Fierce Winds and Fiery Dragons (Dusky Hollows: Book 1)

by Nan Sweet

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  Minerva stormed down the dark hallways, angry at the upstart commoner. She stopped before the throne room. It was hard waiting for the petitioners to finish, but Minerva knew something of timing. When the last petition had been heard, the princess glided into the throne room with an air of superiority that had taken years to perfect, “Father, I have returned.”

  The king frowned. This wasn't exactly what he and King Theo had planned. King Theo was going to set her up in the tower above the underground and send out word that he had captured a princess. While he held her captive, King Glome of the underground had promised marriage to Minerva's rescuer which would be either Theo's prince if he thought her pretty or someone King Glome selected. But the plan failed...and here she was.

  “Were you unhappy with King Theo?” he asked.

  “Father, I was a prisoner, locked in a tower. And there was light everywhere.” Minerva said the word as if it were the most foul thing she had experienced. To a dark dweller, it was. Imagine living in a world where the light was brightened ten-fold.

  “Well, you're back and that's what matters. Come show me your husband.” King Glome looked around the room while his subjects looked up at the ceiling or down at their feet, anywhere but at him, likely one of them thought they'd be married off to the girl who was rather spoiled.

  “How could I get married? I was trapped.” The princess put a hand on her hip just above a frilly circlet of lace and lifted her chin. “I would like to have a bath drawn and fresh bedding. Are my royal chambers in order?”

  The king looked at his steward who shook his head slightly. “I'm afraid your sister, thinking you were not coming back after so long, moved into your royal chambers. However, we will get you settled into new ones.”

  Women were forever meddling with kings. It was a fact that very few princes ever came to terms with until they were well entrenched in a marriage, bound forever to the woman who would most meddle with their life. In this case, Minerva's step-mother, Queen Norde, was the culprit who determined empty chambers should not go to waste.

  “Ah, I see.” The princess curtsied to her royal father, nodded at his steward, and with a lift of her skirts strode gracefully from the room the way women who practiced with books on their heads might. Not that the princess would have learned that way. She was much too proud to wear a book.

  “My Lord?” The steward interrupted the king, who was still looking puzzled in the direction of the door which had swung closed.

  “I'm sorry, you were saying?”

  The steward put a finger to his lips, deep in thought. “The princess never named her rescuer.”

  “You're right. Ask her right away. We may salvage this yet.”

  “Do you suppose this means we can send King Theo's daughter back?” The steward asked.

  The eyes in King Glome's skeletal sockets glowed brightly for a moment, as if the thought excited him, then sat back and they dimmed. After a long sigh, King Glome, looking very depressed shook his head, “No, a promise is a promise. We don't know how Minerva escaped. Go and see what you can find out about a rescuer.”

  The steward clicked his heals together in a salute and with a sharp bow left the king's side. The lights in the cavernous hallway were extremely dim, but the man had no trouble navigating the hallways. After all, he was a member of the underworld and could see quite clearly the portraits of King Glome, his father, and his father before him hanging so elegantly in the hallway. The overworlders walked right by the paintings as if they didn't exist.

  It took but a moment to find the princess. She had, of course, stopped by the kitchen to pester Cook for treats.

  “Princess, I am sorry for bothering you. The king your father would like to reward the man who rescued you.” The steward stood at attention while the princess sat at an onyx table eating vanilla custard, a dish imported from the overworld and much favored by the princess.

  “It was a girl, not a man. And I don't think you should reward her. She wouldn't bow to me once. She spoke without my permission...and...she's a commoner.” The princess whispered in a loud voice, which the commoner cooks and maids couldn't help but overhear as the princess didn't really want to whisper, but only pretend to speak quietly.

  “Where is she now?” The steward asked, eyeing another custard dish on a tray on the counter.

  “Somewhere roaming the halls. She couldn't see a thing in the dark. I doubt she made it far.” The princess scraped the bottom of the custard dish and then licked the spoon.

  “And you left her alone?”

  “Of course. Why would I follow her into the darkness?

  “Thank you, Princess.” The steward nodded to the princess once and clicked his heels together. “I must notify the king at once.”

  The head cook waved with a spoon to the custard dishes, “Must you? I have a custard specially made. You can have it if you'd like.”

  The steward licked his lips and swallowed, “Surely the girl will be okay another five minutes.”

  “She will.” The princess said.

  The steward delicately picked up one of the custards and a spoon and found an out-of-the-way spot by the door to eat. It really did only take five minutes. The steward handed the custard bowl to the kitchen maid washing dishes. “Duty calls. Thank you, my dears.”

  The cook giggled and the maids curtsied, for the steward was a handsome gentleman, newly appointed to his duties. The steward smiled as he left the kitchen.

  The king had left the throne room for the gardens. A variety of lichen and moss grew in a large cavern where water trickled down the walls. He sat on a large rock, watching the water droplets drip...drip...drip.

  “Lord King?” The steward waited at the entrance, not wanting to disturb King Glome.

  “Come. Tell me the news.”

  “My plan has failed. Instead of a princely rescue, the princess was saved by another girl, a commoner who apparently does not understand our customs.”

  “Let's see her.” The king tucked his robes into his belt and stepped barefoot into a pool of water.

  “The princess left her to wander alone. I've sent several footman to retrieve her.”

  Sinking into the water with a sigh, the King Glome wriggled his toes. “Perhaps we can marry the rescuer to Troy.”

  Troy was the other problem on Glome's mind. A noble with designs on the throne who often hinted in the king's presence that he was lonely and could use a life-long companion.