Dragon's Heart

by Michelle Rabe

  “You want me to do what?” Serena cocked her head to the left and met her advisor’s gaze.

  “Jump, princess.”

  “Altus, if you want me dead, there are simpler ways to go about it.”

  “I don’t want you dead. What I want is for you to remember who and what you are.”

  She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. “Who and what I am is not hopping off a bloody cliff because some git with wings tells me to.”

  A brief smile broke out across his face before he hid it and said, “You’ll remember. Your body knows what to do.”

  “You’re willing to risk my death?”

  “You will not die,” he said stepping off solid ground and into nothing. His wings snapped open, and before she knew it, he was level with her. Slow, powerful strokes of his wings kept him suspended high above the lake.

  “And if my body doesn’t remember? If I fall?”

  “This is a place where our people have learned to fly for generations. The water is quite dee—” He stopped, a thought occurring, a question not asked. “Princess, do you know how to swim?”

  Her breath came out in an exasperated huff before she replied, “Yes, I know how to swim.”

  “Enough already,” Zanna growled and shoved Serena off the rock ledge.

  Serena screamed, the water rushing toward her as her arms and legs flailed. Her wings snapped out to their full extent, and the wind was knocked out of her for a second as they caught the current, slowing but not stopping her descent.

  Distant shouts were lost in the rush of wind and her thundering heartbeat.

  Serena closed her eyes and fought to silence the shrieking voice in her head.

  Instinct took over, her wings flexed, muscles in her back straining, but her fall halted for a moment. Her wings beat again, and she rose. The process had repeated several times before she was level with Altus. Her advisor smiled.

  “You bastard.”

  “I did not push you, princess. It was one of the trio.”

  “Under your orders, no doubt.”

  He shrugged, neither confirming nor denying her accusation. “Yet you have proven you can indeed fly when you are a half-dragon.”

  Choosing to ignore the obvious, Serena focused on what she didn’t know, maneuvering. It’s all well and good to fly but pointless unless I can go somewhere other than up. “How do I go any direction, but up or down?”

  “Simply lean the way you wish to travel, and your wings will do the rest.”

  The princess followed his instruction, and though a little clumsy, she managed to get her feet back on solid ground within a short time. Her back muscles ached. The wings were heavy. She leaned over and supported herself with her hands on her thighs.

  “You will get stronger with time. Just like any skill, flying is something you must practice. Once you have, we will begin to concentrate on combat,” Siobhan said from a few feet away.

  “Combat?”

  “What? I hope you didn’t think Dragon Fey queens just sat on their thrones as the humans do?” Zanna asked, still dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

  “No.” Serena smiled and turned to face the other woman. “And if they did, that would be something I would change with my rule.”

  “You think the training those humans gave you,” she said looking Serena up and down, finding the princess lacking, “means anything?”

  “I am my father’s daughter, and you would do well to remember that.”

  “You cannot trade on your father’s name forever.”

  “You’re right.” Serena stepped up, so she was nose to nose with Zanna. She smiled and shoved the other woman off the cliff.

  Her guard fell about halfway to the water before she caught and righted herself.

  Serena waited until Zanna had her feet back on the ground before she finished her thought. “At some point, I am going to prove myself.”

  “I am waiting to see it.”

  “What have I done to offend you so?”

  “You… Weren’t… Here.”

  “My parents, my brothers, my clan, and countless others were killed. Somehow, I survived. Do not blame me because those my parents trusted with my care, chose not to inform me.” She paused, drawing in a deep breath, using it to steady herself. “The one person who might have told me the truth, died before she had the chance. I am here, staying away from the only place I’ve ever called home, separated from the man I love.” Serena’s heart clenched in her chest, and she had to pause. “All because I am trying to do what I think my parents would have wanted. If you do not like how I am handling myself, then get out of my sight and my court.”

  Their eyes locked, neither woman blinking for several moments before she smiled. “Well done, princess.” Zanna stepped back and dropped to one knee, drawing both daggers and stabbing them into the ground at Serena’s feet.

  Place your fist over your heart and speak these words in our language. The voice Serena had come to recognize as her father’s echoed through her mind.

  Listening, she repeated the words, which were both familiar and strange. When she was finished, Zanna whispered a vow in response and stood, her fist over her heart.

  “Your Highness, forgive me.”

  “Of course.” Serena smiled. “Though we will have that bout sometime soon.”

  “As you wish, Highness.” Zanna bowed.

  “Good Gods.” Serena threw her arms up. “It’s just us.” She took a deep breath and brought her arms down. “Can we please dispense with the Highnesses and all the bloody bowing?” She let her breath out and finished, “It’s making me anxious.”

  Chapter 16

  Fifteen days had elapsed since the signing of the marriage contract and announcement of the betrothal of Katia and Killian. Court gossips speculated about everything from the date, to what the bride would wear, the size of the ceremony, and how soon an heir would be produced.

  As the future queen, Katia liked those rumors because they helped remind commoners and courtiers alike of the upcoming nuptials and her rank. Katia hated the other whispers, the ones swirling around Serena Harlowe and the reasons for her sudden disappearance from the court. They reminded the masses she wasn’t the prince’s first choice and indeed, another had won his heart. As far as the court and commoners were concerned, it opened up the possibility for a bastard to take the throne. She knew nothing could be done about the wagging tongues.

  So many questions remained about the overreaching commoner’s disappearance that even months later, Serena Harlowe remained a popular topic of discussion. Even worse, there has been no word from the men who were hired to keep her out of the way but alive. I knew that was a fool’s errand. But father had to do things his way. Katia took a deep breath and cleared her mind. After a moment, she pulled the hood of her cloak up, slipped out of her chambers into the deserted corridor and paused, listening. Satisfied she was alone, Katia set off in search of the royal steward’s private study. There’s work to be done. I must not be distracted. Nothing can be allowed to stand in the way of my marriage.

  Deep in the dark heart of the night, most of the palace slept. Every so often one or two servants still bustled through the halls on some errand. Torches in sconces lit the corridor with warm, flickering light. Katia stopped in front of a set of double doors and waited, listening to make sure she was alone before easing one door open. The hinges let out a long, low groan, so she opened it just far enough to slip through. Once inside, she pushed the door closed. She turned and held out her right hand, calling a tiny ball of purple-white light to her palm. Taking a moment to orient herself, the noblewoman started toward the tapestry hung on the wall. Without hesitation, she pulled it back and slipped into the hidden passage, letting the heavy fabric fall back into place.

  Katia paused and reached into the pouch on her belt, withdrawing a small lump with a strand of long, silver hair wound around it. She held the material to her lips, whispered an invocation and blew on it. The clay ros
e from her palm, formed itself into the shape of a butterfly and flitted off, leaving a small glowing trail in its wake. Katia lifted the front of her skirt and jogged after it. She followed the tiny construct through the labyrinth of hidden corridors until it stopped in front of what appeared to be just another section of wall.

  Ancient Dragon Fey soothsayers known for concealing things had helped build the palace. I see no reason why a secret passage would be any different. She stepped forward and placed her hand on the bricks in front of her.

  Katia felt a momentary hesitation as though pushing through a thick, viscous liquid. She frowned and pushed a little harder. A moment later, an illusion tingled beneath her fingers, and her hand passed through. Not as clever as you think, you beasts. She took a deep breath and followed.

  Thousands of stinging thorns plunged into her flesh. Katia rolled her lips between her teeth and bit down to keep from crying out. Illusion with protection woven in meant to keep fools from going any further. She held her breath as her whole body passed through the spell. A moment later, she stepped into the queen’s bedchamber.

  Smiling, she brought back the small ball of dark light and waited for her eyes to adjust. Across the large room, Anastasia appeared frail in her massive bed, propped up on pillows and sitting up. Katia was alone in the room with the queen. She smiled. Her agent had done his work well. She crossed the large chamber and sat on the bed beside the queen.

  Anastasia stirred, her eyes opening, but not fully seeing what was in front of her for several seconds before focusing on Katia. Her blue eyes went wide as Katia held up her flat hand and puffed out a breath over the palm. A fine cloud of silvery black dust rose up between them. The queen opened her mouth to scream as the younger woman whispered another invocation. Tendrils of a cloud shot out curling into Anastasia’s eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth before dissipating.

  Katia let the glamor effect fall, allowing the dying monarch to see her true self.

  Anastasia gasped, fighting to breathe. The dust she’d inhaled filled her lungs with what felt like cobwebs, choking off her air in small portions at a time. Pinpoints of bright light exploded across her vision in a perverse parody of the fireworks display to celebrate her grandson’s betrothal to the woman who was now killing her.

  “Look at me.” The voice was no longer that of the young noble woman. It was vacant, without emotion, though its cadence and tone mimicked normal speech.

  “No.” Anastasia turned her head. She struggled against her attacker, but age and long illness had taken its toll.

  “You will look. You will see. You will know.” The words were spoken in a singsong manner that, slithered deep into the queen’s mind, wrapping itself around her will and crushing it. She had no choice but to obey.

  The beautiful young noble seemed to melt away. Katia’s eyes darkened to black, ringed with yellow and green shadows, as if she’d been bruised and wasn’t quite healed. Her flesh was semi-transparent, allowing the queen to see blue, red, and black veins beneath. The nightmarish creature smiled, revealing yellowing pointed teeth. Tattered gossamer wings peeked out above her shoulders.

  Anastasia’s blood ran cold.

  “Dark Fey,” the queen said and wheezed, using some of her dwindling air supply. She heard buzzing in her ears, and the edges of her vision blurred and began darkening.

  Cold certainty settled over the queen. Anastasia knew she was going to die, tonight.

  “You have bound your grandson to me. He will not live long beyond his usefulness. We have destroyed the Dragon Fey whelpling, and soon we will control your court.”

  “You… Killed… Them.” Anastasia gasped each word.

  “Your daughter-in-law? The Dragon Fey bitch queen and her mate? The whelpling my Killian was enamored of? Your son? Your grandson? You?” Katia giggled, a high-pitched almost girlish sound. She leaned forward, close enough to kiss the dying woman. “Yes, I have and will continue until I am queen,” she whispered, inhaling Anastasia’s last gasp, taking the other woman’s life force into her. When the barest hint of a spark remained, Katia stopped, waiting. She held her breath and closed her eyes, letting the old woman’s life suffuse her with energy. The queen may have been on death’s door, but a surprising spark of life had been left within her, making every nerve tingle with power. Katia’s head dropped forward, and she drew in a long, shuddering breath before falling back on the bed, laughing.

  “You really were a feisty old thing, weren’t you?” she asked riding out the euphoria. The sound of a door closing in one of the outer chambers shattered Katia’s bliss. Shaking off her frustration, she stood and jogged back to the hidden entrance.

  “Your Majesty?” A feminine voice called out from the sitting room.

  As Katia pushed through the illusory wall, the door creaked as the maid pushed it open. When she was through, she lifted her skirts and ran through the corridors back to the nearest entrance. Her heart pounding. Once the servant finds the queen dead, my presence will be required. I need to get back to a part of the palace where my location won’t be questioned.

  Killian woke to the sound of someone pounding on his chamber door. He shifted in bed, hoping by ignoring it the sound would go away, or the offender would give up and leave him in peace. Sleep was the only place he’d found solace since Serena’s disappearance. She was with him in his dreams. They were together and happy. As soon as he woke, grief returned, numbing, crushing. The experience was exhausting. When the pounding repeated, he rolled over and sat, yelling, “Come.”

  “Your Highness.” Thomas stumbled into the room disheveled, looking nothing like his usual put together self as he made a clumsy bow.

  “What is it?” Dread slipped its icy slime coated claws into his psyche and dug in.

  “Your grandmother, Highness…” Thomas didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence before the pealing of a single bell rang out over the castle and the city below. He stopped and ducked his head. “I am sorry.”

  “Thank you, Thomas. Please see to it that my,” he said, swallowing hard, “betrothed is informed.”

  “As you wish, Highness,” the valet said before turning and walking out of the room, leaving Killian alone with his thoughts.

  Memories of his mother’s death flooded his mind, filling his heart with new, raw pain. Though it had been sudden, he hadn’t been alone. Coleen was still at court and in public, and the prince and princess leaned on one another for support. In private, Serena had been there for him, allowing him to cry on her shoulder, to rage at the unfairness of it. She’d sat with him when he didn’t want to be alone. Now, her absence seemed like another death.

  Going through the motions, Killian stood, dressed, and made his way to his grandmother’s suite. Given the time of night, the halls should have been silent. Instead, servants and several exhausted courtiers hustled from one place to another as preparations for the period of mourning were set in motion.

  “Killian.” Her voice tore the silence asunder, grating on his fragile nerves.

  He turned to face the woman he was contracted to marry. “Yes, my lady?”

  “I’ve just heard, dear Gods. Is there anything I can do to help? Anything I’m supposed to do?”

  A soft, sad smile flashed across his features for a moment, and he shook his head. “Nothing special.” He offered her his arm. “We must pay our respects to the departed and homage to the new king. Then the official time of mourning begins.”

  “Will I be expected to take part?” she asked with a slight pout.

  “Do not play the fool, lady. It does not become you,” Killian warned, tightening his grip on her arm.

  “As you wish, my prince.” She pulled her arm from his, stepped back, and curtsied.

  His eyes narrowed, and an emotion close to disgust filled his eyes before he spoke in a low growl. “Do not ever call me that again.”

  Katia recoiled as though she’d been slapped. “As you desire, Highness.”

  Killian nodded and held out his arm ag
ain. He didn’t want to touch her, but traditions must be observed.

  They paused at the entrance to the monarch’s apartments, waiting as two members of the Royal Guard opened the doors to admit them. Killian approached his father, dropping Katia’s arm. The prince gave the new king the expected embrace, holding it for longer than he wanted to keep tongues from wagging. Stepping back, he made room for Katia. She embraced the new monarch and seemed to whisper something in his ear before releasing him. When she stepped back to Killian’s side, a slight self-satisfied smile curled her lips.

  The prince took her arm and led her to the door of his grandmother’s bedchamber. Katia’s face went white, eyes wide, and her mouth worked as if she was trying to speak, but no sound came out. Killian turned her to face her. It was clear his betrothed was terrified of something inside that room.

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “Perhaps I should do this alone.”

  She nodded, a strange, haunted look came over her, and she swallowed hard and glanced at the ground before whispering, “I think that might be for the best.” She stepped away from him.

  Killian entered the chamber. In each corner, one of Death’s Handmaidens stood their vigil. He approached the bed and sat beside his grandmother. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared asleep as if she would wake at any moment. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer to the Gods asking them for strength and peace and to watch over the souls of his mother and grandmother… and to ensure his sister’s continued health. Finishing, as he did every time, with a heartfelt plea for Serena’s safe return.