The Dragon Prince

by Mary Gillgannon

  A shiver afflicted Eastra. She’d thought she wanted to learn some of Morguese’s magic, but now that it was actually going to happen, she was frightened. What sort of strange business was she getting involved in? What would Rhun think if he knew? Somehow, she did not think he would approve.

  “Most men abhor women of power,” Morguese said, as if reading Eastra’s thoughts. “Even my husband only tolerates my abilities. He sees me as a kind of weapon he can use against his enemies, but he must be careful the blade does not cut him, too.” She smiled faintly.

  Eastra felt a sudden panic. Morguese’s words alarmed her, and the small, crowded chamber seemed to grow close. She wanted to run away, to escape. But if she showed her fear, Morguese might be offended. And she needed Morguese’s help to free Rhun.

  “Don’t worry,” Morguese said. “You need only journey as far as you want to—for tonight, at least. Now, close your eyes. Nay, before you do that, take off your sandals and unloosen the girdle around your waist. It is best to be naked, but I doubt you are ready for that.”

  Eastra did as she was told. As she resumed her seat on the cushion, Morguese added, “Remove your earrings and necklace. Metal is a thing fashioned by men and does not please the Lady.”

  As she removed her earrings, the sense of unease built inside Eastra. Without jewelry she felt naked. Cerdic had taught her she must always wear some sort of ornament as a mark of her status. Even while posing as a slave, she had continued to wear the necklace Rhun had purchased for her in Londinium under her gown and small bronze earbobs in her ears. “I will take off the earrings, but I would rather not remove the necklace. It was a gift and is made of glass more than metal.”

  Morguese shook her head. “Glass is also made by men, a mimicry of the jewels that grow naturally in the depths of the Mother.”

  Reluctantly, Eastra removed the necklace. It was as if all the ties that bound her to the past had been severed. All she wore now was the gown Morguese had given her.

  “Aye, you must leave the past behind to go into the future.” Morguese smiled faintly. “Now, close your eyes. Place your hands on your knees and listen to your heartbeat.”

  Eastra obeyed.

  Morguese continued speaking, her voice low and vibrant. “Feel the blood pulsing through you, flowing along your veins. It is warm and full of life. Salty and sweet like the rivers and oceans of the Mother’s body. Feel how the blood warms your flesh and makes it alive. Feel your bones beneath the flesh. They are the last part of a babe to be formed, to grow hard and rigid. They will be the last part of you to decay into the earth, to turn to dust and return to the Mother.

  “Breathe. Feel the air enter your lungs and give you life. When a babe takes the first breath at birth, it cries in pain as its spirit enters its body. And someday your spirit will leave your body with one last sighing breath.”

  Eastra felt strange. Morguese’s voice seemed to reach inside her, making her aware of her body in a way she had never been before. It was startling and yet intriguing.

  “If you were a man,” Morguese continued, “that would be the end of the mystery. But you are woman, so there is more. Deep within your body is your womb. It grows and recedes in rhythm to the moon’s light. In the blood of your womb is power—that is why men abhor it. You have the ability to create life, a great gift. In that way, you are as powerful as the Goddess. But to make a babe, you must open yourself to a man, take his seed and nurture it inside you. Be careful how you choose, what man you lie with, for if you make a babe with him, the tie between you can never truly be severed.”

  Eastra thought of Rhun inside her, under the great oak, loving her. She was glad she had opened herself to him. She hoped Morguese’s words were true, that the bond she felt between them was forever. Except they had not conceived a babe—at least not that she knew. A shiver went through her at the thought a babe might be growing inside her.

  “Now, feel your breasts. Feel their heaviness. Feel them fill with milk to feed your babe. Pale, glistening milk, as magical as any of the Mother’s gifts.”

  Her breasts did feel heavy, swollen, the nipples distended and pricking against the smooth fabric of her gown. But that was impossible. Even if she were with child, it was too soon for there to be any signs. Not one full day had passed since Rhun and she had lain together. But there also seemed to be a weight in her belly, a kind of movement...

  Disturbed by the sensations she felt, Eastra opened her eyes.

  “Frightened?” Morguese asked.

  She nodded.

  “That means you were very close to ‘seeing.’ The trick is to get beyond the fear, to allow yourself to go where the Goddess leads.”

  “No,” Eastra said. Her vague unease had become a kind of dread.

  Morguese shrugged. “So you are not ready. It does not matter. The Goddess is patient. Many people ignore Her all their lives, and She still does not turn from them.” She rose gracefully.

  Eastra worried that despite her words, Morguese was angry. What if Morguese refused to help her?

  The queen went to the table and poured water on some herbs burning in a bowl. Their soothing scent was replaced by a damp, earthy smell. Eastra got to her feet. “Wait. Please.”

  Morguese cocked her head and looked at her, her green eyes opaque and unfathomable.

  “I came here because I thought... I thought you might help me.”

  “Help you?”

  Eastra nodded. “Somehow I must see that Prince Rhun is freed. It’s my fault he lost his temper and drew his knife.”

  “What else?”

  “Then... we must leave this place. What your husband is doing is wrong. He has no right to hold us prisoner!” Eastra grew bolder as her indignation caught fire. If Urien kept them here and his meddling caused the truce to be broken, there would be more bloodshed and suffering. “You said yourself he was trying to control things he should not, that you have seen what the future holds.”

  Morguese’s face was still unreadable. “So you believe I should go against my husband’s orders and set you free?”

  Eastra nodded. “You said your power was greater than his. If you do not fear him, then do what is right!”

  Morguese laughed. “What an innocent you are. Right and wrong are terms men have made up to justify their actions. What must be, will be. That is the Goddess’s way.”

  “You won’t help us?” Eastra felt the anger drain out of her. She felt tired and defeated.

  “I didn’t say that, only that it isn’t time yet. There is a purpose to your being here. Until I know what it is, I will not aid you in leaving.”

  Eastra released a sigh. At least there was some hope Morguese would help them escape eventually. Perhaps it was just as well to wait. She did not really have the energy to rescue Rhun and ride off this very night. A few days more should not matter. “Thank you,” she told Morguese. “If you will at least consider helping us, I would be most grateful.”

  Morguese smiled. “I hope you feel that way when the time comes. Things have a way of turning out much differently than we expect.”

  Eastra was too tired to argue. All at once she felt dead on her feet.

  “Nevyn,” Morguese spoke briskly. “Show Eastra where she will sleep. It’s not luxurious, but then, a slave can hardly complain.”

  Morguese obviously knew she was not a slave, Eastra mused as she followed Nevyn to a small adjoining chamber. So why she kept up the pretense?

  Nevyn indicated a straw-filled pallet on the floor, and Eastra sank down on the pallet gratefully. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and forget everything.

  * * *

  Rhun paced across the tiny chamber, then back again, the straw on the floor making a swishing sound against his boots.

  For all its smallness, his prison was reasonably furnished. There was a chamber pot in one corner, a faded blanket in the other. His host had even seen fit to provide him with a jar of water and a leather pouch full of bread and cheese. He would not starve nor
be too uncomfortable.

  But he might go mad from sheer aggravation, he thought as he paced. How could he have let Urien goad him into such outrageous behavior? He’d never before acted like such a rash, hot-tempered fool!

  It boggled his mind to think of it. All these years he’d prided himself on being able to keep his head, to deal with his opponents skillfully and cunningly. And now, when it was more important than ever, he’d made a complete dolt of himself.

  What would it have mattered if Urien had forced Eastra to dance? It would not have killed her, even if it did cause her embarrassment and upset. He had to put things into perspective. He was responsible for keeping their hostage physically safe, not protecting her from every distress imaginable.

  But the fact was, he wanted to protect Eastra from everything. Lock her away in a safe, comfortable chamber and make certain she never suffered or wanted for a thing the rest of her life. He wanted to make it all up to her, the degradation of being a slave, the loss of her family, every hurt that had ever been inflicted on her.

  But he could not. Nor should he try.

  He sighed heavily. Somehow, he had to overcome his obsession with Eastra and concentrate on escaping. Once he was out of Caer Louarn, he must find Arthur and tell him what had happened, warn him that Urien, and perhaps other chieftains, were working against him.

  But Eastra—how could he leave her? He had to. She would be safe enough. If Urien had intended to harm her, he would have done so already. Besides, if Bridei remained behind, he could protect her. Despite his doubts about his brother, Rhun did not believe Bridei would allow anything too terrible happen to their hostage.

  Rhun sighed again and paced back across the chamber.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, Eastra followed Morguese and Nevyn everywhere, assisting the younger woman when necessary, but mostly watching as Morguese ordered the day-to-day activities of the fortress—overseeing food preparation and storage, the weaving, dying, and sewing of cloth, the cleaning and refurbishing of the hall. Morguese also took Eastra and Nevyn into the forest several times, ostensibly for the purpose of gathering herbs. Morguese pointed out numerous plants and explained some of their uses, and they filled their gathering baskets heaping full. But Eastra sensed Morguese had another purpose in leaving the fortress. She seemed to be searching for something. Her manner was quiet and contemplative, absorbed in her own thoughts.

  Eastra tried to talk to Nevyn, but the other woman kept her distance, her pale eyes giving away nothing. Finally, Eastra gave up wondering what Morguese was up to. It was clear if she wished for the Rheged queen’s help, she would have to be patient.

  Eastra often saw Bridei around the fortress. He appeared to be enjoying himself, playing draughts with the other warriors during the day, strumming on his harp and drinking with them in the evenings. He even went out on a hunting expedition with Urien’s men and returned flushed and jubilant over the great stag they’d killed.

  On the fourth night they were there, she caught Bridei on his way to the privy and asked him if he had thought of a plan for their escape. He shrugged and said he hadn’t come up with anything yet, but he was still thinking on it.

  Eastra returned to the hall, seething with frustration. It seemed they would remain Urien’s prisoners until the end of the sun season. She worried about what was happening in the world outside the dense forests of Rheged, whether the truce had held or if Cerdic and Arthur had resumed fighting. She wondered if anyone guessed they were being held prisoner. Or if anyone cared.

  That night she was called upon to serve while the warriors feasted on fresh venison. She did her duty, but her mind was elsewhere. Only when she saw Morguese near the entrance of the hall, motioning to her, did she snap to alertness. When she reached Morguese, the queen made a movement to indicate Eastra should follow her and be quick about it.

  They went out, leaving the noisy, drunken atmosphere of the hall. A bright full moon lit the yard of the fortress. Morguese led her into a shadowed place behind a building and said “Would you like to see your lover? If you are quick and quiet, there is time for you to be alone before any of the men notice.”

  This time Eastra did not protest that Rhun was not her lover, but nodded rapidly.

  “Come,” Morguese said.

  Eastra had not known where Rhun was being held. She was startled when Morguese led her to the outer edge of the fortress and indicated a passageway leading into the ground. “He’s down there. I’ll stay outside and keep watch.”

  As Eastra studied the narrow opening. Morguese said, “This is not the time for escape. Although you could free him from his prison, you’ll never get him out the gate. Urien is no fool. When the mead flows freely, he makes certain only his most trusted men stand guard. Enjoy your time together, and know when the moon is dark again, your lover will have a chance to seek his freedom.”

  With these words, Morguese gave Eastra a gentle shove toward the opening. Struggling against the dread that choked her throat, Eastra eased herself into the passageway, where there were stairs leading downward. She followed them to the bottom where there was a door. Leaning near, she called softly, “Rhun. Rhun, are you there?”

  “Eastra?” His voice whispered out of the darkness and curled around her body, igniting a fierce ache of longing.

  “Aye,” she answered. She fumbled with the leather latch on the door, her fingers nerveless and clumsy.

  And then she was inside. She wished she had brought a torch. There was a kind of air hole above the chamber that let in a sliver of moonlight, but she could barely see him. “Oh, Rhun.” She reached out for him, seeking his familiar warmth, his smell. His body felt big and solid and wonderfully comforting. They clutched each other like drowning souls dragged from the violent surf.

  “Eastra, Eastra, you smell wonderful. Like sunshine and flowers. Like my dreams.” Gently, he removed her arms from around his neck and took a step back. “How did you get here? Is there anyone standing guard outside?”

  “I’m afraid so. Bridei bribed one of the men to let me see you, but there’s no chance of escape.” Somehow she knew she dare not tell him that Morguese was the one standing guard. If he knew there was only an unarmed woman between himself and freedom, she feared he would make a dash for the gate.

  “Damn!” He released his breath in a sigh. Eastra felt a stab of guilt. What if Morguese was wrong? What if there was a chance they could get away? After all, most of the men were in the hall, drunk on mead and sluggish from gorging themselves on venison.

  “I have to get out of here,” Rhun muttered. “I have to go to Arthur and warn him.”

  A twinge of irritation rose up inside her. All he could think about was escaping. What about her? Was he not pleased to see her? “I’m trying to find a way out of here,” she said. “But it is difficult. The fortress is well guarded.”

  “Of course it is. Oh, Eastra, my dear sweet Eastra.” His mood had shifted again. He held her close and nuzzled her hair. Breathlessly, she realized she must find a way to keep his attention. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  He met the kiss with hungry eagerness. As she felt his arms tighten around her, she let herself go limp. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, her belly against his groin. She opened her mouth, yielding to him, letting him know she was his to do with as he wished. His tongue was in her mouth, tentative at first; then, when she accepted him, caressing and exploring. His hands moved down to cup her buttocks. He held her tighter and she felt his shaft, hard and demanding, straining against his trousers. She squirmed, partly on fire from his kisses, partly in a calculated attempt to arouse him further.

  He gave another groan and pulled away. She waited, panting. There was a battle raging inside him. Which would win? Duty? Or desire?

  “Oh, Eastra, I should not, but I cannot help myself.” His voice was ravaged.

  “Rhun, please. I want this. I want you.”

  He made a harsh, almost animal-like sound, th
en once more crushed her against him. Dragging up her skirts, he found bare skin. Stroking, kneading. She clutched him tightly, barely able to stand. Then he found the aching apex of her thighs, and she let his callused exquisitely-tender fingers support her weight. Tremors of fierce pleasure raked her body. She moaned. Ah, to have him touch her like this... sublime... perfect.

  But there was more. To be joined. To feel his shaft stroke her womb as his fingers were stroking the swollen, wet opening between her thighs. He was kissing her neck now, driving her wild. “Please, Rhun,” she murmured.

  He released her, and she thought she would go mad with impatience. But then she saw he was arranging a blanket on the straw, directly beneath the hole in the ceiling that let in the small sliver of moonlight. Boldly, she pulled her gunna over her head and slipped off her sandals. She wanted to be naked with him.

  She lay down on the blanket. “By the Light,” he whispered. “You are so beautiful.”

  She reached up to him, urging him near. Some sort of madness had entered her. All she could think of was being joined with him, flesh to flesh, with nothing in between. She heard him removing his own clothing. Then he was kneeling over her, kissing her neck, her breasts. She arched her back, offering herself. She wanted everything, every pleasure he could give her.

  The roughness of his unshaven jaw rasped against her skin, contrasting with the smooth warmth of his lips and the fluttering softness of his long hair. Her nipples tightened and throbbed, and the deep inner center of her pulsed with urgency. Then his hands moved down her hips. He grasped her thighs and she felt him opening her, spreading her. The air was cool against her heated flesh. His mouth touched her, warm and wet, glorious pressure against her helpless need. His lips and tongue and teeth played upon her, striking sparks inside her. Fierce desire whirled and caught flame, raging in violent splendor.

  Colors and light. She was caught in a wild spiral. And then, gasping, she floated back to earth.