Alas, His Majesty wasn't ready to listen to the reason. His face had turned an alarming shade of red and his right eye had begun dangerously twitching when Mum interfered. It was that breach of etiquette that landed me a month of exile to the taheerts’ dungeons.
Every morning, the guards waited for me at the entrance of my rooms, and every evening they escorted me back from the lab, as if I was a dangerous criminal. I often tried to escape from them. After each such attempt, all failed of course, as I wasn't going to have the poor guys punished for the sake of my amusement, the guards got terribly upset and pleaded with me to stop the game. Finally, they began to toss a coin to decide who would get the sad duty of escorting me.
The first days of exile seemed funny, but the month of punishment included my birthday reception and ball, both of which had been canceled. I was sure my brothers would give me some presents anyway, but later, after the punishment was over.
I went willingly enough to the taheerts’ lab, though in the king's presence I tried to show how great my suffering was. Otherwise my ingenious parent could come up with something really unpleasant.
Mervin was still a junior master, though he was always chosen for the hardest and most important orders. The only reason for this unfairness was his mixed blood. Mervin was a genius in his field, even I could understand that. Father knew it even better.
It was the third week of my punishment, the eve of my birthday. I was walking down the stairs to the taheerts’ dungeons with the guards dragging along somewhere behind, when a familiar voice called for me. It was Kamilla Krij, the long-time girlfriend of Sedd. I wondered sometimes what they found in each other. It seemed they didn't match at all.: Where my third brother was cold and a bit cynical, Kamilla was gentle and sensitive. Although, when Sedd had set his eyes on her, did Kamilla have any choice?
"You will turn seventeen tomorrow," she said in a singsong voice. We had always been on civil terms, though our relationship never grew into a real friendship. Still, she wasn't one for formalities and used my given name whenever we were alone. I didn't mind.
"Seventeen, but you, lonely and lost, are going again to these hideous dungeons," the melodious voice of the woman filled with sympathy. I let the questionable definitions of both the dungeons and me slip by and nodded in agreement. Kamilla wasn't the first who had tried to show their sympathy for my punishment, while keeping it a secret from the king.
The reason for the courtiers' kindness could be explained easily. Kamir, the royal heir, had long taken it as his duty to punish anybody who in any way hurt or offended his beloved sister, and Kamir’s displeasure was never to be taken lightly.
I didn't abuse my influence, I was simply aware of the good-wishers’ motives.
Kamilla's sympathy, though, was believable. She might have really felt sorry for me since the people of Kriy were fearful of any underground places. My combat magic teacher had once explained that all of them had been born with that fear, a consequence of an old curse.
"You are fading in the darkness like a flower devoid of sunlight," Kamilla went on and, with a hidden shudder, I recalled her passion for making verses about tragic love. Fortunately, I was lucky that day and my fear of becoming the first audience for a new ballad wasn't justified. Kamilla paused, took a scarlet rose from her sleek black hair, and handed it to me. The thornless flower, created with magic, was beautiful.
"Adorn yourself, Riel, and your sadness will flow away," she promised, stepping back out of view. Following my training, I checked the present for any malicious intent and slid it behind my ear. Hopefully, Kamilla wouldn't feature me in some of her new ballads. Sedd's lover had a penchant for depicting her main protagonists as unjustly punished, unhappy and miserable; and I, being "lonely and lost in the ugly dungeons", seemed a perfect candidate.
Still, the close attention Mervin paid to me that day was worth the risk. He even asked me a question outside the field of artifact creation, which was a rare phenomenon.
"Have you got a new admirer, Princess?"
"I wish," I sighed. "No, it is a token of Kamilla Krij's sympathy." I touched the flower, feeling sudden regret that the giver wasn't actually a handsome and passionate youth.
"No man has ever given me flowers."
It was a stupid old tradition. Until a princess of the Great House of Shorall got married, no man, not even her betrothed, was allowed to present her with flowers. Even if I met someone bold enough to break the tradition, he would be lucky if Father sent him into exile and not to the executioner. The king believed in the ancient prophecy that claimed the man who brought the princess of Shorall a flower would be the one to bring the end to the Shorall's rule.
Mervin said nothing and just pointed at the frames left by apprentices.
That day, we didn't speak. I contemplated the future, fated to be molded by my parents' decision, and Mervin remained silent because he was never inclined toward idle chatter.
That night I woke up with a start and saw my bedroom filled with flowers: roses, orchids, and lilies. Nicely decorated, they lay on the floor around the bed, on the pillow, on the blanket.
My first reaction was fear that someone had broken through the wards. But the room stood empty and, anyway, it was Father, the mightiest sorcerer of our kingdom, who had put the wards around my chamber. I relaxed and smiled to myself. It was just a dream, weaving around me, not a gift from a secret admirer. I brushed the nearest petals gently then put my head on the pillow and closed my eyes, breathing in sweet scents.
Of course, when I woke up in the morning, no flowers were left in my chamber, not even a single petal. Not that I was surprised. Dreams couldn't leave traces in the real world.
Chapter 6.
Finally, the sobs stopped and tears dried out, leaving me lying there staring at the intricate patterns of the ceiling but not really seeing them.
Mervin had confessed his betrayal; he was the one guilty of my family's deaths, of my own imprisonment. I had to hate him. I was trying to hate him but couldn't. My sense of guilt told me that I should have tried harder. I should have been looking for a way to avenge my family, but my memory had a mind of its own, making me recall a very different event that had happened a month before the final battle.
*****
Seven months ago...
I rarely left the capital before I turned seventeen. My parents thought me too young to travel with only some ladies-in-waiting and guards, and my brothers were not considered responsible enough to take good care of me. The only exception was Kamir, but he had too many duties as a royal heir.
After I spilled wine on the Kadaries' Regent, the king called off all my birthday celebrations. However, several weeks later either he mellowed or I played the suffering child really well and made Father's conscience wake up. At any rate, instead of the canceled ball he offered me the choice of any other entertainment. I chose two weeks on the seashore.
Upon hearing that, Father murmured something unflattering about his own softheartedness, told all my brothers to accompany me and sent a hundred guards. As for Mum, she strongly advised half of the court to visit the seashore, so that her "little girl" wouldn't feel bored or lonely. As a result, I was the only one whose choice of vacation was voluntary.
When the grey mist of the Portal cleared, I saw the azure sea. The sea, and nothing but the sea. The Portal had opened above the water and I went down with a loud splash. My shoes sank momentarily, and I stayed on the surface only thanks to my puffy skirts. I wasn't scared at the time, only angry. Mostly at Renard, who had opened the Portal, and a bit at myself for trusting him. When would I grow smarter?
In front of me the clear horizon spread, where the blue and cloudless sky blended together with the blue and calm sea. The waves were small. Nothing dangerous, but water had never been my favorite Element.
Clumsily taking strokes, I turned around. The shore was about two miles away from me. I could see the golden beach shine in the sunlight. To the left of the shore I saw the claws of the
high mountain, at the foot of which stood the small castle of lord Menning where the Portal had been supposed to open.
I vowed to take vengeance on Renard in payment for his brotherly practical joke, vengeance for him to remember to the end of his days. But for that I needed to survive, to reach the shore.
I got rid of the outer layers of clothing, but couldn't do the same with the corset, as my maid had tied it with some clever knot behind my back.
Yes, water definitely wasn't my Element. The worst thing was that it didn't let me use magic. The constant moving of waves broke the concentration needed to call in the threads. In order to do that I had to stop moving. As soon as I stopped moving, I began sinking. Desperately flapping my arms, I got to the sea surface again, spitting out the bitter saltiness. Although all the tries to catch the threads were fruitless, I couldn't stop myself from repeating them, always hoping that this time I would surely succeed. I severely depleted my strength while the shore remained far away and seemingly unreachable.
Minutes passed by. The people at Menning's castle must have gathered that something had gone wrong, but no one thought to take a look for me so far out in the sea.
I couldn't say how long it took me to reach the shore, but I almost did it. A few more dozens strokes and I would be able to feel ground under my feet.
Then they came, half-transparent shadows in the blue water. First, I thought them the usual sea predators with triangle fins, the ones that stole fish from the nets and overturned the small fishing boats of commoners. From us, the nobles with a developed Gift, the beasts fled as soon as they sensed our magic aura.
But the shadows didn't show any intent of disappearing; moreover, they moved closer. Then one of them jumped out of the water in front of me.
I cried out in shock. I knew what they were.
A long time ago, somebody called them sea dragons. Funny, as they couldn't fly or breathe fire. Their appearance was that of snakes: long swift bodies, jaws with ugly sharp teeth, and no wings. Their silhouettes blinked oddly, sometimes bright and clear, other times almost transparent. Their bodies touched me, though the monsters hadn't yet used their teeth.
I naively hoped that they were just playing. They were, in their own manner. Their sleek bodies coiled around my arms and neck, eager to carry me back into the open sea. I cried for help and tried to catch the threads once more. The creatures' bodies at once lit with rainbow brightness and I felt a painful emptiness inside, as if somebody had started drinking the essence of my life.
Through the corner of my eye, I saw a bright flash. Still squirming in the beasts' grip, I managed to turn my head toward the beach. The Portal had blinked into existence and Kamir ran out of it. My eldest brother had nearly the same level of power as our father. I felt a strong flow of his magic move over me to the beasts.
His magic covered them with a misty cocoon – and disappeared, while their bodies grew bigger and started moving faster. Only then I did understand the meaning of their name. Like real dragons, these sea creatures weren't afraid of our magic. Like real dragons, they fed on it.
I twisted, looking back again. Kamir's expression was a mixture of anger, pain and terrible powerlessness. Meanwhile, a new Portal appeared behind him. I wasn't able to see who was coming from it, as one of the beasts, coiling around my left arm, lurched forward so fast I cried out in pain. Other sea dragons also sped up, as if trying to flee from something. Or somebody.
The bright sunny day turned into a grey one. The air grew darker while the beasts' bodies grew paler and paler, becoming almost transparent, and finally disappeared.
I had barely summoned the strength to keep myself afloat when a big wave came from the deep and carried me to the shore. I coughed up what seemed to be the entire wave, then managed to look at my rescuer. Father was nowhere to be seen, but two steps behind my brother stood Mervin. A dark cloud was slowly receding around the taheert, the tentacles of his magic mist still touching me.
A few seconds before I blacked out, my weakened brain managed to come up with an explanation: that misty cloud was the visible embodiment of the Dark magic or anti-magic, as it was also called. Such a Gift was the rarest and one of the most precious abilities our people could have. Each millennium only a handful were born with this talent. Mervin was incredibly lucky. Or unlucky, considering Kamir's grim expression as he stared at my savior.
*****
I had many things to think about during my imprisonment. I had tried to guess how the Lord Dragon entered our world. I had connected Mervin's note with my kidnapping, with the beginning of the last battle, and with my awakening in his castle. I had done all of that, but I still refused to believe it in my heart.
All these six months I had been waiting for Mervin to explain it all and clear the situation up. His explanations worsened everything. I had to hate him. I did want to hate him. I couldn't.
And I couldn't forgive him either.
Chapter 7.
Three days later, Mervin came in again, put a pile of books on the table and left - all without so much as a glance at my side.
Staying in the chamber alone was incredibly boring, by now I would have gladly read even a book about court etiquette, but taking the books meant accepting something from the traitor.
For long minutes, I tortured myself with indecision, trying to see the title of the top tome. Was it something about runes? Not able to bear it, I came closer. Mervin knew me too well. All the books were about the Ancient Runes, my favorite branch of magic.
We inherited the knowledge of runes from the race that had populated our world before, the people we called the Ancients. Nobody knew what had happened to them. Some speculated that they died out. Others believed they found another home in the Great Sphere of the Worlds. Anyway, they had disappeared from Terrine many centuries before the first el'Tuans came here.
The runes had been my favorites since early childhood. They excited me, charmed me, made me hear their sweet and haunting voices. Each and every one of them told me its meaning and place in the world, promised power and beauty. My teacher of the rune magic, the only one among all the tutors, had never had a reason to complain to my parents.
I took the first book and gasped in recognition. The royal library had kept only one incomplete copy of it, with hundreds of pages lost. I thought there was no full copy left in our world. We used simplified and weakened versions of the Ancient Runes, but this book held the drawings of the originals. I wondered how Mervin managed to find this rarity.
I turned page after page, sometimes stopping for a long while, imprinting the runes into my memory. There were hundreds of them, all new to me, and each and every one seemed unique and beautiful in its own way.
*****
Six and a half months ago...
It was a day, not marked by any anniversary or celebration. One of those rare days when Father didn't have any important things to do and decided to give a little bit of his time and attention to his most good-for-nothing child - me.
The king was in the little sitting room, quietly talking with Mum, when a servant let me in. The queen smiled at me gently and I stifled the sigh of relief: the reason for the invitation wasn't connected with the strange sickness that had befallen Renard.
I wasn't cruel, but recently Renard had been making me furious. As the saying went, sufferings of the body purified the soul and atoned for sins, and Renard desperately needed both. I had done him a favor and, as a real benefactor, wished to remain unknown.
Mother was looking at me benevolently and Father wore the same expression. Odd.
"My precious Riel," said the king solemnly, "from an awkward child you grew into a true beauty, and became a treasure of our land."
I swallowed hard. Father had never complemented anyone without ulterior motives. Never.
"The el'Tuan chosen by you will be the happiest man in the world," His Majesty continued. "But only the best one can have such an honor. Your mother and I have been thinking about that for a long time."
Father stood up, went to the chest of drawers and took out an intricate wooden box filled with little portraits.
"All the Noble Houses dream of alliance by marriage with the Great House of Shorall," the king said. "Look. Here are only the best, and you can choose any one from their number."
With a growing sense of uneasiness, I took the box. Royal marriages were usually arranged many years before the actual date. I was fortunate my parents gave me any choice at all. "But I am still little." My own voice seemed terribly thin and scared.
"Of course, Raisha." Mum hurriedly said, using my home nickname, and hugging me tightly. "Of course, you are still our little girl. You have a lot of time to think everything over. Many years. We are not in a hurry to give you away! You will meet all of these fine young men, and do so as many times as you wish. I'm sure you will choose wisely."
I thanked my parents for their kindness and wisdom and, feeling as if my knees wanted to double up under me, trudged to my rooms.
The best of the Noble Houses...
Questions raced through my mind. What would my future husband be like? What if I made a mistake and he turned out to be self-centered, conceited and cruel? Besides, I would have to give him an heir.
I imagined the process and everything coming before and felt pain in my once-broken tooth. Well, if my choice happened to be bad, I would have to try on a grey widow dress a couple of years after the wedding. Divorces were allowed, but Father would get terribly angry if I blemished the name of Shorall with such a scandal. No, if my choice turned out to be stupid, Kamir would have to help his beloved little sister solve the problem.
I left the box on the bedside table, which was why, I supposed, I dreamed about my wedding. I was to get married to an unknown prince, the heir to the king of some mysterious island. In the dream, I was aware that the islanders had a strange custom: the groom was to wear a rune-carved mask during the whole ceremony.
The Last of Her Line (The Shorall Chronicles Book 1) Page 3