The Red Dragon Girl (Firethorn Chronicles Book 3)

by Lea Doué

  “Sorcery isn’t the answer to everything, you know,” she said.

  Eyes still closed, he grinned. “It’s worth a try.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s unnatural and unhealthy. Look at what it’s doing to you. What it’s already done to you. It’s not too late to give it up, be thankful for your freedom, and find something worthwhile to do with your life.”

  She sounded like her mother.

  He didn’t answer for a long while. Finally, he sighed so softly she almost missed it and whispered, “Perhaps you’re right.” He moved his hand from the orbs, which shone even more brightly than before, the blue glow lighting up his face.

  She stood quickly, her heart pounding. “You’re using sorcery right now. What are those?”

  He didn’t move. “You wish for me to speak plainly?”

  Obviously.

  He continued without an answer. “Sit back down.”

  She crossed her arms. He could talk while she stood.

  “Please?” He didn’t manage to hide his irritation.

  Fine. If he would talk straight, she would sit. Because she wanted to.

  He lifted the orbs and swung them back and forth. “These little baubles are counter-potions to the ones Idris made taken by your sister’s new husband—and by his brother. One for each prince… and one for Sissi.”

  Her eyebrows raised at the unexpected revelation. Not only that he’d made cures for the potion, but that he’d included Sissi, the crazy girl who’d repeatedly tried to harm Gwen and Hazel while they’d been trapped in the woods with her.

  “Where is Sissi, anyway?”

  “She finally got her wish and married a prince.”

  Princess Sissi? “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious. Prince Gower of Maglyn was delighted to accept the arrangement after he learned it came with the… ah… good will of a sorcerer.”

  “But why would you do that for her?”

  “It got her out of my way.”

  Of course. It was always about him.

  Wait a minute. Something Gwen had said came back to her, and her eyes narrowed. “You told Gwen there was no cure for love potions.”

  He spoke slowly, his voice taking on the tone of someone speaking to a child. “These are counter-potions, not cures. I don’t expect you to understand the difference. They were not something I could craft in a short amount of time earlier this summer in order to benefit your sister or anyone else, and I didn’t care to explain at the time. I was in a bit of a rush.”

  What possessed him to bother making a counter-potion? There had to be something in it for him. Didn’t there? But… people could change. His eyes held no deception, but the orbs had been created by or filled with sorcery, either way.

  “I think my family has learned enough by now not to take anything from you.”

  “They won’t be taking it from me. They’ll be taking it from you.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll leave them for you after my business is finished, and you can do whatever you want with them.”

  “I’ll take them for you, if you want.” Vanda had woken.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mel’s eyes widened, and she stared at Vanda where she rested against the tree, still recovering from the attempted kidnapping. Vanda, of all people, should want nothing to do with Tharius and his sorcery.

  “Trust has to start somewhere,” Vanda sad. “Tharius is using sorcery to speed up the process with the orbs—that’s the glow you’re seeing—but any sorcery involved in making the counter-potion has already been infused.”

  Vanda must have learned a thing or two about sorcery over the years from her Gram.

  Tharius cleared his throat, and his cheeks reddened.

  He was blushing. He’d been caught doing something decent and couldn’t handle the feelings that came with having Vanda back him up.

  “Let’s see how things go,” Mel said. At the very least, she could present the offer to her family and let them make their own decisions. “I’m not sure why you want to help them, but I’m not going to question your motives right now. We have more immediate things to worry about.”

  “The dragons need water,” Tharius said abruptly. He untied his and led it off.

  Mel untied the other and followed with Vanda at her side. They found a small stream, and Tharius’s dragon finished drinking first. He mounted, and Vanda settled behind him.

  Slurping and birdsong filled the air.

  “Why don’t you catch up once he’s done?” Tharius said. He waited for a nod from her and then sped off.

  Mel sat on the grass next to the stream and removed her boots and stockings. She dabbled her toes in the cool water and splashed her face. Would the dragon ever fill its belly? It drank like a camel.

  Finally, the slurping stopped. She really hoped all that water didn’t slow it down. After putting her boots back on, she mounted and nudged the rock dragon forward. Lost in thought, she nearly missed the whistle off to her left a few moments later. The dragon veered suddenly, and she gripped the pommel with one hand while pulling uselessly against the reins with the other.

  They had forgotten to check on the injured man in green.

  He appeared beside her on his comrade’s rock dragon, eyes pinched in pain. His lip curled in an angry smirk. Another whistle, rising and falling in pitch, and her dragon slowed.

  She dropped the reins and grabbed a dagger.

  The man leaned forward and grasped the loose reins, pulling her dragon to a stop. Without aiming properly, she threw the dagger, hoping to distract him, and then jumped onto the ground opposite him. As soon as her boots hit the dirt, she ran.

  Heart racing, head pounding, throat dry, she pushed her legs harder than she’d ever done before. How far had Tharius gone? Would anyone hear if she screamed?

  “Tharius!” Her voice cracked. “Van—”

  Something wrapped around her shoulders, jarring her to a halt and jerking her backward. She landed on her back hard enough to knock the breath from her, and she lay gasping for air. A rope. He’d caught her with a rope like a runaway horse.

  His sunburned face appeared over her. “Not the prize I was hoping for, but a prize just the same.”

  She bristled at being called a prize and lashed out with her legs, catching him squarely in the shin. He cursed and stumbled backward. Mumbling incoherently, he yanked her onto her feet and wrapped the rope tightly about her, pinning her arms to her sides.

  The fingers of his good arm dug into the skin above her elbow. He brandished the dagger she’d thrown at him with the other hand, wincing as he lifted the blade and twisted it in front of her face. “Any more noises, and you’ll see just how sharp this is.”

  She had no desire to test him at the moment. Her best bet lay in letting him take her to the king, where she could explain who she was and arrange to be released.

  She had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy.

  He pushed her ahead of him until they reached the dragons and, with a groan, lifted her onto one. With another whistle, the dragons jogged off and headed… north? Was the king not at the tower? She had trouble concentrating on that thought, or any other, while trying to stay seated with her arms bound. Her mind bounced from imagining her captor swooning and falling from his dragon to Baz beating information out of the kidnapper back at camp. Either was possible.

  By the time the dragons slowed to a walk, her stomach clenched with both hunger and nerves, her thighs burned, and her head reeled. Ahead, dots of white and blue materialized among the leaves, growing bigger as they approached. Tents, at least half a dozen, with rock dragons tied among them. Small fires dotted the camp, and her mouth watered at the smell of roasting meat.

  Guards lifted her off the dragon and guided her to the largest tent in a small clearing, where the king’s blue-and-white standard fluttered at the entrance. But instead of ushering her inside, they walked around behind it. The metallic clang of clashing s
words rang out as they rounded the corner.

  Two men sparred, one in a dragon soldier’s black uniform, the other, slightly taller, was dressed as a forester in brown and green. They both stopped at her approach. The taller man dismissed the soldier with a nod and turned his attention to her.

  “Who have we here?” Brow furrowed, he studied her face before his gaze raked over the rest of her.

  She stared right back at him, looking for any indication this man was Baz’s father. A tightly-curled and well-trimmed black beard obscured the lower half of his features, but the eyes, despite their cynical squint, gave him away. She decided to address him first and introduce herself, since he would no doubt figure it out soon enough.

  “Your Majesty.” With her hands bound, she skipped the curtsy but lowered her eyes and bowed her head for a moment, gritting her teeth the whole time. “I am Princess Melantha, Fourth Daughter of Ituria. Will you please have your guards remove these ropes? They are unnecessary, and Father would be most displeased to find out I’d been ill treated by the king himself.”

  He waved the guards away with a flick of his fingers and approached. After sheathing his sword, he pulled out one of her belt daggers and sliced the ropes. She wiggled her shoulders and rubbed her arms to ease the tingling.

  The king didn’t introduce himself in return. He fingered her dagger, twisting the tip into his thumb until a small red dot bloomed, and then returned it to her belt. She took a step backward.

  “I had anticipated a different guest,” he said, his words slow and practiced. Much different than Baz’s easy way of speaking. “But a daughter of Ituria is always welcome for tea.” He swept wide his arm, indicating she should precede him.

  She rounded the tent and entered through the front flap. The king spoke to one of the guards at the entrance and then followed her inside.

  “Please have a seat, Your Highness.” He waved towards two cushions placed at either end of a low folding camp table.

  She sank onto the one facing the entrance and waited for his next move. After joining her across the table, he studied her once again. She tried not to squirm, as he seemed to be counting every freckle.

  “Like what you see?” She couldn’t resist.

  “Indeed.” His expression remained cool.

  A servant brought in refreshments and tea, poured them each a cup, and bowed himself out.

  Despite the hunger gnawing in her belly, she didn’t touch anything.

  “I can see you’re an intelligent woman, so I’m going to offer you a deal.” The king sipped his tea. “My son and heir is in need of a bride—one suited to a man of his station. Someone well versed in court life and all the requirements that come with it, not some tree climber who runs around in the woods calling princes by their first names.”

  Did he realize the second description fit her better than the first?

  “Marry my son, and I’ll let them all go free. Marry Sebastian, and you’ll be queen of Mazereon someday. No more fourth daughter nonsense. You’ll shine like the moon among all the insignificant stars.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. To finally stand out among her sisters… King Lotario seemed to have read her mind. She’d never aspired to be a queen, but what if she took him up on his offer? Turned her back on Orin and usurped Vanda’s place at Baz’s side in order to keep them all safe?

  If she did that, she would no longer recognize herself. Besides, she doubted King Lotario would keep his word. Perhaps he would let Orin go, rather than risk angering the king and queen of Gritton, but Vanda and Gram would be no safer if she followed the king’s wishes.

  “Thank you for your most generous offer, Your Majesty,” she said. “Unfortunately, that is not a deal I can accept.”

  His eyes narrowed and his face clouded with anger. “You prefer the alternative?”

  She refused to ask what he meant. He’d already made the alternative plain through his actions.

  He stood and tugged down his tunic, smoothing out the creases. “I’ll give you some time alone to think about it. I encourage you to make the right decision.”

  Perhaps he didn’t understand that harming Vanda and Gram wouldn’t free his people. “Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but you seem to be misunderstanding how this works. All you need to do is let Baz—”

  “I know what needs to be done,” he said with a sneer. “And Prince Sebastian will do as he’s told. I suggest you do the same.”

  Not likely.

  He walked out, leaving her armed with daggers in an empty tent… surrounded by a few quads of dragon soldiers. How had she ended up trapped again? The farther she ran, the tighter the cords became. She stood and paced, stuffing bits of dry sweet-cake into her mouth as she pondered her next move. She wouldn’t accept being carried along by the king’s schemes.

  At least Tharius had given her a choice. To accept his advice or not. To trust him or not.

  The king offered no choices, but there were still decisions to be made. Her hands were tied now as surely as they had been in the back of the villagers’ wagon. How long before Tharius realized she’d gone missing? Would he turn around and look for her, or would he continue on and get Vanda to safety?

  She thumped back onto the cushion and gulped down a tepid cup of tea. She couldn’t fight her way out. The king refused to listen to her. She threw her cup onto the ground where it shattered against a pebble with a satisfying crash. No one bothered to check on her.

  A moment later, commotion outside the tent drew her attention to the entrance. She tiptoed to the flap and peeked out. Rock dragons, tied among the tents and on the perimeter of the camp, stamped their feet and swung their heads nervously. Several soldiers approached a few and whistled to them, while more whistles sounded around the camp and from the woods. A couple of dragons responded and calmed down, but one jerked its head free of its tether and bolted, catching a tent rope with its tail. Something had spooked them. Something besides a teacup smashing on a rock.

  A small green form whooshed into the room, narrowly missing her head, and landed on the table. It turned and chirped at her.

  “Jade!” She rushed forward and scooped up the dragon. Orin and the others must be near. Perhaps they’d created the confusion outside. She put Jade on her shoulder.

  At the back of the tent, she used her boot dagger to poke a hole in the fabric and peek out. Most of the dragons appeared to be loose, with soldiers shouting and whistling and running to catch them. She sliced a rent just big enough to crawl through—no need to call too much attention to her escape—and slipped out before someone decided to check on her.

  “Which way is Orin?” she whispered.

  Jade tugged on her ear and pointed to the right.

  She smiled and patted the dragon’s head. “Let’s go then, my little genius.”

  She slunk between tents and trees and bundles of supplies, pressing herself close to stay hidden, edging farther and farther from camp. Almost clear, she risked a glance back.

  The king stood inspecting the hole in the tent, his back to her. He whipped around, his gaze raking over the area.

  She gasped and ducked back behind the tree, squeezing herself in among the low branches. If she ran now, he would surely see her, but if she stayed, he would find her. If only she could fly—something she never thought she’d wish for.

  The king shouted something.

  She glanced at Jade and then leaned her head against the tree trunk and stared into the canopy.

  The canopy.

  She couldn’t fly, but she could climb. With no further thought, she hauled herself onto the first low branch. One step after the other, she lifted herself higher, sweat beading on her lip in an effort to not rustle leaves and give away her position. Jade wrapped her tail around Mel’s throat and clung silently to her braid. Mel couldn’t have picked a better tree for hiding, the limbs spaced perfectly for climbing and the leaves thick and lush to keep her out of sight. The rough bark bit into her hands as she wove from one branch
to another.

  More shouting. She glanced down and judged herself high enough to escape notice. Even Keir in his dragon form wouldn’t be able to reach her from the ground. Straddling a branch, she wrapped her legs and arms around the trunk and studied the camp.

  The soldiers rushed to stow the last tent as the king stomped among them barking orders. Half the rock dragons ran amok among the trees, but the soldiers had stopped whistling and a few seemed to be listening instead, gazes trained on the surrounding forest.

  Silence.

  Smart thinking. No doubt Baz had been the one whistling to confuse the dragons, but doing so now would reveal their location. He had to be close, and Orin with him. Had Keir joined them? She scanned the forest floor for movement or other signs, but they’d hidden well.

  “Jade, where is Orin?” she whispered.

  Jade sniffed the air, her snout twitching as she tilted her head from one side to another. Finally, she pointed in the opposite direction as before, back towards their camp by the stream.

  Someone shouted again. The soldiers had the tents packed and loaded onto the dragons, and smoke from doused fires snaked through the air. Efficient. King Lotario mounted one of the rock dragons and four soldiers flanked him—they seemed to have regained control quickly once the whistling stopped. With a signal from the king, the grey dragons sped off with their riders, kicking up only a small bit of dust and leaves. The remaining soldiers followed more slowly with the supplies, until the sound of their passage finally faded away. Did she dare climb down? What if the king guessed she’d hidden and had left behind a spy? She would not be dragged back and imprisoned again. Orin had sent Jade, so he knew she had to be near.

  Wait, she had a messenger dragon. Loosening her hold on the trunk, she pulled the leather cord from the end of her braid.

  “Take this to Orin.” She coaxed Jade onto her lap and tied the cord to her back leg. Jade looked up into her face and chirped. “Find Orin,” she said and nudged her onto a branch.

  Jade glanced back once and then launched into the air. She swooped low over the remains of the king’s camp and then headed southeast.