Dragon Song (Dawn of the Dragon Queen Book 1)

by Tara West

Mrs. Jenkens marched Abby straight through the parlor and up the stairs. No doubt the old woman preferred to lecture her granddaughter in private, though half of Galveston had witnessed Mrs. Jenkens’s scene at the beach. And those who hadn’t seen it would soon hear how Mrs. Jenkens had rushed into the water, heavy skirts and all, yanking Abby against her chest and dragging her all the way back home.

  The dragon queen stopped Safina from crossing the threshold with an outstretched hand. “You have been gone too long, daughter.”

  Safina tried not to scowl. “I was visiting friends with Abby.” And eating too many sweets and making a complete fool of myself, she wanted to add, but she made sure not to project that thought to her mother.

  “Friends?” Mother clucked her tongue. “Not your friends.”

  Safina shrugged. “They were kind to me.”

  They don’t know what you are, Mother answered in thought. Safina winced, then smoothed her expression, not wishing the dragon queen to see how much her words had pained her. She feared if Abby and her friends knew what she was, they’d run screaming.

  But not Gabriel.

  Safina bit her lip, wondering if Mother had heard her thinking about Gabriel. She needed to be more careful not to let Mother pry inside her mind, for she worried her most intimate thoughts would be exposed. Though she often spoke to her mother in thought, Safina had devised a way to keep her mother out of her mind by envisioning her skull a fortress. It usually worked, except during those times when Safina forgot to put up her barrier. Although she realized ’twas no use hiding her secrets. Her mother would find a way to discover them.

  She brushed past her mother, speaking over her shoulder. “Gabriel was kind.” He knows what I am, she hissed in her mother’s mind.

  The dragon queen followed close on Safina’s heels. “I saw you speaking with him.”

  Was Safina mistaken or was there a note of accusation in her voice?

  Safina plopped down on the settee, her mouth watering when she saw the display on the low table. There were breads and jams, meat pies, and tarts, plus four frosty glasses swirling with yellow liquid.

  Her irritation with her mother forgotten, Safina didn’t hesitate to fill a plate until her meat pies were in danger of falling off the heap. She took a generous bite of pie, moaning as the buttery crust and fragrant meat practically melted on her tongue.

  She chased down the food with a sip of the frosty beverage. It was heavenly, like sweet and tangy fruit in a glass. If she had her way, she’d gorge on every morsel and refill her glass several times over, but Mother had that expectant look in her amber eyes, as if she was waiting for Safina to spill her very soul.

  “Gabriel is going to read to me tomorrow,” she blurted. “Since I never had the chance to learn, mayhap he can help me.”

  She’d no idea what compelled her to tell her mother about Gabriel. It could have been a secret she shared only with him. But the way the dragon queen glared at her, she feared her mother had the ability to pick apart her mind, exposing her tender heart and mocking her for daring to admire a boy.

  Mother leaned toward her. “Do you think it wise to make close friends with these mortals?”

  “Why not? They have done me no harm.” Safina drew back, surprised by her sudden courage in standing up to Mother and wondering why she was fool enough to challenge her.

  True, they’d done Safina no harm, but then the dragon queen had never been wrong about such things before.

  Mother heaved a sigh, one that made her sound weary and not at all like a proud dragon royal. “Do not trust mortals, Safina. Especially not men. They are deceptive and hard-hearted.”

  “Was my father hard-hearted?” Safina asked before she had time to think about her question.

  “I do not wish to speak of him,” Mother said curtly, her tone so sharp, it threw Safina off balance.

  Was it always to be like this whenever Safina wished to know about her father? Would her mother simply put up barriers, denying Safina insight into the man who’d sired her?

  “Why? He was my father. I have a right to know.”

  “Just the thought of him twists a blade in my heart.” Mother hunched over, clutching her chest.

  A wave of sorrow washed over Safina, similar to the pain she’d felt from Abby over Theodore Carter. So this was why Mother was distrustful of men. Safina’s father had broken her heart.

  “Didn’t he love you? Didn’t he love me?” Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice warned Safina to let it go, but she couldn’t.

  “He couldn’t love us. He was a dragonslayer.” Mother ended on a sob, turning from Safina.

  A jolt of panic struck Safina in the chest. “A dragonslayer?” Safina could hardly comprehend what her mother had said. From the time she’d taken her first flight, her mother had taught her dragonslayers were their mortal enemies. Now Mother was saying Safina’s sire was the foe she’d grown to fear and loathe? “No!” she screamed, then lowered her voice to a hiss when she heard a commotion above. “My sire can’t be a dragonslayer.”

  Storm clouds were brewing in Mother’s eyes. “He was, and perhaps he is still.”

  Safina gasped. “He’s alive?”

  “Aye, child, for his mortality is tethered to me, his mate.” There was no mistaking the edge of bitterness in the dragon queen’s voice. “Why else do you think we’ve been hiding for so long?”

  Suddenly, Safina lost her appetite. She set down her plate with a clank and rose on shaky legs, still trying to process how Mother could have mated with the enemy. And why would a dragonslayer have mated with a dragoness?

  “Excuse me, Mother.” Safina swallowed, fighting to speak against the tightening in her throat. “I have had a long day, and I feel I must rest.”

  But Mother wasn’t paying her any heed. She was looking out the window, her vacant gaze focused somewhere beyond the setting sun.

  Did Mother still love her mate? Of course she did, else she would not have cried over him for five hundred years. One thing Safina was sure, he was the reason Mother never smiled, the reason Safina had woken up many times to the sound of her mother’s gut-wrenching sobs. Whether he was still a dragonslayer or no, Safina could never forgive him for breaking her mother’s heart. And if he returned to do them harm, Safina would do whatever it took to stop him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After his grandsons left with their fishing poles, Josef rested his weary bones in a rocking chair beside the open window. Gabriel was still abed, where Josef hoped he remained. He did not wish anyone to witness what he was about to do, for the thought of separating the pair filled him with shame and remorse. But what choice did he have? The dragoness would not heal Gabriel unless Josef broke her bond, a spell he’d only done once before by accident. He had to practice if he was to successfully separate the dragon from her mate.

  Josef called the little swallows from their mud nest perched under the eves on his front porch. How easily they flew to him, landing on the small table beside his rocker. They innocently chirped, looking up at him. It had always been this way between Josef and animals. As an earth speaker, he had a way with all creatures. They trusted him, and until now, he had protected them.

  A tear slipped down his weathered cheek as he bent over the pair. “Forgive me, my little friends, for what I’m about to do.”

  He stretched his arms across the table, turning up his palms. His limbs trembled when a bird hopped into each hand. Closing his eyes, he summoned the spell, which was really no more than an image of a tree with twisted roots embedded deep within the ground. Slowly, the roots started to unravel, uprooting the tree until it fell on its side. The tree stiffened and began to pull apart, splitting down the center until the whole was two halves. The roots burrowed deep into the ground again, and this time there were two young saplings, their branches growing in opposite directions so they never touched. The smell of fresh wood and raw earth filled his senses, the signal the spell had worked.

  When Josef’s eyes f
luttered open, the birds flew from his hands, going in opposite directions. Josef wept to see them go. They would start new lives, finding new mates, neither caring for the other as they’d done for so many seasons.

  “What are you doing, Papí?”

  Josef’s gaze shot to his grandson, wheeling toward him from across the hall. He had an accusatory look in his large almond eyes, filling the old man with even more shame.

  Josef hung his head. “Practicing, mijo.”

  Gabriel wheeled to the window, craning his neck and searching the horizon. “What’s happened to them? Why didn’t they go to their nest?”

  Josef heaved a sigh, but it did little to ease the heaviness in his heart. “Their bond has been severed.”

  Gabriel turned sharply on him. “How?” he asked accusingly. “Did you do it?”

  Josef threw up his hands. “Yes. I must if you are to walk again.”

  “I don’t understand.” Gabriel stared at his legs and then at Josef, a look of puzzlement in his eyes.

  Josef had yet to tell his grandson of the deal he’d made with the dragon, for he did not wish to get the boy’s hopes up. But now it seemed he had no choice, or else Gabriel would think he’d gone loco.

  “The dragoness will not heal you unless I sever the bond with her mate. I have little experience with such dark magic.” He turned to the window. The silence from the abandoned nest was nearly deafening. “I cannot do it without practice.”

  “You promised you’d never use dark magic again.” Gabriel’s accusation was like a knife to the chest.

  Josef knew that, like him, the boy was empathetic, too, caring for all creatures with a tender heart, which made it even harder to explain why he’d had no choice but to separate the birds.

  He forced himself to look into Gabriel’s eyes. The pain and disappointment he saw there was nearly enough to make him collapse. But then he recalled the sickness that had crippled Gabriel, a once vibrant, active boy so filled with promise. After Gabriel had first woken from his brush with death, he’d cried in his bed for months, first for the loss of his parents, then for his legs, which had been reduced to two useless limbs. Josef could never bring back Gabriel’s parents, but now he had the chance to make his grandson whole again. He’d stop at nothing to heal Gabriel, for none of his other grandsons had so much promise, so much potential to set out in the world and achieve great things.

  He pulled back his shoulders as best he could, though they sagged from a lifetime of sorrow. “I also made a promise to protect you. It was your father’s dying wish.”

  Gabriel waved at the window. “I would rather remain a cripple than watch you harm innocent creatures.”

  Josef bristled at that. “They are not harmed, niño. They will find other mates.”

  “And what will become of their young?” Gabriel snapped. “Who will feed them?”

  Josef’s breath hitched, for he’d forgotten about the chicks. Though the nest was quiet, there was a good chance the lovebirds had already laid eggs. “I do not know.”

  He slowly rose on shaky legs, hoping Gabriel was wrong. He’d been so consumed in his mission to heal Gabriel, he’d forgotten to check the nest first. He hobbled to the porch and Gabriel followed, the boards creaking beneath his wheels. Josef steadied himself on a pillar while climbing on a stool. But even before he reached the nest, he heard them, their tiny, helpless chirps sounding like accusations of treachery in his ears.

  He carefully pulled the nest from its perch, mud and twigs crumbling to the ground as he climbed down and set it on the stool. Four little mouths snapped eagerly as they awaited their next meal. But there would be no food, for when their parents had flown away, they’d most likely forgotten their offspring as they’d forgotten each other.

  Josef leaned against the railing, hanging his head in his hands. “Why would God grant me the power to destroy such beauty? If only he’d given me the gift of healing.”

  Gabriel reached up, clasping Josef’s elbow. “You have healing powers, Papí.”

  Josef shook his head, his eyes overflowing with moisture. “They are not strong, niño. Not like the dragoness.”

  “Listen to me, Papí. No good can come from dark magic.” Gabriel nodded toward the orphaned chicks. “You must stop this before more innocents suffer.”

  Josef thought long and hard about his grandson’s words. Why had Graechen brought the dragoness to him if he was not to sever her bond? For he knew Fiona had lived in torment the past five hundred years. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be the one to refuse a dragon. He’d already seen the monster’s strength, and he had no wish to cross her.

  “I have already given Fiona my word. Do you want me to anger a dragon?” he asked.

  Gabriel looked him in the eye. “I want you to do what’s right.”

  The boy was young, unaccustomed to the ways of the world. He knew not what it was like to sacrifice for others, to carry the responsibility of so many on shoulders already strained with the burden of loss and regret. “Sometimes the line between right and wrong is blurred.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.” Gabriel pointed at Josef. “Not when you wield the pen.”

  But what Gabriel failed to understand what that Josef didn’t wield the pen. Fate was indifferent and sometimes cruel, and was a much stronger hand in their lives than free will. Some days fate was a gentle current upon which they drifted toward the salvation of the shoreline. Other days, it was a violent tempest, ripping their world apart and casting them into a maelstrom of pain and sorrow.

  But it was no use arguing. Gabriel took the nest and rolled back into the house, reminding Josef he was once again a failure in the eyes of his family.

  * * *

  Fiona dressed early that morning, intending to pay Josef a visit and see if he’d made any progress, for though he had never severed a human-dragon bond before, he’d told her he knew of a spell. Safina was still fast asleep, so Fiona intended to slip out early and return before her daughter awakened.

  She was almost out the door when she heard the sound of cackling crows from Mrs. Jenkens’s kitchen. Her dragon-touched senses also heard her name whispered, along with another word that made her limbs turn to ice—“magic.” She knew not who was in the kitchen with Mrs. Jenkens, but one thing she did know: Mrs. Jenkens had broken her vow and divulged her secret. She should have known better than to trust a mortal.

  She pushed open the swinging door, her gaze tunneling on the pair of old women sitting at the kitchen table, heads bent toward each other as they hissed urgent whispers.

  “What is this?” Fiona stormed up to them. “You gave me your word!”

  Mrs. Jenkens gasped, jerking away from the other woman. She slowly stood, and with a trembling lip, motioned toward her friend. “I’m so sorry, but Agnes Alderman has such a kind heart. She has suffered far too long with her condition.”

  The mortal, Agnes Alderman, stood too, favoring both legs as she rested her weight on the table. She looked like an overstuffed sausage, her plump cheeks ripe and pink like the skin of a newborn babe. She attempted a curtsy, but winced as a jolt shot up her knees. The sting was so bad, Fiona winced, too, feeling it as if ’twas her own mortal wound. How Fiona resented her healer’s curse, to be able to feel the suffering of others.

  “Forgive me, miss, but when I saw how quickly Abby had healed, I just had to know.” The woman’s fleshy chins shook as she hunched over the table. When she lowered herself to the chair, the pain in her knees turned into a dull throb. “Some days I can hardly walk with this rheumatism.” The woman massaged both knees before looking up at Fiona with a pleading gaze.

  Fiona’s heart sank like a stone. She knew she’d be a fool to help her, but her cursed empathy would not let her deny this woman relief.

  She squared her shoulders, glaring at Mrs. Jenkens. “If I do this, it will not stop with her.”

  Mrs. Jenkens swallowed hard before nodding at her friend. “Oh, but it will. She is the epitome of discretion. She will keep
your secret.”

  “On my honor, I swear.” The woman made the sign of the cross and then winced as another jolt raced up her legs.

  Fiona crossed her arms, shooting eye daggers at Mrs. Jenkens. “As well as you have done, Mrs. Jenkens?”

  “Oh, please,” Mrs. Jenkens cried, clasping her hands in a prayer pose. “Agnes is my very best friend. You don’t know how much it pains me to watch her suffer,” she said with an overly-dramatic flourish. “Besides, she’s willing to pay handsomely for your services.”

  The offer was too tempting. Fiona knew she could use the extra coin if she and Safina were to begin again in this new world. She only hoped the reward was worth the risk.

  * * *

  Duncan hadn’t been accustomed to traveling coach in over thirty years, but the first-class cabins had already been booked. He was lucky to have secured a seat at all, having boarded the train moments before it left the station. He found little solace in the crowded dining car, in a corner seat far from the eyes of matchmaking mothers and swoony debutantes.

  His gaze kept wandering sharply to the right, to a flame-haired woman, strands pulled back in a thick braid that ended at her waist. She was scolding a red-haired girl for banging her utensils against the plate. Duncan wondered what his daughter looked like after five hundred years. Had she grown to be a woman, or would she still resemble a girl? He’d no idea how quickly dragons aged, if they aged at all.

  He wondered if her mother had told her about him. If she cared to see him, or if her heart was filled with dread at the mention of his name. He’d give anything to see her. “Safina” the villagers in the old world had called her.

  He went to bed many a sleepless night with her name rolling off his tongue. “Sweet Safina,” he’d say. His little dragoness.

  What he wouldn’t have given to be able to tuck the mite in bed each night, reading her a bedtime story or two. Then he’d kiss his daughter goodnight and go make love to her mother.

  Seemed a simple, easy life, even if it was more fantasy than reality. But Duncan had learned long ago his life would be far from easy. He only hoped he was man enough to live up to the challenge that was to come.