by Lindsey Duga
“So what did you tell them?” I whispered to Zach as a few Romantica waved to us—a young teenage boy and two older men.
“I fed them a story of how we’re traveling to the village for trade.” Zach waved back and led us over.
The older man, dressed in a deep-purple tunic, gray pants, and a vest woven with crimson and indigo threads, spread his arms and smiled—I guessed he did. It was hard to tell with his big black beard. “Welcome, travelers—friends! Young maiden.” With a flourish, he grabbed my hand and planted a swift, scratchy kiss on my knuckles. “My name is Jiaza, and this is my brother, Pan, and my son, Kiaza. It’s a delight to have you at our feast. Come, come, there’s plenty. Kiaza, take their horses and get them watered.”
Jiaza, still grasping my hand, brought me to the women with giant steaming pots and chunks of meat roasted on sticks. In no time, the smiling, busty Romantica women had laden us with food. Immediately Brom took a bite of his meat, and I followed suit. The savory juices of the pheasant, bursting with flavors of shassa root, frezz berries, lemon pepper, and other hidden herbs, consumed my senses, and it was all I could do to not gobble it down while standing.
Jiaza led me to a spot near the fire and sat across from me. “So,” he began, rubbing his hands together, “traveling north, eh? Whereabouts you three from?”
“Myria’s Crown City,” I answered before taking a large bite of pheasant.
“Ah, good honest folk down there, but not much for celebrating! Too many fighters. If you ask me, it’s all the Legion’s fault.” Jiaza nodded knowingly.
“No one asked yeh, yeh old coot,” a voice said from behind.
Laughter rippled through the little circle, but Jiaza ignored them and winked at me. “Lovely women, though, yeah? Now, what’re you looking to trade?”
I chewed faster to answer, but before I even swallowed, one of the women who had served the food sat next to me and drew an arm around my shoulders. “Hush, Jiaza, the poor dears are just about starved for a decent meal. Let them eat! They can suffer your interrogation after their stomachs are full.”
The woman, who introduced herself as Yana, was Jiaza’s wife and insisted I have second helpings. She even gave Bromley thirds, mostly because he was too nice to say no. Yana was a heavyset woman with thick dark-brown hair that was braided with beads and red threads. Her attire was simpler than that of her daughters and nieces, and much more concealing.
The younger Romantica girls wore surprisingly little for the northern climate, with bangles and shiny metals on their wrists, ankles, and collarbones to reflect the firelight when they danced. And there always seemed to be at least one of them dancing. They moved like firebirds, diving into the flames, spreading their sparkling silk wings and swooping away. I had never seen dances such as these. Only Royal waltzes at the castle. This Romantica dancing was foreign and mesmerizing.
I could understand why Zach would enjoy watching the dancing girls, because I was captivated by them, too.
Yet, I did not like it.
Nor did I like when they flitted around him, touching his arms and whispering into his ear, pulling him closer to the fire for a dance.
I ignored them, pretending not to see and not to care. No, I wasn’t pretending—I really didn’t care. What would be the point? I had no reason to be irritated. None whatsoever.
“Maid, what troubles you? Do you wish to dance?”
A young man with curly black hair and a golden crystal dangling from his ear stood before me, his hand outstretched. His brown eyes reflected the firelight.
“Wish to…? Oh, no—I’m fine.” I laughed nervously, scooting away from the smell of smoke that clung to his hair and clothes. Not that it was a bad smell. It was sweet. “Besides, I can’t dance.”
“Nonsense.” The man grasped my hand and tugged. “Everyone can dance!”
“Not this one.” Another hand caught the man’s wrist and pulled it away from me. Zach smiled as he stepped in front of me and dropped his hold on the Romantica. “Believe me, she’ll step on your toes out there.”
The man shrugged and returned to the ring around the fire, clapping to the music’s rhythm.
The night air was chilly, but the heat in my cheeks and neck warmed my body all over. “I’d step on your toes,” I muttered as we took seats on a bench together.
“You could try.” He laughed. “But I’m an excellent dancer. Maybe I’ll show you.”
“I might enjoy that. Remind me the next time we’re not on a dangerous mission surrounded by dark curses.”
Jiaza, who had been drinking deeply from his cup, suddenly stopped and bent forward. “You two ran into a curse?”
Zach and I glanced at each other. Inwardly, I kicked myself. What was I thinking, bringing up this talk in front of Romantica?
But the bearded man didn’t wait for our reply. He shook his head and took another swig. “More curses. More creatures. When will it end?” Then he reared back and threw his cup into the fire, the flames sparking angrily.
“Jiaza!” Yana hit her husband with a cleaning rag that hung from her belt. “That was a good mug!”
“Bah! What good are mugs if we’re attacked nearly every week?” Jiaza grumbled, clearly drunk.
Yana sighed and turned to Zach, Brom, and me. “I’m sorry about that, my dears. We’re just frustrated. We’ve had some rough days. And after seeing the last cursed village…”
“Cursed village?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s just north of here. It’s a terrible disease, started by some witch’s curse, no doubt. Things were so bad we didn’t even stop long enough for water from their well. Poor villagers are suffering, but being so far from Myria, they haven’t had any Royals check on them.”
“Royals!” Jiaza roared suddenly, squeezing his beefy fists together. “Good riddance! We’re better off without them!”
I bit my lip, suppressing a retort. It wasn’t as if I didn’t already know how Romantica viewed us.
“But Royals help us,” Brom said, glancing at me.
We didn’t just help them. We fought for them. Died for them. And yet here was this ungrateful…heretic— Zach squeezed my arm, and I refocused.
Jiaza’s features were now slumped, the light in his eyes no longer there. “Oh, sure, they help where they can. But really, lad, they’re just cleaning up their own mess.”
This time Zach’s squeeze couldn’t stop me from speaking up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Yana pursed her lips and smoothed her worn, ruffled skirt. Jiaza raised a bushy eyebrow. “Why, the tale, maiden. The Tale. Of Queen Myriana and her sister, Saevalla.”
I stiffened. The history of my ancestors was not a campfire story to be told over drinks. It was something to be read, studied. It was not just a tale.
Brom leaned forward with wide eyes. “What do you mean, cleaning up their mess?”
Jiaza stroked his beard. “I’m surprised yeh haven’t heard it, lad. Well then, let ole Jiaza tell you the story the kingdoms don’t have in their books. Yeh see, they don’t want yeh thinking it’s their fault. They want yeh to believe the Legion is our savior—”
“Jiaza, don’t yeh say another word against the Royals. They’re honest young sirs and ladies putting their lives on the line every day. They deserve our respect,” Yana said.
I felt a rush of gratitude toward the woman, which was just as well, seeing as how I was inches from punching her husband.
“Aye, aye, yeh right.” Jiaza nodded slowly, and his eyes seemed to focus a little more, as if he were sobering up. “Nevertheless, we have our stories and they have theirs, eh? Oh it’s similar enough, mind yeh. Myriana Holly, hair as black as a starless night with lips the color of holly berries…”
Jiaza went on to recount the history I knew so well I could tell it in my sleep. I was reminded of the young princess in my class only a week ago reciting the same story. At least, it had started the same way…
“…driven by his deep feelings for Myriana, the beast
put himself between her and the dwarf’s ax, sacrificing himself to save his true love.”
I snorted, but no one seemed to notice.
“The beast fell with a great boom that was said to have shaken the forest and emptied the trees of their leaves. But like her sister, Saevalla had also fallen in love with Raed, and through anger and grief, drew her dagger and plunged it into the dwarf’s heart—”
“Saevalla did no such thing!” I said, appalled. All eyes turned on me. “Myriana kissed the beast out of gratitude, and with her power, Raed turned back into a human with enough power to kill the dwarf.”
Jiaza lifted one eyebrow and regarded me. “Aye, maiden, that is what’s in the Royals’ history books. But the truth”—he shook his head—“the truth is far more twisted.”
I pursed my lips, not wishing to hear any more of these awful Romantica tales, but Zach kept his grip on my arm.
“The truth is that both sisters had fallen in love with the beast,” Jiaza said.
“Must’ve been some beast!” joked a man with short hair and a goatee.
“Hush, Tico, let him tell the story,” said a girl.
“While Saevalla stood over the dwarf’s corpse, shaking with tears,” Jiaza boomed, drowning out the others, “Myriana kissed her beloved Raed and this True Love’s Kiss turned the beast back into the hunter.”
Tico walked behind us, stroking his goatee and grinning. “Myriana and Saevalla were overjoyed to have their beloved back,” he said, deepening his voice to impersonate Jiaza, and pausing for dramatic effect. “Except…he loved but one sister.” He leaned in between Zach and me, his dark eyes catching mine. “He asked Myriana to marry him. She accepted, knowing her sister loved the man, too. The jealousy and hate within Saevalla grew dark and twisted.”
Jiaza picked the story back up. “And when Myriana’s and Raed’s first child was born, Saevalla stole the child away into the night.”
This time, the girl—the same girl who had hushed Tico before—drew her knees up to her chest and continued. “She went to the six brothers of the dwarf whom she had slain and told them an awful lie—that it was Myriana’s husband—her own beloved—who had killed their brother. Saevalla then handed over her niece to the dwarves as a peace offering and payment to help her seek revenge upon her sister and Raed.”
“Eager for the same vengeance, the dwarves granted her more than a curse.” Tico slipped his arm around Zach’s shoulders and mine and drew us closer, lowering his voice to a fierce whisper. “They granted her all their powers, sacrificing their own lives in the process, to turn her into something more evil than anything that had ever walked this earth. Saevalla was consumed by the darkness in their souls and turned into the Wicked Queen—Mistress and Mother of the Forces. With the dwarves’ powers, she gave rise to an entire army…to the Forces of Darkness.”
“No!” I yelled, standing so suddenly that Tico nearly toppled backward. Everyone looked at me in surprise. “Lies! None of you even—”
Zach squeezed my arm, and I tore from his grasp and stormed away. I kicked up leaves and dirt as I practically ran from the fire and the sounds of Romantica merriment, back into the forest.
I shook my head violently, as if the story I had just heard would simply fall from my ears. What terrible lies. Saevalla would’ve never done such a thing to her sister. And everything had happened because of Love? All the jealousy and hate…it was nonsense. This was why the Romantica were dangerous. They dwelled too much on emotion and allowed it to rule their thoughts, their actions, their very lives. Not only that, but they threw around lies about the Legion’s true origins. The Royal Three had discovered they were a different breed of mortals—not mages, but still holding unique magic. Romantica liked to think they were simply mortals and nothing special. But they were wrong. They’d had magic that had never existed before and produced heirs, hoping the magic would continue through their bloodline. And it did.
I was proof. All the Royals were proof.
The smells of the food and fire disappeared and were replaced with the crisp scent of pine and brucel. Branches tugged at my clothes and stung my skin as I hurried into the forest, but the stinging in my eyes was much worse.
Why did Jiaza’s version bother me so much? Was it because Zach probably believed in this awful, twisted version of Myriana and Saevalla? It tore up my insides. How could the Romantica think that of us? That the Royals’ ancestors were the cause of all this darkness?
A hand grabbed my shoulder, and I whirled around. It was Zach, his face drawn tight with concern. “Ivy—”
“You—you believe this tale as well, don’t you? This—this horrid lie?” I batted his hand away from my shoulder.
Zach took hold of my forearms instead. “Ivy, who knows what truly happened? It was five hundred years ago!”
“I don’t care how long ago it was. It matters! They think we’re the reason they’re suffering—how could they think that? And how dare they say that about Saevalla? She was loyal to her sister, she would’ve never—” I was so angry I could barely complete sentences.
Zach slid his hands down to my wrists and intertwined our fingers. With his touch I felt a sudden rush in my blood, remembering last night by the fire. It both shocked and calmed me.
“Ivy.” His voice was soft. “It’s just a story…a legend. Nothing more than that. And besides, what you do—what you fight for—is much more important than what a few entertainers think.” Zach placed his hands on my cheeks, his fingertips brushing my hair. “Think about the dragon. Remember the destruction it will bring, and forgive their words. What you and I believe…isn’t important. It’s what we do to help these lands that really counts.”
The raging storm inside me died down to a gentle breeze. Slowly, I nodded.
Zach smiled and moved his hands to my hair tied in a tight bun. “Now,” he murmured. With a quick tug, he removed the ribbon, and my hair tumbled down around my shoulders. “Let’s have some fun.”
Chapter
Nineteen
Distracted
Zach pulled me back toward the Romantica camp. Back to the fire and the music and the dancing…back to the lies. But Zach was right. It was just their story. So what if they believed in something different than I did? I’d always known about their blasphemous version, but hearing it…well, it changed nothing.
With my anger disappearing like the smoke rising to the stars, I let Zach pull me into the firelight. The little band of musicians struck up a tune that was fast and upbeat, and although I didn’t know any real steps, I was eager to join in.
On the other side of the fire, Jiaza stood with Tico. He raised his new mug of ale, as if in apology for upsetting me. Part of me was tempted to return and apologize myself, but that would mean leaving Zach’s hand and the beat of the music. I wasn’t willing to give that up.
I looked back at Zach, and he was watching me. Half his face cloaked in shadow and the other—amber and gold.
“No time like the present,” Zach said, and before I could ask what he meant, he spun me around and pulled me close, my back against his chest with one arm around my waist. Like this, I could feel the rhythm with which he danced. As quickly as Zach had pulled me in, he pushed me out and twirled me.
My feet stepped in time to the claps, and before I knew it, I was dancing. Perhaps not perfectly or gracefully, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the feeling that came with it. It was pure exhilaration. Right then, all the constricting rules and expectations slid off me. The sweet smoke from the fire filled my hair and tunic, and I was whisked away by its wild scent. And by the wild gleam in Zach’s eyes.
Then the beats changed, and there was a lighthearted shout from the Romantica in unison. Dancers suddenly started trading partners, winding their way around the fire, linking arms and twisting, then letting go and linking again.
A stranger grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. It was all I could do not to stumble. Then a woman grasped my arm, twisted around, and moved
past me in a blur. Dancer after dancer took my arms and pulled past me, weaving in and out like a figure eight. Amazingly, I managed to keep up and follow their folk dance. It was exciting, but I was acutely aware of Zach’s absence.
The music changed tempo and the partner-switching stopped. I was left with a young man with curly hair and a crystal earring—the same man from earlier.
He winked at me. “Looks like I get that dance after all, eh, maid?”
Caught up in the atmosphere, I laughed. “Yes, it seems I’ve gotten better.”
Although I didn’t step on his toes, I wasn’t nearly as graceful as I had felt with Zach. As soon as the thought entered my mind, annoyance surfaced for comparing everything to him.
Then I caught sight of Zach, and the irritation escalated. A girl hung on his arm, batting her long lashes.
Distracted, I missed a step and tripped over my own feet. I expected to stumble, even hit the ground, but instead strong arms looped about my waist and twirled me back around.
The man grinned as his hand traveled up the small of my back, then between my shoulder blades. “You were doing so well.”
I tried to inch away, but the pressure on my back increased. I frowned, not liking that look in his eyes. It reminded me of Amias when I was about to bestow a Kiss on him.
But the man merely grinned again. “Up for another dance, maid? I could teach you more.”
“Tempting,” I said, forcing a laugh. “But I should get back to my companions. We have to leave early tomorrow.”
The Romantica raised an eyebrow and looked over my shoulder meaningfully. “Something tells me one of them might be staying up rather late.”
Confused, I followed his gaze.
The Romantica girl had Zach’s cheeks in her hands, his lips pressed to hers.
I watched, the music fading into a muted buzz, as Zach jerked away, his gaze catching mine. Those hazel eyes widened, and his mouth popped open. He took a step forward, but I was already turning away, my hair whipping about and falling down my other shoulder, reminding me of only minutes ago when his fingertips had been in it. This time, I ran.