Dragon Princess

by S. Andrew Swann

  Her head rose and she shook it in confusion. “What? What property? What service?”

  “The prior owner of that body wagered its service to the fae. We are owed a dragon.”

  “What? He wagered with you, I didn’t.”

  The Grand Inquisitor turned toward me, ignoring the cries of protest from the dragon.

  “It wasn’t me!”

  He pointed a finger at me and I could feel my heart stop beating for a moment. I had no idea what punishment I was in for, or what crime I may have committed; all I knew was that I wasn’t going to like what the Inquisitor had to say.

  I was right, but not in the way I thought.

  “You,” said the Grand Inquisitor, “are free to go.”

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The bars slid into the ground around me until I stood, unrestrained, on the arena floor.

  Needless to say, this didn’t go over that well with my former fellow prisoners.

  “You’re just letting him go? He admitted to you that he was a thief, an outlaw—”

  “He has stolen nothing from us,” said the Inquisitor. “Unlike some—”

  He had to sidestep a jet of flame. “He was supposed to be a knight. And now you’re just letting him go?”

  “Lucille, I didn’t mean to—”

  I had to dodge some fire myself.

  “You’re letting him go? In my body? He lied to me!”

  The Inquisitor was unmoved. He brushed off his robes and said, “Frank Blackthorne has not lied to us.”

  Another thunderclap from the bailiff’s staff ended the court, and the Grand Inquisitor walked back toward the exit, leaving me standing there dumbfounded.

  “Wait a minute!” I ran after him. Behind me I heard dragons former and current cursing after me.

  “Just wait!” I interposed myself between the Grand Inquisitor and the exit.

  The bailiff raised his staff and looked about to give me a taste of what the floor was getting, but the Grand Inquisitor raised his hand, stopping him. “What is it, Frank Blackthorne?”

  “Why release me and not her? Lucille’s done nothing to you.”

  “She is in the possession of our property.”

  “She hasn’t wagered anything with you.”

  “That has little to do with it. She is in receipt of property that was forfeited to us. It is our right to recover that property. Beyond that, actions on her part are irrelevant.”

  “It isn’t property. It’s her! You’re imprisoning an innocent woman.”

  “True,” the Inquisitor admitted. “But when the dragon wagered the last of his gold, he wagered his service in thrall to the fae crown. The elf king is owed the service of a dragon for the next thousand years.”

  “A thousand—” I took a step forward and felt the bailiff’s staff smack painfully across my boobs. I stumbled back and the Grand Inquisitor strode past me. As he walked by he said, “You should take your leave while you are still free to do so.”

  I called after him. “This isn’t Lendowyn, you can’t hold her accountable for something the prior occupant of that body did.”

  I think I heard the Inquisitor sigh. He turned around. “We do not hold her responsible.” He took a step forward, and his voice rose slightly and his eyes hardened. “But understand this, Frank Blackthorne, and if you are wise you will take this truth to your grave. The fae do not absolve debts.” He reached out and touched a finger to my chest just above my collar. His finger on my skin felt icy and remorseless. “We will always be paid. This does not change based on any hardship on your part. It does not change should you decide to die in our debt. And it certainly does not change should some random mortal choose to inhabit what is owed us. To this point I have shown considerable lenience because you have done the fae no ill. But my tolerance for your insufferable questioning has worn thin.” When he withdrew his finger I realized with a gasping wheeze that I’d been holding my breath. “The princess’s unfortunate luck is not our problem. Nor is it yours, Frank Blackthorne.”

  “Really?” I muttered. “Have you taken a good look at me?”

  He started to turn away, and against my better judgment I asked, “Can’t you do something for her?”

  His voice rose in volume and lowered in tone. “You question the judgment of this court?”

  I raised my hands. “No. No. Never. It’s done. Verdict and all. I understand. You get a dragon for a thousand years. It’s yours. But, can I talk to you outside your capacity as Inquisitor?”

  “Grand Inquisitor!” the bailiff intoned.

  The Grand Inquisitor looked at me and sighed. He looked over at the bailiff and said, “You’re dismissed.”

  The bailiff saluted with his staff and took a step back into the shadows. Before I saw where he disappeared to, the Grand Inquisitor waved me along to follow him.

  • • •

  We walked past the entrance to the arena, across the broad golden road to a hillside overlooking the spun-sugar city. Other elves were about, but unlike any other city I’d been in, no one could be considered to be in a hurry, and no one seemed to show any curiosity at my presence. The looks I received were cursory at best.

  I guess I should have been grateful. Most of my life, any undue attention I received in a strange place was always a bad thing.

  Above us, the strange sun and moon had drifted together to the point where they nearly touched. The Grand Inquisitor stopped at a line of smooth, polished stones at the crown of the hillside. The stones were about thigh high, perfectly cubical, and displayed various colors; from a stormy blue-black granite to something with the color and markings of a star sapphire. He sat on the sapphire cube, and gestured to me to take another seat on a cube of speckled ruby.

  “You can’t challenge the court’s ruling,” he told me as I sat. “There is no appeal.”

  I nodded. I knew the fights I could pick, and directly challenging the elvish legal system was not one of them. “I know. But aren’t there other options?”

  “Like what?”

  “Aren’t you guys renowned for your skills in magic? Isn’t there someone here who could take her and put her in the right body?” I looked down at myself and smoothed the drape of my dress where it fell over the princess’s thighs. “I mean, since we have it right here.”

  I think the Inquisitor’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you seriously suggesting that?”

  I shrugged. “She doesn’t deserve being trapped in some stupid wager the dragon made.”

  “Even if you could pay the fees of such a service, what would you have done with yourself?”

  “Well if you put the dragon back where he belongs, you can stick me in Elhared . . . You’d have no reason to hold either of us then.”

  He stroked his chin as if considering it, but he finally shook his head. “No, Frank Blackthorne. Even if you found a willing mage under the hill . . . The dragon is too valuable a commodity to risk just to salve your mortal conscience.”

  “What? Why?” I stared at my knees and tried to ignore the quaver in my voice and the way my vision blurred.

  He explained that it would be very dangerous for even the most skilled practitioner to do such a spell to unenchanted individuals, more so now that everyone involved suffered from a prior spell. Without an exact duplication of the prior rite—in other words, without Elhared’s evil spell book of evilness—it was possible that an attempt would just completely sever a soul’s connection to the material realm.

  “Dead dragons aren’t particularly useful,” he said.

  Not unless you want to marry Lendowyn princesses.

  “It is over. Even if I were moved to release the dragon, that decision was never in my hands.”

  I raised my head and looked at him.

  “Whose hands is it in, then?”

  • • •

  The palace of the Elf-King Timoras, lord of all realms under the hill, sovereign of the Winter Court, was not that difficult to find. All one had to do was stand somewhere in
the fae realms and walk in the direction that got colder. Wherever in the realms you were, a thousand paces in that direction brought you to the aptly named Winter Palace.

  In my opinion, they went a little overboard on the theme. You entered the frost-covered palace and found yourself attempting not to slide and fall on a floor made of ice, walking between icicle columns that supported a roof that appeared to be the better part of a blizzard frozen in place—so to speak.

  As easy as it was to find the place, getting an audience with the elf-king himself was somewhat more difficult, even when I name-dropped the Grand Inquisitor and said he’d sent me. With all the functionaries, viceroys, and guardsmen who shunted me from one to the other, I began to expect that Lucille’s terms of service might actually conclude before I got anywhere.

  But, as long as it may have seemed to me, it ended up being less than a day. I think. It was hard to tell since the elves never seemed to sleep, and what glimpses I got of the sky never did give me any hint how to tell night from day.

  All I knew was that, when I finally got an audience with the elf-king, I was exhausted and ravenous. Unfortunately, what little I knew about the fae realms told me that eating or sleeping during a visit would not be the wisest thing to do.

  Then again, no one had accused me of having an overabundance of wisdom.

  They escorted me into a mostly empty room dominated by a dais and a massive icy throne. The long-limbed monarch sprawled on the throne, leaning against one arm while his legs draped over the other. An elaborate fur-trimmed brocade cape cascaded from his shoulders, over the arm of the throne, to pile on the floor. A crown graced his brow, cocked at a slight angle as he stared up into the unmoving blizzard of a ceiling. His hand cradled a silver chalice and raised it toward me in a somewhat mocking gesture. “A toast to what isles of distraction we can find in the great ocean of tedium.”

  “Your Highness,” I said in a way that I hoped was properly deferential.

  He cocked an eyebrow in my direction and said, “Your Lowness.” He tossed the chalice behind the throne where it landed with a clatter. “One of my endless retinue must suspect you have something of interest to say. Unfortunately, they are rarely correct.” He swung his legs around so he was in a normal sitting position, showing suddenly how tall he actually was, a head taller than any average elf, who were abnormally tall and lanky to begin with. It made it easier for me to keep the appropriately submissive gaze, since I’d have to strain the princess’s neck to look him in the eye. “Are you afraid, young lady?”

  I bristled at the address, even though my reaction made no objective sense. “Young lady” wasn’t nearly the least appropriate thing he could have called me at the moment—it was technically correct after all. I shook my head and told the truth. “I’ve been too preoccupied to think of it, Your Highness.”

  “Oh, please dispense with the formality. It is so predictably boring. Did anyone tell you what the price is to petition me?”

  “No, Your—no.”

  He chuckled.

  Now I was afraid. I looked up and found his eyes. “What is the price?”

  He clapped his hands. “There we go.”

  I was tired, and hungry, and my nerves were frayed. I couldn’t keep up the façade anymore. I snapped at the elf-king, “What game are we playing now?”

  He stood up so quickly I felt a chill breeze as displaced air blew past my face. He bent and grabbed my chin, tilting my face up as he bent down. His lips brushed my cheek, the skin so cold it burned. Then, his face next to mine, he whispered into my ear. “Entertain me.”

  I stumbled a few steps back. “What?”

  “Entertain me. That is the price. Tell me anything. Request anything, but . . .” He straightened up and pointed a finger at me. “Do. Not. Be. Boring.”

  CHAPTER 19

  The elf-king looked me over, his face grave as a marble cenotaph, finger pointing at me as if he was some apparition manifesting to single me out for some special damnation.

  I couldn’t help it. I started giggling.

  In my normal body I’d like to think I might have controlled the impulse. Giggle fits were not the most manly of afflictions. However, I suspect even if I had had my full measure of masculinity at hand, I still would have been unable to withstand the inherent ridiculousness of the situation.

  The elf-king lowered his finger and arched an eyebrow.

  “T-that—” I raised my hand to hold off any questions as I gasped for breath. “T-that . . . shouldn’t be a p-problem.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that, young lady.”

  The “young lady,” made me start giggling again.

  He looked down at me as I tried to gain control, “Was I unclear? I am the one who desires amusement.” His grave expression made me start again.

  Damn it, I’m going to get myself killed doing this.

  For some reason, that thought was even funnier.

  He looked down at me as if I had gone completely mad, which was evidently the case. Then he strode back to his throne and plopped himself down. “Young lady, this is becoming tiresome—”

  “P-please—” I held up my hands in a pleading gesture. “D-don’t call me ‘young lady.’” I took a couple of deep breaths. “My name’s Frank Blackthorne.”

  “Frank? That is an unusual name for a mortal woman.”

  I held my breath to kill the giggles and spoke through clenched teeth. “That’s because it isn’t.”

  “Explain.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and asked, “Your people told you nothing about me or why I’m here?”

  He made a dismissive gesture. “Some random mortal who passed through the Grand Inquisitor’s court. Acquitted for some inexplicable reason. You aren’t unique.”

  “Really?”

  “Every one of them will end up here with the same tired pleas.” He raised his voice in a mocking tone, “‘Please, please, Your Highness. I’m innocent, give me passage back home.’” He leaned forward, folding his arms across his knees. “All I ask is an entertaining story. Is that so much? Yet they all end up so bland I end up with a firstborn or something equally ridiculous just to provide a guide out from under the hill.”

  I’d been too preoccupied to have thought that far ahead.

  “That isn’t me,” I told the elf-king.

  “Is that true? Frank? There is more to you than an unusual name?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “And you aren’t here to plead for a way home.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Why are you before me then?”

  “I want your dragon.”

  The throne room was silent for a few long moments. My words hung in the air, wrapped in my clouded breath that was almost motionless. The elf-king stared at me, eyebrow arching.

  “You have captured my interest, Frank Blackthorne.”

  • • •

  If nothing else, the elf-king seemed to find my travails amusing. This was the second time I’d related my story in a short period of time, but I found it cathartic to complain about the farce my life had become. I didn’t begrudge the elf-king his laughter. I was laughing just as hard at times, though in my case it was nerves and exhaustion. In the elf-king’s case, he seemed to find anything involving Sir Forsythe and the Royal Court of Grünwald absolutely hilarious.

  In retrospect, that really should have been a clue.

  I concluded my story with a bow, feeling like the cliché bard in the ballad who, after regaling the crown with an incredible tale, is granted his heart’s desire. I certainly seemed to have achieved the goal of entertaining the elf-king.

  “So,” I asked him. “Now you know everything, will you please release Lucille to return with me?”

  He laughed and applauded my performance.

  “Of course not,” he said.

  My smile froze on my face. “Why not?”

  “You earned yourself a guide back to the world of men, but the dragon? Seriously? I
have a millennia of service due from that creature regardless of who inhabits its skull, and all you’ve done is assure me that I now have a most unique and interesting dragon.”

  I shook my head, all the effort and fatigue crashing into me at once.

  “Oh, come on,” the elf-king said, “Why do you care? You do realize that your role as the hero was all a sham. You were never intended to save the princess, really. Your straining against that destiny is probably the most amusing thing about your fate.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What do I want?”

  “For the dragon. What do you want from me to release her?”

  He’d been leaning forward during my story, and now he slowly sat up straight and cocked his head. “I thought I made it clear. I want the dragon.”

  “A wager? Aren’t you elves into that? Some sort of diabolical bet? Is that what you want?”

  He laughed, but I heard more pity in it than amusement. “Frank Blackthorne, you have nothing with which to stake such a wager. Besides, the house always wins.”

  “But—”

  He held up his hand in the first regal gesture I had seen from him. “Desperation is not becoming. Accept your own good fortune and depart in peace, before this becomes a tiring exercise.”

  I swallowed and clenched my fists. “So there’s no argument that would convince you to release her?”

  “No.”

  “In my current body I have all the legal rights and possessions of the princess of Lendowyn—nothing she has?”

  “Mortal kingdoms do not interest me.”

  “Nothing I could give? Nothing I could do?”

  “No.”

  “There’s nothing—anywhere—that you desire more than the service of that dragon?”

  The elf-king sighed. “There’s nothing that you have or could give me.”

  “Ah. Nothing I personally have at the moment. But, perhaps you should reconsider what I might give you, given my talents and some time.”

  Silence fell across the throne room again, and the elf-king looked past me at something only he could see. Slowly he smiled.