Nevertheless, she didn’t wait for his call. As soon as he disappeared, she walked forward herself, dropping to her belly.
“I wish you success,” said Elddreki placidly, as she poked her head into the hole. She couldn’t see a thing.
“Thank you,” she said, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt.
“I will most likely wait here until you return,” Elddreki added, and Jocelyn paused. Most likely? But she didn’t linger to question the dragon. She had a feeling the longer she stalled, the harder it would be to take the plunge.
With a deep breath, as though she really was plunging into water, she extended her arms into the black opening and began to pull herself forward along the ground, pushing Kincaid’s pack in front of her. She fit through without difficulty, her much narrower shoulders presenting no barrier. For maybe thirty seconds her heart pounded uncomfortably in her throat as she inched through a narrow tunnel. But to her relief, the tunnel opened up quickly, and she felt the draft of a cavernous space.
She was still pulling herself through with her hands, so she could feel that the ground was sloping unevenly down from the opening, and she paused to prevent either the pack or herself from tumbling down. She could feel that no part of her body was outside now, but from her waist down she was still inside the tunnel.
Her body blocked any light that might have come from the opening, and it was utterly dark inside. For a moment her eyes searched the space fruitlessly, then she heard the sound of a flint, and a tiny spark momentarily appeared a little way below her.
“Kincaid?”
There was a pause.
“Jocelyn?” He sounded annoyed. “You were supposed to wait for my signal that it was safe.”
“And you were supposed to be adventuring your way through Kyona, with no idea that either Elddreki or I exist.”
Kincaid’s only response was a grunt, before the sound of the flint resumed. After impressively few attempts, a small flame appeared, growing steadier by the second. Jocelyn blinked in the sudden illumination, faint as it was. The rough slope which stretched down below her was revealed, Kincaid crouching a few feet down it. She couldn’t see very far beyond, but she received the impression of a very large space. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, taking note of the tingling sensation, faint but familiar, that seemed to settle over her.
“I think I can sense some kind of magic in here,” she said optimistically.
“Did you just try to smell magic, like Elddreki does?” asked Kincaid, a laugh in his voice. He seemed to be primarily made of laughter.
She glared at him. “Are you going to mock me, or are you going to help me out of this tunnel like a gentleman?”
“Who said I was a gentleman?” he grinned, but he set the lamp down carefully and scrambled up the slope all the same. He retrieved his pack from where she had pushed it, then took her hands and tugged gently until she had wriggled out onto her knees. She struggled to her feet while Kincaid removed the other lamp from his pack and lit it.
“Whoa.”
Kincaid looked up at her words, following her glance around the cave. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
“How big do you think it is?”
He handed her the second lamp, holding his own high. “I don’t know, but much bigger than it looks from the outside. And much bigger than we can explore in the hour or so before it gets dark.”
Jocelyn glanced back at the opening. Sunlight was only very dimly visible, and she gave an involuntary shudder.
“We’ll be fine,” said Kincaid reassuringly. “We’ll stick together.”
Jocelyn nodded gratefully, following him as he started to pick his way down the slope. “I’m glad you thought of getting the lamps,” she said. “Or this would be completely pointless.”
“Yes,” Kincaid chuckled. “You were pretty ready to race right in.”
“Well,” said Jocelyn conversationally, “I was trying to get away from you as much as anything.”
“Aren’t princesses supposed to be gracious and kind?” asked Kincaid, his aggrieved tone not fooling Jocelyn for a moment.
She smiled. “Well, I don’t mind your company in the least now that I can talk to you, if it makes you feel better.”
“It does,” said Kincaid with unexpected earnestness. “It makes me feel much better.”
They had reached the bottom of the slope by this time, and the roof of the cavern towered above them, almost disappearing in the thin light of their little lamps. The cave floor stretched out in front of their feet, scattered with rocks, but mainly flat. They moved tentatively across the space, able to walk side by side now.
“It was funny what that woman said about the princess pouring her stories into the cave, and the cave holding them,” said Kincaid, his voice echoing strangely in the empty space. “I suppose it’s not surprising the story grew in the telling, but I must confess I never thought of Kyona as a far-off exotic land where the people have magic.” He gave her a sideways glance. “With a few exceptions.”
“It has grown in the telling, clearly,” said Jocelyn, “but there’s some truth in it. My father’s line is a storytelling line. They—we—have an unnatural capacity to retain memories and details, and to pass stories on down the generations. It’s a gift to our line from dragonkind. It’s how my father knew the history of his bloodline, before he knew it was his bloodline, and was able to use that history to help him reclaim the throne. The stories had been handed down father to son for centuries. I grew up on them too, along with my father’s own stories.” She paused, a smile in her voice. “Which, I must say, rival any of his ancestors’ stories, in my opinion.”
“The stories about King Calinnae are incredible,” said Kincaid eagerly. “Even I’ve grown up on them, although I suspect there’s been a lot of embellishment. I doubt he really descended on the false king with an army of two score dragons at his back, for instance.”
Jocelyn laughed, the sound leaping back at her from the distant walls and ceiling of the cave. “Definitely not. It was just one dragon. It was Elddreki, actually.”
“Really?” Kincaid sounded intrigued. There was a moment of silence, then he pushed on. “Is it true he has a magic sword? Or is that another exaggeration?”
“No, that’s true,” said Jocelyn, hiding a smile. Kincaid sounded like an excited boy instead of the self-possessed man she was coming to know. “It belonged to his ancestor, King Cael, who was the last king before the throne was corrupted. The sword was kept in the Dragon Realm from the time of his death until my father took it back. It’s steeped in dragon magic, and it has…unusual properties.”
“Have you ever held it?”
“Yes,” said Jocelyn, not quite able to hold back the indulgent smile this time. “But not nearly as often as Eamon has. He’s tried to convince my father to let him train with it, but no luck so far.”
“What did it feel like?” Kincaid asked curiously.
“Like…” Jocelyn hesitated. “Like instead of the power being in my words it was in my hands.”
Kincaid was silent for a moment. “Eamon is your brother?” he asked at last, and Jocelyn nodded.
“My twin, actually.”
“So he’s the crown prince?”
“That’s right.”
“Is he affected by your power?”
There was a pause. “No.” Jocelyn didn’t elaborate, and Kincaid didn’t press the point.
“So King Cael was the last king before the throne fell,” he mused instead. “Is that the king Darius spoke of in his story, back in Montego? The one who married the daughter of the mountain chief?”
“That’s right,” said Jocelyn quietly. “Queen Jacqueline. She’s the ancestor through whom I have mountain blood. And their daughter, the one who married the Valorian crown prince, was Princess Sarai. And unless I’m much mistaken, she’s the one who came to this cave, searching for dragons, and named the town Thalia.”
“How did you know to ask about it?” Kincaid pro
bed. “That name didn’t mean anything to me, but it obviously did to you.”
Jocelyn sighed. It wasn’t the nicest story. “Thalia was the name of Sarai’s older sister, who died in childhood. She died protecting their brother, Jonathon, from an attempt on his life. He was the only son, and the heir. It was from that point that everything kind of started to fall apart actually.” She looked at Kincaid. “Is Thalia a common name in Valoria?”
“No, not at all,” he said. “In fact, I’ve never heard it before. I wouldn’t have guessed it was a girl’s name.”
Jocelyn nodded. “It’s not common in Kyona either. It fell out of favor after what happened to the princess with that name. It’s been generations, but people still think of the name as cursed.” She sighed. “Kyonans can be very superstitious about some things.”
Kincaid smiled. “So can Valorians, don’t worry. You should hear the easterners talk about wyverns.”
“Wyverns?” Jocelyn repeated, and Kincaid rolled his eyes.
“Fearsome sea monsters. Purely mythical, of course, but you won’t convince the easterners of that.”
“Oh,” said Jocelyn. “Well, in any event, the name Thalia is unusual enough that I thought instantly of the princess when I heard it.” She frowned. “I wonder why Princess Sarai was looking for dragons after she came to live in Valoria?”
“Why don’t you ask the walls and find out?” asked Kincaid humorously, and she shot him a look.
“You’re hilarious.”
He grinned, acknowledging at as a compliment. They had struck out into the middle of the open space, but Kincaid angled to the right, lifting his lamp high in front of him to illuminate the cave wall some distance ahead. Jocelyn copied him, the two thin beams of light leaping up the stone. Far above them, Jocelyn could see stalactites dangling from the ceiling of the cavern. The occasional drip of water ran down them to drop softly to the rocky floor below.
“Careful,” said Kincaid, glancing back at her. “It’s a little slippery here.”
Jocelyn nodded, pushing ahead of him toward the wall. “I wonder if we really will find any dragon runes,” she said. She looked up and out, into the dark space. “This place is huge. Definitely big enough for dragons to fit inside. I wonder if they found it, or if they made it somehow.”
“Can dragons make land formations?” asked Kincaid, frowning.
Jocelyn shrugged. “Who knows? Some legends claim that the Kyonan mountains were flat grassland when dragons first came there, and that they drew the rocky slopes up from the ground over centuries. Mostly I think that’s just myth, but…” She trailed off, looking around her. It was eerie in the cave, and the air seemed to tingle more strongly with magic now.
“But in here, anything seems possible,” finished Kincaid, and he didn’t seem to be laughing at her this time.
Jocelyn had reached the wall. She reached toward it, glancing back over her shoulder to give Kincaid a sly smile. “Exactly. And that being the case, I’ll just ask the cave for any stories it might have to tell me, shall I?”
She had expected Kincaid to laugh, but his breath seemed to catch sharply in his throat for a moment, and he was looking at her with a strange expression. She had no time to ask what was on his mind, however, because at that moment her questing fingers found the stone of the cavern wall.
Chapter Fifteen
She noted that the wall was cool and unexpectedly smooth, but that was all she had time to take in before her senses spun wildly away from her. Her hand seemed fused to the rock, but her consciousness rushed alarmingly, as though she was being sucked into a whirlpool.
She opened her mouth to cry out to Kincaid, to ask him to catch her, to hold her back, to save her from being sucked away, but no sound came out. For a moment everything was confusion, then the chaos suddenly stilled, her every sense once again focused on the cool of the cavern wall.
Sarai leaned her head against the wall of the cave, the stone cool beneath her cheek. The emotions welling up inside her were too intense to contain, and she let out a small sob.
They had been here—she was sure of it. The same power she had felt in the mountains lingered here in this cave. It was dragon magic, without question. This place wasn’t like the other spots she had explored, where local legend claimed some kind of magical history. This place was real. The superstition around this cave had some basis in fact.
But the rush of elation was brief. She might be sure dragons had been here, but that didn’t mean she would be able to convince anyone else of it. Her new father-in-law already thought her addled. She was sure he was regretting marrying his son and heir to the Kyonan princess.
Sarai choked on another sob. Well, she wished he’d thought of that earlier. She wished she’d been able to stay in Kyona. Better to share whatever fate had befallen her siblings after their father’s murder than to be the last one left, far away and wondering what had become of everyone she cared about. No one in Valoria wanted her here, after all.
She pushed away from the wall, suddenly weary. She wasn’t being fair to Germain, and she knew it. Her husband had been kind and respectful, and it wasn’t his fault her heart was broken over what had happened in her homeland. If he wished he hadn’t married her, he was far too well-bred to show any sign of it. But she didn’t know him, not really. As Valoria’s crown prince, he had many duties, and it felt like they’d barely seen each other in the months since their wedding.
He had been kind to allow her to come on this trip at all, she acknowledged to herself. His family clearly thought him foolish to indulge her mad hunt for dragons. They disapproved of her, every one of them. They thought she should be content to stay in Bryford, fulfilling her role as a member of the royal family, not off chasing a fantasy.
But they didn’t understand. Dragons were real, she knew they were. And they had a friendship with her father’s house—her house. If only she could find them, surely they would help Kyona. She had to believe Jonathon had survived the usurper’s attack, that he was out there somewhere. If there was any chance he was, she had to find him somehow, to help him take the throne that was rightfully his.
Tears stung her eyes, tears for her family, for her kingdom, for the loss of a future that had seemed so sure and bright. She hated to think of her sisters, her little brother, dead or exiled. She could still feel Jonathon’s arms around her as he had hugged her on the day of her wedding. She had been proud of her brother, of the man he had grown into. What had happened to the round-faced laughing child for whom any of his sisters would have willingly made the terrible sacrifice Thalia made? When had he turned into the serious and capable young man before her?
The thought that her father’s line might end with his murder, that Jonathon might never be king, was more than she could bear.
She pounded a fist against the cave wall in frustration. It was all so futile. What could she do? Nothing. She couldn’t find her sisters, she couldn’t help Jonathon, she couldn’t even find the dragons. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Not that there had ever been much likelihood of that. It was always a slim chance that there really were dragons in Valoria. She knew where dragons were, of course. They were in the mountains. Kyona’s mountains. Her eyes pricked.
Her mountains.
But Germain had been clear. Once news had reached Valoria of the events at Kynton, Germain’s father, the king, had decreed that no one was to pass the border in either direction. And although Germain might be ready to let his Kyonan wife waste her time searching every corner of Valoria for any hint of dragons, he was adamant she was not to stray back into Kyona in her search. Even if he had been willing to defy his father’s decree—which of course he wasn’t—it was too dangerous, he said. Someone was trying to wipe her family out, and he had no intention of letting them get anywhere near her.
And although she had reflected at the time that some at the Valorian court might be delighted to be rid of the Kyonan alliance that now seemed more likely to be a liability than a strength, there had b
een no doubting the sincerity of Germain’s determination to keep his new wife safe.
She felt a twinge of guilt at the memory of Germain’s face as he offered to accompany her to this place. He had looked almost hopeful, as though he had really wanted to come, instead of offering from politeness. She wondered if she had been cruel to decline his escort. She had accepted the official delegation, of course, including the squadron of guards who came to protect her. No member of the royal family—Sarai included—would expect to be allowed to wander over the kingdom alone. But none of those people took an active interest in what she was doing, and she preferred it that way. If Germain came, he might want to share in her search—really share in it—and that thought scared her.
She sighed, loneliness welling up inside her at her isolation from everyone she had ever known. She had been willing enough to form the marriage alliance, as much as it grieved her to leave her homeland. But that had been before the coup. She had thought there would be regular communication between her and her family, frequent visits to Kyona. She had planned to host her sisters in her new home, hoping one of them might form an attachment to some Valorian noble, and come to live in Bryford with her.
But now her family house had been shattered, her kingdom desecrated, and the border closed. She was all alone, in a city where her welcome was now dubious at best. She had no one to turn to but a husband who was still little more than a stranger. But if she opened her heart to him, if she embraced him and by extension her new identity as a princess and future queen of Valoria, she was terrified she would lose who she was as a princess of Kyona. And she might be all that was left of her noble and ancient house.
Am I doing it all wrong? she asked herself, not for the first time. Am I a failure as a wife? She wished desperately she could talk to her mother. She would have been able to help Sarai find the answers—she had always had such insight. But she was dead, gone before Sarai had been wed. And now her father was dead too, murdered by a member of his own court. And perhaps neither of them would have been able to advise her anyway, she thought dully. They had married for love, not for a political alliance.
Legacy of the Curse Page 17
