The Moonflower Dance

by Lea Doué

  Startled, Wist looked around. As soon as he heard Fleet outside, he zipped out after him.

  Vanda laughed. “How much longer should we put off getting ready for the ball?”

  “I want a few minutes with this book before Euna gets started on my hair.”

  “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

  Ten minutes later, Euna wheeled in and shooed Neylan, book in hand, into the bedroom and pointed at the dressing table. Neylan sat dutifully and flipped pages as Euna twisted her hair up into elaborate braids, including a loop for Wist to hide in.

  “You’re going cross-eyed,” Euna said.

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple, a headache looming. The water damage was too extensive to decipher much. With a sigh, she tossed the book onto the table. “There’s nothing of use in that one, either.” Nothing about how to break bonds or curses. Nothing about sorcery at all.

  Euna was speaking. “…lots of questions when they learned I was the dragon girl’s lady-in-waiting. I told them to mind their business.”

  The dragon girl. She would never get away from that nickname, would she? Although some people in Mazereon seemed to say it with a different tone than back home.

  Euna laced her into the fire gown, the rich orange-red layers sparkling with even more flaming undertones than she remembered. She tucked the black lace sleeve underneath the flower cuff, grateful Zared had removed the splinter.

  Ten minutes before the ball, she paced in the candlelit sitting room, waiting for Keir. Hopefully, Gram’s trick would be working, or she would be escorting herself.

  A few moments later, someone knocked and Euna opened the door.

  The trick had worked.

  Keir took one step inside and blurted, “That gown is almost as beautiful as you are.”

  She grinned, her heart thumping at the sight of him in his finery. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Of course it was meant… .” He cleared his throat and offered his arm. “You look beautiful. Shall we go?”

  She wanted to ask him how he felt, but she was reluctant to start the evening off by calling attention to his… condition. Instead, she ran a finger along the red dragons embroidered on the sleeve of his black tunic. “Subtle.”

  In a grumpy voice, he replied, “Not my idea.”

  Wist caught up with them in the hallway and landed on Keir’s shoulder.

  She glanced at him sideways. “I think he’s telling you there are no hard feelings for not telling us about the razor-tail.”

  “Wist is an understanding dragon. And so are you.”

  She giggled.

  “I mean—”

  “Well, I am your dragon girl.” Her face flamed hot enough to match her gown. Was that the first time she’d said those words out loud?

  He looked straight ahead and swallowed.

  She plucked Wist off his shoulder. “Speaking of dragons, Keir has nowhere to hide you, little friend, but I have the perfect braid for you to curl up in. If you would be so kind as to stay out of sight tonight, I would be grateful.”

  Keir grinned.

  “I’m glad you find me amusing.”

  “I’m not laughing at you. It’s charming to see how you interact with him.”

  “Mmm. My sisters find it hilarious when they walk in on me talking to my hair and the dragon has flown away without my knowledge.”

  He snorted and then cleared his throat to hide it.

  “Thank you for bringing some of the books back from the tower.”

  “You’re welcome. Did you find anything interesting?”

  “Interesting, perhaps, but not useful.”

  He sighed. “Gram thinks it’s a waste of time.”

  She shrugged, knowing she couldn’t change Gram’s mind. “Reading is never a waste of time.”

  They entered the ballroom through the doorway underneath the grand staircase, the stairs forming an arch on either side of them. Wist peeked around her ear and chirped at the spectacle.

  Blazing chandeliers illuminated the room with flickering candlelight, and silky moonlight shone through the windows. Lights from the city glimmered in the distance. Already, dancers filled the floor with swirling, sparkling colors. Baz and Vanda stood out immediately, he in formal midnight blue and she in bright crimson from head to toe, playing the part of his red dragon girl.

  A couple of ladies passed by, whispering behind their hands and cutting their eyes at Neylan.

  “Do I have dirt on my face?” Keir asked.

  “No, but the visiting princess of Ituria has a dragon in her hair again.”

  He glanced at Wist and gave her a lopsided grin. “One would think you’d ridden in on a rock dragon.”

  “Don’t give me any ideas. I’m sure Euna would gladly bring me in on Majesty, once she’s ready.”

  He chuckled and escorted her to a conveniently empty patch of wall, where they stood side by side and watched the dancers.

  “Anyone strike your fancy?” she asked.

  “What? Oh, well, there is this one young lady in red who’s caught my eye lately.”

  “Oh, really?” She grinned and dropped her hand from his arm. “For Vanda’s sake, I’d like to see you dance with a few ladies in red tonight. Don’t waste the effort Gram is putting out to help you.”

  His face grew serious. “I don’t see why she feels the need to be doing this at all.”

  Neylan watched the red-gowned ladies twirling with their partners on the dance floor in dizzying patterns. “Because we don’t really know how to break your curse. It’s leftover from one that you weren’t even meant to be a part of. If Gram thinks it’s worth it to keep doing her part, then you should do yours.”

  He stared up at the chandeliers. “I can’t argue with your logic.”

  “Good.” That had been both easier and harder than she’d anticipated. She glanced around the room. “Then how about that young lady there for a start? The tall one in maroon.”

  “If you insist… but I’m not letting you off the hook.” He walked off and swept his first red lady onto the dance floor.

  Neylan stifled a desire to send Wist to interrupt them.

  Vanda joined her. “I’ve heard at least a dozen comments since you entered,” she said, as they both watched Keir while trying not to be obvious about it. “You really light up the room tonight.”

  Neylan swished her skirts, ignoring the crackling static. “Baz shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble… but I’m glad he did.”

  Vanda glanced at her own gown. “Red used to be a special color for me, but I admit I’m growing tired of it. I’d rather be wearing blue so I can blend in with the curtains.”

  Neylan joined her laughter, her gaze drifting back to Keir, who danced with a short lady who’d dyed her hair cinnamon red. His own gaze strayed to Neylan more often than appropriate for a man guiding someone else’s steps.

  “He’s usually a level-headed man,” Vanda said. “I fear Mel spun her stories of you more romantically than she meant to. Keir did the same thing with Baz, telling him stories of his visits to my village to keep Baz’s mind off problems with his father. I’m not sure if Keir even realizes the similarities, or if his interest in you is an effort to mirror those circumstances because he thinks it’s his best bet to find someone to break the curse.”

  Neylan ran her fingers over the flower cuff. “You think he’s trying to convince himself that he’s in love with me?”

  Vanda shrugged. “I can’t think of any other reason why his curse isn’t broken yet, but it doesn’t mean you won’t eventually be the one.”

  Neylan hid her clenched fists in the folds of her skirt, refusing to believe what Vanda suggested. She knew how she felt. She knew how Keir felt. Their answer would have to be found elsewhere.

  Eventually, she nudged a reluctant Vanda to mingle with more guests.

  Keir parted ways with his latest partner and approached. “Would you do me the honor of a dance, Your Highness?”

  She took hi
s offered hand, and they joined the other couples as the next song began.

  “Have you run out of ladies to dance with already?”

  He didn’t respond immediately, but studied her face. Finally, he held her a little closer and said simply, “No.”

  Near the end of the song, Wist crawled from Neylan’s hair onto her shoulder, his talons digging into the lace sleeve for balance.

  “So now it emerges,” Keir said. “The loathsome creature the ladies have been speaking about.”

  “Hideous, isn’t he?” Neylan said with a grin.

  He returned her grin, but his eyes betrayed his weariness.

  “You should rest more.”

  He shook his head so slightly that she would have missed it had they not been so close. “Being in my proper form when the curse has dictated I should be a dragon is tiring. Once the ball is over and I can transform, I’ll feel better.”

  She hesitated before asking the next question, but then plunged ahead. “Is it anything like when you tried to stay inside the tower after dark?”

  “Something like that,” he mumbled, and then continued in a normal tone. “I was wondering, since I didn’t get to fly you back to the palace like we’d planned, would you like to go flying again with me tonight after the ball?”

  How could she say no? “Of course I would.”

  He smiled and squeezed her fingers.

  Once the song ended, Wist flew over to an arrangement of red and yellow tulips and disappeared among the leaves. Neylan danced with a few gentlemen and circulated among the guests, who seemed more chatty with Wist out of sight. Some people tried to wheedle information from her about who Vanda favored to be her lady’s maids once she became queen, but she dodged the questions.

  Mostly, she watched Keir and his dancing partners. He never stopped to eat or drink, and he danced twice in a row with a smiling lady with high cheekbones and a gorgeous pouffe of tight black curls decorated with ruffly, pink camellias. Her chest squeezed tight with a feeling that was becoming familiar to her. She knew its name—jealousy—but she refused to own it.

  Towards the end of the night, Keir stumbled on the floor but recovered quickly. Neylan set down her cup of punch and watched him even more carefully than she had all night. Perhaps he’d merely tripped on his partner’s gown. He finished the dance, escorted the lady off the floor, and then staggered over to a table.

  Neylan rushed to him. Even from a distance, his skin appeared dull, and the pale scars stood out more than usual against his dark skin. His eyes were pinched in pain, brows furrowed.

  Baz watched his friend, too, while trying to listen to a grey-bearded duke at his side. He caught Neylan’s eye and gestured towards the doorway, indicating that she should try to get Keir out. She nodded her understanding and sped up.

  Wist, who’d been peeking at Neylan from the flowers, darted over the heads of the dancers, causing several ladies to squeal and stumble out of his way. He landed on Neylan’s shoulder.

  Noticing Neylan’s approach, Keir straightened and waited for her.

  She strode up to him and spoke without missing a beat. “I am in need of some fresh air. Would you be so kind as to escort me outside?” She didn’t need his escort, of course, but it was the easiest way to convince him to get out of the crowd.

  He didn’t answer at first, as if considering the motive behind her question, but a moment later, he flinched. She raised an eyebrow, and he offered his arm. By the time they walked the perimeter of the room and reached the doors, he was leaning on her. They made it into the hallway, and she led him past a large balcony, where other dancers seeking fresh air lingered, and down a flight of stairs. By that time, he was shaking uncontrollably.

  “What can I do? What do you need?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Outside. Gram… can’t hold…”

  She didn’t ask him to clarify. He could be seconds away from transforming, and his dragon form would barely fit into the hallway, much less out the doors. They could both be injured.

  He stumbled a couple of times, but they made it outside. Waving off the door guards’ offer of help, Keir lurched forward as fast as he could on the path leading to the garden manor.

  “We need to get you to the fields.”

  He shook his head. “Too late now.”

  Neylan clung to his hand, and they ran.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Neylan and Keir, who was moments away from transforming, ran into the gardens to escape any prying eyes, but the paths were too narrow to accommodate his dragon form without damaging trees or shrubs or stone walls, and perhaps Keir himself.

  He released her hand and pushed her forward. “Go. I’ll be all right.”

  “I won’t leave you alone.”

  “Just go!”

  Wist squawked and launched himself from her shoulder.

  Pain clouded Keir’s eyes, as well as worry. He didn’t want her to see him transform.

  Well, too bad. She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not leaving.”

  He groaned and bent over, bracing his hands against his knees. Wrapping an arm around his waist, she hauled him up as best she could, and he leaned on her heavily as they wound their way farther into the gardens.

  There had to be a space large enough for him to transform and secluded enough to keep it secret. If anyone spotted him after the transformation, they might be persuaded to believe it was a once-in-a-lifetime sighting of a black dragon at the palace. One could hope.

  She pictured the gardens in her mind as they walked. There was nowhere high enough to conceal him completely, but the moonlight garden might be large enough, if barely. They would have to sacrifice a few flowers.

  “We need to get to the moonlight garden. Hurry!”

  He shuffled faster, his skin steaming in the night air. The heat radiated through his tunic, almost hot enough to burn her skin. She wouldn’t be able to touch him much longer.

  Wist zipped around their heads making throaty gurgles of concern. A bat swooped by, and he chased it, scolding, before returning to his post.

  Keir’s body shook, vibrating like a giant cat’s growl, and he tripped over his boots. Thankfully, he managed not to fall, because she would never have been able to get him up. She murmured encouragement under her breath, but keeping him upright took most of her strength.

  The hothouse appeared ahead, lamps unlit. Good. The groundskeepers must have extinguished them due to the razor-tail sighting, which meant less chance of them being seen. If anyone were nearby, they would hear them, though, as they were making enough noise for ten people.

  Finally, they reached the moonlight garden and stumbled through the arch.

  Keir sank to his knees and then reached up and grasped her waist. He spoke only a word or two after each labored breath, his voice hoarse. “Go. Don’t. Want to. Hurt you.”

  She knelt in front of him. “You won’t hurt me, and I already told you I’m not leaving. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

  He took a deep breath that sounded like a sob and buried his head in her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, the heat coming off him burning her bare skin like scalding bathwater, but she gritted her teeth and held on tighter. The steam increased, surrounding them until she could scarcely make out his features.

  The scars on his skin began to glow, softly at first, but with growing brightness—deep orange like the lava flowing in the Burnt River. Then they began to ooze, and he groaned and shook so hard her teeth chattered. She tightened her hold again, and he squeezed her shoulders.

  Suddenly, he let go and stood so quickly she fell backward. She could barely see him through the steam.

  “Run!” His voice held the echo of a dragon’s roar.

  She scrambled backward and then ran for the archway. When she reached it, she stopped and turned.

  A black dragon towered before her, higher than the stone wall, his very presence blocking the moonlight. Tiny orange sparks floated in the smoke-scented air.

 
Keir crouched low, but even with his wings folded, he was tightly squeezed into the space. He would have to stand tall and jump as high as he could to clear the area, and hope no one saw.

  At least the transformation had been quiet.

  He turned his head and looked at her with one great dark eye.

  What was he thinking?

  Wist flitted over chewing on a mouthful of moonflower and landed on Neylan’s shoulder, calm now as if nothing peculiar had happened. She hissed as his talons scraped her skin, tender from the heat of Keir’s scalding touch. The steam or fog or whatever it was dissipated rapidly, disappearing rather than blowing away as normal fog would.

  Neylan shivered, remembering the fog in Tharius’s undergarden that somehow never went past a certain barrier.

  Keir rubbed a toe in the ashy remains of the night phlox under his belly and then spelled out a word on the stones: Gram.

  Gram! Neylan had been so concerned for Keir that she hadn’t considered the reason he was changing must be because Gram wasn’t able to continue her work. “You want me to check on her?”

  He nodded.

  “Will you be all right?”

  Another nod.

  “I’ll leave Wist with you. Can I meet you under the oak after I see Gram? To let you now how she is?” Flying was out of the question, but she still wanted to check on him.

  He paused and then nodded a third time.

  She put a hand on his jaw, the easiest part to reach, ordered Wist to stay with him, and then sped off as fast as the flame gown would allow.

  When she arrived at Gram’s rooms, the guard was nowhere to be seen. She banged on the door. As soon as the bewildered maid opened it, Neylan swept into the sitting room.

  Gram sat beside a low-burning fire, eyes closed and head resting against the back of the chair.

  The guard stepped past Neylan, murmuring as he passed, “She’s all right now.” He exited the room and shut the door.

  The maid stepped in front of Neylan, blocking her view of the woman. Baz had chosen Gram’s servants well.

  “Bring us a fresh pot of tea, please,” Gram directed her maid.