There was a natural flow of people from the main hall out into the courtyard and I shivered in the cold of the air, my dress not up to holding off the lingering chill of the fading winter. Rue started to take off his surcoat for me, but Aien placed his coat around me first. Rue shrugged, sliding me the shadow of a smile before pushing his way into the crowd. Aien’s arm rested on my back, using his greater size to protect me in the movement of eager courtiers. It was a breathless crush until we passed out from under the balcony and the crowd spread out. The courtyard was already busy with people. Every servant and guard within the castle it seemed, from the lowest rat catcher through to the captain of the guard had gathered to gawk at the frozen monsters. The wagons that had been used to bring them to Nerith had to have been specially made, as the monsters were massive in scale, easily as big as my father and siblings in dragon form. That was not something that I had realized before
Aien did not want to talk to me and actively avoided doing so, locking his door each night, and either leaving in the morning before me or, when I tried to out-rise him, stubbornly refusing to leave his room until I was forced away by my own embarrassment at being caught by the servants scratching at his door like the distraught rejected lover that I was.He did, however, spend a lot of time in the training courtyard, practicing his sword skills with anyone who shared the grounds with him, attending classes although he did not need to do so as he was meant to be preparing for the campaign, and I even saw him attempt the gauntlet several times. If he saw me, he would turn the other way, and I wasn’t sure what was worse, the pain in my heart at his rejection, or the embarrassment that surely everyone had noticed.I concentrated on preparations for the campaign in order to distract myself and make his abandonment of me less noticeable. There was much to do, I found. Not only were there n
“In this…” Daerton said anxiously to me.All around us in the grey dawn light, those joining the campaign hurriedly added their last belongings to the wagon caravan, whilst the knights and their squires adjusted their saddlebags and weaponry. I saw Aien, the hood of his cloak pulled up around his face, cross the courtyard to the wagon behind mine, throwing a bundle of clothing into the back before climbing onto the seat next to the driver. They talked casually as they waited, and I saw Aien offer the driver sunflower seeds from a bag.He did not look my way. I did not know if he knew I was in the wagon, or if the arched canvas cover of the tray hid me from his sight. “I know,” I told Daerton, focusing on the mage and not the man I loved. “The anti-venom for the spider creatures.”“And this…”“I know, Daerton,” I told him gently, placing my hand over his. “I have listened and paid attention to the entire process. I know what each vial contains.”“Of course, you do,” he said, meeting
Derien Verstarjen’s stronghold was nestled in the one pass through the mountains. It had originally been built as a human military point when they had been forcing the Fae from the lands. The Fae had, however, not lingered on the other side of the mountain range but followed its curve toward the coast. The land on the other side of the mountains had become little more than a wilderness as a result, with a few small villages clinging on, isolated between the Fae forests no wise human would traverse and this intimidating mountain stronghold with its temperamental and murderous owner.The road up to the stronghold revealed its lack of use in the overgrowth of weeds and deep potholes. It would not have been an easy journey, even if the road had been well maintained, as it was steep and winding, picking its way through the ramble of the rocky terrain. We were forced to dismount the wagons to ease the load on the horses and make our way on foot, the stones slipping beneath our feet and dust
The open doors shed light into the chamber hopefully before fading away into shadow as if unable to combat the darkness of the mage who lived within, and our footsteps echoed hollowly. There were more statues in the entry hall. Servants I assumed, who had been turned to stone due to the displeasure of their master.A large, grand fireplace stood cold, and the torches on the wall had long burned out. The chill of the mage’s magic, I realized. A chill that probably prevented the grand fireplace from being lit. I had heard of such things occurring, where the magic was steeped with profound sorrow and grief, usually accompanied by the presence of shades.Drifts of dust scattered under the movement of air through the door, and along the wall, I saw several rodents pause in their scurry to sniff at us, evaluating our threat to their missions, before dismissing us and continuing along their paths.Derien stood on the first landing of the staircase and for the first time swept back the hood
“It is a shame that there is no lady’s maid,” Tarragon observed. “A dragon’s braid is hardly the height of Fae fashion.” “You are doing very well,” I told her. In the polished metal of the looking-glass, I could see that she had started the braids over my ears, in several thicknesses, and was winding them back into each other. “Father would be proud.” She flashed me a grin in the reflection. “It is a pity you will not let me use any of the pins,” she returned her eyes to her work. “I understand why, but they would look fair in your hair.” I had explored the various dainty little boxes on the dresser and the drawers, finding pins and other trinkets that a lady would use to do her hair and decorate it, as well as the remains of cosmetics and perfumed water. In one drawer were miniatures of the family – a little folding frame. On one side was a very pretty woman with Aien’s eyes. To the other, a little boy whose face was lit with rosy-cheeked happiness. Aien - before the loss of his mo
Tarragon did not give me the option to argue, catching me by the elbow and propelling me down the stairs at a pace that took all of my concentration not to fall. Before I knew it, we were entering the grand hall of the keep. There were swags of sweet-scented greenery, flowers woven into long chains, and tables heavy with tablecloths, candles, and platters of food.Considering the state of the household when we arrived, Derien had used some magic to transform the chamber, making it what it had been before tragedy had struck the household despite his earlier cautions that the household would not wait upon us.I wondered at his change of attitude.Not all those gathered were from the campaign. Many were from the villages at the base of the mountains from their clothing and as I had not seen their faces before. They looked terrified. Had Derien abducted the poor villages from their homes and forced them to attend? Why?The mage sat in the head chair upon the raised dais, a table that held
I hurried to the room and removed the dress with a sense of relief, inspecting it carefully to ensure that no wine or blood soiled its fabric, before folding it and wrapping it again, as I had received it. I placed the package in a chest at the base of the bed, finding other clothing stored within. I packed up Tarragon and my possessions, anticipating that we would no longer be welcome at the stronghold. I hoped that Derien Verstarjen would not prevent us from continuing and braced myself for my sister’s ire when she returned to the room. Through the window, I could see the slow retreat of torches toward the village as the villagers made their way home. It took longer than I had thought before the door handle turned. “Dae,” Tarra said as she entered. “Put only what you can hold into this bag,” she held out a satchel of the type that our family used when riding dragon-back. “Tarra…?” I asked uncertainly as I took the bag from her. “Cara will take you to the village on the other sid
“No,” Ecaeris looked at me in surprise. “No Daethie, I don’t believe you are meant to die. I didn’t believe that Tarragon was destined for death, either. Do you think so little of us all – the Fae royal family, your own parents – to think that we would send Tarragon, your brothers, yourself, and Aien blithely off to die? No,” she reached out and gripped my shoulder. “If that had been in our thoughts, we would have come on the campaign and done all that we could to protect you all.” “Oh,” I crumpled, weeping. “Oh, Daethie,” Ecaeris shook me slightly. “Foolish children,” she tsked. “You never told Tarragon,” I pointed out. “She has thought all this time that the lamb would die to end the slaughter, but there is no end...” Ecaeris winced and blew out a breath. “We did not anticipate that she would interpret the prophecy in such a way, and the intention behind keeping that part to ourselves was to keep the population hopeful whilst we trained her to fulfill her role. She never spoke to
We arrived at the stronghold with Shara landing heavily in the courtyard now bare of statues. Shara waited for us to dismount before returning to the air, making the flight back towards the camp. I wondered what she had made of our conversation – she would have heard every word that Aien and I had said, and yet she had remained silent, allowing us to speak with the illusion of privacy.We were immediately surrounded by concerned servants. Much had changed at the stronghold I saw as we were hastened up into the hall. It was clean, the shutters open to admit the light, and the fires and torches lit. There were vases heavy with greenery, bright tapestries on the walls and rugs beneath our feet. The scent of food cooking made my stomach rumble.The stronghold had come alive, like the statues from the courtyard.It was not to Aien’s mother’s chamber that I was led but another, less grand, but only just, and it was more than ample for my needs. In the busyness of the maids who hastened to t
I woke with Aien wrapped tightly around me. I closed my eyes tightly against the day and buried my face into his chest, determined to stay and appreciate the warmth for as long as possible. We had arrived back to camp deep into the night, too dazed with exhaustion to do more than stagger into the tent and fall into the nest that he had built…“Why a nest?” I murmured.“What?” He was groggy with sleep, his movements languorous as he shifted against me, drawing me even closer as if he sought to press me within his very skin and bone.“This isn’t a bed,” I told him. “It’s a nest, such as female dragons build for…” I trailed off, vulnerable. It had always been my most dominant dragonish trait, the one behavior that was all instinct and had not been learned.Tarragon had never shown that particular inclination and Shara was too young. Our brothers and father were male, and it had always been a female dragon trait – the males built treasure hordes, whilst female dragons built cozy nests in
There were far too many, I thought in panic, and they seemed to keep coming from the trees in an endless stream. The small monsters the size of a big man like my father in man-form were so quick, whilst the larger ones followed behind, their dragon-size intimidating.I propelled myself up and forward with my wings, meeting the front-line of the small monsters beyond the ring of stones, as far from Tarragon as I could. The blade of my sword flashed as I landed amongst them. It took a moment for those at the front to turn, and I was already in the thick of sharp legs, snapping mandibles, and spiny carapaces.The moves that I had learned by rote in Nerith but had never mastered flowed through me effortlessly. I dodged, and dove, slicing with Intuin Desparen, carving through legs and bodies, spraying blood and gore in heavy streams that arced from the tip of the blade and rained back down over me, covering me in the foul liquid.As the larger creatures reached the battle, I broke free, so
I ignored Tarragon, and she sighed in heavy disapproval. “So stubborn,” she muttered in dragon. “You get that from our mother.”“With the four of you on one side, and Shara on the other, I have to be stubborn, or I’d never get my way,” I pointed out.She laughed, the tension between us breaking, and then pulled her horse to a standstill. “Do you hear that?” She asked, barely at a whisper.“Hear what?” I listened intently. The trees around us were still and silent. The rustle of the dried leaf matter and the music of leaves and branches, as the wind stirred through the forest, seemed overly loud. “There are no birds,” I whispered the words realizing that these sounds were normally muted by the ever-moving wildlife. It was as if everything living in the area had left. “There are no creatures in the trees.”“Yes,” she murmured it quietly. “Frightened away or eaten? Dae,” she added solemnly. “I think that we are very close. This may be your last chance…”I raised my eyebrows. “Stubborn, r
It took a while to pack clothing, bandages, and medical supplies into bags that Rue, Caraway, and Perditha could carry. We rigged straps around Valerian in dragon form in case either Rue or Caraway lost consciousness during the journey. Whilst a dragon was capable of catching a falling rider mid-air, the maneuver required to do so could unseat other passengers. We contemplated having Valerian carry Caraway or Rue in his claws, but doing so for such a long time would cause cramps and impact Valerian’s ability to land carefully enough for his other passengers.Rue and Caraway protested being tied to Valerian’s back like babes, but Perditha and I would have none of it, and they sulked as they knotted the ropes around them. Still, I saw both grip their bindings for support as Valerian, heavy with so many passengers, leaped into the air.The wind of Valerian’s wing strokes blew back my hair and sent my skirts to snapping around my legs and in the field I saw Aien and the few workers who re
I woke against Aien’s chest, and for a moment thought that we were back in the farmhouse. I was warm and comfortable curled up with him, his heartbeat under my palm and his steady breath stirring my hair. My mind drew a picture of our bedroom there, the sun bright through the window on the scuffed and bleached floorboards, the heavy wooden bed that creaked under our lovemaking, and the little fireplace with its stack of wood laid by ready for a cold day.But the sounds did not match my memory. There was no sound of a farm waking, no birdcall from the trees, the goats complaining about captivity, and chickens squawking about their morning eggs. No, there was the ever-present flap of canvas in the wind, the creak of rope straining under the pressure, and the distant whisper of the river.We were at the camp, I realized as the softness of dream faded into reality. We were at the camp on campaign, and I was in Aien’s little nest in the entrance to Rue’s tent. I would need to rise soon and
The night was not still, and my tears were interrupted by the sounds of tents being dismantled, hasty whispers and rustles, followed by the creak of wagons and the hollow fall of horse-hooves. Aien and I both stilled, listening. A man called out, challenging those leaving, arguing that abandoning the campaign was cowardice. They called him a fool and encouraged him to join them before continuing undeterred. I gripped Aien’s shirt in both fists and leaned my forehead against the warmth of his chest. He stroked his hands up and down my back. “Perhaps…” He said into my hair. “Tomorrow we may go too, Daethie…?” “Perhaps.” I didn’t want to think about the morning. Lying pressed against Aien, feeling his body against mine with just the finest layers of cloth between us made me ache for him. I was not alone, his desire evident where our tangled legs brought our hips together. I slowly lifted my head, looking up at him. His hand shook as he stroked my hair back from my face and his face sof
Tarragon was drunk.The knights and camp followers who had gathered around the fire to ease their weariness with food and ale clustered on the opposite side of the flames to where she sat staring into the glowing embers, a jug of spirit held in one hand. Her dragon-nature was on full display in her stillness, the flames echoed in her eyes, and her jaw grimly set.It took a considerable amount of effort and alcohol for a dragon to become intoxicated. I had only ever seen my father tipsy on a few rare occasions, and never morosely so. When our father drank enough to affect himself, he would speak freely of his past, his childhood, and his people, sing the refrains of ancient songs that he only half-remembered, and then he would wrap his arms around our mother and whisper to her in Fae until they crept away to make another sibling for our family.My brothers and Tarragon regularly drank, but only into joviality, until they sang songs of war, or gambled ridiculous wagers, let their knight