by N M Zoltack
“Shh,” he urged, coming over to her and enfolding his arms around her. “Hush now. Everything will work out.”
“How can you be so certain?” Tatum murmured. She buried her face into his chest. “Maybe I am cursed.”
“How can you think that?” he asked. “You are—”
“Dudley was so very sweet and kind before we wed. Now, all he cares about is his inn. His inn but then, this is not my shop. It’s ours even though he does not help me at all. I’ve stopped asking him to help me locate more herbs when I need them because he never says yes. He spends more time talking and drinking than he does making shoes. He could still be making us some coins, but no. He wants me to do it all, and, Edmund, I can’t. I can’t handle what the kingdom needs, what he needs… what I need.”
“How can I help you?”
Tatum pulled back and smiled up at him. Her blue eyes shone with unshed tears, and she never looked more previous. Edmund found his gaze wandering to her lips, and he had to stop himself from kissing her.
“You are far too busy helping the realm to—”
“I cannot help you if you do not tell me how,” he said. “My knights are busy securing and fortifying the defenses of the castle, but the sentries have nothing to do during the day. They can help you help Tenoch.”
“Bless you,” she murmured, hugging him tightly, her head snuggling against his chest.
Edmund could not stop himself from rubbing her back. Why did it feel so right to hold her? She was not his, would never be his.
But he could not bring himself to truly accept that she was his sister and would never be anything more to him.
31
Garsea
The night was ready to take over, but Garsea did not care. He lit a torch and headed back outside. Perhaps the two had left the monastery of their own free will. Why and where they might have gone he could not even begin to think.
It was impossible to think that Ximeno would have abandoned his vows. He was too loyal of a Keeper, too devout in his thinking. Velasco, though… Garsea didn’t want to think it possible that Velasco could have poisoned Ximeno’s mind, but since Garsea had left them, anything was possible.
Garsea's ankle appreciated the staff, and with it, he could move quickly and relatively easily despite the torch in his other hand. Most of the sandy streets of Olac were empty, and Garsea found himself nearing the pyramid without consciously deciding to head in that direction.
Would either of the two wish to see the interior? Olac was known for its pyramid rather than the monastery, which always suited Garsea just find. No one outside of the Keepers of the Flames knew about their order, a testimony to how the general populace had forgotten about the dragons.
But Garsea only had to take a few more steps toward the pyramid when a slight breeze washed over his neck and bald head. The sheer, utter coldness of the breeze was unnatural, and he slowly turned around to see a wraith.
How exactly he could recognize the person the wraith had once been, Garsea didn't even consider, not until hours later. For this very moment, he just stared at the wraith that had formally been Velasco. All bones, the hood down for once, soulless… mindless, too, a slave to the whims of the dragons?
But the dragons had not yet returned.
Garsea rushed away from the grim specter, returning with as much haste as he could manage to the monastery. He slammed the door shut by bumping his back against the door repeatedly, but even then, his breathing refused to slow. A rising tide of panic welled within him.
The Keepers were down to two.
Or perhaps even one.
Even patting the pouch filled with the last few dragon bones could not bring Garsea comfort.
Yes, he had located the necessary bones but at what cost?
32
Cateline Locke
The ship set sail, and Vivian waited and bided her time. She hadn’t been able to convince the others to sail for Maloyan earlier, and she did not dare to ask them to go closer to the mainland of Tenoch again. The last thing she needed was for the Vincanans to become suspicious. She hadn’t spent so much time hiding among them to be discovered now.
Still, every night, she was on deck, watching the shoreline to the east. This time of year, the swirling tides of the Murky Depths had caused many a ship to sink well, to the murky depths, and she grinned as the moonlight shone on the water where it lapped against the shore not that far away.
Did she dare risk it? They were near the Beck of Newforte. If she jumped overboard, would she be able to fight against the tide that was tugging on their ship so?
By the Fates, she might never have another chance to make it to shore, not unless the Vincanans brought her with them to help them fight against Atlan Castle.
She gritted her teeth and eyed the distance between the ship and the shore. If the waters were still, she could swim that distance with relative ease, but she was wearing armor, and her weapons would hinder her.
Then so be it. No armor at all.
Vivian’s perch on the deck was near a few barrels, and she slinked off her armor as quietly as she could, shoving them into a barrel of dried sashews, tiny green vegetables in the shape of pebbles that tasted both bitter and sweet.
Hardly anyone was on deck at this hour, but the Vincanan steering the ship was doing his level best to keep them from the shore.
It startled Vivian to realize that her first thought was to slip around behind him, to slice his neck, so there would be no witnesses to her escape. Yes, she had been training with the warriors for over a year now, but how could she have become so very violent in that time? She could not, would not commit such a heinous act, especially since the lack of a man or woman at the helm could very well cause the ship to crash. Then, all of the Vincanans would be forced ashore, and Vivian still would not be able to make her escape.
She waited until the tide was so strong that it made the helmsman mutter curses to himself to toss the barrel overboard. If she could locate it and regain her armor, wonderful. The sashews would be an added bonus. If not, at least the Vincanans would not realize she had intended to jump.
The former princess straightened and seized the railing. “Come on, man, can’t you steer better?” she griped.
“Would like… to see… you try,” he said, struggling with the wheel.
The ship jerked violently, and Vivian gasped. Her feet slipped out from under her—intentional or not—and she slid clear off the side of the ship and plunged into the water.
It was too late now. There was no turning back.
The moment her head broke the surface of the waves, she could hear shouts. The man was calling for the others to aid her. It shocked her that the man should care. They had never spoken before, and she did not even know his name, but that mattered not. She sucked in a deep breath and sank beneath the water. Holding her location deep enough down that the darkness should, Fates willing, hide her from sight.
Her lungs burned, and she fought a sense of panic. She swam closer to the shore, away from the ship, in the hopes that when she resurfaced, they would not see her, but the current fought her every stroke. Eventually, she had to surface, and she only allowed her mouth and nose to rise above the waters. Then, she dipped back down again, fighting a quite possibly losing battle. Again and again, she strove to reach the shore, the current relentless, but she was no longer Vivian Rivera. She was Cateline Locke, and she had been trained to survive at all costs.
When her hand touched against sand, Vivian almost didn’t know what to think. She dragged herself forward until she collapsed onto the beach. It took her several minutes to get her breathing under control, and she rolled over onto her back. The stars twinkled down at her, as if smiling, sharing in the delight of her victory.
But was it a victory?
She forced her sore body to sit up and stared out at the sea. The Vincanan ship was turning away from the shore, heading farther west. Soon enough, they would head south again. A pity that she hadn't learned t
heir next destination, but she assumed it to be Vincanan. The new fighters from Zola would need armor and weapons as well as food before they could assist in the war. There were no other islands to seek out more fighters, so where else would they go? Olac? Etian? The trek from there to Atlan Castle would take far too long.
Unless they sought to fight Tenoch from all angles…
But, no. They wouldn’t do that. At least, Vivian hoped they would not.
She collapsed again, and she sighed. Now, she could shed that identity of Cateline Locke. She could reveal to the world she was Princess Vivian Rivera, and…
And none would believe her in this attire. Without her fancy gowns and sparkling jewels, she appeared far too hard and strong to be a princess.
No. Until she reached Atlan, until she returned to the castle, the ruse remained in place, even if, down in her heart, she knew she could embrace being a princess once more.
Not that she wanted gowns or jewels. If anything, she should ensure her weapons would not rust from the waters.
Despite her fatigue, she did just that, inspecting every sword and dagger on her person. She was just beginning to doze when something hard slammed against her foot.
The barrel.
A slow smile crossed her face, and she dragged the barrel far enough up the shore that the waters could not reclaim it. In the morning, she would cross the Black Forest and regroup in Cilla.
From there, she would head for home.
Finally, at long last, the missing princess would return.
33
Queen Sabine Grantham
The queen could not comprehend what Rosalynne had said. The king had killed the babe. The man she had married had killed a baby.
Sabine hadn’t loved the king, and he hadn’t loved her. He needed to wed, she was beautiful and ambitious, although secretly so, and that had sealed the deal. At one time, she had wanted to make Jankin fall for her. How she had envied how he had loved his first wife and the mother of his children! Unlike that Aldith, his second wife, Sabine had promised herself that she would have a child for Jankin. If that was the way to his heart, so be it.
But something had changed along the way. Jankin had stopped speaking to her, but he had seemed happier, and yes, that was around the time when the babe had died. Jankin himself hadn’t been long for the world after that. Perhaps the Fates had played a role in that.
If the Fates watched the crown that closely, Sabine knew she must be careful, especially since she had been studying Tatum’s grimoire. While she did not fancy herself an alchemist, if she succeeded in her ultimate goal, well, then she would be.
An alchemist queen. She would be the most powerful queen in the history of Dragoona.
But all she could think of as of late was the babe and her own empty arms. Did she truly wish for a babe of her own that badly? She would need a husband first, a king whom she could control. Sabine wasn’t about to relinquish any of her power. In fact, she craved more.
For now, however, she truly did intend for there to be a truce between herself and Rosalynne, and that the younger queen had confessed what the peasants had uncovered about her father suggested Rosalynne wished for the truce to be solidified too.
Sabine had no knowledge of Jankin’s clandestine activity. What else might he have done behind her back? Who knew about the babe and would benefit from telling the peasants?
Just how widespread was this knowledge?
After donning an emerald cloak to match her gown as well as the jewels dripping from her neck, Sabine left her bedchambers. At once, her guards fell into step behind her. She had taken it upon herself to locate a few more men whom she trusted to not spy on her, and she even did not ask Thorley Everett to remain behind.
The day was colder than she expected, but she walked briskly enough to make up for it. One of the guards asked if she wished for a carriage, and she hesitated mid-stride.
“No,” she murmured. “The fresh air feels good, doesn’t it? Freeing even.”
“An illusion,” another guard muttered.
Sabine merely smiled. “Sometimes, illusions are enough to keep spirits raised, and uplifted souls fight harder for what they love.”
The guards fell into a cluster of four around her, one on either side, one in front, and one behind, so she had no choice but to tell them the marketplace was her destination. Where else could she hear the gossip of the peasants?
It did not take them long to reach the marketplace, thankfully, but her heart sank. The number of stalls, the merchants… The place was not the center of frenzied activity as it once had been. She had heard that families had left, and she should have realized some must have been merchants. War hurt everyone and perhaps affected the poor most of all.
Just then, a scream sounded, followed by another cry. The guards moved to block Sabine, and she had to shift slightly to see over their shoulders.
Men in armor were approaching the marketplace, their weapons swinging, the blades glittering in the sunlight.
Men and women.
Vincanans.
Peasants, merchants, they all shrieked and screamed, most running away, but a few raced toward the Vincanans. The majority were struck down with a single blow, and Sabine’s chest burned, her heart skipping a beat. They were monsters, positively ruthless. No matter the cost, they could not be allowed to win the war!
She yanked on the shoulders of the guards standing directly before her. “What are you waiting for?” she demanded through gritted teeth. “Go and fight them!”
“But you are our first—”
“All of Tenoch is your priority, or have you forgotten your vows?” she snapped. “Do not question my orders again.”
The two nodded and ran off. At least they survived the first blows from the Vincanans and were even holding their ground some, but the sheer numbers of the Vincanans meant they would make short work of them unless aid came and swiftly.
Sabine retreated a half-step.
“My Queen, we should bring you back to the castle,” Thorley suggested.
“And if they are attacking there as well?” she demanded. “No. We will stay, but…”
She glanced around wildly. A cluster of trees stood nearby, the lot of them tall and perfect, albeit without any leaves.
Swiftly, she bunched her skirts and raced over to the trees to hide. A few children were already there, crying, and she bent down to comfort them, hoping they did not realize her voice was shaking.
Perhaps she should have ridden over in that carriage after all, if not for her own escape but for the children’s.
34
Ulric Cooper
Queen Rosalynne had sent her own messenger back only hours after Armel had returned. She had many ideas that they could use to prepare against a battle at sea and also a precise location for them, one where they hadn’t any ships.
At once, Ulric had his band follow him to the spot, and he set about giving orders. They needed as many barrels as possible and as much tinder and kindling as they could find. While his band worked, Ulric fletched arrows out of sticks. They wouldn’t be the strongest or sturdiest of arrows, but the ships would be wide targets and hopefully hard to miss once within range. They did have about fifty or so true, honest arrows as well, but the more flaming arrows they could send the way of the wooden ships, the better. Once the Vincanans reached the shore, every arrow would be useless, and only steel could help them save the day.
The day was bitterly cold, but Ulric was working so swiftly that he felt almost too warm. He glanced at the Vast Waters. A fog had rolled in, obscuring his view of the waves. It wouldn't be easy to see the ships in those low-hanging clouds above the water, but then, they did not know when precisely the Vincanans would arrive. They also did not know for certain that they would breach the beach here, either, but this area of the coastline was not protected by a ship. Tenoch had never had an overly large fleet, which was now serving to be to their detriment. They had plenty of lumber but not the men to be able to
fashion and raise ships quickly enough, not with far too many people being needed elsewhere. Yes, some had fled the city, but there were others who had started to help in ways they never had before. Shoemakers had started to work with metal instead of leather to make armor. Carpenters were training under fletchers to make bows and arrows or even to help blacksmiths. Weapons and armor were in high supply.
But would everything be ready for when the next major battles occurred? Who knew? Despite the skirmishes, Ulric knew it would be a matter of time before a battle would come their way. How many would survive? How many would fall? If he perished, so be it. He would give his life for Tenoch, for her queen.
Ulric shook his head to clear his thoughts and worked harder, faster. He did not ask more of his band than he asked of himself, and they needed more arrows, as many as possible. He wasn’t particularly skilled in this area, but they didn’t have time for him to try to perfect weapon-making.
His band had just finished dropping kindling and timber into the second barrel when Gomes cried out, “Ships! Ships approaching!”
Shocked, Ulric stood, the sticks yet to be fashioned into arrows falling onto the ground. “How many?” he demanded.
Gomes’ lips moved as he silently counted. He was high up in a tree, their lookout, but he shrugged. “I’m not learned,” he muttered. “I can’t count. The blasted, Fates-forsaken fog might be hiding some anyhow.”
Ulric waved him down, and Gomes jumped and rolled on impact. The young fool was liable to get himself wounded before the battle even started.
“Light the barrels! Dump as much tinder into the other barrels and make sure all of the fires are raging!”
Swiftly, without waiting to see if the others complied with his orders, Ulric ascended the tree. Six, perhaps seven… No, an even ten. Some had been hiding the others.
