by Victoria Zak
Just then William stuck his head out from behind the solar door. “Jewel, we need to talk.”
Chapter Three
JewelAna sat quietly in her bedchamber as her mother Jordan fussed with her long blonde hair. Her Aunt Jemma bustled about as quickly as her old bones would allow, preparing a chest full of the finest dresses and soft leather shoes for her niece. When she met her soon-to-be husband for the first time, she had to look her best.
Her mother and aunt tried to be happy for her, but there was a sense of sorrow in the room.
Tears still trickled down JewelAna’s cheeks every once in a while, especially when she thought about leaving home. She was comfortable here—loved and safe. She enjoyed the studying her father was adamant she pursue: reading and writing and learning the Welsh language and history. The language came to her naturally, and she was an excellent student She was also given plenty of time on her own to learn to handle a sword and knife, to play the lute and wander the hills around her home. And to learn all she could from Thomas. She was more than comfortable; she was happy—except for that peculiar loneliness she could never explain.
Hearing from her father that she was betrothed to a very wealthy man, she should be happy to finally start a life of her own and have children, but she wasn’t.
Because the man wasn’t Thomas.
Oh, she knew everyone thought that he was her older brother. There was a time when she had thought the same. But things had changed between them. Though she had no evidence with which to prove it, she felt the change all through her body. None of the de Wolfe children resembled her. All her brothers had dark features and a strong aptitude for battle; even her sister Penelope had trained to be a knight. But JewelAna didn’t have that de Wolfe battle drive. Indeed, she liked to train with a sword, not because she enjoyed it, but because it was one of many ways she found to be close to Thomas.
Ever since the time she had visited Penelope in Anglesey, JewelAna had known she was different from the family. That summer at Castle Rhydilian she had only been ten and full of life. Her mother had warned her time and again that her mischievous ways would land her in trouble one day. Truer words had never been spoken.
“But Mama, I’m bored!”
“Go find Thomas. I’m sure he’ll play a board game wit’ ye,” Jordan replied to JewelAna’s whining. Her Scottish tongue was more pronounced when her patience was tried.
“I want to go outside and catch frogs.” She stomped her foot.
Jordan laughed. “Laddies play wit’ frogs, Jewel.”
Thomas rounded the corner, picked JewelAna up and flung her over his shoulder. “What’s that frown all about?”
“Mama says catching frogs is for laddies,” she said as Thomas tickled her.
“Well, I happen to disagree.” He winked at his mother. “Go outside and I’ll be right behind you.” Thomas put her down and JewelAna raced out the door.
Jordan called out to her daughter before she crossed the threshold. “Stay away from the marsh!”
“Aye, Mama!”
Jordan turned to her son. “Thomas, between ye and yer father, ye spoil her rotten,” she scolded.
Thomas smiled and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “I know.”
Once outside the excitement was too much to handle and JewelAna sprinted toward the forest, never giving her mother’s warning a thought.
Twigs crunched beneath her feet, mud splashed up onto her red tunic, and the croaking frogs echoed throughout the forest. A big frog hopped into sight, halting JewelAna. Very slowly she crept up on the frog and as she bent down to capture the slimy creature, it hopped, startling her. She giggled and the frog hopped again several times, with the child one step behind.
JewelAna followed the frog straight through a clump of tall grass and found herself nearly falling into a large body of water. Mama wouldn’t be happy if she came back home a muddy mess. The frog was temporarily forgotten when the child noticed that she wasn’t in the forest anymore, she was in the marsh. There was a darkness here, as if it was warning her to go back home. All the marshland animals that, just a moment before, had been making their happy little noises, had now fallen silent.
Because JewelAna was an inquisitive child, she didn’t heed the warnings. As she looked for the frog in the mucky water, something swam just below the surface. It was huge and had scales, that was certain, she thought. JewelAna looked closer, but it was gone. “What was that?”
JewelAna was turning to leave when suddenly the water swirled and rippled into a large circle. This happened several times until she saw a row of swirls heading her way as if something was swimming towards her.
Taking a few steps back, JewelAna fixed her eyes on the last swirl. Slowly, a big shimmering green dragon head emerged from the water. Water cascaded down its long neck enhancing the sheen of its scales. She covered her mouth in surprise when the creature yawned, exposing straight white pointy fangs.
JewelAna stood frozen, mesmerized by the dragon’s serene nature. Nay, she felt no fear. The dragon turned his head to the side as if he was trying to get a good look at her. His eye was large and green and the pupil was a black slit. The creature blinked.
JewelAna walked closer to the beast as if it called to her. She placed her trembling hand on its nose and shuddered when she noticed a deep scar on its left eye. With a delicate touch, she rubbed her hand over the scar. It was rough and raised from the skin. “Oh, you poor creature.”
JewelAna stood full of compassion, staring at the dragon’s eye as though she had been bewitched. She couldn’t pull away from the lure of its stare. The beastie pressed the tip of his nose to her lips. Wide-eyed, she inhaled, gasping for air. A wave of heat traveled through her veins and down to her toes. Her heart pounded against her ribcage and her knees buckled. She’d been kissed by a dragon.
The sound of heavy footsteps approaching alerted the dragon and it retreated into the water. Thomas ran to JewelAna. “Jewel, are you alright?” He bent down and looked the child over.
Dazed from what she’d just witnessed, JewelAna nodded slowly, reassuring him that she was indeed well.
“What the devil possessed you to go into the marsh?” The child was stunned by Thomas’s distraught tone. Her bottom lip began to quiver. Her brother never raised his voice to her.
“Nay, nay, nay—don’t cry.” Thomas wrapped the child in his strong arms and held her tight. “Shhh, I was worried about you.”
“Please don’t tell Mama,” the child sniffed.
Thomas held JewelAna in front of him and wiped away her tears. “It will be our little secret.”
JewelAna smiled and flung her arms around his neck.
“Lass, what be on yer mind?” Jordan asked as she paused in pinning back the side of her daughter’s hair. “Ye seem far away.”
JewelAna straightened her spine when she realized where her mind had taken her. “I suppose I’m nervous.”
“Och, child, and there’s no shame in that,” her aunt called over her shoulder as she folded a dress and placed it in the chest. “It seems to me yer da would have at least talked to yer mother aboot this…arrangement before sending ye to meet yer husband-to-be all alone.”
“Jemma, no’ now.” Jordan shot her sister a stern glare.
“Englishmen,” she huffed.
JewelAna couldn’t agree more. Anger crept in when she thought about Thomas and his stubborn ways. They both knew that there was something between them, yet Thomas still held on to the one excuse she knew deep down wasn’t the truth. She was not a de Wolfe by blood. If only Thomas could find it within himself to tell her the truth, then she wouldn’t be betrothed to the wrong man. If only he would confess his feelings for her, she could stay at Castle Questing and be with him. The thought of never seeing him again tore at her heart.
There was no holding onto hope, for Thomas prided himself on his honor, his loyalty; he would never confess his true feelings to her. When she would bring up the issue, he’d put a stop to her
musings. He would tell her it was for her own good and that he was protecting her. But from what—he would never tell.
Then so be it, she thought. Perhaps this betrothal wasn’t a bad idea after all. Papa had said the Wend Drakis were good people and that they meant her no harm. In fact because of this marriage, the de Wolfes gained another ally in Wales. Papa said it was her rightful place.
Fáfnir Wend Draki, she mused. She wondered if the man would be tall like Thomas or if his hair was dark and long? Would he make her weightless as soon as he came into the room? Would she desire him in a way that consumed her every thought? She shook her head; how quickly she found herself comparing the two men.
Jordan placed the last pin in JewelAna’s hair then stood back to admire her creation. “JewelAna, yer a verra bonny young lady.” She fussed with the long blonde tendrils that framed her face. “I know this is a lot for ye to understand, but if Papa thinks this is the right thing to do, then it is. He loves ye verra much, as do I.” A tear ran down her mother’s cheek.
“Oh, mama, don’t cry.” She hugged her mother. “I trust Papa’s decision and I’m willing to go. I won’t let him down or my family.”
Her mother held her tight. “Ye could never disgrace this family, JewelAna.”
Chapter Five
Fáfnir Wend Draki sat in his solar proceeding with his daily business, though not very productively. He cared naught about taxes due or various degrees of complaints or distributing land between his trusted dragon knights. Today one thought clouded his keen mind: his bride-to-be, JewelAna.
Even though he didn’t hold the human title of king, he was a king to his people and everyone who sought out the Wend Draki’s protection. There wasn’t another king, prince, or baron who held as much power and wealth as he. Because of this, Fáfnir was very selective in who he allied with.
He and a few trusted dragon knights had occupied this land before the rulers of old had claimed this kingdom—what they called Wales—as their own. One look, and the Wend Drakis’ heritage would confirm exactly how old they really were, Fáfnir especially. Long blond hair, tall and built for battle; the outcast sons of Odin, the Allfather, he had come from a time almost before time was counted. There would be no place in Valhalla for his kind, which suited him just as well.
Rumors passed down from generation to generation of barbarians slaying their way through Wales, were enough to strike fear into the common man. Mothers and fathers warned their children to stay far away from the marshland, for a horrid serpent lived in the bog that feasted on human flesh. The tall tales were recounted mostly as a threat to children, warning them to behave, or they would be fed to the serpent.
Well, he supposed the rumors held true, to a degree. He was known from time to time to indulge on tasty treasonous traders. The rest of the time, holding back the rage he possessed toward humans was hard. When the beast was unleashed, his aggression could not be contained. Unfortunate for the poor soul who felt his wrath.
Although Fáfnir got a chuckle out of the absurdity of it all, one fact remained. The House of Dragons held true to their blood-chilling reputation. No one dared to challenge their strength, for no human could slay a dragon. All of Wales knew the only way to save their country from the English was to accept the dragons and accommodate their needs.
It wasn’t that the Wend Drakis demanded much. No virgins had to be sacrificed on a full moon in order to satisfy their bloodlust. That was a ridiculous old wives’ tale. Fáfnir thought of himself a fair and reasonable dragon. If he was promised something, he expected to receive his reward. It wasn’t his fault when humans came up empty-handed and needed to be taught a lesson about honor. If the people of Wales only knew how powerful he really was they would understand that the Wend Drakis could easily rule over Wales and all of England for that matter. But that was not his plan.
Fáfnir adjusted the patch on his left eye. Eight and ten years ago he’d been stabbed by an overly ambitious female knight, which had left him permanently blind in that eye, a major hindrance for a dragon.
A dragon depends greatly on keen eyesight to guide him through the sky and through life. Without that acute and sharpened sight, Fáfnir was not as strong as he should be. He looked above the hearth and wickedly smiled. “At least I have the wench’s sword.”
A knock at the door gained his attention. “Come in.” Patiently Fáfnir waited; he didn’t want to seem too eager, so he resisted the urge to jump out of his chair, greet the messenger and shake the answer out of him. Nay. He’d been waiting for de Wolfe’s reply for over a fortnight, and today Fáfnir expected good news.
Logmar, his trusted advisor and one hell of a knight, strode to his desk and handed him a piece of parchment stamped with the de Wolfe’s signature wolf-head seal. “I believe this is the reply you’ve been waiting for, my lord.”
Fáfnir eyed the parchment, rubbing his finger across the impression in the wax. As eager as he was, he gave pause. So much depended on his demands. There was no room for negotiation; he wanted what had been promised to him.
But was he willing to go to war for what he wanted when an alliance with de Wolfe would be in both parties’ best interests? Aye, he would move mountains to acquire the treasure he had waited so long for.
With an extended talon on his index finger, he sliced through the wax and broke the seal.
Time stood still as Logmar waited for his next command. He stood beside Fáfnir with his hands clasped behind his back.
Fáfnir’s eye darted across the cream parchment and through the inked words; he couldn’t read the message fast enough. His eyes went wide in delight, and a smile stretched across his lips. “Logmar, ready the boats. My bride awaits.”
~~~~~
The rain had been relentless, pelting like pebbles falling from the sky. De Wolfe had known the trail they must follow, and he deemed it to be a rough one indeed. JewelAna could feel every bump in the road through the bench seat inside the horse-drawn carriage. The chains below violently knocked together as the carriage bounced in rhythm with each horse’s trotting hoof, pulling her farther and farther away from home.
Thomas spared neither man, nor horse nor sword nor other precaution when it came to keeping JewelAna safe. Five of his most trusted knights led the procession on horseback, with five more behind the carriage. Metal hitting metal clanged from the heavily armored horses thundering down the trail. Behind them the carriage wobbled and jumped over large rocks that had been brought to the surface by the heavy downpour.
The contingent was dressed in trappings of their signature black and gold colors. And each knight wore with pride a gold wolf head embroidered on the chest of his surcoat. Although it looked as if the men were lightly armored in chainmail, they were thoroughly equipped for battle.
These men trained as knights, but battled in their own way. No amount of armor or steel represented their superior abilities. Their senses were sharp—at one with the earth, led by raw primal animal instincts; during which man and beast had a magical connection. These were no ordinary knights, they were de Wolfe pack.
The carriage hit another rock and bounced ahead, causing JewelAna to grab hold of the wooden frame to keep from bouncing off the seat. With each bump, she grew more aggravated. “Of all times why must we travel on such a miserable day?” she asked her ladies maid, who remained silent. Furthermore, she wondered, why is Thomas so eager to leave?
The carriage weaved, causing it to jostle both passengers inside. As she lost her balance, JewelAna’s head slammed into the frame. “Bloody hell!”
The ladies maid’s eyes widened in shock. JewelAna wanted to shout at her.
This was it. She’d taken enough of being tossed around in this blasted carriage. She lifted the leather drape that covered the window in the door and peeked her head out. Thomas was riding his black warhorse next to her as if oblivious to her discomfort. “Thomas!” His attention was focused in front of him and he paid her no mind.
JewelAna huffed. “Thomas de Wolfe
, if you don’t answer me now I’ll jump!”
He gave her a sideways glance. “You won’t.”
“I most certainly will. And don’t you test my resolve, you know I’ll do it,” she bit back.
“You won’t jump. Unless you don’t mind that your suitor’s first impression of you is a muddy one,” he snickered.
JewelAna stared at him as if she was cursing him. “Well mayhap he has more compassion than you.” She swore she heard him growl, but wasn’t sure over the pouring rain. The carriage bumped again, jostling her, but this time she stopped herself from hitting the frame. “Thomas, I’m being tossed around here like dice in a cup! I want out! Now!”
“Well, my lady,” he mocked, irritated at being compared to her suitor. “here lies the problem. We’re not stopping until we reach the tower.”
