The Dragon's Curse

by Bethany Wiggins

  “Truly, legally, and inescapably.”

  “But I did not give my consent. I did not say ‘I do.’ I did not plight thee my troth, and I never shall!” My voice trembles with emotions I cannot name. I have never experienced these feelings before today. They take my hope and shatter it.

  “But Queen Felicitia did. She holds double stewardship over you, as your mother and your queen. It is a written law in your land that the queen can marry any of her subjects by proxy marriage, with or without the person’s consent, to further the good of the kingdom,” he says.

  A sheen of sweat coats my palms and my breathing accelerates. I was taught Faodara’s laws at an early age, and I remember this particular law well because of its unfairness. I cover my face with my icy hands and fight the sting of tears. “I do not want this,” I whisper.

  Treyose exhales. “I have been commander of my grandfather’s army since I was fifteen years old. Not once have I wanted to lead this army and watch hundreds upon hundreds of people lose their lives. But we are tools, you and I. We are used to do others’ bidding, to fulfill their desires and schemes. You, at least, are being used to spare lives. I have always been used to take them.” Were his voice that of a dragon, I would be killed by its venom.

  I lower my hands from my face and hang my head. “What of my betrothed?”

  “If you are wed to me, you are no longer betrothed to another.” His voice has lost its edge.

  A disturbance shudders through the army, like a stone has been thrown into a pond, making ring after ring of soldiers ripple out from its center. When the ripple reaches us, we stop riding and look toward the commotion. Two unknown riders have come upon the rear of the Trevonan soldiers. They are encircled by Trevonan archers, their bows drawn.

  Treyose turns his horse toward the new riders and we gallop forward. Instantly, I recognize them. It is Yerengul and Enzio. With their appearance, a tiny, fragile piece of hope returns to me.

  Treyose rides forward and stops in front of Yerengul and Enzio. “Stand down,” he orders his men, and the bows are lowered, but not put away. He turns to Yerengul and Enzio. “For the sake of this woman, I request you hold your tongues until we have privacy.” Yerengul looks at me, and then nods. “Follow me. Reyler, accompany us,” Treyose calls. We ride the horse to the head of the army, and then a little way beyond, before Treyose asks, “What business do you have with me?”

  “We have come for Sorrowlynn,” Yerengul says, his glare so sharp I can practically feel it slicing my skin. Reyler guides his horse closer to Treyose’s and places his hand on his sword hilt.

  “You and what army?” Treyose asks, voice quiet.

  “She is sworn into the horse clan, and I have pledged to protect her until she is united with my brother Golmarr,” Yerengul says. “Our army will come for her, and so will the Faodarian army, once Lord Damar’s wound has been treated.”

  Treyose’s arm tightens around me. “Damar lives?”

  Yerengul nods.

  “Damar’s army might come, but the Antharian army will not. Have you spoken to your king? I dispatched a letter to him this morning.”

  “When I left my father in the middle of the night, the only thing we had received from you was my eldest brother’s body. The Antharian army is making preparations to follow me.”

  Treyose lifts his left hand—the one that has been holding the reins—and flicks it in a series of Antharian hand signals so fast I barely see them. Though I have been taught the Antharian hand speak, I do not recognize what Treyose said. Yerengul’s fierce glare falters, turns to confusion, and then shock as he studies Treyose. “Now you understand I am working with your brother. I swear on my life that I will not harm Princess Sorrowlynn,” he adds. “I am not your enemy. So, unless you want to risk the wrath of your own brother, I suggest you take your leave. If you do not, I cannot protect you against my army.”

  Yerengul looks from me to Enzio and shakes his head. “I cannot stay,” he says.

  Enzio’s nostrils flare with anger. “Why not?”

  “Prince Treyose is working with one of my brothers. To fight him will be to go against my own flesh and blood.” He grips Enzio’s arm. “Stay with her,” he pleads, and then he looks at me one last time before turning his horse east.

  “Wait,” Treyose calls.

  Yerengul glares at him. “I do not take orders from Trevonan princes.”

  “Make sure your people know I am not working against Anthar in this,” Treyose says. “And I did not kill Prince Ingvar. Lord Damar did.”

  Yerengul clenches his teeth, holding in the fury burning behind his eyes. He leans over his horse’s neck and gallops away, and I am left staring at the trail of dust left in his wake.

  “What did you tell him with your hand?” I ask. What gesture does this Trevonan prince know that will convince the horse clan to abandon me? I wonder.

  “You claim to be part of the horse clan, but you do not know the Antharians’ hand talk?” Treyose asks.

  “I have been taught all their battle signals, but I have never been taught what you just did.”

  “Then you are not supposed to know what it means.”

  “And how do you know it?” I ask.

  “The prince I am working with taught it to me. It was his secret hand signal I gave Yerengul.”

  Golmarr has eight brothers. I try to think why one of them would work with Treyose and have me wed to him, when they knew I was planning on marrying Golmarr.

  Treyose points at Enzio. “By the look of you, you are a Satari forest dweller. Why would Yerengul of Anthar ask you to stay with Sorrowlynn? I know you are not her sweetheart because she has told me so many times she is betrothed to Golmarr of Anthar. So what allegiance do you owe her?”

  Enzio dismounts and kneels beside Treyose’s horse. “You are correct that I am a humble Satari forest dweller, from the band called the Black Blades. I beg of you, let me stay with Sorrowlynn. She is my cousin, and I owe her my mother’s life. I have vowed to protect her until the debt is repaid.”

  “I am not a prince who makes people grovel at his feet,” Treyose snaps. “Stand, man. If you wish it, you can come with us. But know this. I was sincere when I said I mean Sorrowlynn no harm. You must give me your solemn vow you will do as you are told while in my company. If you do not, you will forfeit your life.”

  Enzio climbs to his feet and a calculating gleam flashes in his blue eyes. “So long as you do not harm Sorrowlynn, or command me to do anything to put her at risk, I will do what you ask for now.”

  “Then mount up. We are still half a day’s hard ride from Arkhavan.” Treyose shifts behind me and then something comes over my head and settles around my ribs. Rope. I gasp and try to pull it off, but he yanks it tight around my waist and then cinches it into a knot. I am bound to him, and my hope of escape is destroyed.

  * * *

  We travel until the sun sets, its last orange rays lighting up a horizon of houses built so closely together, they look like a single structure divided only by the narrow roads that snake between them. A black stone wall as tall as a house surrounds the city. Arkhavan, the memories encased in my conscience whisper. Arkhavan is the city where Golmarr is rumored to be. It is the seat of the Royal Library of Trevon. If I escape Treyose, maybe I can find Golmarr…and tell him what? I have been wed to another, his brother died trying to protect me, and at least one dragon is coming for me? He will hate me more than ever.

  We ride a short distance from the army, and Treyose reigns in the horse. “Reyler,” he calls. The slender nobleman rides to us, and Treyose leans in close to him. “I need you to wait until morning to bring the troops inside the wall. Set up camp here,” he whispers. He pulls up the hood of his cloak, which I am still wearing, so my face is hidden deep in shadow. “I will enter the city tonight with Princess Sorrowlynn. Before sunrise, I will return and we will com
e inside together. I do not want my grandfather to know I have returned until tomorrow.”

  Reyler studies my face, hidden beneath the cloak, before nodding. “Yes, my lord. I will see to it.” He unfastens his dark gray cloak and hands it to Treyose. “Although there is no point trying to sneak her in if everyone sees you.”

  “Thank you.” With the hand missing half a finger, Treyose takes the cloak. He puts it on and fastens it, pulling the hood so it hides his face.

  Something is very wrong. “Why are you sneaking me into your city, especially if I am your new bride?”

  Treyose’s body grows so taut behind mine, it feels as if I am leaning against stone. “My grandfather, King Vaunn, is not kind to women. I would protect you from him. Enzio, I assume you will insist on coming with us?”

  Enzio nods, and his worried eyes meet mine.

  “Then I need your weapons,” Treyose says.

  Enzio laughs and shakes his head. “I think not, sir. A Satari man without his blade is like a sky without stars—unnatural and undesirable.”

  Treyose gestures at his army of one thousand. “Do you truly think you have a choice in the matter? Hand over your weapons and come with me, or I will have my one thousand men watch you for the night. The choice is yours.”

  Enzio’s face grows stony, but he unhooks his belt and removes his short sword and scabbard and hands them to Treyose.

  “The knife in your sleeve, too,” Treyose says.

  “What knife?”

  Treyose laughs. “I have been commander of the Trevonan army for ten years. You cannot pull the wool over my eyes so easily.” He holds his hand out. “Give me the knife now, or stay with my army tonight.”

  Enzio growls and slides the knife from his sleeve. He tosses it in the air and catches it by the blade, and then hands it pommel-first to Treyose.

  Treyose looks at the black stone blade and frowns. “This is the twin blade to the one I took from Sorrowlynn.”

  Enzio nods. “Those blades were wielded by my ancestors before they were forced to flee the kingdom of Satar more than a century ago.”

  Treyose studies the blade more closely. “This is one of the fabled Black Blades that cannot be broken?”

  “It is, and I would like your oath that you will return both of them to Sorrowlynn and me.”

  “I swear to return your blades,” Treyose says, sliding it into his belt. “Follow me. We only have a few minutes before the city gate is shut for the night.”

  We pass through a wide opening in the wall and into the city while I’m still tied to Treyose. He chooses dark, deserted streets for us to follow, and when anyone looks our way, he hangs his head so the cloak shadows his face. I should be dwelling on escape plans, but all I can worry about is how I am going to avoid our wedding night. Even with his armor pressed tight between us, shielding my body from his, I am repulsed by his closeness.

  Soon, the castle, located in the heart of the city, comes into view. It is made of slick black granite that reflects the light off the torches lit in the inner bailey. Silhouetted against the starry sky is a tower so tall I have to crane my neck all the way back to see the top. I know there is a massive copper bell in the tower, hidden from view by the darkness. Beside the bell tower is the Royal Library. It is so close, and yet it has never been as out of reach as it is at this moment.

  We are stopped by guards at the gates to the inner bailey. When Treyose lifts his hood enough for one man to see who he is, the gate is opened, and we are quietly ushered inside. No grooms or pages come to assist the prince. We are like ghosts.

  Treyose cuts the rope binding me to him, but not before taking a firm grip on the back of my tunic. Enzio steps forward to help me dismount, but Treyose blocks my cousin. “I do not trust you,” Treyose says. He dismounts and puts his hands on my waist and lifts me out of the saddle. Taking both my hands in one of his, he wraps the rope that bound me to him around my wrists and ties it tight enough that I cannot wiggle out of it.

  “Why are you binding me?” I whisper, too scared to raise my voice.

  “This wouldn’t be necessary if you’d simply behave,” Treyose says, glaring into my eyes. “I thought escorting a Faodarian princess to my kingdom would be one of the simpler things I have done in my life. It is not.”

  “But I do not wish to be escorted to your kingdom. I do not want to be your wife.” My voice comes out laced with repulsion. “I do not…wish to share your bed.”

  He grunts and looks right into my eyes. “That is the most refreshing thing that has ever come out of your mouth. Most women want to be in my bed for no better reason than I am a prince. I am weary of it, Sorrowlynn. Weary.” He ties one more knot in the rope and gives it a hard yank to make sure it holds. “To be honest, I do not want you in my bed, either, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be fool enough to force you into it.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Mostly because I will never force any woman into my bed, but also, you’d kill me in my sleep.”

  I stare at him, mute, for a long moment. Finally, I am able to ask, “You will not make me share your bed?”

  He shakes his head. “I will not. But you must swear if I give you your own chamber, you will not run away this night.” He takes my elbow and starts guiding me through the quiet bailey, toward the castle. Enzio falls into step behind us. “Swear it,” he says.

  I clench my teeth and clamp my lips over them.

  His grasp on my elbow tightens. “Swear it, Sorrowlynn, or I will have you share a bed with me for the purpose of making sure you do not escape. And I have no qualms about tying you to me for the night.”

  Evidently, there is a way he can make me swear. “Fine.” The word trembles. “I swear I will not try to escape this night. But I make no promises beyond that.” We pass through the doors of the black castle and I remember the interior as if I have walked these very halls every day of my life. It feels like my castle, and I have come home after a long time away.

  “You will not want to leave after tomorrow,” Treyose says, his voice light, almost teasing.

  “I will.”

  “No, you will not. This I know as surely as I know my ribs are aching, and my eyebrows are singed, and I have not slept in two days, and all because of you.” He gives me a pointed, superior look, and I study his dark blond eyebrows. They are singed.

  I fight a smirk and ask, “How is it the rest of your face is not burned?”

  He reaches down the front of his shirt and pulls out a medallion, the same he showed me in Lord Damar’s tent. “This was given to me by my new wizard. It shields me from fire,” he says. He tucks the medallion back into his shirt. “Unfortunately, it does nothing against glass.” He holds up his left arm and rolls back the sleeve. His arm is black and blue, and covered with shallow cuts, but I hardly see them as his previous statement registers.

  “You have a wizard?” My mouth goes dry and I look at Enzio to make sure he is listening. His eyes meet mine, and I see the worry there.

  Treyose nods. “The first wizard we have had since Melchior disappeared from this castle more than sixteen years ago.”

  I come to an abrupt halt and Treyose takes another step, yanking on the rope before he realizes I have stopped walking. I lurch forward and catch my balance. “Melchior was the royal wizard of Trevon?” I ask.

  “When he chose to be. He was only here for a few months of every year. He attended special occasions, like births and weddings, but no matter how my grandfather and father tried to cage him, the old wizard always disappeared.”

  “He was my family’s wizard,” I say, falling into step beside him again.

  “Yes, I know. It was your birth that took him from us permanently.”

  I nearly trip. “Why do you say that?”

  “Mere weeks after he disappeared, the rumor of your birth blessing traveled to us: This ba
by will die by her own hand. I was nine. My father and brothers died soon after that.”

  “Your father was an evil man,” I say.

  Treyose shrugs. “He was. The last time Melchior was at this castle, he told my father unless he stopped killing and plundering and giving women to his soldiers against their will, he and his sons would die. And then Melchior disappeared. My father was furious. He didn’t want to stop killing and plundering, so he took my two older brothers and went after the wizard, determined to bring him back to the castle for good, since every war-hungry ruler needs a wizard to tell him whether he is going to win a battle. All three of them got sick and died within a day of leaving.” We stop at a massive stone door carved to look like the sun is rising on it. Behind me, I hear Enzio’s quiet breathing.

  “Your chamber for tonight,” Treyose says.

  “You are making me sleep in the throne room?” I ask, before he has opened the door.

  His eyes narrow. “How do you know this is the throne room?”

  I startle at his words. How do I know it is the throne room? I know this castle like I have lived a lifetime inside of its walls. “Am I wrong?” I ask, curious.

  He shakes his head, calculating eyes taking my measure as if seeing me for the first time. “The throne room is the safest room in the castle. No one can get in, no one can get out, depending on which side of the door is locked,” he explains. “I am putting you in here so I can get a decent night’s sleep. Your palace in Faodara is very beautiful, but the beds are hard, and it is drafty. I have been away from my own bed for weeks.” He takes one of the black stone blades from his belt. Enzio makes a muffled sound of alarm. “It is for her ropes, forest dweller,” Treyose says, and starts carefully sawing at the rope binding my wrists. “You will be locked in until morning, Sorrowlynn.”

  “And what happens if the castle burns down while I am locked inside?” The moment the question leaves my mouth I know the answer. The throne room is constructed from marble walls so thick, not even a dragon’s fire can penetrate them. This vast castle is built for more than the stark splendor it emanates. It is a safe hold, and this room, at the castle’s heart, is the safest of all.