The Dragon Princess

by Paris Hansch

  The Celestine Forest soon gave way to a small clearing, the silverlight trees and snow forming a visible borderline of white. On the other side, lush green meadows blanketed the landscape, the tiny flowers dotting the Elorian ground with color. Anton couldn’t help but stare, and he wasn’t the only one. He’d never been to this side of their border, and it was certainly something to see. The Moonstone River separated Anadrieth and Lanadrin, so the bordering region wasn’t as visible, but here, there was nothing but an open field—it was almost as if someone had drawn a line between the two regions, and nature itself had listened.

  He dismounted and stood with one foot in Anadrieth and the other in Eloria. He’d never seen so much green. It was such a strange color, and he could almost feel the life radiating from it. Anton kicked some of the snow across, and it melted almost instantly. It was even a little warmer on the other side.

  An unladylike shout echoed from behind him. His little sister was leaning as far out of the carriage window as she could manage, getting tangled in the curtains but not seeming to care. Her momentary excitement sent a pulse of warmth through his chest.

  Brother, can we stay out here?

  You mean run away? We can’t leave Alexander.

  We’ll go get him, and then the three of us can go explore the world!

  Anton shook his head. They weren’t kids anymore. Even if he could rewind time, it was an impossible dream.

  Something whizzed past his ear, striking his horse’s flank and pulling him from his thoughts. He turned as she whinnied, just in time for her to rear up and kick him in the stomach. He hit the ground hard, unable to draw breath. Through his watery vision, he saw that a flaming arrow had pierced his horse, and more arrows were flying through the sky.

  Ambush!

  Anton tried to shout, but he couldn’t. There was frantic movement all around him as swords were drawn and shields were raised. Toward the tree line, large figures poured from the north, pulling off white cloaks that had camouflaged their skin. Shouts echoed across the clearing, and the Anadese huddled together defensively.

  “Get in formation!” Alexander cried.

  “It’s the Lanadese!”

  “Barbarians!”

  Several arrows struck the carriage, and as the curtains caught fire, his sister screamed. A dozen Lanadese were suddenly upon them. Anton clawed at the ground to pull himself up and drew his sword just in time to block the axe aimed at his head. His arm shook under the strain, and his breath came in short gasps. His eye was playing up again, and his nose was still running.

  The huge man before him grinned. The unmistakable Lanadese crest was displayed prominently on his chest amongst the many inked designs. The barbarian swept his leg, knocking Anton off balance and flinging his sword from his grasp.

  Anton crashed to the ground face-first once more, tasting blood and dirt. His vision blurred, and his thoughts were muddled. He rolled out of the way just as an axe struck the ground beside him, and his fingers scrambled for his sword. The man lunged for him, and Anton rolled again, swinging his sword blindly. To his surprise, the blade connected with the barbarian’s arm, but it didn’t faze the beast. Anton leaped to his feet and readjusted his wavering grip, his heart pounding in his ears.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his brother fighting off two barbarians at once on horseback. Bodies fell in every direction, shields flew across the snow in pieces and their screams filled his ears. The Lanadese were utterly slaughtering them, though some of their men were holding their own.

  The barbarian stalked toward him once more with a grin, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. He could see his parents’ bodies before him, warm and wet on the floor, their limbs twisted like marionette dolls. He felt the cold steel against his face, and the presence of the woman caressed his shoulder. Her long fingers wrapped around his neck as she whispered in his ear. Her voice was the only thing he could hear.

  You’re so brave.

  Anton’s feet moved without hesitation, and he launched himself at his opponent. He dodged the axe, feinting with his fist and bringing his sword upward to slice the barbarian’s thigh. All the while, the woman’s hand was on his, a gentle guide.

  The barbarian grimaced as he advanced, but Anton sidestepped his attack, using the opening to thrust the blade into his chest. The barbarian struggled for a moment, then slumped forward, landing on top of Anton.

  You’re so brave.

  They hit the floor together, and the woman’s fingers let go of his throat, her presence fading. Anton lay there, his jaw slack and his hands shaking. The man’s mouth was open, and his breath foul.

  He was dead. Anton had killed him. His stomach heaved, and he pushed the body off in a burst of effort. He had ended someone’s life—with his own two hands. He sat up in a daze, trembling.

  “Anton!” Alexander dashed through the field of bodies, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. “Are you all right?”

  Anton couldn’t respond. A flash of imperial white and gold caught his eye as it disappeared through the trees. It looked like a scout, but as a high-pitched scream in the other direction drew their attention, he didn’t have time to think about it.

  The last barbarian was advancing on his sister, and Anton was sprinting before he realized it. The barbarian drew a short sword from his belt. Anton’s lungs were bursting. He had to get there. But he wasn’t going to make it.

  A blur knocked Adelia to the ground and rolled toward the barbarian in one swift motion—the servant girl—yanking his sword arm down with one hand and landing a strike on his temple with the other. He staggered, but she twisted his wrist back, slamming her hand into his elbow, producing an audible pop. The barbarian cried out, and she wrenched the short sword from his limp grip, slicing clean through his throat.

  Anton stopped a few paces away from her, his mouth hanging open. It couldn’t be. The servant girl let the barbarian fall back into the snow, and an eerie silence fell over the clearing. Impossible.

  The woman’s shadow was back, and she rested on his shoulder. She pressed her cold lips against his cheek, her fingers running across the scar on his face.

  Anton stepped toward the servant girl, slowly raising his sword. His vision was hazy. He blinked several times, but the servant girl’s appearance kept shifting. Tawny brown hair, taller than average, a soft smile from the most beautiful girl in the world—the face of the woman who had murdered his parents. Anton squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

  Not her, he whispered in his mind. It’s not her.

  The servant girl lowered the barbarian’s sword, giving him a quizzical look. “Are you all right?”

  Anton’s head throbbed. The girl’s face shifted back and forth. Back and forth. The only women trained to fight were assassins.

  “I knew it,” he said. The woman’s arm wrapped around his waist, her kindness a comforting blanket. His cheeks were burning.

  Not her.

  The servant girl cocked her head at him. “What do you know?”

  “Brother, what are you doing?”

  Anton felt Alexander come up, panting beside him, though it was like he was a mile away. The woman’s hand reached out to cup his, tightening his grip on the sword. Cold steel left a searing trail against his face, dragging over his eye. She wanted him to kill the servant girl, but her face kept morphing into one he couldn’t bear to see.

  Anyone but her.

  The woman murmured in his ear that he should start by carving his name into the servant girl’s flesh. That way, she would always remember whose blade it was from—Anton the Brave.

  “Anton!”

  A warm hand knocked the sword from his grasp. The woman’s presence left him. Adelia was shaking him by the shoulders, her eyes frantically searching his. Anton blinked. He could breathe again. The air felt crisper, cleaner. He met his sister’s gaze, and his feet seemed more grounded than they had been a moment ago.

  Adelia slowly let go of him, then took a big step
back, her eyes suddenly fixed on the floor. “Pull yourself together,” she said under her breath.

  Alexander was rubbing his forehead, one hand clenching and unclenching his sword. “It’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”

  “My lord!” One of his brother’s lieutenants ran up, limping with his left leg. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” said Alexander. “Search for survivors. Everyone else, gather anything essential. We need to move out now. It’s too dangerous to linger here. We’ll have to backtrack to the eastern outpost we passed around noon and figure out what to do from there.”

  Anton was finally able to look around. The pristine snow was marred by a crimson stain. Bodies from both sides lay everywhere, and it didn’t seem like anyone else made it out alive, except for Alexander’s horse, which was sniffing the body of another. The wagons were destroyed, and pieces of half-burnt wood littered the area. It was a narrow win but a devastating loss, all the same. If the Lanadese had sent even one or two more men, they might not have made it at all.

  They all trudged through the carnage. Anton was acutely aware of every sound, and he couldn’t help but flinch when Adelia flung open the carriage door. The lieutenant was checking over every barbarian to make sure that they were dead, but there were no more Anadese survivors. Anton almost lost his stomach when he came across one of their men’s heads. Almost their entire squad was taken out by a dozen Lanadese. If they had done this to strike fear into their people’s hearts, it was going to work.

  He picked up one of their axes, almost dropping it from the weight, before peering at the blackscale. It had a wide blade on one side and a narrow blade on the other. The metal was impossibly black, with thin, iridescent threads running through the blades. He gave it a few experimental swings before swinging it straight down onto a stray wooden shield, splitting it in half as if it hadn’t met any resistance at all. It was as close to a clean break as it could get. Anton shook his head. No wonder they had lost so badly.

  He kept the axe, heading back to the others. It was a pity that they wouldn’t be able to carry the rest of them, but it was heavy enough to take just one. Adelia was tucking the book she always carried in a pouch around her waist, and the servant girl had an axe over one shoulder and the short sword of her opponent in her other hand. He was not going to walk in front of her, that was for sure.

  Alexander handed his horse’s reins to the lieutenant. “Ride ahead to the outpost and have them meet us, then send word to the castle to get us back home.”

  “At once, my lord.”

  As the lieutenant disappeared into the forest, Alexander turned to the three of them. “We’ll have to go on foot and quickly. It’s probably a few hours trek back. There’s every chance there are more Lanadese out there, and it’s almost dusk. “

  They set out immediately, leaving the wreckage behind. Anton rubbed his arm as he walked. His episodes were returning and in full force. It had taken years for the shadows to leave him, but he guessed that they would never truly leave—like a disease that clung to his mind, a fungus that lay dormant, just waiting for the opportunity to consume him. Although, him didn’t quite exist anymore. Perhaps this was what it was like to turn into an undesirable. He tripped over a hidden glass-like root but caught himself before he fell. If he was fated to lose his mind in the end, there wasn’t really much to lose.

  Anton could hear the panting behind him as his sister stumbled her way through the snow with her silly book. She refused to look at him, concentrating, instead, on the ground. Her face was flushed, and she was clearly exhausted, but she was keeping up. He would certainly struggle in a dress, but his little sister was one of the most tenacious people he knew.

  Alexander was maintaining a steady pace just behind her, scanning their rear every so often. The servant girl was just ahead of them, scouting the forest. As she flitted between the trees, the weapons she held seemed as light as air.

  Anton gripped the heavy axe. His brother was blind not to execute her on the spot; even he could recognize a skilled assassin. He had seen her face when she did it—expressionless. That was the face of someone completing an errand, and it clearly wasn’t her first time killing another person. No wonder she was an awful servant; it’d clearly never been her day job. She was just like her. Maybe that’s why his episodes were returning—it was yet another reason to despise her.

  The outpost came into view as the last of the light disappeared behind the silverlight trees, casting threatening shadows along the ground. In the near-dark, the slightest movement startled him. Their men ran to meet them, helping them inside the tiny outpost.

  It wasn’t long before Anton sank into the bath, the steam clearing his mind. Now that he could relax for a moment, exhaustion hit him all at once. He massaged his jaw and inspected his body. Thankfully, the horse hadn’t broken anything, and the barbarian hadn’t managed to do any real damage. Besides a few dark bruises, he was all in one piece.

  “Mama… what do I do?” he whispered.

  The face of the man he had killed lingered when he shut his eyes, and the smell of his breath was still under his nose. He had never been out on more than a mundane patrol or done more than spar with the other men. Now, he was a killer. He didn’t seem to have much of a right to complain about the servant girl now. Alexander would, of course, assure him that it would mean nothing in due time, that it was either kill or be killed.

  Anton scrubbed the flecks of blood from his skin, rubbing it raw. He brushed away the little blue lights, which were more of an annoyance than a comfort right now. Perhaps those were just his imagination, too—the effects of his mind falling further into instability. Maybe his brother was right to keep him away from all of this and shelter their city from the horrors of battle. He had to admit that he hadn’t been able to pull himself together as well as his brother had.

  The door opened at the same time as he heard the knock. Alexander let himself in, grabbing a chair and sitting down beside the bath. Anton scrambled to pull his knees to his chest, the water sloshing around. He was having a bad enough day as it was, but now his brother probably wanted to lecture him, or worse, make small talk.

  “May I not have one moment of peace?” he growled.

  Alexander shook his head. “We need to talk. Are you okay, Brother?”

  Clearly, small talk it was. Anton turned his face to the wall so that Alexander wouldn’t see his eyes roll. He might not have been able to handle himself, but he didn’t need to be reminded of the fact. “I’m fine. If you came for a brotherly chat, I’d appreciate my time alone.”

  “I don’t believe you’re fine.”

  “I’m currently in the bath. Leave me alone.”

  Alexander ignored him, leaning forward with his elbow on his knee. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you.”

  Anton’s ears pricked up. He couldn’t have heard that correctly.

  “If I had just told you to stay in Anadrieth with everyone else, you wouldn’t have had to go through that,” Alexander continued.

  Anton almost slapped his forehead. “That’s not what I said at all.”

  “I’m just trying to protect you.” Alexander clasped his hands together. “And these… episodes still seem to affect you.”

  “If you didn’t keep pushing me aside, maybe I wouldn’t have reacted like that. Maybe I’d actually be able to fight by your side. Maybe I’d—”

  Alexander was suddenly in his face. “You almost died! It’s a miracle you were able to survive when the rest of my men are dead. I have to tell their families that I let their husbands and fathers die on my watch, but I would have had to live with your death.”

  Anton shook his head. “Sorry my death would cause you so much of a problem.”

  His brother clenched his teeth, letting out a breath. He sat back down in a deliberate motion, closing his eyes for a moment. “I can’t see you get hurt again.”

  “And yet, you keep that servant girl in our midst.”

 
; “She’s not—”

  Anton hit the water with his hand. “You saw her,” he hissed. “You can’t possibly tell me she’s not a danger to us.”

  “I will take care of it.”

  “There was even an imperial scout at the scene, and dragons knows how they’re involved in all of this. You don’t have everything under control, and that’s exactly why you should have let us help.”

  Alexander stood, his expression dark. “Your only job is to stay alive and safe. Can you manage that?”

  Anton stared at him in disbelief, almost letting out a laugh. “You’re not Mama,” he muttered. “So, don’t you dare try and act like her.”

  His brother opened his mouth but stormed out, instead, slamming the door behind him.

  Anton huddled in the bath for all but a few moments before launching himself out to get dressed. He didn’t bother drying himself properly, and his clothes stuck to his slick skin. He gripped his head. This was ridiculous. He was sure that if his brother had it his way, he and his sister would be locked in a cage. Anton took a few deep breaths before walking down the hall. It wouldn’t look good if anyone else saw him lose his composure.

  Raised voices echoed from the main room, and he crept closer. It sounded like his siblings. The door flung open, barely missing his face. Adelia burst out, shooting a glare behind her, then at him.

  “I don’t know who either of you are anymore, but you’re not my brothers.”

  Anton’s eyes widened, and Alexander emerged from the room, stalking off in the other direction. Adelia rarely lost her temper, unlike their brother, but Anton shook it off, heading straight for bed. He didn’t even know what he’d done this time. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten out of the bath. He collapsed into the pillows, exhaustion sending him into a restless sleep.