Heart of the Dragon's Realm

by Karalynn Lee

  “I learned a little from my brother.” She relaxed a little, relieved he hadn’t dismissed her out of hand. She admired the swords she held. Helsmont had a deserved reputation for the quality of its steel, and these were beautifully crafted blades. She almost forgave Dereth for being willing to trade her for a hundred of these.

  “I thought they didn’t allow women to fight in Anagard.”

  “I’m not in Anagard any more, am I?”

  He had a gruff laugh, rather like that of one of her uncles. “I see Beatris has already influenced you.”

  She decided not to mention she’d had a rebellious streak long before she’d ever met Beatris, but his obvious approval made her warm to him. “It was a surprise to see her. Not only a female guard, but a commandant.”

  “She’s among the best. But then again, I trained her.”

  “Does that mean there’s hope for me?”

  “It’s not always based on merit. I’m teaching you because you’re our king’s betrothed. And I taught her because she’s my daughter.”

  She studied his face. “I see it.” It was in the shared sweep of brow, the angle of cheekbone. Also in the confidence of manner. Then she lost her focus as her left arm started to tremble.

  “Never drop a sword.” He said it mildly enough, but she immediately tightened her grip. “No. Don’t squeeze so hard. You’re not milking a goat.”

  “If I don’t squeeze, I’ll drop it.”

  “Then put it down.”

  She meekly lowered the sword.

  “If you wish to learn to fight with the sword, you should stay with one blade,” he said. “You could do well enough.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to be a swordswoman. The little training I got was more because I wanted to do whatever my brother did. I don’t think I could take a life, and in the end, swordplay is meant for killing. The sword-dance seems like something else.” It brought beauty instead of death. “We don’t have anything like it in Anagard.”

  “It’s an old ritual, forgotten in most places. If you wish to master it, you’ll have to work on balancing your arm strength. I’ll show you some exercises. You’ll practice them daily.”

  She nodded.

  “Now. Again.”

  She groaned and lifted the sword once more.

  After over an hour in that stance, the memory of it was locked into her muscles, especially in her left arm. Thankfully, the guards clattered into the courtyard for practice, ending her lesson and freeing her to return to her room. Impossibly, the stairs were even harder to climb than they had been yesterday. She trudged upward, head down, and almost crashed into the mountain-king.

  He evaded her smoothly and caught her arm when she suddenly realized he was there and almost misstepped the next stair. He had a powerful grip and rock-steady balance that didn’t budge as she found her feet.

  “Sorry!” She was a little breathless at the thought of almost having fallen down three flights. Or was it from his proximity?

  He didn’t let go. “You look wearied and it’s early yet. Did you sleep well enough?”

  “Sword-dancing lessons,” she explained, the words coming in a rush. “I think Jakkis wanted to start them before everyone else woke up and could see me floundering in the courtyard, so really, it was a kindness. As you’ve just seen, I can be clumsy.”

  “No one stays clumsy for long under Jakkis’s training. You must be sore. I’ll have a bath sent up to you.”

  The thought of soaking in hot water tempted her, but she’d never be able to drag herself out, and it was still early morning. “No need.”

  “Will you breakfast with me, then?”

  She’d already spent yesterday avoiding him, and she couldn’t go without seeing him forever. She nodded.

  “This way.” He released her at last. She’d gotten so used to his hold that her upper arm felt cold without the heat of his hand. She rubbed at the spot absently as she followed him, trying to restore that warmth.

  Breakfast was in the northwestern tower, on a terrace with a low enough ledge for the food to be set upon once Rendel brought it. The mountain-king sat on one end of a short bench and looked at her expectantly. So this is the royal dining room? She seated herself beside him and found herself looking out upon the mountains, burnished with trees in autumnal hues.

  They ate in silence for a time. She didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t seem to feel the need to speak. And he’s the one who thought we should get to know each other during the betrothal. Instead he seemed to blend into the background, as solid and steady as the peaks in the distance. She let her attention wander. Sounds drifted up from the courtyard: traders making deliveries, guards practicing, a child singing and skipping. A wayward wind brought wispy seeds dancing through the air in front of them. She ate her bread absently, watching the light change along the slopes and treetops.

  A magpie soared by, then lazily circled back and landed by their feet with a few hops. It pecked at some crumbs that had fallen. She held still with her bread halfway to her mouth so as not to disturb it.

  The mountain-king chuckled. “You can keep eating. He won’t startle that easily.”

  She was the one who startled, from the sound of his voice. The magpie didn’t react. She lifted the bread cautiously and the bird still didn’t flee. A few slow chews later, she decided to take the king at his word. “Is he tame?”

  “No, but he’s a frequent visitor. At least, whenever I eat here.”

  She pulled a knee up to rest her chin upon and slanted her gaze toward him. He was watching the bird, but as though he felt her looking at him, turned to her and patiently bore her regard.

  For all his large size, he didn’t intimidate her physically. He carried too much of a sense of calm about him. Even his broad hands, curved around a mug, seemed relaxed and unlikely to ever be wielded in threat. Someone who had wrenched her life around so drastically ought to seem more dangerous.

  Her gaze moved to his face. He wasn’t handsome, not like the men of Anagard’s noble houses, who tended toward clean-shaven faces and lean builds, but he fascinated her eye nonetheless. His features were strong and rugged, his skin tanned and textured from sun and wind. If she dared spread her fingers upon his shoulders, she didn’t think her hands would span their breadth.

  She couldn’t imagine touching him. It would be like reaching out to the face of a mountain.

  She finally looked away to pick up her own mug. It was filled with a spiced milk blend, surprisingly pleasing to her tongue. “Do you take breakfast here every morning?” she asked after a long swallow.

  “Usually,” he said. “I like to start each day with a view of my realm.”

  “We don’t have any sights like this in Anagard.” After a moment, she added, “I could grow to like it.”

  His smile was slow and pleased. She could grow to like that too.

  Chapter Three

  To her relief, he rose after breakfast with a few apologetic words about needing to see to someone. His presence disquieted her, as she couldn’t quite reconcile this quiet man with the reason she’d had to leave Anagard. She wasn’t sure why he’d had her dragged here only to delay the wedding a year, requested her presence at an intimate breakfast with a gorgeous view and then spoken but a few dozen words during the entire meal. Did he want her as his bride or not?

  She had no duties, so she headed up to her room and wrote a letter to Dereth to let him know she’d arrived safely. She glossed over the ambush, but he would no doubt read about it and mutter something about how she’d gotten into trouble even before reaching Helsmont’s capitol. It wouldn’t matter that it wasn’t her fault. As he’d noted on many occasions, that didn’t seem to stop trouble from finding her.

  She wrote nothing about the mountain-king, save to note that his hospitality thus far had been gracious.

  She found Rendel and asked him about sending her letter. He took it and told her that traders made their way to Anagard regularly. “And even in the wor
st winter storms, messengers can be sent on hardy mountain ponies or on skis, but these are reserved for urgent missives.”

  “Mine’s hardly that,” she said. It was Dereth’s response that she hoped would be speedy.

  “It’s still autumn, Princess. But I thought you might want to know that we’re not completely closed off during the snowy season.”

  She blushed. Was it so obvious she considered Helsmont to be poised at the end of the world? And if winter was so far off, how much colder would it become?

  The best way to stay warm, she’d learned, was to keep moving. Curious about the mountain ponies he’d mentioned, she made her way to the stables. They were of a short-legged, stoic breed and didn’t seem overly curious about her presence. She could easily see them plodding through a blizzard without changing pace or spooking. “More people could use the disposition bred into you,” she told them. She was probably among them.

  While she was there, she checked on Redwing and couldn’t find any fault with the care given her. As she stroked the sorrel’s face, her mare whuffled at her as though inviting her to ride. Kimri hesitated, sorely tempted for a moment to throw on her saddle and take off, but she didn’t trust her riding skills on these mountain paths. She would have to find someone to show her a reliable route. Her horse was the most valuable thing she’d brought from Anagard—as a friend, too, not just as a commodity—and Kimri wouldn’t carelessly risk her.

  One of the stable hands tried to describe a path to her, but none of the landmarks he mentioned were familiar. She was making him repeat himself for the second time when one of the guards who’d escorted her walked in, followed by a woman also wearing a guard’s leathers. “Princess,” Damano greeted her. “Do you need anything?”

  Everyone’s always asking me that. Do I look so helpless here in Helsmont? “Just trying to work out a good riding route so I don’t go mad circling the courtyard.”

  “You can come with us,” he offered. “We’re on perimeter duty, Yerra and I.”

  The woman ducked her head with a smile. “Princess.” She had a lovely high voice, almost girlish. Unlike Beatris, she wore her hair long but braided close to her skull.

  “If I won’t slow you down too much.” Although she wouldn’t get to go riding on her own, as she’d hoped, at least she would have a guide on these unfamiliar paths.

  “I’ve seen you handle horses,” Damano said. “I’m sure we’ll be keeping up with you.”

  Yerra added, “I also heard how you handled the prince when he tried to kidnap you, Princess. You’re welcome on any guard duty. Especially ones to keep Kenasgate raiders out of our borders.”

  “I caught him by surprise.” They wouldn’t dare invite her to the guards’ practice bouts and most onerous shifts, would they? No one here seemed to respect her rank.

  Yerra laughed. “Don’t worry, we won’t hold you to the same standards.”

  They mounted up and rode toward the city gates. On the way, people cheerfully hailed not only the guards, but Kimri as well. “Good day, Princess!” two young voices chorused, and she saw the twin boys from the bakery, Benish jumping up and down to get her attention. She waved to them. Maybe there was something to be said for such informality. No one in Anagard would have dared greet Dereth that way.

  They rode a slow circuit around the city walls, which took less time than she’d expected. Helsmont was smaller than Anagard, and Yerra had a wicked sense of humor that kept Kimri too busy laughing to note the passage of time. She garnered some useful information, as well, when the guards described the major routes in each direction, and they pointed out a riding path to the north she could take when she wanted a safe but less-traveled route. “It doesn’t actually lead anywhere,” Damano explained. “But going along it and back is decent exercise for any horse, especially up here in the mountains.”

  The guards checked that the paths were clear of any obstruction, noting which they might need to send a crew out to. They also had their bows and swords in case trouble made its way here. Desperate bandits weren’t unheard of, even this high.

  But their only excitement was coming across a trader and his mules on their way into Helsmont. The man was understandably harried from his journey and didn’t stop to talk with them for long, preferring to reach the city as quickly as he could. But she could tell he was heartened by the brief encounter. Anagard—and Kenasgate, she knew—posted garrisons within towns, but didn’t patrol outside them, leaving travelers on their own on the paths between. She would have to suggest it to Dereth. It might give the soldiers something to do other than drink ale and chase the local women.

  At one point a small mammal dashed across her path, startling her mare. It moved too quickly for her to see it clearly. “What was that?”

  Damano squinted at the undergrowth into which it’d run. “Likely a chipmunk.”

  “Do you set traps along your circuit?” She didn’t have much of a stomach for hunting or trapping, but it seemed a sensible way to feed people in these mountains.

  “No,” Yerra said. At Kimri’s questioning look, she explained, “They grow wary of the traps quickly, and it would be a distraction for us anyway. Can you imagine trying to fight bandits while skinning squirrels and holding off interested bears at the same time?”

  “I thought guards could do anything!” Kimri grinned.

  “We don’t like to show off too much,” Yerra said. “It’d scare those bandits right out of attacking us, and then how would we get our fun?”

  The guards got their fun, Kimri discovered when they returned to the city, by gathering in a tavern most evenings and trading tales while drinking cider. They were a lively group without becoming overly boisterous, and some even brought their families, giving her a new host of names to remember. She was a little overwhelmed by the easy way they included her in their conversations—commoners in Anagard had been more circumspect. But the spouses and children kept her from being the only person who wasn’t a guard. She certainly didn’t count the ignominious occasion when she’d disguised herself as a youth and joined a raiding troop—into Helsmont, actually, although they’d meant to cut through to Kenasgate.

  The tales stretched taller until no one but Yerra could tell them with a straight face, and once yawns started claiming people, they began drifting home. Kimri made her way back to the keep and up the stairs to her room, and this time had no trouble dropping into slumber.

  * * *

  The cider had been mild enough to leave her no blearier than usual the next morning when Jakkis woke her. She liked to think she was a touch quicker this time to shiver her way into clothes, the kitchen and then the courtyard.

  Her arms and shoulders ached too much from yesterday’s workout for her to get much practicing done, so Jakkis set her to learning the ritual of sword-dancing, including the sibilant words uttered before a match. These were in no language she recognized, and Jakkis couldn’t even tell her a precise translation, only each phrase’s purpose. There was the formal greeting and challenge, then the opponent’s acceptance.

  “What about refusal?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “You never refuse a sword-dance. You only challenge those who are fit, and when you are challenged, you dance to the best of your ability. If you’re unsuited, someone else may claim your challenge.”

  She liked how the arrangement had the ring of honor. Duels in Anagard had become scarce since the war, but there’d been a time when they were messy, frequent affairs, with gauntlets hurled over absurdly petty slights. And, of course, they often ended in death. Sword-dancing in ancient times might have done the same, but Jakkis told her that in Helsmont, it only went to surrender. There was another phrase for that, one she would likely need to use often at first.

  After her lesson she looked up at the northwestern tower. Would the king be there? And if he was, would she want to see him? That hesitation decided her. She wouldn’t have anyone think her fearful of her own betrothed.

  She found the mountain-king s
itting on his end of the bench, enough breakfast for two people laid out before him. She dared to presume that half of it was meant for her and sat next to him with a murmured greeting. He poured milk for her, and she relaxed. Two mugs surely could be taken as a definite invitation. He even opened the conversation.

  “How goes the sword-dancing?”

  “Slowly. But I did learn the ritual phrases.” She began to chant the words of greeting and he held up a hand.

  “They’re not to be spoken lightly.”

  “Oh, of course. I had no intention of challenging you. Jakkis somehow neglected to teach me the phrase for ‘my mistake.’”

  He smiled. “It’s not commonly uttered among sword-dancers.”

  The magpie flew down to the terrace, and as though it had been the last expected guest, they began to eat.

  She lifted the mug with her left hand and clumsily ate her food with the same. “Jakkis says I need to grow more dexterous with this hand,” she explained, blushing when her boiled egg slipped through her fingers and landed in the mountain-king’s lap.

  “Yes, that’s the hardest part of sword-dancing.” He picked up the egg without comment. Dereth would have made at least two jokes about her clumsiness, and before he’d become king, would have arranged for some reciprocal embarrassment to befall her. A messenger from Kenasgate probably would have drawn his sword and declared it an attack. The mountain-king simply took a bite.

  “I don’t know any other use for two swords at the same time,” she said, clinging to the topic of conversation so there would be no chance to mention errant eggs. “I suppose it’s because outside Helsmont, just the one is expensive enough.”

  “Yes, they’re our most valuable trading goods.”

  After all, her people had asked him for a hundred of them. She flushed. “I didn’t mean to boast about my bride-price.”

  “I know your brother didn’t let you go lightly.”

  But he still let me go. Because you asked for me. The mountain-king was the last person she wanted to talk to about this. “We needed those swords.”