by Emma Hamm
“Ah, ah, ah.” Zander waved a finger in the air. “Don’t try me, Abraxas. You have gotten far too confident, I think. Every move you believe is orchestrated by yourself! Or perhaps you think that I am a lesser king than my father. Is that what it is?”
Yes.
He thought Zander was so much less than his father. The previous king had brought countless magical creatures to their knees. He’d trapped a dragon and then he’d razed Umbra to ash and dust just because an uprising had begun. That was a man to fear.
Zander gestured with his fingers, two unfurling and his thumb wide, and a chest rose out of the gold. The large metal box was the only treasure that Abraxas didn’t control. He couldn’t summon it out of the depths, no matter how many times he’d tried.
Every muscle in his body tensed. He stared at the jewels encrusted on the side. Ruby, emerald, and sapphire. Three colors that made his entire soul scream in pain.
The King watched him with a fanatic gaze. “There it is. The fear I wanted to see from you. You know exactly what this box is, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“I’ve only seen it twice myself, you know. Father always talked about it, and he made sure I knew how to summon it should you ever step out of line.” He smoothed his hands over the top, lovingly stroking the chest as though it meant everything to him. “Just a peek. Shall we?”
No. Abraxas didn’t want this foolish man to look inside that box. He didn’t want Zander to see what was hidden inside the only thing that mattered to Abraxas.
The King was the only person who could open the chest. The spell had been woven by a magician long dead, and only the King could flip those two latches and reveal the contents within. The treasure that haunted Abraxas every morning and every night.
Zander pulled the lid open and sighed. “Would you look at that? They really are more beautiful than my father had described. I see now why they mean so much to you.”
Abraxas didn’t have to look. He knew what was nestled safely inside that chest. Three perfect eggs, each one crystalized like the gems on the outside of the chest. Three perfect symbols of hope that someday he wouldn’t be alone anymore.
They were the last dragon eggs in the realm. Long before the King had caught him, he had searched for their existence. The last sister of his kind had passed in the mountains of the far west. Her dying words were of the last hope that another female dragon had told her about.
Unfortunately, the human king got to them before Abraxas. And then he’d placed a curse on the chest that only a king of Umbra could open the box. All others would be killed, magic lashing out at them and tearing into their very being if they tried to open it.
Abraxas still had the scars from when he’d tried to open it himself.
“It’s rather sad,” Zander murmured. “These are your only hope of ever seeing another creature like yourself. Isn’t that right? The last chance for anyone to see another dragon after you’re gone.”
“Be careful with them,” he snarled.
“Oh. With this?” The King reached into the box and picked up the ruby egg. It glimmered in the torchlight.
Abraxas could barely think. The King was touching the egg, and no one should be allowed to do that. But also it was so beautiful. The egg would hatch to become the same kind of dragon that he was. Rubies were rare, and they were always fiery. Their flames burned hotter than any other, but their loyalty was something to be admired.
“Don’t touch what isn’t yours, little king.”
“Or what?” Zander palmed the egg and shut the chest. “You’ll burn me to a crisp? Abraxas, I need you to listen to me right now because what I’m going to say is very important. And I’m going to hold on to this egg so that you take me very seriously. Do you hear me?”
He ground his teeth, gnashing them at the King. “I’m listening.”
“I am the most powerful king you have ever seen. The most powerful king Umbra has ever had before. And if you don’t believe that, then no one else will.” Zander’s eyes widened as if the words terrified him. “You are the great dragon of Umbra. The shadow of the king. You have to believe it. Do you understand?”
Abraxas lied. “I do. You are more powerful and greater than your father or any king before. I would know, because I was there.”
“Good.” Zander nodded, reaching a hand behind him and scratching his back. “That’s good. I’m glad you understand. I wish it didn’t have to come to this. You know I don’t enjoy threatening you.”
“That is because you are a just king as well.” He swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to scream at the King to put the egg down.
Zander didn’t put the egg down. Instead, he lifted it into the light and the faint outline of a draconic body could be seen through the clear layer of gem. “I wish I believed you. But someday soon, you will see that I am all that you lied about.”
With a swift movement, Zander pulled a knife from behind his back and plunged it into the egg.
A shriek echoed through the cavern, so loud and piercing that Abraxas opened his mouth in a silent roar. It was the soul of a dragon. The soul of an innocent who had never seen the light of day. And he could do nothing to stop this horrible monster from taking that life.
The sound died down. He finally opened his eyes, peering through the splitting pain in his head. The tiny dragon in the egg twitched, its tail wiggling one last time, and then all the light died out.
“A shame,” Zander said. He dropped the egg and the knife onto the ground, releasing the spell so the chest sank back into the gold. “I didn’t want to do that, my friend. You see, I need you to be on your best behavior when all these brides and their fathers arrive. I need you to remember who I really am.”
As the King left, Abraxas knew exactly who Zander really was.
A monster.
He should have known. He should have predicted that this child would take what wasn’t his. But, as he coiled himself around the deflating egg to mourn his loss, he reminded himself of one thing.
There were still two more eggs.
Chapter 5
Lore
“So you see, he is the best person for the job.” Goliath grabbed her arm and jerked her to a halt in front of a house that was far, far too nice.
Lore didn’t even know houses existed like this in Tenebrous. She was used to ragged homes. Ones that were falling down around the edges and that desperately needed someone to put another board over that hole in the roof. Not... this.
The white marble of the house still gleamed in the sunlight. The walls were built to be sturdy and had ten columns holding up a giant roof. Ivy tangled around the silvery columns and spread out onto a yard that might have grass underneath the ivy, but she couldn’t be sure. The swells of greenery were hard to peer underneath.
She frowned at the bright red door and glanced around them at all the other houses that were in complete and utter ruin. “Did he build a portal or something? There’s no way this man lives here. Right?”
“Oh, he does.” Goliath patted her back and shoved her forward. “I can’t go in with you, though. He’s very private.”
“Then why would he want me in his house? He could have met me at mine.” Lorelei glanced over her shoulder at the retreating dwarf. “Why do you look like you’re running away?”
“Because he is.”
She sighed, preparing herself for whatever stood behind her. Considering the look on Goliath’s face, she could only assume the creature who was supposed to make her irresistible to the King was also one to fear.
Lore turned and looked at the man who stood in front of the red door. His silhouette was strangely stretched, like he was a shadow late in the day.
He stepped into the sunlight, revealing lank brown hair that hung in his face. Moss grew on his shoulders and broad chest, and a butterfly sunned its wings on his right shoulder. His fingers were aged with bark, and his pinky finger grew a small dual leafed plant. Dark eyes stared back at her with no whi
tes at all to tame the wild nature of his soul.
“Leshy,” she breathed, trying hard not to look him in the eyes. “I thought your kind was long gone.”
“I could say the same about you, elf.” His voice was ragged, like stones grinding against each other. “And yet, here you are. Still standing even though the King has done his best to remove your kind from the light.”
She felt something in her soul spark. A shifting of silver and moonlight that glimmered to the surface of her skin. “I prefer the darkness.”
“Ah, a Silverfell. How rare.” He shook his head. “I should be surprised, but your tribe always had a talent for trouble. Come inside, child. You’re here for a reason and that’s not to darken my doorstep. The neighbors will talk.”
And then he walked back into his house as though the neighbors weren’t already talking about the man made of trees and the glowing elf in his yard.
She’d been right originally. This entire plan was going to get them all killed, and now she had a leshy’s death on her shoulders. Probably the last of his kind, although she knew very little about them.
Still, the least she could do was be respectful.
Lore followed him into his house, tripping over the threshold into a room that looked like the depths of the forest. Thick moss covered the floor and squished beneath her feet. Sunlight speared through the windows and the open ceiling, catching on tiny golden dust motes that danced before her eyes. The walls had been hand painted so realistically she could almost sense the ancient trees of old. A single actual tree grew in the center of his home. Butterflies in every color swayed around the branches.
A trickle of warmth trailed down her cheek. Confused, she touched a finger to the liquid, only to realize she’d started crying.
“Don’t look so surprised,” the leshy grumbled. “You might have forgotten about the forest, but your soul hasn’t. This is our home, little elf. Or was. Before the fires.”
Flashing red lights danced beneath her eyes every time she blinked. Like she remembered that fire, though she hadn’t lived through it.
“I don’t... That is, I don’t think...” Did she remember?
“Keep struggling like that, and you’ll hurt yourself.” He chuckled, then tapped a gnarled hand on his chest. “My name is Borovoi. Margaret said she had a plan and sent you to deliver the message.”
“She didn’t even tell you herself?” Of course not. If Lore was the one to tell this creature, then it sounded like it was all her idea. “She wants to send me to the King’s bridal games. If I’m tempting enough, it’s her opinion that I will get close enough to kill the man.”
“Ah.” He nodded, then turned his attention to the tree. “And you are so mad that you agreed to this plan?”
“I am not. She threatened to turn me into the Umbral Knights for...” No, she wasn’t going to admit to anything. The fewer people who knew about her little side business, the better. “Doesn’t matter. She threatened, and that was enough.”
“She does have a way about her.” Borovoi took the butterfly off his shoulder and held it up to the branches of the tree. The tiny thing didn’t fly, or apparently couldn’t. It crawled onto the nearest branch and waved its wings again. “You will have to be very careful if you are to tempt a king.”
“I can’t look like a magical creature, that’s for sure.” Lore touched her ears, making sure they were hidden. “If he gets even a whiff of magic, then I’m done for.”
“Are you so sure of that?”
“Yes. Everyone says the King hates our kind. I think he’s proven that, considering we’re hunted like animals.” She still didn’t want to know what the Umbral Knights would do if they found either her or the leshy. The fact that this man waved what he was around and lived like this? It was dangerous.
“The King doesn’t hate our kind. He envies us. He wants to become like us, and that’s why he’s killed so many. It’s frustration, little elf. Not hatred.” Borovoi returned his attention to her, and those black eyes saw too much. “You want to get his attention? Hint at what you might be. Leave little clues but never give any admission. Let him assume what you are.”
“You’re asking me to risk giving myself up?” She shook her head. “Now I know you’re mad.”
“Not mad. I know the King better than most.” A slash of sunlight caught in his hair. Tiny caterpillars stretched their bodies on every strand, giving him a faintly fluffy appearance. “He comes to visit me when he wants to see magic. Tame magic, you see, not wild like we once were.”
Her heart squeezed in her chest. Tame magic? What did that even mean?
“It means he wants to see us as less than him. Magic he can control or advise where it goes. That’s what he wants. A pet. Entertainment. But never something dangerous.” Borovoi gestured for her to follow him. “Come here. Let me show you something.”
He shambled behind the tree, but she was tired of all this. He might be one of the most ancient creatures she’d ever met, but that didn’t mean he could waste her time.
“Look, Margaret said you would prepare me for the King. Whatever that means. If you aren’t capable of doing that, then I can find someone else to help.” She hoped, at least. It wasn’t like she had anyone else guiding her on what the King might want.
“And you should be a little more grateful to the only person who’s willing to help you. Get over here, elf.”
“Lorelei,” she grumbled as she trudged after him. “My name is Lorelei.”
The other side of the tree was much the same as the rest of the room. The only difference was a small table he’d set up with all manner of magical objects. Skulls, crystals, bones, and shards of glass decorated the top.
Borovoi looked rather pleased with himself. He pointed to a deer skull on the table and said, “Well, then, Lorelei, what do you think that is?”
“A skull.”
“Indeed. And where do you think it came from?”
“Probably outside somewhere. Or a forest.” She shrugged. “There aren’t a lot of deer around here. They don’t like the dragon visiting as often as he does.”
A skull was a skull. Why did he want her to see it so badly?
“Pick it up,” he said. “Then tell me if you believe the same.”
She sighed, but did as he said. “I don’t have time for these ridiculous games, Borovoi. I don’t even know when the King is going to have his first bridal... whatever he’s calling it. But if I miss that, then the plan really doesn’t work.”
The moment she touched the skull, visions flashed in front of her eyes. She saw a woman laying on the ground. Seven arrows pierced through her chest, and her eyes stared blankly up at the sky. Blood soaked the ground around her. A keening sound could be heard, like twin voices calling out for their mother only to be silenced with a quick slice through wind.
A stag walked over to the woman, lowering itself down onto its front legs. It lay beside her and a faint breeze ruffled her hair. Pointed ears were revealed in the setting sun. The dying light that burst into flames until she realized it wasn’t the sky at all.
Fire consumed the land. Rolling toward the woman and the deer like a wave that could not be avoided. It poured over the ground, lava coiling toward them until it devoured the elf and the deer.
Lore flinched, raising her arm over her eyes and half expecting to feel the heat on her own body. But the light died down and when she looked again, all that remained was a skull in her hands.
“What was that?” she hissed.
“A small portion of your history, little girl. Those memories live inside you. Why do you think you cried when you walked in here?” Borovoi pointed to the tree behind them. “That is the last great being from an age when you and I would have lived free. An age your soul remembers, even if your mind refuses to believe it happened.”
She touched her fingers to her soaked cheeks again. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Because Margaret said you weren’t entirely convinced this was necessar
y. You don’t care that the King wants to destroy more, or that he wants to unleash that hellish beast upon us again.” Borovoi strode forward so quickly she didn’t see him move.
His outstretched hand grasped her skull, squeezing her forehead too tight. And then she saw it.
Memories. Visions. Whatever anyone wanted to call them. Flashes of the past that she hadn’t remembered.
She saw a dryad woman in a black dress, hugging her own arms as her horns caught fire. A fairy laughed and danced in the flames as her wings disintegrated in bright embers. A dwarf staggered by her, clutching a bundle of coals in her arms.
“Enough,” she sobbed, wrenching herself out of his grip. “Enough. I don’t want to see it.”
“You have to see it.” Borovoi lurched forward. He tried to catch her even as she rushed away from him. “You have to see all that they have done so you can understand how important this is. You have to do this, Lorelei. For all of our sakes.”
“I’m afraid,” she choked. The sound of her own fear made her freeze.
She’d promised herself that she would never feel so afraid. Her mother had shown how little that emotion helped. Hands shaking, Lore pressed them to her cheeks and exhaled. Long, low, counting to ten as she pulled herself back together.
Once her armor was back in place, she met Borovoi’s dark gaze head on. “I will do this because I will die if I don’t. No other reason. You cannot change my mind.”
His haunted eyes darkened, and she swore she saw smoke in those orbs. “When you have seen what Margaret and I have seen, it’s hard to hold that armor up any longer. We are laid bare by our memories, Silverfell. I hope you can keep that shield up for as long as possible.”
Every breath was drawn ragged and roughly into her lungs. She fought with every ounce of her soul not to cry.
What had that bundle of coals been?
“I am only doing this to save myself,” she muttered. But she couldn’t look him in the eye any longer. “Whatever happened in the past? I’m sorry for it. Those aren’t my memories and I hate that you went through that. The best I can offer is that the King will die by my hand if I can get close enough. I think that’s where you come in.”