Dragonwatch

by Jaye McKenna

  Mikhyal barked out a laugh that turned into a sob. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Do I? I do not mean to mislead you. It will not be easy. Recovery from something like this is a long, difficult journey.”

  “But it can be done?”

  “It can, but he cannot do it alone. He will need your strength. He will need you to convince him that the journey is worth taking. That the darkness he must stumble through will eventually end, and he will emerge into the light.”

  “Do you really believe I can be that for him?” Mikhyal whispered.

  “I do.” Ilya’s voice was firm and full of conviction. “You have one weapon Anxin did not have.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “You love him. And deep inside, Shaine knows that. In the end, it may be the only thing that matters.”

  “Might I stay with him, then, Master Ilya?” Mikhyal asked. “I know I promised you I’d rest today, but I think I could do that just as well watching over my brother as I could worrying in my own apartment.”

  Ilya gave him a long, appraising look, perhaps studying him with his healer’s sight. “I think,” he said finally, “that is an excellent idea. It would be good for Shaine to have someone who cares for him nearby.”

  Mikhyal turned to go back into Shaine’s bedroom, but before he could take a single step, the apartment door opened and Drannik strode in.

  “How is Shaine, Ilya?” Drannik asked.

  Ilya pulled no punches in his description of what Anxin had done. He told Drannik exactly what he’d told Mikhyal, finishing with his recommendation to have Vayne come out and examine the prince.

  “Anxin,” Drannik growled when he was finished. “Damn him to the Dragon Mother’s coldest hell. Is there no end to the Council’s treachery? I knew he was influencing Shaine, but to burrow into the boy’s mythe-shadow like a parasite? And right under my nose?” The Wytch King shook his head. “I should have seen it.”

  “With respect, Father,” Mikhyal said in a low voice, “You never wanted to look at Shaine closely enough to notice. I tried to tell you he’d changed after the accident, and you said he’d finally grown up and decided to take his responsibilities seriously.”

  “Ai, that I did. I’d long suspected the boy wasn’t mine, and when the Council decided Shaine would be my heir rather than Mikhyal, I resented him even more.”

  “Nevertheless, you did acknowledge him,” Mikhyal said. “He is yours by right, if not by blood, and you are the only father he’s ever known.”

  Drannik stared at his son, dark eyes wide and stunned. “Ai,” he said finally, in a very small voice. “That I am. And I’ve not been a good one, I fear.”

  “There is still time,” Ilya said quietly.

  “Perhaps,” Drannik said, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps there is, at that.”

  * * *

  Tristin emerged from his bedroom in the guest suite of Rhiva’s summer palace to find Garrik, Jaire, Kian, and Ilya busy devouring breakfast.

  “You should have woken me,” he said reproachfully as he took a place at the table.

  “Ilya said we should let you sleep as long as you could,” Jaire said.

  “You were so tired, you were falling asleep in your dinner last night,” Garrik added.

  “But-but we’re leaving right after breakfast, aren’t we?” Tristin almost wailed. He’d wanted to say goodbye to Mikhyal properly, but it didn’t look as if there was going to be time.

  “Well… we’re leaving,” Garrik said, indicating himself, Jaire, and Kian. “Ilya’s staying on for a few days to keep an eye on Prince Shaine. And Wytch King Drannik stopped by last night, after you’d gone to bed. He and Ilya and I had a long talk about Shaine’s recovery. He’s going to need much in the way of support, and he may find it helpful to have someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t family, and has also been used and abused by the Wytch Council.” Garrik gave Tristin a meaningful look. “Drannik wanted me to ask you if you’d have any objection to spending some time here at the palace.”

  “Ah… well.” Tristin swallowed, hardly able to believe the Wytch King would want him to stay on to help his son. “I think… um…”

  “Mikhyal will be here,” Jaire pointed out with an innocent smile.

  Tristin’s face felt like it was on fire, and he slouched a bit in his chair. “I… yes?”

  “Is that an answer?” Garrik inquired. “Or a question?”

  “I would… I mean, I think… I’d be very happy to help. And of course, Mikhyal being here would be… well, that is… Oh, but can Master Ludin spare me from the greenhouse?”

  “I will speak to him,” Garrik said gravely. “I’m certain something can be arranged. Your only obligation to me is to put in an appearance at the harvest festival for Jaire’s wedding.”

  Jaire turned big grey eyes on Tristin. “You’ll be there, won’t you, Tristin? I want all my family there when I marry Vayne.”

  All my family. Tristin’s eyes filled, and he smiled at Jaire. “I’ll be there, Cousin. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  “Plan to stay for the entire week, then,” Garrik said. “There will be much to celebrate, including a special ceremony to recognize you as Vakha’s legitimate son and heir.”

  “Whatever for?” Tristin frowned at his cousin. “My father never wanted anything to do with me, and I want nothing to do with his name or his titles. Why should I care about any of that?”

  “You may not care, but the nobility of the Northern Alliance undoubtedly will,” Garrik said. “How am I to ensnare you in an alliance marriage if I haven’t legitimized you?”

  Tristin’s heart stuttered, and a shiver of dread rippled through him. Was he to be married off and sent away like some unwanted piece of furniture? Of course, it made sense for Garrik to make such use of him; Tristin was more of an embarrassment than anything. “Alliance marriage?”

  Garrik leaned forward, eyes glittering with mischief. “I hear Rhiva has a prince of marriageable age. Recently declared heir to the throne, if I’m not mistaken.” He winked. “Of course, if you object, we can certainly drop the matter.”

  “Rhiva?” Tristin’s voice was almost a squeak. “Y-you mean Mikhyal?”

  “Indeed,” Garrik said with a grin. “If you and Mikhyal are in agreement, of course. There’s no need to rush into anything. Unless, of course, you want to rush into it.”

  Tristin’s tongue knotted up and his face burned so hot he had to loosen his shirt. Jaire patted his arm comfortingly and shot his brother a glare. “Leave him alone, Garrik. He’s not used to being teased.”

  “Sorry, Tristin.” Garrik didn’t look at all sorry. “You feel like one of the family already. I forget you’re still new to all this.”

  Family.

  There was that word again, this time coming from Garrik. Tristin gave his cousin a shy smile and said, “It’s all right, Garrik. I don’t mind your teasing. I… I don’t know about the other, though. I think… I think it’s a bit early to be making plans. I hardly know the man. Although… I’d, um, I’d like to see a lot more of him.” He flushed again, realizing that what he’d said would probably be misinterpreted. “Um. I mean, I’d like to get to know him better.”

  Garrik’s lips twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face. “See as much of him as you like, Cousin.”

  An hour later, Tristin said goodbye to his family in the courtyard of Rhiva’s summer palace. Kian had already shifted, and Jaire was busy settling the saddle on the big, black dragon’s back.

  Garrik hugged Tristin hard. “Take care of yourself, Tristin. You can expect Vayne in the next day or so. We’ll send along some of your clothes and things for you. And I imagine you’ll be seeing Jaire, as he’ll probably talk Vayne into bringing him along.”

  “I’ll have the staff prepare a suite for them,” Mikhyal said, coming up beside Tristin.

  Garrik nodded to Mikhyal, then stepped back, threw off his cloak, and shifted. Heavily muscled, with orange-gold scales gl
inting in the sunlight, Garrik’s dragon form was just as impressive as his human one.

  Tristin lifted the saddle, settled it on his back, and secured the straps. Mikhyal helped him heft the saddlebags and get them attached. When he’d checked all the straps to make sure they weren’t digging into Garrik or rubbing anywhere, Tristin gave his cousin a playful slap on the flank. Garrik whipped his head around with an indignant snort.

  Jaire laughed. “That’s the way to deal with Garrik,” he said happily. “Goodbye, Tristin. I shall probably be back with Vayne in a day or so, but if not, I’ll look forward to you coming home for the wedding.”

  “Coming home,” Tristin murmured. “I like the sound of that.”

  “You’ll bring Mikhyal with you, won’t you? And… and Shaine, if he’d like to come. If he’s well enough.”

  “I will be sure to let him know he’s welcome,” Tristin said.

  Jaire hugged him, then stepped back next to his brother and shifted. Jaire’s dragon form wasn’t nearly as big as Garrik’s, but his coloring was breathtaking. Shimmering opalescent scales caught the light, reflecting all the colors of the rainbow, and brilliant violet markings shaded from light to dark across his body.

  Mikhyal watched the three dragons launch themselves into the sky. “They are beautiful, aren’t they?” he murmured.

  “Ai, they are,” Tristin agreed.

  “I’m still not used to the idea that I can take dragon form.”

  “We shall have to practice, then,” Tristin said shyly. “I wouldn’t mind helping you get used to the idea.”

  Garrik and Jaire circled the palace once, and Tristin waved. As they turned west toward Altan, Mikhyal’s arm slipped around Tristin’s waist. “Will you miss them?”

  “Ai, but Altan isn’t far for a dragon. I can be back with them in a day if I wish. If… if it’s all right for me to visit them.” Having never lived anywhere he loved enough to miss, homesickness wasn’t something Tristin had ever experienced before. He might miss his suite at Castle Altan, though, and he would definitely miss his cousins.

  “Of course you can visit them,” Mikhyal said. “Whenever you like. Shall I give you a tour? I thought you’d enjoy seeing the palace grounds. We have some lovely gardens.”

  Tristin couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “I’d love to see the gardens. But… are you up to it?”

  Mikhyal scowled. “Not if you listen to Ilya, I’m not, but a slow stroll shouldn’t hurt.”

  “Then I’d be delighted.” Tristin adjusted himself so that his arm was around Mikhyal. “There you are. You can lean on me if you get tired. Only, do let me know if you feel faint, as you’re quite a bit heavier than I, and I’m not sure I could sweep you up into my arms. We might end up in a rather ungainly heap on the floor.”

  Mikhyal laughed, a full, hearty laugh. “That would make quite the picture.”

  The palace gardens were quite different than those surrounding Castle Altan, making more use of colorful leaves than flowers, which, with the short growing season in the north, made perfect sense. Tristin found himself studying them carefully and making mental notes. Master Ludin would be fascinated, and Tristin wondered how the old man would feel about riding a dragon to Rhiva to meet with Drannik’s royal gardener.

  In the sunny rose garden, they found Shaine and Drannik, sitting on a stone bench talking quietly. Shaine appeared tense and pale, but broke into a tentative smile at something his father said, and Drannik reached out hesitantly to put a hand on Shaine’s shoulder.

  “I hope Shaine is able to find himself again,” Mikhyal murmured as they hurried past so as not to disturb them.

  “He’s surrounded by people who love him and want to help him,” Tristin said.

  “Do you really think that will make a difference?”

  “Garrik and Jaire’s kindness certainly made a difference to me. Without knowing I had their support, I’m not sure I’d have had the strength to get through those first few weeks at Dragonwatch.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Mikhyal said. As they passed into the palace, he leaned closer to Tristin. “What shall I tell the staff to do about your accommodations? You can have your own suite, if you’d like. Or… or a room in mine. I’ve a spare. I, ah, went to the trouble of having it prepared as soon as I returned from Altan. In case you decided to pay me a visit. We never did get to have that picnic. I was hoping we might rectify that in the very near future.”

  “I… I’d like that.” Tristin’s face heated. “The picnic, I mean. And… I… could I? Stay with you? If… I mean, if you would be… Oh, but I don’t have to, of course, and I would never want to impose. I can’t imagine how anyone could—”

  Mikhyal pulled Tristin into his arms and silenced him with a kiss. When he drew back, intense blue eyes fixed on Tristin’s, holding him immobile. “I want you, Prince Tristin of Altan,” Mikhyal said, his voice a low, husky growl. “In my suite and in my life. Is that clear enough for you?”

  “Ah, um, ai, Your Highness, it is indeed.”

  “Then would you like to see your room?”

  “Oh, a tour! How very exciting!” Dirit appeared hovering in the air in front of them. “Do lead on, Your Royal Predatoriness. I’m sure Prince Tristin of the New Flower Bed is quite eager to be lured into your lair.” The little dragon’s eyebrow tufts waggled suggestively as he eyed Tristin.

  “Your timing is impeccable, you little monster,” Mikhyal muttered.

  Dirit’s gleaming black eyes went wide. “Monster? Me? Well, I never! Monster indeed. I’ll have you know your royal father calls me Master Dirit.”

  “You have far too many teeth to look properly innocent, Dirit,” Mikhyal told him.

  “Well, really.” The little dragon’s whiskers twitched. “I’m quite insulted. In fact, I’m not sure if I shall ever deign to speak to you again.”

  “If you don’t speak to me again, how am I to thank you for leading Tristin and Jaire to me?”

  One eyebrow tuft lifted. “I could make an exception, I suppose… Especially if there will be groveling. And blackberry tarts.”

  “No groveling,” Mikhyal said firmly. “But you do have my heartfelt gratitude, Dirit. You saved my life.”

  “Well, that is my sacred duty, after all.” Dirit looked very pleased. “Then, if you’re planning to have your way with Prince Tristin of the New Flower Bed—”

  “Prince Tristin of Altan,” Tristin cut in. “Garrik’s promised. He’ll be making it official at Prince Jaire’s wedding.”

  “Oh, so we’re going to be true royalty now, are we?” Hovering in midair, Dirit made a very formal bow toward Tristin. “Legitimized and everything. Lands and titles. Nobility. Well. That changes everything. If His Royal Manliness is planning to have his evil way with the soon-to-be Prince Tristin of Altan, then I shall be off to entertain myself for a bit.”

  “Dirit, would you… would you mind keeping an eye on Shaine?” Mikhyal asked. “Let me know if he’s alone or sad, or if he might need someone to talk to. After all he’s been through, I fear for him.”

  “I will, Mikhyal.” Dirit nodded solemnly, and pressed one of his front claws against his chest. “I will watch over him for you.”

  Mikhyal’s eyebrows flew up. “I think that’s the first time you’ve addressed me by name. What’s the occasion?”

  Dirit sniffed. “Against all expectations, I do believe I’ve become rather fond of you.” And with that, the little dragon disappeared.

  Mikhyal took Tristin’s hand, and they continued on their way. By the time they reached the royal apartments, Mikhyal was leaning heavily on Tristin. “I fear I’m more tired than I thought,” he said ruefully as he handed Tristin the key.

  Tristin opened the door and helped him in. “Ilya did tell you to rest. And now I’m telling you, as well. Any more tours and such can wait. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Mikhyal went straight to his bedroom, where he sank down on his bed with a sigh of relief.

  “See if yo
u can have a bit of a sleep,” Tristin suggested. He expected an argument, and when he got none, realized he’d been correct in his assessment. Tristin was just as glad. He, too, was still feeling tired. Once Mikhyal was settled, he’d go and curl up on one of the sofas in the sitting room and see if he could have a nap.

  He covered Mikhyal with a light blanket, leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, and turned to leave.

  “You said you weren’t going anywhere,” Mikhyal said. “Won’t you stay? You look as if you could do with a rest, as well.”

  “Ah. Well. I… yes, I am a bit tired,” Tristin said, flushing. “I was going to curl up in the sitting room.”

  “Whatever for? There’s room here.” Mikhyal patted the empty space beside him. “Come on, then.”

  Tristin hesitated only a moment before pulling his boots off and joining Mikhyal on the bed. He lay down on the very edge, but Mikhyal reached out and dragged him closer, then snuggled up to him, pressing the full length of his body against Tristin’s.

  Tristin relaxed against him, and was soon fast asleep.

  * * *

  Tristin woke with a start, and for a moment, he couldn’t think where he was. Once he felt the warm body pressed against him, he remembered, and relaxed. Outside, it was nearly dark. He’d slept most of the day away, and so had Mikhyal.

  “Did you sleep?” Mikhyal murmured, pulling him closer.

  “Ai, and better than I thought I would.”

  “As did I. I could get used to falling asleep next to you, Tristin.” Mikhyal rolled off the bed and stretched. “Let me go and see if the staff has left us anything.” He padded over to the door and opened it. Warm lamplight poured in, and Mikhyal turned to give him a grin. “Ah, yes. A cold supper packed in a picnic basket, just as I requested.”

  “A picnic basket?”

  “I promised you a picnic, did I not? A picnic you shall have, my prince.” Mikhyal stepped out to retrieve the basket, and when he returned, he shut the door firmly behind him and brought the basket to the table beside the bed, then turned up the lamp.