by Lea Doué
Table of Contents
The Twelve Princesses of Ituria
Map
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Read more in
The Red Dragon Girl
(Firethorn Chronicles 3)
Copyright © 2017 by Lea Doué
Design and Formatting by Damonza.
www.damonza.com
Editing by Laurel Garver
http://laurelgarver.blogspot.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ISBN (print) 978-0-9949113-4-6
ISBN (ebook) 978-0-9949113-5-3
Books 1-3 in The Firethorn Chronicles
The Firethorn Crown
The Midsummer Captives
The Red Dragon Girl
Novelettes and Short Stories
Red Orchid
Snapdragon
Sweet Basil
Contents
The Twelve Princesses of Ituria
Map
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Read more in
The Firethorn Chronicles
The Twelve Princesses of Ituria
Lily
Her Royal Highness Princess Lily, First Daughter and Crown Princess of Ituria
Gwen
Reluctant harp player and lover of horses
Hazel
Collector of sparkly things
Melantha
Twin to Mara, mapmaker, and expert dagger thrower
Mara
Twin to Melantha and lover of all things chocolate and canine
Neylan
Gardener, bookworm, and wearer of dragons
Junia
Healer and fan of all things pink
Coral
Lover of balls and dancing
Azure
Fearless runner and weapons enthusiast
Ivy
Watcher and keeper of secrets
Ruby
Identical twin and painter
Wren
Identical twin, painter, and dragon lover
Chapter One
No one ever told me how lonely independence could be.
Princess Melantha, Fourth Daughter of Ituria, took aim at the tree stump ten feet away and released her dagger, sending it end over end until it landed with a smooth thwack a hair’s breadth from the previous throw.
She spoke to her horse where he grazed in the lush summer grass. “Did you see that?”
Not even an ear flick.
Completely and blissfully alone for the first time in her life, she’d already begun talking to her horse after only a few weeks on her own.
She’d buried the remains of her burnt lunch under one of the few oaks in the meadow, hoping a layer of dirt would be enough to hide the odor of blackened pheasant from anyone passing by on the road. Her twin sister Mara was the expert with food. If Melantha could catch it and skin it, Mara could cook it. But she’d left Mara behind, along with her ten other sisters and their parents. After the humiliation she’d suffered at the wedding of their second oldest sister and the prince of a neighboring kingdom, Mel had slipped away with Mara’s help.
Goodbye, palaces and accusing glances and fickle princes.
She drew another sleek throwing dagger from her belt and aimed again. Thwack. She grinned, satisfied when it landed two inches from the other. Of all the weapons she’d trained with over the years, daggers had become her favorite. Mother pretended not to know about the target board Mel had set up behind a tapestry in the sitting room. While Mel’s sisters practiced embroidery or painted or conducted themselves in ways more befitting princesses—indoors, at least—she practiced dagger throwing. She’d become quite good over the years and could hit her target, still or moving, nine times out of ten using a variety of blades. She couldn’t say the same of her archery skills, and putting a sword in her hand was the same as handing her a cooking spoon.
An elderly couple passed on the nearby dirt road. She retrieved her daggers, although she had six more in her belt, and took a stance fifteen feet away from the stump. She waved. “Good afternoon!”
The woman’s eyes rounded, and the man waved in response, his shirt sleeve flapping enthusiastically. “Afternoon, miss!” he called. They continued walking, with frequent glances back, until they finally disappeared around a bend.
The last few villages she’d passed through had been unexpectedly welcoming. People had stopped her on more than one occasion to ooh and aah over her hair, which she wore in a braid down to her waist. Although she wasn’t a true redhead like her sister Coral, her locks having a more coppery hue, any color other than black or dark brown seemed a novelty in the region. No doubt her pale skin and abundant freckles added to the spectacle.
And then there were the rumors.
She’d chosen to travel northeast to the kingdom of Mazereon because of the rumors of a curse that could only be broken by a red-haired girl. She rarely paid attention to palace gossip, especially since it had begun to include her and Mara and a certain prince who couldn’t tell the two of them apart, despite the fact that they were not identical like their youngest sisters, Ruby and Wren. But having escaped a curse with her sisters earlier in the summer, Mel felt qualified to tackle the challenge and decided to follow the rumors to their source. If she could win herself a place outside of court life, perhaps she might show her face there again someday. If nothing else, the journey would get her out of Mara’s way so that her sister could shine on her own.
She threw both daggers at once and sunk them an inch apart in the stump. She didn’t bother telling her horse.
As she stooped to pull the daggers from the wood, a grey rock dragon rushed by on the road, the rider’s dark cloak billowing and snapping with the speed of their passing. Native only to Mazereon, the wingless riding dragons were far faster than any horse and twice as expensive. She’d love to get a closer look at one someday. Maybe even go for a ride with… well, her sisters were out of t
he question, and some of them wouldn’t go near one, anyway. Her friend Orin would have loved to join her, though.
She sighed. Of all the people she’d left behind, Orin was the one person she missed most. One of the few people, besides her sisters, who listened to her and took her seriously and didn’t laugh behind his hand when she appeared with dirt on her face or stains on her gown.
Prince Orin of Gritton had wandered into the palace less than a year ago and presented himself as a goose boy, complete with pet goose, staff, and ragged clothes. Father had arranged for him to fill in for the royal goose girl while she spent time with her new baby, and Orin had his wages sent to her, having no need of the money himself. Mel had visited him in the field regularly, and he’d gladly shared stories of his adventures, unaware of how envious she’d been of his freedom to travel. He’d seemed thankful for her company. More than thankful. After learning Mel would leave soon for her sister’s wedding, he swore he’d follow her wherever she went, and he had indeed followed her to the neighboring kingdom. She hadn’t been able to tell him goodbye before she sneaked away little over a month before. Probably for the best. A rough-and-tumble princess might make a good friend, but he would want a proper lady by his side when he returned home someday. Not that she was looking to be anyone’s lady. And certainly not Orin’s, of course.
She threw the daggers again, but this time the hilts bounced off the stump, knocking them both into the grass. “Thorns and thistles!”
She retrieved them and then threw them rapidly over and over at close range until a finger-sized chunk of wood chipped off and flew too close to her horse. He startled and snorted. Sighing, she sheathed the daggers in their belt and then dug out an apple from her travel pack. She sat against the tree, swung her long braid to the side to avoid pinning it underneath her, and took a big bite of fruit to ward off the desire to sigh again.
Other than pointing her in a general direction, the last few villages hadn’t shared any more information about the curse. Most likely they had no information to share—by their very nature, curses could be messy, secretive things. All accounts, however, indicated the next village would have the answers she sought. Located at the edge of a vast forest stretching up into the Burnt River Mountains that circled almost the entire kingdom of Mazereon, Greenway was the only village not situated within the protective peaks of the caldera kingdom. The border lay less than a day away.
She finished the apple and tossed the core to her horse, who ate it without a glance in her direction. Ungrateful animal. She leaned her head against the tree, closed her eyes, and tried not to picture her sisters’ faces. Instead, she listened.
Blue jays, chickadees, bobwhites. Butterwings. Smaller than chickadees, the brown dragons rustled through the grass, nosing around in search of bugs. Without opening her eyes, she imagined their yellow wings flashing among the green blades as they loosened dirt with their tiny horns. The horse ripped up great mouthfuls of grass, and a small breeze tickled her cheek. A goose honked.
Her eyes flew open, and she glanced down the road in the direction she’d come from. She recognized that honk.
Silence.
She shook her head. Had her recent thoughts simply made her imagine it?
Hwonk!
She hadn’t imagined it. That was Orin’s goose, True. Before Orin’s blond head could appear on the horizon, she jumped to her feet and raced through the tall grass towards the edge of the meadow. Panting, she threw herself under a clump of honeyberry bushes and stretched out on her stomach facing the road. Orin didn’t need her in his life any more than her sisters did. Besides that, she wanted to complete her mission without relying on her status as a princess. Orin’s presence might give that away.
Something rustled behind her in the woods, and a dark-cloaked form disappeared among the trees. She’d disturbed a hunter’s resting spot, or else someone had decided to shirk their duties for the day. As long as they didn’t give her away, she wouldn’t tell.
Stomach churning, she propped her chin on her hands and peered through the grass. Her horse grazed in the shade, unconcerned with being left behind. Orin wouldn’t recognize it, as she’d changed mounts a few times since leaving him behind, and her saddle and gear had no royal colors to identify them. She sighed with impatience, eager to see her friend after such a long absence, even if he wouldn’t see her.
Could he travel any slower?
There! A dun-colored horse moseyed down the road, carrying both Orin and True, who sat on a blanket in front of him. Mel snorted, a broad grin spreading across her face. He’d followed her. He’d actually followed her. She bit her cheek, not wanting to show how pleased she was to see him again, even though there was no one to see.
True honked a couple more times as if making conversation. Mel waited for them to pass by. She would have to camp in the woods for a few nights to be sure he’d moved on from Greenway. A minor delay.
She studied them as they passed, the grass obscuring the dun’s legs so they almost appeared to float by on a green sea. They hadn’t reached her tree yet. True studied the countryside, her white feathers as pristine as usual. Orin, wearing a sandy-hued shirt and trousers, blended in with the horse’s coat, his blond hair windblown and dull with travel dust. On such a short horse, his lanky form seemed especially gangling.
He stopped at the tree, his gaze raking over her campsite. He spoke to her horse, but she couldn’t make out the words. The beast raised its head. Of course it would respond to Orin. Four-legged traitor. Orin glanced across the road and then his gaze followed the path of bent grass she’d created while running, until it rested on the woods near her hiding spot.
Keep moving. Nothing to see.
He dismounted and lifted True off the blanket. The goose disappeared among the flowers and weeds. With frequent glances at the woods, Orin walked around the campsite. He patted her horse as he passed by and then stopped, staring at something on the ground. He knelt down, disappearing from view for half a minute, and then stood and placed his hands on his hips.
“Mel?” His voice shushed over the tops of the grass blades and tickled her ears.
She gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth. How did he… ? He had to be guessing.
Something rustled in the underbrush on her right. “Shoo, bunny,” she whispered and patted her hand on the ground to warn the unseen critter away.
“Melantha?” Orin called again.
The critter drew closer, and she flattened herself on the ground.
Hwonk!
True! Dratted goose. “Go away,” she whispered. True limped into view. As soon as she saw Mel, she rushed forward, honking and flapping her wings. Mel patted the goose’s head and stroked her back until she calmed down. “Good to see you, too, old girl.” She rolled onto her back, and True climbed up and settled on her belly.
The sound of Orin’s boots clomping and crunching through the meadow reached her ears. A few moments later, he stood over her, a small furrow between his normally-smiling blue eyes. She took in a quick breath against the sudden sensation of falling. Like the tickle she got in her stomach when she jumped off a tree and dove into the lake back home. Only now she was lying down, looking into her friend’s eyes, and grinning like an idiot.
She’d tried not to grin, but she couldn’t help it. It was Orin.
“You’re hiding from me?”
She flinched at the hurt in his voice. “I fell asleep… beside this bush.”
He snorted and one side of his mouth quirked upward. “Nice place for a nap.” Flopping onto the grass beside her, he lifted True off her stomach. The goose wandered away to graze, and she sat up and faced him.
“It’s good to see you again.” She cleared her throat. “Have you been following me this whole time?”
He shrugged. “You had a few days head start on me, and you know I’m not as good a rider, or I would have caught up sooner.”
She glanced at his horse and grinned. “You’re riding a pony. No wonder it took you
so long. What’s her name?”
He stuck his nose in the air. “Clever is a small horse.”
“Clever? And True the goose.” She admired his ability to pick out the best, and sometimes overlooked, qualities in both animals and people.
“Yes.”
“The blanket is a smart idea. True likes riding?”
“She tolerates it.”
“Did you bring me some of Mara’s chocolates?”
He grinned. “Yes.”
So he’d talked to Mara, but how much did he know? She ran her hands over a clump of grass and began braiding strands from the roots up.
He leaned forward and picked a twig from her braid. “Are you going to tell me why you ran away?”
“I didn’t run away. I…” She hesitated. His eyes pleaded for the truth. “All right. I ran away, but only because I didn’t want to be chased by a bunch of princes wanting to marry me.”
Orin nodded thoughtfully and yanked a handful of grass. He twisted the blades together, eyes intent on his fingers. “So… that’s all? I would have thought you could handle a few unruly suitors.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What did Mara tell you?”
“A little more than not much.” He pulled up a yellow wildflower, roots and all, and plucked petals from it one by one as he spoke. “Seems you got quite a few proposals after I rode off to say goodbye to Yarrow.”
Mel had missed saying goodbye to Yarrow herself. Her sister Ivy’s bodyguard, a former sorcerer, came and went at odd times, but the two seemed to have an understanding.
“Four proposals too many, if you ask me,” she said.
“Four?” He glanced up sharply, eyes wide.
“I botched the first one so badly, I don’t even know why the other three asked. It was humiliating, Orin. For me and Mara.”
“And for Prince Argento, going by the gossip.”
“Ah, yes. Poor Prince Argento of Oji.” She tore the grass braid out of the ground and unraveled it. “He sent me—Princess Melantha—a message to meet him in the garden after the wedding. I thought he wanted to talk about Mara. He’d been making calves’ eyes at her all week, and she seemed to enjoy the attention. He never met with either of us alone, so I saw every batted eyelash and accidental shoulder brush.”