by Lea Doué
“I’ll light a candle.” She retreated to the kitchen and fumbled around for a flint.
Keir fetched one from a shelf and, with shaky fingers, handed it to her.
The light from the candle woke Wist, who flew to the counter.
Keir leaned on the table, palms down and breathing heavily, as if he’d run all the way from the beach. She glanced back and forth between the window and his face, full of pain and grief and… anger. The last of the daylight slipped away, and he remained in his human form, but his hands still shook. She reached out to him, but as soon as her fingers touched his, he jerked away and bolted. She couldn’t keep up, and he slammed the door before she could say a word.
It had worked. So why didn’t he stay?
Chapter Nine
The next day, Neylan and Keir sorted through books and scrolls in the library until early evening, taking notes and speaking only of what they found… or didn’t find.
No matter how she tried to draw him out, he refused to talk about the incident in the kitchen or how it had felt to remain in his human form after sundown. She’d known it would work, that the soldier-king’s amulet buried beneath the tower would neutralize the curse, and she wanted him to try again. But she wouldn’t push him.
After supper, half an hour after they dove back into the dusty collection, Oswald knocked on the door and entered with a rope slung over one shoulder, a bridle over the other, and a messenger dragon on his forearm. “For Your Highness. I’ll be in my workshop behind the stables. Ysmay will be here and there until sunset, if you need anything.” He passed the dragon to Neylan, bowed, and left.
Wist zipped over to Keir’s shoulder and hid behind his neck, peeking out at the newcomer.
“Is that Hunter?” Keir asked.
“No-o-o,” she said, dragging out the word as she processed what that meant. The dragon didn’t seem the least concerned that Keir was in the room. She scratched its chin. “This little guy doesn’t seem at all frightened of you like the other one.”
Wide-eyed, Keir inched his hand forward until his fingers touched the dragon’s back and gave him a good scratch—until Wist chirped and demanded his share of attention.
Without looking at Keir, she muttered, “I told you the tower neutralizes the curse, didn’t I?” She didn’t give him time to answer, turning her attention to the dragon. “Message, please.”
The dragon untied the tin cylinder from his hind leg and handed it over.
“Thank you.” She patted his shoulder. “Food and water in the kitchen.”
He flew off, tucking his wings as he exited the door, and then glided downstairs. Wist darted after him.
She scanned the short note and then read it aloud. “It’s from Vanda: Read one book already. Dry as dust. Hope search is going well. Ball day after tomorrow. See you soon.”
Keir cleared his throat and flipped a page in his current book.
She tucked the note into her belt pouch. “I’ll send a reply and assure her we’ll return in time.”
He flipped another page. And then another and another.
“You still don’t want to attend, do you?”
He glanced out the window at the waning sunlight and then flipped another page. “Don’t you like it here?”
“Whether or not I like it here isn’t the point. Why are you so determined to stay?” She sighed. “Hiding here won’t solve anything.”
“Going back to the palace won’t solve anything, either. There’s no reason for me to attend any more balls.”
“What do you mean? Of course there is. You’re the reason Baz and Vanda organized all these celebrations.”
“I don’t need any of those other ladies. I’ve already got the best chance of breaking my curse sitting right in front of me.”
She swallowed. Why did his eyes have to be so piercing? “Yes, well, even so.”
He balled his hands into fists.
“It’s not like I won’t be there, too. We can have some of the crates delivered to the palace and continue sorting them there.”
“Can’t do that.” He glanced out the window again. “There could be spelled objects inside, and those should remain here.”
“We’ll only have books delivered. We can—”
He slammed his fists on the table and whispered fiercely, “I’ve already chosen my red dragon girl.”
Although his brow was pinched in anger, his eyes glistened with tears.
She swallowed and then whispered, “A lot of good I’ve done you.” Perhaps if she tried a different direction. “You still need to be there for your friends. As far as everyone else knows, this ball is for Baz, to celebrate his coronation last summer.”
He stood quickly, the armchair screeching against the floor, and mumbled under his breath, his jaw tight. “Baz is the reason I’m cursed.” He stormed out the door, smacked the opposite wall with the flat of his hand, and thundered down the stairs.
She stood and ran after him, heart pounding. He shouldn’t transform while he was angry, because… well, he just shouldn’t. She couldn’t bear the thought of him spending all night as a beast with any kind of misunderstanding between them.
Ysmay passed her on the third floor landing, heading upstairs with a lit lantern. “If you don’t need anything else, Your Highness, I’ll see you in the morning.” Seeing Neylan’s haste, she added, “He’s cutting it close tonight, isn’t he?”
“A little. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.” She rushed on, and the lantern light faded, plunging the staircase into the gloom of dusk until she reached the kitchen, intent on speaking with Keir before he transformed.
The thump of the outer door slamming closed sounded as loud as thunder.
As she ran across the room, she tripped over a rag rug, bumped her hip on the corner of the table, and knocked over a ladder-back chair. There was no sign of the messenger dragon.
Once she reached the front door, she doubled over and sucked in a few deep breaths. As soon as she could breathe without feeling like her heart would jump from her mouth, she turned the handle and yanked hard. The door squealed open, making her stumble. She slammed it behind her and sprinted out onto the lawn.
Day had gone, leeching all color out of the meadow and leaving behind a washed-out grey-green palate. What she wouldn’t give for the brightness of the moonlight garden.
“Keir!” He would have transformed already, but she called for him anyway.
Wist appeared around the curve of the tower, barely visible as a darting shadow against the obsidian, and nearly collided with her head. She stumbled out of his way and bumped into the door. He backtracked and landed on her shoulder with a squeak, where he huddled up close to her neck, shivering.
She scanned the sky but saw only a dash of stars. Crickets and frogs had taken up their night songs. Everything seemed in order, but there was no sign of Keir.
A great whoosh sounded overhead, followed by the scrape of talons on roof tiles. She backed away from the tower. Keir’s dragon form appeared as a darker shape against the sky, definable more by the stars he blotted out than anything else. More scraping grated against her ears like fingernails on a stone cutting board, and then he roared.
She’d never in her life heard anything so ferocious, and she cowered on the ground with her hands over her ears as the sound vibrated her bones. Keir wouldn’t harm her… but an angry dragon-man she wasn’t so sure about. Accidents happened.
Wist’s tiny talons dug into her neck until a drop of blood trickled down her collarbone.
Even after Keir quieted, she stayed on the ground, unwilling to draw attention to herself. A few seconds later, his wings beat against the air and carried him away.
Once the night creatures found their voices again, Neylan stood. She wouldn’t see him until morning, unless he returned in his dragon form. Her knees shook at the memory of his roar. Surely he could be heard all the way to the village.
Wist still shivered as she turned back to the door. It was stuck again, so sh
e pushed and shoved and threw all her weight against the wood. She banged and yelled, hoping Ysmay might come downstairs for a glass of water and hear. A few minutes later, sweating, she circled around until she stood underneath the window of Ysmay and Oswald’s bedroom on the fourth floor.
She brushed her hands in the grass until she found a pebble and threw it at the glass, calling, “Ysmay!”
The rock landed two floors short of its target.
She threw another and another, but they tapped against the obsidian well below the fourth floor.
Wist perked up and joined the game, digging in the dirt for stones and flinging them at the tower’s base.
Plink. Plink. Plink.
“Ysmay!” Even with the window closed, the caretaker should have at least heard Keir, yet she hadn’t bothered to peek out and check on him. Perhaps she was accustomed to such nighttime grumblings.
She grabbed Wist’s small pile of rocks, backed up a few steps, and threw the entire handful at once. They pattered like hail against the stone, and one or two might have reached the third floor. It was hard to tell in the dark.
After retracing her steps to the front of the tower, she tried the door again and again and again, until her shoulder warned her to stop. She leaned against the smooth obsidian and slid to the ground. She would have to wait for Oswald to return.
Wist climbed underneath her hair and tucked himself in, hiding away from the cool sea breeze. She wrapped her arms around her knees, wishing she could do the same. A tent would have been welcome. Gram’s guards had had tents.
She smiled. Gram was hardly a formidable foe, having both taken the sorcerer’s tattoo as an apprentice and given up the practice within the span of a few weeks. But Gram’s mother had been a sorceress, and Neylan was counting on Gram to know something useful, regardless of her lack of formal training.
As the moon rose, Neylan’s eyelids drooped, and she eventually dozed—but only until she rocked sideways and nearly fell over. She startled awake and shivered. Where was Oswald? She had no desire to sleep outside all night. Even the horses had better quarters than she did at the moment.
The horses! She sat up straight and stared off into the distance where the rock dragon stables nestled somewhere against the woods. Oswald must still be in his workshop. She stumbled to her feet and started forward, guessing at the general direction. The meadow grass tugged against her legs, slowing her progress.
Finally, she reached the stone structure and walked around to the back, where a massive oak tree with a rounded canopy stood sentry. An extra room, built of the same grey-black stones as the stable, had been added on. No light seeped out from between the slats of the wooden door.
She knocked. “Oswald? Are you in there?” She rubbed her hands together and then knocked again, but got no response. The door was locked.
It looked like she wouldn’t be getting back into the tower until morning.
With a sigh, she trudged to the front of the stables and stepped inside. Soft nickers greeted her, and she stroked the two curious equine faces peeking out of the stalls. “What do you think? Are you up for some company tonight?”
She fetched some hay from the loft, tossed it into an empty corner of the farthest stall, and added a couple of saddle blankets on top. Wist slept peacefully at her neck through the whole process. Curling up with her back to the wall, she settled on the shoulder that hadn’t protested as much during the assault on the tower door and looked out through the stable window at the stars. Practicing imaginary conversations in which she tried to convince Keir to return to the palace, she eventually fell asleep.
*
Neylan danced alone in the meadow, surrounded by lava-red moonflowers as Zared watched from the edge of the woods. She tried to reach him, but the grass wrapped around her ankles—the more she pulled, the tighter it gripped. One of the flowers lengthened and wrapped around her wrist, burning her skin as if the Burnt River itself had taken hold of her.
She woke with a gasp to find herself wrapped in a blue cloak, her head bouncing against someone’s shoulder.
Keir glanced at her and then looked over his shoulder. “I couldn’t wake you,” he said, a note of worry in his voice.
Early morning mist swirled around them. “I’ve been known to be a deep sleeper.” An asset when sharing a room with eleven sisters.
“You didn’t answer when I called.”
Because she was sleeping—had he not heard what she’d said? She wiggled, trying to free her arms, but the cloak was wrapped too tightly. Why was he carrying her across the meadow? And where had Wist gone?
“Keir—”
Ysmay thundered out of the stables on horseback and rode hard towards the road, cloak flapping.
Neylan struggled. “I can walk.”
“Why did you run away?” His jaw tightened, and he glanced over his shoulder again.
“I didn’t run away. The stupid door stuck after I followed you outside last night. Apparently, Ysmay sleeps deeper than I do, and Oswald was nowhere to be found.”
“He went for a walk,” he muttered.
“Keir, put me down.” She wiggled and kicked hard enough to throw him off balance.
He set her on her feet and settled the cloak around her shoulders. A bow and quiver hung at his back.
When they reached the tower, he opened the door for her. “Ysmay left some breakfast on the table. She’s running an errand, and Oswald and I will be out hunting for a while. We should all be back around noon. Please stay indoors until then.”
“All right.” She had no desire to be outside on such a misty day, anyway.
He cupped her chin in his hand and lightly kissed her on the lips. “I’ll see you soon.”
As soon as she stepped inside, he slammed the door, leaving her alone in the black tower.
Chapter Ten
Neylan tried to open the tower door, yanking and pulling, but Keir had jammed it tight. No matter. She had plenty to keep her busy until they returned at noon.
The kitchen window stood open a crack, so Wist would be able to get in whenever he wanted. She tried to push it open farther, but it didn’t budge, just like the one in the bathing room. No doubt to cut down on prisoners climbing to freedom. A covered plate of food sat on the table next to a yellow geranium in a jar of water. A pot of tea steamed on the stove. Stomach aching with hunger, she poured a cup of tea and plunked down to eat the offered meal: boiled eggs, sausages, sliced tomatoes, and a bowl of strawberries and cream.
Breakfast over, she fetched clean clothes and locked herself in the bathing room out of habit. After pumping water into the bath barrel and removing the embroidered cuff, she climbed in and sank up to her chin in warm water, thankful for whatever thermal spring provided the luxury. Before the water had time to cool, Wist squeezed through the crack in the window and flew straight to her hair, tangling himself in the damp strands and chittering nervously.
She pulled him free and held him cupped in her hands. “Did you think I’d left you behind? Silly dragon.” She stroked his back until he stopped shivering and then placed him in the water, where he relaxed belly up, wings extended, and floated away.
She chuckled. “Watch out for tidal waves.”
He braved the splashing and the soap and climbed out with her when she finished. Once she’d dressed in dove grey trousers and tunic—without a single hint of red or yellow—and braided her hair down her back, she scooped him up and deposited him on a towel.
He insisted on helping her tie the moonflower ribbon on her cuff and managed a decent bow without snagging anything with his talons. She ran a finger underneath. The skin felt sensitive to the touch, almost as if recovering from a sunburn. Perhaps she shouldn’t wear it so often. Or perhaps Zared could add a satin lining.
The images from her dream came flooding back to mind—Zared watching her dance in a sea of moonflowers. She’d hardly thought of him since leaving the palace. Why did that make her feel guilty?
On her way through the kitch
en, she nabbed a couple of strawberries from a bowl on the counter and handed Wist the smaller one. By the time she reached the fifth floor, he’d finished, and she handed him the leaf and stem from hers as she stepped into the library.
She buried herself in the books, a familiar activity and one that pushed all other thoughts out of her mind. Several hours, and six useless scrolls, later, her stomach told her it was lunchtime. She set aside a book with the promising title of Dragons and Sorcery and returned to the kitchen.
By the time she’d finished a light meal, cleaned up her mess, and straightened up the books in the library, she’d neither seen nor heard any sign of Keir or the caretakers. Where could they be?
Ysmay’s errand could have taken her anywhere, but Keir and Oswald wouldn’t have gone too far hunting.
In the fog.
With… bows and arrows.
She thought about Keir’s behavior that morning, how he had looked over his shoulder several times while carrying her to the tower.
“Something’s not right, Wist, and I won’t stay here pretending they’re going to return anytime soon.” What if something happened and they didn’t return? How long would she be trapped before Baz and Vanda sent help?
She had to get out.
After trying everything possible to pry open the door, she finally gave up and admitted it was stuck fast. What other options did she have? Climbing out the first floor windows was out of the question, considering they barely opened, but how about Keir’s room on the second floor?
She ran up the stairs only to find that he’d locked it, so she tried the storage room next, and the door pushed open easily. After weaving her way around dusty crates, bulging jute sacks, and broken furniture, she reached the first of two windows. Thankfully, it opened all the way.
All she needed was rope.
Wist flew in and offered her a peppercorn from the kitchen.
“Thanks. I’ll save it for later.” Patting his head, she tucked the gift into her braid and ran down to the pantry.