Heart of the Dragon's Realm

by Karalynn Lee

  Beatris glanced at the king, who considered Kimri a moment before nodding. Then the commandant unslung her bow and offered it to her with two hands.

  It was the wrong length for her, but she took it and strung it, bending to brace it against her knee and pull it to the proper curve. When she was done, she accepted the arrow Beatris offered. She looked up at the mountain-king. “A target.”

  He pointed to a woven basket in a distant corner.

  She lifted the bow and drew the string back with her thumb, almost to her eye, and centered herself. She dismissed the world and did her best to focus solely upon that basket, the pattern of its fibers, how it would yield to the arrowhead.

  But she felt the presence of the king, like a shadow touching hers. No matter how much she concentrated, he lurked in her thoughts.

  She loosed the arrow and bit her lip as it landed wide of the basket.

  “Maybe you can start by learning archery instead,” Beatris said.

  Kimri’s eyes narrowed. She nocked another arrow and let it fly straight and true through the handle of the basket’s lid.

  The boy who’d run to that corner to pick up the first arrow squeaked and jumped back.

  “Or learning not to hit people,” the commandant added.

  The king raised a hand before Kimri could manage either apology or retort. “I will assign a sword-dancer to teach you.”

  Startled, she said, “But I just—” She stopped herself. “Thank you, King.”

  He smiled briefly. “Now if we’re done in the courtyard…”

  She returned the bow to Beatris. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be glad to mock you before every shot if that’s what makes you aim well,” the commandant remarked, and Kimri had to laugh.

  They paused again in the stables, and a boy offered to take her mare. She hesitated. “Can I settle her in myself?” Redwing was a good companion, and Kimri didn’t like leaving her in unfamiliar hands.

  To her relief, the king nodded, and his expression even seemed approving.

  All the guards stabled and brushed their own mounts, while the stable hands tended to the pack-horses. Even the mountain-king took up a hoof pick with a competent hand, and all of the horses stood calmly as he picked up their feet and cleaned them.

  “He can’t be too bad,” Kimri said softly to her mare, who whuffled into her hair and then promptly abandoned her for her feed bucket.

  “You’re dismissed, save the commandant,” the king said to the guards once all the horses were contentedly stabled. “With my thanks for a duty well-rendered.”

  The guards touched their hilts and their hearts, then filed away with their saddlebags slung over their shoulders. No one made a move toward hers, so after a moment she picked them up herself.

  The king and Beatris resumed walking toward the keep with Kimri between them, placing her right in the middle of their conversation.

  “Is there anything else I should know about the attack?” the mountain-king asked.

  “If anything, it was too easy to overcome,” Beatris said. “I wonder if the king of Kenasgate even knew of it. An experienced commandant would have prepared better.”

  The king sighed. “Untangling politics always gives me a headache.”

  Kimri had never envied Dereth that task either. I guess there’s a reason why Helsmont has little to do with other realms.

  “And the guards?”

  Beatris gave a brief yet thorough rundown on how each man had performed. Kimri listened with interest. She’d noticed the same actions but hadn’t put them together into such a cohesive picture of the guards’ competence. Her escort was elite indeed, if a single minute’s tardiness in taking a night-watch shift was considered noteworthy.

  “Should I be hearing this?” she asked, remembering how Herrol had admonished her for seeking military secrets.

  “Why not? It’s not as though you’d tell the guards anything they didn’t know,” Beatris said, practical as ever.

  “And there’s a chance you may be interested in the men who’ll serve you as queen,” the king said. “I would hate to waste a year keeping you from learning anything useful about Helsmont.”

  Her mother had died when she and Dereth were young, and their father had never remarried, but she had seen from Dereth’s training that he was expected to hold sole rule. He had councilors, of course, but when he wed he would find a consort who would bring a strong political alliance and healthy babies, not a queen who would share his power. The mountain-king had ruled Helsmont alone for as long as Kimri remembered, and yet he sounded as though he expected more from her.

  “Cheyrit did well when tracking the horses,” she offered. “He could tell right off which way they went.”

  The king didn’t blink as he took in the feedback. “He’s always been woods-wise. I should set him to teaching Samir.”

  Beatris nodded. “I’ll put them both on hunting.”

  “Give them some days off duty first,” the king said. “I know you barely noticed it, but it’s a hard journey down and back up the mountain.”

  “It’s hard enough for some of us just going up,” Kimri said, feeling the aches from the ride.

  The king immediately turned to her with a concerned look. “If you wish to rest, I’ll have you shown to your room. My seneschal is about somewhere…”

  The thought of being trapped inside the same building as her betrothed set off a sudden wave of restlessness. “I’d like to see the rest of Helsmont. Could I just drop off my saddlebags and look around?”

  “Of course. The entire city is yours to see.” He paused. “You don’t want someone to accompany you?”

  Astonished to be given a choice, she said, “I don’t?” She caught herself. “I mean, I don’t. I won’t cause any trouble.”

  Dereth never would have believed her—and not without cause—and Beatris raised a sardonic brow, but the mountain-king seemed to take her at her word, although a look of disappointment passed over his face. “Anyone will direct you if you get lost. Your room is on the uppermost floor. Turn right from the stairs and go to the end of the hall.”

  She set off before he changed his mind, somehow coaxing her legs to take her up the four flights. Tapestries covered the walls, each depicting a different animal but with its background scenery flowing seamlessly into the next. It took her longer than it should have to reach her door as she admired the vivid dyes. The last tapestry portrayed a horned dragon curled about a peak, and unlike the others it looked ancient and faded, the dragon so gray it was almost indistinguishable from the stone of the mountain.

  Her room was generous in size and appointed with plain but well-crafted furnishings, even a desk with paper and inkwell and quill. The wood had the smooth sheen of years of handling. She slid her fingertips across its surface, glad to have it. Most noblewomen of Anagard couldn’t write, but she’d sidestepped that custom by nagging Dereth into teaching her. Now it meant she could write him without relying upon a scribe.

  She was even happier to see the fireplace, which would stave off the omnipresent cold, and then was ironically drawn to the window, whereby the cold came in. The view was of the part of the city she’d come in by, which she recognized by a certain red-roofed building and the well in the center of an open square.

  She dropped her saddlebags in the corner and winced at the amount of dust that rose up. They slumped there, looking forlorn and out of place. She hadn’t had much to bring. Some of the pack-horses had borne more of her things, along with some hastily assembled wedding finery, but even so it would take more than objects to make this space feel like her own.

  Determined to learn more about Helsmont, she headed back downstairs and through the courtyard to the city proper. She found her way to the well to gather the local gossip. This late in the day, though, not many people were lingering there. The few she saw moved purposefully on their way. She tried to guess their stories: a group of men with newly trimmed beards and brawny arms might be miners returning
to their families, and the young woman with a basket on her arm, rushing through the square, had been sent out on some task and tarried with her sweetheart, only to realize the hour.

  She leaned against the stones of the well and stared down into its depths, wondering what the water tasted like. She’d never operated a windlass before, though.

  “Princess?” someone asked tentatively, and she turned to see an older man standing beside her, holding a donkey’s lead. “Do you need anything?”

  She waved him off, too embarrassed to explain her plight. “No, I’m just looking around. You can be on your way.”

  His mouth quirked. “Very well, Princess. Once I’ve watered this fellow. Could you…?” He gestured her to one side, and she stepped out of his way with her cheeks burning. He came up to the well and drew out water, which he poured into a trough for his donkey.

  After he’d headed off, she pulled up her own bucket of water—it wasn’t so hard, now that she’d seen it done—and dipped in a hand to taste it. It was icy cold but had a crisp, clean taste that made the numbness of her fingers worthwhile.

  She wandered onward, carefully noting her direction so she’d be able to return to the keep: a left turn at this house with a gracefully arched door, then past the maple tree that shaded a slate wall. The next time she paused to take her bearings, another person, this time an aproned matron, asked whether she needed anything. Kimri gave her another embarrassed demurral, but the apron reminded her of the baker woman who had smiled at her. She’d been standing somewhere in this area. Kimri sniffed the air and caught a whiff of bread. She impulsively followed it to a building and knocked on the door.

  “It’s open,” someone called, so she opened it and went in. It was indeed a bakery, suffused with warmth and the aroma of bread.

  “Princess,” a man seated at the back said, sounding surprised. It was Samir, one of the guards who’d been in her escort. He pushed himself to his feet, still in his leathers but with flour speckled over them. He held a half-eaten slice of pie in his hand. “Do you need anything?”

  She blinked at him. “I didn’t know you were here. I’m just exploring the city, and this smelled like a bakery…”

  “Indeed it is,” a woman said, setting down a tray to come forward and wiping her hands. She was the one whom Kimri had seen. “I’m Emeray, and you’re welcome to my shop, Princess.”

  “Emeray is my wife,” Samir said. “I was just telling her about our journey.”

  Emeray smiled at her again. “I’m glad to meet you. I should warn you, everyone is terribly curious about you.”

  “Me?” At Anagard she’d been the afterthought, the king’s daughter and then the king’s sister who had strange ways and no influence. People had turned a weary eye upon her if at all. And the folk here had barely spoken to her.

  “Of course. We’d hardly heard anything about you before the king announced his betrothal.”

  Samir smiled at his wife. “You were certainly asking me enough questions about her just now.”

  It somehow seemed fair that the king and Beatris had been speaking of the guards in front of her while the guards were reporting on their king’s betrothed. “Well, I’m here if you want to ask me anything directly.”

  Samir made an approving sound and settled back into his seat. “Go ahead,” he said to Emeray. “It’ll let me stop talking and give me a chance to finish my pie.” He took a bite.

  To Kimri’s mortification, her stomach rumbled.

  Samir chuckled and reached behind Emeray to pick one of the rolls off her tray. “Here, Princess.”

  “You wouldn’t rather eat at the keep?” Emeray asked her.

  Samir made a scoffing noise. “The princess has eaten trail tack for the last few days. Even if you weren’t a marvelous baker, love, she’d find your bread delicious.”

  “I just thought our king might be expecting her to sup with him,” his wife said mildly.

  “I think our king would expect us to feed her if she showed up at our door hungry.” He still held out the roll, so she took it and bit into it.

  A berry filling oozed out, hot and sweet. She savored it before eagerly devouring the rest of the flaky pastry, licking the last crumbs off her fingers. “That was delicious.” The taste still lingered on her tongue, and she almost asked for another when she remembered, This is her livelihood. “Oh—what do I owe you?”

  Emeray waved off the question. “You’re doing me a favor, keeping my husband from eating so many he can’t fit into his leathers anymore.”

  “The perils of wedding a baker,” Samir said, looking content indeed.

  “Do you want another?” Emeray asked.

  She shook her head reluctantly. “You’re right, I should go back to the keep.”

  But even as she turned toward the door, it was flung open and two boys burst in. “You’re home!” one shouted and ran to hug Samir. The other hung back, staring at Kimri. She eyed him back.

  “You’re the princess,” he said in tones of enlightenment.

  “So you know me, but who are you?” she asked.

  “Zerel. That’s my brother Benish. We’re twins.”

  She compared their features. “I see that. How should I keep you two straight?”

  He grinned. “It’s more fun if you don’t.”

  “Zerel!” Emeray scolded him. “He’s the one with the mouth on him, Princess—that’s how you’ll know.”

  “I’m glad to have met your family,” she said. “But I’ll let you be now.”

  “Will you come back, Princess?” Benish asked through the roll he was chewing.

  She smiled at him. “Surely. You’re eating one of the reasons why.”

  They let her go with a minimum of fuss. Samir’s family must be glad to have him back in Helsmont, and they deserved time together without a stranger lurking among them.

  The sky began to darken as she made her way back. Any later and she might have had trouble recognizing the landmarks she’d noted earlier, although the silhouette of the keep’s towers would have kept her in the right direction. She was less prepared for how much colder it became when the sun set, and kept her steps brisk and her hands tucked under her arms to stay warm. But she reached the keep without incident, and the guard at the open gates nodded to her and said, “Princess,” as she passed through, as though seeing her alone at this hour were perfectly normal.

  She crossed the courtyard, only to be approached by a reed-thin man, younger than his gray hair might suggest. He looked tired but had kind eyes. “Princess, I’m Rendel. The seneschal of the keep.”

  “I think the king meant for me to meet you,” she said. “You can show me how things work here.”

  He smiled. “I can, especially while you don’t have a maidservant. I know noblewomen in Anagard usually have one. Merinee was supposed to be here, but her brother broke his leg, so she’s busy tending his goats. We don’t really have anyone else suitable—there hasn’t been a proper lady here for a long while.”

  “I hardly count,” she said. “I can survive without a maidservant for a while. The last one I had in Anagard quit in despair.”

  He blinked. “Merinee is stouter-hearted than that. But while she’s gone, let me know if you need anything.”

  “Supper would be nice.” That roll seemed to have only aroused her appetite further.

  He gave her that quick smile again. “There’s always something to be found in the kitchen. Meals are informal here, although I hear it’s different in the riverlands.”

  “We haven’t held court for a while. The war disrupted the noble houses.”

  “Ah. We have no noble houses in Helsmont.”

  He led her to the kitchens and introduced her to the cook, who took pity on her and gave her a bowl of hearty stew. Anyone who gave her warm food, Kimri decided, would be a lifelong friend, even if he expected her to eat it while sitting like a servant at a rough-hewn table amidst the bustle of the kitchens. The heat of the cooking fire and the cheerful chatter wer
e far more comfortable than the lifeless meals governed by two dozen rules of etiquette back home.

  The cook also tried to urge some stew upon Rendel, but he demurred and then disappeared to resume whatever duties she’d interrupted. After eating, she made her way up the stairs to her room alone. The rest of her things had been stacked neatly next to her saddlebags and a fire had been started and banked in the fireplace.

  She said aloud, “It’s not so bad, Dereth,” and was immediately overcome by a wave of homesickness. She would write her brother on the morrow to reassure him of her safe arrival, and hope for a trader heading toward Anagard soon who could take her letter. Tonight she was too tired to manage a quill with any legibility.

  Burrowed under the generous layers of blankets on the bed, she managed to get warm enough to fall asleep.

  * * *

  A knock woke her while the sky outside her window was still dark. It was freezing. Heedless of dignity, she wrapped a blanket around herself and shambled to the door to find a man of slight build and sharp eyes standing outside. He held a pair of sheathed swords. “The king sent me to teach you sword-dancing, Princess. I am Jakkis.”

  “Lessons start before dawn?”

  “Yes, Princess.” He didn’t look amenable to returning at another hour.

  She smothered a yawn with her hand and resigned herself. She’d asked to learn, after all, although no one had mentioned the timing. “What do I need?”

  He eyed her. “An alert mind, most of all. Ask for mint tea in the kitchens on the way to the courtyard.” Then he walked off.

  Muttering imprecations, she dressed and twisted her hair into a knot. The effort woke her a little, but she was still grateful for the soothing warmth of the mug in her hands and the strong, sharp flavor of the tea tingling upon her tongue before she made her way to the courtyard—which was even colder than her room, if that was possible.

  “Here. Take stance.” He offered her the swords. She drew one in each hand and reflexively assumed a ready position. One blade drooped noticeably below the other.

  “So.” He stepped back, getting a better look at all of her. “You know how to hold a sword correctly with your right hand, at least.”