The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  Bea’s usual smile is gone. Her eyes meet mine, but then they drop back to her work. The corner of her mouth crinkles in thought. “I’ll have to tell him.”

  The words hang between us.

  “I don’t know if I can.” She blinks quickly. “How can I…”

  I catch her wrist and take her hand. “He’s a physician, Bea. If anyone will understand what you’ve been through, I’m sure it’s Kendal.”

  She shakes her head before she sets the brush down and turns her back to me. “I’m so ashamed.”

  Quickly, I rise and go to my friend, pulling her into an embrace. Her shoulders shake as she cries, but I don’t try to stop her.

  “He won’t want me, Seirsha.” Bea grabs my hands, her eyes frightened and rimmed with red. “When he finds out, he won’t want me.”

  The truth is, I don’t know what Kendal will think. I do know that he’s proven himself to be a good man. He sold virtually everything he owned to help people. I can’t imagine he’ll walk away from Bea now.

  “It will be all right,” I assure her. “And if he turns away from you, he doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

  My friend pulls back and dries her tears with the edge of her apron. “I’m not the person you think I am, Seirsha.”

  “Of course you are. You’re Bea. You’re my dearest friend, and I know everything there is to know about you.”

  She gives me a cryptic look before she once again picks up my brush. “Not everything.”

  ***

  There hasn’t been a council meeting since Rigel left, and I’m not looking forward to the one today. Still, any time spent in Rigel’s company is better than time spent apart—even if we must keep our distance from one another.

  I’ve been standing here for a little over an hour. Rigel is now informing Father and the other nobles about the search.

  Father is not pleased.

  “I do not see a way in—not without slaying the dragons,” Rigel says.

  Father drums his fingers on the table, agitated. “Perhaps we can go around them?”

  Rigel shakes his head. “It’s an entire colony. It seems as if they are there to protect the fortress.”

  They’re shielding the world from the abomination that has been placed there, most likely.

  Father sits back and flicks his hand in the air. “It’s no use. We’ll have to rid ourselves of them.”

  “Rid ourselves of them?” Duke Everett eyes Father with distrust. “Your Majesty, surely you don’t mean—”

  “I do mean. We will slay them.”

  Astonished, the marquis leans forward. “You’re willing to break the treaty? For something we don’t even know for sure exists?”

  Every one of the men is ready to defy Father, but he glares back at them, unyielding. “It’s the only way to save Errinton. We need the power.”

  Several moments pass before Rigel finally says, “It’s not the only way. For over a year now I have been telling you of the ore—”

  Father slams his fist on the table. “We will not discuss this again.”

  But this time, instead of staying quiet, Rigel’s eyes go cold. He continues, “As you have seen, I have successfully created an alloy that is far stronger than dragon steel—”

  “We are finished with this conversation!”

  But the damage is done.

  Ignoring Father’s anger, Lord Fisher turns to Rigel. “What is this alloy made from?”

  Several men mutter and lean forward, eager to hear as well.

  “It’s a mineral found in the mountains. It has no name that I am aware of. I’ve been calling it drachite.”

  The responses come quickly and all at once.

  “And it’s stronger than dragon steel? Is it brittle?”

  “Where are you mining?”

  “Have you created the armor? Swords?”

  Father stands, his face turning red. “Enough!”

  All eyes turn to him, startled.

  “Your Majesty,” Duke Everett says. “If Rigel speaks the truth, this is exactly what Errinton needs.”

  That is the wrong thing to say.

  Father is now livid, and his hand trembles against the table. “We will assemble an army to take out the colony.”

  The marquis shakes his head. “Your Majesty, if you send an army, it will leave us open to an attack from any of the lower kingdoms. Relations between Glendon are strained at best.”

  Father waves his hand. “I don’t care who we gather. Peasants are disposable—send them.”

  Lord Fisher clears his throat. “But, Sire…the treaty.”

  Father slowly sits. “The treaty is between us and the dragons in the Kingdoms of Elden. There was no agreement made beyond the borders.”

  I very much doubt the dragons will agree with Father’s logic. What is he thinking? Once we break the treaty, we will be at war again.

  “This is drastic, Your Majesty.” Lord Everett frowns. “You must admit Rigel’s solution has merit.”

  Father’s gaze slowly finds Rigel’s. “You will lead the army to the fortress.”

  Rigel crosses his arms, the first act of full out defiance I have ever seen him display toward my father. “Sire, I respectfully request you find someone else.”

  Father’s face turns a strange color of purple. “When I tell—”

  “Of course Rigel is the best choice,” Archer interrupts, surprising Father and the rest of us. “The people are already in awe of him—I have heard them speak of him myself. He’s found the fortress. He will surely slay the dragons, retrieve the statue, and come back victorious.” He turns to Rigel, serious. “The tales of you single-handedly saving Errinton will go down in history.”

  Father chokes, furious. He knows he’s being manipulated, but in the end, his pride wins over his desire to be rid of Rigel. “If you do not feel you are equal to the task, Lord Rigel, I will find someone who is.”

  Rigel tilts his head, his face passive. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Father’s eye twitches. He turns from Rigel, too disgusted to look at him. “How many dragons are in the colony?”

  “Twenty, maybe thirty,” Rigel answers. “But they are massive. I’ve never seen larger, and they’re clustered together.”

  Father stares across the room, his jaw working as he mulls it over. “Four hundred men should be enough.”

  “For twenty dragons?” Lord Fisher asks. “Even for large ones, that seems a bit excessive.”

  Father turns to the man. “True, but the men we will send are untrained for the most part. We must expect significant casualties.”

  I grow cold—not only from his words, but from the uncaring way he delivers them. Rigel no longer hides his disgust; it’s clearly written on his face.

  Father rubs his chin, thinking. “Discuss it amongst yourselves. I expect an even number from the five regions. Send men who are disposable.”

  “No men are disposable, Your Majesty.” Rigel’s words are sharp, and the tension in the room thickens.

  Father leans forward, his icy gaze on the young lord. “On the contrary, Lord Rigel, there are disposable men. Some are more so than others.”

  No one misses his meaning. Several of the nobles in the room shift in their seats. Rigel stares back at the king, undaunted.

  “You are all dismissed.” Father’s eyes are still trained on Rigel. “Except you, Seirsha. You will stay for a moment.”

  Doubt flashes across Rigel’s face, but he hides it quickly. He and Archer rise from their seats, though they are both hesitant to leave me alone with the king.

  Father steeples his hands. “What is the name of your maid, Seirsha?”

  I grit my teeth and take a calming breath. He, of course, already knows the answer. “Bea.”

  “She has a brother, doesn’t she? A strapping young man, if I remember correctly.” He taps his lips as if he’s trying to recall Antone. “His wife and child were ill a few weeks ago, weren’t they?”

  The physician must have spoken t
o him.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Are they better?”

  Rigel hovers near the door, and his presence gives me courage. “They are.”

  Father smiles wide. “I am happy to hear that. Despite the honor I plan to bestow on him, it would be hard for him to leave them if they were ill, wouldn’t it?”

  “What honor?” My voice stays even, but I am trembling on the inside.

  “Rigel.” Father turns toward the door. “Go tell Antone Woodley he’s been chosen to join the regiment marching up north.” He smiles. “Make sure he knows it’s a great honor. He’s the very first man to be chosen, hand-picked by the king himself.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marielle sobs quietly in the corner. Antone kneels before her, trying to soothe away her tears. Rella takes Kara, who has begun to cry, and Kendal comforts Bea, who has also started crying. Not knowing what to do, I go to Rella and wrap my arms around her and the baby.

  Rigel leans against the door, his head lowered, giving the family time to grieve. He blames himself. It’s not his fault, but the only reason Father chose Antone was to hurt me—which in turn punished Rigel for speaking out. It won't surprise me if Father has already given quiet orders to make sure Antone does not return.

  “When do we leave?” Antone asks. His words cause Marielle to gasp, which renews the tears that were just ebbing.

  “Two weeks,” Rigel says. “Maybe three.”

  Antone nods, acknowledging his fate with grim resolve.

  I hate this. The argument between Rigel and Father should not affect this family. People are not pawns for Father to move at will.

  Rella pulls away, speaking of putting Kara to bed.

  Rigel sets a hand on my shoulder. “We should go.”

  I lean against him. A dark, heartless part of me is glad that it’s Antone and not Rigel. The thought makes me ill. I’m no better than Father. I watch as Antone murmurs to Marielle and wipes tears from her face. I swipe at a tear on my own cheek and look away.

  Rigel closes the door softly behind us. The evening summer air is cool, and I wish I had thought to bring a cloak.

  Rigel sets his arm on my shoulders, drawing me close. “Are you cold?”

  “A little,” I admit.

  We stay away from the tavern, but I still hear the drunken ruckus.

  “Are the other kingdoms like this?” I wave toward the noise.

  Rigel pauses and looks over my head. “There are taverns in Vernow that rival this one, as do a few of the seedier places in Triblue where the sailors frequent.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  We twist and turn as we make our way toward the castle.

  “You would like Lauramore,” he says.

  A dark arch, the entrance to an abandoned garden, stands near the entrance. I pull him into it. Once we’re hidden in the shadows, I rest my head against his shoulder. He strokes my hair.

  “Tell me about Lauramore,” I say.

  “The queen has large gardens outside the great hall,” he begins. “A waterfall flows right next to the palace, and it always smells like rain and flowers. The palace is lovely—built for beauty rather than strength.”

  I close my eyes, trying to imagine it. “What about the other kingdoms?”

  He rests his cheek on my head. “Triblue is sunny year-round. There are constantly ships on the horizon. People from every kingdom live there—and not just from Elden, but those from across the sea as well. Glendon’s people are friendly and giving—unless you’re Errintonian, of course.”

  “Of course,” I murmur.

  “Primewood is small and covered with evergreen forests. You would like their prince—or you would hate him. It seems to go either way.”

  I laugh, wondering what that means.

  “Ptarma is beautiful beyond description.”

  I can’t keep the longing from my voice when I say, “You’ve been to Ptarma?”

  “I’ll take you someday.”

  I look up, meeting his eyes in the moonlight. “Will we have a someday?”

  He lets out a slow breath, holding me closer. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  “I’m proud of you for standing up to him.”

  Rigel shakes his head. “It wasn’t enough. Just think of all the widows that are going to be made in the next month, of all the children who will lose their fathers. And for what?”

  I know he’s remembering his own father’s death. I understand. I still miss my mother. Dragons killed them both.

  While leaning against him, I allow myself to remember the day Adrinel saved me. It was early summer, like it is now, and almost warm. The fighting had moved east. We hadn’t seen any sign of the dragons in over a week.

  I was young and tired of the castle, and I begged Mother to take me out. Finally, she relented. She packed a picnic and took me out into the meadow just beyond the castle gates. We sat in the sunshine, and she taught me to whistle to the birds. The beasts attacked without warning.

  We weren’t armed; we weren’t a threat. Showing us no more mercy than our people had shown them, the dragons killed her as I screamed.

  But when they came for me, Adrinel swept from the sky. She blocked me, roaring that I was only a child. Outnumbered three to one, she fought them. And she won.

  Later she healed my wounds, but there was nothing she could do for my mother. Though I was terrified of the dragon, she swept me against her and whispered words of comfort while I mourned the loss of the one parent who loved me.

  Rigel doesn’t ask why I’m crying. He only holds me close, shielding me from the night. I wrap my arms around him and wish for the millionth time I were somewhere else.

  ***

  Father has only one guard outside his door today. That’s good.

  “Is His Majesty expecting you?” the guard asks, his brow furrowing.

  “No.”

  He gives me a look, obviously thinking I’m mad. No one, including the princess, comes to the king’s chambers unbidden. The man shrugs, not caring what happens to me, and raps on the door. Several moments later, Zander answers.

  The steward’s eyes widen in surprise when he sees me. “Seirsha? What do you need?”

  “I am here to see Father.”

  He shakes his head. “Your Father will not—”

  “It’s fine,” Father calls. “Let her in.”

  His voice sounds off, weary. I give Zander a questioning look, but he only motions me inside. The draperies are drawn, and the room is dark. I expect to find Father at his desk where he normally sits, but instead, he’s stretched on the padded bench by the hearth. There’s no fire going today, and the room feels oddly cold for summer.

  “Father?”

  He looks over, a wry smile on his lips. “I suppose you were going to find out eventually.”

  My blood chills. “Find out what?”

  “I’m dying, Seirsha.”

  “He’s not dying,” Zander says sharply, his voice testy. “He had a moment.”

  Father snorts a laugh. “We’re all dying Zander, but some of us have longer than others.”

  Suddenly, every good memory of my father fills my mind. Granted, there aren’t many, but the ones I have are dear to me. There were times he was kind. There were times I am sure he loved me. Perhaps he is a miserable father, but he’s the only one I have.

  “A moment? What does that mean?”

  “It’s my heart.”

  My hand seeks out my pendant. In its absence, I grasp my braid and run it through my fingers. I take a deep breath.

  Father lays his head back. “And I thought you wouldn’t care.”

  My stomach churns. How could he say that? It was never I who withheld affection.

  He closes his eyes. “You’re a traitor as much as Rigel—you’re a traitor because of Rigel.”

  I shake my head.

  “You’re in love with the usurper lord.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off.

  “Save yo
ur words,” he says, “I’ve watched the two of you for years. I know my own daughter’s heart.”

  “He doesn’t want the crown, Father.” Seeing the pain in his face, I take several steps forward and kneel by his side. “He’s loyal. I swear it.”

  Father turns his head toward me. “He defies me now in front of the nobles. That is not loyalty.”

  “Please. No one wants this war.”

  His icy gaze narrows. “You were supposed to keep him happy. I gave him to you—your heart’s one desire—and all I asked in return was for you to keep him quiet.”

  I pull my hand away. “I can’t control his convictions.”

  “You didn’t want to.”

  “This sculpture is dangerous. You know that.”

  Father studies me. “You came so close to perfect, Seirsha. You’re strong, controlled, distant. But your kindness makes you weak. It is a flaw, a defect. You don’t think I wanted you for my heir instead of that fool Calden? I have trained you for years. Why do you think I made you stand through every one of those blasted council meetings? Why I forced rules on you I never saddled Calden with?” He shakes his head, disgusted. “Kept you alive when you were destined to die.”

  I start at his words, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  “But from the time you were young,” he continues, “you have been besotted with Rigel. If I name you as heir, the moment I die, you will marry that man.”

  My fingers clench into a fist. “You ignored me—you degraded me. All these years you have treated me like dirt under your feet, withholding your love, and now you say it was to help me grow? Well, let me tell you something, Father, I don’t want to be molded into you.”

  Zander is about to intervene, but Father holds his hand up. “What do you want me to say, Seirsha? That I love you? Of course I do. You’re my daughter—my flesh and blood. But you defy me constantly. At first your spirit was amusing, but now it’s an irritation.”

  I turn on my heel, ready to leave though I have not been dismissed.

  “Why did you come?”

  I pause, remembering my purpose. Already knowing his answer, I say, “I came to beg you to leave Antone be.”

  With my back to him, I don’t see his face, but he lets out a disgusted snort. “Weak.”