The Dragon's Throne

by Emily L K

  “Hello,” he said politely.

  “What do you want?” Cori asked, stepping away from him. He frowned at her and, remembering what started her fight with Rowan the night before, she sighed.

  “I’m sorry,” she told him.

  “That’s all right,” he said with a smile. He had wiry black hair like his father but at his age it didn’t seem wild, merely unkempt.

  “So we’ll be going to war together soon,” he mused.

  “Your father is letting you go to war?” Cori asked sceptically. Orin looked affronted.

  “The Karalis is taking you to war isn’t he? Unless he’s making you sit on the sidelines?”

  “He wouldn’t dare,” she muttered. She gazed at the city view. It was getting light; they would need to leave soon.

  “Do you have magic like him?” Orin asked curiously. Cori met his friendly brown eyes. She wasn’t sure what the Hiram knew about Dijem magic so she countered with her own question.

  “Do you have your father’s magic?”

  Orin frowned again. “I was never selected to go to the school of Auksas.”

  “But he taught you to use it anyway, didn’t he?” His silence told her everything she needed to know. She heard voices behind them and turned her head to see Tobin and Rowan walking together across the throne room.

  “One thing,” she said to Orin as she stepped away. “Make sure you practice before we go to war. I don’t want you forgetting what to do in the heat of battle.” Like Daze and his party, she added silently, they hadn’t even thought to use their magic before they died.

  She re-entered the throne room and moved to stand beside Rowan who was dressed and ready to go with the pack over his shoulder and his sword in hand. He continued talking to Tobin but his hand brushed hers in acknowledgement. Her skin tingled at the contact and she felt an ache in her stomach. Why was it that when he touched her it felt so significant yet was seemingly meaningless? She was trying to be angry, trying to let go of her feelings for him, and gestures like that made it all the more difficult.

  “A week and a half,” Rowan reminded Tobin, “then we’ll be back.”

  “We’ll be ready,” Tobin said with a slight frown. “Are you sure you won’t at least take a tent? The storms are bad at this time of year.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Rowan assured him.

  “Very well then.” He and Rowan shook hands then a guard showed them to the stables and left them there.

  Rowan put Sunny’s bridle on and led the destrier from his stall. Cori moved beside the horse, trailing her hand down his neck. She prepared to mount up but Rowan caught her arm and stopped her. She faced him and he placed his hand on her cheek. It was heart wrenching; why was she feeling like this now when she had so calmly decided that neither of them was right for the other only the night before?

  “We’re all right, aren’t we?” He asked softly, and she averted her eyes from his. No apology, but she supposed they were beyond that. There was only so many times they could say it before it lost its meaning. She moved her face and his hand dropped away. He stepped back, but she didn’t get on the horse. The stables were pungent with the smell of unmucked manure and horse hair. Cori watched Rowan, and he returned her gaze with a guarded expression.

  “You could have stopped the riot at the palace, couldn‘t you?” She confronted him. In light of learning that he’d known well in advance about the uprising, coupled with her memory of his easy immobilisation of hundreds of his subjects in the throne room, she wondered why he’d let a war start in favour of killing Cadmus first. He looked momentarily surprised, then guilty, before his expression settled into a reserved one. Before he could explain himself, she swung herself up onto the horse. She didn‘t want to hear what excuses he had. His guilt was enough of an admission, and anything he said now wouldn’t change what had happened. For a long moment he stared down at the pack in his hands, seeming to struggle with what to say. Sunny shifted beneath her and she waited. Would they argue again? Would he apologise? Finally he decided to say nothing. He handed her the pack and the sword, as always, then swung up behind her. His arms came around her to collect the reins and urged the horse out of the stables.

  The city was mostly quiet as they passed through it. Sunny’s hooves echoed off the cobblestones as they walked the winding, flat streets. The few people they saw averted their eyes, up to not much good. They reached the northern gate without hassle and meandered under it. She felt a brush against her barriers and was surprised to find it was Rowan. She let them down hesitantly.

  Won’t Daiyu find us? She asked.

  No, her mind is elsewhere. But we’re close to them now. Keep yourself small.

  As they lost sight of the gate and the sun rose, Rowan urged the horse to go faster. Sunny leaped into a light canter and Cori had to clutch at his mane to keep from sliding off. Rowan’s arm came tight around her waist to hold her steady.

  For a moment her body resisted, but the morning sun mixed with the crisp air rushing past them made her relax into the rocking gait. For a time she forgot her problems and allowed herself to simply be. She felt with both her body and mind the strong man at her back and his arm about her; the wind whipping her hair back from her face and the powerful surge of the beast beneath them.

  They travelled at an easy canter for hours and Sunny never seemed to tire. But it was all too soon that they stopped to rest. They plunged through a creek then Rowan pulled Sunny up on the opposite bank and dismounted. Cori slid down too, her face tingling from the frigid air. Before Rowan could speak to her, she turned her back on him and headed a little way down the creek. large, grey rocks rose from the water and she selected one to sit on, watching the current flow downstream, and the mid-morning sunlight glisten on the surface.

  She wasn‘t ready to talk yet, not ready for him to try to fix things. Now that everything was on the table and she’d said what she’d needed to say, she found no more blocks in the way of considering her feelings for him. Logically, it was hard to imagine them together for any degree of time without constant clashes, but when they were alone all day like this, connected mind and body as they were, she found it difficult to stop her heart falling for him. He didn’t intrude on her contemplation, but he did wave her back quite quickly.

  “There’s a storm coming,” he told her casually. “We should try to get as far as we can before it hits.”

  Resso’s landscape was mostly flat grass plains with occasional undulating hills, intersected with a farmstead here and there. They could see the storm brewing on the horizon, black and foreboding. Cori watched as they approached it - or as it approached them - with fascination. While they might occasionally get a small gale blow off the coast in Lautan, they never got wild weather like this.

  The storm reached the sun in the late afternoon and the day suddenly turned bleak. Cori craned her head back to stare at the roiling clouds above them. The wind picked up, and it had nothing to do with the speed they were travelling at.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Rowan said behind her, his voice catching on the wind. She pretended not to hear him though she agreed.

  A jagged spear of lightning flashed overhead, followed moments later by a sharp clap of thunder that shook the ground. Cori jumped, swore and almost fell off the horse. Rowan caught her, but they were both unbalanced and he had to pull Sunny to a jarring halt. They righted themselves and for a moment sat in silence. Then Rowan burst into laughter.

  “Shut up,” Cori told him, slapping his thigh, but he only laughed harder. He was almost breathless and she could feel him shaking behind her, his arms wrapped across his stomach.

  With a huff she picked up the reins herself and kicked Sunny forward. She felt Rowan jolt behind her at the sudden movement but it did nothing to abate his mirth. And Cori smiled though she tried hard not to. They may fight and disagree, maintain stony silences against each other more often than not, but she could never stay angry at him or try to separate herself from him, not when being toge
ther like this was so natural. Whatever happened, romantically or no, they would be in this until the end of forever. They had beaten the odds too many times for it to be any other way.

  Her sudden realisation was freeing, and she let other doubts leave her on the winds of the storm. She would allow whatever happens to happen and worry about the consequences as they arise.

  After a while Rowan’s laughter subsided, but he made no move to take the reins from her. Instead he sat, hands on his own hips and watched the storm. Occasionally a chuckle escaped his lips and Cori would smile at the sound though she studiously remained facing forward.

  The lightning and thunder was more frequent now, though Cori didn’t jump again, and before long the first fat droplets of rain fell, hitting them on the face and shoulders. A deep, earthy smell rose to meet them as the rain hit the road beneath the horse‘s hooves and Cori drew it in with a deep breath.

  “This way.” Rowan pointed to a single dirt track that let from the main road. Cori hadn’t even seen it, overgrown with grass as it was, but she put pressure on the reins and Sunny picked his way down the track.

  The storm had completely blackened the sky, and the rain was falling more insistently when they reached the log hut in the middle of the meadow. It was not in a complete state of disrepair, but the small porch at the front was overrun with creeping vines and the roof was rusted brown. Rowan dismounted first and Cori handed him their belonging before climbing down herself. He put his arm across her shoulders and they walked towards the hut. Just let it be easy, she told herself.

  “This,” he said as they gained the porch, “is where I was born.”

  “Really?” Cori examined the hut with renewed interest. It wasn’t somewhere she expected the Karalis of Tauta to be born.

  “Well not right here,” he smiled wryly, “But on this farm. There was a farmhouse,” he pointed north east through the rain, “up there somewhere. It burned down when I inherited the land and I never bothered to rebuild it. My mother and I used to come and camp here when I was a boy.” He gazed across the fields of overgrown grass, lost in the memory.

  “How did she die?” Cori asked then realised how silly it sounded. “I mean was it -“

  “I know what you mean,” he smiled at her but it faded slowly. He stared up at the door of the hut, still closed in front of them, and his hand tightened briefly on her shoulder. “She died before her time, actually. My father killed her.”

  And she realised then that his arm was around her to comfort himself. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that; disappointed that that was all it was or pleased that he wanted warmth from her. Be his strength, Cori thought, watching his jaw work. She lifted her arm and slid it about his waist so their bodies fit snugly together. He shot her a grateful look.

  “Does it ever stop?” She asked, thinking of her own mother. She placed her hand on her chest to cover the aching hole that was there. “The pain, I mean?”

  He turned towards her and took her into an embrace. In it she could feel his apology for allowing the uprising to happen, for allowing her family to be hurt and her mother killed. “Not really,” he said against her hair, “but it dulls eventually.”

  At that moment the skies opened, and the rain came down in torrents, blowing sideways against the hut. Sunny picked at the vines on the porch railings, oblivious to the soaking he was getting, but Cori pulled Rowan towards the door and out of the wetness. She pushed it open and stood there, waiting for her eyes to adjust in the dim light.

  It was a single room, scarcely furnished with a desk and chair, a fireplace and a bed pushed into the corner. Her eyes lingered on latter.

  “I’ll sleep by the fire,” Rowan said, following the direction of her thoughts.

  “Don’t be silly,” Cori sighed and stepped into the room. Dust puffed up in a cloud beneath her feet, “there’s plenty of room for both of us.”

  Rowan lit a fire from a stack of cobwebby wood beside the hearth and Cori tried to brush the dust from the furniture and the floor.

  “So your father was a farmer?” Cori asked when they sat cross-legged before the fire eating fruit and cheese. She could barely hear herself over the rain pounding on the roof.

  Rowan bit into a plum and shook his head. “No, it was my mother, and she was a good one too. She had hundreds of acres and she used to hire the locals to come work the land with her.”

  “And your father?”

  Rowan was quiet for a moment, looking down at the half-eaten fruit in his hand. “He was a philosopher. I suppose that’s what you would call it.”

  Cori could tell he didn’t want to talk about his father so she let the matter drop. She broke off a bit of cheese and popped it in her mouth. She watched the flames dance for a while. The rain soothed her, and she allowed herself to have no thoughts of importance. After a time, though, a movement caught her eye. Rowan was tapping again, the same song he’d been tapping the whole trip.

  “What is that?” She asked, gesturing at his hand. The tapping faltered and stopped, but he said nothing for a moment. Cori reached out with her mind and touched his. With a sigh, she stood and went to their pack.

  “Here,” she thrust the flask of rum - refilled in Bandar Utara - at him, “drink this.”

  “What?” He said in surprise. “I don’t need that. I told you I wouldn’t do it, Cori.”

  “I don’t think you can help it,” she said matter-of-factly, shaking the flask. The liquid sloshed around inside. “But I can tell it’s coming. Just drink it.”

  He took the flask and opened the cap but didn’t raise it to his lips. “What do you mean you can tell it’s coming?”

  She frowned as she decided how to explain it. “You sound like me,” she said after a while. He stared at her uncomprehendingly and she sighed. “You know, all jagged edges and not in tune. Normally your Hum is smooth, like a breeze in summer or a flowering jasmine vine or...” She trailed off and blushed when she realised he was staring at her with wide eyes and a barely concealed smirk.

  “So that’s what you think of me, is it?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, unable to meet his eye, “that’s just what you sound like.”

  He didn’t say anything but a moment later she heard him take a swig of the rum. She looked up to see him grimace. He handed the flask to her, and she took a sip of her own before screwing the cap back on and putting it aside.

  “You aren’t jagged,” he said after a while. He leaned towards her with a smile that made his eyes bright. Cori’s breath caught in her throat but he didn’t seem to notice. “Do you know what you sound like? Your Hum is fun and youthful. It’s unrestrained from the monotones that the Hum is traditionally taught in. It’s freedom.”

  Cori sat back, feeling a flush of pleasure at his description of her magic.

  “Come on,” he said, standing up and offering her his hand. “Let’s try to get some sleep. I didn’t get any last night.”

  The bed only had a mattress on it and together they flipped it over to the fresher side. Then they climbed onto it with their individual blankets and lay down.

  Despite her sleeplessness the night before, Cori had trouble closing her eyes. Rowan lay on his back beside her and she was acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body. He seemed to take a while to go to sleep as well, but eventually he did, his breath evening out; slow and deep.

  She wanted to put her arm around him, to feel his body against hers, to take his warmth and give him her own. Just do it, she scolded herself, but still she couldn’t move. Rowan was a very physical person, he always had been, but that didn’t mean he meant anything by his small gestures and touches. She didn’t want to break their fragile bond again by overstepping the mark. But if he liked to have contact with her for no clear reason, surely he wouldn’t mind if she did the same? Still she didn’t move.

  “Coward,” she whispered into the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  At some point sleep must have taken her.
One moment she‘d been staring at the ceiling, berating herself, and the next she was in her dreamscape with the green dragon.

  It didn’t notice her at first and Cori started to Hum her dragon song, hoping to confuse it and rid it from her mind before it thought to seek her. It responded to her song, to an extent, but the dragon felt different in this dream.

  Before it had simply been there, an object in her mind. One she could manipulate and it manipulate her. Now she could feel a presence, a reptilian and masculine mind that was at once both different and similar to Daiyu. The dragon circled about her, its movements slowed by her song.

  Human, he said to her, malice dripping from the words. Little human, petty human.

  He’d never spoken to her before. Her song faltered, and she slammed her barriers around her mind. But it was different in the dreamscape; he was already inside her head.

  Freed from the song, he roared and sprang towards her, scales flashing in an unseen light. There was nothing she could do except cover her head with her arms. She felt his claws rake her side, experienced a burst of searing pain, then fell down.

  Cori sat up with a startled cry. Then - as the pain registered - she fell forward over her knees with a groan. Rowan shifted beside her and she felt his hand on her shoulder, pulling her into an upright position. The movement burned, and she cried out, unable to do anything else.

  She caught sight of his face, foggy and confused with sleep. He was looking her up and down but he couldn’t seem to figure out what was wrong. With shaking hands she lifted her shirt to expose her side to the flickering firelight.

  Three long lines - starting at her side, tracing over her hip and out of sight to her back - were blooming red and angry under her skin. They grew and then they split, as if a thin knife had been drawn across them. Blood seeped from them, trickling down her side to be caught by the hem of her pants.