Harbinger

by Nicole Conway

  My mind raced. I didn’t have anything within reach to smash it with, should it decide to explore my bed. Going back to sleep was not an option when the idea of prickly spider legs tangling in my hair was a very possible threat.

  Help—I needed help. Or a very large boot. Unfortunately, my boots were sitting right beside my socks out in the main room. They’d been soaked from trudging around in the snow all day, so I’d left them by the hearth to dry.

  I could make it to the door in four long strides if I tried. I gathered my nightgown in my hands, counted to three, and ran. I ran like a banshee out of the room, slamming the door behind me. Out in the hall, I darted for the first door I could think of.

  Then I stopped.

  Gods and Fates, was I really about to ask Phillip for help? I stepped back and wrenched the end of my nightgown in my fists. Staring up at his door, I tried to rationalize. Maybe I could find a boot or a book or something and go back in and—

  The knob creaked. I shrank back as the door cracked open and Phillip stuck his head out into the hall. “Jenna, is that you?” He squinted down at me. “I thought I heard a door slam.”

  “H-Hello. Um, I mean, good evening.”

  He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “It’s the middle of the night. What’s the matter?”

  “Ah, yes. It is. I know … it’s just that … ” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him anymore. So instead, I stared down at my bare toes and gnawed on the inside of my cheek.

  “What is it?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

  “I think there’s a spider under my bed.” I blurted it out before I could talk myself out of it. When he didn’t reply, I winced and slowly raised my gaze up to meet his again.

  Phillip was staring down at me, his mouth hanging open. “A spider?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure, but it looked like one. I heard a noise under the bed. There was something crawling around.” I tried my best to make it seem legitimate, but the more I explained, the more absurd it sounded. “There were legs, Phillip. Lots of legs.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re aware that you are, in fact, a dragonrider, right? You’ve reminded me of this on numerous occasions—tonight, even.”

  My eyes narrowed into a glare.

  “You’ve killed people. Dozens of them. Not to mention monsters that looked like they’d crawled straight from the deepest pits of the abyss.”

  “Of course, I know that. But it’s a spider.”

  “So?”

  “A very big spider.” I crossed my arms and looked down again. “If you aren’t going to help me, then at least let me borrow one of Jaevid’s boots.”

  Phillip blinked a few more times, as though he were trying to process this. Then he sighed loudly and pushed the door the rest of the way open. “All right. A moment to put on my pants, please.”

  I blushed. I tried not to stare as he wandered back into his room—wearing only a pair of cotton underpants. Gods, had I ever seen him that way before? Even before the tail? It was … distracting, and too much. I couldn’t look away, so I turned my back and waited.

  When Phillip emerged again, he was wearing pants and carrying a short sword still dangling from its sheath and belt.

  “You’re bringing a blade?” I asked. “What about a candle? It’s dark in there.”

  He shrugged and flashed a wry grin. “Well, you said it was a big one. Might as well be prepared. And believe it or not, my eyes seem to work better in the dark now. At least, well enough to spot a spider.”

  “It is! Stop laughing, I mean it! You’ll see.”

  “So, the mighty warrior princess is afraid of spiders.” Phillip chuckled. “I’ve literally known you since birth, Jenna Farrow. How did I not know this about you?”

  “It’s not like I advertise it. Can you imagine what the others would say?” I frowned. “And it’s your fault, you know. Yours and Aubren’s. You used to put spiders in my shoes to scare me when I was little. It was awful.”

  His brow puckered, looking perplexed and surprised. “And that really bothered you this much?”

  “Of course, it did! I was five years old!”

  Phillip pursed his lips thoughtfully as we stopped in front of my door. “Well, then I suppose I owe you a spider-killing or two, don’t I?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just kill it, please.”

  “Okay. Stay here.”

  He disappeared into my bedroom, shutting the door behind him. The sounds of scuffling and commotion made me startle. I couldn’t decide if that was necessary or if he was just making fun of me. I backed away from the door, just in case. Minutes passed. When the door opened again, I felt my cheeks go cool as the color drained from my face.

  “Well, that was a big one, I’ll grant you that,” Phillip muttered as he emerged.

  “I knew it! Where is it? What did you do with the body?”

  He chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Relax. I tossed it out the window. It’s dead, I assure you.”

  Rubbing my arms, I leaned around him to peer back into my bedroom. “I don’t know if I can sleep in there now.”

  “Because of one spider?”

  “I hate spiders, Phillip! Hate them! Which is your fault, by the way. You don’t understand … ”

  He made a face. “Clearly.”

  Just the thought of it made me shudder. My skin still crawled like I could feel hairy legs tickling up my spine. “And where there’s one there’s always more. Skittering around. Making webs. Laying eggs. It’s absolute evil.”

  Phillip rubbed his chin. “Mmm, you’re right. They could be anywhere. Under the dresser. In the armoire. There might be a whole nest of them in your mattress.”

  I glared up at him in total mortification. “Why would you even say that?”

  “I suppose you could stay in my room.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “What?”

  “Well, I can’t guarantee a completely spider-free environment, but I promise to kill any that dare to come out of hiding.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’re teasing me.”

  He showed me a gentle, disarming smile. “Only a little.” Then he offered me one of his large hands. The glittering specks shone against the gray-to-black gradient on his forearm.

  “I-I don’t know if this is … I mean, I’m not ready for … ” My words got all tangled.

  “Oh relax, love. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll sleep on the floor.” He wiggled his fingers. “Come on.”

  I slid my hand into his. The instant our palms touched, my stomach fluttered, and I couldn’t bear to look up at him again. Why did touching him make me feel like that? Dizzy and self-conscious, like I couldn’t put an intelligent sentence together.

  Jaevid was oblivious, sound asleep in his own bed, as I crawled under Phillip’s blankets. They were still warm and smelled like him. I waited until his back was turned to steal a sniff or two of his pillow. Tail and claws aside, he still smelled good.

  True to his word, Phillip took a spare blanket and pillow out of the armoire and made himself a pallet on the floor next to the bed. It was hard not to feel guilty. The stone floor must have been cold and uncomfortable.

  I peered over the edge of the bed at him. “Are you sure you’re all right down there?”

  His mouth twitched into a smirk. “Is that an invitation?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “N-No! I meant, well, maybe you could sleep in my bed.”

  “Tossing me in there with all the spiders, eh?”

  “Never mind,” I grumbled.

  We lay in silence for a long time. I started to wonder if he’d fallen asleep. Then Phillip’s voice called softly up to me again. “Jenna?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry about the spiders in your shoes. You know, when you were little. I probably did a lot of stupid things like that, thinking it was all in fun.” He cleared his throat as though he were anxious. “I had no idea it made that much of a
difference to you.”

  Rolling over onto my side, I peeked over at him again. “It’s okay.”

  “You’re sure?” His bizarre silver eyes were watching me carefully. “It’s just that, you’ve always made such a point that I should never mistake you for anything but a dragonrider. I assumed a fear of, well, anything was out of the question.”

  “Being a dragonrider doesn’t mean I’m not human. You should see how Eirik is with cats.”

  “And here I thought it would be girls that had him running in terror,” he mused. “But I see your point. So … we’re all right, then? About the spiders?”

  I smiled. “Yes. But don’t be surprised if I try to get my revenge.”

  One of his cheeks turned up into a handsome half-grin as he closed his eyes and let out a deep, satisfied sigh. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “Don’t lock your knees. Keep moving. That’s it,” Haldor shouted, stepping wide around the area where Aedan and Calem were sparring.

  Once again, they had moved all the furniture in the main room to accommodate some combat practice. So far, they’d only knocked over one porcelain vase and a small statuette with their efforts. But that was the trouble with dragonriders. They tended to break things when they got bored. And we were now on our second day of being confined to the keep because of the storm. It had everyone restless.

  Not that we didn’t have enough to keep us busy in the meantime. With this much extra time at our disposal, the craftsmen in Cernheist had been able to come up with something decent in the way of armor for Aedan, Jaevid, and me. They’d even come up with a sort of reinforced leather breastplate for Phillip, although I could tell by the look on his face that the idea of wearing armor made him uncomfortable.

  There weren’t any official tackmasters living in Cernheist since there wasn’t much of a market there for dragonriders needing saddles. But we were able to track down one old leatherworker who agreed to try putting together a temporary saddle that Mavrik could wear. It wouldn’t be as fine as the ones the rest of us had, but Jaevid could get by without having to ride bareback.

  After receiving several reports of refugees suffering grievous wounds, Jaevid ventured out into the city again to try to heal some of the worst cases. Haldor and I had gone along, but it was exhausting and bone-numbing work, marching around in the frigid wind tracking down one patient after another. In the end, we were only able to find and treat four of them before we were forced to return to the keep again.

  Jaevid seemed deeply frustrated by that failure. He’d taken to sitting in a corner of the room, his brow locked into a pensive scowl as he stared down at the floor. The way his pale eyes flickered back and forth, it made me wonder what he was thinking. Or maybe he was seeking out the council of some spirit or god? With him, it was impossible to tell.

  The rest of us were still watching the sparring match, however.

  Haldor had all but taken Aedan under his wing and was teaching him more sophisticated techniques with a halberd—or for practice purposes, an old mop handle. “Don’t get timid,” he shouted again. “Use your reach—your reach!”

  Aedan flashed him a heated look and set his jaw. His expression sharpened, and so did his movements. He moved faster, feigning in and darting back while whirring the length of that mop handle at astounding speed. I’d never seen anyone use a halberd like that before.

  It worked. Calem wasn’t sure what to make of those techniques, especially when Aedan took to the air, springing through the air as agile as a deer. Calem was brutally fast with his dual scimitars and quickly threw up a parry. Aedan didn’t stop for a second. He instantly whirled into a follow-up strike and managed to knock Calem onto his heels. A leg-sweep put him flat on his back with Aedan crouched over him, staff poised for a killing strike.

  The fight was over.

  Until Calem flung his blades away and blurred through a floor-wrestling maneuver. He brought Aedan to the ground, wrenched the staff from his grip, and wound him into a crushing pin. He held Aedan there, letting him feel the power of his grip for a moment, before finally letting him go.

  “Nice try.” Eirik chuckled. “Calem’s been taking it easy on you. No one can beat him in the sparring circle.”

  Calem didn’t respond to the praise, not even to gloat over his victory. Getting to his feet, he brushed the dirt off his shirt and ran a hand through his platinum-colored hair. By the look on his face, you’d think he had just finished a stroll in the garden rather than a fierce sparring session.

  “Shut up, Eirik. He’s getting better.” Haldor offered a hand to haul Aedan up. “Not bad for a shepherd boy.”

  Aedan was rubbing the side of his neck where Calem had pinned him. “I used a staff in the fields some. Dah taught me to fight with it, you know, in case there were wolves. I never fought a man until the Tibrans—” He stopped short, his face flushing as he winced.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Eirik patted him gruffly on the back as he went past. “Dah—is that the elven word for ‘father’?”

  Aedan blushed harder and nodded. “Sorry, I forget sometimes. My parents didn’t speak the human language well, but they sent me to a tutor in the city. She taught me human customs and to read and write. But at home, I still used the gray elf language.”

  Phillip, who had been sitting quietly next to me on the sofa with his long legs tucked beneath him, suddenly perked up. His ears pricked forward, and he smiled, beginning to rattle off words in elven with startling speed.

  Even Aedan looked surprised at first. Then he smiled back—probably the biggest, happiest smile I’d seen from him so far—and laughed as he replied in the elven language.

  They went back and forth like that until Aedan seemed to notice how the rest of us were staring at them.

  “I didn’t know you spoke the gray elf tongue.” I gave Phillip a nudge.

  Phillip tipped his chin up with a proud grin. “Well, of course. I was brought up to be duke, after all. Many of my subjects were elves. It wouldn’t make much sense not to be able to talk to them, now would it? And besides, it was great fun to be able to curse at my father without him understanding it.”

  I playfully elbowed him again. “You didn’t!”

  “Oh, I most certainly did.”

  “I’m sure the esteemed Commander Derrick was thoroughly impressed by his son’s creativity.” There was a sarcastic edge to Haldor’s voice as he strode by with a grin.

  “Oh yes,” Phillip replied, mimicking his tone. “He demonstrated it all over my backside a few times.”

  “Wait—are you talking about Lieutenant Derrick? Sile Derrick?” Jaevid interrupted suddenly. He was sitting up straight in his chair, staring at Phillip with wide eyes. “Sile Derrick is your father?”

  “Was my father,” Phillip corrected. “He passed away not three years ago.”

  Jaevid’s expression dimmed, his jaw going slack as his eyes became distant. “Oh … I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “What’s to be sorry for? He lived a good life, thanks in part to you. After the war ended, King Felix made him the Academy Commander at Blybrig. He got to spend his days yelling at fledgling students, which I’m sure I don’t have to tell you he enjoyed thoroughly. He lived to be a cranky old man with a terrible pipe-smoking habit, father of four children, three of which he saw to adulthood, and two who made him a grandfather several times over.” Phillip’s tone softened. I caught him smiling in my direction. “We should all be so lucky.”

  “I guess you were born much later, after I … ” Jaevid’s brow creased, as though he weren’t sure how to finish that.

  Phillip just laughed. “Indeed. You were only around to see Beckah and Nora. Thea and I were born later. If I’m not mistaken, Nora is especially indebted to you. Without your aid, she and Mother both would have perished during the birth—or so the story goes. My father only told it about a hundred times.”

  Somehow, the look on Jaevid’s face didn’t make me think he w
as listening anymore. His demeanor had gone dark as he sat eerily still, staring down at the floor. His mouth was twisted into an uncomfortable frown, as though he’d tasted something bitter.

  “Is everything all right?” Phillip tipped his head to the side slightly. “Was it something I said?”

  Jaevid didn’t even look up. “No. It’s nothing. I’m just tired.” He got up hastily and started for the door, as though he meant to leave the North Wing altogether. “Please excuse me.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  Jaevid looked up in surprise as I entered the chamber where his magnificent blue dragon was curled up on a bed of clean hay. All our dragons were being housed here, kept sheltered from the wind and cold in a series of caverns beneath the keep that had likely once been entrances into the mines. More recently, they had been used for stabling horses, and the air still smelled of a rich mixture of animal musk, hay, and grain.

  Normally, housing our dragons together in one space would have been asking for trouble. They didn’t usually get along well in cramped quarters. But since one of them, Jaevid’s dragon, was the king drake—he kept the peace and they all seemed content to let him be in charge.

  At the sound of my voice, Phevos raised his head and chirped musically. He got up and stretched both his legs, then his wing arms one at a time, then came lumbering over to press his scaly snout against my chest. I scratched at his chin and behind his ears, making him purr as he sucked up the front of my long tunic with his curious sniffing—looking for any traces of more salmon I might have brought along.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.” Jaevid spoke quietly as he watched us. “Your dragon—he’s very fond of you.”

  “Is he? Well, that’s good to hear. It’s mutual,” I crooned as I rubbed Phevos’s horned snout. “Have they been feeding you enough? You’re my handsome, wonderful, strong boy, aren’t you? Perfect in every way.”