a woman.”
He relaxed. “You’re right. The Oracle is female. Age-old, yet ageless. She is very wise, but you may find her message a bit cryptic. That’s why I’ve been reading the old scrolls. Studying
the past prophecies. Later, when you tell me what she had to say, I can help you interpret it.”
“You mean you’re not going to be there when I meet her?”
“I cannot be in her presence when she recites the Prophecy of Doom. Her message is for the ruler of the World of the Seven Stars. For your ears and yours alone.”
The prophecy of doom? His words sent a shiver of foreboding down my spine. I hadn’t been afraid until that moment.
I’d looked on this journey as a waste of time, humoring the eccentric notions of an old man. I accompanied him out of a sense of obligation. Antonius had devoted his life to serving my father and his father before him. I figured we’d be going to some backward village high in the hills where I’d meet an abbess as ancient as the stones of the shrine where she worshipped. A dried-up old virgin who spent her life muttering prayers and curses over a so-called sacred object. An odd-shaped rock, perhaps, or a crystal ball.
As we climbed higher, I saw fewer villages perched on the slopes of the mountain. Then all signs of human habitation disappeared completely. The landscape took on a grim, yet strangely familiar appearance. Towering peaks blocked the light of day, throwing everything around me into a shadowy twilight. Jagged rocks pierced the ground, like giant stakes driven deep into its heart. It took a while before I made the connection, since in the past I’d only seen this place at night. In my dreams.
The place where a magnificent, naked man walked into a river of fire – and emerged a dragon.
Chapter Three
Drayke
She was near. I could feel it. My dragon heart beat faster.
I’d seen her hiding behind a huge boulder a few times over the years, a dreamlike figure without substance. She watched my transformation with wide-eyed horror. I recognized her by her mane of golden hair shot through with streaks as red as the flames I strode into. Besides, the Oracle had spoken of her to me so often, I felt as if I knew her. Tonight I’d see her in person. Breathe in her scent. Touch her.
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