by R. K. Ryals
“Escreet,” I whispered. The Goddess of the Scribes.
She moved closer, but remained out of my reach. The tears that poured from my eyes still came, but they’d turned inky black, staining my cheeks.
“Daughter,” she repeated. “You will be tested soon. Do not shun us,” she warned. “Do not turn away from your gods. The Prince of Sadeemia has taken on new gods. He has done so to protect his kingdom. You must never do the same.”
She meant Cadeyrn and the ceremony he’d undergone to accept the gods of Henderonia before his marriage to Catriona. It had allowed him to marry both the princess of Henderonia and the princess of Greemallia. Why did that matter now? Why had the gods come to me?
“He did not disown his gods,” I defended. “He simply took on more.” He’d done it because I’d suggested it.
The black eyes watched me. Their emptiness and the knowledge I knew they held disconcerted me.
“The gods of Medeisia are jealous gods, Drastona,” she raged. “We have suffered much at the hands of madness, mad kings, and dragon power. You bring worlds together, but you must never let those worlds tear us asunder. Your power comes from us.”
“Even if it means protecting Medeisia?” I asked.
“Especially if it means protecting Medeisia!” Silveet suddenly roared. “You are the daughter of more than one god, including a foreign one. We acknowledge that, and we admire the god and goddess of Sadeemia, but you must not accept others. We are a dying country, Drastona. If the Sadeemians rule us, if they strip the people of their gods, we will cease to exist. You must be an envoy of the gods.”
Fear crept up my spine. They were right. If Cadeyrn and his brother remained in power and Medeisia failed to seat a ruler, then we’d be expected to take on the Sadeemian gods. If the Medeisian people elected to keep one of Hedron’s heirs in power, then I suspected Arien would have temples built here, temples for the God of Unrest and the Goddess of Serenity. I didn’t know what kind of king Arien was. Our late monarch had murdered his son. He couldn’t possibly feel gracious toward the Medeisians.
I stared at the goddesses. “Are you asking me to turn against the Sadeemians?”
They stepped forward, closing me in. The mist hugged me tighter, and the black tears choked me.
“There is change coming, little one. Great change. These forests and ruins are old and sacred. Medeisia is a land of power and gods. If we lose that, then the people lose their power,” Silveet intoned.
Escreet’s head rose. “The scribes of Medeisia were esteemed until the time of Raemon. We ruled behind the king. This country has begun fading in its ignorance. Keep the history alive, girl. Keep it alive, and with it, our traditions.”
A great gust of wind whipped my hair into a frenzy. The black sky fell toward me, crashing down over my head, blinding me.
I woke on a scream, my body soaked, a mist rising off of me. Leaning over the side of the bed in my small chamber, I vomited. From my mouth, black refuse poured, the black ink I regurgitated pooling on the floor. I was being consumed.
Lochlen had asked me to represent the dragons on the Medeisian council. The goddesses of Medeisia had ordered me to represent them. Gods and dragons.
My fist found my stomach, and I curled into a ball. I’d been a part of overthrowing a king only to be asked not to accept our temporary ruler. Medeisia was a country of gods and dragons. It was the country that bore Sadeemia. It gave birth to our twin country because of King Hedron’s power hungry twins. We’d done this to ourselves, and to fix it I was being asked to fight the people who had helped us.
Leaning over, I vomited again. More ink, more fear.
Climbing free of the bed, I stumbled to the wash basin, stripping my mist soaked clothes and rinsing my body. Ink washed off of me, and I was grateful that it didn’t mark me. Maybe the gods understood that I was tired of marks.
There was a standing mirror near a Henderonian armoire in the corner of the room, and I moved to it. Outside, dawn arrived, replacing silver moonlight with touches of gray light. My nude body stared back at me, my growing hair wild around my face.
Turning, I caught a glimpse of the Falcon tattoo on my back, the one that reminded me I fought for two countries. I could fight for two countries, but I was expected to accept only one.
“When the forest speaks, you listen,” the trees called.
A window sat opposite the mirror. I kept it open because I enjoyed the night air, enjoyed the humming trees and baying wolves. I was the forest, and the forest was me.
“Talk to the prince. There needs to be a Medeisian ruler on our throne, one who accepts our powers, our gods, and the dragons.”
I straightened, my spine rigid. “I am to be everyone’s voice but my own.”
A kek,kek filtered down from the skies.
“You are to be a little bird,” the trees said.
A shadow passed over me in the growing light, rushing wings sending a blast of air over my body.
“A magnificent survivor,” a voice said.
Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes met the beady eyes of a falcon. Ari.
“It was he that called me that,” I whispered.
Ari’s head cocked. “Then prove him right.”
“By turning against him?” I asked.
Her wings fluttered. “By serving your people. Our war isn’t over. King Raemon started it, but now we must fight to maintain what we could lose if we’re overtaken.” She flew up, away from the window. “Kye died for freedom. They all did. Don’t lose sight of what we are fighting for. Not just for freedom from Raemon, but freedom from all oppression. We did not fight for Medeisia to lose Medeisia. Five months have passed and Cadeyrn is still in power. The forest is afraid. The dragons are afraid.”
“He’s a good man,” I argued, “and a great king.”
It was pointless. The falcon was gone.
“He’s a great king who can’t be a king of Medeisia, little one,” the trees said. “He is destined to rule another country, another people. That leaves Arien, and he cannot be trusted.”
My spirit heavy, I turned away from the mirror and opened the armoire. Donning a tunic and trousers made of dragon skin, I grabbed a brown scribe’s cloak and pulled it around my shoulders.
I sought audience with a king. Not as a friend, but as a diplomat. Cadeyrn, the future king of Henderonia now that his marriage with Gabriella was annulled, fought the threat of New Hope. I fought for my people, and my gods didn’t want Cadeyrn’s brother in power. He may not rule Medeisia yet, but the forest was right to fear it. Cadeyrn couldn’t remain forever, and when he left, what would become of Medeisia?
Chapter 3
The scribe school wasn’t far from the palace, the building residing just on the outer banks of the moat nestled against the forest. Morning light slanted over me as I walked, the dew saturated air hanging heavy over my head. It curled the hair around my face and kissed my cheeks, reminding me in stark detail of the dream I’d just had.
The trees beyond the school rustled, and a silver figure darted out of the foliage, droplets of water flying as a wolf slid next to me, his body shaking to dislodge the moisture from his fur.
“You look distressed,” Oran noted, his sharp eyes trained on my face.
I glanced at him. “You came because the forest asked you to, didn’t you?” I asked.
He shook himself again, his fur bristling. “No, I came because I know what they are asking of you, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy.”
Startled, I paused. Chirping birds danced, their song moving the sun into a higher position in the sky, as if they sung to wake up the world. The dawn fell over us in a soft pastel yellow, hints of sparkling light glinting off of dew splashed trees and grass, like diamonds placed inside a bowl of freshly churned butter.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
My hand fell to the wolf’s fur, and we walked together. Guards dressed in the scarlet Medeisian tunic, the wolf and crossed swords staring down at us, marched along
the rampart. The outfits used to scare me, but these Medeisian men didn’t work for Raemon.
Booted feet sounded on the watch tower near the draw bridge.
“Ho, Scribe!” the guards called.
Lifting my hand, I nodded my head in the customary Medeisian greeting. “A good morning to you. I’ve come to seek an audience with the king.”
No questions were asked. I was often at the palace, a trusted official who’d only just moved to the new scribe school last month. Before then, I’d lived in the castle, a guest of Cadeyrn’s.
The draw bridge lowered, the creaking sound loud in the still morning. The palace received a lot of damage during our attack on Raemon, but five months had done a lot to change that. New stone and freshly cut wood covered places once ripped away, turning the building into a patchwork quilt, a fortress of stories.
The courtyard greeted me. It, too, had changed. It had been a chaotic place full of mud, stamping horses, and rushing geese. The horses remained, but the geese and the mud were gone replaced by landscaped gardens and stone walkways. Prince Cadeyrn was nothing if not proficient.
“I miss the geese,” Oran grumbled.
“Only because you dream of eating them,” I remarked.
The wolf’s tongue swept out, and I fought the chuckle that worked its way up my throat. Today was not the kind of day for laughter.
The interior of the palace hadn’t changed much. It was still a dark, gloomy place, even with the new lamps that hung throughout, the lamp oil from Sadeemia keeping them lit. My boots thudded against the stone, stopping just short of a sitting room Cadeyrn had turned into an office. The prince was reluctant to use Raemon’s old study and had transformed this room into his private sanctuary.
My fisted hand rose, but before I could knock, the door swung open. It was that way with Cadeyrn, as if he knew when I stood on the other side of an entrance.
My hand dropped, my gaze rising to the prince’s face. His loose, untucked tunic hung open in the front to reveal the silver pendant he wore around his neck. Thick mahogany hair framed his features.
Vivid blue eyes met mine. “You’re up early, Aean Brirg.”
His hand slid up the door, his arm rising, and I ducked beneath it.
“I could say the same for you,” I replied.
Leaving the door, the prince moved to a sparsely covered desk flanked by a bookshelf and a wall of maps. Cadeyrn’s palm fell to the desk’s surface, his free hand falling to the sword strapped to his waist, his thumb rubbing the hilt. No words fell from his lips, his cool gaze finding me. He waited.
Oran lingered next to me, and my fingers sought his fur.
“I’ve had a dream,” I breathed.
Cadeyrn’s expression remained impassive. “And you’ve come to tell me about it?”
Stepping forward, I closed the distance between us. “The Goddess of Scribes and the Goddess of the Forest came to me, Cadeyrn.” He’d given me permission to use his given name months before, and I took advantage of it. “They warned me against Sadeemian rule.”
The prince froze, his eyes narrowing. “My rule?”
My gaze fell away from his. “Your brother’s.”
We were close, too close, and his hand found my face, lifting it. Since the day we’d kissed on the ramparts, we’d rarely been alone, and when we were, we’d maintained a respectful distance. His sudden, familiar touch sent a jolt of fire from my face to my toes.
“It was a dream,” the prince murmured.
My gaze searched his. “Medeisia belongs to Sadeemia by right of war, to the Sadeemian heirs by right of blood. We’ve overthrown Raemon, and now we’re left to the heirs of Hedron. You and your brother. We trust you, Your Majesty, but your brother is a different matter. When you depart and join your wife, where will that leave this country?”
“Cadeyrn,” the prince corrected. “In private, I’m Cadeyrn.” His head bent. “Are these your worries, Aean Brirg? Worries manifested in dreams?”
My face flushed, and I stepped back from him, his hand falling away from me. “I know the difference between a dream and a meeting with gods.”
He studied me. “Politically your country will be free and left under the rule of a just king. Did you imagine something different? Under Arien’s rule, you will be allowed to live the way you should have lived. You’ll be allowed to practice scribery and magery. You even have a place on the king’s council.”
“But is that enough?” I asked. “Will Arien try to change our ways? Will he attempt to force Sadeemian ceremony and religion on Medeisia?”
“Would it matter if he did?” Cadeyrn inquired in turn. “Sadeemia would be taking Medeisia under its influence, giving it a peaceful rule and prosperity. It is the spoils of war, Aean Brirg. Is allowing change here that much of a sacrifice for peace?”
“It is when the gods have asked me to stop it,” I replied.
Cadeyrn stiffened, his gaze roaming my figure. “Play your hand, Stone.”
Oran pushed up against my palm, and I clutched him for support. “I’ve been asked to be an envoy of the gods and a consort of the prince of dragons. I’ve been asked to speak for all of them.”
“Lochlen came to you.” The prince’s shoulders fell. “And you agreed?”
He knew?
My feet moved forward hesitantly. “I agreed. To both.”
“Stone,” Cadeyrn exhaled. He leaned against his desk, his muscles bunching as he clenched the wood. “Do you know what you’re doing?” He glanced at me. “You can’t mix religion with politics. It’s a deadly game.”
“You did,” I countered. “To take a Henderonian and Greemallian bride, you converted to a foreign faith.”
“For a treaty!” Cadeyrn argued. “To make alliances. It’s politics. All of it. Accepting new gods meant peace for my country. You’re talking about denying gods in favor of rebellion.”
Silence stretched. “We need a Medeisian king,” I said finally. “With a Medeisian in power, we wouldn’t lose our gods or our traditions.”
Cadeyrn frowned. “They mean so much?”
“You ask me that as a soldier and a king,” I replied, approaching him. “Now ask me that as a man.”
Cadeyrn’s knuckles turned white against the wood, and although I expected to hear the desk crack, it didn’t. The prince held back.
“By doing this, you’re not just turning your back on Sadeemian rule, you’re turning your back on the protection I could give you as a Sadeemian prince.”
“I know,” I whispered. “You’ve protected me enough. There are others in your life who could use it more.”
He glanced back at me, his eyes dark. “Gods and dragons, Aean Brirg. Are they worth it?”
I stared. “What do you think, Your Majesty?”
During times of need, I’d relied on gods and dragons. Silveet, Escreet, and Lochlen had all saved my life. They expected the same in return, and I couldn’t refuse them. As a king, Cadeyrn may not understand, but as a man I knew he did. I knew it by the look in his eyes. Loyalty came at a price.
“Even the prince owes the forest,” Oran said abruptly.
I glanced down at the wolf.
“What does he say?” the prince asked.
My gaze met his. “That we all owe the forest much.”
Cadeyrn’s jaw clenched, his hands straining against the wood. He left impressions in the surface, and I found myself wondering how much of his life was spent holding back. His strength was as pricey as loyalty.
Oran was wrong. The forest, the dragons, and the rebels had risked our lives to warn the prince about the threat to his country from Medeisia, but Cadeyrn had repaid that. He’d repaid it in his blood, in his willingness to stand up against his father for a band of insurgents.
Cadeyrn’s eyes fell to Oran. “You know the forest, wolf, but you’re sadly lacking in human politics.”
It was the first time the prince had ever spoken directly to any of the wild creatures surrounding me, and I gazed at him in awe. Even Ky
e, who’d lived amidst the trees, had never spoken directly to the foliage or the animals. Only to the dragons. A new respect for the prince blossomed in my heart. He may not be able to understand Oran, but he spoke to him.
The wolf seemed to feel the same, his haunches meeting the study floor, his piercing gaze on the prince. “You’re right, prince. It’s why we fear the humans.”
I repeated Oran’s words.
“I’ll do everything in my power to protect what you stand for,” Cadeyrn replied, his eyes remaining on the wolf’s, “but I can’t make any promises. I’m the second prince to a powerful monarch. I wasn’t born to rule Sadeemia or the countries it annexes. I was born to make sure it remained powerful and undefeated. I was born to use as a pawn for alliances. I know my place. I respect my family.”
“We wouldn’t respect you as much as we do if you didn’t respect your place and your family,” Oran stated. “You make a great ruler, Your Highness. All we ask is that you don’t stand in our way.”
Oran’s words fell from my mouth and Cadeyrn nodded at the wolf, his gaze returning to mine. “Pray your gods are strong, Aean Brirg. Pray your dragons are stronger. Humans destroy too much.” Releasing the desk, he stepped away from it. “A delegation from Sadeemia arrives today. It includes my wife, your brother, Gryphon, and a handful of scribes and mages who agreed to risk the journey. The Medeisian council will be called to convene.” He started to approach me and then thought better of it. “There are no more war moments, Aean Brirg. Everything you do now will be based on the faith you have in your people.”
Ignoring the warning bells in my heart and head, I closed the distance between us, my hand finding his open tunic, my fingers splaying over the intricate tattoo on his chest. His pendant fell over my hand. The tattoo was the tragic story of the Sadeemian gods. The pendant was a powerful reminder of love and family. They made up who Cadeyrn was.
“Don’t forget who I am, Cadeyrn,” I begged him. “As we traverse this path, don’t forget that I’m not fighting for a nation so much as a small minority; Gods, dragons, nature, and knowledge. People have forgotten them. Don’t let that get lost in the bigger picture.”