Seirsha of Errinton

by Shari L. Tapscott

Not letting go of Rigel’s hand, I pull him deeper into the trees. A creek runs not far away. Its bubbling call is music to my dry throat. We find it, and I kneel. After I scrub my hands and arms, I cup my palms to scoop up the water. I want nothing more than to plunge into it and rid myself of the dirt that clings to me, but it’s far too cold tonight. Resigned, I wash my face and then stand.

  Rigel pauses when I think he will move forward, and when he finally speaks his voice is tight. “I almost had Dryal hanged for leaving you.”

  “Rigel—”

  “I know.”

  I wrap my fingers through his. “You would have died if he hadn’t done what he did.”

  He looks at our hands. “Until I found you, I wished I had. And yet if I had just stayed away…”

  I meet his eyes. “Rigel, what Father said was a lie. Even if you had kept away from me, I wouldn’t have stayed away from you.”

  He watches me for a moment, his gaze uncertain. “We should go back to the others before they miss us.”

  Leaning in, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Or not.”

  Warmth kindles in his eyes, but he glances through the trees. He lets out a sigh of resignation, presses a soft, short kiss to my lips, and then takes my hand and leads me back to camp.

  ***

  The day is just lightening, but the sun is still far below the mountains. I nudge Dryal with my boot. He snores, rolls over, and then pillows his hands under his cheek. This time I nudge harder, giving him a good boot under his ribs. His eyes fly open. Even though he looks like he’s still dreaming, he reaches for his sword.

  “Some protector you are.” I cross my arms. “I could have slit your throat.”

  “Some warrior queen you are—you didn’t.”

  I frown. “You’re supposed to be on guard.”

  Dryal glances around. Black coals sit cold in the fire pit. Splayed around it like spokes, half a dozen men sleep. Rigel, who took the first watch, rests nearby.

  “I don’t know how I fell asleep.” Dryal rubs a kink from his neck. Then, cautiously, he says, “I’m sorry for what happened.”

  I’m not sure what pains him more—the fact that he left me behind or apologizing for it.

  “Rigel needs to be your priority,” I say. “I’m glad you chose to save him.”

  Dryal crosses his arms and slightly tilts his head. “I’m not sure I would do it again.”

  “Because he didn’t choose you to be his right-hand?”

  “Because I wouldn’t have regretted leaving him like I have regretted leaving you. I was your guard, and I failed you.”

  “You could have failed us all by falling asleep tonight.” I mean to say the words lightly, but there’s more bite to them than I intend.

  Dryal winces and then nods to Rigel. “He doesn’t trust me.”

  “He may come to in time.” I study Rigel’s sleeping form. “He was distant with me last night.”

  “He hasn’t forgiven himself for what happened to you.”

  I look back at the knight. “But it was your fault.”

  Dryal gives me a wry smile. “He hasn’t forgiven me either.”

  After I study him for a moment, I say, “I forgive you.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.” The knight wears an earnest expression. “I swear it.”

  I nod to Rigel. “All I ask is that you keep him alive.”

  “I will do everything in my power to ensure you both stay alive.”

  “Swear your allegiance to him alone,” I demand. “Tell me that if it came to it, you would protect him before me.”

  Dryal shakes his head. “I can’t do that.”

  I cross my arms. “Why not?”

  “If I allow something to happen to you again, he will wish himself dead. By protecting you, I best serve him.”

  We stare at each other in a stalemate. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. There are plenty of men in this very camp that would lay down their life for Rigel. What difference does one man make?

  “You made the right choice.” I motion to Rigel, and, my voice low with finality, I say, “Do not let him make you doubt that.”

  Dryal nods, knowing there will be no more arguing about it this morning. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  I give the knight one last look and then crouch by Rigel. I hate to wake him after his time on guard last night, but he’s the only one I trust, and the sky is brightening from indigo to blue. I will be out of time soon.

  I touch his shoulder. “Rigel?”

  He rolls toward me, and his lips rise in a sleepy smile.

  “I want to bathe,” I whisper. “But I need someone to guard the creek.”

  Rigel leans on his elbow. Several seconds go by before he finally says, “All right.”

  With the others asleep, we make our way through the woods. Rigel scouts the bank, looking for a spot he deems worthy. As we walk, I try to untangle my hair with my fingers. The knots have twisted with other knots and cemented themselves together with dirt.

  Rigel’s quiet, and I don’t know how to break the silence. He seems pensive, withdrawn. I don’t like it.

  “This will do,” he says.

  The place in the creek he motions to is clear with smooth, round river rocks. It’s not very deep, but it will serve my purposes. He turns before I ask him to, giving me as much privacy as is safe.

  How am I supposed to go about this? I’ve never bathed in a creek before. Perhaps I’ll just wash my hair. With it as unsnarled as I can make it without a comb, I lean over and dip it in the water. I swirl around the ends. How will I get the rest?

  I scoff out loud. This was a terrible idea.

  “If you want to get clean, you’re going to have to get in the water.”

  I glance over my shoulder and smirk. “You’re supposed to be facing the other way.”

  “It didn’t sound as if it were going well.” Behind his slightly brooding expression, there is humor in his gaze.

  My lips twitch, and I circle my finger, motioning him to turn back. He holds up his hands as if surrendering and turns.

  Ignoring his advice, I lie flat on my back at the edge of the creek and then scoot until the water reaches my scalp. It’s frigid. I shiver as I work the water through my hair. A short time in the icy creek is worth being rid of the dirt and grime. I wish I’d thought to ask for soap—not that it was likely any of the men traveled with it anyway.

  I sit up and attempt to wring out my soaking hair. If anything, it’s more tangled than before. I try to wash the grit from my arms and legs, but there’s not much I will be able to do until we arrive at Archer and Pippa’s lands.

  “How’s your ankle?” Rigel asks, still facing away.

  I glance at it. I’ve been saving it for last. Rigel managed to free me of the cuff last night, but the scabbed skin is caked with dirt, and it’s swollen and oozing. I wash it clean as best as I can, but an infection has set in. Hopefully Archer has a good physician on hand.

  “It hurts a little,” I answer. “But I’m all right.”

  I grit my teeth as I scrub water over the wound.

  “Finished?” Rigel asks when I join him.

  I wring out my hair. My fingers catch on tangles as I comb it out enough to separate it into three strands for a simple braid.

  “I’ve never bathed in a creek,” I say. “It’s not as pleasant as I had hoped.”

  Rigel laughs under his breath and twines his fingers through mine. He’s warmer than he has been, but he’s still holding back. My father’s words have affected him. How could he think I would be safe and happy if I’d only chosen Dryal as Father had wished?

  I want to ease his fears, but at the same time, I don’t want to speak of it.

  Camp’s been packed by the time we return, and the men appear to be ready to travel.

  I ignore Malcolm’s teasing smirk when he sees us coming through the trees. I flick my braid over my shoulder and give him a haughty look. He laughs and holds out my mare’s reins. I attempt to march to my
horse with dignity, but I end up hobbling due to my ankle. Rigel gives me a questioning look, and I wave his concern away. I’m glad the wound is hidden under the tattered hem of my gown.

  The others find their mounts, and we ride. Rigel leads us with Malcolm at his side, and Dryal hovers between me and them, unsure where he belongs. We don’t stop for the noonday meal. Instead, we again eat dried meat from the packs. I choke some down, a little hungrier today than I was yesterday.

  By late afternoon, I’m exhausted. The sun slowly makes its way toward the western peaks. I hope we stop to make camp soon.

  Rigel has spoken to me twice, both times to see if I’m all right to keep riding. He’s congenial but distant—still troubled.

  Malcolm slows his horse and matches his pace to mine. “Rigel says your ankle is injured. How is it?”

  I glance at him. “It hurts.”

  The truth is that it more than hurts. It throbs with an intensity that makes me dizzy.

  “I have a salve in my pack. I’ll give it to you when we stop for the night.”

  I nod to him. I don’t have it in me to make small talk. He nods and returns to his position.

  My stomach growls, and I’m just wondering if we will have something other than dried meat for the evening meal when a knight yells out, “Dragon!”

  With a start, I whip around in my saddle to eye the sky behind us. I suck in a gasp when I see her, a sapphire jewel in the clouds.

  “No!” I yell when several men draw their bows. “She’s a friend.”

  “Stand down,” Rigel calls, though he too is at the ready.

  Adrinel circles in the sky, quickly descending, and makes a graceful landing that seems impossible for a creature her size. I leap from my horse and run to her as quickly as my ankle will allow. From the corner of my eye, I see Rigel abandon his mount as well.

  Ignoring Rigel’s insistent warning to get back, I throw myself at the dragon and demand, “Where have you been?”

  Tears prick my eyes, and I sniff them back as I bury my face in her velvet-scaled side.

  “I’ve been busy, mouse. Very, very busy.” Adrinel envelopes me in her wing for just a moment before she none-too-gently nudges me back. Her green eyes narrow as she takes stock of me. “You’re injured.”

  She turns her murderous gaze to Rigel and his men.

  The horses sense the dragon’s sudden shift in temper, and they dance nervously under their equally uneasy riders. Adrinel’s gaze finds Rigel, the closest target.

  “No—these men rescued me,” I say quickly. “It wasn’t them.” She shifts her attention back to me, and I lower my gaze. “It was Father.”

  Adrinel growls, and it’s a sound deep in her throat that chills the air and causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.

  “You reek of infection,” the dragon says. “Show me the wound.”

  Rigel tenses, but he stays back. I look at him, trying to reassure him with my eyes, and then I pull the tattered hem above my ankle.

  Adrinel hisses and then tilts her head back, preparing her flame.

  “No!” Rigel lunges forward, sword drawn.

  An eager-to-be-useful knight shoots his bow. The arrow clatters off Adrinel’s side, just above her wing. It’s a harmless hit, but she roars with furious indignation.

  I lunge in front of Rigel. “Stop!”

  There is silence.

  My heart beats madly as I stand between dragon and slayer. Silently, I plead with Rigel to stand down. He ignores me, his cold, hard gaze focused on Adrinel.

  “Rigel, this dragon is dear to me.” It surprises me my voice doesn’t waver. “Adrinel,” I continue, still watching Rigel. “I love this man.”

  Rigel’s gaze softens, and he finally looks at me. He sheathes his sword and steps back.

  Behind me, Adrinel slowly lowers her wings, her muscles easing. “Tell your men to leave us.”

  Rigel angles his head in challenge. “I will not.”

  Adrinel tenses again and turns her attention to the knight who shot her. “I will not travel with men who attack me.”

  “You will not travel with us at all,” Rigel counters.

  Adrinel steps forward and shoves me aside. “You have already shown you are incapable of protecting Seirsha. I will not leave her in your care.”

  I touch her wing. “Adrinel—”

  “She’s right.” Rigel crosses his arms, and the stubborn set of his jaw softens as he looks back at me. “I didn’t protect you.”

  Ready to argue, I shake my head, but he doesn’t give me the chance.

  “You may go with your dragon if you wish,” he says, his voice quiet.

  I glance at Adrinel. Now that they’ve attacked her, she will not travel with the knights, and I am not ready to part with her yet. I look back at Rigel. “Come with us.”

  The dragon begins to protest, but I cut her off with a sharp look. She stares at me, her tail flicking, but finally nods in consent. The men murmur at our silent conversation. Even Rigel looks startled at the friendship the dragon and I have cultivated.

  “Come with us,” I say again, begging him.

  “Ride ahead,” Rigel finally commands his men. “I will accompany Seirsha and her beast.”

  Beside me, Adrinel snorts at the insinuation that she is my pet.

  The men are reluctant to leave. Malcolm and Dryal look the most hesitant, but even they eventually do as they’re told.

  When a cloud of dust is all that remains of our party, Rigel turns to Adrinel, his emotions masked behind storm-gray eyes. “We’re at your mercy, dragon. Where will you lead us?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “I don’t like this, Seirsha.” Rigel eyes the dragon with distrust.

  I extend my leg so Adrinel may have an easier angle to work from and say, “It’s fine.”

  Rigel’s expression is hard. I wonder if he knows his hand is on his sword. I think it’s his natural reaction to anything that makes him uneasy.

  “It’s not pleasant, though,” I add. “You might not want to watch.”

  He scoffs, and I bite back a smile.

  “Are you ready?” Adrinel asks, her voice bored. “Or would you care to hash it out a bit more?”

  I close my eyes and brace myself. “I’m ready.”

  The fire’s sting is sharper than usual—sharper than I expect—and I fight the urge to cry out. It’s so cold, I feel as if my leg is surely frozen. I grit my teeth, working to stay conscious. Despite the overwhelming sensations, I hear Rigel gasp. Few humans have ever witnessed a dragon’s healing flame.

  I stay still several moments after it’s over, and keep my eyes closed as I work to compose myself. When I do finally look at the dragon, I demand, “What was that?”

  She cocks her head, and, enunciating very carefully as if she thinks I’ve gone daft, she says, “I healed you.”

  “It hurt!”

  “Well, of course it hurt.” She gives me the reptilian equivalent of an eye roll. “It was infected.”

  I bite my lip, refusing to spar with her. “Thank you,” I finally say.

  When I look at Rigel, I almost laugh. He’s staring at my ankle in wonder.

  Sensing my gaze, he meets my eyes and says, “It’s completely healed.”

  I nod, and he shakes his head as if he can’t grasp it.

  “Does it still hurt?” he asks.

  “It tingles as if it’s been asleep, but there’s no pain.” I roll my ankle. Already, the prickly sensation is ebbing.

  “Can all dragons do that?” he demands of Adrinel.

  “No,” she answers, her voice even. “I am the only one.”

  Rigel looks at the dragon with something akin to awe, and I give Adrinel a chastising look before I say, “They all can.”

  Rigel gives her a knowing half-smile, and she returns it, her scaly mouth turned up. On her, the look is disturbing.

  “Are there limitations?” he asks.

  “The wound must be external,” Adrinel answers.
/>
  He waits for a moment, waiting to see if I will correct her, and then he nods.

  Satisfied I am fully healed, Adrinel stretches her wings. “We will stay here for the night. I will hunt, and when I return, I will start your fire. Do not wander away. I do not wish to track you down.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she leaps into the air.

  A smile plays at Rigel’s lips. “Apparently we humans are not capable of starting our own fires.”

  ***

  I would give the entire kingdom for a long, hot bath, a clean gown, and a decent meal. Though Adrinel healed my ankle, there’s little she can do for my saddle-weary muscles. Rigel rides next to me, his body immune to the taxing ride. Adrinel flies overhead, disappearing into the clouds and appearing again at random.

  I stand in my saddle and groan out loud.

  Rigel glances over, his eyes alight with humor. “Sore?”

  “No.”

  He grins. “I would have guessed otherwise.”

  His mood has improved since yesterday, and his expression isn’t so dark. Who would have thought that time with a dragon would do him good?

  “Let’s rest for a moment,” Rigel says. “Your dragon won’t mind.”

  In one smooth, unexpected movement, Rigel throws his leg over his horse, drops to the ground, and catches my mare by her bridle.

  “She’ll likely mind,” I say as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me down.

  “Well, perhaps I don’t care.”

  I push against his chest, playing aloof even though I’m elated he’s in good spirits. His lips quirk in a half-smile, and he pulls me closer.

  Then I stop pretending to struggle. My fingers run over his shoulder, and I whisper, “Can we move past what happened?”

  “I’ll always regret it,” he says. “I’ll always blame myself. But I don’t have to dwell on it.”

  I nod, appreciating that it’s a truthful answer. His lips brush against mine, and I angle toward him slightly. It’s all the invitation he needs.

  His kiss is not quite gentle. Breathless, I pull him closer, and my hands skim his sun-warmed mail.

  “We’ll never reach our destination if you keep this up.”

  I pull away, astonished we didn’t hear Adrinel land behind us.