Tempest (The Scribes of Medeisia)

by R. K. Ryals

  Cadeyrn stared, his watchful eyes roaming over the man’s face. I knew without a doubt this was Blayne Dragern, the same man I’d written the missive to, the prince’s uncle. It is amazing how things come full circle. From a piece of parchment to a face.

  “It’s been too long,” Cadeyrn said carefully, “but do I stand here now greeting my mother’s brother or a traitor?”

  There was no reaction from Blayne; his face was impassive. It was a strong face, angular with high cheekbones. He was clean shaven—as most Sadeemians seemed to be—but his eyes were different, slanted in the corners. I wondered if all people from New Hope had eyes like that.

  “A traitor?” Blayne asked.

  Cadeyrn took a step forward. “What are you doing in the waters off Rolleen, Blayne? You’re supposed to be in Guarda inspecting the spice market.”

  Blayne looked away, his gaze moving to Gryphon before landing once more on Cadeyrn.

  “I returned home early. There was nothing of import in Guarda.”

  Cadeyrn straightened. He was taller than Blayne by several inches, and he used the height to his advantage. His thick hair made him look like the pictures I’d seen of wild cats rather than a prince.

  “You never went to Guarda,” the prince said. His voice was hard, and I shivered. “Never forget, Uncle, I always know when a man lies.”

  I glanced down at Oran. That’s why Cadeyrn trusted us! He’d led us to believe he needed proof our king wanted war, but he’d never needed proof. Not really. Lochlen had known that. I thought back on the tent in Sadeemia when we’d met Cadeyrn for the first time. Gryphon had held me at sword point, but Cadeyrn had knelt, his eyes on mine.

  “Stand back,” Cadeyrn had ordered. “Let them up. They tell the truth.”

  Lochlen had stepped forward. “So that is one of your powers then, Prince?” the dragon asked.

  Cadeyrn had never answered, but I now knew he could discern lie from truth. What an awful, yet wonderful, gift. Wonderful in politics, awful in life. I’m sure I’d been lied to more often than not, especially when it came to my appearance. Some lies are not meant to hurt, they are meant to encourage. It was a great ethical question. When, if ever, was it okay to lie?

  Blayne had stood silent while I brooded from my hiding place, but he moved now, his eyes on Cadeyrn as he paced the wharf.

  “You are a foolish man,” he sneered, one hand rising to gesture at the ship.

  I started to step forward, my hand reaching for a bow that wasn’t there. Men rose from the trade-cog, their faces covered, and their eyes gleaming. All of them wore black. All of them held war scythes; wooden-handled weapons with wicked, curved blades at the end.

  Cadeyrn merely glanced at them, a small smile forming on his lips.

  “Am I foolish, Uncle?” he asked.

  With a flick of Cadeyrn’s hand, Blayne was suddenly surrounded by his own men, their scythes resting inches from his face.

  Blayne’s face drained of color, his eyes going wide as it swept the men surrounding him. Cadeyrn showed no pity.

  “I’ve been fighting wars a long time, Uncle. A long, long time. Since I was old enough to hold a weapon, I was on the battlefield, first as a page and later as a warrior. Do you really think I’m foolish enough to meet you without first double-crossing you?” Cadeyrn glanced at the men. “Take him back to his boat and chain him there along with his men, and remove your row boats from beneath the wharf.”

  Cadeyrn’s gaze moved to Gryphon. “I leave you with them. Tomorrow we take Blayne’s vessel up the coast to Majesta.”

  Gryphon nodded as Cadeyrn turned and moved away, his eyes on the village. He didn’t glance back, but I watched as Gryphon directed the men. They chained Blayne and led him to the trade-cog, while some used rope to propel down the side of the vessel to the sea below.

  Cadeyrn was passing the building where I hid when I stepped free of the shadows, Oran at my side.

  “We never needed to stop the assassination.”

  I spoke with an authority I didn’t feel. Cadeyrn froze, his back to me.

  “You followed me here,” he accused.

  I used his own words against him. “Do you really think I’m foolish enough to ignore two men I’m supposed to trust the lives of my people with while they head out on a midnight agenda right beneath my nose?”

  Cadeyrn swiveled, his face unreadable, but there was something in his eyes ... respect maybe? It was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

  He took a step toward me. “We leave for the capital tomorrow. It’s on the coast, a half day by boat down this beach. In Majesta, we will meet with the king.” Cadeyrn’s eyes moved from my messy, sleep-tousled hair to the gown I wore. I squirmed. “Your king’s plans may be foiled, but there is much for you and your people to learn about war, much you will need to learn about what you are and what you can be.”

  I stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  Cadeyrn’s gaze came back to mine. “You are not the only country with a prophecy, not the only people who have read the page from your Kiarian Freesonalay.”

  Oran brushed against my gown, but I ignored him.

  “What do you know of the Book of Truth?” I asked.

  The prince closed the gap between us. Oran growled, but Cadeyrn didn’t spare him a glance. His face looked down into mine, his eyes cold.

  “Your lover talked about the prophecy and called you the Phoenix. A dragon prince follows you, and animals listen when you speak. Out of the ashes of devastation will arise a Phoenix, a child born under a Harvest Moon with forbidden magick. But do you remember the rest of the prophecy?” he asked.

  It was chilly out, but I could still feel sweat beginning to bead up along my brow, my heart pounding. My eyes searched his.

  “To the prosperous kingdom, there will be born a son to the ruler. His magick will be borne of steel, strong. His life will be cursed with hardships. His power will make others greedy, murderous. He will be plagued with death ...” I recited. My eyes widened. I had seen the prince holding his sword as if he often sought comfort from the metal, from the steel. “You,” I whispered. “The prophecy is about you.”

  Cadeyrn didn’t blink. “It doesn’t take a scribe to figure that out.”

  He was right. It’s not as if it hadn’t been obvious. The son of a prosperous ruler, his magic borne of steel. His life plagued with death. It had been under my nose the whole time, but I hadn’t given the prophecy much thought after leaving Medeisia. The wyvers, the desert, the Sadeemian camp, Brennus’ death, and then Kye ... I hadn’t cared much about the Book of Truth or who I was supposed to be. I hadn’t cared about an unknown prince. Until now.

  I studied his face. It was a strong face, full of secrets and mysteries no one would ever be able to figure out. There was too much there, too many stories.

  “Do you know what it means?” I asked.

  Cadeyrn looked over my shoulder at the wharf. I could hear rowing in the water and knew Cadeyrn had sent men ahead to board the trade-cog in secrecy, to capture Blayne’s men and take the vessel as his own. Blayne never would have suspected it, not in the middle of the night when all but a few guards would be sleeping. Not in Rolleen, his home port. Maybe I hadn’t noticed that Cadeyrn was as much a part of the prophecy as I was, but I had plenty of common sense. His men had taken the trade-cog while his uncle slept and disguised themselves, and then Cadeyrn had sent someone to summon his uncle. I was impressed.

  “Do you know what it all means?” I asked again. “The prophecy? I’m supposed to be a phoenix of peace, and yet I have been plagued with death, by people who keep dying because of me.”

  Cadeyrn’s gaze met mine again. “You have not been plagued by death. You have been surrounded by patriots willing to risk their lives for freedom. There is death in war. People didn’t die for you, Drastona. They died for a cause. No one in my life died for a cause. They died because of me. You are life, hope, and a chance at freedom. A symbol. Even if you do nothing more than speak to natu
re, you are a beacon for your people. That is all people need in war.”

  My lips parted. “And you then? What are you to the prophecy?”

  Cadeyrn bent, his face close to mine. “I am death. Where there is life, there must always be death. In Sadeemia, the scribes believe that the phoenix will save her country, but in the process, I will die.”

  I shook my head. “It never says that.”

  Cadeyrn laughed. “No, but where you are valued in Medeisia, I warn you now that you are feared here. For my people believe you will destroy a prince in order to save a country.”

  I shook my head again, harder this time.

  “I have no wish to destroy anyone,” I whispered. “One prince has already been lost.”

  I choked on the words, my face heating with tears I would not shed. Cadeyrn stepped away from me.

  “Just remember,” he said. “I do not fear death. Death should fear me.”

  With that, the prince walked away. He knew I’d follow. He had to know I’d follow, my steps falling behind his as we moved stealthily into the village. Oran walked beside me, but he said nothing.

  “Do you believe that?” I asked the wolf. “Do you believe I am life and the prince is death?”

  The wolf’s muscles bunched as he moved. “Prophecies are not always to be believed. It is a guess, a projected moment in time. The future can change.”

  I looked down at him. “That didn’t answer my question.”

  Oran chuckled. “Because it has no answer. Only time will tell.”

  I swallowed hard. “I killed Kye.”

  My words hung between us. The Sadeemians believed I would destroy a prince in order to save a kingdom. Maybe Cadeyrn was wrong. Maybe the prince wasn’t him. What if I was the reason Kye was dead?

  “You reach too deep, Phoenix. You can’t live your life always wondering things that may not be true.”

  I knew this, I did, but I also couldn’t live my life knowing I’d destroyed someone.

  “He loved you,” Oran said. “He always knew there was a chance he’d die in war. All of us know that. Even you. It’s a risk we all take, including you. Cadeyrn is right. Kye died for a cause.”

  The inn was in front of us again. Cadeyrn walked to a back entrance, and we followed him in, our steps taking us through a kitchen mottled with sleeping servants before we made it to the stairs. Cadeyrn took us to my room, waving the guards away before opening my door.

  Cadeyrn’s eyes met mine. “You are important to your people. Don’t let grief or fear cripple you now.”

  He let go of the door and moved into the shadows. I watched him walk away. The prince had said he wasn’t afraid of death. I wanted to be that way. And he was right, I had let Kye’s death cripple me. I’d spent the last week grieving, sullen and withdrawn. I’d blamed myself and blamed Raemon. I’d cursed, taken down a wyver, and threatened a king. I’d cried into a pillow, and I’d let myself break.

  Now, it was time to move beyond that, to hurt and to heal, but to also lead.

  Chapter 22

  “We’re what?”

  It was Maeve that asked, her voice rising. She looked beautiful in a burgundy gown with a wine-colored surcoat. Her dark hair was up, twisted on top of her head with a few wispy strands framing her face. She didn’t have curly hair like mine, and I envied her that. The best I’d managed was a silver circlet that rested on my curls. Reenah had said circlets and hats were the fashion in Sadeemia for women who chose to wear their hair down. Mine was too short to wear up, and I’d quickly said no to the hat.

  Lochlen moved up behind Maeve as we stepped from the inn, the early morning sun reflecting off blue and red roofs. Rolleen was a colorful town, almost as colorful as its people. And there were a lot of people. They lined the streets even now, their curious eyes following us as Cadeyrn led us once more toward the sea.

  “The sea is nothing to be afraid of,” Lochlen assured Maeve.

  She gulped. “You can swim!” she argued.

  Daegan patted her on the back. “If you go overboard, I promise to jump in after you.”

  I hid a smile. “That’s not helping, Daegan,” I said. I was pretty sure the bowman couldn’t swim either, outside of bathing.

  I couldn’t swim, but I wasn’t terrified of the water. If anything, it fascinated me. Like anything in nature, I was beginning to learn that water had a language of its own. It didn’t speak words like the animals did, and it didn’t speak to me in the scratchy, wooden language of the trees. Instead, it hummed. It was a soft hum. I’d first noticed it that morning as I was standing at the window of my room, the glass pushed open. I’d smelled the breeze and listened as the seagulls goaded each other. And then there was the hum.

  “Are you singing?” I’d asked Oran.

  The wolf had looked up at me and growled, “Wolves don’t sing.”

  I’d glanced back at the ocean, my eyes going wide. “I think it’s the ocean,” I’d gasped.

  Oran had chuckled. “Of course it is the ocean. You didn’t hear it before?”

  I’d shaken my head, my eyes on the distant waves. “No,” I’d answered.

  Oran had walked to me then and jumped up, his paws resting next to my hands on the sill.

  “Don’t forget to listen to us, Phoenix. If you aren’t listening, you won’t hear us. Water may belong primarily to Liqueet, but Silveet has a hand in it, too.”

  I’d not forgotten to listen again, and I heard it now as we paraded through Rolleen’s streets. Humming. Quiet humming.

  “They’ve taken Blayne Dragern into custody,” Daegan said as he dropped back to walk beside me. “And now we meet with the king.” He sounded unsure.

  I looked up at him. Cadeyrn had filled the rest of our entourage in on Blayne’s arrest before we’d left the inn after breakfast, but he’d omitted my involvement. I was grateful for that.

  “It’s a good thing, Daegan. Now maybe we can get help in Medeisia.”

  Rolleen’s people cheered as Cadeyrn passed by them, but they quieted when their eyes landed on us. If only they knew I was the girl who was supposed to destroy their prince. I understood now why the prince’s guards watched me warily, why their eyes always seemed to avoid mine. I knew now why they’d all gone quiet when Kye had spoken of the Kiarian Freesonalay in the prince’s tent. But these people didn’t know yet. No one outside Cadeyrn’s men knew. That would change when we faced the king.

  The wharf from the night before came into view, the trade-cog sitting quietly in the sea-green water around the dock. Gryphon stood next to one of the posts, quietly leaning against it as we moved toward him.

  “Everything secure?” Cadeyrn asked.

  Gryphon nodded. “Blayne spent most of the night throwing a fit. It seems he’s not used to anything less than royal treatment.”

  Cadeyrn snorted. “He wouldn’t be.”

  A few men stepped from a loading platform and onto the dock, each of them greeting the prince and the personal guard that had traveled with Cadeyrn into Rolleen. His personal guard was an extraordinary bunch of men and very observant, even if some of them didn’t like me. Ryon, for example.

  “It’s a good day to travel by sea,” Gryphon said, his eyes going to the water. I saw Maeve shudder from the corner of my eye.

  The people of Rolleen gathered around the wharf as we boarded, their handkerchiefs waving. It was such a new experience for most of us. We didn’t cheer for Raemon in Medeisia, we hid.

  I took one last look at the village by the sea. At the white sands and whitewashed houses with blue and red roofs, at the cliffs, and at the small trade-cogs and fishing boats that filled the water. Many of them were getting ready to go to sea for the day. Others were being loaded with goods for towns further down the coast. Our trade-cog was the biggest vessel.

  “Larger trading vessels and foreign ships dock in Majesta,” Cadeyrn said from behind me. I looked over my shoulder at the prince. He wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were on the sea.

  “I didn’t ask
,” I said.

  “No,” he answered. “You didn’t.”

  But I’d been thinking it. I looked away.

  “I’d really prefer traveling in the sea,” Lochlen groused from beside us. He pulled at the collar of his now blue tunic.

  “I’d prefer traveling on land,” Oran added.

  I pinched my lips together to keep from grinning. Oran was having a difficult time staying on his feet as the anchor was pulled up. Men moved behind us, letting out the single sail so the breeze off the ocean could pull us down the coast.

  “I’m going to be sick,” Maeve groaned.

  She leaned over the side of the boat, but quickly swiveled, her green face toward us once she caught sight of the water.

  “If you throw up on me, I will throw you overboard,” Daegan mumbled.

  The bowman didn’t look too good himself. He gripped the side of the cog, his knuckles going white, his jaw tensing.

  “A less sea friendly lot I’ve ever seen,” Gryphon teased as he moved past.

  I caught a quick smile passing between him and the prince. They were both amused by the misery.

  “We’re forest folk,” I defended.

  “They are,” Lochlen corrected. “Dragons can adapt to anything.”

  The sea hummed in response and Lochlen closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. The prince took pity on him.

  “You can swim beside the vessel,” Cadeyrn said.

  Lochlen groaned, lifting the blue tunic he wore over his head before handing it to me. His human form wasn’t bad to look at. He was skinnier than Kye had been, and not quite as broad in the shoulders as Cadeyrn, but the sleekness of his muscles was just as attractive. It went well with his reptilian eyes and russet hair.

  Lochlen handed me his shirt. I held it up, my mouth twitching.

  “What’s the point? It’s going to disappear when you change,” I said.

  Lochlen grinned. “I had to do something to distract Maeve. She was about to lose her breakfast on your shoes.”

  I glanced quickly in Maeve’s direction and realized the dragon was right. She looked more than a little ill, her hand over her stomach. Lochlen’s chest diverted her attention, but not for long. She moaned, leaning over so that her hands rested on her knees.