by R. K. Ryals
She was almost gone when she whispered, “You are not the phoenix.”
I woke to my own sobs.
Part II
Chapter 13
For three days, I stayed in bed. I was completely and utterly crushed, full of overwhelming loss, grief, and betrayal. At first, it was easy to pretend I stayed in my room because of the wound in my thigh. There were whispers about me in the castle, some of them horrid, others making me into something I could never be.
My thoughts were consumed with the words of a goddess. “You are not the phoenix.”
I didn’t expect to feel so much grief over those words. After all, hadn’t I fought against the idea from the beginning? And yet, we as a condemned people had lost so much over the assumption that I was the girl of prophecy, that I would lift them out of slavery and set them free. I’d begun to believe I was the one. The forest had crowned me their queen.
Sitting up in bed, I leaned over, my fist in my stomach and tears streaking down my cheeks. So many deaths; all because of me. I couldn’t bear it. I knew books. I knew words. In all of the epic, heroic adventures I’d ever read, the hero led his people to triumph, gave them hope, and gave them their happily ever after. I couldn’t recall a single one where halfway through the adventure, the hero discovers he isn’t their savior.
Oran paced in front of me, his claws clicking against the wooden floor. I hadn’t spoken in three days.
“It’s more than the wound, isn’t it?” Oran asked. I glanced at him, but said nothing. “You’ve got to come back to us, Phoenix. We leave soon.”
Horror filled me. “Don’t call me that!”
Oran backed away from me. “The phoenix?”
My hands covered my face, and I wept. How long I sat there is beyond me, but there was a sudden dip in the bed. An arm fell across my shoulders, and I fell into the cool, familiar chest. Lochlen never made any noise. I breathed him in. He smelled like smoke and fire.
“This isn’t the girl who survived a wyver attack and faced off with a king,” Lochlen murmured.
I looked up at him. Out of everyone, only Lochlen had ever doubted I was the chosen one. It was his doubt that made me tell him.
“I’m not the phoenix,” I confessed. “I’m not who everyone thinks I am.”
His reptilian eyes dilated, but other than that, there was no reaction. “Something happened.”
I nodded. “The goddess came to me. Silveet came to me.”
Oran gasped from his place on the floor. I couldn’t make myself look at him.
Lochlen touched my cheek, his cool skin even colder against the heat of tears. “Tell me everything.”
And I did; from the misty dreams to Silveet’s sudden appearance. Four nights. One devastating realization.
Lochlen froze. “Have you asked yourself what you are, Stone? If you are not the phoenix, then what are you?”
I stared. “So many deaths,” I whispered.
Lochlen sighed. “A forest crowned you queen. A goddess came to you. You. So, you are not the phoenix. Look past that. Look at what else she told you. You carry the power of three gods. She told you to rule, that your power could bring great devastation or great peace. Don’t walk away from that because you suddenly discover you are not a savior. You still have rebels to lead.”
I gawked. “I can’t deceive them, Lochlen.”
He grinned. “You are not deceiving them. You’re leading them. You’ve never claimed to be anything other than who you are. The forest and the people gave you the title of phoenix. You filled that role for them. You’ve given them hope. All we can do now is heed the goddess’s warning and continue to fight. There is much more at stake than a prophecy.”
I slumped against Lochlen, the burden I’d carried the past few days shared now with him.
Oran jumped onto the bed. “You are the forest’s champion,” he said fiercely. “You are our phoenix.”
My fingers found his fur, and I gripped it, a sudden realization falling over me. “I’m not the cause of the prince’s death.” My head snapped up. “I’m not the one who will destroy Cadeyrn or the infant heir.”
Lochlen’s gaze stayed on my face. Hope filled me. I wasn’t going to be responsible for the fall of a prince, but there was still someone out there who would be.
I didn’t know who I was anymore. It was a humbling feeling, to suddenly lose an identity I’d just begun to grasp. I had to reinvent myself. Give myself a purpose. I was Queen of the Forest, the daughter of Sadeemia’s Minister of Government, the leader of a group of condemned people, and I was a scribe with the powers of a mage. It was oddly empowering to be so much and yet not be the one thing people assumed I was. The goddess had said my destiny had yet to be written. It was freeing knowing that my life was not yet planned. I was a rebel fighting for freedom.
I stood. “Remember, it is often powers we overlook that grant us the means for greatness.”
Lochlen rose. “Take that with you,” he said. “You are great on your own, Stone. Not because of a prophecy. I’m not giving up on you. I’m not sure how, but your life is too entwined with Medeisia’s turmoil not to be tied to the prophecy somehow.”
Oran sat up. “I’d follow you anywhere.”
I looked at them. “I feel so small,” I whispered.
Lochlen ruffled my hair. “You’re only as small as you let yourself feel.” He gestured at my shift, his nose wrinkling. “Now go! Bathe and change. There is much to do.”
He walked away from me, his auburn hair gleaming in the sunlight streaming in from my partially open window.
“Thank you,” I told him.
He paused and glanced back at me. His eyes suddenly reminded me of Silveet’s, a sinister gold that could destroy as quickly as it protected.
“You’ve achieved so much,” he said. “Your mother would be proud of you.”
I swallowed the tears of gratitude. I’d cried enough.
Chapter 14
Later that day, I was on the training fields stringing an arrow when Princess Catriona found me. She was followed by two large Henderonian guards. They had circles tattooed on their cheeks, and their heads were bald. They wore scarlet vests over white tunics tucked into black breeches. Intimidating was too mild a word for them.
Catriona noticed me staring and smiled. “They are called Herrnos, royal guards who dedicate their lives to the Henderonian crown. Deadly and unforgiving.”
I held my bow down, my gaze on the princess. She was dazzling, her body enfolded in a navy gown lined with jade-colored beads. Her hair was pulled back and tied off with a navy ribbon, her fiery curls flowing down her back. It almost hurt to look at her.
“My sister was the truly beautiful one,” she said. My eyes widened, and she waved her hand. “Oh, posh! Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking it. I’ve been told before that I’m easy to look at, but my sister …now, she was the true beauty. She glowed.”
I turned back toward the target in the distance, my elbows coming up. “Did you need something, Your Majesty?”
Catriona watched me. Silence stretched. I pulled back on the bow, my eyes narrowing. My aim was true, and when I released the arrow, it embedded itself into the target just left of the center.
Catriona clapped. “Impressive.”
I shrugged. “It’s necessity, Your Highness.”
She stepped toward me, and I lowered my bow. “I’ve heard about your people’s plight, and I’m truly touched by it. To be unable to practice magic, read, or write is unimaginable, but to be condemned for it is …” Her hand rested on a training post. “Well, it isn’t right.”
I looked at her. “We will win our freedom,” I promised.
Her gaze searched mine. “I have no doubt.” She offered me her hand. “I think we started off on the wrong foot, Phoenix.”
I took her hand and bowed over it. “It’s Drastona, Your Majesty. Just Drastona.”
She smiled. “Well, just Drastona, I am Catriona. Close friends call me Cat.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “Some
thing about you fascinates me. Tell me, are you in love with my husband?”
I dropped my bow. “What?”
Catriona laughed. “So the amazing ‘little bird’ can be shaken up. I’m delighted. Take no offense. I’m horribly curious, you see. My father is forever put out by it. And you know how I feel about the prince. It certainly isn’t affection.”
I bent to pick up my weapon. “You have nothing to worry about from me, Your Highness.”
Her gaze followed me. “Truly?” she asked. “The pendant you wear around your neck, where does it come from?”
It took everything I had not to grab the necklace and shove it inside my tunic. My cheeks burned. “It was a gift.”
“Ah,” Catriona murmured. “A gift.” The princess pointed at my bow. “May I?”
Dumbly, I nodded, offering it to her.
She took it, testing its weight before taking an arrow from my quiver. “You should know that I don’t blame Cadeyrn. I loathe his lot in life, the danger he’s constantly in, and what that means for those of us who must commit our lives to his country. I know it isn’t something he can help. I’m not a bad person, but … I can barely make myself look at him.”
She took aim, her eyes narrowing on the target.
“He loved your sister very much,” I murmured. “He carries her with him everywhere.”
Catriona released the arrow. It hit the edge of the bull’s eye. “Not as close as yours,” she said, grinning, “but not bad.”
The princess turned, her gaze falling to my pendant. “I know he loved her. Until her death, their marriage was like nothing I’d ever seen. It was full of immense happiness. It isn’t his fault that every time I look at him I see blood.” Her gaze met mine. “I don’t want to be married to my sister’s husband.”
My heart broke, and I reached for her, my hand finding her silk-covered arm. “Duty is often a heavy weight to bear.”
She smiled softly. “I like you, little bird.” Her tone made it seem as if being liked by her was a tremendous honor. It should have seemed vain, but it didn’t.
I found myself grinning. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
She snorted. “Call me Cat. I think we will be great friends, you and I. Even if my husband does secretly long for a marked rebel.”
I would have stumbled if Catriona’s hand hadn’t caught my elbow. “I like shocking you,” she admitted. “I hear you are the Lord Conall’s bastard.”
Frowning, I nodded.
Her eyes gleamed. “Then you are Gryphon’s sister.”
I glanced at her. “You know him?”
Catriona shrugged. “I had an affair with him once.”
Again, I stumbled.
Catriona chuckled. “Your face, little bird! You’ve seldom spent time in court, I see. I met Gryphon at my sister’s wedding. He’s a good man, your brother. Things are often not as they seem in court. We may be rich, we may have been born to rule, but it doesn’t stop us from loving.”
I stared. “You love Gryphon then?”
Her gaze met mine. “I did once.”
Reaching out, I touched her sleeve. “Love doesn’t stop. Not true love.”
She shrugged.
“It’s wrong,” I whispered, “being forced to marry your sister’s husband when you’re in love with someone else.”
The princess laughed. “It’s duty.”
There was no sorrow in her voice when she said it. I didn’t envy her.
“And what about you?” Catriona asked. “It can’t be easy being in love with a man married to two women.”
I stiffened. “I’m not in love with him.”
Her brows rose. “What an adamant denial! Is it because of your dead prince?” she asked. “Do you fear loving again?”
I took my bow from her and strung another arrow.
Catriona watched me. “Sometimes denying love can be as thrilling as accepting it. There is something incredibly magnetic about longing for something that can never be.”
I released the arrow. It hit dead center.
Glancing at Catriona, I found her staring over the training fields, her gaze on the swordsmen seizing each other up in the training loop. She shielded her eyes from the sun. Within the ring, Cadeyrn circled Gryphon, both of them smiling, both of them bare from the waist up, their swords raised. Something about the way she watched them touched me.
I slung my bow onto my back and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I agree. I think we will be great friends, you and I.”
She looked at me and smiled, her hand finding mine on her shoulder.
Chapter 15
Catriona was true to her word. She sought me out regularly over the next three days. Often, it was on the training field, her gaze searching the yards for Gryphon. She was a great conversationalist with the uncanny ability to make anyone laugh. Daegan and Maeve had to hold their stomachs to keep from guffawing and drawing attention to our group. Catriona even managed to win Oran’s affection. It wasn’t unusual to see him rubbing against her skirts. She was a welcome addition. Although Daegan and Maeve were lighthearted, we could be a morose group at times, our burdens heavy. Even heavier was my new secret. Catriona’s presence lightened things.
It was only Lochlen Catriona remained wary of. His eyes unsettled her. She knew he was a dragon—it wasn’t a secret—but knowing he could transform into a large beast frightened her. Oddly, her fear made me like her more. Under all of her jokes, under all of her wide smiles and shocking comments, was an insecure woman who was as afraid as the rest of us.
Most of all, Catriona adored being scandalous.
“Gabriella abhors her feet. She never lets anyone see them. Her servants say she rarely removes her stockings, even when she bedded the prince.” Catriona grinned.
Taking a bite of an apple, Daegan choked, his cheek bulging. “And why would it matter if she had hideous feet?” Daegan asked, small pieces of fruit spraying from his mouth. He swallowed. “Feet are the last thing men look at.” He waved his apple. “Now teeth, teeth are a different matter altogether.”
Maeve punched him in the arm. “Insufferable brute.”
Daegan winked. “I make no apologies.”
We were having an early lunch. Soldiers from all over Sadeemia had begun gathering in the capital, many of them lodging in barracks built near the sea. The days had become longer and more exhausting. The king was often seen walking amongst his men; his head bent, his brow furrowed. Cadeyrn met with him often.
A heavy, desolate cloud settled over the kingdom. Mothers, wives, and daughters would be saying good-bye to their husbands, sons, and fathers soon, and because Sadeemia allowed women in their army, there would be a lot of mothers, wives, and daughters leaving to fight as well.
“You look positively deathly,” Catriona observed.
I attempted to smile, but only managed a grimace. “Four days until we march to Medeisia.”
It was all I said, but it was enough.
Catriona waved at the castle walls. “Henderonia is sending men. They’ll be easier to detect from the sea by Raemon, but hopefully by then Cadeyrn’s men will have made enough impact.”
Maeve shook her head. “It’s nearly impossible to enter Medeisia from the sea. There are too many mountains and the waters are rough. Most ships are destroyed.”
Catriona glanced at me. “Sounds like an inhospitable country.”
My thoughts filled with images of the forests, of the dragons’ caverns beneath the mountains. “It’s beautiful,” I murmured.
Daegan and Maeve mumbled wistfully in agreement.
Catriona’s gaze raked our group. She lifted my arm, turning it so that my wrist faced up. The busted inkwell stared at us. “How did you get your marks?”
It was a question I didn’t want to answer. It was Cadeyrn who saved me.
“Stone.” The prince approached us, his father with him. All of us stood, half eaten apples and pieces of bread falling to the ground, our heads bowed. Catriona rose more slowly, her brows knit
ted together, Oran beside her. Lochlen emerged from a group of soldiers to stand just behind the prince.
“Dispense with the formalities,” the king commanded.
Cadeyrn’s gaze found my face, and he gestured at the castle. “Come. We need you in the war room.”
The king eyed the Henderonian princess before leaving the training fields. “Catriona seems quite taken with the rebels,” Freemont observed.
Lochlen kept step next to him. “Is the princess not allowed to associate with us?”
Freemont blinked. “It isn’t encouraged.”
My jaw tensed, my chin lifting. The Sadeemian king was willing to help us, but he wasn’t willing to accept us. I didn’t blame him, but it didn’t make me like it any less.
We were at the door to the war room before any of us spoke again.
“Sometimes the king forgets that it is our allies that have made our country as strong as it is,” Cadeyrn remarked.
Freemont’s cheeks reddened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. My lips twitched, amusement unfurling in my gut. Cadeyrn’s relationship with his father reminded me of Lochlen’s relationship with Feras. The only difference was their reserved interactions. Lochlen and Feras would have been shooting flames at each other, gold scales mingling with blue as they wrestled.
“Do you find us amusing, rebel?” the king asked.
He brushed past us into the room.
“No, Your Majesty,” I answered. “You remind me of another king I know.”
The war room was a circular chamber covered in maps. A long table sat in the center of the room, high-backed wooden chairs surrounding it. The scarred mahogany surface was covered in documents. Lord Conall and Gryphon bent over them, fingers moving over the pages as they murmured softly. They rose as we entered, Gryphon’s face breaking into a smile. He had a dimple in the left side of his cheek that transformed his entire face. I looked nothing like him.
“Another king?” Freemont asked. “I hope you don’t mean Raemon.”
If Conall or Gryphon were puzzled by our conversation, they didn’t show it.