“No—these men rescued me,” I say quickly. “It wasn’t them.” She shifts her attention back to me, and I lower my gaze. “It was Father.”
Adrinel growls, and it’s a sound deep in her throat that chills the air and causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.
“You reek of infection,” the dragon says. “Show me the wound.”
Rigel tenses, but he stays back. I look at him, trying to reassure him with my eyes, and then I pull the tattered hem above my ankle.
Adrinel hisses and then tilts her head back, preparing her flame.
“No!” Rigel lunges forward, sword drawn.
An eager-to-be-useful knight shoots his bow. The arrow clatters off Adrinel’s side, just above her wing. It’s a harmless hit, but she roars with furious indignation.
I lunge in front of Rigel. “Stop!”
There is silence.
My heart beats madly as I stand between dragon and slayer. Silently, I plead with Rigel to stand down. He ignores me, his cold, hard gaze focused on Adrinel.
“Rigel, this dragon is dear to me.” It surprises me my voice doesn’t waver. “Adrinel,” I continue, still watching Rigel. “I love this man.”
Rigel’s gaze softens, and he finally looks at me. He sheathes his sword and steps back.
Behind me, Adrinel slowly lowers her wings, her muscles easing. “Tell your men to leave us.”
Rigel angles his head in challenge. “I will not.”
Adrinel tenses again and turns her attention to the knight who shot her. “I will not travel with men who attack me.”
“You will not travel with us at all,” Rigel counters.
Adrinel steps forward and shoves me aside. “You have already shown you are incapable of protecting Seirsha. I will not leave her in your care.”
I touch her wing. “Adrinel—”
“She’s right.” Rigel crosses his arms, and the stubborn set of his jaw softens as he looks back at me. “I didn’t protect you.”
Ready to argue, I shake my head, but he doesn’t give me the chance.
“You may go with your dragon if you wish,” he says, his voice quiet.
I glance at Adrinel. Now that they’ve attacked her, she will not travel with the knights, and I am not ready to part with her yet. I look back at Rigel. “Come with us.”
The dragon begins to protest, but I cut her off with a sharp look. She stares at me, her tail flicking, but finally nods in consent. The men murmur at our silent conversation. Even Rigel looks startled at the friendship the dragon and I have cultivated.
“Come with us,” I say again, begging him.
“Ride ahead,” Rigel finally commands his men. “I will accompany Seirsha and her beast.”
Beside me, Adrinel snorts at the insinuation that she is my pet.
The men are reluctant to leave. Malcolm and Dryal look the most hesitant, but even they eventually do as they’re told.
When a cloud of dust is all that remains of our party, Rigel turns to Adrinel, his emotions masked behind storm-gray eyes. “We’re at your mercy, dragon. Where will you lead us?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I don’t like this, Seirsha.” Rigel eyes the dragon with distrust.
I extend my leg so Adrinel may have an easier angle to work from and say, “It’s fine.”
Rigel’s expression is hard. I wonder if he knows his hand is on his sword. I think it’s his natural reaction to anything that makes him uneasy.
“It’s not pleasant, though,” I add. “You might not want to watch.”
He scoffs, and I bite back a smile.
“Are you ready?” Adrinel asks, her voice bored. “Or would you care to hash it out a bit more?”
I close my eyes and brace myself. “I’m ready.”
The fire’s sting is sharper than usual—sharper than I expect—and I fight the urge to cry out. It’s so cold, I feel as if my leg is surely frozen. I grit my teeth, working to stay conscious. Despite the overwhelming sensations, I hear Rigel gasp. Few humans have ever witnessed a dragon’s healing flame.
I stay still several moments after it’s over, and keep my eyes closed as I work to compose myself. When I do finally look at the dragon, I demand, “What was that?”
She cocks her head, and, enunciating very carefully as if she thinks I’ve gone daft, she says, “I healed you.”
“It hurt!”
“Well, of course it hurt.” She gives me the reptilian equivalent of an eye roll. “It was infected.”
I bite my lip, refusing to spar with her. “Thank you,” I finally say.
When I look at Rigel, I almost laugh. He’s staring at my ankle in wonder.
Sensing my gaze, he meets my eyes and says, “It’s completely healed.”
I nod, and he shakes his head as if he can’t grasp it.
“Does it still hurt?” he asks.
“It tingles as if it’s been asleep, but there’s no pain.” I roll my ankle. Already, the prickly sensation is ebbing.
“Can all dragons do that?” he demands of Adrinel.
“No,” she answers, her voice even. “I am the only one.”
Rigel looks at the dragon with something akin to awe, and I give Adrinel a chastising look before I say, “They all can.”
Rigel gives her a knowing half-smile, and she returns it, her scaly mouth turned up. On her, the look is disturbing.
“Are there limitations?” he asks.
“The wound must be external,” Adrinel answers.
He waits for a moment, waiting to see if I will correct her, and then he nods.
Satisfied I am fully healed, Adrinel stretches her wings. “We will stay here for the night. I will hunt, and when I return, I will start your fire. Do not wander away. I do not wish to track you down.”
Without waiting for an answer, she leaps into the air.
A smile plays at Rigel’s lips. “Apparently we humans are not capable of starting our own fires.”
***
I would give the entire kingdom for a long, hot bath, a clean gown, and a decent meal. Though Adrinel healed my ankle, there’s little she can do for my saddle-weary muscles. Rigel rides next to me, his body immune to the taxing ride. Adrinel flies overhead, disappearing into the clouds and appearing again at random.
I stand in my saddle and groan out loud.
Rigel glances over, his eyes alight with humor. “Sore?”
“No.”
He grins. “I would have guessed otherwise.”
His mood has improved since yesterday, and his expression isn’t so dark. Who would have thought that time with a dragon would do him good?
“Let’s rest for a moment,” Rigel says. “Your dragon won’t mind.”
In one smooth, unexpected movement, Rigel throws his leg over his horse, drops to the ground, and catches my mare by her bridle.
“She’ll likely mind,” I say as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me down.
“Well, perhaps I don’t care.”
I push against his chest, playing aloof even though I’m elated he’s in good spirits. His lips quirk in a half-smile, and he pulls me closer.
Then I stop pretending to struggle. My fingers run over his shoulder, and I whisper, “Can we move past what happened?”
“I’ll always regret it,” he says. “I’ll always blame myself. But I don’t have to dwell on it.”
I nod, appreciating that it’s a truthful answer. His lips brush against mine, and I angle toward him slightly. It’s all the invitation he needs.
His kiss is not quite gentle. Breathless, I pull him closer, and my hands skim his sun-warmed mail.
“We’ll never reach our destination if you keep this up.”
I pull away, astonished we didn’t hear Adrinel land behind us.
Rigel nudges me back toward him. “Go away, dragon.”
“I’m not a pet you can send away at will.” She narrows her jeweled eyes, and a wisp of smoke curls from one of her nostrils.
&n
bsp; “That’s a shame,” Rigel whispers.
I bite back a smile.
Adrinel’s tail twitches in irritation. “If you can extract yourselves from each other’s arms, we should arrive by late evening.”
With a wry smile, Rigel releases me. We mount our horses, and Adrinel leaps into the air.
I watch her until she disappears again. Once she’s gone, I ask, “Why did the dragons join you for my rescue?”
Rigel snorts. “It’s more like we joined them, but where our mission was to rescue you, theirs’ was to retaliate against your father.”
I give him a questioning look.
“He attacked the feral dragons while you were in the tower.”
“Was he successful?” I whisper.
Rigel stares at the horizon. “The dragons fell to the dark magic—every one of them.”
I close my eyes. What has Father done?
“But he was disappointed in his prize.”
“What do you mean?” I look at Rigel sharply. “The sculpture wasn’t there?”
Rigel laughs, a victorious smile on his face. “It was there—but our spies have told us it’s lifeless. Whatever magic it once held has seeped back into the depths where it belongs.”
I tilt my head toward the sun, relishing its heat. I let the news sink in, and a weight is lifted from my shoulders.
But one small darkness remains.
Looking back at Rigel, I say, “He gave up ten years of his life with the hope that the figure would save him.”
Rigel studies me, concerned.
I smile, reassuring him I’m all right. “It’s just sad, that’s all.”
He nods and reaches between our horses, taking my hand. “It is. And we must be careful where we place our hope.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I sink under the bubbles and let the tepid water cover my face. Though I’ve scrubbed, soaked, and scrubbed some more, I can still feel grime on me. I don’t think I’ll ever be free of it.
Golden light shines through the western window. We didn’t arrive in Archer’s lands until the wee hours of the morning. Pippa immediately ushered me up to my temporary chambers. I’ve slept most of the day, but still, all I want is to crawl from this tub and sleep for days more.
“Seirsha? Are you well?” Pippa calls from the other side of the screen. I mumble something unintelligible, and she peeks around the corner. “You’ve been in there for ages. Surely the water is frigid by now.”
The water is nearly cold, but the thought of climbing out of the tub sounds dreadful.
“I’ll be out in a moment,” I say.
She disappears around the corner. “I’ll call the maids.”
Apparently, I’m such a mess she thinks I’ll need more than one. I pull a sopping mass of knotted hair over my shoulder. I’m afraid she’s right.
Knowing I can’t avoid it any longer, I stand and reach for the cloth hanging near the tub. I bring it to my face as I wrap it around myself. It’s soft against my skin, and I believe I may fall asleep on my feet.
The outer chamber opens, and two female voices join Pippa’s. I can’t stand here forever. A groan escapes me as I lean over to dry my legs. I ache everywhere. I don’t know whether it’s from the days in the tower or from the ride. Probably both.
I’m met by two sets of pretty, perky, eager-to-please eyes. The maids curtsy almost in unison, and I have a strong urge to send them out the door and back to wherever they came from. The only thing that keeps me from ignoring them and going to bed is their awkward, too-rigid posture and the way their fingers fidget at their sides.
“You’re not ladies’ maids, are you?” I ask.
Their faces fall, and the taller of the two—a girl of about fifteen with light brown hair and dark eyes—says, “No, Your Highness, but we have tended our mother’s and older sisters’ hair for years.”
They’re sisters then. The youngest wrings her hands, fearing dismissal.
“All right,” I say. “Find me something to wear.”
They instantly turn to the wardrobe, but when they open it, they find it empty. The sisters look at Pippa for guidance.
“I thought the gown was brought in.” She sounds slightly agitated. “I’ll have to go fetch it.”
With water dripping to the floor, still only wrapped in this cloth, I give her an exasperated look.
Her irritation turns to amusement, and she laughs, enjoying my discomfort. “I’ll hurry back.”
The minutes spent waiting for Pippa to return are painful. Both girls, whose names I’ve learned are Linsley and Moira, stare at the floor. I shiver, and a persistent river of water streams from my matted hair and runs down my back.
The door finally swings open, and I look over, relieved. It took her long enough.
“Sorry,” Pippa says, not sounding sorry at all. “Rigel wanted to know how you are.”
“I’m lovely.”
She laughs and hands the garment to the girls. “Yes, I told him you were as snarly as a mountain cat. He didn’t seem surprised.”
I look away, ashamed.
“I’m sorry.” I swallow. “You’ve all done so much. I just…” I rub my temples.
Pippa waves away my apology. “You need a meal and a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, you will have to settle for the meal for now.”
“Why?”
I raise my arms as the maids slip the skirts over my head. The material settles against my skin like a caress. The full gown falls just to the floor in layer after layer of fur-trimmed white silk. The bodice molds to my skin, fitting snug once the laces are tied.
“Rigel has called a council,” Pippa says.
I eye the fabric. “Tell him I want no part of it.” I run my finger along the fur. “Where exactly did you find this?”
Pippa glances over then looks away. “It must have belonged to Archer’s mother. It was hanging in one of the rooms.”
There isn’t a hint of moth damage. I sniff my arm. The smell of the herbs that repel the nuisances is oddly absent as well.
Pippa wanders to the window, her gaze on the setting sun. “Her hair,” she directs the maids.
I sit while they work out the snarls. Though they are gentler than Bea ever was, it takes the pair forever. The thought brings on a sharp pang of sadness, and I fight it back.
“Braid it back but keep it soft,” Pippa instructs.
Moira twists a few strands and then looks at the princess.
Pippa shakes her head. “Something looser but contained.” Her hands move as she speaks, trying to demonstrate her meaning. “Maybe weave some pearls into it? Oh, I don’t know,” she finally says, exasperated.
“Pippa, what’s going on?”
“Council meeting,” she immediately answers, not bothering to meet my gaze. “Like I said.”
I frown at her.
“Be quick about it.” She turns to Moira. “It’s almost dusk.”
Once I pass Pippa’s odd evaluation, she drags me out of my chambers and down a hall.
“It’s just through there,” she says as she shoos me to a door. “I’ll be in momentarily.”
I turn back, nervous to go in alone. “Where are you going?”
The princess waves her hand even as she trots quickly down the hall. “I forgot something.”
While listening to her fading footsteps, I stare at the door. Fortifying myself with a deep breath, I push the door open. That breath catches in my lungs.
The hall is glass, and the walls reflect the flicker of what must be hundreds of candles. A great many of those candles hang in tiny lanterns suspended from an old, gnarled tree growing in the very center of the room. Its branches extend high to the glassed roof. Herbs and flowers of all types grow in a maze of waist-high garden beds. Amid the planters are at least a dozen circular tables, all set with crisp white linens and decked with mounds of cut flowers and even more candles.
There’s not a soul in sight. I take a hesitant step inside and crane my neck to stare at th
e gold canopy of leaves above me. A laugh builds in my throat. It’s an Eldentimber tree—I’ve walked into a fairy garden of Pippa’s making. This could only be her greenhouse.
“Do you like it?”
I turn around to face Rigel. A laugh of surprise bubbles past my lips, but it catches when my eyes sweep over him. He wears a tunic of Errinton’s traditional black and orange with his family’s crest stitched in silver across the front. His sword is belted at his side, and it shines in the candlelight as if it has just been polished.
Butterflies in my stomach take flight as I glance at my gown.
Rigel sets his hands on my face, his eyes searching mine. My heart beats wildly, and I truly believe at this moment I could die happy.
“I take it there isn’t going to be a council meeting?” I whisper.
His smile is fast and bright, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He leans in close, his lips a breath away from my ear. “I was hoping you would marry me tonight.”
I blink and nod, unable to find my voice. I wrap my arms around his neck and laugh as he holds me tight and lifts me off my feet.
Suddenly, a dozen happy voices call out from behind us. People—most of whom I don’t know—swarm into the room, laughing and cheering. Finally, I spot Pippa and Archer. They break through the crowd, and Pippa grabs my arm and pulls me toward the entrance. She shoos people out of our way. Once I’ve been ushered out, she closes the doors behind us. Several young girls loiter about, each holding a bouquet of herbs and flowers.
“Did you plan this?” I ask Pippa.
She nods, her eyes bright. “It’s too bad my brother didn’t allow his wife to travel here with him. She’s much better at this sort of thing.”
My throat constricts with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”
“Are you ready?”
I take a deep breath, and my heart is so full I think it might burst. I’m going to marry Rigel—and not alone and in secret, practically hiding from the world—but here with friends and people who love us.
Pippa fixes my gown, shoves a bouquet in my hands, and then gives the doors a sound rap. The doors open, revealing the room full-to-bursting with guests. They stand at the tables, and all are turned toward me. Rigel waits with a bishop just in front of the Eldentimber tree. Archer stands at his side.
The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 69