City in Ruins

by R. K. Ryals

  “You’ll see it soon,” Lochlen’s voice promised from behind us.

  I stiffened, my eyes flying to the dragon’s face. He was in his human guise, his yellow-green gaze searching my features.

  “How are you doing this morning?” Lochlen asked, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

  “Fine, thank you.”

  His eyes dropped to my stomach, and I turned away from him. Maeve glanced between us, her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t speak. Dragons had unpredictable moods, and no one wanted to set one off.

  Lochlen sidled next to me, his shoulder brushing mine. “I’m proud of you, little one.”

  Startled, I glanced his way, watching the way the wind touched his face, pulling his red hair across his cheeks.

  He nudged me. “You’ve sacrificed a lot for your people and for mine. I’ll always be grateful.” He eyed me. “I vow to protect you,” his gaze dropped to my midsection, “and those who belong to you until your mortal death.”

  My heart soared, and I nudged him back. “You know too much, Lochlen.” My head shook. “It’s eerie how you always seem to know so much.”

  He winked. “There are spies everywhere.”

  I thought of the sea, of the way I’d stumbled to the prince’s cabin the night before. There were always creatures aboard a ship, rodents living alongside humans. As a dragon, Lochlen had always had the ability to understand nature as well as me.

  My face heated.

  Lochlen chuckled. “I never take more information than I need.” He peered down at me. “How do you fare?” His second question was softer, genuine concern riding just beneath the words.

  Leaning into him, I whispered, “My heart hurts.”

  Lochlen’s arm rose, the weight of it settling across my shoulders. “You are a great mortal,” he told me. “Know this: dragons revere their females. We know their importance, what they mean for our survival. Our females are fiercer than the males.”

  In his way, Lochlen was telling me I was brave. But I didn’t feel so brave. Mostly, I just felt scared.

  “Get ready to take her in!” his voice shouted.

  My face stayed forward, letting the sound of his command wrap me in its embrace.

  Chapter 18

  The Isle of Marr was everything Reenah promised and more. The water below the ship was as smooth and translucent as glass, the sandy beaches as white as snow. Strange-looking trees with wide leaves and brown fruit lined the sand. These trees spoke to me, but they sounded different somehow from the trees back home.

  “Welcome, little one!” they called.

  I almost waved at them, stopping just short of screaming a greeting in return.

  “It’s beautiful,” Maeve gasped.

  Colors surrounded us, most of them bright and blinding. Olive-skinned natives approached us, their friendly wide eyes surveying us. The weapon on my back felt heavy and ridiculous faced with the affable islanders.

  “Are there no forests?” Oran asked.

  I repeated his question aloud.

  “They’re further inland,” Daegan said, joining us. “One of the sailors told me the island was formed by a volcano, and that it’s still occasionally active. The further you walk inland, the steeper the island becomes with forests and waterfalls lining the side of the volcano.”

  “One of the sailors told you, huh?” Maeve grumbled.

  Daegan grinned, nudging her. “Oh, ho! Do I hear a wee bit of jealousy in your tone?” Maeve punched the side of his arm, and he winked at her. “I’ll make it a point to visit you when we return to the ship now that I know I’ve been missed so much.”

  Maeve groaned.

  “This place feels funny,” Oran complained. “It smells and tastes funny, too.”

  My gaze fell to his. “What do you mean?”

  His black eyes peered up at me. “Too many smiles.”

  My gaze searched the beach. Wooden stands were set up along the sands, each one promising a different ware; fruits, sweetmeats, pottery, beaded jewelry, turquoise, seashells, and more. Children ran along the surf, their laughter filling the air, mingling with the sound of yelling merchants and snorting livestock.

  “I’ve always loved the Isle of Marr,” Princess Catriona sighed as she joined us on the gangplank. Her herrnos stared at the island, their hands resting on their curved swords.

  The Beatrice’s sailors filed off of the ship, some of them with supply lists and others with naught more than a good time on their minds, prepared to spend an eventful, relaxing night on the island.

  “Watch your pockets,” SeeVan warned, his eyes on the exiting crew. “Marr is known for its pickpockets, most of ‘em children. Sneaky little bastards they are.”

  “Hungry more like it,” a sailor murmured as he brushed past.

  My gaze followed them.

  Pausing next to his Quartermaster, his gaze on the village before us, Prince Cadeyrn added, “Be aware. There are nasty side businesses on this island. Mercenaries, slave runners, and pirating. It’s best if the women travel in groups should you go ashore.”

  Catriona snorted. “I’m bloody hell not staying on the ship.”

  “Cat!” Gryphon admonished as he sauntered toward us, his gaze skirting mine before finding the princess. “You’ll be safe with your herrnos, and most slaver traders and pirates aren’t looking for pregnant women.”

  “No, but there are enemies who’d be interested in royal ransom. Stay with your herrnos, Catriona,” the prince warned, his eyes sharp.

  Disregarding them all, the princess loped down the gangplank, her guards rushing after her.

  Cadeyrn threw Gryphon a look, “Watch her,” he ordered.

  Gryphon’s head bowed, his eyes glinting as he followed in her wake. I didn’t miss the gleam in my brother’s eyes, and I was pretty sure Cadeyrn didn’t either.

  “Come,” Deagan told Maeve, pulling on her arm. “I’ve got you covered, and you could use some time on land.”

  After a bit of grumbling, and a glance in my direction, she followed Daegan into the village.

  “Ye’re a might bit touched in the head letting that comrade of yours follow your wife,” SeeVan balked, his gaze on Cadeyrn.

  Oran, Reenah, Lochlen, SeeVan, Cadeyrn and I were the only ones left on the ship.

  Cadeyrn’s hand fell to his sword, his fingers brushing the hilt. “I never expected loyalty from Catriona, V. You know that. She and Gryphon already share a history. If he keeps her safe, and they’re careful with their dalliance, then I won’t forbid it. The only thing I promised Henderonia was an heir.”

  His words cut deep, and I inhaled, my eyes wandering the shore.

  Stepping next to me, Reenah clutched my arm. “If you’re willing to be seen with a fellow consort, bring that dragon and wolf of yours, and we’ll explore.” She winked.

  I fingered the bow on my back, my senses alert.

  “There’s no danger,” the trees called.

  My brows furrowed, my gaze shooting to Lochlen. “I’m not sure I trust the trees here. There’s something off about them.”

  SeeVan’s eyes widened. “The trees?”

  Reenah waved her hand. “It’s a thing they have going.”

  I was becoming as paranoid as Cadeyrn, but last night had been a chance for me to help my kingdom, the memory as embedded in my heart as it was full of hope, and I didn’t want to chance anything. I’d made a choice, and I didn’t regret it.

  Cadeyrn’s shadow fell over us, his gaze on the top of my head, his hand resting against my shoulder. His touch sent a jolt of fire through me, sparks of warmth pooling in my midsection.

  “What do you sense?” he asked.

  My breath caught, my pulse racing, but I forced the feelings away.

  “I’m not sure it’s the island,” I said finally. “Something just feels off.” I’d had a similar feeling the night of the betrothal ball in Sadeemia when the wyvers had attacked the palace.

  SeeVan cleared his throat. “We’ve got a meeting with that Gadden me
rchant fella, Cap’n.”

  Cadeyrn nodded, releasing me, his gaze swinging to the dragon. A look passed between them. “I expect the women to return to the ship by nightfall,” the prince ordered. “As for the crew, they have free rein until morning.”

  With that, they departed. My gaze followed them as they walked the gangplank. Cadeyrn’s shoulders were back, his eyes surveying the crowd. He was a proud man, a good ruler with a good heart and a firm knowledge of politics and battle. He’d lost much, but he’d also won his position and the respect I saw in his men’s eyes. It didn’t matter that to the monarchies of the Nine Kingdoms, Cadeyrn was something of a human stud horse, his blood lines and power craved by many. To his men, he was a warrior. He’d bled with them, he’d fought with them, and he’d lost as much in the wars he’d fought as the men he stood next to on the field.

  My war, Medeisia’s war, was one of many he’d taken on for his country and for the countries he called ally. My respect for him stemmed from the fact that he’d chosen to fight with us, that he’d not laughed at me when I’d stood to lead a people I had no royal power to control. He’d simply opened his door, listened, and then given my people hope. While he was in a position to fight many wars, I fought only one. In the end, with Kye gone, the fight for the control of Medeisia was turning into a fight by the people for the people, royal blood or no.

  “Come!” Reenah insisted, her eyes bright with excitement.

  She hurried down the gangplank, her slippers making little sound on the wood. I followed more slowly, my eyes searching the crowd the same way Cadeyrn’s had, Lochlen at my back and Oran at my feet.

  People milled around us, closing us in, the floral scent of exotic flowers and the heavy scent of foreign food mixing with the smell of unwashed bodies and heavily perfumed women.

  Reenah held up a piece of yellow fruit, silver coins clinking as she paid for the slice. Her eyes glowed.

  “Try it!” she insisted. “It’s Golden Marrsfruit and native to the island.”

  Tearing off a piece, she popped it into her mouth before handing me the remainder. Heavy syrup coated my fingers, and I took a hesitant bite. Sweet liquid coated the inside of my mouth, the tangy, saccharine flavor exploding across my tongue. After weeks eating hard biscuits, preserved meats, and odd soups, the honeyed taste was even more vivid.

  “Right?” Reenah asked, watching my face.

  Licking my fingers, I smiled.

  She laughed. “You should see yourself,” she said.

  Across the beach, music played, a man strumming a piece of wood strung with strings. Women in colorful skirts danced around him, clapping their hands in unison on every third twirl, their singing voices rising and falling. I watched them.

  Reenah studied me. “Have you never heard the sound of a guitar before?”

  I shrugged. “Other than the music in Sadeemia during the betrothal festivities, no. During Raemon’s rule, there was no music in Medeisia.”

  Reenah frowned. “You have no guilds? Nowhere for people to study music or art.”

  My eyes were sad when I glanced at her. “No, but one day we will.”

  Travelers on the beach had gotten caught up in the music. Women and children squealed as the native performers drew them into the frolicking dance. Shaggy dogs ducked among the crowd, families wedged themselves into the shop-ridden sandy avenue, and seagulls dove along the shore looking for abandoned food.

  “It’s all … so much,” I said for lack of a better word.

  Reenah grinned. “It’s what the world looks like, Stone.”

  For a moment, I was a child again hiding in the gardens at Forticry watching my stepmother have tea with the wives of foreign dignitaries, listening to them talk about silk, parties, and cakes. They’d discussed dancing, romance, and scandal, and I’d hung on every word. I’d dreamed of adventure.

  Until now.

  Suddenly, I was seeing the world, and I realized that as big, beautiful, and mighty as it was, it was nothing compared to the heart, to the love I had for the forests back home, to the dreams I had for the people I grew up among, their ignorance blinding them from music, words, and art. I realized I enjoyed the small moments more. Moments standing in a silver-bathed woodland under a full moon, the trees whispering to me. Moments next to crackling fires watching rebel children chasing fireflies until their eyes grew too heavy to keep running. Moments floating inside a hot spring-fed bathing pool inside a dragon’s cavern. Moments lounging among Archives, the smell of books and dust heavy in the nose.

  “It’s all so loud,” Oran pointed out.

  The wolf pushed against my leg, his size and unusual appearance drawing attention from people surrounding us.

  “Is that a wolf?” a little girl asked upon passing.

  Her mother glanced at us, her eyes widening as she pulled her daughter away. “No, just a dog, I’m sure,” the mother had answered, throwing several parting glares over her shoulder as they were swallowed up by the crowd.

  Reenah led us through the streets, finding different stands of food for us to try along the way until our bellies were full, and we’d begun to relax.

  “I had cousins who lived within this mountain,” Lochlen revealed, his yellow-green gaze on the paths leading away from the beach. “That line of dragons has long since died out.”

  I touched his arm. “How many lines are left?”

  He frowned. “Two besides the dragons in Medeisia. Some hide in the mountains of Guarda, others near the swamps of Dearn.”

  “Guarda?” Reenah asked, surprised. “You’d never know they were there. I’ve heard nothing in Guarda that suggests the presence of dragons.”

  Lochlen’s brow cocked. “The Guarda dragons are a reclusive lot. It’s best you never find them.”

  We’d come to the beach, the sun having moved over the island until it hung high, beating down on the crowd below.

  It was then, as we were staring at the glassy ocean, that I heard the trees.

  “They come,” they hissed.

  Despite my distrust of the foreign foliage, I glanced up at the frond-like plants lining the sands. “Who?” I asked.

  Lochlen’s head snapped up, his lips pulled back to reveal his human teeth. The hair on the back of Oran’s back stood on end.

  “The princess,” the trees answered. “You must find the princess!”

  “Catriona,” I hissed. “Where is she?”

  Reenah watched us, her eyes wide.

  The trees continued to whisper the same warning over and over again, as if they’d decided they’d told me all I needed to know.

  “The princess is in good hands,” Reenah protested. “Her guards are ruthless, and Gryphon would never let anyone near her.”

  “Not if he could help it,” I said. “We need to find them.”

  Oran jumped into the crowd, ignoring the bystanders’ protests as he shoved his nose to the ground.

  “Come!” he called. “We’ll have to pick up their scent.”

  I followed, my gaze tracking his movements.

  Lochlen and Reenah stayed close behind.

  “I’ve got it!” Oran howled. He broke into a run, and we broke into a run behind him.

  Weaving through people, trees, shops, and colorful foliage, Oran loped onto a sloping path. Shadows fell over us, limbs of frond-like trees hanging over our heads. It shut out the crowds.

  My hand went to the arrows on my back, and I drew one free. Bringing my bow forward, I strung it.

  “Maybe we should go for help,” Reenah said, her voice shaking.

  “And risk the trail going cold?” Oran asked, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.

  Ahead of us, voices trickled down the path, angry yells followed by soft cries and satisfied laughter.

  Oran growled, and Lochlen stiffened.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Lochlen glanced at me. “That, little one, is the sound of a scorned mad woman.”

  Dread filled my heart, turning the blood in
my veins to ice.

  Chapter 19

  The first thing I noticed as we crept toward the rising voices was the blood. There was a trail of it leading from the path we’d entered to a clearing flanked on one side by trees and the other by a flowing creek. The sound of rushing water mingled with the sounds of grief, anger, and fear.

  “Why are you doing this?” Catriona’s terrified voice asked.

  There was a loud slap. Flesh connected with flesh. Agonized screams rose above the trees, the sound startling large exotic birds with brilliantly colored plumage.

  “Please don’t do this!” Catriona begged.

  The screams that followed dug their way into my soul, the sound like nothing I’d ever heard. There are cries in battle and in death that stick with you, shrieks and bellows that will forever haunt your dreams. Each of them are different. None are ever the same.

  This scream marked me, my heart a pool of pain.

  Shoving our way forcefully to the edge of the clearing, we froze. My weapon was pulled, Lochlen was prepped to transform, and Oran was baring his teeth, but none of it mattered. Compared to the horror before us, none of it mattered.

  There, in a forest clearing on the Isle of Marr, Gabriella of Greemallia stood, her face a mask of gleeful rage, her long, black hair falling over a loose blouse and tiered skirt. She was surrounded by mercenaries, the men cruel-looking warriors with no crest. They were cloaked in black, their loose tunics hanging over leather breeches. They were laughing, their fists holding fat purses full of clanking coins and jugs of ale.

  “Damn the wench!” one of the men cried. The rest cackled in response.

  On the ground, near the line of trees, my brother sat slumped, his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back. By the swelling knot on his head and the gashes on his person, he’d given them a good fight. His chest rose and fell, his cheek pressed against the soil. Next to him were two brutally mutilated guards, their bald heads and tattooed cheeks clearly visible in the sunlight. Catriona’s herrnos. They’d been decapitated, their heads on display on either side of my brother. And yet, despite the blood-filled grass, the headless bodies, and lifeless eyes staring at us, it was the sight of the Henderonian princess that made me gag. She was tied to the forest floor, a blooming red stain over her swollen belly.