by Nathan Roden
“What are you saying, Lucien?”
Lucien grabbed her arms and pushed her away.
“I have had quite enough of your disrespect. You will no longer use my given name, as though we were two children frolicking in the fields. I am ‘My King’ or ‘your Grace’. “
“What village do you speak of, your Grace?” Jaclyn wrung her hands.
Lucien stepped to another chair and fell into it. He stared out the window.
“Yours, of course.”
“No!” Jaclyn cried.
She ran in front of Lucien and fell to her knees at his feet.
“Please, Lu—My King! You must speak to Lord Sterling! He mustn’t—!”
Lucien pushed Jaclyn away again as he jumped to his feet. He faced away from her.
“Do not dare to tell me what I must do! I advise you to speak to your father. Perhaps he will be able to humble himself before Sterling in a sufficient manner—before it is too late.”
“What is to become of…the dragon?” Jaclyn asked.
“Tomorrow’s moon will be full,” Lucien said. “When it becomes a man—”
Jaclyn put a hand to her mouth and shrieked.
Lucien scowled.
“When it becomes a man, he will be asked before a tribunal to renounce his claim to the throne. And then, he will be tried for treason.”
“And he has been judged guilt already!” Jaclyn cried.
Lucien turned and slapped Jaclyn to the floor.
“Of course, he is guilty!” Lucien screamed. “Would you have it another way?”
Lucien grabbed Jaclyn’s arm and jerked her to her feet.
“Come!” Lucien screamed. “Let us go down to the dungeon, and declare the dragon to be King! Do you know what happens next, My Queen? I am tried for treason and executed! Every member of your family is executed while you watch! And then you are tried and executed!
“Oh, won’t it be grand?”
Tears ran down Jaclyn’s face. She pulled at Lucien’s hand.
“You’re hurting me, your Grace,” she whispered.
Lucien threw her to the floor.
“To hell with you.”
He stormed out of the room.
Jaclyn had never known such misery. She drifted in and out of sleep, sitting in her chair.
She woke to a touch on her arm.
“Is there anything I can do for you, my Queen?” Helena asked. “Can I get you something?”
Jaclyn wiped her eyes.
“No. Thank you.”
“I will turn down your bed,” Helena said. “You must be very tired.”
Jaclyn nodded.
Helena took a step. Jaclyn grabbed her hand. She sniffed, and looked Helena in the eye.
“I have but two friends in the entire world.”
Helena took Jaclyn’s hand in both of her own.
“You are adored by everyone, My Queen. My mother and father say that—”
“I have but two, true friends, in the entire world, Helena. You are one—
“The other will die tomorrow.”
Helena gasped.
“What are you saying, My Que—?”
“My name is Jaclyn. Please, call me Jac—”
“No! I cannot. Lord Sterling would cut out my tongue, My Queen! Are you saying that you…you know…the dragon?”
“Yes.”
Helena’s head fell into her hands. She wept bitterly. Jaclyn put a hand on her shoulder. Helena jumped.
“I am so sorry, My Queen. My heart breaks for you.”
Jaclyn wrapped her arms around Helena, and they wept together.
“My heart has broken for you as well,” Jaclyn said. “These foul, evil men have taken everything from you—for no other reason than their own selfish fears.”
“I must go now, my Queen. I am expected in the kitchen,” Helena said.
Jaclyn wiped her eyes and nodded.
Jaclyn climbed into bed. She slept fitfully and woke in the middle of the night. Lucien had not returned to their bed. Jaclyn was not surprised. She sat up and stared into the darkness. She slipped out of the bed and lit a lamp. She took her jewelry box from the dresser. She dumped the contents onto the bed, and then pried out the false bottom. Inside, was the gift her father had given her on his first visit to the castle after the Royal wedding. The gift was given in secret and without any words.
A slender, razor-sharp dagger.
She considered leaving the room. But she would have to carry a lamp, and there were so many guards that it would be impossible to go unnoticed. She placed the dagger into a drawer of her wardrobe. She sat on the bed and put the jewelry back into the box.
Jaclyn jumped when she heard the door open. The jewelry spilled onto the floor.
“I startled you. I am sorry,” Lucien said. He rushed to Jaclyn’s side and took the jewelry box from her hands.
“I’ll pick these up. It was my fault.”
“It is not a problem, your—”
“I am sorry for the things I said,” Lucien said. “And for…hurting you.”
Lucien held up a locket.
“I will buy you more of these. A Queen should have enough precious things to cover herself, head-to-toe! We will go to the finest shops after—we shall go, very soon.”
Lucien put the jewelry into the box and closed it.
“There. Come, it is time for bed. It has been an exhausting day.”
Jaclyn lay on her side. Lucien put his arm over her and was snoring within moments. Jaclyn shuddered and told herself not to cry.
And she slept.
Thirty-Three
When Jaclyn woke up, Lucien was gone. She had slept past midday. She was disgusted with herself.
When Helena heard Jaclyn moving about she stepped into the room.
“Would you like me to draw your bath, My Queen?”
Jaclyn struggled to pull a hairbrush through her tangled hair. Helena took the brush and began to brush Jaclyn’s hair.
“No,” Jaclyn said. “This is nothing clean about this day. Taking a bath would seem like an insensitive slap in the face.”
“Yes, My Queen. You must be hungry. What would you like me to send word to the kitchen—?”
“No,” Jaclyn said. “I am not hungry. Thank you. You may go, Helena.”
Helena stood.
“I could stay—if it would help you to feel better.”
Jaclyn smiled weakly.
“Thank you.”
She stood up.
“But today, you should stay as far away from me as you possibly can.”
Helena’s eyes grew wide.
“What does that mean?”
“If I live to see tomorrow, we shall discuss it then. Go, now. Say nothing.”
Helena shook her head furiously. She left the room in a hurry.
Jaclyn dressed and stepped out onto the balcony. She looked up to find the sun, but it was hidden in clouds. She had no idea what time of day it was, and she did not mean to ask. She could not believe that soon, Simon Morgenwraithe, the rightful King and her friend, would be sentenced to die.
Jaclyn tried to appear as if everything was normal as she made a circuitous route to the dungeon. Her breath ratcheted from her when she reached the final corridor. She knew that there was at least one guard between her and the dungeon door. She prayed that it was only one.
Jaclyn crept silently along the wall, changing sides to stay as far away as she could from the torches that lined the corridor. She reached the dungeon guard doorway and stopped. She took a deep breath and peeked around the door.
One guard. Asleep. His head back behind him.
Jaclyn slipped inside and drew the dagger. With a trembling hand she lifted the dagger to the guard’s ear. She raised her other hand behind his head.
My life is now over. There is no turning back.
Jaclyn grabbed the man’s hair at the same time that she plunged the blade through his ear. It was over in an instant.
The guard fell to the floo
r. Jaclyn heard the ring of keys strike the floor. She grabbed them up and ran for the door. Several attempts later, her shaking fingers found the key that let her inside.
The body of the dragon hung limply from the chains.
“No!” Jaclyn whispered a scream.
“Simon! Wake up! You cannot be dead! I will not allow it!”
“Jaclyn?” Simon raised his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, thank the gods!” Jaclyn threw her arms around Simon. The keys clattered to the floor. Jaclyn grabbed them up. She began trying keys at the shackle around the dragon’s neck.
“Jaclyn! What are you doing? Where is the guard?” Simon asked.
“I’m getting you out of here!” Jaclyn said.
“But…no, Jaclyn! It is not possible!”
Jaclyn fumbled the keys and they fell to the floor again.
“I no longer care what is possible and what is not!” Jaclyn cried. She picked up the keys and returned to the shackle.
“Go back, My Queen,” Simon pleaded. “Before it is too la—!”
Jaclyn stopped only for a brief moment. She glared at Simon.
“It is already too late! They are coming! Before sunset! They are going to kill you!”
“I know all about it, Jaclyn,” Simon said. “I have made peace with it, and you must as well. You must go now! They will not just kill you, Jaclyn—they will make you suffer! Sterling will make an example of you to the entire Realm! Your family—they will—!”
They both jumped when Helena burst through the door.
“What are you do—? I thought I would find you here!” Helena said breathlessly.
“My Queen,” Helena pointed toward the corridor. “The guard—the guard is dead! Did…did you…?”
“Jaclyn, what have you done—?” Simon asked.
“It is true!” Helena whispered.
“He can speak!”
“You have to go, Helena!” Jaclyn pushed her away. “I command you to go n—!”
“The King is looking for you—I told him that I had seen you walking in the garden,” Helena said. “I do not think he believed me—please, My Queen, you must come away now!”
Jaclyn continued to attempt to unlock the shackle at Simon’s neck.
“No! I will not allow this to happen while I stand by and do nothing!”
Helena wrestled the keys away from Jaclyn. She threw them across the dungeon floor.
“I will not stand here and watch you slaughtered for nothing, My Queen. The King’s men will be here any moment. It is over!”
Helena pulled Jaclyn from the room. Jaclyn drug her feet, but she was too despondent—and far too weak to struggle any longer. Their footsteps faded away up the length of the corridor.
Thirty-Four
Simon closed his eyes. His head hung down. This hurt his neck a great deal—but he had no choice in the matter. All of his choices were a thing of the past.
Time had lost all meaning. He was still alive, but the inevitability of his death turned time into yet another enemy. That was the only thing he would see now, until the moment of his death—
Enemies.
Simon heard footfalls in the corridor—coming nearer. Someone flashed into view and ran across the floor.
It was Helena.
She snatched up the keys from where she had thrown them and immediately went to work on the shackles.
“No, Helena…” Simon whispered.
Helena paid Simon no mind.
“Hold your tongue. You will need your strength.”
“It is over,” Simon said. “Leave—”
The first shackle fell open.
“I will tell you what is over, Dragon Prince. My future inside of this castle—that is what is over! These people murdered my family and left me a servant. To serve the Queen of the Realm is my only mission and purpose, and that is why I am here! Because the Queen only desires one thing.”
Helena stopped momentarily and looked Simon in the eye.
“She wants you!”
Another shackle fell open. And then, another.
“I will stay here,” Helena said. ”When the King’s men come, I will send them in the wrong direction.”
One of Simon’s wings and one of his legs were free.
“You will come with me,” Simon said.
Helena swore at the last shackle. The key broke off inside the lock. The end of Simon’s wing remained tethered to the wall.
Simon roared and jerked against the shackle. His other wing tore free.
“It will mend quickly,” Simon said.
There was shouting in the corridor. The door burst open.
“Get behind the shield!” Simon shouted.
Helena was confused. Simon pushed her with his wing. She tripped and fell. Simon stepped in front of her as twenty soldiers ran into the room.
The soldiers raised bows and swords. Simon knew that the time for thinking was over.
It was time—for war.
Simon opened his jaws and set fire to ten soldiers. He turned to the doorway and burned alive another wave of twenty.
Simon ran to the double doors. If he was to escape, it would be through these. The corridor of the main entrance was too narrow.
He ripped down the chains that held the doors closed. He threw his weight against them. The doors were secured on the outer side and did not budge.
Another wave of soldiers screamed down the main corridor. Simon moved behind the curved-steel shield. He put his shoulder against it and pushed. It barely moved.
Arrows flew through the open door.
Simon roared and charged at the shield. It fell over, blocking the main entrance.
“There is no way out for us, now!” Helena screamed.
“We will have to escape through the double doors,” Simon said.
“But they are locked from the outside. You cannot open them!”
“I will not have to,” Simon said.
They heard voices on the other side of the double doors. Something powerful and heavy hit the doors. Loud echoes filled the dungeon air.
“I have never been so frightened,” Helena said.
“Neither have I,” Simon said.
The soldiers on the floor of the dungeon were all dead. Simon looked at each one. He found the smallest one—who was also the least burned. Most of his face was unmarked.
He was barely more than a boy.
Simon looked at Helena. He pointed a talon at her neck.
“Your locket. Give it to me, please.”
Helena put her hand around the locket.
“Why?” she whispered. “My mother gave it to me. It is…all I have left to remember…”
“I’m sorry,” Simon said.
Helena handed the locket to Simon. Simon placed it near the dead boy’s neck.
“Please, look away,” Simon said.
Helena turned.
Simon opened his jaws and bathed the boy in flames.
The body was unrecognizable. The locket lying near its neck was charred, yet intact.
The sounds of rattling chains came from behind the set of double doors.
“Hide behind the shield,” Simon said. “Do not move.”
Both doors burst open and a wave of soldiers pushed through. Simon blasted the doorway with fire. The screams made an awful chorus. The first wave of men fell dead to the floor. The war cries of the next wave could be heard entering the wide corridor.
Simon stepped into the doorway and a wall of flamed brought about more screams.
Simon’s fire faded, and then died altogether.
More men were coming. Their sound was distant. Simon backed onto the dungeon floor.
“Close your eyes!” he screamed at Helena.
Dozens of charred, dead bodies lied at Simon’s feet. Without fuel, his fire was gone. And the war was lost.
He picked up a soldier in his jaws. He bit down and severed the body in half. In two gulps, half of a man was gone. Two more bites and he fel
t the familiar pressure building again within him as his belly swelled.
Another wave of men cleared the corridor—and went to a fiery grave.
The last young man in the wave threw down his sword. He turned to run. Simon chased him down and caught him within five paces. Simon knocked the young man into the wall.
“Please, no!” the man cried. “I am on your side, King Simon!”
Simon raised his talon high—and left it there.
He lowered it.
“Go. Get out.”
The man scrambled to his feet and ran.
Simon walked back into the dungeon. He walked up to a dead soldier and kicked the helmet from his head. He picked up a shield and the helmet and carried them to Helena.
“Put this helmet on,” Simon said. “And grab hold of this shield. If we are fortunate, they will have one more wave of foot soldiers to send before the King’s Guard comes. We do not want to face them. After the next wave, we make our move. We escape—or we die.”
Helena nodded. The helmet flopped loosely on her head.
The shouts of the next wave filled the corridor.
“I will clear the corridor,” Simon said. “When I return, climb onto my back quickly. Cover yourself with the shield the best you can. Hold tightly onto my neck.”
The next wave was the last of the foot soldiers. It was a larger group, but they were paralyzed by fear. They turned and ran at the first sight of dragon fire.
Simon knelt down next to Helena. She climbed onto his back. Simon stepped into the corridor, lowered his head, and sprinted forward.
His memory of the area was distant. He was only allowed into the dungeon twice by the age of six—because in those days the dungeon was rarely empty.
Simon reached the end of the first leg of the corridor. He turned right and saw a light in the distance.
He heard shouting—the King’s Guard was behind them. Flaming arrows flew past Simon on both sides.