by R. K. Ryals
I thought of the carving on his bedroom door, thought of the strands of wheat surrounding the full moon. There was definitely much more to him than met the eye, something more than what we knew about him. After all, we’d both been born under a Harvest Moon.
Lochlen’s eyes narrowed. “We have a war to fight. It’s time we concentrate more on how to fight it. The dragons are hiding your people. We train, we watch the prince marry, and we march. We do it now or we lose our chance.”
I let my head fall against his chest again, one hand lifting to settle in Oran’s fur. Lochlen’s heartbeat was different than a human heart. It had a different rhythm; deeper, stronger. It chased away the silence. It chanted things, dark and light things I would never understand.
I’d been turned away from Cadeyrn’s door by a princess. I had enemies within the palace. The prince had enemies. The rebels had enemies. It was false safety we had here. The rebels needed leverage. Everywhere there were spies. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe Raemon didn’t have people within the palace’s walls.
“We’re no safer here than we were in Medeisia,” I mumbled.
Lochlen held me away from him, his narrow face strong and resolved before he moved away. He paused at the door.
“No, we are not. Regardless, a prince once looked at a group of rebels in a forest and told them that the reason we would win this war was because we had something no one else did. We had the phoenix. A scribe with the powers of a mage.” Lochlen opened the door, his back to me. “You are seventeen turns today. Did you think it would be forgotten?”
With that, he shut the door.
Oran jumped from the bed and nuzzled my hand with his cold nose, snuffling. “The armoire, Phoenix.” I glanced down at him, and he growled, “Go.”
I went, my fingers closing on the wood before pulling it open. I hadn’t told anyone it was my birthday, but it was easy to forget that Lochlen had known my mother, had been privy to my birth.
There within lay two parcels wrapped in bright cloth, one large and one small. Pulling them free, I undid the ribbon on the larger. What fell into my hands made me step back. It was a beautiful green tunic and amber breeches made out of the same strange material I’d often seen on Lochlen.
“Dragon skin,” Oran said. “The skin found under a dragon’s scales. It’s an honor, Phoenix. No human has ever been offered clothes made from dragon skin. None.”
I stared at them, holding them out reverently. It was surprisingly soft material, but they looked form fitting, and the tunic wasn’t long. “It isn’t proper.”
Oran snorted. “And you care about proper?”
My lips curled in amusement. “Not much these days, I’m afraid.”
The wolf padded across the room. “Now the second gift.”
Lifting the parcel, I perused the blue fabric that covered it. Across the front, there was a falcon, its wings spread in flight.
My fingers trembled as I pulled the navy satin ribbon holding it closed free. A chain and pendant fell into my hand, a silver pendant. It was Henderonian, the silver forming two knots that circled a small clear orb. Inside the orb was a tiny lock of black hair.
I lifted the necklace and pulled it over my neck, my face hot with tears. I knew before I even read the note within the parcel who it was from. A gift, the note said, that will remind you why you fight.
I clutched the pendant. I knew that hair. It was Kye’s. The prince of Sadeemia wore a similar pendant, only it held three intricate knots, no hair.
Glancing down at Oran, I breathed, “We need more spies.”
The only answer I got was a growl.
Chapter 6
Another week passed, and I never saw the prince. I donned the clothes made of dragon hide, a brown cloak tied around my neck, and the silver pendant resting against my skin beneath the clothes. Stares followed me through the palace, rage-filled comments made by the nobility, but I ignored them. I was not standing on formality. I was suited up for war; it made training with Cadeyrn’s warriors easier.
The pigeons had returned from Greemallia and Henderonia thinner than when they had left. They had flown fast and sure, carrying small glass tubes with replies from the kings. The double wedding was to proceed and quickly. The tubes wouldn’t hold documents, but there were hasty official contractual words etched in the parchment that solidified the alliances. Both kings would be making separate trips to Sadeemia to sign the final official documents for the scribes. It wouldn’t do to have two kings away from their throne at the same time.
“I never understood all the pomp and circumstance the nobility put into marriage,” Maeve groused as we stood upon the castle’s ramparts, our eyes on the gathering festivities below.
“It’s a show for the people,” I replied, my feet taking me down the stone walkway. She followed with Oran at her side. Maeve had finally taken a liking to the animal.
“This is crazy, you know,” Maeve grumbled.
I glanced behind me and grinned. “Only because you won’t be able to hear them.”
She said something under her breath I didn’t catch.
Oran chuckled, “I would be offended if I didn’t know I intimidated her.”
I threw him a look before stopping at a gaping doorway in the rampart wall. Maeve peered over her shoulder, her breathing rushed. We’d waited until the day before the wedding to attempt sneaking away from the guards because they watched us too closely. However, today their eyes strayed to the princesses, the royals’ safety their main concern.
“I hate the dark,” Maeve complained as we ducked through the entrance.
Letting Oran take the lead, I clutched his fur as we descended a long, winding stone staircase into the bowels of the palace. I’d never been to this part of the castle, but Lochlen had been adamant that we go, adamant that it was a safe place for our meeting, unused as it was by royalty.
“I’ve only smelled Cadeyrn and a few of his men down there,” Lochlen had said.
I didn’t have time to wonder why the prince met with warriors here. I trusted Cadeyrn. Maybe it was foolish, but he’d earned it. I’d learned fast that trust was something you didn’t give away lightly. I trusted few.
“She comes!”
The shout was loud, and I winced. Maeve didn’t flinch.
“She comes!” the shout came again.
I paused near the bottom of the staircase. “I hear you,” I called. “Please, not so loud.” What sounded like hundreds of feet shuffled, clicked, padded, and slid across the floor.
Maeve’s hand went to my cloak, her fingers desperate. “No snakes. Please no snakes.”
Hiding my amusement, I whispered, “A strong warrior woman like you afraid of a cold blooded animal?”
Maeve spat, “I’m deuced terrified. Lochlen is lucky he can speak in draconic form or I would’ve already found a way to run him through with a sword.”
I grinned. “It doesn’t hurt that every time he shifts, he’s momentarily naked, right?”
Oran laughed in front of me, his fur shaking with his amusement. Maeve’s fingers dug painfully into my back.
“Our queen!” tiny voices shouted.
Flame suddenly exploded along the walls, and we ducked, our hands going over our heads as torches along the sides of the cavernous chamber lit abruptly.
“It’s good to know my human form is so pleasing,” a voice teased.
Sparing a glance, I ran hasty fingers through my curls, checking for singed ends. “Hair!” I reminded him. “Really?”
Lochlen’s reptilian eyes gleamed, his chuckle echoing through the round room. “Dragons don’t need hair to be attractive.”
I glared at him in the crackling light of the torches. Maeve shrieked, her body pushed up against my back.
Surrounding us was a room full of mice, roaches, snakes, a few bored looking cats, a funny looking hairless dog, pigeons, two seagulls, and a gaggle of chickens. The mice and the roaches reminded me too much of the dungeons in Medeisia, and I swallowed hard
to keep from avoiding their stares. It wasn’t their fault they reminded me of death and blood. What the mice and roaches in Medeisia had done, they’d done because I’d ordered it.
“Our queen,” the animals and insects called out.
The ones who were able to bow went to the floor, their beady eyes lifting to my face.
I nodded back at them. “Hello, friends.”
One of the cats jumped to the floor from a crevice in the wall, yowling at a snake while eyeing a mouse hungrily. Finally, it climbed into a fissure closer to where I stood.
“I am Korrine,” the cat purred. She was a pretty cat, her shining calico coat full and glossy. She eyed me cautiously. “I have nothing against you, my Queen, but I’m a palace cat. My life here is good. The dragon says we are supposed to spy for you. What happens if the humans discover this?”
I approached her. “I will never reveal my sources, but I can’t promise you they won’t figure it out.”
The cat sulked, her claws pulling across her stone seat. “I can’t risk it.”
Another cat jumped up opposite Korrine. This one was black; part of its hair missing in tufts, its ribs showing through its side. “Not all of us are so pampered, my Queen. I would rather die in service to my kind than die from starvation.”
My heart filled with pity, and I reached for the cat. It hissed at first, its fear palpable.
“I’ll not harm you,” I soothed. “Your name, cat?”
“Karma,” she answered, settling down carefully on her ledge, her skin rigid to the touch when I stroked her.
“I’ll make sure you’re fed, Karma,” I promised.
The mice around me scoffed. “Not us, our queen! Only if it isn’t us!”
I grinned. “First rule. No one is allowed to eat anyone else in this room. The ones who are here were brave enough to come to my summons. You’ll be awarded for your courage. I will not see you eaten or killed by your allies.”
Karma bared her teeth. “So the mice who did not show up are still fair game?” she asked.
As much as I hated to, I nodded. She purred.
A mouse jumped onto my boot, followed by a slithering garden snake. Maeve trembled against me.
“I’m Thomas,” the mouse greeted, his small chest puffed out. “My friends and I will not betray you.”
“The ssssnakes around the palace are in agreement,” the serpent responded.
Leaning down, I gently cupped the mouse before running a finger down the snake’s cool skin. Roaches circled me, and I had to fight back my uneasiness to smile at them. I may be a beacon of hope for all creatures belonging to Silveet, but bugs still made me squeamish.
“I need all of you,” I announced. “Now more than ever. There is war brewing, and there are traitors in our midst.”
The chickens clucked worriedly, the seagulls made bad jokes, and the hairless dog yipped. Oran glanced at him in disgust.
I threw Oran a look before my gaze slid to Korrine. “These traitors could be more of a risk to your place in the palace than I am.”
The cat sniffed, her nose lifting. “We shall see,” she said.
It was enough. I glanced at Lochlen, and he nodded.
I stood. “Go, and come to me whenever you feel it necessary. Find a way. I will always be receptive no matter where I am or what I am doing.”
The animals converged; the roaches and mice skittering across my feet, the snakes circling my ankles, the pigeons flying, the chickens pecking at the ground in front of me, the dog and Karma rubbing themselves against my legs before departing. It was their way of showing respect to their queen, and I let them. Because in the end, no matter how I felt about any of them, how squeamish I was, or how uncomfortable I was in my position, these creatures were mine. They were my spies, my friends, and my family.
Maeve finally relaxed against me. “We’re a sorry army,” she complained. “What use are animals against people?”
There was a loud hiss, and the sound of claws against rock as Korrine jumped to the stone floor, her eyes yellow in the glow from the torches. “I will serve you, my Queen,” the cat said. “If only to prove the foolish girl with you wrong.”
Her tail lifted as she sauntered away, her mumbling voice echoing against the stone, “What use are animals against humans, my arse!”
Lochlen’s gaze met mine, and I shrugged. “It’s a start,” I said.
He winked. “They will prove an invaluable asset.”
There were shouts from the ramparts above. Our backs went to the stone wall, the torches suddenly extinguished by one large fanning breath from Lochlen.
“I think we’ve been discovered missing,” Maeve mumbled.
Oran’s paws scrambled over stone. “Come,” he commanded.
Grabbing Maeve’s hand, I searched the darkness with my fingers, Oran’s fur brushing my palm as he guided us. Lochlen vanished. I’d come to ignore the way the dragon could sneak in and out of situations without being noticed, gliding into dark corners before disappearing.
“He could look like a god naked, and I’d still want to run him through right now,” Maeve fumed.
I grinned. “He isn’t one for following wolves.”
Oran snorted. “He isn’t one for following anyone. You’ve a knack for surrounding yourself with independent males, Phoenix.”
There wasn’t time to ponder his comment. Oran led us through dank tunnels, the stone floor wet and slippery beneath our boots, the sound of dripping water loud in the corridors. There was more slithering in the darkness followed by the noisy squeak of scurrying mice.
Maeve tensed. “By the gods,” she cursed.
The tunnel suddenly narrowed, ending at a flat wall, and Oran pushed against it. I followed suit, my fingers splayed over the stone. Maeve joined us.
“This wall doesn’t feel right,” she panted.
I dug my fingers into the rock, my nails burrowing into soft silt. “Because it isn’t really stone,” I responded.
“It’s a concealed door,” Oran revealed. “It opens into Prince Cadeyrn’s bedroom.”
I glanced down at him in the darkness just as the door fell inward, causing each of us to tumble into Cadeyrn’s chamber, into the paneled part of his room holding the bed I’d once slept in. The panel stood open now, the blue eyes of a prince staring down at us.
“By Igneet,” Maeve breathed. “He’s naked.”
Cadeyrn’s face remained impassive as he reached for a red dressing gown. He pulled it slowly across his shoulders and belted it, his movements unhurried. “There’s a reason, I hope, for your intrusion.”
My words were lost to humiliation. Maeve squeaked. Oran butted me in the stomach with his head, and I pushed myself off of the floor before helping Maeve to her feet.
“I think we may be needed in the hall,” I answered, my feet slowly finding their way to his bedroom door, Maeve on my heels.
Oran huffed, “Females.”
I kneed him in the snout, and he growled.
I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost certain I heard laughter within Cadeyrn’s chamber as we exited. It sounded good, his laugh.
Chapter 7
“I’m guessing you had a good reason for entering my room earlier through a door no one is supposed to know about?”
The castle ballroom was full of people, a colorful parade of dresses and tunics. The outfits were an eclectic mix of three cultures trying to exist as one, fake smiles and painted faces blurring as they moved. There were a lot of different dances, some of them fast and some of them slow. I didn’t know any of them.
I couldn’t see the prince. My back was to him, the hood of my cloak pulled up to hide my short hair and scandalous attire. The royals had learned their lesson from the last ball. The doors leading to the gardens remained closed, but I hadn’t forgotten the terror and the deaths. I hadn’t forgotten the threat Raemon posed.
“You’ve never had dragons at the palace, Your Majesty,” I answered, my lips twitching. “They have the uncanny ability of f
inding small, dank places.”
I caught a quick glimpse of a golden goblet with rubies lining the rim. A strong hand held it, swirling the contents before depositing it on a passing tray, untasted. I had the uncomfortable feeling that someone was going to die tonight, all in the name of Prince Cadeyrn. I didn’t know how he lived with it.
His laughter from earlier flitted through my mind. It was gone now, replaced by his usual sultry expression and alert gaze. I missed the laughter. It had been an easy sound, at odds with the man behind me.
It was the laughter that made me smile. “I have a sneaking suspicion you knew we were there,” I muttered.
It made sense. The prince was always on guard, his sword at the ready. It bothered me that I’d known nothing of a concealed door the prince, Lochlen, and Oran all seemed more than aware of.
“Secrets are often best kept between few,” the prince answered.
A loud cry went up in front of the hall. Goblets rose into the air, a room full of eyes sliding to the back of the ballroom. The prince moved around me, his frame shielding me from view. Inclining his head, he marched toward the front of the atrium, his steps steady and sure. There was never any doubt in Cadeyrn’s movements. Only confidence. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak, it carried weight.
At the front of the hall, the king stood, his goblet held high. “Tonight, we celebrate not one but two unions, the joining of my son to two stunning women, the princess of Greemallia and the princess of Henderonia. With respect to his late wife, His Royal Majesty, Prince Cadeyrn Forsen Bernhart has asked to accept the gods of the realm of Henderonia, and in so doing, their customs.”
There were more words, but I didn’t hear them over the roaring in my head, over the sound of mumbled Sadeemian dissent. It was dangerous, someone hissed, for the prince to turn his back on the God of Unrest and the Goddess of Serenity. It was folly, another woman agreed. Nonetheless, they smiled and held up their chalices, their cheers rising with the crowd.