by Delia Castel
A hand grabbed her wrist. Marigold startled. It belonged to a young woman of roughly the same age with pale, blond hair, and cornflower-blue eyes. “If you’re thinking about making your way on foot, don’t. These roads aren’t policed, and it’s dangerous for a girl to venture out on her own.”
“But I don’t have any—”
“I can lend you enough for the entry tax.”
Marigold’s mouth opened and closed. She didn’t know how to respond. While that money would help her escape the gallows and quicken her journey to Habilis, she had no means of repaying the other woman. Eventually, she said, “But I’m broke.”
“No problem.” The other woman pulled Marigold down to her seat and scooted toward the window. “I can wait until you get work and start earning.”
Tears stung the back of Marigold’s eyes. This was the first act of kindness she had received since meeting Holle, the inmate who had helped improve her literacy. She gave the other woman a grateful smile. “Thank you so much.”
She beamed. “You’re welcome. I’m Ella.”
“I’m Marigold.” She cringed. How could she been so stupid as to reveal her real name? She hid her reaction with a smile, which she was sure made her look constipated.
The guard approached. “Two silvers each.”
Ella leaned over and handed the guard the correct amount. He nodded and moved on to the next row.
Tension seeped from Marigold’s body, relaxing her muscles, emptying her lungs, and curving her lips into a smile. “Thanks again!”
Ella launched into a rapid, one-sided conversation, during which she explained that she had lived in Austellus all her life. She had gone to Boreas to buy honeybee silk. According to Ella, the fabric was half the price in the north of the country than in the South. Marigold supposed that was due to the high concentration of bee farms for the production of mead.
“Are you a seamstress, then?” she asked.
Ella’s smile faded, and she rubbed the back of her neck. “I’d love to have my own little dressmaker’s shop. But I only make gowns for my stepmother and stepsisters.”
Marigold tilted her head to the side. She was about to ask why Ella couldn’t just make clothes for other people at home until she could afford her own shop, when the vehicle stopped again. She clenched her jaw. If this was another set of officials, she wasn’t sure how she would cope.
“First stop: Austellus North,” said the conductor. “Next up will be Sigma Central, and following that, Sigmaport, where this stagecoach terminates.”
She turned to Ella. “Is the port far from the center?”
“I’d say it’s a ten minute carriage ride,” Ella replied. “Why? Are you thinking of getting work down there?”
Marigold nodded. Now that she was penniless and owed Ella two silver florins, she would need to find a means of earning money to repay her debt. And there was also the matter of saving for passage on a ship to Habilis. “Is that the best place to look for a job?”
“No. You get a lot of rough types around the docks.” Ella pursed her lips and smoothed down her voluminous, wool skirt. “I suggest waiting until you reach Sigma. You can come with me to Florous, the richest suburb in the capital. That’s where you’ll find all the best inns, taverns, and stately homes. These finer establishments pay more and offer better conditions.”
Marigold’s lips quirked into a smile. It felt nice to have a friend again. Especially one as kind as Ella. They continued talking about life in Austellus. In the eighteen months since Marigold had entered the House of Corrections, Queen Reina of the Dragons had died. The King had married a dragon who claimed to be the daughter of Old King Hydrus of Chrysos. Chrysos was a large island that used to supply dragon gold until the nation fell under a curse nearly two decades ago. Dragon gold was one of the most precious metals in the entire world, known to withstand the fire of even an ancient dragon. According to Ella, the new Queen was more social than her predecessor and held fortnightly parties in the palace.
“Oh,” said Marigold. “That explains why you’re so busy making garments for your family.”
“That’s right.” She sighed. “My stepsisters and stepmother go twice a month, hoping to catch the eye of one of the four Princes or some other dragon nobleman.”
From Ella’s weary tone, Marigold guessed that her stepsisters parents had not been successful. She refrained from asking why the stepsisters were so keen on marrying dragons. It was common knowledge that dragon females were rare and highly sought after. Marigold supposed they were trying to take advantage by offering themselves as alternatives.
The vehicle stopped again. Nearly all the passengers, including Marigold and Ella, stood and headed for the exit. When Marigold stepped off the coach, she found herself in a covered stagecoach station within a bustling city. She stood, mouth slack, gaping at the magnificent buildings. Many of them stood four stories high! Their white facades reflected the afternoon sun, making them shimmer like gold. Her mouth dried. This was so much more sophisticated than Boreas. She hoped that the nobles weren’t as cruel as they were back home.
A black vehicle with silver trim and a matching, dragon coat of arms pulled into the opposite bay. Armed guards, dressed in pristine white, sat on both sides of the driver. Marigold’s mouth fell open. Not even noblemen like Lord Arctos were transported in vehicles as fine as that. Since she didn’t recognize the coat of arms, she relaxed and watched its passengers disembark.
One of them was a tall young man with long, dark blonde hair, and the most startling aquamarine eyes Marigold had ever seen. He was about the same age as her, with the type of face she’d only ever seen in oil paintings. Her jaw dropped. With his high cheekbones, full lips, and square jaw set on smooth, golden skin, she couldn’t even be sure he was human. Under his red, silk jacket and white breeches, she could discern a fit, muscular body. He was far leaner than a bear shifter, but not as wiry as the wolf shifters she’d encountered. His face broke into a dazzling, white smile, and Marigold turned around to see who had caught his attention.
“Ready.” Ella broke her out of her thoughts, pulling two bolts of fabric, wrapped in undyed linen. “Give me a hand, would you? If we set off now, we’ll reach Florus before sunset. On the way, we can stop off at places I think might be looking for workers. Then you’ll have somewhere to stay, won’t you?”
Marigolds eyes widened. Of course! She hadn’t even thought about accommodation. She brushed aside all thoughts of the devastatingly handsome young man, picked up a bolt, and followed Ella out of the stagecoach station.
“Excuse me,” said a soft, deep voice.
Marigold turned to meet those aquamarine eyes. Up close, they were a transparent blue, much like the Golden Sea. Within its depths, flecks of gold radiated from the pupils, mingling with the most exquisite shade of turquoise. A flock of butterflies erupted from the pit of her stomach, making her insides quiver. Heat burned her cheeks, and her mouth dried. She cleared her throat, and replied, “Yes?”
Pink bloomed underneath his tanned skin. “M-my name is Berrin.” With each word, his cheeks became redder. “I-I-I’m here for the festivals. Are you?”
“Am I?” Marigold turned to Ella.
Her new friend giggled. “She’ll be working in one of the establishments in Florus.”
He smiled, revealing blunt, white teeth. The expression made her heart melt. “I didn’t catch your name.”
Marigold glanced at Ella, who gave her an encouraging nod. She swallowed. Normally, she was quite confident with the opposite sex. But this had been the first time such a cultured nobleman had shown an interest in her. And she didn’t even know why, because Ella was far healthier-looking and better dressed.
“I am Marigold.” Her fingers clenched the bolt of fabric. She had done it again. Soon, the entire population of Austellus would know of the young woman called Marigold who fit the description of the fugitive who had bludgeoned her parole officer. It wouldn’t take a genius to work out the true identity of Mer
ry Gold.
Berrin furrowed his brow. His gaze wandered down to her hands, and she wondered if he had expected her to offer them for a kiss. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance… Is there anything the matter?”
Marigold forced to smile. “N-nothing at all. I’m very pleased to meet you.”
“I’m not just here for the festivals, you know,” said Berrin. “I’ve left my academy to join the King’s Regiment.”
Marigolds brows rose. That was an elite fighting force who worked for the royal family. Only the strongest dragon shifters were permitted entrance. She sighed. Her experience with bear shifters in Boreas had left her with a deep suspicion of everyone higher up in society than humans. It was unfair, as she’d never met a dragon shifter, and Berrin appeared pleasant. However, dragons were the nobles who maintained an unfair regime. She struggled for something to say, but her mind went blank.
“Berrin.” The words came from a tall, dark-haired man with a similar build to Berrin. He stood about six feet-two in height, with broad shoulders, encased in the ruby-red uniform of the King’s Regiment. From the amount of medals adorning his muscular chest, she guessed he was a General. The man’s royal blue eyes reminded Marigold of a stormy, winter sea, and his ruggedly handsome, square-jawed face held a stern expression. If he relaxed his features, he would probably look around twenty-six, but he didn’t seem the type who smiled much.
“Polaris!” Berrin beamed. “I’d like to introduce you to a new acquaintance—”
“We must hurry if we are to reach the assessment center before it closes.” He cast a cool gaze over Marigold and Ella then gave a tight smile. “Excuse us, while we take our leave.”
Berrin’s eyes widened. “But—”
“Let us make haste.” His voice held the weight of a man accustomed to being obeyed.
Berrin nodded and spared Marigold one last glance. “It was nice to meet you. I hope to see you at one of the Festival celebrations in Florus.”
Heart sinking like an iron ball, Marigold nodded back. Berrin had been rather nice for a shifter. Obviously, his companion disapproved of Berrin consorting with a human, and one of the servant class. She would make sure to see if she could find work that avoided being seen at the Festival. As a fugitive who was only going to be around until she earned enough to repay Ella and to buy passage to Habilis, it was probably for the best.
Ella bumped her on the shoulder. “Never mind Polaris. He’s always been a bossy breeches.”
“You know him?”
“Actually, I used to know all three of the brothers. Berrin’s eighteen like me, and we used to play together when we were younger. I suppose he’s been away at school for so long, he forgot about me.” Her lips quirked into a smile. “Or he was too busy being dazzled by you.”
Marigold cringed at the suggestion. Maybe Berrin had been passing time until his brother arrived to pick him up. “Oh, stop it.”
“Come on,” said Ella. “We’d better start walking if we’re going to reach Florus before it gets dark.”
They passed a smaller coach that included Florus on its list of stops, and guilt gnawed at Marigold’s insides. If it wasn’t for her, Ella would have had enough funds to pay for a ride home. She glanced at her friend, who carried her thick bolt of fabric with a pleasant smile. Marigold promised herself to do whatever she could to repay the favor.
They continued through the city of Sigma. Ella marvelled at all the well-dressed people, but what surprised her most was the traffic. Mustang-powered stagecoaches, two-horse carriages, open chariots, and even fast, one-horse chaises occupied the cobbled streets. It was so different to Boreas, where the only people who used such conveniences were the wealthy. Most humans at home trudged through the snow on foot, used carts, or rode donkeys. Hours later, when the sun had moved past its zenith, they reached a long, tree-lined road.
“This is Eucalyptus Road, which leads to Florus,” said Ella.
Marigold glanced up. Tall trees with narrow, flat leaves loomed over them, filling the air with a sweet, menthol scent that reminded her vaguely of the pines from home. On both sides of the road, the trees loomed over them, casting a seamless shade against the afternoon sun. To her surprise, Marigold didn’t feel overly warm in her heavy, woolen cloak.
Ella talked about the three Auburn brothers. Their father was the governor of Austellus, and Polaris, the older brother was the youngest General in the King’s Regiment. The middle brother was a socialite called Matheson. Marigold let her new friend rave about how Berrin and his brothers were as handsome as the four Princes. “You’re so lucky to have caught his eye. He’s the type of eligible dragon that would make my stepsisters drool!”
A pang of regret shot through Marigold’s heart, and she stared at her feet. She didn’t want to explain why it would be impossible for her to return Berrin’s interest.
Hours later, as the sun lowered towards the distant trees in the horizon, a carriage stopped on the roadside. The window opened, and a black-haired, harsh-faced woman stuck her head out. “Where have you been?”
Ella’s eyes widened. “My apologies, Lady Brimstone. There was a bit of an incident at the border. Officials—”
The woman jerked the door open and jumped out. As fast as a cobra, she whacked Ella hard on the head. Ella cried out, and the other woman smirked.
Marigold’s heart sped up. “Hey!”
“No,” said Ella in a low voice. “You’ll only make it worse for me.” The driver jumped down, took Marigold’s bundle, and placed it in the boot of the carriage.
Marigold stood by her friend on the roadside, numb with shock. Ella’s strange behavior when talking about making gowns for her family made sense. She was being abused. A lump formed in her throat, and she blinked hard.
“Get inside,” said the woman through clenched teeth.
Ella pressed her lips together and bobbed her head. She turned to Marigold. “It was nice meeting you… Sorry I couldn’t—”
“Now!” roared the other woman, her eyes blazing like crimson flames.
Marigold’s stomach lurched so fast, she staggered back. Another dragon shifter? The driver shook the reins, and the horses galloped down the road.
“What in Igneous was that?” Marigold rubbed at her temple. Right now, she couldn’t tell whether the female was plain evil or whether the cruel behavior was a trait of being a dragon shifter. She trudged after the carriage, which was presumably heading towards Florus. No matter how nice and handsome she had found Berrin, she was glad not to be involved with a shifter.
A vehicle bearing the four dragons coat of arms passed. Its driver wore a uniform of a similar cut to the bounty hunters she had met the night before. Marigold picked up her pace. The sooner she found work and saved up, the sooner she would earn enough money to leave for Habilis. And she would ask Ella to come with her.
Chapter 4
As they left the coach station, Berrin stole one last glance at Marigold. She stood by her companion, eyes downcast, holding the bolt of fabric and looking forlorn. The noon sun streaming in through the roof shutters made her pretty curls shine like spun gold. His heart twisted. “You didn’t have to be so short with those ladies!”
Polaris grinned and ruffled Berrin’s hair. “If you think of two servant girls as ladies, then I am glad you have left the Academy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with St. Fafnir’s.” He smoothed down his tresses. “And since when did we disdain those of a different station in life? Marigold was perfectly lovely.” He glanced over his shoulder. They had reached the other end of the station, and a crowd of people disembarking from the Occidens stagecoach blocked his view of Marigold. “Do you think she will be at the festival?”
Polaris stopped at the carriage adorned with the gold crown insignia of the King’s Regiment, his brows furrowed. “There will be no time for women when you join the Regiment. Are you sure that you’re ready?”
Berrin reared back, mouth agape. “What makes you think—”
“There is no shame in delaying your entry a year.” Polaris waved away the driver and opened the door himself. The interior was a plush, red velvet of a similar shade to his brother’s jacket. He climbed inside and sat. “I was far too young when I joined, and my first few years were a struggle.”
Berrin climbed inside and sat next to his brother. The seats were firmer than the soft cushiony seats of the Academy’s stagecoach. He supposed that the dragons of the King’s Regiment didn’t need such coddline. He frowned at his brother. “Why didn’t tell me you were having a hard time?”
“One does not burden children,” he replied.
A flash of irritation seared through Berrin’s veins, making him twitch. Clenching his jaw, he suppressed a reaction. The age difference between himself and Polaris meant that when his brother joined the regiment at eighteen, Berrin was only eight. Back then, and if he was truthful with himself, even now, Polaris was his idol. While it stung to be referred to as a child, his brother hadn’t meant it to be insulting.
The carriage set off, and they left the covered station and drove through the streets of central Sigma. The sun shone through the patchy sky, casting their golden haze on the pale cobblestones. As usual, the city was a delight to behold. Giant, Eternal-Spring cherry trees lined the Rex Boulevard and created a canopy of glittering pink. Behind them stood buildings boasting classical, limestone facades, adorned with arched windows and stone columns. He sighed. Coming home was a rare occurrence. He’d lived in Fafnir for most of his life. It was a rural island, occupied by St. Fafnir’s Academy, an all-male institution for young dragons.
Berrin cleared his throat. “Why did you find things difficult?”
“Very few dragons join at such a young age.” Polaris rubbed his chin. “It meant that I was training with males as much as a decade older than me. Many had already reached their transformations.”
Berrin suppressed a gasp. Pure-blooded, male dragon shifters reached maturity around the age of twenty-five. Until then, they were only marginally stronger than human males, and they could not transform. In their society, any dragon who had yet to reach maturity was considered an adolescent, regardless of age. Even half-blooded dragons older than Mother and Father who could not transform were not taken seriously in the King’s Court. He ducked his head. In all his dreams of joining the King’s Regiment, he had always imagined training with men his own age. “So you’re saying I should go back to St. Fafnir’s?”