The Dragon Princess

by Paris Hansch

  “Oh,” she feigned, glancing at the drop of blood. “We should see Elaine right away. I’m afraid we’ll be taking our leave, Councilor.” Adelia nodded at Jane and walked past him without a second glance.

  Councilor Dallan caught up in a few strides, easily hooking his arm through hers.

  “Allow me to escort you, then, my lady.”

  Adelia just pasted a smile on her face. Her teeth ground against each other, but at the very least, he didn’t say anything more. It was like a game to him to make her squirm, but she wasn’t planning on playing. Underneath all of his pride, she sensed uncertainty, as though he was unsure of himself—a man at a crossroads. But she didn’t wish to engage any more than she already had. As foul as he made her feel, Councilor Dallan was still a man of Anadrieth, and to pry into his business would be ill-mannered. Luckily, he released her at the infirmary with nothing more than a sly smile and a brief bow.

  Adelia entered, with Jane tagging along behind her, breathing a small sigh of relief to be rid of him. Activity wasn’t stagnant in this wing of the castle—there was always someone to be spoon-fed, bedspreads to be cleaned or techniques to be learned. However, the air grew even more stifling inside than it had been in the library.

  Adelia stood with her back pressed against the wall. Through a gap in the curtain, she spotted several figures strapped to their beds in the farthest corner, unintelligible sounds escaping their lips—the undesirables, as their people called them—permanent residents of the ward.

  They had each contracted an incurable illness that seemed to pick and choose their victims at random during adulthood. It quickly stole their sanity, rendering them nothing more than frothing lunatics for the remainder of their lives. Their skin became flaky and ashen, their eyes fading to a milky gray. These undesirables, in particular, were from noble families, though she almost thought it would be kinder to let them disappear, like the fate of every commoner who fell prey to the illness.

  A quiet breeze drifted through the room, but it did little to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. Adelia’s chest tightened, and her mouth hung open slightly in an attempt to breathe in relative comfort. The undesirables were making a racket now, reaching out in her direction and making horrible, screeching yowls.

  Several nurses went to quiet them down, but Adelia noticed that their empty eyes locked directly on her. More than once, the nurses had commented that the undesirables were livelier when she visited. She always felt an unending sense of despair coming from their direction. It was almost overwhelming today, but she pushed through. There was only one reason to come here.

  Elaine shuffled into the room, her back curved as if she was constantly carrying a stack of bricks. Her wrinkled hand flew left and right as her rough voice barked orders. Even at over seventy years old, she was still the only one who could run the place. Her nurses were skilled, but Elaine was one of a kind. She motioned for Adelia to wait. After she handed out her tasks, she hobbled over, taking Adelia’s hands in hers. At the sound of another gargled scream, they turned toward the undesirables.

  Elaine shook her head. “If I could help them, I would. What brings you in here, lass?”

  Adelia wiggled her cut finger, squeezing it slightly to push another drop of blood to the surface.

  “I was careless with my books.”

  Elaine snorted. “You, careless? Dragon dung. Not with your own young’uns.” She gestured to her bench, overflowing with unorganized bandages. Every time Adelia had attempted to rearrange them for her, she was scolded. “Help yourself. You don’t have to injure yourself every time you want to visit me, you know.”

  Adelia stuck out her lip. “Can’t you use your powers?” She had to see them again, just once more. She was sure that it was a key part of decoding the dragon script in her book—the last remaining evidence of the legendary spirit arts.

  The old woman’s eyebrow arched, pushing the wrinkles up along with it. “I ain’t your personal circus.”

  Adelia gripped her hands. “Please?”

  “Not a chance.”

  The door banged open. Two soldiers rushed through, carrying a third between them. Elaine immediately shuffled into action, pointing them to an empty bed.

  “How serious?”

  “We were training, and—”

  “Didn’t ask for your exposition, lad. I asked where he’s wounded.” Elaine ushered the men to the side and snapped her fingers toward Jane. “You, there, lass. Don’t just stand there; get me clean water.”

  Adelia blinked as Jane managed to squeak her affirmative before rushing off. She had forgotten that Jane was still here; she was so quiet, she blended into the background. But this was the perfect opportunity. Adelia sidled closer to the wounded man, poking her head around the two soldiers.

  There was an arrow embedded in his left foot. Elaine directed the soldiers to break off the shaft and take his boot off as the man gripped the side of the bed, whimpering. Jane lugged back a pail of water, the liquid sloshing over the floor as she heaved it onto the bedside table. Elaine shooed the soldiers away.

  “This is gonna hurt, lad.” She drew a small blade from her belt, opening the wound as the man let out a yelp through his teeth, beads of sweat running down his temples. Elaine slowly pulled out the metal arrowhead and dropped it straight into Jane’s hands, who suddenly looked as though she’d been handed a burning piece of coal.

  Adelia edged forward, leaning over the bed. She was going to do it, for sure; she wouldn’t have asked for the water otherwise. Elaine cupped the water in her hands, letting it drip onto the man’s foot. She placed her palms over the wound, closing her eyes.

  Adelia crouched, grasping the bedframe. Her face was less than a foot away. All for research, of course—she had to get a closer look. On the surface, Elaine’s withered hands were covering the wound so that there wasn’t anything to see. But Adelia could sense the woman’s intense concentration, and she could almost feel the flesh knitting together under her own fingertips. Water—the neutral elemental spirit that could both heal and destroy.

  Just like the ocean, Adelia thought.

  As Elaine finally pulled her hands away, the soldier’s wound was nothing more than a pink scar, and she collapsed back onto the bed behind her, panting heavily.

  Adelia was by Elaine’s side at once, wiping her brow with a cool cloth. She appeared weaker, as though the act had taken a few years from her. The room had gone strangely silent as the nurses stared at Elaine. Even Jane felt more nervous than usual. When Adelia glared back at them, they quickly returned to work, but the feeling of disdain still hung in the air. Adelia shook her head. She could understand jealousy, but to hate, to be afraid of something as beautiful as this didn’t make sense.

  Elaine didn’t seem to pay them any attention as she wagged a finger at the two soldiers. “Tell your general… to stop running everyone ragged. Piling up more accidents for me ain’t helping no one.”

  Adelia studied the men. On closer inspection, they did look exhausted. Malnourished, even. They just shook their heads, and she could feel their resignation. She pitied them. Of course, they couldn’t talk back to their superior. After they thanked her and left, Elaine sat up.

  Adelia glanced between her and Jane, then at the soldier on the bed. When they were all next to each other, it was strange. The man felt completely ordinary, like his aura was neutral. But Elaine and Jane felt similar. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was like there was an energy emanating from them was almost identical, even though they were two distinct people. It was calm and cool, like water. Adelia shook her head. What a silly thought. Still, she was dying to ask questions.

  “Were you—”

  “Don’t pester me now, lass.” Elaine rested her hand on her forehead. The undesirables were still making a racket, and her nurses were clearly failing to calm them down. “You should probably go.” Elaine nodded at Jane. “Not you. I need an extra pair of hands.”

  Adelia’s heart sank. “Just one questio
n?”

  Elaine rolled her eyes, giving her an expectant look.

  Adelia thought for a moment. “Were you born with, you know…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, though she didn’t know why, “…the spirit arts?”

  “Nay.”

  “Then how—”

  “One question.”

  Adelia pursed her lips. “You didn’t answer properly.”

  Elaine sighed. “Don’t know how it works. One day, I couldn’t. The next day, I met someone, and then suddenly, I could. Like it was awakened or something.” She stood, checking over the man’s scar. “That’s all you get, so you better be satisfied.”

  A grin spread across Adelia’s face. “All I needed!” she said, sprinting from the infirmary as fast as she could, heading straight back for her room. Elaine would never have used a word like ‘awaken’ unless it meant something, and to Adelia, it did. Awyviene must be dragon tongue for ‘awaken.’ It fit.

  Adelia raced into her room, papers flying everywhere. She flipped back to the page on which she was stuck all night, and there it was. Awyviene syra artse. Awaken the spirit arts. Adelia couldn’t stop smiling. She finally had a lead.

  But if the spirit arts were awakened, who was the someone that did the awakening?

  Chapter Four

  Alexander

  Lord Alexander sat across from Councilor Raoul—the man he entrusted with Anadrieth’s treasury and trading routes—as he droned through his report. Councilor Raoul’s enormous figure bulged from the sides of the chair. Rumor had it, his unfortunate seamstresses struggled to keep up with his ever-expanding girth. Alexander fidgeted uncomfortably. In a meeting room this small, Councilor Raoul occupied most of the space.

  “Allocating most of our gold to prepare for war has effectively drained our most abundant resource,” said Raoul, rubbing a meaty finger along his face. “Our miners stationed in the Jade Mountains can’t sustain this rate of consumption, even with sole access. Nor will it be any easier to trade between regions moving forward. Lysanthir prefers to keep to themselves, considering the current tension between them and Calvera. And Calvera, of course, has closed their trade to us entirely following their alliance with Lanadrin.”

  As he leaned back, the chair groaned. “Which means our weaponry and resources will remain inferior, though I’ll defer to the good general, if he should so happen to arrive in a timely manner. In other news, our education is at peak standard since my son—”

  The door burst open, and General Barrett entered. Although he appeared somewhat frazzled, his hair still sat neatly tied at the back of his collar, and the state of his uniform was impeccable—the only wrinkles present were around his eyes, and they weren’t from laughter. General Barrett gave a swift bow.

  “My deepest apologies, my lord. I was held up by my foolish son, who always seems to disappear at the most inopportune times.” He lowered himself into his seat like he had a rod in his spine. “However, my report remains the same as it has been. My men are training day and night, including the crowcodile trainers, but there’s a limit to their improvement. We’ve increased patrols throughout the city to counter rising crime, but it’s had little effect. If we don’t bring back the noose, I don’t think people will get the message.”

  Alexander frowned. It had taken him years to convince them to move away from his grandfather’s methods, but they had never quite let go of the past. “I don’t believe that’s—”

  “An excellent idea!” exclaimed Councilor Raoul. “It would deter those commoners and help us manage the number of mouths to feed, killing two crowcodiles with one arrow. We don’t want a repeat of what happened with her.”

  General Barrett paled slightly. “Don’t speak of it,” he hissed. “It’s a bad omen.” In all the years that Alexander had known him, she was the only subject of which he seemed to be fearful. Perhaps he felt responsible for their losses, or perhaps he was simply afraid of the unknown influence that the Mistress seemed to hold.

  “Calm yourself, my good man.” Councilor Raoul slapped a heavy hand on the general’s shoulder. To his credit, Barrett didn’t flinch under the weight. “The Mistress hasn’t been heard of for over a decade. Surely, those Celestial Assassins would have long disposed of filth like that.”

  Alexander nodded. Councilor Raoul had a good point, as usual, though one could never be too sure. But she was hardly their priority now.

  General Barrett cleared his throat, ignoring Raoul. “Where’s Councilor Dallan? He’s been unusually absent these last few months, and he’s definitely not on a diplomacy trip this time.”

  Alexander waved a hand. “I spoke with him just this morning, and he’s taken leave on an important errand. Regarding the death penalty, we don’t have time for that to take effect.” He laid Lord Tamar’s war declaration on the table with a grim smile. “And I’d rather not lose any more of my citizens to needless violence.”

  Councilor Raoul took one glance at it and turned up his nose, his untrimmed hairs in full view.

  “Ah, just as I predicted it would turn out all along. Unfortunate.”

  General Barrett narrowed his eyes, but the rest of his face didn’t move. “Weren’t you saying you were certain you could placate Lord Tamar with a generous trade agreement?”

  “That was merely a front to appease the whole council. I suspect a traitor in our midst.”

  “Yet, the only one always saying two different things is you.”

  Councilor Raoul bristled, and Alexander interjected. “Councilor Dallan has provided a solution, however. One which is already in progress.” He quickly detailed the proposal that he’d sent to the Lord of Eloria.

  “Wonderful. I was about to suggest the very same myself,” said Raoul, nodding.

  “Of course, you were,” muttered General Barrett, turning away from the councilor. “And I hope that servant girl will be accompanying your sister.”

  Alexander steeled himself. Their council was always valuable, but he had to draw the line somewhere.

  “About that—”

  “For once, I agree with the general.” Councilor Raoul scratched the folds of his neck, pulling the tight cloth away from his skin. “Have I introduced you to my cousin’s daughter? She’s a pretty little thing. Adores you, too.”

  Alexander didn’t object. It wasn’t the time to cause another dispute, and certainly not within his council. As they continued their meeting, the feeling in the pit of his stomach grew, and it wasn’t from his lunch. If he let his sister go, Mina wouldn’t have much of a reason to stay in Anadrieth. He could certainly order her to remain, though it was clear that the other servants were as fond of her as his councilors were. On the other hand, he couldn’t afford to be looking over his shoulder to protect her while fighting off the Lanadese at the same time. She would be safer in Eloria with his sister.

  “This is all the capital’s fault,” exclaimed Councilor Raoul. “If they would just crown Prince Yukiya already, he would have the authority to make decisions and set the empire straight.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s like we’re the only council in the empire actually doing something.”

  “Don’t scoff about the importance of tradition.” General Barrett straightened his back. “The empire is nothing without it. However, I do agree. If the imperial bloodline had done its job, the princess wouldn’t be the only blood heir left.”

  “Or they could just accept that she’s dead and move on,” said Councilor Raoul. “The only heir goes missing right before she’s able to ascend the throne for two whole years? It’s clearly foul play.”

  General Barrett wagged a finger at him. “No, she’s alive. You forget, there cannot be one without another. His Imperial Highness passed only a few months after our empress, may their spirits rest in peace.”

  “Coincidence,” spat Councilor Raoul.

  “Check your history books. It’s happened every time.”

  Alexander sighed. They were bound to keep going for a while. Even though he spent a great deal of his time
sitting down, the hours upon hours of meetings took their toll. He had no interest in the affairs of the capital unless they directly affected Anadrieth. There was too much to worry about without wasting his energy on the empire’s problems, as well.

  After the councilors had finished, the nobles had arrived to take it in turn to eloquently describe to him all of their woes and petty complaints. Then, he had to settle several disputes between high-ranking merchants regarding land and their gold—a volatile combination. Next, the guards had arrived with a few arrested citizens in tow for his final decision on their punishments. Afterward, the matron had come to him with a list of problems regarding the festival preparations. And then, he had almost tripped over a chandelier—an actual chandelier, properly secured in the ceiling, which had mysteriously decided that today was the day it would collapse.

  What a day.

  He could feel his eyes shutting already, and he still had several things to do, as no one else seemed capable enough to do them. Perhaps he could get a few minutes of sleep first. Alexander trudged back to his room, but before he could open the door, heavy footsteps echoed down his hall. He turned to see his little sister bounding up to him, her cheeks flushed.

  “Alexander,” she said, waving an open book in his face. “I’ve got an idea. Allow me to go to the capital and—”

  Alexander put a hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t run through the halls like that.” He couldn’t count the number of times she’d tripped on the uneven stones, and it certainly wasn’t ladylike behavior.

  Adelia shook her head. “Sorry, but you have to see this—” She thrust the book in his face, and he peered at it.

  “Not this again.” He was too tired to even try to understand the pages in front of him; they weren’t even written in proper words. It could very well be children’s scribbles she’d found and convinced herself were some made-up ancient language, and he didn’t have the energy to entertain her. When his sister’s face fell, he patted her on the head. “Another time. I promise.”