Dragon Thief

by Katy Haye

  Jaran rapped a hand against the balcony railing, the tap of his ring loud in the silence. “The Surran king executes traitors by having them skinned alive. That’s a public spectacle.”

  Bile rose. I swung to Jaran and saw from his expression that he wasn’t joking. I retched, turning the reflex into a cough so I wouldn’t shame my father if he was still spying – if Jaran had been instructed to give me that piece of information to test me.

  “Why would you tell me that?” I cried.

  He regarded me calmly. “I thought you should be warned, so you know you might need to school your expression in the future.”

  “I don’t doubt I’ll need to do that.” I glanced at the door our parents had vanished through. We were alone. “Do you know the stories?” I demanded. “Are – are they true?” I would never have another chance to ask, not of anyone who might tell me.

  Jaran lifted a shoulder. “His eldest son is definitely in exile. Prince Ryss is gathering forces and will almost certainly make an attack on the king if he thinks he has a chance of success.”

  My heart lurched. What had I thought – that Jaran would pat my head and tell me I was going to a land where honey ran in streams like water and everyone loved one another? I wasn’t stupid. “And what about his other children?”

  “They haven’t been seen for three months.” He glanced aside, staring into the blue sky as though he might find answers there. “I’d guess they’re dead, but by his hand? No one knows. Maybe their brother killed them – if they refused to help him.”

  And I thought my family was cold. What about his wife? That one I didn’t dare to voice. I didn’t want to know.

  “Don’t worry, sis,” Jaran told me lightly. “You’re a strong woman. I’m sure you’ll flourish once you leave Muirland.”

  He strode away before I could ask anything more. A strong woman? I wondered what he’d seen to make him think that. He was mistaken. I was a craven coward, the frightened rabbit he so often named me.

  And yet, I would have to learn courage. My life was at stake. If the Surran king had killed his first wife, I couldn’t allow him to kill his second. Nor any of her children when they came.

  And the first test of my strength would come tonight. I had to sneak out of the palace again and warn Lyo not to try to break in until it was safe.

  ~

  I was in my room, trying to figure out the best plan to reach Lyo through all the guards, when Mother swept into my room. This time, she wanted to discuss the jewels I would take with me to Surran. I wanted to scream. None of that mattered. But I knew better than to provoke her suspicion further.

  “We do not wish to enrich Surran excessively, but our wealth must be clear.” She unrolled several cloth wraps on my dressing table, the gems within glinting in the light. She looked sharply at me. “You will adorn the Surran court. These will adorn you.” Her fingers draped across the sparkling trinkets. “Your father has agreed that you will take all these.” She paused, indicating them one at a time. “The silver set, and the sapphire set, both from our mountains.” They were mined at the edge of the Firethorn Mountains, the part of the land that belonged to us and not the fae. Perhaps our sudden enmity with the fae had more to do with mining opportunities and the resultant wealth than anything else. “And pearls from the Muirland coast.” She moved on to the next set, a bracelet, necklace, earrings and tiara crafted from silvery pearls harvested from oysters in many of our bays. “You will also take this white gold and ruby set that came from Nordin originally.” The one Mother had brought to her marriage. “It will do the Surran court no harm to be reminded that we are friends with our northern neighbour.”

  I thought “friends” was probably overstating the matter. From what little I knew of things, the Blood King of the northern lands was a blood-sucking immortal who looked on humans as we might regard flies – tiresome and of little consequence. However, he also wielded powerful magic, and Nordin didn’t have any dragons that our mages coveted, so for lack of being enemies I supposed we might name ourselves friends.

  “And I brought you some rings.” She opened another purse and poured a dozen or so onto the tabletop. “They will be highly visible, so wear as many as you can. Any that will fit.”

  She forced me to try them, exclaiming over those that fit my fingers and grumbling about those too small or large, sweeping them back into the purse and assuring me that a jeweller would be employed to make them fit.

  “There. That’s a useful job done.” She gathered up the rolls with the jewels inside. I made to remove my rings, but she stopped me. “No. Wear them now. You may as well get used to them.” She tapped the rolls. “These will go with you to Surran. Wear them when you think it appropriate – provided your husband approves.”

  By which, I guessed she meant that the jewellery was actually a present for the Surran king, much like myself. And if he chose not to share that present with me I mustn’t make a fuss. I didn’t plan to protest about anything in Surran. He has traitors skinned alive. I shook myself: brave. I was going to be a brave, strong queen.

  “You’d better change for dinner now,” Mother told me. “Mage Redmor is attending to cast spells for harmony for your marriage before we eat. You won’t want to keep him waiting.”

  “Mage Redmor?” My heart lurched in dismay.

  “That’s right. Your father has asked him to lend his magic to the union. You have an hour to get ready.” The door banged behind her. I fidgeted with the rings, which felt new and strange on my fingers.

  I didn’t want anything to do with Mage Redmor. I shivered, remembering the way he’d looked at me earlier, the sense I’d had that he could read my very thoughts.

  Why had Mother agreed to let him cast spells? Had she forgotten about the magic inside me? Had she thought I’d banished it instead of hiding it? That she could speak a command and magic would obey? I couldn’t let him learn of the power that resided inside me. The slightest glimpse could be the death of me.

  I glanced at my bed, but the idea that I could feign an illness died before it had even taken root. If my father wished Mage Redmor to cast spells over me, then it was going to happen. I would have to submit to the mage’s spells.

  I’d just have to ensure my magic stayed hidden.

  12 – My Magic Didn’t Like It

  “…And here is the princess.”

  I was nearly running when I reached my mother’s private lounge. I forced myself to a steady pace. I’d taken my time preparing, staying in my room until the last possible moment, hoping, perhaps, for a thunderbolt to land on Mage Redmor and stop our meeting. No such catastrophe had occurred, leaving me to rush my preparations such that I was now both late, and flushed and out of control. Not things my parents would find praiseworthy.

  But Mother was smiling as she turned from Mage Redmor to face me. Jaran was leaning against the wall by the window, and I’d arrived before my father, so I wasn’t keeping him waiting. I dipped a curtsy, tipping my head so my flushed cheeks were hidden. Strong woman, I reminded myself, and rose to look the chief mage straight in the eye. “I understand you wish to cast magic to ensure our union with Surran is harmonious and successful.”

  The mage inclined his head. “Your father asked if I could bend my magic to ensuring the success of the marriage.”

  There was something unpleasant about Mage Redmor, a dislike as strong as the fear I held for him. He was … supercilious, as though we were beneath his notice and he was constantly biting his lip to hold himself back from telling us so. I always got the feeling that the moment he turned his back he laughed at us. I was surprised my father didn’t object. But he was probably different with a powerful man than with a powerless woman. “I’m sure there is no need for magic to ensure such a thing,” I said. Mother’s brows drew together and I forced myself to remain calm. “But I am honoured if you will exercise your talents in support of the bond between Muirland and Surran.”

  Mother nodded, pleased. My heart was pounding, but determ
ination curled my fingers. I could be strong, I could. I just needed to survive the next few minutes.

  “Indeed, Princess. If you are ready, we will start straight away.”

  I glanced at Mother in surprise. “Is my father not joining us?”

  “Your father is busy.” Her lips pinched together.

  I relaxed at knowing he wouldn’t be watching me and looking for reasons to be displeased. That feeling lasted until Mage Redmor stepped aside to reveal an ornately carved seat set in the centre of the room. “Please, take a seat.”

  Discomfort prickled down my spine, but it was only a seat. More comfortable than standing. Who knew how long the process would take?

  “Come along, Jurelle. Don’t keep the mage waiting.” Mother swept to my side in a rustle of skirts and took my hand. While we stood face to face, hidden from Jaran and Mage Redmor’s gaze, her fingers moved quickly. I glanced down to see a flash of silver. She’d pushed a wood-and-silver bead bracelet onto my wrist.

  And my skin began to crawl, as though a dozen ants had been set free on my arm.

  Panicked, I lifted my other hand to push it off.

  Mother gripped my hand hard and pushed the bracelet higher, until it was hidden beneath my sleeve, nestled in the crook of my elbow. “You’re quite safe, silly girl,” she snapped, tugging me towards the chair beside Mage Redmor.

  My heart raced as she pushed me into the seat. Mother knew my secret. She had to know why the idea of letting Mage Redmor use magic on me terrified me.

  “No one’s going to hurt you,” she told me coldly, as though I were a small child making a fuss about eating my vegetables. She squeezed my arm, pressing the beads harder against my skin. I gasped at the painful heat of them. Mother’s eyes held a warning. I was to cooperate, regardless. Under her cold, relentless gaze I didn’t dare try to move the bracelet. The pain would simply have to be endured.

  “There.” She turned to the mage. “She’s ready for you.”

  I sat upright, refusing to allow the tears that pricked my eyes to fall, gripping the chair arms. All my new rings glinted in the candlelight. I wished I could harness the light in them and drive the mage away. Mage Redmor gave me the shivers, and I really didn’t want his focus to land on me for however long tonight’s spell-casting would take. I held the chair tighter, hiding my trembling hands. What if he detected my magic?

  Mother should understand my fears, but perhaps I’d hidden it so well that she’d forgotten my secret. And now Mage Redmor was breathing down my neck, preparing whatever spells he and my father thought would ready me for my marriage. Strong, I reminded myself. I needed to endure this ceremony, hide my own magic, and slip into the city to warn Lyo that the guard around the palace had been doubled. I sat straighter. I had to get through this, because Lyo was relying on me. I pushed my magic down and took a deep breath.

  “Drink this, Princess.”

  Mage Redmor was at my shoulder. I stared down at the goblet. I couldn’t make out the colour of its contents, much less what liquid it contained. “What is it?”

  “A potion. It will help to calm you. Drink it.”

  It was doing the opposite of calming me. I didn’t want to drink anything this man offered me. I looked past him. Mother scowled, so I understood the consequences of refusing. Jaran met my gaze and nodded slightly. Was he suggesting it was safe?

  Safe or not, there was no escape. “Thank you.” I couldn’t stop the automatic politeness, although I winced internally as I accepted the goblet and swigged a drink.

  My head spun the moment I swallowed the sweet mixture down, as though I’d drunk strong wine. The light seemed brighter. Where it struck the silver of my rings it made my eyes hurt.

  “Good girl.” Mage Redmor squeezed my shoulder. I wanted to move away, or push him away, but it seemed too much bother. My hands were too heavy to move.

  And then he let me go. He stood in front of me, chanting words, throwing his arms around so his cloak shifted and shimmered. Was this magic?

  I felt the magic inside me flex. I wondered if it was curious about what he was doing. Or what he was attempting – it seemed more for show than actual, effective magic. I didn’t have to make this fuss when I used my magic. That was quiet, and effortless … and useful. I tensed. A glimpse of magic and my life would be over. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

  His movements grew more frenzied. My fingers gripped the chair arms. My rings glittered. I shut my eyes against the sharp glare. Inside me, I felt my magic settle against my bones, slumbering and dull the way my thoughts had been dulled by the drink.

  Mage Redmor stopped, silenced. Before I could sit up, he spoke over my head. “She’s open to influence. Is there anything particular you want me to do?”

  “She has displayed an unwelcome tendency towards independence recently,” my mother complained. I kept my eyes closed, frozen in place. “Walking in the palace gardens at night, asking questions about things that don’t concern her, challenging her parents when she should accept what we tell her without question.” My head spun as the list of complaints continued. Mother sounded appalled, but not as appalled as I felt about her airing her false complaints about me to the chief mage. “She must not put the alliance with Surran at risk by her unruly behaviour,” Mother concluded finally.

  “I understand,” Mage Redmor assured her.

  I wanted to weep, and I wanted to rake Mother’s face with my nails until I drew blood. I despised myself for being passive, for accepting everything my parents told me to do, for not fighting, never fighting. I hated the daughter they’d raised. And yet, in Mother’s eyes, I still wasn’t the daughter she wanted. What little, feeble rebellion I managed was too much for her to stomach.

  I sensed Mage Redmor standing in front of me again. I kept my eyes closed. I didn’t want to see any of these people now. Even Jaran hadn’t spoken out in support of me. The mage began to chant again. I felt the magic this time, sliding against my skin. It was looking for a way in, but I forced myself to push back, my own magic forming a barrier. I hoped the mage couldn’t detect that his mumbling was having no effect, but I wasn’t prepared to let him change one atom of my being. If my parents didn’t like me as I was today, well, they wouldn’t have to put up with me for much longer. The chanting went on until my head ached with the monotony of it.

  And finally, he shut up. “Princess?” He touched a hand on my shoulder.

  I blinked, opening my eyes slowly. He smiled at me, my mother’s frowning face crowded behind him. “Is it done?” I asked, as though I didn’t know that his magic had stopped scratching at my skin like insects I longed to swat.

  “Mage Redmor has said some charms over you. We are sure the marriage will be a success.” Mother’s lips curved in satisfaction. I saw little to smile about. Mage Redmor had tried to turn me from the person I was to the person they wanted me to be. She was lying to me. They’d all been lying to me. All my life.

  ~

  I had to hold back my impatience during dinner. Everything was conspiring to keep me away from Lyo, and I was afraid that he would try to break into the palace before I could escape to warn him. I tried to reassure myself with the memory of his confidence. He wasn’t stupid; he wouldn’t attempt to get inside the palace until it was as quiet as it ever got. Still, I picked at my food, impatient for the time to pass. No one noticed anything different about my behaviour. Mage Redmor was full of self-congratulations, while my mother was relieved that my displeasing behaviour had been removed, and Father spent most of the meal speaking to Jaran. I wasn’t sure whether he even knew I was present. My skin itched and I pushed at the bracelet through my sleeve. I couldn’t wait to remove that, either.

  As soon as was decent, I asked to be excused. Father agreed and Mother smiled at me, pleased by my soft-spoken, docile request. Once out of sight, I hurried to my room.

  The door had barely shut before I grabbed under the bed for the plain clothes that would help to conceal my identity. As I changed clothes, I wrenche
d Mother’s bead bracelet from my arm, rubbing the skin beneath it. The pain had subdued to an itch and there was no mark on my skin. But I breathed deeply in relief when it was gone and stuffed the beads into a drawer. I didn’t know why Mother had given it to me, but my magic didn’t like it – and nor did I.

  I tightened the sash around my waist and swirled the short cloak over my dress. Ready to face the city, I crept to the door. Night had fallen during dinner and there was no time to waste. I needed to reach Lyo before he tried to reach the palace.

  I opened the door. And came face to face with a guard. “Do you need something, Princess?”

  “Not a thing.” I slammed the door in his face.

  Patrols had been increased. What a fool I was to think that wouldn’t mean inside the palace, as well as out.

  I turned my attention to the window. I wasn’t Lyo with his acrobatic skills, but surely I could get out that way? As soon as I was on the other side of the wall I’d change my face, and then I’d be safe.

  I pulled the shutters wide and tugged up the window, swallowing when I stared down. The lawn below seemed very far away. Strong, I reminded myself.

  I was half out of the window, scanning the walls to see whether I could get down without help, when a shrill whistle pierced the silence. It was followed by the sound of running feet: booted, guards’ feet. Shouting broke out inside the palace. I ducked back into my room, my heart beating with fear. It couldn’t be Lyo. It wasn’t allowed to be Lyo.

  I wrenched my door open. My tongue was thick with fear. I could barely get the words out. “What’s happened?”

  The guard wasn’t smiling now, his face deadly serious as he destroyed all my hopes. “They’ve found the thief. The one who stole the king’s dragonette.”

  Lyo – The Scent of Magic

  Impatience. His brother and sister both complained that he was too prone to the trait. Not that they could rightly talk. They all knew what it was like to be so close to a thing and yet be deprived of it.