The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  I follow Dryal down the halls and deep into the underbelly of the castle. The dark is oppressive, and it closes in on me. My skin crawls. In the dim light, it’s hard to see more than the shadows of the stairway, but it smells of filth and despair. I’ve never been this low, and I can’t imagine Bea here.

  We reach the bottom, and I steel my resolve. I won’t cry anymore. I will be strong for Bea.

  The jailer eyes Dryal with suspicion. His face opens with disbelief when I step into the circle of light cast by the lone torch. He starts to shake his head. “Dryal, this is—”

  “You would leave her to weather this night alone?” Dryal motions to the cell behind the jailer.

  I’ve already tuned out their conversation. I rush to the bars and cling to the cold metal. “Bea?”

  She lies on the floor, facing away from the bars, curled up into herself on a dirty, woven mat. She lifts her head sharply when she hears my voice.

  “Seirsha?” She pulls herself off the floor and rushes to me. “What are you doing here?” she asks, and then she bursts into tears.

  I clasp her hands, unable to be as strong as I told myself I would be.

  “I’m so sorry.” I gulp a breath. “There is nothing I can do…”

  She nods vigorously. “I know.”

  “Where is Kendal?”

  She wipes her face with her sleeve. “He’s down here somewhere. He didn’t let them take me without a fight.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “They said he will be released after…”

  Her words hang between us, but my mind can’t make sense of them. Bea is going to die tomorrow. She won’t be here with me anymore. How can that be? How can she simply cease to exist?

  Pulling me away from the hysteria I’m hovering near, Bea says, “It was either me or them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The king took me because he couldn’t punish Antone for leaving. I’m glad they are safe.” She straightens her shoulders, looking braver than I’ve ever seen her. “I’m glad it’s me.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t say that, Bea.”

  She smiles. It’s a horrible look of resignation, like she’s already come to terms with her fate. “But I’m guilty, Seirsha. I killed him.”

  It seems so unfair. So wrong. So what if she killed him? He deserved it. How dare he live after what he did to her? He was hateful and evil and…

  And if it were anyone else, I’m not sure I could justify it. Murder is murder.

  But it’s Bea.

  She squeezes my hands. “You were the best sister, Seirsha.”

  Hot, ugly tears run down my cheeks. “Stop.”

  “Tell my family that I desperately love them. Tell Kendal that he was a miracle I never dared hope for.”

  I’m hiccupping now, barely able to breathe.

  “Be happy, Seirsha. Promise me you’ll fight for happiness.” When I don’t answer, she squeezes my hand. “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  We sit together, our hands clasped through the bars. We stay this way for hours, neither of us speaking, until Dryal pulls me away.

  Halfway up the stairway, I stop, the pain of loss paralyzing me. I double over, my arms wrapped around my stomach, and I sob.

  Without a word, Dryal wraps his arm around me, supporting me the rest of the way to my chambers.

  ***

  A knock sounds at my door. I ignore it. I sit in front of the hearth, trying not to dwell on the reason the fire is not lit this morning. At the same time, I cling to every memory of Bea that I have.

  Another knock. And another. Finally, the door opens.

  “Dryal, I don’t want company right now.” I don’t bother turning.

  “I’m not sure I can come back.”

  I whip around when I hear Rigel’s voice. I’m off the floor and in his arms in moments. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken to him, much less touched him.

  “How?”

  “Your guard allowed me to enter.”

  Rigel softly kisses my brow and pulls me closer. The smell of soap clings to his tunic, and I breathe him in, burying my face against his shoulder. We stand like this for what seems like ages.

  “Is it finished?” I finally ask.

  He’s quiet for a time, but then he nods.

  The image of Bea hanging comes unbidden to my mind, and I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the picture. Rigel holds me closer, and I cry. Her life was too short, too unfair. If Father had taken care of Calden when he should have, it would have never come to this.

  Rigel holds me long after my tears have stopped.

  “But her family is safe?” I ask once I finally find my voice. I whisper the words because Dryal is just outside the door. Even after last night, I don’t trust him.

  “They should be in Lauramore by now.”

  They’re gone. All gone. Rigel’s arms tighten around me, reminding me that I’m not completely alone.

  We stay like this for a long while, and I soak up his quiet comfort. A songbird warbles from the nearby windowsill. His silhouette is distorted through the opaque glass, but his song is clear enough.

  How can he sing like that when my life is misery? How can the world go on as if nothing has happened? But that’s what Bea wanted, isn’t it? She wanted me to find happiness. More, she wanted me to fight for it.

  “The ring is beautiful,” I say.

  Still holding me close, he runs his hand through my hair. “I would rather it be on your finger.” He nods, as if coming to a silent conclusion. “Soon.”

  I wish we could stay like this all day, but we both know it’s not safe. Long before I would like, Rigel tells me he must leave.

  “When will I see you again?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll try to send you messages through Pippa.”

  After a soft kiss, he’s gone.

  The room is cold and empty, and I sit at my dressing table feeling lost and alone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A dragon warms herself on the rocky peak near the castle. She glistens in the sunlight, and her scales shine gold in the light. She’s one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, even if she is terrifying. But she’s not my dragon. Where is Adrinel?

  The gold dragon glances my way, sensing my presence. I watch her, my heart in my throat. Caring little for me, she turns her face back to the sun. Even the dragons like summer in Errinton.

  In the village below, people mill about. Guards talk, peasants scurry about their tasks, and children wander in the streets. None notice I am here, watching them. A person would have to crane their necks and look into the bright, afternoon light to see me on my perch.

  Somewhere down there, Dryal may be trying to find me. It gives me satisfaction to have slipped away. Already three weeks have passed since I lost Bea, and it’s the first time I’ve accomplished it.

  I stretch my toes and shift to find a more comfortable position. I haven’t been to this tower in years. I used to come here when I was young, right after Mother died. It’s a dangerous spot. The stairway is narrow, and the arched window is crumbling. No one comes up here. With Errinton’s slow demise, few have cared to fix it.

  I sit on the window ledge, and my feet dangle under my skirts. The dragon stretches her wings, gives me a last glance, and then leaps into the sky. My eyes follow her until she disappears over the horizon. I feel acutely alone now that she’s gone.

  A rider in the distance catches my attention, and my eyes drop from the sky. His pace is fast as if he is being pursued. I search the road behind him but see nothing. He only slows once he reaches the village gates, but his speed is still startlingly urgent. He pulls up sharply in front of the castle entrance, and his poor horse tosses her head and sidesteps to catch her balance.

  The rider calls something, but his words are muffled by the distance. The guards, who were enjoying their lazy afternoon only moments ago, immediately stand at attention. It’s only a matter of minutes before Zander runs fr
om the front gates and meets the man. The steward listens, shakes his head and raises his hands in question. The messenger is adamant about something, and his hands move quickly as he speaks. Zander’s shoulders droop. Looking ashen, he turns to the guard next to him.

  My mouth goes dry as I watch the guard make his way to the bell tower. He winds up the stairs and disappears from view. In only moments, the death toll rings through the air.

  I leap from the window and race down the stairway as soon as my feet meet the stones. I trip, stumble forward, and my hands flail for something to grasp hold of. Just before I fall headfirst to the village streets below, I catch my balance. I set a steadying hand on the sun-warmed stone wall and hold the other over my racing heart.

  Using more caution, I continue my descent. I pick up my pace once I reach the walkway and fly through the first door I come to. Maids and servants are in a tizzy, and they stand in clusters. As I pass, I overhear their conversations. All wonder who the bells mourn.

  I turn a corner, and ahead of me a knight strides down the hall.

  “Argus!” I yell.

  The knight turns, irritated. “Where have you been? I was sent to bring you to the council chambers.”

  “Who’s died?” I rush up to him, out of breath.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” He turns, expecting me to follow him.

  I grab his arm. Though he looks irritated when he glances over his shoulder, he sighs and turns toward me, crossing his arms.

  Letting my hand drop, I say, “Please, tell me.”

  “Everyone,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “The entire regiment.”

  The hall spins, and I press a hand to the wall. “Everyone?”

  “All but seven were slaughtered by the feral dragons.”

  Three-hundred-ninety-three men? The thought is staggering, and I take a step back. If Antone hadn’t escaped to Lauramore with Archer, he would be among that number. If Rigel hadn’t stood up to Father, he would be lost as well.

  I rub my temples. This news is too much.

  With a wordless jerk of his head, Argus motions me down the hall. The sound of arguing reaches us before we even cross the room’s threshold. I enter, hesitant. Nobles surround the messenger from the road, all asking him questions at once. As I step in the door, Lord Fisher asks the man about one of the nobles sent to lead—his son.

  The messenger pulls his hat from his head and crushes it in his hands. “I’m sorry, My Lord.”

  Fisher staggers back, leaving the group.

  My father sits in his usual spot. With his chin resting in his hand, he looks livid. I know it’s not the lost lives he’s lamenting. I can see the mad-calculations in his eyes. He’s plotting—revising his plan, already drawing up his next attack.

  I spot Rigel in the corner speaking with Archer, who thankfully returned from Lauramore without incident several weeks ago. The pair looks grim. Knowing Rigel as I do, I can tell he’s grieving. Unlike Father, it’s not the sculpture he mourns.

  I find my place and wait for the meeting to begin. Many of the men in this room have lost family today. It’s painful to linger amongst them. Surely Father will start soon.

  “We’ll send more men,” Father says after he commands the lords to sit.

  Lord Fisher is the first to argue. “The men you sent were slaughtered!”

  The marquis frowns, his eyes on Lord Fisher, and then he turns to my father. “Your Majesty, with all due respect, Fisher is right. This dragon magic is stronger than we’ve encountered before. If you gather more men, you will be sending them to their deaths.”

  Father’s eyes flash. “I will have this sculpture. I don’t care how many it takes to claim it.”

  “We don’t even know if the figure exists,” one of the eastern lords argues. “More men could be sent, and all for naught.”

  Father is reaching the end of his short patience, and Rovert intercedes. “A different attack may be needed.”

  “We have planned enough,” Father argues. “It is time to act.”

  “Perhaps we can acquire more information on these feral dragons,” Duke Everett says. “Learn weaknesses. Discover how to kill them.”

  Father narrows his eyes at the duke, but then he looks away, thinking. “A wizard,” he says finally, his voice quiet.

  A chill runs through me, but I keep my face impassive.

  “They are forbidden in Errinton.” Rigel’s words are not said with excessive force, but the room stills when he joins the conversation. “And they have been for generations.”

  Father turns his cold gaze on the lord, but Rigel does not back down. He tilts his head, defiant. It’s a minuscule movement, but it speaks volumes. I hold my breath, wondering how Father will react.

  “The time you speak of is archaic, Lord Rigel. As your king, I am more than capable of changing laws as I see fit.”

  The room waits. There’s an eager look in many of the lord’s eyes. They want Rigel to stand up to Father.

  Rigel gives the men their heart’s desire. “Foolish is the man who calls upon dark magic.”

  The room goes silent after he quotes the old proverb. Nervous eyes flicker between the king and Rigel.

  A ghost of a smile crosses Father’s face, but his eyes are deadly. “Foolish is the man who challenges me.”

  Rovert clears his throat, attempting to break the tension. “Of course, Sire, we will gladly follow your instructions. Should you wish to contact a wizard, that is what we will do.”

  Father turns from Rigel, dismissing him, but I see a shadow of discomfort cross his features. Rigel isn’t an inconvenience anymore. He’s scared of him and the power he holds.

  “I don’t care if you have to go to Triblue or the islands beyond.” Father scans the room, daring another to oppose him before he looks back at Rovert. “Find me a wizard.”

  ***

  Somehow Rigel slipped from the council room before me. Irritated, I walk back to my chambers alone. I turn a corner, distracted in my thoughts. From behind me, an arm wraps around my waist, and a hand covers my mouth, muffling my cry of alarm. I’m swept into the shadows of a deserted alcove and pressed against the wall, my attacker in front of me.

  As Rigel removes his hand, his fingers trace my lips. “What have you done with your guard?”

  I kiss him instead of answering, knowing if we’re caught we’re both dead. He runs his hand down the length of my hair and then his fingers wrap through it as he pulls me closer.

  “Father’s losing his patience with you,” I say between desperate kisses.

  “I know.”

  I draw back. “A wizard?” I’m as exasperated as I am terrified. “What is he thinking?”

  Rigel’s eyes flash. “He’s obsessed.”

  Footsteps sound down the hall, and I tense. Rigel pulls me closer to him, hiding us deeper in the shadows. As we wait, the sound of my heartbeat thrums in my ears. Rovert and Zander pass, the two deep in discussion. They never even glance our way.

  I breathe out and look up, expecting Rigel to be as composed as usual. Instead, he looks troubled.

  “He’s inviting his own death,” I say. “And ours as well.”

  “The people are rising up, Seirsha.” He strokes the small of my back. “The news of the massacre is spreading quickly.”

  I nod. I’d already figured as much.

  Though Rigel still holds me, I’ve lost him to his thoughts. Finally, he takes a deep breath. He’s about to ask me something. Whatever it is, he doesn’t like it. I wait, knowing he won’t begin before he’s ready.

  “This wizard won’t work for free, and it’s rarely gold they want,” he finally says. “We need to know what your Father is willing to trade for his services.”

  I bite my lip and think of how I might go about this. “Father doesn’t trust me.”

  “I know.”

  His hand strays from my hair, runs down my arm, and brushes back up again. The motion is meant to be soothing, which makes me think I won’t like his ne
xt words.

  “In your father’s chambers, in the entry alcove, there’s a small door hidden behind a tapestry,” Rigel finally continues. “We must slip you through that door before the wizard arrives. From there, you will be able to listen to your Father’s plans.”

  “How do you know of this room?”

  He cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow.

  “Right,” I say.

  “I would do it myself, but the king has requested the lords gather to greet the wizard when he arrives.”

  I wrap my arms around Rigel’s neck, and I play with the short hair at his nape. “I’ll do it.”

  He gives me a stern look. “You mustn’t be caught. Do you understand?”

  “What about the guards?”

  His eyes harden. “I’ll take care of them.”

  ***

  Dryal waits for me by my chamber doors, and he crosses his arms when I draw near. “I covered for you when you disappeared. You better not have been seen with Rigel.”

  I feel a little guilty for losing him but not quite enough to feel sorry.

  He watches me for a moment longer, his expression unnerving.

  “I was supposed to be in the regiment,” he says. “Instead, they sent me here to be a nursemaid to you.”

  Startled, I raise an eyebrow. I haven’t heard him string so many words together in the whole time he’s been guarding me.

  He clears his throat and opens the door to my chambers. “So thank you, I suppose.”

  I step past him and then look back. “Do you think it’s right to provoke the dragons as we have?”

  His head twitches to the hall, as if he’s checking to be sure we won’t be overheard. “I do not, Your Highness.”

  Crossing my arms, I say, “There will come a time when you must choose where your loyalty rests.”

  “I am loyal to the true king.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “And that would be?”

  He fidgets, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I am loyal to Lord Rigel.”

  I nod and close the door between us.

  ***

  I bite my nail and look out the window. From my chambers, I can’t see the mob of villagers that have gathered to listen to Father’s speech, but I can hear their angry cries.