Sea Dragon Heir

by Constantine, Storm

  THAT NIGHT, VALRAVEN WENT alone to his private chambers and did not visit those of his new wife. She was too ill, muttering and writhing upon her bed. Pharinet and Khaster should have returned to Norgance that evening, but as none of the Leckerys felt they could leave while Ellony was so ill, Pharinet’s wedding night would pass in her own room. She felt it prudent to look in on her friend before retiring. Everna, Dimara and Saska were still in attendance, with one of the physician’s assistants nearby. Ellony was snarling, fighting with the single sheet that covered her, her body slick with sweat. Her wound had not yet been closed, in order for any poison remaining to drain away. A sweet, rotten smell hung in the air. “This was to be her night,” Saska said. “How is Valraven, Pharinet? Does he understand why he cannot come to her?” “I think so,” Pharinet answered, “although I had little chance to speak with him this evening.” She paused. “Is there anything I can do?” “Go and await your own husband,” Everna said. “It would be ill indeed if none of you consummated your nuptials this eve.” Pharinet felt pricked by Everna’s tone and choice of words. She left without another word and went back to her own room. All of her possessions had been packed in trunks and stood in her salon awaiting transport to Norgance. Her bedroom seemed cold and echoing as if her presence had already left the castle. She sat down on the bed and wept silent tears. Her body was perfectly still. Presently, she took off her wedding gown and her underwear, and let down her hair. The shutters were closed, so she opened them and stood in the beams of moonlight that came down through the clouds. What she could see of the beach looked white and distant. No shadows covered the moon. Last night seemed like a dream now. She wanted to go to Valraven, press her flesh against his. She wanted to know his thoughts. It was not Khaster’s imminent advent that prevented her. She was afraid that Everna would know. Pharinet paced in the moonlight. She felt full of energy, glad that Ellony could not have her wedding night. In just a short time, Khaster and Valraven would leave Caradore once more, and Ellony would still be virgin. Who directed the fate of the Palindrakes but the dragons? It was Foy’s will that this should happen. Pharinet recalled her bitter words, which earlier she had spoken into the mirror. Dragons take you. Had she cursed Ellony? Her anger and resentment dissipated a little. She saw Ellony twisting on her bed, poison oozing from an injury that would never heal. It must surely be Pharinet’s own venom that leaked from the wound. Have you come to this? Pharinet asked herself. Are you simply a spiteful, cruel creature? Ellony is your oldest friend. Circumstances have decreed she must be Valraven’s bride. Why punish her for it? Guilt tortured the fibers of Pharinet’s body. She had used the power of the dragons for harm. Yet there was something else moving within her, something fiery and fierce. Was this the presence of Madragore, who had presided over the weddings, and who might, in some lofty spiritual realm, be condemning Pharinet for her viciousness? Pharinet did not think so. It felt too elemental and wild, too delicious. Khaster broke her thoughts by opening the door. She wondered what his first impression was of his young wife standing naked and unashamed by the window. She hoped he’d been expecting a demure, nervous girl. She padded towards him on silent feet, not daring to look behind for fear she would see the floor smoking where she?d trodden. “Pharinet,” he said and she pressed her body against him, winding her arms about his neck. “Here I am,” she said. His lips felt cold beneath hers, but she could feel his heart beating fast, as if he were afraid. He had been drinking with the men, with Valraven and Montimer. They would have been laughing together, or perhaps not. Perhaps Ellony’s illness had bled all happiness from the gathering. What would Khaster say if he knew the truth about it? Pharinet put her hands in his hair, raked his scalp with her nails. He gasped and broke away from her, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to their bed. “I don’t know you,” he said, kneeling over her. “What are you?” She laughed and reached up to undo his shirt. “I am yours, my husband.” He must have known she was no virgin, but did not comment. Perhaps he could also tell how recently she’d been deflowered. Her body ached, yet she hungered for him. It was a fire that Valraven had kindled within her. Afterwards, he lay like a dead thing beside her, breathing heavily. Pharinet felt languorous and replete. He had proved himself to her; she was not disappointed in him. His thoughts, however, remained unknown to her. She leaned over him, draping him with a shawl of tangled hair. “Are you happy?” she asked him. He reached up and twisted a lock of her hair in his fingers. His expression was introspective. “You are a sorceress,” he said in a low voice, “I am enchanted.” “But happy?” He nodded. “Yes. Will you save that fire for me?” His voice did not sound happy. “Once you are gone, there will be no other to ignite me.” He pulled her down into his arms. “You have shaken me,” he said and laughed softly. “I had always believed marriage to be as my parents portrayed it, something safe and staid. With you, that will not be so.” “I will be faithful to you, Khas. You must not fear.” He stroked her face. “I feel I have no right to demand your fidelity. You are apart from me, as Val is apart from Ellony. It is by circumstance alone that I now share your bed.” “Don’t be gloomy,” Pharinet said. “Perhaps you will get me with child, and there will a son or daughter to greet your next leave.” He smiled, but with sadness. “That would please me. Do you think it’s likely?” “Possible,” she answered. He sighed. “But what of my sister?” “You must not worry. I’m sure she will be well by the next time you come home.” “That’s not what I mean,” he said. He rolled Pharinet onto her back, holding down her arms with his hands. “I’m not sure this marriage will be good for her.” “How?” Pharinet murmured. Khaster released her and sat up. “Val has changed, Pharry. I didn’t want to speak to you of this, but I must.” “Of course you must. Your concerns are now mine.” Her heart pulsed painfully beneath her ribs. “You must not speak of this to Val.” “I won’t. You have my word.” She knelt up behind him and circled his waist with her arms, laying her cheek against his smooth back. “Tell me your heart.” “Ellony is an innocent,” he said. “I don’t think she can understand or cope with the man she has married.” “It was her choice. She longed for it.” “She longed for a dream,” Khaster said, “like something out of a story.” “She has married Valraven; she has her dream.” “Has she? Listen.”