Heart of the Dragon's Realm

by Karalynn Lee

  “It’s a safe enough place. No predators, no rockfalls.”

  “Yes, but you don’t fuss about what embarrassing things I shouldn’t say, or how disheveled I might look.”

  “Your brother cared about these things?”

  “He didn’t, but he knew others did, and he was trying to keep me marriageable, poor man. I wish he could come meet you.” She ran idle fingers along his arm. “He did what he had to, but I know he was worried about me going off to marry a stranger.”

  “I sent him reassurances when I asked for your hand. But he’s certainly welcome if Anagard can spare him.”

  Anagard couldn’t, but that concern was suddenly subsumed by another. “What did you write him?”

  “That I would give you time to judge me yourself,” he said. “That I wouldn’t bind your spirit. That I would try to make you happy here.”

  “He never told me any of this!”

  “Perhaps he, too, wanted to let you judge on your own.”

  “It’s probably more that I stopped talking to him.” Those had been tense weeks.

  “Because he betrothed you to me?”

  She glanced away guiltily. “Yes.” She added quickly, “But I’ve come to feel differently about it. You know that.”

  “I’m sorry I left you wondering about me. I should have sent a letter to you directly, but I was told that in the riverlands, that would be considered unseemly. I knew you were untraditional, but I wasn’t sure of your brother.”

  “If anything, he encouraged me in my ways. At least until he took rule. He had to become more conventional then.”

  His arms tightened around her. “I don’t want the same to happen to you.”

  She craned her head back and pulled his mouth down onto hers. “Good,” she said once their kiss ended. “Because if Anagard couldn’t make me into a traditional woman, it won’t happen here. Is that enough reassurance? Will you wed me now?”

  “I count the days.”

  “You’ve spent months longer courting me than any lord in Anagard would have bothered with. And you’re making me wait even more.”

  “It’s tradition. It helps ensure the marriage is a strong one.”

  “And the betrothal tortuous.”

  “Has it been thus so far?”

  “Excruciating.”

  “You’re strong. You’ll survive.”

  She laughed, having expected to be cosseted. “Fine. I’ll see the year out. We’ve less than half to go, anyway.”

  He laid a gentle kiss upon her hair.

  Someone cleared his throat from the doorway and she looked over. Poor Rendel. She couldn’t begrudge him the interruption, for she was too happy with the world and everyone in it. And she knew he worked hard so as to disturb the mountain-king only when he had to. But there were limits to a seneschal’s power.

  She felt a sigh lift Tathan’s chest. “I must go.”

  “I know. You actually have a kingdom to rule.” She scooted down the bench so he could stand. “Places to go and important matters to consider.”

  Once he was on his feet, he bent down to kiss her one last time. “But no matter where in my realm my thoughts might dwell,” he said, “they return to you.”

  Chapter Six

  She wasn’t sure how people could tell, but they seemed to know as soon as they saw her. Merinee demanded details of all that had passed between her and the king. Rendel inquired about her preferences for the wedding ceremony, and even Beatris grinned at her knowingly. On her next trip to the bakery, Emeray glanced up from the dough she was kneading and exclaimed, “Oh, you’ve chosen!”

  Kimri put her hands to her heated cheeks and laughed. “I still have some time left in my betrothal period.”

  “No one ever decides on the very last day of the year. I would’ve married Samir the day he asked if I could have. I’m so glad. You’ve been good for our king, you know. He’s been staying in the city longer and roving less.”

  That startled her. “I thought he never left Helsmont.”

  “He doesn’t, not the kingdom. But there are the mines, of course, and plenty of hamlets elsewhere in these mountains, and he used to travel to them often. A restless heart, I think.”

  “He shouldn’t change because of me.” She was all too conscious of all the ways in which she was hardly a desirable bride.

  Emeray smiled indulgently. “Some people only need a reason. And the seneschal’s been run ragged these past few years. It’s time for our king to attend to his duties again.”

  There did always seem to be sleep-shadows under Rendel’s eyes, and she’d seen the way he practically had to ambush the king to get his attention. She’s right. Some of those duties would fall upon her—a thought that would have alarmed her once. But now that she knew the folk of the keep, she didn’t think she would have any trouble.

  She wrote Dereth, somehow finding words to describe her new feelings about the betrothal. He would be relieved she hadn’t run away or otherwise ruined this match. And she knew he would be happy for her. He hadn’t wanted her miserably married. If there had ever been rumors about the mountain-king, like there had been about that one Anagard lord and his women servants, Dereth would have never consented to the match.

  But although her brother usually found time to scribble at least a few sentences in reply, no response came. Did I shock him wordless? Perhaps she’d written too much about her own feelings and not enough about Tathan’s, and he thought hers a one-sided infatuation. That had been the one time she’d truly seen him tongue-tied, when he’d discovered her flirting with the terrified stable hand in Anagard. He’d eventually recovered enough to tease her for weeks afterward.

  But trader after trader came to Helsmont without a letter from Dereth. She even asked Merinee about sending a messenger, who would be able to wait for a response.

  “Your brother may be in constant battle,” Merinee said in one of her rare serious moods. “Traders say it’s gotten bloodier in the riverlands as of late.”

  Her mind shuddered away from the thought of Dereth lying injured on the battlefield, or even dead. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “What was there to tell? If I knew anything about your brother, I would let you know. But all I hear are vague rumors that’ll leave you wondering and worrying. I’d rather have a good reason to upset you. For all I know, you haven’t heard from him because paper and ink have become dear in the riverlands.”

  Although spring had warmed the days enough for her to go out riding, she took to haunting the city gates, waiting for travelers who might bear news. The guards had to chase her away with reassurances that they would send word as soon as they heard any. One of them must have reported the incident to the king, for at their next breakfast, Tathan, looking troubled, promised to send her next letter by a special messenger.

  She dashed to her room and began writing yet another message to Dereth. She tried to keep her tone offhand so he wouldn’t accuse her of fussing overmuch. Surely he’s fine, and he’ll write back to me grumbling about how many letters I’m swamping him with.

  Someone knocked at her door. “Princess?”

  It was Beatris, leading a man from Anagard who was travel-worn and wrapped in the many layers no native of Helsmont needed. She vaguely recognized him as a soldier who served under her brother—a man from the capitol, not one of those who followed one of the noble houses.

  “He says he’s come from your brother,” Beatris said. “He has a message for you.”

  Her gaze dropped to the man’s hands, but he held no scroll case. A spoken message from a soldier? Despite her unease, she smiled a welcome. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name—”

  “Gannet, my princess,”

  “So you know him?” Beatris asked.

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be within earshot, just in case,” Beatris said, and moved into the hall.

  “She means no insult,” Kimri started to reassure Gannet, but he fell to his knees and grasped her hands.


  “My princess, forgive me.” He pressed the backs of her hands against his forehead, hiding his face, but she could hear the tears in his voice.

  She felt cold. “What for?”

  “The king has been captured.”

  She snatched her hands back. “Dereth?”

  He nodded, still refusing to look up at her.

  “How?”

  “In battle. His horse was struck and he fell. He cried ransom, and we hear he is unharmed and will be returned once ransom is paid.”

  She wanted to weep with relief. “What’s the price?”

  He swallowed. “A thousand swords.”

  The blood ran out of her face. And I thought my bride-price was high. The king of Kenasgate asked for even more. He was effectively demanding Anagard’s surrender.

  She forced her voice to steadiness. “Who’s serving as regent?”

  “Peramin, my princess.”

  One of her older cousins, with a mild voice but stubborn streak. I suppose that runs in the family. She liked Peramin—he had sometimes joined in the swordplay lessons she coaxed from Dereth, treating it like a game—but she didn’t know how she felt about him as acting king. He had marriage ties to one of the noble houses that might make the others more reluctant to follow him.

  “What does he plan to do?”

  Gannet hesitated. “Fight on.”

  “Did he try to negotiate the price?”

  “The king of Kenasgate didn’t seem disposed toward negotiations.” Gannet finally met her gaze. “He sent our last messenger back on a donkey, having claimed the horse for his own. He said if the price didn’t seem fitting for a king, he might ask for steeds, as well.”

  She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. Dereth was worth any price to her, but demanding ransom was an established procedure, and while few could resist the opportunity for a bit of taunting, such blatant discourtesy was uncalled for.

  She must have made a sound, for Beatris strode back inside. “What is it?”

  Kimri spun to face her. “I must see the king.”

  Beatris didn’t question her, only gestured for her to follow.

  “My thanks, Gannet,” she said to the soldier. “Rendel, the seneschal, will see to you. I’ll do what I can for my brother.”

  She saw him slump against the wall before she had to turn and hurry to catch up to Beatris. The staccato of her steps seemed to underline her urgency.

  The commandant led her up one of the towers, where Tathan was speaking with one of the guards. He broke away when he saw her. “My heart. What’s wrong?”

  “Kenasgate has taken my brother captive.”

  He stood quite still. “So they’ve conquered Anagard?”

  “No, one of my cousins is leading our people and the army. But they have to get Dereth back.”

  Tathan looked at her steadily. “He is a king. They will not harm him.”

  “Is that what you’d want someone to say if you were captured?” she demanded.

  “I would never be so foolish as to become captured.”

  “That’s fine for you to say. You can sit atop your mountain without a care for what other realms are doing. Most kings don’t have that luxury.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I need one thousand swords. It’s the ransom-price.”

  “That’s enough for an entire army.”

  “Yes.”

  And he said, “No.”

  Tears of frustration pricked her eyes. “You don’t have to forge them all. I know it’s impossible for your smiths to work that fast. But you could buy some, and trade for more. And Anagard must still have some from my bride-price.”

  “One thousand swords would give Kenasgate the courage to attack any kingdom it liked. Even mine.”

  “You have to ransom him!”

  “The terms of our alliance were that I would never attack Anagard and keep Kenasgate raiders outside my borders,” he said. “I never promised to help defend Anagard. And I can’t pay the ransom for the king of another realm.”

  She couldn’t stand his reasonableness. She pivoted sharply and stalked out of the tower. Tathan was too wise to call after her.

  The courtyard was full of people, but their faces all seemed blurred and she waved away the greetings she received, unable to tell whom they came from. The stables offered solace. In there, Redwing was a welcome presence, nuzzling her with a warmth she sorely needed.

  “I’m going for a ride,” she said. The stable hand shaped half a protest with his lips before he saw her face and his objection withered. He helped tack her horse and she swung herself up into the saddle. She rode out of the city at a fast clip.

  She remembered the path Yerra had recommended to her, off to the north, and set off in that direction. Her mare picked up her tension and moved into a canter despite the uphill incline. At least her horse bothered to notice that she was upset.

  No, that’s not fair. Tathan understood her feelings. He simply refused to act.

  Fuming, she paid little attention to her surroundings until there came a sound like a crack of thunder from above. She looked up to see a rocky part of the mountain break off and tumble toward her. Gravel skittered into their path first, and her mare tried to sidestep even as Kimri urged her forward and out of the way. Then a jagged boulder hurtled down toward them. Redwing reared as though her lashing hooves could shatter the stone.

  A sudden lurch—

  Kimri hit the ground hard, her shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. She instinctively pulled her feet free of the stirrups and rolled off to one side as she heard Redwing neigh, far too close to her ear. She threw her arms over her head and cowered as scattered pieces of rock continued to fall down. The air tasted of dust.

  When at last the rumbling stopped, she gasped in a breath and scrambled to her feet. She heard Redwing and ran to her, heedless of her bruises and the rocks underfoot. The mare lay on her side, flailing about, voice shrill. Kimri caught her head and held it in her lap, saying meaningless words while fighting for calm so she wouldn’t upset her horse further. “My beauty, dear heart, I’m sorry. Please be still. I’m sorry…” But she could already tell it was hopeless from the ugly angle of one of the forelegs. Her stomach pinched.

  Steady hoofbeats punctuated her horse’s screams. She looked up to see a mounted figure coming closer and recognized who it was even through her tears. Beatris had followed her.

  The commandant rode up and dismounted, looking down at the frantic mare with a dispassionate eye. “I’ll take care of her.” Although her voice was neutral, her mouth drew tight.

  Kimri managed to say, “Thank you,” through the lump in her throat. Helsmont takes everything from me. Her home, brother, her horse… She soothed her wild-eyed mare as best she could while Beatris knelt and swiftly used her sword.

  She gave in to the racking sobs she’d been holding back, feeling Redwing’s blood splash hot on her hands and the thrashing stop. It took far too long for her to swallow the remainder of her tears and give her mare’s muzzle one last stroke before staggering to her feet.

  Beatris, she realized muzzily, was still with her, having waited patiently through the storm of her weeping. She didn’t know if she loved or hated the commandant for killing Redwing and ending her pain. She kept staring at the still remains, trying to see her mare’s warm spirit in that broken mass.

  “There’s no sense staying here,” Beatris said at last, and Kimri only noticed then how long the shadows had stretched. “Let’s head back.”

  She looked up at the commandant. “Did you follow me here?”

  “Yes. I thought you might ride all the way to Kenasgate on your own to try to rescue your brother. But you took the northern path instead, and I almost let you go. I kept following, though.”

  She dredged up the proper words. “Thank you.”

  Beatris ignored the thanks. “Come on.” She gestured. “Get on.”

  She backed away, aghast. She can’t be serious. �
�You saw what I did!”

  “You didn’t know that rockfall would happen,” Beatris said in her matter-of-fact way. “You’re still inexperienced with these mountain paths.” But she let Kimri walk alongside her as she led her horse on foot back to the city.

  Inside the gates, she looked straight ahead, meeting no one’s gaze. Beatris made her stop at the well to wash off the worst of the blood and brusquely shooed away anyone who tried to show any concern. For once, Kimri didn’t even notice the chill of the water. Then Beatris took her to the keep, pausing only briefly at the stables to thrust her horse’s reins into the stable hand’s hold.

  “The princess’s horse—” he began.

  Beatris said curtly, “Hold your tongue,” as Kimri felt her chest tighten again.

  The commandant marched her up to her chamber, numb legs and all. “Change your clothes.”

  Kimri looked down at them and realized that the blood had splashed onto her tunic. “I’ll call for water.”

  A bath won’t help. But she obediently washed anyway. Beatris checked the worst of her bruises before she allowed Kimri to dress again.

  “There’s nothing seriously wrong with you physically, but…” Beatris sighed. “I’ll get the king.”

  “No!” She sprang to her feet and found herself standing in the doorway, arms spread as though she could bodily stop the commandant. “I can’t see him.”

  Beatris paused. “Very well. I won’t tell him, not now. Get some rest. I’ll let people know they should leave you be for tonight.”

  She let Beatris pass and heard the door close behind her. She’d been afraid she would start crying the moment she was alone, but her tears were locked inside of her. She sat on her bed and buried her face in her hands. How can I bring Redwing back? How can I get ahold of a thousand swords?

  The answer was stark. I can’t.