“There,” he said. “It will do you good.” He sat back, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and pressing his fingertips together. “My name is Zhantar. Some put ‘Lord’ in front of it, but you need not worry about that.” I swallowed. Not that his being a lord surprised me, but having my suspicion confirmed was a little daunting. “And who might you be?”
I swallowed again. “My name is ...” I hadn’t thought to prepare a lie. There had been a warrant put out for me, back when Breyard had been under arrest. After my part in helping him escape, it wasn’t likely that the warrant had been rescinded. Surely this lord must be in the favor of the king. What if he recognized me? After an awkward pause, I said, “My name is Dona.” That would have to do. I could only hope my pause hadn’t been too noticeable.
“Well, Dona. You arrived at my house in a rather distressful condition. What can you tell me about that?”
“I’d been captured, well, kidnapped I suppose is a better word. And kept—” My voice broke off as the indignity of it all swept over me. I couldn’t stop myself from crying, but I managed to say, “And kept in a cage, like an animal,” before I broke down completely. It was mortifying just to think of everything that had happened. I couldn’t tell Zhantar all of it; it would be too humiliating.
Zhantar was patient and didn’t say anything. Nilla, her face dark with concern, took a handkerchief from another pocket and started to dab at my eyes. Zhantar touched her arm and made a flicking motion with his hand, and she took my lap tray and left the room. The pink light was gone, and now a fading grey light came through the windows.
“And who are you, Dona, that someone would kidnap you? Are you the daughter of a great nobleman?”
“No. I’m no one.” I dare not tell him about the red dragons, about the prophecy that I had helped fulfill in bringing them back from Stychs to Hedra. I couldn’t tell him about my maejic power. Nor could I tell him about who my parents were or about their abduction. “I think he said something about selling me as a slave.” Maybe that would be believable. Slavery had been outlawed in Alloway long ago, but rumor had it that King Erno kept many of them, regardless.
Zhantar nodded. “Yes, perhaps that was his purpose. It is hard to know for sure, since you were found abandoned, wrapped in a sheet like a corpse, in one of the palace gardens.”
I shuddered in horror, glad I had no memory of that. “Then why am I here, sir? I don’t remember the end of the journey much, not after he covered the cage.”
“I suppose it is true that you should’ve been taken to the palace infirmary, since you were found on the palace grounds. But luckily, it was one of my servants who found you, so I had you brought to my house, instead. They can be so ... inquisitive up at the palace, as I suspect you can imagine.”
I shuddered again at the thought of my narrow escape. “Thank you, sir. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your kindness.”
He smiled. “Do not give that another thought. Let there be no discussion of repayment. Sometimes, one simply does what is right. Now, I think it best that you rest again. I will send Nilla back in to look after you through the night. She has such a restful spirit, do you not think so?”
He left, and Nilla returned. She closed the window and drew the curtains, then pulled the counterpane up over me. Sleep beckoned as I snuggled into the comfortable bed. Nilla put a hand on my head, and all the horrible memories fled.
It wasn’t until much later that I realized I was still wearing the wood collar.
I felt better the next morning. Nilla brought a light breakfast, and I actually felt hungry enough to eat it.
My skin hurt, though, from the sunburn, and it had started peeling in places. I couldn’t resist the urge to help it, and it was a strange pleasure to see just how much I could get off in one piece.
I got out of bed, and though I still felt weak, I went to the window and looked out on what I knew must be Penwick. The house was high up the central hill on and around which the city had grown. It stretched out for miles in all directions. Off to the left, I caught a glimpse of the River Mull.
I’d been to the capital once before, and only for a short time, and though I didn’t know its layout well, I remembered a few key things. The palace was built atop the hill, and its golden roof could be seen from almost anywhere. The huge stone arena that housed the fighting pit was near the palace. The dragons were stabled beneath it. I recalled the agony of Xyla when she’d been captured and kept down there. That had been for only a few days; I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for all those other poor dragons who lived their entire lives down there, unable to see the sun and breathe the fresh air except for the few short minutes of a fight. If there was any way I could, I would help those dragons.
The arena wasn’t visible from my window, but I knew it couldn’t be far away, not when we were so near the top of the hill. Would I be able to hear the roaring of the dragons and the crowd? I hoped not.
My hand drifted up to the wood collar. Why hadn’t they taken it off? I would have to ask Zhantar if he could send someone with the necessary tools. Then I could find a bird to take a message to Yallick. He and the others were far away now and it would take several days to reach him, but what was that compared to what I’d already been through?
As that day dragged by, being alone with nothing to do gave me time to brood.
About my parents.
About Grey.
About Anazian.
About the dragons.
My parents. Grey. Anazian. The dragons. And what was Breyard doing? And Traz? And the mages, especially Yallick?
I wished for someone to talk to, to get my mind off the questions to which there were no answers.
When Nilla brought my lunch, I found a note on the tray. Written on parchment in the blackest ink I’d ever seen, the note said, “I would be pleased if you would dine with me tonight. Nilla will see to everything.”
Dine with a lord? Me? It was one thing to be an accidental guest in his house. But to actually share a proper meal? Now I had one more worry on my mind.
In the middle of the afternoon, Nilla took me to a bathing room, where she assisted me as if I were a helpless child. Or perhaps a fine lady.
When I stepped into the steaming tub, the sting of my sunburn almost took my breath away. But I steeled myself against it and lowered myself in bit by bit, to find that the sting quickly wore off. A bowl on the wide ledge held several cakes of soap, each a different color and scent. I chose the orange. As I used it, its scent of oranges and jasmine filled the room.
I soaked in the water until it had cooled and my fingertips had wrinkled. The towel Nilla supplied was soft, but even so it irritated my tender skin. Then she applied lotion to my arms and legs, soothing the burn.
Back in my room I found that clothes had been laid out for me: pale grey leggings, a forest-green tunic, and a black sash stitched with silver thread. It was too early yet to dress, so I sat in a chair by the window and looked out over the city.
It was so beautiful. From here, you couldn’t see the narrow, dirty streets or the rough folk who peopled them. Had I not walked through those streets once, I would never have imagined, looking out from this height, that they even existed. Here, all was red roofs and sculpted chimneys, green treetops and the peacefulness of the afternoon sun shining down on the prosperous city.
I knew it to be an illusion, knew that the world—and especially this city—held black secrets and blacker hearts. But for a time, it was pleasant to imagine how life could be if one were rich enough and ignorant enough of how common people lived.
Eventually, Nilla helped me into the beautiful clothes. Then she brushed my hair and arranged it in a way I never had: pulled back away from my face and off my neck. She fiddled with it awhile before she was satisfied; I’d cut it short a few months back and perhaps it wasn’t long enough for
the effect she was trying to achieve. Lastly, she gave me a pair of black slippers covered with silver stitching that matched the sash. Then she held the door open for me. I took a deep breath and went out into the corridor.
A half-played game of Talisman and Queen lies before me, the jewel pieces glowing as they sit on the black velvet embroidered with glittering silver thread. The Queen’s Heart, made of obsidian, gleams at the center. Ranged about are the Talismans: mine, glass; my opponent’s, blood.
Anazian sits across from me, absorbing energy and my concentration. His power seems to melt my very bones. I can scarce breathe.
The game is lost. My heart tells me that with a single move, Anazian will Secure the Queen’s Heart. But my brain is frozen, unable to make sense of the game pieces. I have misplayed the game, and my enemy will take all.
Anazian says, “You lose.”
I want to strike him, because I already know this.
“You shall never go home. It is far too late.”
It was a long, intimidating walk to the dining room. Our footsteps, light as they were, echoed in the wide corridors, and as we passed the closed doors on either side, I wondered what lay behind them. And about how many people lived in this huge house. Sure there must be more than Zhantar, Nilla, and me.
A grand staircase took us down to the main entryway, whose floor was inlaid with an elaborate mural. Brightly colored tapestries softened the stone walls, and fat candles had already been lit, though nightfall was still at least an hour away. The things in this room alone must be more valuable than my family’s home and all our possessions. Which brought back my last memories of the cottage, all its contents ruined and scattered, its occupants injured or missing. I tried to steer my mind from those thoughts. There was nothing I could do now, and if my mood were too somber, perhaps Zhantar would regret his invitation.
Nilla led me into the dining room, the size of which almost took my appetite away. Fifty people must be able to sit at the long table, with room to spare. The dark-paneled walls had no decorations other than silver candle sconces, though I was somewhat relieved to see that only those at the other end of the room were actually lit. Nilla led me down there, past the tall carved chairs pushed close to the table.
At the far end, three places were set. Ah, I thought, perhaps I would meet the lady of the house now. Nilla gestured to the place on the left of the head, then disappeared through a second door on this end of the room.
I didn’t know what to do. Should I sit or remain standing? No one had ever taught me the proper etiquette for a situation such as this. Before I made up my mind, though, the door opened and Zhantar swept into the room. He was taller than I’d thought, and there was also something about him that seemed to fill up the entire room.
“Good evening, young lady. It’s good to see you on your feet and looking so well.” He gestured to my chair. “Please, sit.”
I did, and he took his own seat at the head of the table. I watched him out of the corner of my eye and followed his lead when he put his napkin on his lap. Glancing at the door, I wondered when our supper companion was coming, and who it would be. When the door started to open, I composed my face to meet the newcomer, but it turned out to be two servants bringing what I soon learned was not the meal but only the first course.
Curious, I asked, “Is your ... wife going to join us?”
Zhantar shot me a piercing look that made me want to cover my face and hide. “Why do you ask?” he demanded in a sharp voice.
I swallowed. “I was just wondering who ... who would be joining us, and I assumed ...” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence—not with him looking at me as he was.
“Ah, I see.” A little of the hardness went out of his eyes. “Of course. But no, my wife is long dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I felt myself blush.
Turning his head to the servants, who were organizing things on the sideboard, Zhantar said, “We are ready for the wine.” As my large goblet was filled, I stared. I’d never drunk this much wine before! We’d had it only seldom growing up, and when Mama had given us some, she’d always watered it down considerably first. When his own goblet was filled, Zhantar took it and raised it. I followed suit. “To ... to new beginnings,” he said. I mouthed the words, unable to get any sound out, touched glasses, and took a sip.
I’d never tasted anything quite like this. It had a rich, deep flavor that sent a tickle up my nose. That one mouthful, I guessed, was more than I’d ever had at a time, and now I was faced with the prospect of drinking a whole glassful.
The entire meal had an intimidating effect on me. The food was truly the best I’d ever eaten in my life, and it was plentiful. There was enough for a whole table of novices at Roylinn Academy, but Zhantar didn’t seem to notice the excess.
I said scarcely a word during the meal, nor did my host seem inclined to talk. With each mouthful of wine, I felt a little more lightheaded. But it was the small glass of sherry with dessert that put me over the edge. One mouthful of it, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. I wondered what pleasure there was in drinking spirits if all it did was send one to sleep.
Zhantar laughed. “I suspect you are not used to formal dining,” he said.
“No, sir, I’m not.”
“Well, that will change with practice. I’d hoped to spend some time in the drawing room learning more about you, but perhaps it will be better if you go to your night’s rest.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said with a yawn, not liking to be rude and disappoint his plans.
“Not at all, child. I should have considered your situation. Off with you now.”
Nilla appeared as if from nowhere, although with my muddled head, it didn’t seem odd. She took me back to my room, then helped me change into my night things and get into bed. I fell asleep as she put the fine clothes into the wardrobe.
Silver moonlight shone through a gap in the curtains, filling the room. The shadows cast by the furniture were sharp and angular, and seemed to hide something. My door creaked open, and someone came in, closing the door softly behind.
I lay there, watching the dark figure approach me, hoping they would think I still slept. A pale hand that glowed in the moonlight reached out from the cloak, stretching toward me. If I moved, they would know I was awake. I forced myself to remain still.
Closer came the hand. I swallowed. But it didn’t touch me. Instead, it took hold of the wood collar.
A brittle whisper broke the silence. “I know you’re awake.”
I didn’t answer. I tried to breathe slowly to counteract my racing heart. Who was this person, and what did they intend to do?
The hand pulled the collar, forcing me to rise up out of bed. I shivered a little in the chill air.
“You will come with me.” And now I recognized the voice.
Anazian! How could he have found me? How could he be here in Zhantar’s house?
But, of course I had no choice but to follow him. Down the corridor, down the stairs to the entryway, through one door and then another, then down more stairs into a cellar. The stone floor was cold against my bare feet, and I shivered again. The door at the top of the cellar stairs slammed shut of its own accord, and everything went pitch black.
My heart echoed around the unseen space. I tried to brace myself for whatever was to come next.
But nothing came. Literally. Anazian’s footsteps rang on the floor for a moment, then stopped. Next I heard a rustling sound off to my left. Instinctively I turned toward it.
Silence fell, broken only by my own ragged breath. Then behind me, a sound of metal on stone. I whirled.
And so it went on for hours it seemed. Noises. Sometimes the feel of breath on my skin. Sometimes agonizing long periods of nothing. And when I couldn’t take any more torment, I screamed.
I woke up after the
strange dream feeling tired and unrested. The heavy curtains let in little of the morning light, and I got out of bed and opened them, letting golden sunlight flood the room and wash the dark dream out of my mind.
Rubbing my stiff neck, I looked out over the city, even more beautiful in the fresh morning than it had been the afternoon before.
After breakfast, Nilla brought me clothes to change into. Not fancy clothes like those I’d worn last night, but casual ones—plain tan trousers and a short-sleeved blue tunic.
Almost immediately after I changed, there was a knock on the door, and Zhantar entered.
“I have tedious business to attend to today. Before I go, I wish to fortify myself with a stroll in my garden. Will you join me?”
He didn’t need to ask twice. Being outside for a bit would do me good, maybe clear the traces of last night’s dream from my head.
A path of crushed stone led across a neatly trimmed lawn, through the bed opposite the house, and on the other side was an orderly kitchen garden in which two men worked, one old and one young.
The day had not yet grown hot, though the absence of a cooling breeze promised that would change soon. Still, the garden was restful, and when Zhantar said it was time for him to leave, I asked if I could stay outside longer.
“I’m afraid not. My business calls, and I am not entirely convinced that your safety is no longer at risk. That man who brought you to the city could yet be looking for you. No, best you stay safe in your chamber.”
And back inside we went, where I spent a tiresome day with, as before, nothing to do. Chastising myself for not asking for a book to read, I spent much of the day staring out the window on the peaceful rooftops, beneath which I knew seethed life and activity.
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