by Karalynn Lee
“When’s the last time the river-dragon woke?”
“Before I was born. I suppose the ferrymen have been diligent about their propitiations since. Do you make offerings?”
“No, but ours is a benevolent dragon. It protects us, not extorts us.”
“Since when did dragons care about humans?”
“They’re as individual as people are.” Merinee shrugged. “Some care, some don’t. Ours does.”
“Is it ever seen?”
“Once a year there’s the Twelfth Moon festival.”
She couldn’t help smiling. They had an annual festival in Anagard too, when hundreds of lanterns were strung up and several men in a single long dragon costume danced through the streets. Underneath, the men wore masks that were revealed when they broke away from each other at the end of the dance, meant to show how dragons came in many guises. “When do you celebrate it?”
“You only missed it by a month or so. But it’ll come again in just less than a year.”
“Well, I’ll be here,” Kimri said wryly. In less than a year she would likely be married.
“I hope so.”
Merinee’s frankness surprised her. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“If you don’t take to our king…”
It had been a thought that came to her out of idle curiosity from time to time, but one she quickly quelled. She cautiously explored it now. “So I could truly refuse to wed him?”
“Of course. The whole point of the betrothal year is so that you can decide one way or another.”
Kimri forbore from mentioning that, while the people of Helsmont would apparently abide by her choice, those of Anagard weren’t expecting even the possibility of her return. Dereth had thought she’d enter Helsmont one day and be wed the next, and she hadn’t bothered to enlighten him yet. “It would be easier to decide if he were around.”
Merinee didn’t seem worried by her king’s absence. “He’ll be back once he’s done at the mines.”
As days slipped into weeks without his return, Kimri visited Herrol regularly and took him about Helsmont to the new places she’d discovered through Merinee. It was strange how she knew so much more of the city than he did. He’d been here exactly as long as she had, after all.
“Are negotiations still dragging on?” she asked him one day in the watchtower, when the snow precluded a walk about the city. She’d earlier caught a glimpse of a messenger from Kenasgate consulting with Rendel.
He looked blank. “Negotiations?”
“For your release.”
“Oh.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “My father is a stingy man.”
She didn’t envy the poor messenger who must be making all the journeys to Helsmont as the bargaining dragged on. “Dereth told the mountain-king what he wanted and asked what it would take. He didn’t take long to decide once word came back I was the price.” She was still a little bitter about it.
“See? Both our relatives want us gone. Yours bargained you away, and mine refuses to take me back.”
The absurdity of his words helped clear her anger. “I suppose it might as well wait until spring. It’d be a rough journey down the mountain right now.” She shivered at the thought of traveling in all that snow. Some mornings she woke to find it piled ankle-deep, although the someone always cleared the courtyard and the terrace in time for her lessons and breakfast.
“It might actually be nice to stay here. It’s peaceful, at least.” He ran absent fingers along a scar on his jaw, where even the beginning bristles of a beard refused to grow.
She understood. She was tired of the war, and she hadn’t even fought in it. There had always been occasional skirmishes between their realms, but in the past, Anagard had been mostly caught up with infighting among its noble houses. Only the border lords had dealt regularly with Kenasgate. But hostilities had crescendoed during her father’s reign, and Dereth had become king of an embattled realm.
She gazed toward the distance, where both their homelands lay. “Do you think the war will ever end?”
He passed a hand over his eyes. “What do you want me to say? I want it to end when Kenasgate defeats Anagard, of course. We lost our chance for a treaty when one of my brothers died inside your borders, and when your father was killed in battle. I don’t know what will let us put that aside.”
“I don’t blame you for my father’s death,” she said, surprised. “He died fighting. That’s the risk of war.”
“What if your brother fell?”
She fell silent. Dereth was another matter. She wanted to say it was because her father had possessed a warrior’s spirit, and he wouldn’t have wanted to perish any other way but by a sword on a battlefield. But it was because Dereth was dearer to her heart, and she would never forgive anyone who took him from her.
“I don’t think I would bring others into that quarrel,” she said finally.
“You don’t have a choice in these matters when you’re a ruler.” His mouth settled into a grim line. “And there was no worse man in all of Kenasgate who could have been killed than my older brother. Zayen was the best of us, and my father knew it. He would have become a good king.”
“Then he shouldn’t have gone raiding in Anagard.”
“He wasn’t—” Herrol broke off and ran his hands through his hair as though to comb away troubled thoughts. “Never mind. We’ll never agree who began this all.”
He seemed truly upset. She’d just been imagining what it’d be like to lose her brother, while he’d already lost his.
“What was he like?” she asked.
“Zayen?” He made a helpless gesture, as though she asked him to describe music to a deaf man. “He took to anything—swordplay, diplomacy, dancing. He could always make you smile, although he didn’t laugh often himself—he was just so earnest all the time. Our father loved him and was always giving him hounds and horses. It would’ve been easy for me to hate him for that, but he always had a kind word for me and Leden, and he often passed along our father’s gifts to us. I learned to ride on a horse he gave me.”
She heard the unburied grief in his words and gentled her voice. “I’m sorry he’s gone.”
He shook his head, waving off the need for mawkish sentiments. “Sometimes I think I miss him more for how he kept my father happy. I never pleased the man in my life, and it’s soured him to look at me and realize I’m his heir.”
She understood parental disapproval. “I suppose that was my saving grace, that I wasn’t heir. And Dereth did well enough, so our father counted him as a success and paid little attention to me.”
“What about your mother?”
“She passed away when I was young, so she never had a chance to teach me to act like a proper princess. I just followed Dereth around.”
“I buried myself in books.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Leden was always trailing behind Zayen like a gosling, though.”
Leden was his younger brother, she recalled. “Does your father disapprove of him too?”
“He might well become the heir. It’s hard to tell—he’s still young and impulsive. But he certainly took easily enough to soldiering.”
To killing the people of her homeland, he meant. An awkward silence settled between them.
They both avoided speaking of the war thereafter. It was hard for him, she knew, for he heard little of what was happening in the riverlands, while she at least got occasional word from her brother, even during the snowy season when traders became scarcer. His letters were always brief, but she treasured every word.
When the seneschal delivered Dereth’s latest missive, she took it straight to her room to read it in privacy. She’d developed the habit after growing teary-eyed over his first letter. But she found herself opening this one with cheerful anticipation and only a touch of her usual wistfulness.
Sister: I trust you’re well.
I have family news to report. Irian—the girl our cousin Wedol married—had a baby girl. Both are well, and although Wedol�
�s arm is still healing, he can carry his daughter with the other and is already doting upon her. I can’t help wishing that someone would have a son, as I’ve no time to wed and sire one myself, and an heir would be quite useful in these fraught times. Perhaps a nephew?
Rain made things a muck at Talaston, but we won both the battle and a brief respite, I think. Still, several men were injured. We’ll be asking fresh-faced boys to fight next, and I can’t even tempt them by promising your hand to the bravest any more.
Despite the war still ongoing, things seem quieter here without you.
She rolled her eyes at his heavy-handed hints but ended up smiling by the time she finished reading. She folded his letter and took up her own quill. Rendel had told her if she wrote a reply quickly, he could give it to one of the traders leaving for Anagard on the morrow.
My dearest brother: as always, I hope you’re safe and hale.
The mountain-king is away from the city, which leaves me to breakfast with the prince of Kenasgate. I would offer you cleverly garnered intelligence save that he knows even less of what’s happening in the riverlands than I do.
Kiss the baby girl for me. I’ll try to send a hundredth-day gift with a trader or a messenger going your way. Did you know they have messengers here who are women? No one here reprimands me for unseemly behavior, because I’m not expected to act meek and frail.
Not to say that I’m escaping all scolds. I’m learning sword-dancing from an imposing instructor who cares not at all that I’m female and only that my left arm is feeble compared to my right. I know, you are shocked that I’ve been neglecting my archery, but we both know I never really liked hunting much in any case—it was just a way to escape court.
I haven’t told you much about Helsmont before because I thought you might disapprove, but you’re the one who sent me here in the first place. So despite your hints that you expect me to be bearing already, you should know that mountain betrothals last a year, after which either person can cry off. I won’t, don’t worry, and I don’t think I’ve scared the mountain-king away yet. But I’m still not wed. Perhaps by the time it happens, you’ll be able to come see me. Because I miss you too.
Chapter Five
One morning she walked up the northwestern tower to collect her breakfast, only to find the mountain-king seated in his usual place and the magpie perched on its ledge. “You’re back!” She flailed about for something intelligent to say after that painfully obviously statement. “How are the mines?”
“Safe now.” He looked weary but smiled a welcome at her.
The northwestern tower suddenly seemed to have been set aright, as though it’d been leaning off balance without his weight upon that bench. She sat next to him. The terrace felt warmer with him here, although perhaps that was just his bulk shielding her from the wind. “I thought I’d scared you away with my dancing.”
“Hardly. I wouldn’t have left so suddenly except that one of the mine shafts collapsed.”
She smothered her gasp with her hand. “What of the miners?”
“Several were trapped and injured, but they were brought out and they’re now recovering.” He poured her milk.
“They were brought out?” No wonder he’d been gone awhile. That must have entailed a monstrous amount of digging.
“Yes. And then I reinforced the rest of the mine to make sure this won’t happen again.”
She shivered as she cradled her mug with both hands. She couldn’t imagine a worse fate than to be trapped deep within the bowels of the earth, air scarce and light extinguished. As a child, she’d once hidden from Dereth in a barrel, only to fall asleep and awaken penned inside. It had taken him an eternity of hours to find her, and even today she avoided small spaces. These miners had been trapped for entire days. She would prefer a quick dagger to her throat.
But the miners had been given wind and sunlight again. Or wind, at least. Clouds were gathering in the sky, and the air carried the promise of snow. “It was good of you to attend to it personally.”
“I’m their king. And I know these mountains like no one else.”
Surely not better than the miners themselves. But she understood the need to be present even if only to witness what was happening. “I’m glad everyone’s safe. You should eat. You look tired.”
He dutifully tore off a piece of bread. “I traveled back here last night.”
She paused just before taking a bite. “At night?”
“I know these mountains,” he reminded her. “And the moon was bright.”
To be fair, there were some areas in the riverlands she could traverse in the dark. She and Dereth had certainly had their share of nighttime escapades as children. For a moment her heart ached for her homeland, but she shook off her melancholy. She was here now and determined to learn more about this place and this man.
“Would I ever need to visit the mines?” she asked. “As queen.”
“I think the miners would be delighted by it. They were quite curious about you, although they seemed to already have a remarkably detailed description.”
Thanks to messengers, no doubt. Merinee had mentioned they brought gossip as often as actual missives. “I’m curious too. But I meant in cases of crisis.”
“No one will expect it of you.” He cocked his head. “Did your brother attend to such matters?”
“If a disaster struck he would send a messenger to see how bad things were, then lower the taxes accordingly. If there was a food shortage, sometimes he would pull from the stores to supply them. But the worst calamity of his reign has been the war with Kenasgate. For that he does his share of fighting, and I don’t know what else he can do.”
“Do you wish he wouldn’t fight?”
“How could I ask that?” It was a matter of honor for him to lead his soldiers instead of ordering them into battle while he stayed safely behind. “I just wish Kenasgate would stop attacking.”
His brows lifted. “Only Kenasgate?”
Almost by reflex she said, “They’re the ones who turned this into outright war. We never were trying to take their land.”
“Only raid their borders.”
She looked at him sharply but he sat there as calm as ever. Her shoulders were hunched as though against an attack and she let them drop. He was only stating facts with the dispassion of an outsider. “Some of the border lords did cause trouble with raiding. I don’t know how that started. But the lords of the noble houses have always been at odds with one another. Maybe it spread to Kenasgate at some point, or maybe Kenasgate decided to take advantage of the constant raiding. We’ve never been as peaceful as Helsmont.”
“It’s easy to avoid being raided when you don’t have anything worth stealing. Except our iron, but our mines are hard to reach.”
“Goats,” she suggested. They were everywhere in Helsmont that she could see.
“You’ve never herded goats, have you?”
She shook her head.
“They’re really not worth raiding over.”
“So you’re saying Helsmont keeps peace by being poor?”
“And our guards are well-trained. Although by now their reputation may be more fearsome than their skill.”
She almost asked, What about the dragon? But she didn’t want to risk his scorn. “I think it’s the uphill climb,” she said instead. “Quite tiring. And if anyone slogs up to attack, you can roll boulders down on them.”
He laughed and she grinned at him triumphantly. Then his attention shifted. “Or snowballs.”
She followed his gaze to the white specks that were beginning to drift downward. “It’s snowing again?” There had been several weeks of regular snowfall now. The riverlands had only occasionally gotten a sprinkling in the deepest of winter.
“Winter lasts longer in the mountains.” He looked back at her and braced himself to stand. “We can breakfast indoors.”
His tone was perfectly courteous, but she sensed his reluctance. She forced her expression into a semblance of ch
eer for his sake. “No need. We’re just under that ledge overhead, so we won’t get snowed on.”
“There’s wind.” But he settled back onto the bench. “Today this will do, since the snow’s light. I’ll find a better place tomorrow.”
“But you like to look over your realm.” It was strangely important to her that she not disrupt his habits.
He met her gaze directly. “I don’t like seeing my betrothed freeze herself blue.”
She offered a compromise. “Let’s see how the weather is tomorrow.” She had the sense that before she’d come along, he would have been content sitting through a blizzard, but she wasn’t quite so stolid. His thoughtfulness touched her.
“So how has your time been spent while I was away?”
“I met Merinee. She’s been good company. And we’ve been training messenger ponies together.”
“You don’t mind the work? I was under the impression that the noblewomen of Anagard don’t labor in stables.”
“I was never a typical noblewoman.” Although she’d had her share of snobbery to discard, here in a kingdom without a court or noble houses or maidservants. “And I always liked horses. That might be the worst part about winter here—I can’t go riding outside the city. Redwing isn’t used to this much snow.”
“Yes, I hear that fortunes shift among the guards during this season as they’re driven to dice.”
Gambling with the mountain-king promised to be entertaining. She eyed him speculatively. What stakes would entice him into a game? “Breakfast on the rooftops?”