Seirsha of Errinton

by Shari L. Tapscott

  “What do they want?”

  Rigel sits on the edge of the bed, and he brushes his hand over my bare shoulder. His eyes are intent but good-humored. “They’ve come to form an alliance.”

  “With us?”

  “I believe they’re a little too far north for Triblue.”

  He gives me a wicked smile and then kisses me, making me forget what we were speaking of.

  I sigh against him, wishing we could stay here all day. He kisses my neck and travels across my shoulders. I melt. Finally, he draws back as duty wins, just as I knew it would.

  I don’t resent it. It’s just one of the many reasons I love him.

  ***

  Like living jewels, the dragons glisten in the sun. In their great multitude, they take my breath away. They are beautiful—and terrifying.

  Sensing my discomfort, Rigel takes my hand as we move forward. They watch, appraising us. This is our first show of power. It is now that they will decide whether we are worthy of an alliance.

  We stop on a hill, looking out on them, and wait for their chosen to come forward. Pride blooms in my heart when a sapphire female breaks from the rest. So that’s what Adrinel was doing all this time. She was fighting for her right to rule. And she has been deemed worthy.

  Adrinel nods to Rigel, showing him infinitely more reverence than she did while traveling here. “Bowen approaches.”

  “How many men?” Rigel asks.

  “Four thousand. Maybe less.”

  Rigel glances at me before he looks back at Adrinel. “That’s all?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  He shakes his head, thinking. “How many in your numbers?”

  “A little over three hundred.”

  I shudder at the thought of three hundred dragons gathered together.

  Rigel looks behind us to where Malcolm stands with Archer and Dryal. “How many men do we have?”

  “Fifteen thousand,” Malcolm answers. “Glendon has brought eight, Lauramore five, and the rest combined are near ten.”

  Rigel stares east, over the hills. Somewhere in that direction, Father is approaching.

  “He must know we outnumber him nearly ten to one in men alone. What is he thinking?” he muses.

  “Perhaps he wishes to surrender?” Malcolm asks.

  Dryal snorts. “You think he wants that large of an audience to watch him hand Rigel his kingdom?”

  Malcolm opens his mouth to argue, but Rigel cuts him off. “No matter his intentions, we will be prepared.”

  “Surely he won’t mean to fight,” I say. “It would be suicide.”

  Rigel frowns at me. “There are times death is preferable to defeat.”

  A knot winds itself in my stomach. Though he speaks of Father, I know what he truly means. If it came to it, he would fight to the death to save Errinton.

  The thought troubles me more than it should. If Father came away from this victorious, Rigel would die anyway. It’s better to meet death with a sword in your hand than to be beheaded.

  Rigel squeezes my hand. “We have three hundred dragons and thirty-eight thousand men, Seirsha. This battle has already won itself.”

  His words are meant to soothe me, but instead they make me nervous. Father knows something we don’t. He wouldn’t challenge us unless he did.

  Rigel turns back to Adrinel. “Dragon, how far are they?”

  “Two days. Perhaps three. Humans are slow and easily distracted; it is difficult to judge.” Her mouth twists in a mockery of a smile.

  With the largest flight of dragons in Errintonian history biding their time in the valley below, Rigel wisely ignores her insults. “Will the dragons fight with us?”

  Adrinel’s tail twitches. “That depends.”

  Rigel sets his jaw, irritated she won’t answer him directly. “On what?”

  “The northern mountains and the hot springs will belong to us. From today on, it will be separated from Errinton.”

  Finally, Rigel nods. “Fine. That’s acceptable.”

  “You will honor the original peace treaty.”

  “Yes.”

  “Once a year, in each village, your people will gather an offering of gold to the dragons living in that region in exchange for our protection.”

  Rigel narrows his eyes. “No. We don’t ask—or need—your protection, only your agreement of peace.”

  “Careful, Rigel,” Dryal mock-whispers behind us. “She may ask for a maiden sacrifice next.”

  Adrinel sets her eyes on Dryal. She breathes out, and flames lick from her mouth in a warning. “Or perhaps I’ll settle for eating you.”

  With a challenging quirk of his eyebrow, Dryal pats the hilt of his sword.

  Cocky dragon slayers—it will be a wonder if a battle doesn’t break out long before Father reaches us.

  I step forward and place my hand on Adrinel’s side. “We’ll give you gold in exchange for enchanting armor.”

  Rigel blinks, apparently surprised at the idea.

  Adrinel glances down at me. “And jewels too.”

  I glance at Rigel, warning him to keep silent with my eyes. “Yes. Jewels, too.”

  The dragon turns to Rigel, questioning if he will challenge my decision. The lord only nods, looking pleased.

  “You will seek our council when you consult your lords,” Adrinel continues.

  Rigel fixes his eyes on her. “As equals?”

  She nods. “As equals.”

  “Agreed.”

  “We will fight for you, King of Errinton.” She flicks her head toward the tents where thousands of men have set up camp. “You may send them home. They won’t be needed.”

  Quite suddenly, Adrinel leaps into the air, and her wings catch the wind. She circles above us, and then, riding high on an invisible current, she roars down to the waiting dragons in the valley. They respond in same, and the ground trembles under my feet with their victory cry.

  I grab Rigel’s arm and hold tight, wondering if the hillside itself with crumble and fall from their voices alone. Birds flock from trees, flying in terror. Behind us, horses scream in fright, nearly bucking their riders to the ground.

  My heart races not only from fear but from the beauty of it. They are spectacular.

  ***

  A cold knot has settled in my stomach, and the more I try to ignore it, the more it grows. The men prepare for a battle they swear will never take place. Even Pippa is gone. She’s practicing her bow with Archer. She’ll be stationed on the battlements with the bowmen.

  I should have taken dinner in my room. Instead, I sit in the great hall, alone. It’s eerily silent. Several servants attend me, but with only one to serve, they have little to do. I take a sip of cider. Seeing I have less than three-quarters of a chalice left, the serving woman to my right immediately tops it off.

  I’m surprised they haven’t asked to cut my meat.

  I drape my napkin across my barely-touched plate. I don’t have much of an appetite anyway.

  “Would you like me to escort you to your room, Your Highness?” the overly helpful woman asks.

  “I can find it,” I say as I push away from the table.

  Again, servants scurry through the halls, but the rest of the estate’s occupants are in the camp or the courtyard. I pause just outside the door to the room I now share with Rigel. There is no reason to spend the night alone. Rigel never asked me to stay here. I simply assumed it’s where I belong.

  Quickly, before I lose my nerve, I make my way through the halls and out the doors. The summer sun has set. The sky is dark, but the courtyard is alight with mounted torches. It’s so bright, a person could read by the firelight if they were so inclined. I think of the dark streets of the village below the castle. I will be adding more light.

  I stop, startled at the thought. If all goes as planned, I will have that power. I will be queen. Standing watch at the double doors, a guard bows to me. I nod to him, feeling a little faint. In their minds, I’m already their queen.

  The co
urtyard is abuzz with activity. Hundreds of men go this way and that, but I see no sign of the man I want.

  “Where will I find Rigel?” I ask a guard.

  “I believe he’s in the armory, Your Highness.”

  “Which building is it?”

  He points it out. I thank him and weave through the scattered crowds. All who notice my presence acknowledge me just as the guard did. There’s no hint of irony in their expressions as there was in those under my father’s command. Instead, I see respect.

  It’s disconcerting and very humbling. Who am I to lead these people? I’m the girl who longed with most of her being to flee Errinton and never look back.

  I reach the large stone building, and the guards open the doors for me. They don’t announce my arrival, and I’m glad. There will be no more of that.

  Rigel speaks with Archer and several of the princes I recognize from our wedding feast. Was that two days ago? It seems like a lifetime.

  I hesitate by the doors. Perhaps this was a bad idea. I do not want to interrupt them. I’m about to turn when Rigel glances over. His eyes widen in surprise, but then a warm smile spreads across his face. It almost takes my breath away. Even now, preparing for battle, he’s more at ease here than he’s ever been at court.

  He strides to me and sets his hands gently on my arms. After leaning in for a soft kiss, he says, “Forgive me. I’ve been neglecting you.”

  I shake my head. “No. I know where you are needed.”

  He kisses me again, not caring that we’re surrounded by his men, and then he tucks my hand under his arm. He leads me to the group.

  I remember their names but very little else. Teagan, the crown-prince of Glendon, is the first to greet me.

  Prince Irving of Primewood steals my hand away from Teagan, and then he steps forward. “If you were my bride, fair queen, I would never leave your side.”

  I frown at him, unsure how to respond. I glance at Rigel, but he shakes his head, dismissing the prince with a roll of his eyes.

  Bran of Triblue’s smile is warm. He’s dressed differently than the rest, in a way that makes me think of foreign places and adventure. He bows his head to me.

  “Your Highness,” Percival of Lauramore says with a slight bow.

  And last, my eyes slide to Archer. He says nothing, but his expression is friendly. Apparently none care that I’ve intruded.

  “Where has Father set up his camp for the night?” I ask.

  The dragons have been keeping watch on them, updating us on their progress. A part of me wishes the beasts would attack so we may be done with it. At the same time, my heart aches for the man I had always hoped Father would be. Once he is gone, the hope will be lost.

  “They are on the other side of the valley,” Rigel answers.

  The cold knot coils tighter in my stomach. I look up and meet Rigel’s eyes. “Tomorrow.”

  He slowly nods. “Tomorrow.”

  “Will he attack in the night?”

  Rigel runs a comforting hand over my arm. “We do not believe—”

  There is a commotion from the courtyard. My eyes dart to the door and into the black beyond the torchlight. Outside, the men’s attention has shifted. The sound of iron meeting cobblestones rings through the air as a horse enters through the main gates.

  Dryal strides forward and stops the rider. Rigel too makes his way toward the courtyard, and I follow. Dryal looks over and addresses Rigel, “He is unarmed. Bowen has sent a message.”

  The rider dismounts and extends his hand toward Rigel. He makes no gesture of respect but stands as if he were animated stone.

  Rigel accepts the message, breaks the seal, and then steps closer to a torch. “Wait here,” he says to the messenger once he’s read the letter. He motions to Malcolm and Dryal to follow him back into the armory.

  “What does he want?” Dryal demands.

  Rigel glances at me. “He wants to speak with us tomorrow just after sunrise.”

  “Absolutely not,” Dryal says. “You can’t take Seirsha to him. You’d be delivering her right into his hands!”

  Rigel’s face goes hard. “I have no intention of bringing my wife onto the battlefield.”

  The words hang in the air, quietly making their point.

  I touch Rigel’s arm. “What does he want to see us for?”

  Rigel scans the message again. “He doesn’t say.”

  “Perhaps, now that he is close, he has seen how very outnumbered he is?”

  “It’s possible.” His expression contradicts his words. He doesn’t believe Father will surrender his crown that easily.

  So what is it he has planned?

  Teagan steps forward. “Rigel, I’m sure you already know this, but you can’t trust Bowen to be unarmed for this meeting.”

  Rigel nods. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  “I’ll go,” I say.

  The men’s eyes slide to me, surprised.

  “If he wanted me dead, he would have already killed me.”

  Rigel rubs his temple as if a headache is setting in. “Seirsha, I know he’s—”

  I step closer to him, making him look at me. “Yes, he’s my father. If this is my one chance to save him, please, let me take it.”

  He watches me for several moments and then exhales a slow breath. “We’re all tired. Let’s speak of it more in the morning.”

  “There’s little left to attend to here,” Malcolm says. “You should get some rest.”

  I murmur several goodbyes, but my mind is on the meeting. I know I can’t let Rigel walk into it alone, and I know I can’t make Father surrender. But if I’m there, perhaps he won’t turn on Rigel.

  Once we’re in our chambers, I sit on the bed, exhausted. Rigel sits next to me. He says nothing, but his fingers wrap around mine. We stay like this for several moments, each of us trapped in our own thoughts.

  “I want to let you go,” he finally says. “But I don’t trust him.”

  “Please.” I turn to him. “I don’t think he has it in him to hurt me. He wanted to the day you escaped—he was consumed with fury. But he couldn’t.”

  Rigel rests his forehead against mine. “We have the advantage, Seirsha. We don’t need to agree to this meeting. We’ve already won.”

  “But you will because it’s the honorable thing to do. I know you. You’ll do it.”

  I wait, hoping he’ll tell me he won’t—swear to me he won’t. But he stays silent.

  He draws me closer and kisses my brow. “By this time tomorrow, this dark cloud will be gone. It will be over.”

  “I want to believe that. I really do.”

  “Our lives have been filled with death and sadness and disappointment, but believe me, it’s going to end. I swear to you. The rest of your life will be filled with joy.”

  I touch my cheek, surprised to find it damp. “I am yours, Rigel. There is no greater earthly happiness than that.”

  He kisses me softly. There’s no urgency, no rush. Simply us. When the candles have burned low, I finally fall asleep in his arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Dryal narrows his eyes at me. “This is a bad idea.”

  Rigel looks like he agrees, and I shoot Dryal a sharp look. “You don’t get a say in the matter.”

  The knight scowls and slides his sword in its sheath with more force than necessary. I try to ignore him and instead focus on adjusting the strange armor I wear. It’s fitted and slim, forged of dragon steel. Rigel said if I found a set small enough, he would take me to Father. He didn’t seem pleased when Pippa produced one. It was probably meant for a tall youth, but it will do.

  Pippa attaches a cloak, not only to set me apart as one of noble birth, but also to shield me from the storm that has settled around us.

  The clouds sleep low in the valley this morning, and they obscure Father’s army. Though storms are frequent in Errinton, something about the weather feels ominous, as if a great darkness is biding its time, dozing until the moment is right.

&
nbsp; Pippa stands back, admiring her work. The princess seems more at ease than I’ve seen her in months. Like many of the men, she’s eager to fight. She wears light leather armor, which is easy to move in. Somehow the princess makes it looks elegant. Her hair is braided into a crown on her head, out of the way and secure.

  “You will be fine,” she assures me.

  “I know.”

  Not one for overly emotional displays, she gives my arm a pat and then excuses herself to find Archer.

  Rigel nods the rest of the group away. Once they’ve left, he sets his hands on my shoulders and leans down to look me square in the eyes. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I do.”

  “And you say I’m stubborn.”

  I brush his jaw with my fingers. He didn’t shave this morning, and the stubble makes him look more dangerous than usual. Like me, he’s donned armor. He wears a cloak of his own, and a simple circlet sits atop his head, quietly proclaiming his right to the throne.

  “You are so handsome,” I breathe.

  Rigel catches my hand. “Don’t.”

  I twine my fingers in his. “Don’t what?”

  “Speak in a tone that says this is our end.”

  “Do you feel it?” I ask. “There’s a strange quality to the air.”

  I glance out the armory doors. The building is quiet; the excitement has moved to the courtyard. The mist moves over the stones.

  “Stay here,” he says instead of answering my question.

  I shake my head. Somehow I know if I send him alone, he won’t return.

  A bell tolls the slow, steady thrum of the hour. We meet Father at the next bell.

  “It’s time,” I say.

  Rigel sets his hands on my cheeks, and his charcoal eyes plead with me. “Please, Seirsha, stay here.”

  I rise on my toes, close the distance between us, and brush a soft kiss on his lips. He sets his forehead against mine.

  “It will be fine.”

  He opens his eyes, a sad smile on his lips. “You are breathtaking, you know.”

  I glance at my armor and then give him a doubtful look.

  He runs his hand down my braid. “You are a Queen of Errinton, strong and beautiful, fire and ice.

  “Mostly ice.”