The Dragons' Chosen

by Gwen Dandridge

  “Anne was.” Tristan shook his head as if trying to shed something. “She clapped her hands like we had brought it just for her.”

  He looked eager to change the subject. “Tell us something about yourself, My Lady. All we know about you is that you’re a loyal friend to our princess. And from a far-away land. Do you have siblings?”

  Chris rolled her eyes. “Nope. Mom said I was such a hellion as a toddler she refused to contemplate two of me.”

  “What about your lands. How is your court life?” James asked, squinting at her.

  “Oh, there’s no court, just school, classes, tests. Sometimes we get together and party. Maybe go out and dance to a local dance band.” She looked so wistful as she spoke. She glanced at me then and said quickly. “Not that I wouldn’t rather be here, of course.”

  Guilt coursed through me, a black wave of self-reproach. She should leave. I needed to bid her farewell and let her return to the world of Berkeley.

  Piers suddenly brightened. “The lady wants music? Allow me.” He settled near my feet, strumming his lute, the water adding a gentle percussion to his tune. Since the boar incident, he had trailed behind like a supplicant, convinced his duty was to entertain Chris and me at every opportunity.

  Tristan spoke again, his voice pitched low, gently riding over the melody. I could hear concern in his voice. “Princess, how do you fare? Is this to your taste?” His eyes searched mine, and I wondered what he was truly asking.

  Piers hummed along, finishing one tune and starting another. Before I could respond, Tristan tensed and faced Piers, shaking his head at him. A muscle twitched below his eye. A smell, the whiff of smoke. Tristan’s eyes hardened. In that moment, I thought he might transform into a dragon.

  It was a haunting melody. I stammered, trying to diffuse the tension. “That’s lovely, Piers. Does it have words?”

  Piers had a mischievous look on his face. “Tristan, sing your song. She wants to hear it.”

  Tristan ignored him. A flare of panic crossed his face. Piers grinned and started singing,

  “Lady with sea-green eyes and dragon-fire hair

  Captured in the twilight of my mind,

  Standing lost beside the weeping trees,

  Far away from all, fair and lovely,

  Lost to all, lost to me.”

  Blood pulsed in my neck, flaming into my cheeks as I listened. This was the song that Frederick, the unpleasant viscount, must have heard. The song about me. Piers continued to sing and my face grew hot.

  Hugh growled and the music stopped abruptly.

  Tristan, red-faced also, stumbled over his words, apologizing. “Please forgive us. This song was not meant to tease. It was never meant for your ears.”

  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t respond.

  Tristan gritted his teeth. “It’s only a song. I must have been melancholy that day, to write something so maudlin.” He raised both hands as if in offering, then tightened his lips and snapped, “Piers, come with me. We have something to discuss.”

  Piers resisted, eyes wide with trepidation, but Tristan’s hand on his shoulder allowed no argument as he was marched out of earshot. Rauf followed, grinning as if looking forward to some earthy amusement.

  James grumbled to Hugh, “This isn’t entirely Piers’s fault. We should have told him immediately when Tristan said he wasn’t competing.” He turned and followed the others.

  Hugh nodded as if distracted. As he moved to join his kin, he paused, looking over toward Chris and me, his face both thoughtful and distant. “It was just a song.” Then he strode away.

  The cave was silent but for the trickle of water flowing and the sound of distant footsteps.

  Engulfed as I was with thoughts of Tristan and songs of love, it was hard for me to think in a rational way. This was not something to pursue. He wouldn’t be competing. He wasn’t even as human as the other man-dragons. Moreover, Tristan had written this before he really knew me, when I was but a chosen princess, chosen for Hugh to be his queen.

  Chris watched, obviously waiting for me to speak. I examined my nails, willing my skin to return to its normal color.

  “Chris, you should leave. Go back to your home where you will be comfortable and safe.” I struggled to keep the misery from my voice.

  “What? Where did that come from? I’m not going anywhere until this is over.”

  I moved to sit next to her, grasping her hands in mine. “You have done your part, more than anyone could have ever expected. You saved me, helped hold me together during this trial and stood by my side through all manner of disasters. There is no more you can do. I’m fine. You cannot stay here forever. You have your own life to attend to.”

  She looked out into the deep shadows of the cave where the soft yellow glow of the lantern’s light didn’t reach. “You’re wrong, you know. I’m not staying just for you anymore.”

  I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

  “Sure, in the beginning that’s how it started, a curiosity, then a challenge. But now it’s become more of a mystery—my being here, I mean. Why me? There are many questions. Too many. I’m not leaving until I figure them out.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to overflow.

  Chris shifted, and a grin crept across her face. “So what did you think about all that?”

  “About you staying?” I asked, hoping that was what she was referring to. “I’m very grateful. More than you can know.” Guilt twisted my stomach.

  Chris said, “Oh, come off it. The song, silly. I saw you look at him. Just a bit in love, are you?”

  “No, not at all. I was caught unaware and I felt uncomfortable. Nothing more.”

  “Admit it,” she said, almost laughing at me. “You have a crush on him.”

  “No.” While I didn’t understand her exact phrase, I knew what she was implying.

  Chris tilted her head. “You play with your hair whenever he is around.”

  “I do not!” I replied. I was a better master of myself than that.

  Chris grinned with a smug cat-that-caught-the-finch look. “Oh, but you do.”

  I dashed that look with my next words. “He’s not entering the contests.”

  “What? Why? I thought, I mean…”

  I lowered my head, unwilling to look her in the eyes. “Tristan isn’t offering for my hand.”

  “But why?”

  “He’s afflicted. He gets trapped for months in his dragon form, much like his ancestors.”

  Chris was silent for a long time. “But he likes you and you like him. I know you do.”

  “He isn’t human. None of them are, but Tristan is truly a dragon for months. Not even able to speak. I would be isolated for months each and every year.”

  Chris seemed to consider that. “Lots of women marry guys who travel part of the year. It’s the same thing.”

  “As the only human in a land of dragons, it would be like being cloistered.”

  “But you like him,” she repeated.

  My voice came out harsher than I had planned. “Leave off. He’s not competing for me. He can’t be reliably human.”

  There was an edge that crawled across her voice. “Isn’t that like not being white enough? Or do you think it is more like a disability?”

  “Obviously, it is a disadvantage. You, yourself, have made that point over and over these last days. What if he never changed back to human? He would be a dragon, not sometimes a dragon, but a dragon forever.”

  “What are you afraid of? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re scared.”

  “Yes, I’m scared. What if his mind becomes that of a beast, what then? I would be wed forever to a…” I couldn’t say it.

  She ignored my comment, fixating on the one thing I didn’t wish to pursue. “You’re not afraid of Tristan. You’re afraid of his difference. You’re discounting him without even a thought just because he’s a little different.

  “You don’t think he’s good enough for you! Not proper for a r
oyal princess.”

  I refused to respond to that. I reminded her, “He has refused to enter the contest. I didn’t decide for him.”

  “But you have. You’ve let him.”

  And she walked away.

  Chapter 36

  Not long after, Chris and I sat out in the afternoon sun, basking in its warmth. We both pretended nothing had happened between us. I was relieved; I couldn’t bear to lose her friendship.

  She wriggled her fingers. “Doesn’t Hugh’s hair just make you want to touch it? That one curl that sneaks over his ear.”

  My mind made a quick leap from Hugh’s russet hair to Tristan’s unruly chestnut thatch. I blushed, shook my head, and banished that image yet again.

  The man-dragons were never far from us, one of them inevitably standing guard nearby. And again they appeared just as I was hoping to ask more about Chris’s gold card.

  Hugh and Rauf strode toward us, and Chris tensed up like a hound catching the scent of a fox, with that alert look of interest and expectancy.

  They bowed. “May we sit with you?” Hugh asked.

  I nodded my assent, although I was discomforted dressed in one of Chris’s shirts over a satin chemise and a dusty skirt. Rauf flopped beside me but Hugh looked at Chris, waiting.

  “Oh sure,” she finally said.

  Hugh placed himself a body’s width from Chris.

  I smiled, trying to make amends for her curtness. “How nice of you to join us.”

  “My pleasure, My Lady.”

  Chris ignored him, looking out to the west as if she could see trouble coming.

  Hugh sighed, looking as uncomfortable as I had ever seen him. “I wish to beg a favor.”

  My body tensed. Had they changed their minds again?

  “Though I had hoped to proceed with the next sword challenge, I request that tomorrow would be kinder to those who fight.”

  I breathed carefully, not wanting him to know I had doubted his word. “Certainly. Is there some reason?”

  Hugh hesitated. Rauf laughed aloud. “Piers’s mouth ran him afoul of trouble. His left eye is swollen shut.”

  Chris eyebrows came down in a vee.“What happened?”

  Rauf’s belly laugh echoed. “Brothers! He walked into Tris’s hand—suddenly.”

  Chris winced. “Is he okay? Is Tristan okay?”

  Hugh responded. “They are both a little battered, but nothing that won’t be better with a night of rest. If my skill is to be tested, I’d rather it not be said I fought from an unfair advantage.”

  I shut my brain from thoughts of Tristan and filled the void with polite chatter. Hugh tilted his head, listening carefully, adding a pleasantry or two and including Chris in our conversation. His manners were impeccable. Even here, removed from court and trappings, his presence was confident and kingly. I was finding it hard to remember why I had been so opposed to him.

  Rauf gently teased me about my oddly combined clothing, eager to put himself forward. “We’re delighted to see you looking so bonny. How might a dragon please a human princess?” he asked. “Is there anything that I might do to make your time here more pleasant?”

  “No, thank you. I’m quite settled now.” I looked down too quickly. How could I be happy this isolated from my family?

  “Ah, but you mustn’t be so sad.” Rauf had seen through my words. “You know we are not ogres, merely dragons, and only the nicest, as you can see.”

  I grinned at his attempt to amuse me.

  Chris crossed her legs and tugged at her wrinkled chemise on which was written the interesting adage, “If you can’t take the heat, don’t tickle the dragon.” Hugh looked over to see how I was taking Rauf’s flirting and then went back to talking with Chris.

  Rauf was persistent. “A woman like you, as beautiful as a summer’s day, deserves to be treated like fine porcelain. While we’re lacking in that in these caves, I believe once we return to our land you will find many things to complement your beauty, as well as many things to love. Certainly, if you chose me I will make that so.” He winked.

  I smiled, but was cautious with my response. I wasn’t so easily bought or flattered. “How kind of you. All of you are being lovely. It’s difficult to select one from such admirable suitors.”

  He mistook my reserve as a challenge, as something to be won over. “It must be hard to leave your previous life behind. What do you miss most?”

  That was an easy question to answer. “Family and friends. My little brother, Harold. He is such a scamp, but I love him dearly.”

  A smile burst across his face as if I had handed him a key to a puzzle. And then it was gone before I could figure out what had happened.

  “Yes, I would feel the same way,” he nodded. “My brothers and cousins are with me much of each year. I can only imagine how great a loss it must be for you.”

  He left after that, with a chaste kiss on my hand, but something in his voice gave me pause.

  Chapter 37

  With every hour that passed, the Pritorians and I settled into gentler dealings with one another. Piers, Rauf, and Hugh all tried to charm us. James watched as if cataloging this for future generations. Tristan stood apart.

  Even though Tristan had withdrawn from the challenges, there remained some discomfort between him and Hugh. A feeling in the air whenever they were together, small roughnesses that would surface and then slough off, leaving behind a residue of tension. Perhaps as brothers so close in age, they had always been competitive.

  With every interaction, I gained insight into the man-dragons and their culture. A firm hand had shaped their manners. There was an ease, a relaxed banter that drew me in as my father’s guard had.

  This night, Hugh, Rauf and James performed an impromptu ballad for us, a break between the tensions of these days. The other man-dragons sat apart, seemingly unconcerned, though Piers appeared chastened and Tristan’s face looked stiff.

  For all their gallantry, they were no different from my brothers with their occasional squabbling. Tristan and Piers, both sporting swollen eyes, seemed to have worked through their difficulties as Tristan accompanied Piers’s lute with a mandolin. Doubtless, the men were attempting to be pleasant, trying to amuse Chris and me. I found my fears drifting away like dry leaves blown before the wind.

  Standing there, I watched them. Rauf, big and burly, a wink and a smile when he caught me looking his way. Piers, exuberant and funny. And Hugh. There were many reasons to choose him. He was the king, a man comfortable with his place in society. He was forceful, determined and smart. Yes, he could be over-bearing, but that might temper with age. His word was good and the men respected him. I smiled, watching him, envisioning myself as his queen. I could be influential in renewing relations with my country—perhaps instrumental in reopening trade. The pleasure I felt surprised me, as I had never yearned for power.

  James and Piers persuaded Chris to learn the steps to one of their country’s jigs. I was surprised that she, a commoner after all, moved so well, though the lesson ended abruptly when she pirouetted, tripped and fell forward onto Hugh. Both of them hesitated, and it seemed to me that Hugh’s hands lingered on her arms before they separated.

  I shook my head and sat down, dismissing my chary thoughts. That was how it was with Chris. Somehow, something always happened to her: she’d hit her head, or fall down a cliff or a branch would leap out and smite her, always something.

  Rauf attached himself to my side, bending my ear with his adventures. I enjoyed his company, his bear-like strength hidden beneath a warm grin.

  Chris rejoined us, legs interlocked in her usual immodest posture.

  As James began playing a haunting melody on a small wooden flute, Chris leaned over and nudged me with her elbow.

  I jumped as Rauf shouted out a request for a new song. He grabbed a drum and hurried to join his brother.

  Chris placed a hand at my waist, calling me back to her. “Remember what I was telling you? Here’s another odd bit. It’s silly, but when
I was little, Nana told me stories, wonderful tales of magical lands, of princes and princesses and dragons. I think that’s why I was so struck when I first heard about you and the dragons.

  “It miffed Nana that I identified with the dragons and not the princesses.”

  Again, I thought, yet another mention of dragons, from Chris’s world, a place where they didn’t exist.

  “I would rush about with a cape for wings pretending I was a dragon, flapping my arms and growling. Once, in a sugar-driven frenzy of confidence, I leapt off our upstairs deck.”

  At my incredulous look, she shrugged and grinned.

  “I was sure I could fly. I spent the next month with my arm in a cast. Mother blamed Nana and her stories; but Nana looked at me from beneath those heavily-lidded eyes of hers and proclaimed, ‘One can’t make an eagle into a dove.’”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She went into a nursing home soon after, where she terrorized the staff with her imperious ways. Still, Nana was a grand old lady. I was devastated when she died last spring.”

  Both of us started as the men’s voices ended their song with a rousing shout. A short time later, Rauf and Piers leapt up, enacting what looked like a particularly silly folk tale from their land—something to do with a flameless dragon and sheep. Before Chris could continue, Rauf came over. “Genevieve, come, we need a pretty lady to assist us.”

  I demurred, but he persuaded Chris to join him and Piers, to play a clever, but lonely, dragon-maiden in their skit.

  Hugh, James and I laughed as they paraded before us, their silly antics designed to amuse. Tristan sat off to the right. Our eyes met and neither of us blinked.

  Later, long past when the moon was at her height, Chris and I fell into our beds and lost the chance to talk.

  ---

  I awoke to whispers outside my door. A look at Chris’s tangled pallet showed she was gone, her sandals missing. Something was disquieting her. I wished again that we had had the opportunity to finish our conversation.