by Lea Doué
“Neither of you are engaged, so I take it the meeting didn’t go well.”
She tore the grass to bits and sprinkled it over her boots. “The garden was so dark, I almost walked past him, but he grabbed my hand and stopped me. He rambled on and on about his feelings and how he wished Mara would have given us time alone and not talked so much about daggers and hounds and dragons and other such unladylike things… and then he asked me to marry him. Me. He’d sent the note to me, thinking I was Mara. He’d mixed up our names.”
“Mara did mention that.”
“Who asks the wrong person to marry them?” Her voice rose higher than she’d intended, and True poked her head out from under the far side of the bush with an inquisitive honk. “I tried to laugh it off, but once he figured out his mistake, he accused me of fooling him on purpose. Why else would I agree to meet with him in the dark?”
Orin ripped the remaining petals off the flower and scattered them onto her boots as well. “Gossip had you and Mara switching identities on purpose in order to jilt him.”
“And apparently, I was the mastermind.” She sighed. “There shouldn’t have been any gossip. Mara and I promised not to say anything, so it had to be him spreading the story. Mara really liked Argento, Orin, and I ruined it.”
“Sounds to me like you saved her.”
Her irritation lessened a bit at his attempt to be supportive. “Even after all that, three more men proposed—one of them a prince—just because I’m the next eligible princess in line. I’m only two minutes older than Mara, and I’m taking attention away from her. From all of them. I don’t belong cooped up in a palace or a fine country manor. Can you see me trying to manage staff and order meals and entertain guests and whatever else it is Mother does?”
He glanced at her sideways. “Maybe.”
She shook her head. “Mother will expect me to marry and settle down, just like Lily and Gwen and Hazel.” Lily and Hazel weren’t married yet, but they would be soon. “I can’t see myself in that role.”
“Is it the married part or the settling down part you’re against?” Orin stretched out his legs and leaned back on his elbows. He looked like a long, lean patch of sunlight.
“Does it matter? I’m here now, and I’m guessing Mara told you ‘a little more than not much’ about that, too.”
He grasped the end of her braid and swished it in the air. “Just a little, red-haired girl.”
“All right, then, you know why I’m here. Now it’s my turn.” She smiled. “Why did you follow me?”
He folded his hands under his head and stared up at the sky. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
That falling feeling again. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Well, you left first.”
“I only left for a few days to see Yarrow off.” His gaze locked onto hers, blue eyes reflecting the clear sky. “As far as I knew, you left forever. I couldn’t bear not seeing you again without saying goodbye.”
She’d wanted to see him one last time, but the accusing eyes of Prince Argento and the other courtiers had taunted her everywhere she turned. Better to leave and let the gossip die down so Mara and her other sisters could carry on as before.
“So… goodbye, then,” Orin said and stood up.
“What?” She squinted up at him. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
He stared at her for a few moments, his expression unreadable. “This quest you’re on… it’s dangerous. Come back with me.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and she stared off into the woods. “You know I won’t do that.”
“If it’s the prince you’re worried about, surely you can smooth things over.” He paused. “Your sisters miss you.”
“Please spare me the guilt trip. If I married, they would miss me, anyway. I was bound to leave eventually, and I’d rather it happen on my own terms.”
He didn’t respond. She waited, not expecting him to give up an argument easily. When she glanced up, he’d turned away, arms crossed.
“Orin—”
“I miss you, too, Mel.” He shrugged without turning around. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“And you’re mine,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”
He shifted from one foot to another. “So… now what?”
She didn’t want him to leave without her, but would he stay? “Well, you still have my chocolate from Mara.”
“Ah, yes.” He faced her. “And she made me promise not to let you eat it all at once.”
“Did she?”
“How long do you think it will take to finish it? You know, if you don’t eat it all at once.”
She stood and stomped her feet to wake them up. “Could take a while, if it’s rationed carefully.”
“A few days?”
“Maybe longer… if you don’t mind tagging along while I try to break this curse.”
A tentative smile appeared and then vanished. “I can’t make you change your mind, can I?”
She shook her head. “You had no intention of dragging me back to the palace, did you?”
“It was worth a try, but I have no intention of ever dragging you anywhere you don’t want to go.” His expression sobered. “I know what it’s like to feel out of place in your own family. You feel people are seeing you for the wrong reasons. I felt like no one saw me at all.”
Prince Orin, Eighth Son of Gritton. As the middle child of the king’s second wife, he knew a thing or two about growing up in a large family. She’d heard story after story of Orin being politely despised by his step-brothers, who knew their father favored his second wife, whom he’d married for love; of him being ordered around by his over-indulged younger sister, the only princess in the family; and of him being lorded over by his older brother, who was heir to their mother’s fortune. He’d never found a place to belong, either.
“Well, I see you.” She looped her arm with his and they headed back to the horses. “And right now, I see you giving me some of that chocolate before we continue on.” True waddled behind them in the tamped-down grass.
Orin tossed his saddle and supplies into the shade and laid his weapons more carefully beside them before joining her against the tree. True climbed into her lap and curled up for a nap.
He handed over a small piece of chocolate. “I swear she’s been pining for you this whole time.”
She glanced sideways at him. “I missed her, too.”
They spent the next hour catching up—while Mel ate some chocolate—spinning grand adventures out of thrown horseshoes and sudden rainstorms and spoiled food. Orin slipped farther and farther down the trunk as he talked, until he ended up lying on the ground and gesturing with his arms in the air, finally dozing off during her story about a bat-infested inn.
Mel’s sides ached from laughing, and she sighed contentedly. She hadn’t had a good laugh since… well, since leaving Orin behind. She folded her arms, resisting the urge to brush the dust from his hair, and let the droning bees and warm air lull her to sleep.
Orin nudged her awake sometime later, the sun only marginally closer to the treetops. She blinked and frowned up at him.
“Something’s bothering True.”
Startled, she bolted upright and glanced around for the goose. True limped towards them from halfway across the meadow, flapping her wings. She stopped, stretched out her neck, and honked loudly. The horses rested unconcerned in the shade. Mel took a deep breath and released it, reassured that no razor-tail dragons had ambushed them. Although rare, thanks to the regular patrols of dragon soldiers, the aggressive wolf-sized dragons were universally feared.
Orin nodded towards Mel’s earlier hiding spot. “She’s been back and forth twice now to that clump of bushes. I think she wants to show us something.”
Weird goose. Mel squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of what True was after. “Might as well oblige the lady.”
As soon as she saw them approach, True led the way to the honeyberry bushes. Mel’s mouth watere
d, but the blueberry-like fruit had long been out of season. The goose stopped and poked her head in among the leaves at the base of a bush.
Mel nudged her out of the way and parted the branches. “Well, look at that.”
Dragon eggs.
Chapter Two
Mel knelt in front of the bush next to True, and Orin joined her. Three dragon eggs, each about four inches long, lay nestled in the dirt, their mottled green-and-brown shells blending into the shadows. The bumpy walnut-shell texture, along with the color and size, gave away the species. She’d helped raise and train a few last year at the palace.
“They’re messenger dragons,” she said. “But they never lay in threes. Or on the ground.”
“Think someone poached them and had to ditch last minute?”
A memory flashed through her mind of the dark-cloaked figure who’d disappeared earlier. The eggs hadn’t been there before, so he must have returned. She mentioned it to Orin. “But handlers don’t buy from poachers. Maybe he thought he had something else and left them behind when he realized the mistake.” No one would pay for them, as average citizens lacked the knowledge and time to raise and train the highly curious little dragons, which tended to become destructive when bored. She pushed True back. “You can’t sit on them, you ninny.” True grumbled and ignored her, craning her neck underneath the bush’s bottom branches and nudging out an egg.
Orin stood and studied the woods and surrounding countryside. He glanced at his goose. “True, get away from those. The parents are going to come back soon.” He tried to roll back the egg True had just freed, and she pecked at him. “Ouch!” He tucked his hand under his arm.
“Actually, messengers don’t stick around after laying.” Mel helped True liberate the other two eggs, since leaving them behind seemed out of the question. “Sitting around on eggs is boring, which is why they carry them for so long. The newborns are fairly independent. Flying, hunting—they can do it all within hours of hatching. They’re really smart.”
“What are you doing?”
She handed Orin an egg, and he cupped his hands around it instinctively. “Carry this one, will you?” She cradled the other two and headed back to their tree. True followed at her heels, apparently content that her wishes were being followed.
He hadn’t moved. “We can’t take a clutch of eggs with us. This is ridiculous.”
“Are you going to tell your goose she can’t have her babies?”
He jogged to her side. “What does True know about raising messenger dragons?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach her.” She glanced at him sideways and smirked.
“Very funny,” he said, but he chuckled. “You really want to take these eggs with us?”
“Why not? They’ll hatch soon, and then we’ll have our own messengers. Think how convenient it would be to be able to keep in contact with people at home or send notes to nearby villages when our horses throw a shoe.” Her sister Neylan, who had a tendency to wear some of the smaller dragon species in her hair, would be jealous. “And, seriously, I don’t think True will let us leave them behind.”
He frowned. “They sound like a lot of work. If you really want to keep them, we could detour to a town large enough to have a proper handler to help us.”
“We can just as easily detour after we visit Greenway. And the dragons will be fun. You’ll see.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded but said no more.
She sighed, understanding his desire to keep her safe, but breaking the curse would be a piece of cake compared to the one she and her sisters had faced a couple of months before. Nothing could be as tangled as that one.
Back at the tree, Orin arranged a blanket nest on the ground, and True settled on top of the eggs.
Mel stood with hands on her hips, staring at the proud new mother. “We’ve got a problem.” She swung her braid forward over her shoulder and flopped onto the ground. “How will we carry the eggs? Our packs will squash them, and wearing a sling while riding isn’t much better. We need a basket. Something for the eggs and True to ride in. The blanket nest is fine for her, but the eggs would roll right out. I don’t suppose you know how to weave?”
“I’ve seen it done. How hard can it be? We just need something to get us to the village where we can buy a proper one.” He jumped up and jogged towards the woods, shouting over his shoulder, “Come help me get some branches.”
Shadows lengthened and three more people had passed by on the road by the time they returned with a tangled mass of vines. Mel stripped leaves while he cut shorter lengths and tried to wrestle them into shape. She finished before he’d managed anything recognizable.
“Maybe we could trade a couple of blankets for one of those pack baskets some of the locals carry on their backs,” Mel said. She watched his long fingers twist the vines. Strong fingers with broken nails and scratches from forgetting to wear his gloves. “Want some help?”
He wiped beads of sweat off his upper lip. “I’ve got it, thanks.”
She stood and walked towards the road. No harm in asking for a trade, if anyone passed by.
An hour later, she’d resorted to throwing daggers again to pass the time, and Orin’s basket resembled a platter with egg-sized holes. Out of the half dozen people she’d approached, none of them had the pack baskets.
“We’re obviously heading in the right direction,” she said. “Did you see the way they all stared at my hair? One lady looked ready to burst into tears.” She sheathed her daggers and joined Orin in the shade.
“They must be as eager to have this curse broken as you are to break it.”
“Mmm. If only they could tell us more about it.”
“We’ll know enough by tonight, no doubt.” He sighed loudly, almost a growl, and slammed the platter basket onto the ground. “I give up. We’ll have to use slings and walk the horses. I can’t see any other way.”
“I can.” She stood and tugged on his sleeve, nodding towards a young woman approaching fast from the direction of Greenway… with a pack basket on her back, her short brown hair bouncing against her shoulders.
They waited side by side next to the road. The woman slowed when she saw them, and Mel took a moment to study her. Tall and brown-skinned, she wore faded black leggings and a form-fitting sleeveless tunic of the same color. Leather straps circled her shoulders, holding the rectangular pack basket close to her back. Even from a distance, something seemed different about her.
She stopped unexpectedly about ten feet away, and her gaze strayed first to Mel’s hair before snapping back to her face. “Some of the villagers mentioned a couple on the side of the road in need of a basket.”
Mel shifted and her face warmed. She and Orin weren’t a couple, but the villagers had no way of knowing that.
Orin followed the girl’s lead and got right to the point. He nodded in True’s direction. “My goose has some eggs she’d rather we didn’t eat, and we need a way to safely carry them. And her, too. Bad foot. Any chance you’d do a trade with us?”
Keen brown eyes, wary and observant. Lips pursed in thought. That’s what set her apart from the others. She didn’t smile.
“You can have it.” The girl shrugged off the basket and swung it around, placing it near the edge of the road. “Just promise me you’ll turn around and go back the way you came.”
“What do you mean?” Mel asked. “Why?”
The girl frowned, opened her mouth as if to say something, and then closed it. She sighed and kicked a pebble. “You can’t break the curse. You’re not… the one. And you’re walking into a dangerous situation.”
“What do you know about it?” Orin asked. “And how can she not be the one? There’s not exactly an abundance of red-haired girls around here.”
“It’s complicated, and I don’t have time to be here right now.” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but you need to turn around before you have no choice in the matter. I have to go.”
“Wait!” Mel jogged to catch up with her. The girl was fast. “Take my gloves. Everyone can use a good pair this time of year.”
She stopped and considered Mel with a confused expression.
Mel pulled her gloves from where she’d tucked them into her belt and held them out. “Dragon-wing leather. They’ll stretch to fit.”
The girl hesitated, glancing at her own fingerless wool gloves.
“It’s not a bribe, although I do wish you could give us more information.” Mel held out the gloves further. “Please take them. In trade for the basket.”
After a long pause, the girl took them, absently fingering the soft material. “I want to tell you more, but I have to go,” she whispered. “There’s no time.”
Mel nodded, wishing she understood her urgency. “Thank you.”
Before she’d finished speaking, the girl had turned again and hurried up the road.
Orin inspected the basket. “I’ll have to adjust the straps, but they have buckles, so it should be easy enough. Looks like you need a new pair of gloves.”
“Mm-hmm.” Once the girl disappeared from view, Mel joined him.
The basket was about two feet deep and wide enough to hold a goose. Mel readied the horses, while Orin layered a couple of blankets inside the basket and settled True in with her new babies.
“Are you sure you want to keep going?” He threaded rope through a few holes in the top of the basket to keep True secure. “There’s no shame in turning around.”
“Of course I want to keep going, but we’ll be careful. We stay long enough to find out what’s going on, and if I can’t help, as she implied, then we leave.” She’d come too far to turn back now.
“All right, but we’ll be careful, like you said.” He gestured towards the basket. “Help me get this on? I don’t want to bump anyone.”