“Now, what I want from you, my lady…” Krath smiled at her, a wry grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The prize for winning that game.”
Dulcea could not breathe right. Her body burned at the way he looked at her, and her heart fluttered in her breast. She could only stare. She would do anything for him! He took her by the shoulders, pulled her closer, and brushed her long silver white hair back from her neck.
“I will have that kiss I couldn’t have earlier.” His cool breath ghosted across her skin. “You will remember this; it will still excite you years from now, and afterward you cannot claim I didn’t warn you.”
Dulcea shivered as he tilted her chin upwards. This was the most thrilling moment of her life. She had never desired a kiss so badly as she did now. Her breath came out in shallow gasps.
He did not kiss her lips, however. He leaned down and placed tantalizing kisses on her exposed throat. Her heart both sank and soared. The touch of his cold lips felt delicious against her heated skin. She sighed, feeling forlorn as he withdrew. She hoped he would kiss her again.
“And now, my lady…” Krath caressed her face, looking down at her with dark eyes. “My beautiful little prisoner… it really is time for you to go back to your room.”
Chapter 8
A Daring Plan
The dream left her one tendril after another, releasing her back into consciousness. Dulcea opened her eyes, her gaze heavy with sleep. She stared at the canopy above her head, unable to recollect for a moment where she was. Dulcea blinked, the dream fading from her body. She gasped.
There were fresh roses in the room again. This time they were not on the table in a vase; instead he had strewn them all around her on the bed. She was lying on top of the covers, still wearing the previous day’s dress and shoes. Her movements were sluggish, and head felt heavy and cloudy, as though she had been down with a fever and had only just recovered. Dulcea struggled to sit upright. The tight midriff of the turquoise silk dress had dug into her sides in her sleep, and she winced as it chafed her skin.
Dulcea kicked off her shoes and rubbed her sore feet. Her keen gaze lingered on the black roses covering her bed. Their placement was deliberate. The roses were still fresh, with crisp, velvety petals. Thorns gleamed on the waxy stems like a row of menacing teeth.
Dulcea looked around herself in the room. By the dim, orange light streaming in through the windows, she supposed the sun was setting. Again. She recalled his form towering over her on the bed, telling her to sleep, and sleep she had for a night and a day. How was that even possible? Dulcea stretched her limbs before rubbing the back of her neck. Her body screamed in protest, her muscles stiff from the unnaturalness of her long rest.
Memories pierced the haze that clouded her mind. She blushed with mortification and clutched her hands to her chest in a moment of terror. Dulcea looked down at her body. Had he…? No. He gave his word, and she believed him. Her clothing seemed untouched, and asides the constrictions of the dress and the shoes she did not feel sore. Everything was fine. Well, nothing was, but it could have been worse.
Krath had displayed what immense power he possessed, turning her into his willing puppet. She bit her lip. Dulcea remembered in vivid detail her blind adoration for him; how she almost swooned when he kissed her. Her head throbbed with pain, her mind with indignation. His actions were inexcusable.
He had treated her with contemptuous superiority, like she did not matter at all. Dulcea bristled. Was this his true character? And to add insult to injury, the vampire had brought roses to her room and arranged them around her sleeping figure just because it had amused him to do so. Dulcea saw past his handsome countenance now. There was nothing courteous about the gesture. He did it to taunt her, just because he took some twisted pleasure in subtle forms of terror. Dulcea swept the flowers away with an angry hand and slid to her feet. Nausea swelled in the pit of her stomach.
She strode to her vanity and grasped the little silver bell on it, ringing it with fierce anger. The door opened and Mey stepped inside, bobbing a curtsy.
Dulcea gave her a cold, hard stare. “Take me downstairs. I wish to bathe.”
She wondered if the girl would run, given the chance to be herself for one moment, or if Krath’s power kept her so content she would rather remain ignorant.
Mey took her to the baths. Dulcea stripped her clothes and waded into a warm pool. She sat down and hugged her knees, listening to the slow drip of water from the ceiling as it hit the damp stone or the surface of the pool. Her mind churned with questions. She had experienced both the good and the bad of life in the tumult of five years of war, and she had imagined herself a seasoned leader. Dulcea knew no longer how many times she had faced mortal danger or been cold, hungry, and hunted. She thought she knew what fear was and how to master it.
The problem was, she had never been a prisoner before. The Saruseans were one thing: they were her enemy, and they wanted to destroy her. Their goal was straightforward, and it was easy enough to get over it. The fright was fading from her bones—she could no longer muster any hate for what almost happened at the temple at Serpent Rocks. Neros and his priests had only acted their part as servants of Asherac. They did not torment her because they found it amusing, but because their faith decreed it so.
Krath was different. Nothing in her experience had prepared her to play guest to a vampire. He did not appear to want anything specific from her; he would turn her inside out just because he felt like it. Dulcea shuddered. He might kill her tomorrow, or he might keep her here for a decade, locked in that accursed room, only bringing her out for a talk or a game.
Dulcea gritted her teeth. She wanted to think her distaste justified, but she could not claim him to be wholly without honor. He could have turned her into his slave from the start. Krath never would have needed to reason with her, coerce her, or intimidate her; he could have just given her one good look, and she would have followed him anywhere.
She let out a low groan, hitting the water with her hand. Dulcea was embarrassed to think of the ease with which she had submitted to everything he said. No amount of fighting would have gotten her far, but at least it would have salvaged some of her self-respect.
In a fit of desperate energy, Dulcea picked up a bar of soap and began to scrub herself. She knew she could not wash away the tainted feeling of having had him invade her mind, but she had to try. The memory of his lips on her throat burned her.
Dulcea sighed. No matter how distasteful, she had to admit it had been a fair game. Krath had not lied. He had set a trap, tempting her to walk right into it. Dulcea’s cheeks flamed. What a fool she was! She had acted without consideration. She had fancied she could befriend him, but all he saw was an opportunity to take advantage of her.
Dulcea paused and put the soap away. No, that was not fair. Krath was not incongruous or deceitful. He had explained the rules to her and held up his end of the bargain. She had owed him that… that kiss or whatever it was. She could forgive him for that, but she would never forget being forced to enjoy it. The memory of his kisses would have been easier to bear had she remained her own resentful self for their duration. Then it would have simply been a distasteful task to go through, and Dulcea had honor enough to keep her word even if it meant embracing a vampire. She fisted her hands. He had wronged her, and now for the rest of her life, she would always carry with her the knowledge that no kiss might ever thrill her like that again.
She sighed and rubbed her temples. Why was this so confusing? Was what happened last night right or wrong? Was Krath trying to make himself a friend or an enemy? He had been so polite at first—why turn so strange now? Had it all been a mere act to get her to drop her guard?
One thing was for certain: she could not trust him to keep treating her with dignity. The roses were a proof of that. Dulcea blanched. He could do whatever to her, and she would love it if he so ordered. She did not care anymore that he had plucked her out of a desperate situation. It was no excuse to treat he
r like this.
---
Miranma, wilderness camp. Little Spring Moon (spring season 7091).
The fourth year of the Rebellion.
Distant lights flickered in the horizon. An endless sea of sand, stone, and grass tufts stretched out before her. The camp was never silent, but in this faraway corner she could imagine privacy and peace were still attainable. Dulcea sat under a lone tree, her Golden Staff of the Suns on the ground by her side. A huge golden dragon lay curled up next to her. Amparo Darksun. Dulcea’s heart swelled with pride. His mane was dirty-white, thick, and windswept, and his scales the color of fiery gold. The dragon’s green eyes were closed, but Dulcea knew he was not sleeping. She folded her hands and pressed them to her chest, a wide grin lifting the corners of her mouth. Her body hummed with contentment.
Amparo pricked up his ears and raised his head in curiosity.
You are smiling. That pleases me, Lightbringer. His tone was warm with affection.
Everything is as it should. It’s such a perfect night. When have you last felt such peace, Amparo?
Your joy is my contentment, dear girl.
She extended a hand to give a lazy pet of his scales.
Your General Myoden is not looking for you, is he?
Dulcea laughed, leaning back against the tree. Her gaze drifted upward to the stars.
Don’t worry. He knows where I am.
Good. You realize he would turn the camp upside down if he didn’t.
Strange to think it’s come to that, isn’t it? Tarim is the same. She sighed. Their constant hovering makes me want to scream. I know they mean well, and it is all in my best interests, but sometimes I just want a moment to myself. You can understand that, cannot you? I am never again only me. No one lets me forget I am Dulcea Lightbringer. She is me, but I am not always her…
Amparo nudged her with his head, careful of his horns.
You are lucky to have so many people who care about you. Do not take it for granted. They are all decent people, including that barbarian chief who’s joined only this past fortnight. You are important to them. They would not try to rein you if they did not want what’s best for you.
I’ll try to be more tolerant. Myoden and Tarim mean well, I know that.
She thrummed her fingers on her thigh.
And Lady Pendralyssa; I like her. I would not call us friends—she lets no one get close to her, but I would trust my life in her hands. She can be difficult, but she is very honest, and I appreciate her devotion.
Dulcea paused, frowning.
You know what’s odd? There is a history of enmity between my people and hers, but Lady Pendralyssa is not evil nor are any of the warriors and priests that follow her command. This notion we have of their terrible cruelty seems like a mere fallacy. She is proud and cold-blooded, to be sure, but it is with great conviction she fights to save her people’s legacy. Just like we fight to save our own!
Amparo tilted his massive head to gaze at her. The look in his eyes was serious.
History has wronged many a great nation and destroyed many a formidable person. And why? Because someone decided it ought to be so. You remember that, little one. Never judge someone for no other reason than what history says about them. We are not copies of our ancestors.
Wise words, my friend, but we do not always do as we teach.
Then we have erred, and someone should have the courage to tell us so.
Dulcea grinned. These past three years have taught me much. I still marvel at the incredulity of it all. This fight is as much mine as it is everyone else’s. We win or fall as one. We may have our differences, but I know I can count on them to never abandon a principle or a goal.
Your will has indeed been strong enough to overcome the obstacles in your way.
Oh no, not I. You cannot give me the credit for that, Amparo.
Dulcea leaned forward, touching her forehead to his scaly neck.
There would be no victory for us without the Adegan Clan. This would have all remained a mere dream had you not seen my worth. You and your whole clan! The knowledge of your presence is enough to give courage to my people. It is with your help that they have found faith in themselves, and that courage will win this war for us.
Amparo gave a restless shift, torn between prideful pleasure and cautious disagreement.
Do not sell yourself short, girl. They do not call you Lightbringer for nothing. None of this would have happened without you. Every battle needs an inspiring leader. It is for you they fight, not the Adegan Clan. You have irrepressible inner strength: it is your light everyone follows. The day you sit in a corner, hugging your knees and cowering in fear, is a day you are no longer you.
The dragon stretched his lips to a toothy grin.
Never forget, Dulcea. Where there is a will, there is a way.
---
Dulcea jerked awake from her stupor. Her breath hitched. The dragons! She needed to find them; even a vampire as powerful as Krath was no match for a dragon. But she needed to act fast. There was no time to lose. She did not know where her Staff was, but if she got out of the castle, the dragons would eventually find her without being called.
Get up, Dulcea Silanquel, her inner voice said to her. Get up and run!
Dulcea sprang from the pool and rushed to ring for the servants.
“I want practical clothes,” she said to Mey and Violetta as soon as they arrived. “Not a dress. Men’s riding clothes will do if there’s nothing else with trousers. Also, bring me riding gloves.”
The maids did not hesitate; they did not even blink at her request. Dulcea’s confidence flourished. They wanted only to obey orders, no matter who issued them or how strange they might have been. The maids soon came back with a stack of clothing. Dulcea braided her hair into a quick plait while the maids helped her into a brown women’s leather riding outfit that came with matching high boots with soft soles. Dulcea smiled. Excellent. The attire was perfect.
When she had dressed, she told the girls to take her to the garden. The maids obeyed again without question.
They left her alone in the garden, and Dulcea rushed over to where the Death Rose grew upward along the wall. She glanced around her and saw no one. This plan was half-mad and desperate, but Dulcea was indignant, frightened, and sick of playing the puppet. The mere thought of seeing Krath again turned her stomach. She did not want to see him, not after how he had toyed with her. Was running away smarter? It raised her self-esteem, for sure. This was her taking her fate into her own hands again.
Dulcea gave the vine one more evaluating look as she pulled on her gloves. Her body was light and nimble: it ought to bear her weight. This was it. If she was to climb this wall, there would be no turning back.
She heaved a nervous breath and tried for the first footholds and handholds in the plant. She began to climb. The leather she wore protected her from the thorns, but the thickest parts of the vine were hard and wooden anyway, so finding safe chunks to grasp was easy. Her progress was slow, but foot by foot she scaled up the high wall. Dulcea’s heart was beating fast in her chest, and she was panting—not with the effort of climbing, but with sheer terror.
Any moment now, Krath might find out what she was doing.
Dulcea ground her teeth together, her fingers digging into the plant. Remember what Amparo said.
Her hands were shaking, and she had to focus and keep her eyes on her goal: the top of the wall. It seemed to come no nearer even though the distance to the ground was getting daunting. As she climbed higher, the rose got thinner and frailer, and in places it tore off the wall when she put her weight on it. She retreated in haste and tried another branch whenever this happened. Upon reaching the top she struggled for near a minute before mustering the strength to pull herself over the crenellations onto the wall walk.
She got to her feet, her breast heaving. Dulcea scanned her surroundings. She was standing on a bit of a walkway between the main keep and a tower. On her other side, the wall fell straight i
nto the river. She gulped. The current looked strong with swirling vortexes coming from beneath the waterfalls further up the river. She was unsure if she wanted to jump in there in the fading light of the evening.
Krath was likely to be in the main keep, so Dulcea turned towards the tower and broke into a run. Perhaps somewhere further on she would find a suitable plant to climb back down. She kept glancing over her shoulder as she ran, and before she even made it to the tower her worst fear came true.
She saw Krath on the wall walk behind her. He did not move but just stood there watching her. That was even more terrifying than if he had been running after her to stop her. Dulcea halted and faced him, pressing a hand to her chest. No. She would not go back.
He was too far off for either of them to say anything, but there was no mistaking his intention. He was here for her. Dulcea did not intend to wait and see what he would do.
She leaped up on the outward crenellations, prayed for success, and jumped into the river.
Chapter 9
The Price of Courage
The dark, foaming stream swept her with it at once. Dulcea let it carry her, realizing how futile it was to struggle against it. At least the direction was right—both Caerynian camps were somewhere downstream from Gwyndoorn. Dulcea drifted with the flow, trying to avoid anything that might break her flight. If she injured herself now, she was as good as gone. She bumped into something a few times, and although the impact knocked the wind out of her, she escaped it with only scratches and bruises.
The last light was dying from the sky when at last she ended up in calmer waters and could swim ashore. Dulcea climbed up the embankment, stepped into the dark forest, and began to run along the river shore.
She did not know how far she was from Haden’s camp. It might have been more than a day, close to two on foot. It was unlikely she would make it to East Ford before Krath caught her; that was not even her plan. All she had to do was stay ahead of him for a while. If even just one dragon espied her, she was safe. Dulcea cast her gaze upward.
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