She could jump down, run for her horse, and try to escape. Once she was safely away from the tower, the dragon was unlikely to pursue. After too many princesses had been won through trickery and the use of decoys, beastmasters had gotten smarter about training the creatures to guard their towers at all costs.
That idea rankled, though. She glanced resentfully toward the approaching dust cloud. Beth knew she had at least weakened the dragon with her near-victory. She couldn't bear to retreat and let someone else claim the glory and the princess.
At the thought of the princess, Beth glared up toward Cordelia's window. If she hadn't interfered…
Then Beth realized what she was thinking. The future of Cordelia's life was at stake here. She would have to live and rule with whoever defeated the dragon. Why should she sit by passively and watch? When Beth defended Tyrell Keep, the attackers surely had not expected a woman to organize powerful resistance. But she had always maintained that they should have. What person would simply let her home be conquered?
Beth's chest twinged with shame. As a woman herself, too often overlooked and underestimated by the people around her, she ought to have known better than to think of Cordelia as a prize. The title of knight, however, seemed to have gone to her head.
The truth was, Cordelia didn't want Beth to be the one to defeat the dragon, for whatever reason. Beth could strategize all day about winning the battle anyway or escaping with her life, but all that missed the point. The moment Cordelia showed her hand and began to act, she'd given Beth valuable information about the real nature of the conflict here. This wasn't a fight with a dragon—or it didn't need to be. It was a negotiation with Cordelia, a trained diplomat and formidably educated woman. Bargaining with her might be tough, but Beth had never heard any rumors suggesting she was bloodthirsty or unusually cruel.
Taking a deep breath, Beth redoubled her climbing efforts, now determined to reach the window.
"Princess!" she shouted. "Can we, uh, parley? Might you call off the dragon for a few minutes so we can discuss our situation?" Beth was panting so hard it took a while to get the sentences out, but it seemed important to use formal language.
The sound attracted the dragon's attention. Flame began to lick up the side of the tower. Beth could feel the heat through the bottoms of her boots. If this gambit didn't work, she'd signed her death warrant.
She breathed a sigh of relief when Cordelia's face appeared at the window. The princess made a whistling noise that seemed to stop the dragon's fire, though her expression remained tight and wary. "Parley?" Princess Cordelia cocked her head. "This isn't a siege."
Since she seemed willing to listen, Beth took a moment to catch her breath as best she could. She shifted her body to a somewhat more restful position, trying to arrange herself to make the wall of the tower, rather than her own tired muscles, hold as much of her weight as possible. She hoped they could come to an agreement quickly, because before long she was going to need to either finish the climb or drop down, and she would prefer to do that without dealing with a hostile dragon in the process.
Beth met Cordelia's gaze and felt a shock.
King Carlysle had described Princess Cordelia as beautiful, and had used all the fine courtly clichés to paint a picture of her rich brown eyes and soft plaited locks of ebony. Beth would have called her piercing instead. Cordelia's gaze seemed to slice open Beth's armor, allowing her to size up the woman behind the equipment. And though in most cases, a gaze like that would have made Beth feel small, Cordelia's made her feel seen. The details of Princess Cordelia's face—the slightly haughty chin, the roundness of the cheeks, the thickness of the eyebrows—seemed so much less important than the effect of her presence.
Beth struggled to find her voice, coughing a bit. "This could be considered a siege. I'm attacking. You're defending. The dragon is your soldier. I'm hoping to speak with the person who has the authority to make peace. Preferably not while my toenails are crisping."
Cordelia laughed, then frowned. "I always have trouble when the aggressor complains about how hard a siege can be," she said. Her voice was strong and carried easily, unaffected by the smoke or the stress of the situation. "The attacker can always choose to walk away. It's simple. No one is stopping you." She narrowed her eyes. "If you're frightened of making your retreat, I can personally guarantee the dragon won't chase after you. There's no need for us to kill here—as long as you give me your word you won't come back."
Beth gritted her teeth. Not only was she being summarily dismissed, she was being condescended to. "I still want the parley. Not while I'm clinging to the side of this tower, either."
"Your demands are growing."
"Let me climb up to the window."
"Surely you see how unwise a concession that would be for someone in my position. If I let every knight come up to my window to 'parley,' I could make few promises about my virtue to my eventual spouse."
It seemed like a good sign that Cordelia said spouse instead of husband. On the other hand, Beth's forearms had started to seize up. "Princess, please. On my honor."
Cordelia raised an eyebrow.
"I'll sit in the windowsill."
Cordelia waited just long enough that Beth started to worry she'd fall right into the dragon's maw. Then Cordelia made a different whistling noise. The beast's scales scraped against the ground. Beth glanced down, trying to interpret the effects of the command. The smoke had dissipated enough that Beth could see the dragon curled around the base of the tower like a cat around a favorite piece of furniture.
There was no way Beth could get down without landing on it somewhere. She focused on breathing slowly and steadily, keeping her panic suppressed.
Cordelia clucked her tongue. "The poor thing is hurt." She wore an expression of soft tenderness and concern that might have inspired feelings in Beth if it had been directed at her. As things stood, Cordelia's caring attention to all things dragon felt like insult piled upon injury.
"Princess. Do I have permission to approach? Another knight is coming. We don't have a lot of time."
"Another knight?" Cordelia's dark skin turned ashy. She leaned out the window and glanced toward the road. The dust cloud had gotten closer. She looked down at the dragon, and then shifted her attention to Beth. "Yes," she said. "Please come up to the windowsill."
If Beth had been less exhausted, she would have taken comfort in discovering that at least Cordelia wasn't cheering for the new arrival. However, the only relief she could feel at this point was in her shoulders, when she finally freed them of the weight of her entire body and suit of armor.
She found a relatively stable position in the window and let her arms fall bonelessly to her sides. It didn't feel as if she could lift them so much as an inch, not even if her life depended on it. That made this conversation all the more important.
"You don't want me to defeat the dragon," Beth said bluntly. The other knight's imminent arrival gave her little time to mince words.
Cordelia had the grace to blush. "You would have," she offered.
Beth returned a weary gaze. "Yes."
"I'm sorry." Cordelia sounded genuine. Now that Beth sat close to her, she couldn't help imagining what it would be like for them to live as spouses. Beth could envision them dividing the labors of ruling, but she wasn't sure what it would be like to share a bed with the woman in front of her. Would she be expected to, given that the traditional means of producing an heir wouldn't be available to her? On the other hand, maybe it would be seen as weakness or a sign of division if she never visited Cordelia's room at night.
She looked at Cordelia's face and imagined herself caressing it. When Lady Jeanne had gotten married, some people had talked about it being unnatural for two women to be together that way. Beth had used Lady Jeanne to make a point with the guard, but she hadn't spent much time picturing the realities. Beth had kissed and been kissed a few times in her life, with and without passion. She wondered how it would feel with Cordelia, wondered
if the contact would strike the spark in her body that would fuel her for deeper, more intimate exploration.
She was getting way ahead of herself.
Beth took a deep breath. "Is it personal?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Is it because you don't want to marry a woman? Or you're in love with someone else? Or you think my nose looks weird?"
Cordelia gave Beth an odd, unreadable look. "Is it personal for you?" she asked, her tone sharper than anything she'd used so far.
Beth swallowed. She didn't love Cordelia, and the woman deserved better than to be lied and pretended to. At the same time, she truly was trying to remember that the princess was a person and not a prize, that a spouse was a partner and not a political convenience. "I'd hoped maybe it could be," Beth said honestly.
Cordelia's expression softened, taking on a touch of the affection she'd shown toward the dragon. "Good answer," she said. Her fingers twitched, and for a moment Beth thought Cordelia might reach out to her. Then she turned away abruptly, leaving Beth with little to interpret beyond the smooth, apparently untroubled line of her shoulders and the carefully embroidered filigree that ran down the back of her gown. "It's just what a knight ought to say when sitting on a princess's windowsill."
Surprise coursed through Beth, and the sting of accusation. "You think I'm lying?"
"I think you'd make a good politician. A good ruler. I see why my father recognized you with the title he did." Her voice took on a bitter cast. "I see why he didn't stop you from trying to win my hand."
"Princess—"
"It isn't personal." Cordelia's body was tight and controlled, but her tone made it clear that there were thoughts and feelings she couldn't contain. "Of course, it isn't. I can't really afford personal in my position, can I? You understand the world enough to see that."
"Yes." Beth thought about all the ways she felt the same. She had the odd impulse to stand and go to Cordelia, to close the distance between them until her front pressed against Cordelia's back, to wrap her arms around the other woman and try to make her feel safe. That was what a knight ought to do, wasn't it? When entering a princess's room through her windowsill?
Beth shook her head. The romantic story was getting to her. No matter how pragmatic she tried to be, it was hard to keep it away. The combination of knight, princess, and dragon made for heady stuff, even if none of the three of them quite represented the versions a bard would have sung about.
"I hadn't let myself hope it could be personal," Cordelia said, her voice hitching. "And you… Well, you've probably heard the rumors about me."
"What rumors?"
Cordelia faced Beth. Despite how small and vulnerable she'd sounded, she presented a perfectly royal presence, powerful and strong. She smiled ironically. "Another thing a good knight ought to say."
It's real, though. Beth didn't know how to make Cordelia believe her, so she stayed silent.
"The rumors don't matter right now. Neither does the question of the personal. What matters is that another knight is on the way, and I don't want my dragon to be killed."
Beth felt the test coming just before it landed.
"I'm going to ask you something, Sir Elizabeth. Are you interested in winning? Completing the task my father set? Or do you want to do what serves me?"
Silly Notions
Cordelia felt a bit guilty about putting Sir Elizabeth in this position. King or princess? Country or ruler? The way things were or the way things could be?
On the other hand, she didn't have a choice. It would take time to make more vials of the magic she'd used to help her dragon. She'd stopped Sir Elizabeth from killing it, and she didn't want to regret that decision. She would, though, if that meant she'd have to marry whatever man had come to take his chances right behind the female knight.
Unless his timing was an accident, that guy had just the attitude toward women that Cordelia hated most. Out loud, he'd probably say he knew Sir Elizabeth couldn't beat the dragon, and he'd timed his arrival so he might have a chance to save a woman who was an asset to the kingdom, along with the princess. In his heart, he probably knew what a good warrior Sir Elizabeth was and hoped to catch both her and the dragon weakened, and take advantage of the situation.
Cordelia clenched her teeth. She didn't want to play into the hands of a man like that, and she feared she already had.
She glanced at Sir Elizabeth. Her helmet made it hard to read her expression—only glimpses of her face were visible. She seemed tense, though. Uncertain. Cordelia needed to sweeten the pie.
"If you hope this could be personal... between us…" Cordelia's throat tightened, and she couldn't finish her sentence. It could be. It seemed like it could be, and Cordelia felt like a foolish girl because of that. For all the protestations she'd gone through in her own mind about how she didn't want to marry the only woman available to her, it was glaringly obvious to her now Sir Elizabeth stood before her in the flesh that what her father had tried to do for her made a difference. The act of consummating a marriage with a man... that was something she'd never allowed herself to think about. Deeply, viscerally, she never wanted to have to do that. With Sir Elizabeth, though… Had Cordelia imagined the spark of speculation she'd thought she'd seen in the knight's eyes? She didn't know how it would feel if they touched, but she was curious. She wanted to find out what it would be like.
Then there was the matter of Sir Elizabeth's courtly responses. Cordelia had always thought other women odd for swooning over knights and all things chivalric. None of the old romantic stories had ever stirred her blood. She had always sat back and analyzed them for clues about politics.
Now, though she tried to keep that same tone with her replies to Sir Elizabeth, she felt something deeper affecting her. Having a woman be gallant with her—What rumors? Sir Elizabeth had said, as if there was anyone in or around the palace who had remained ignorant of Cordelia's scandal—touched her in a place she hadn't known existed. She wanted Sir Elizabeth to sweep her up and rescue her, though that wish made her feel silly and weak. There were dreams Cordelia had never allowed herself to have, desires that on some level she'd always known could never be fulfilled. She'd told herself that was because of the political realities of being a princess, but now Sir Elizabeth had come along, and Cordelia realized she'd denied herself for reasons far beyond politics.
"Princess…" Sir Elizabeth's armor clanked as she climbed from the windowsill into the room.
Don't touch me, Cordelia thought. Don't get any closer, or something in me is going to break.
Sir Elizabeth stopped moving as if the words had been spoken aloud. "Tell me what you need," she said. Her words didn't make any promises, but her tone did.
"I need time," Cordelia said, and was horrified to hear the hitch of tears in her voice as she did. She had a plan, one she'd come up with using logic and strategy and pragmatism. She went on talking, though, beyond what she'd meant to say, and what came out sounded uncomfortably personal and raw. "I want… I don't know what I want. I don't want the dragon to die. I don't want to get married today. I don't want…"
She looked at the knight who had come for her. Sir Elizabeth betrayed no sign of judgment in her posture or her expression. She had to have been weary—soot streaked her armor, and sticky blood spots, and at least some of that had belonged to her—but she didn't show it. She stood listening with her full attention, and there was a slight quiver in the air, as if from a taut bowstring ready to let fly the arrow of Cordelia's intention.
"I don't want you to die," Cordelia admitted. She had not cared about the wounds of the other knights, but she had the sudden urge to ask after Sir Elizabeth's now. It was the place of a princess in a story to offer tokens of affection, to wind bandages around abused limbs, to kiss away hurt. Those were foolish things to do, Cordelia had always thought, but she wanted to do them now.
Sir Elizabeth's lips pressed into a line. She glanced out the window, toward the knight and the dragon, then back a
t Cordelia. "I'll stay alive for you," she said slowly.
Shame flashed through Cordelia. She'd meant to refer to the personal to win Sir Elizabeth to her cause, not to get caught up in fantasies herself. What did it matter what a princess in a story would have done? There was no time right now for Cordelia to reward Sir Elizabeth's hardness with loving softness. This was no moment to fantasize about the excuses that might get Sir Elizabeth out of her armor, about what it would take to see the woman beneath the battle-hardened warrior.
And Sir Elizabeth… Cordelia still didn't know if she felt for her or was simply practiced in speaking as a knight should. I'll stay alive for you… Was there anything more perfectly romantic? Cordelia couldn't trust it, and she couldn't trust the way it was affecting her.
She lacked the practice she needed. Not being inclined to respond this way to men, it had been easy to keep her thinking realistic when they attempted to woo her. And with Malia... well, there hadn't been much speaking in those encounters.
Cordelia squared her shoulders and did her best to return to her regal demeanor. She delivered her plan as coldly and matter-of-factly as she could manage. Romantic situation aside, she wanted to sound like a monarch in command of an army and all its knights, not like a crying weakling in need of protection from a stronger woman. "The dragon can fly me away from here," Cordelia said. "But you wounded it. If a knight tries to stop it now, I don't know if it can battle its way out."
Sir Elizabeth's gaze burned into hers, and Cordelia wondered what she was really thinking. "You want me to promise to let you get away."
"I want you to make sure no knight stops me from getting out of this tower."
"You want me to fight the one who's coming."
"If you have to."
Sir Elizabeth set her lips into a grim line. She hesitated for so long before answering that Cordelia thought she would refuse. Finally, she said, "It will be as you wish."
To the Victor Page 3
