The Dragon's Throne

by Emily L K

  They galloped up the road as a smattering of the army came together and wheeled towards them. They came fast from the right and Cori was sure they would collide. She watched, jaw clenched and hands tight as they flew towards the other horses.

  And then they were past them. They escaped the lead horse by a bare length and Cori looked back under Rowan’s arm to see the army turn onto the road behind them. Sunny surged forward. The army was on their tail and the pounding hooves of so many horses was deafening.

  They gained the bridge and a wild laugh escaped her lips. She heard Rowan echo her. Sunny’s powerful muscles bunched beneath them and they raced up the bridge so fast she could almost imagine they were flying.

  The downward side was another matter, however. As they gained the peak of the bridge and began their descent she saw with horror that a huge wooden gate blocked their entry to the city. Rowan made no move to slow Sunny and with the army behind them Cori knew for certain they‘d be crushed.

  “Come on,” she heard Rowan growl. He pushed Sunny to go faster. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the impact. Then she heard a shout and the rattle of chains. Her eyes flew open in time to see the gate rising and Resso men shouting at them from the parapets of the gatehouse. She didn’t think the gate would be high enough but in moments they were under it, Rowan ducking his head as they went. The gate crashed closed behind them, splintering the wood.

  Rowan pulled on the reins and Sunny scrabbled to a stop on the cobblestones. They wheeled back to the gate in time to hear the squeals of the horses and the screams of the men on the other side. There were a series of thuds against the gate and Cori had to swallow bile.

  “Give them to us!” A Hearthian called up to the men on the parapets. “They must be arrested and brought to justice!”

  “They’re on Resso soil now,” a man on the parapets called back with a laugh. “They’ll be brought to justice here!”

  It was only then that Cori noticed the soldiers gathering around them. They‘d fled from one army only to ride into another. An armoured man stepped forward and beckoned them. “Get down,” he said and Rowan obliged him, sliding from Sunny’s back and throwing the reins over the horse’s head. He turned as Cori slid down and caught her by the waist. She hadn’t realised how badly she was shaking.

  “You’re under arrest,” the guard said and two more stepped forward with chains. Cori could hear the men on the parapets still yelling down to the Hearthian soldiers. She couldn’t push away her worry but she proffered her wrists the same as Rowan and allowed one of the guards to clamp the irons on her. Around them people were moving. One man led Sunny away and a few others formed a guard that circled them. The first guard who had spoken to them led them away from the gates and towards the towering keep in the centre of the city.

  What’s do we do? She asked Rowan.

  It will be fine, was his only response.

  A few guards stood between the two of them so she couldn’t verbalise her fears, but when she caught a glimpse of him he had a satisfied smile on his face.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cori had expected the guards to take them to the prison but instead they were escorted directly to the keep. It shouldn‘t have come as a surprise; she supposed that an on-the-run Karalis and his heir would garner more attention than most.

  They were taken directly to the throne room of the keep on the third floor. Tobin was waiting there for them when the guards escorted them in, a serious expression on his face.

  “Take those off,” he said irritably, gesturing to the irons that bound the Karalis’ wrists together. His irons were promptly removed and at a second gesture from the head of Resso, Cori’s were too. She rubbed her wrists where the heavy irons had been and watched in disbelief as Rowan strode forward with a grin on his face to shake Tobin’s outstretched hand.

  “I almost thought you weren’t going to let us in,” Rowan said with a laugh.

  “And let those Hearthian bastards get the credit for your capture and execution? Not a chance.”

  Cori’s eyes widened in alarm but Rowan merely laughed again and clapped Tobin on the shoulder, then both men turned to face her. If Tobin noticed the changed colour of her eyes, he said nothing about it.

  “Cori,” Tobin greeted warmly with a dip of his head, “welcome to Bandar Utara. How are you?”

  It was a strange question to ask considering the circumstances. She glanced at Rowan but he gave her no hints. “I am... well.”

  “Good,” Tobin rubbed his hands together and smiled indulgently. He was a big man; broad across the shoulders as well as portly around the middle. His beard, which Cori had always thought was a bit wild when he came to visit the palace, suited him up here in the cold northern state. He looked to Rowan. “Where should we start?”

  “A hot shower would be nice,” Rowan said, “we’ve been on the road for almost three weeks now.”

  “Of course!” Tobin declared, making a sharp gesture with his hand. A servant in white robes hurried forward and prostrated herself on the floor before Rowan. Tobin continued, “where are my manners? Sarra, please prepare a suite for the Karalis and the Lady Cori. Karalis, we can talk later.”

  Lady Cori. She struggled to keep herself from snorting in self-derision. Sarra signalled them to follow and Cori stepped in beside Rowan as the servant led them from the throne room and up several floors to what was obviously the living quarters. They encountered other servants as they went and Sarra hissed orders to them as they passed. Finally she stopped about halfway down a long stone corridor outside a set of double doors. She bowed low to Rowan.

  “My holy Karalis,” she murmured. “Your rooms are within. Hot water is being pumped as we speak and food will be provided shortly.” Rowan gave a single nod and without a second glance at either Cori or Sarra, he entered the room and closed the door.

  Sarra led Cori only a few more steps and stopped outside the next door; a single one only this time. Once more the servant bowed low. It made Cori uneasy; even when she’d been named heir, the servants at the palace had shown her about as much deference as they would to their meat goats. They were her family, and she missed them keenly. But this was a different household and different servants. She remained silent, the way Rowan had.

  “Your rooms, Lady Cori,” Sarra said demurely, keeping her eyes downcast. Cori pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  The room was spacious but sparsely furnished. A bed, big enough for two, was centred against one wall and directly opposite it was an unlit fireplace. A bare topped dresser was beside the doorway she was standing in and two armchairs were pushed into a far corner near a second door. The room only had one window, tall and narrow.

  Cori closed the door behind her and crossed the room to the other. There was a shower within and a washbasin on a bench. The back of her hand on the pipes told her the water was hot, so she stripped off her travelling clothes and turned on the tap. After so many weeks on the road, bathing in lakes and streams, the hot water on her skin felt divine, and she didn’t try to suppress her sigh of pleasure.

  When she returned to the bedroom, she found that the fire had been lit and a platter of bread, cheese and fruit had been set atop the dresser.

  There were a few items of clothing laid out on the bed and Cori pulled on a deep blue woollen day dress, slightly too long at the hem. It was sleeveless and showed off the horrific bruise on her arm and shoulder but the only other clothing provided to her was a nightgown and she couldn’t wear that.

  She moved to the dresser and rifled through the drawers, hoping to find something to cover her arms with. There were no shawls, but she found a hand mirror and she lifted it to look at herself.

  She didn’t know what she expected to see; perhaps that her grief had aged her, or that her eyes would be golden and full of wisdom. But the same skinny girl stared back at her, multi-coloured eyes flicking left and right, a slight crease between her eyebrows and the corners of her lips down-turned. Her blonde hair was perh
aps a little longer and her face a little leaner, but that was it. She sighed and placed the mirror back in the drawer then moved to the window.

  The view from her room was across the city and to the north. Directly below she could see a marketplace busy with people. They didn’t seem to be shopping though. Instead, they were leaving the stalls and heading along a main thoroughfare that twisted out of sight around the side of the keep. A knock sounded at the door accompanied by a feather light touch in her mind.

  Come in, she told him. She heard the door open and close then footsteps approaching. He stopped beside her and peered out the window. He didn’t comment on the commotion below though the crowd was moving more purposefully now and the clamour of so many people together reached their ears even from that distance.

  “Are we safe here?” Cori asked lightly. She was conscious of the fact that she was clenching the windowsill, but she couldn’t bring herself to let it go. “Are we just glorified prisoners waiting for our execution like Tobin said?”

  “Don’t worry,” Rowan assured her. He placed his hand over hers and carefully pried her fingers from the stone, “We’re safe here. Tobin is an ally.”

  “But he’s Hiram,” Cori turned to face him and suddenly noticed how closely they were standing. Rowan seemed to realise too, for he took a step away and gestured to the armchairs.

  “Not all Hiram are evil, you know that.”

  “I haven’t met a decent one yet,” she said, flinging herself into one of the chairs. Rowan lowered himself into the other.

  “What about Antoni?”

  Cori said nothing. She didn’t want to think about her old Hiram friends, Quart’s friends. In any case, how did she know Antoni hadn’t joined the ranks of Hiram crying for her head? She changed the topic.

  “How did you know Tobin would let us go? You’ve spoken perhaps ten words to him in his life, and none of them friendly.”

  Rowan gave her a cheeky grin. He had a lovely smile, Cori mused, boyishly handsome.

  “Have I ever told you I was born in Resso?”

  That surprised her. “No?”

  “Well I was, only a day’s travel north of here. My colouring,” he gestured to his dark hair, “tells it. Many of Resso’s people like to claim kinship with me because of it. Some go as far to claim they are a direct descendant.”

  “Is that possible?” Cori asked, though she didn’t really want to know. Rowan gave her a meaningful look.

  “Possible that my offspring are scattered around Resso?” He laughed at Cori’s scowl. “No, I don’t have children, which is what you’re really asking. But I’ve let the farce go on because I could see no purpose to dissuade it... And it certainly served our purpose well today, don’t you think?”

  Cori thought back to their race across the bridge and had to agree. She glanced up at the window again. Though she couldn’t see anything, the crowd was getting louder. It sounded like they were chanting.

  “Shall we go take a look?” He asked and stood up. He was wearing black pants and a grey shirt but despite his plain attire he still cast an impressively regal figure. Cori stood too, but she pressed a self-conscious hand to her bruised shoulder.

  “I better not,” she said, though she was desperate to know where the crowd was going. Rowan reached out and brushed the back of his hand down her arm.

  “I could heal them if you like, the colour anyway.”

  Cori remembered the last time he’d tried to heal her, the intimacy they‘d shared. He had known everything about her; her heart and soul. Her guilt of her mother’s death, her anguish over being away from Saasha and her confused feelings for him rose to her mind. No, she couldn’t let him know that. She flinched away. Rowan raised his hands to show he meant no harm, but he couldn’t quite disguise his hurt at her rejection.

  “Sorry,” Cori said, not quite meeting his eye. “I just - I just don’t think it would be wise.”

  “I understand.” She could tell he didn’t but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Rowan’s head tilted a little and she felt his Hum reach out; not to her but to someone else. She recognised the song he used to weave to influence the Hiram in his own court.

  He ended the song and reached for her hand, the one with the sapphire ring on it. She didn’t resist him and she watched him thumb the rock, twisting the ring around her finger. He didn’t say anything, but the gesture was both comforting and heartbreaking. She wondered what he‘d really intended when he’d given her the ring. She also remembered that same day had been the one when she’d gone on her first date with Quart. She couldn’t help wondering how different things would have turned out if she had just stayed in the garden that afternoon.

  There was a knock at the door and Rowan dropped her hand to answer it. A man stood on the other side, his eyes glazed in submission. Rowan took the material that the man proffered and closed the door.

  “This should work,” he shook out the material to reveal a grey and blue shawl. She couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Matching? Really?”

  “Why not?” He teased. He flourished the shawl then wrapped it across her shoulders. “We look good together, matching, don’t you agree?”

  Perhaps he does, she thought, but she couldn’t say the same for herself. She still thought of herself as a servant, not someone who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him as an equal. She stood obediently still as he arranged the shawl so it covered her bruises.

  “There,” he took a step back to admire his handy work then he offered his arm to her. She took it, reflecting on how their bantering used to be so easy, how they could touch each other without awkwardness. Now there was an undercurrent of tension and no matter how hard either of them tried they couldn’t diffuse it. They entered the corridor to find two guards stationed either side of Rowan’s door.

  “Hello Gentlemen,” Rowan said, “I was wondering when Tobin would think to post guards.”

  The two men gawked at Rowan and Cori then one turned to look at the door as if to check he was protecting the right one. Rowan made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Come on, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  They looked at each other, then in unison they bowed low. “Thank you, sir,” one of them uttered. Rowan gave Cori a gentle nudge, and they moved on down the hallway, the guards falling in behind them.

  When they returned to the throne room, one guard stepped forward to open the door. Rowan let go of Cori’s arm so she could enter before him. Her side suddenly felt chilled in his absence.

  It was loud in the throne room though there were only four people - not including the silent servants - within. As they crossed the room towards Tobin and the others he was standing with, Cori glanced at an archway that led to a balcony. The crowd must have been massed outside because the noise that echoed into the room was tumultuous.

  Tobin said nothing about the noise as they approached him. Instead, he beamed and indicated to the lovely - and heavily pregnant - raven haired woman on his right.

  “Karalis, Cori, please meet my wife Jhanna,” Jhanna inclined her head gracefully and Cori did the same. Rowan nodded but barely smiled. Cori made a mental note to speak to him about his manners. Again. “This is my son, Orin,” Tobin continued. A young man stepped forward and bowed low to Rowan before taking Cori’s hand and kissing her fingers. He raised his dark brown eyes to hers and smiled. He had a cockiness about him, a trait she knew was reserved for youths in high positions. He reminded her of Quart. At once she felt regretful and angry. She roughly pulled her hand away from Orin and received a mental jab from Rowan.

  Cut it out, he scolded her. Cori plastered a smile on her face but she turned her eyes from Orin and instead gave her attention to the elderly woman on Tobin’s right.

  “My mother,” Tobin presented. “You may remember her from -”

  “Don’t be silly, Son, he wouldn’t remember me. It’s been fifty years since I visited the palace with your father.”

  “Of course I remember you, Lady Elia,�
� Rowan said with an incline of his head. “How could I forget an auburn-haired beauty such as yourself dancing through my court?”

  Elia couldn’t keep from smiling as she raised a hand to touch her now white hair, flattered. Cori folded her lips in an attempt to quell her laughter at Rowan’s antics. She would have to ask him later if he did indeed remember Elia or if he had plucked the memory from her head.

  Elia jutted her chin at Cori. “So this is your heir that everyone has been talking about,” she observed, giving Cori an appraising look. “A bit on the scrawny side -”

  “Mother!” Tobin injected, horrified.

  Scrawny, Rowan teased.

  “- but it’s nice to see you’ve found a girl that makes you smile.”

  Cori blushed and avoided the sideways look Rowan gave her. thankfully at that moment a chant starting up from the crowd outside, diverting everyone’s attention.

  “I think they want to see you, Karalis,” Elia said with a frown, cupping a hand behind her ear to help her hear better.

  “Perhaps,” Rowan said. He nodded at Cori, “but it’s not my name they’re calling.”

  She tilted her head towards the archway to listen, confused.

  Cori, Cori, Cori, Cori, rose on the voices of the people and Cori’s eyes widened.

  “Oh no!” She whispered, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “What do they want?”

  “To see the heir to their realm!” Tobin said delightedly. “It’s not often the people of Resso get to see history in the making! Go, greet them!” He gestured emphatically at the archway and Cori had no choice but to approach it.

  Come with me, Cori begged. Rowan fell in by her left shoulder, a place she used to occupy behind him when she was his page. The positioning wasn’t lost on her. She was aware of Tobin and his family following at a distance.

  As she passed the guards at the archway, she could see across the top of the city to the river. The sun was getting low now, casting an orange hue on the water. The Hearthian army was on the other side, some of them still mounted, but most back in their camp. She reached the balustrade and wiped her sweaty palms on her dress before placing them firmly on the stone and leaning over the edge.