After a year of wise and fruitful reign, all the kingdom hoped that Wynde would wed, and no neighboring princesses there were, I think, who would have refused his hand, despite his scars, for he was kind and courteous, and, really, still quite beautiful, at least to my eyes. But women know things about what moves the heart to love that men do not, and my poor brother, thinking himself restricted from the paths of love by his ravaged face, never understood what he could have had.
Women know, too, what goes on backstairs, and the rumor was that though Wynde tried many times, he could not get a woman with child. The dragon’s breath, it was said, had unmanned him.
These rumors—I did hear them, of course, though Glenna tried to keep them from me—were like daggers in my heart.
Wifeless, childless, Wynde turned his attention on me. Oh, not in any wrongful way! He simply decided that if he was not to wed, I must do so in his place, in order that the kingdom might have a true heir. But all men knew my history, and none there were who dared to call me bride, for fear that I might again become what I once was. None would state this outright, of course, for fear of Wynde’s wrath. Even so, I understood well enough the reason I had no suitors.
In his frustration, Wynde, my brother and rescuer, slowly became my tormentor. I don’t think he ever really understood what he was doing, or at least not why. But he began to criticize me daily, telling me the ways in which I should change so I might better attract a husband.
I, who had run the household from the time our real mother died! I, who had kept the keys of the castle for our father until the arrival of our stepmother! I, who had a fire in me that no man could understand—a fire, I feared, that none could withstand, come the wedding night.
IT started slowly, this desire of mine. At first it came only at night, when I would lie abed but in my dreams be soaring once again above the countryside, my wings spread wide and all of heaven, fiery with its myriad of stars, stretching endlessly black above me. In these dreams, I flew until the moon was in my reach, then swooped to devour once again the sheep and the kine, feeling the crunch of their bones and the hot spurt of their blood as it poured down my gullet. When I woke, I would find myself tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, hardly knowing whether it had been dream or reality.
This went on for some months, always worse at my own time of month. I grew more restless and irritable by the day, according to Glenna.
Though Wynde and I fought over many matters, the situation came to a head the morning he sat down to breakfast, and said, “I have found a husband for you, at last, May Margret. You will marry Lord Dunbar come spring.”
“Brother,” I said, fighting down the heat I felt rising inside, “I have no need of husband, and you no right to offer my hand.”
“As your king and kinsman, I do indeed have a right to bestow you where I will,” he replied, his voice cold.
“I deny this ‘right’ of yours!”
Wynde’s voice began to shake. “The kingdom has need of an heir, May Margret. As it will not come from me, it must be you who provides the next in line.”
I could hear in his words, and his tone, the guilt and shame he felt that he was not able to produce an heir himself. It silenced me for a moment, and my heart ached for him. At least, it did until he made his next argument: “Do you forget, dear sister, who it was who freed you from your dragon prison?”
My rage on hearing this was such that I could scarcely breathe. I could not believe he would use that as a weapon against me! A wave of hot anger erupting in my heart, I leapt to my feet and flung the chalice I had been clutching at his head.
What happened after that, I do not remember, for I lost consciousness. I do not think it was any womanly weakness that made me faint, but rather the heat in my blood, which came on too fast, too strong.
Once you have been a dragon, it is hard, I discovered, to be a mere maiden once again.
THE next weeks were difficult, as Wynde and I fought over and over again on the matter of the betrothal. I reminded him of how we had hated Dunbar when we were children and he had visited in company with his father. We had both thought him stupid, nasty, and spoiled.
It made no difference to Wynde. As the days went on, I raged and cajoled, begged, bartered, and battered at him. One thing only I did not, could not, would not do, and that was weep to get my way.
Despite my entreaties, my brother remained as hard and unmoving as the Spindlestone itself.
During that month, I was trying, desperately, to keep the dragondesire at bay. But each time I grew angry—and I was angry often, with every flare of temper seeming greater than the last—the desire would rise again, stronger and deeper than before. Finally, I did the only thing I could think to do: I went to visit Nell, the old wisewoman who had told the countryfolk how to soothe my hunger with the daily offerings of milk.
I waited until nightfall and wrapped myself in a peasant’s cloak that I had asked Glenna to bring me. I dearly wanted to have her join me on the trip, but the question I needed to ask was not one I could share with her, or with anyone save Old Nell.
So I went on my own.
In the past, this journey would have frightened me. However, I had discovered that, having once been a dragon, I was considerably more bold than I used to be.
Old Nell lived in a low, moss-covered cottage at the edge of the king’s wood. She was stooped and withered, and had but one eye. Despite this, she saw me well enough, knowing at once not just who I was but what I had been.
“Welcome, May Margret,” she said, in a voice that creaked from too little use. “I wondered if you might someday come to visit.”
I realized, with considerable shame, that I should have come well before this, to thank her for the wisdom she had given the countryfolk, the wisdom that had helped them ease my appetite. Blushing, I said, “I have been neglectful, and dishonor my house and rank by having waited this long to see you.”
Closing her one good eye, Nell replied softly, “Nor did you come now to thank me, I think.”
Blushing yet more fiercely, I said, “No, good woman. I come seeking more wisdom.”
“And prepared to pay?” she asked, her eye open and alight with greed.
“Of course,” I said, for I was not a total fool, despite my foolishness in not having come to see her sooner. I had brought a silver cup, which I had taken from my trousseau—easy enough to do, since my hopes lay in a direction far different than marriage.
When I unwrapped the cup, she sighed happily. “Come in then,” she croaked. “Come in and sit by my fire.”
The cottage was small and dark, and she shared it with a cat, also small and dark. Dried herbs hung from the rafters. More of the same were spread across the single small table. Their faint odor spiced the air, making the cottage smell more pleasant than I would have expected.
Nell moved awkwardly to the hearth. Though I tried not to stare, she saw that I noticed her limp. “Wood,” she said ruefully, knocking on her right leg. Then she offered me a stool. She took another for herself, and we sat, she unapologetic for the simplicity of the setting, I embarrassed for having been caught staring.
We remained in awkward silence as I struggled to find a way to begin. As it turned out, it was Nell who spoke first. Looking up at me with that one piercing eye, she said, “There’s a fire in your blood, en’t there, lady?”
I started, amazed that she knew what I was feeling. “How did you guess?”
The old woman made a rude sound. “No guessin’ involved, dearie. I was afeered this might happen. You can’t be dragon long without it doin’ somethin’ to you, and you were dragon longer than was good. You may wear a human skin now, but your blood—your blood is different than it was.”
“What should I do about it?”
She rose from her chair, and despite the fact that the movement clearly pained her, she seemed suddenly taller and more powerful. “Don’t play games with me, lass! That’s not the question you came to ask Old Nell, is it?”
&n
bsp; I drew back, startled, and a little frightened.
She glared at me with that single eye. “Well, is it?”
I shook my head and lowered my own eyes, unable to meet her fierce look.
“All right, let’s start again, knowing that these things are easier when you’re honest about them. What did you come for?”
I hesitated, wanting to be sure before I spoke the words. But I knew what had driven me here, knew what I felt I must do.
“I think … I think I want to become a dragon again,” I whispered.
“Well,” she replied, with some satisfaction. “Now we’re getting somewhere. But are you sure, girl? ‘Think’ is not good enough. This time there’ll be no turning back. Dragon now, dragon forever.”
Again I felt the fool. My desire had become so overwhelming that I had not really considered the matter of whether I might ever want to turn human again.
Nell read my confusion easily enough. “Go home and think some more, May Margret. If you feel the same in a month’s time, come back, and we’ll talk again.”
I placed the silver cup on the floor beside my stool. Nell nodded approvingly, then tipped her head, and said, “One more favor, lass. Could you send some butter and flour from the castle pantry? It would be much appreciated.”
“Of course,” I said.
She smiled. “And let that boy, William, be the one to carry them here.”
“William?” I asked.
“A sweet-faced lad, and a boon to my old eye,” she said. Then she cackled in a way that made my skin crawl and pushed me out the door.
THE next day I sought out William. I knew who he was, of course; he had come to work for us after his father, Lord MacRae, had fallen from grace and lost his lands during the war. He was indeed a handsome lad and always seemed grateful for our family’s generosity. I hoped I wasn’t sending him into an untoward situation by asking him to take the flour and butter to Old Nell. But he seemed happy enough with the task, so I did not worry about it further.
I had plenty of other matters to fret me.
I longed to speak to Wynde of what was on my mind but dared not, for I knew he could not understand. And the sight of his scars, each time I glanced sideways at him, made me feel a traitor for even thinking of returning to the skin from which he had freed me. But at the same time, the dreams grew stronger and more vivid, and the desire rose inside me like a flame. Now I woke from dreams of flying to find myself not tangled in sweat-soaked sheets but standing at the castle parapet, as if I were about to fling myself into the sky.
Except, of course, I had no wings. I began to wonder if I would make it through the days that Nell had asked me to wait without dashing myself against the rocks at the base of the seaward wall.
Wynde noticed my unease and distraction, of course. How could he not? But no matter how he pressed, I could not bring myself to speak to him of what was on my mind. So this became one more barrier between us, separating me from the person who had been dearest to me for most of my life.
To make things worse, the wedding preparations had begun. I did not think I could go through with the marriage, and returning to dragon shape seemed my best escape.
And that should have been the end of it. I had made a choice.
At least, I thought I had. But then Lord Dunbar arrived for a visit, and I found that he was no longer the obstreperous child I remembered but had become a handsome man, with flaxen hair and wide blue eyes set in a face as fair as any I had ever seen, save that of Wynde himself before I had scarred him.
Even worse, he was charming. During the week of his visit, he teased and joked with me, seeming unconcerned by my strange past. By the time he stole a farewell kiss—a kiss, I will confess, that I freely returned—I found I desired him with a fierceness that startled me, though I suppose it should not have, given how all my desires had been magnified since my time as a dragon.
There was, indeed, a fire in my blood.
Alas, Dunbar was not my only desire, and deep confusion was raging in my soul. So when the month was over, I returned to Old Nell’s cottage, not so much because I was certain of what I wanted to do as because it was to Nell alone that I could confess my competing desires.
“I wasn’t sure I would see you again,” said the hag when she opened the door to me. Pulling back the long strands of gray hair that dangled about her face, she stared at me for a moment with that one piercing eye, then added, “I sense you are not sure, either—not sure of which way your heart is pointing. Ah, well, lass. Come in and we’ll talk a bit.”
When we were seated by her fire again, she said, “I can brew for you a potion that will return you to your dragon form. It will stay potent for a goodly time, so you will not need to make your choice right away.” With a shrug, she added, “Who knows—maybe simply having it will settle your heart.”
“Yes,” I said eagerly. “Please do this for me.”
She looked away for a moment, then said apologetically, “I have nearly everything I need …”
“Nearly everything?” I prompted.
She sighed. “There is one last thing you will have to fetch for me yourself.”
“What is it?” I asked, feeling a tingle of fear simply because of the tone in her voice when she said it.
Nell twisted her hands together, then said apologetically, “As it was your stepmother who cast the spell to begin with, I must have something from her to brew this new one.”
“I believe some of her clothing remains in the tower room that she had made her own,” I said, feeling a bit of relief.
She shook her head. “You misunderstand me, May Margret. I need something from her.”
It took longer than it should have for me to realize what the old woman meant, for I had thought of our stepmother as being dead, though of course she was not. “But she’s a toad!” I blurted, when I finally did make out her meaning.
“I had caught word of that,” said Nell dryly. “That doesn’t change the fact that I need something of her in order to complete the brew. Do you know where she is?”
“How could I know that? She hopped away after Wynde struck her with the rowan wand and has not been seen since.”
“Well, if you want this change, you’ll have to find her.”
“If I do, what is it that I must seek of her?”
Nell smiled, displaying two or three teeth. “Any part of her would do. Of course, she is unlikely to willingly surrender a foot, or even a toe. You could try bargaining, but I’m not sure what you could offer that would convince her to make such a trade.”
My despair must have shown on my face, for Nell laughed. “Fortunately for you, my dear, I need not even so much as a toe. If you can but run a cloth over her back it will suffice. From that I can draw enough of her essence to brew what you need.” She paused, then said, “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Be careful not to touch her yourself. To do so will muddle the magic.”
I wandered back to Arlesboro Castle, feeling lonely and lost. It seemed impossible to do as Nell had asked, since I had no idea where the queen had gone. However, I did have one hope, and that was the castle servants. I knew them well enough to know that gossip was their gold, as important to them as their daily bread. If word of where the queen might be hiding was to be had, it was among them that it would be found. So the next evening, when the day’s work was done and the castle was quieting, I sat in the kitchen with Cook and her helpers.
For some time I simply listened, waiting for a way to bring up my question without seeming too anxious for an answer. At first their talk was all of local doings, what maid had been caught with what lad doing what she ought not, and other such matters. But finally one of them—a girl named Hannah, who had been a playmate when we were younger—spoke about something that had happened, “back when the lady was a dragon.” She caught herself, and an embarrassed silence fell over the group. But I simply laughed, and said, “That was months ago, Hannah. Though what you say does b
ring to mind something I’ve been wondering about.”
“What is that, lady?” asked Hannah, clearly relieved not to have offended.
“I often ask myself where the old queen went after Wynde be-toaded her.”
Suddenly the silence was deeper than before, and furtive looks were exchanged among the women.
“Oh, come,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “It’s clear you know. Where is she?”
It was Cook who finally answered. “She haunts the lower depths of the castle, lady. Everyone knows that.”
I did not sleep well that night. I felt a tightness in my heart to think my stepmother had been so near to us all this time.
AS it turned out, the toad queen was not quite so near as Cook thought, something I discovered the night I finally found the courage to go belowground and seek her.
To prepare for my journey, I first made four rushlight torches—one to carry as I started, three to bind at my side for later use. Uncertain of what powers the queen might still possess, I took also a wand of rowan wood. More, I girded myself about with a wide belt I wove from slender rowan twigs. This I wore beneath my kirtle, so that my stepmother would not see it.
I waited till all were asleep, then slipped down to the kitchen, from which there was passage to the lower levels. I went first through the cellars where we stored our ale, and the root vegetables, and the barrels of salted meat. Below those cellars lay the dungeon. This, I suspected, was where the toad queen lurked.
The stone stairs to the dungeon were wet, as slick as if covered with dew. The wall—not brick, but carved from the living rock—was cool and moist to my touch. I heard no sound save the crackle of my rush torch, for I walked in silence, as I had been able to do ever since my time as a dragon.
When I reached the dungeon, a shiver rippled over my flesh. The flickering light of my torch revealed the chains that hung from the walls; the horrid implements of pain, carefully arrayed in a rotting wooden rack; the dark ashes of a long-dead fire where iron was once heated until it was red-hot.
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