by Melody Rose
I pressed my forehead to my door and thumped it gently against the wood. I only did it twice, though it sounded like a knock. Surprisingly, from the other side of the door, I heard movement. The sound caused me to jerk upright and pull my forehead away from the wood. I looked left, then right, and concluded I was at the right door.
Someone was in my room.
My thoughts, once a jumble of worries, cleared with a new sense of urgency. I reached down and slid a dagger out of the inside of my boot. It rested nicely in the palm of my hand, and I was comforted by its weight. I called to the light and asked it to come in my free hand. It obliged with a dim glow, seeming to know that discretion was key.
I wrapped my hand around the handle and pushed the lever down as slowly as I could. The door ticked open like the hand on a clock, and I slipped inside. The room was dark as I had left it, with no burning torches or fire in the hearth. The only light was a dim glow from the moon through the slit in the curtains.
I knew I was in a vulnerable position here and that anyone in the room would have the jump on me. The situation sent shots of electricity through my nerves and forced my senses to be on high alert. So when a voice came from the direction of my bed, the first thing I did was throw the dagger towards it.
“I wondered when you would be coming to bed.”
The thunk told me that the dagger split through my wooden headboard, and the voice that came through the darkness made me really glad that I missed.
“Holy shit, Eva!” Kehn exclaimed. He tumbled out of bed, and now that my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see his broad figure approach. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“I didn’t know it was you,” I argued in my defense. “I didn’t expect to find anyone in my bed this late.”
“Well, you are lucky, I was about to give up on the endeavor completely,” Kehn said as he stepped closer in the inky black.
“What endeavor?” I asked, utterly confused.
“I thought we could both use some relaxing before tomorrow.” Kehn reached out but retreated when he noticed my dimly glowing hand. “You might want to… uh, stop the light, so I don’t amplify it.”
A memory flashed of a surge of bright white light flashing between Kehn and me when I touched him once with my light. Kehn’s gift from his djer, Uri, was the ability to enhance other gifts. One only had to touch him with their ability, and their own power grew somehow, often to dangerous proportions. My light happened to super heal him from the contamination, but the light itself nearly blinded us both.
So, I recalled the light, and the room fell into complete darkness. Kehn’s outline was fainter now, but I could see when he closed the gap between us and ran his hands up my arms. The heat trailed along my skin, and I nearly melted then and there. However, a self-conscious voice settled in right when Kehn moved his head forward for a kiss.
“Wait,” I said abruptly.
Kehn paused. “What is it?”
“You broke this off.” I pointed my finger back and forth at the two of us. “We haven’t been together since then. What changed?”
“I am not dying anymore,” Kehn said with a shrug.
“You mean you’re not lying to me anymore,” I corrected with a step backward.
“I did not lie to you,” Kehn protested. “I was trying to protect you.”
“I understand that,” I relented, “however, you didn’t tell me that you were dying and that is a problem.”
“I thought it was for the best,” Kehn said, his voice near a whimper. “Haven’t you lied because you didn’t want to hurt another person?”
While it wasn’t exactly the same, my thoughts flew back to my conversation with the dragons and how I betrayed Gideonia by using her gift when I promised not to. Suddenly, the emotional turmoil of that encounter and the anxiety of the impending journey flooded back to me. My knees buckled slightly, and I almost fell over. Kehn rushed forward and straightened me up by the shoulders.
“Eva,” he said worriedly, “what’s wrong?”
“I’m…” I struggled to get the words out. “I’m just really tired. And scared. Scared and tired.”
“Me telling you not to worry is not going to help right now, is it?” Kehn said with a half-smile.
I shook my head. “I think the only thing that can help me right now is a bed.”
Kehn took my hand, and I let him. Gently, he guided me to my own bed. I followed like a rag doll and plopped down accordingly. Slowly, and with a surprising amount of care, Kehn removed my shoes and my heavy coat. The gestures weren’t sensual but tender and caring. He stripped me down to the bare essentials and pulled back the blankets.
“Get in,” he commanded.
I listened and did as I was told. The sheets were warm from his body lying in wait for me. I curled into a ball and tucked the blankets around my shoulders. Kehn bent down and kissed me lightly on the forehead.
“Goodnight, Eva,” he whispered.
“Kehn?” I said, my voice caught in my throat.
“Yes?” he asked, but I left his question in the air, hanging awkwardly.
I knew what I wanted to say, but the request stayed unspoken. Instead, I leaned over slightly and patted the space on the bed behind me. It was his side of the bed, so to speak, whenever we slept together. I didn’t want to do anything more than sleep, but something about the idea of having another body beside me, an extra presence to ward off the fear, felt right.
Kehn didn’t need to hear the request. He knew what I wanted, almost instinctively. The large man, with his firm muscles and wide shoulders, crawled into bed next to me. He pressed his chest against my back and wrapped his arms around me. Kehn’s breath felt hot on the back of my neck, and I matched my breathing to his until I settled into a steady rhythm.
He held me tight, and at that moment, I felt more protected than if I had Lucien’s green armor on. Finally, I crashed into a deep sleep.
At first, I wasn’t sure if I was actually asleep because my dream opened up in the white space. I never visited the white space when I was asleep, so this was an unusual experience. The other thing that never happened in the white space was a woman appearing.
She wore her golden hair into a braid that wrapped around her head like a crown. Her heart-shaped face was blemish-free and seemed to glow like the moonlight outside. Her dress was of familiar Andsdyer nobility with a corset, velvet cloth, and long sleeves. The dress was black, accented with gold trim and a rope that acted as her belt.
Her violet eyes bore into mine with such intensity that I nearly fell over. Then, they softened into a smile.
“Hello Eva,” the woman said with a melodic voice, something close to a lullaby. “My name’s Irena. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
4
“Irena?” I blurted rudely. “Like, as in Queen Irena?”
Apparently, any manners I ever learned, either back on Earth or in Andsdyer, flew out the window when I was in the presence of a dead queen.
Irena laughed with her head thrown back and eyes closed. She settled down and looked back at me with a beauty pageant smile.
“I was queen once, yes, but you can call me Irena. There’s no need for formalities here,” Irena said.
“Yeah, but I’ve only ever heard of you as Queen Irena, so it might be a little hard to break that habit,” I admitted.
“Fair enough,” Irena said with a shrug. “It is really good to meet you.”
“I’d say the same, but I have this weird feeling that you coming here is rather ominous,” I confessed, again, rather rudely. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought we should talk,” Irena admitted with a casual air as if we’d stumbled into each other at the market.
“Now?” I blinked, baffled. “You want to talk now?”
“Now is as good a time as any,” she said. Irena, then, gestured to two armchairs that appeared out of nowhere. They were red and plushy, with a welcoming feel to them. They tempted me to sit in them and sink i
n, never to get up.
“Maybe we should stand,” I suggested. “I don’t plan on being here that long.”
“Is that so?” Irena wondered. “Why do you say that?”
“Again, just another weird feeling,” I said.
I wasn’t lying. The minute the former queen identified herself, my guts had tied themselves into impossible knots. Accompanied by a flare of anger, trepidation coated my organs and stiffened my joints.
“Do you get a lot of weird feelings?” Irena asked, again too casually for comfort.
“Why do I feel like I’m in a therapy session?” I said, only half-joking.
“Is that what you think this is?” Irena said with a raised eyebrow. “I never went to therapy, so I only know what it’s like from TV shows.”
I blinked rapidly in utter surprise. I hadn’t heard the word “TV” in so long. It felt like someone from a foreign language, especially coming from the mouth of this woman dressed like she popped out of the Renaissance Faire. Andsdyer didn’t have the modern technological conveniences of my day, so I had all but forgotten words like “TV,” “cell phones,” or “cars.”
“Eva?” Irena checked in on me, bringing me back to the present.
“Yeah, sorry,” I stuttered, “I was just caught up on the use of the word ‘TV’ and had to almost remember what it was.”
“You won’t ever forget if that’s what you’re worried about,” Irena assured me. “I never got truly accustomed to life in Andsdyer, but eventually, as I got older, the memories of Earth faded. I’m sure I could still figure out a computer or a microwave if I needed to. Or ride a bicycle. Drive a car. But it might take a bit.”
“Did you ever miss it?” I found myself asking. Then I slapped my forehead. “Man, this is a therapy session. You don’t have to answer that.”
“I don’t mind,” Irena said with a chuckle. “I did miss it. The amenities mostly, all of the conveniences of modern times. But not the people. I didn’t have anyone when I left. I guess that is what made it so easy.”
I thought back to my empty life and the lack of people in it. Ever since my parents passed away, I struck out on my own. Most of that was by choice because getting too close to people in my past hurt too much. I was too afraid to get close to anyone to set up a future with them. All of that changed in Andsdyer when Chyndron gave me a fresh start. What I had not anticipated was the whole chosen one, save the world bit.
“It’s a bit like playing Alice, don’t you think?” Irena said with a chuckle. “But instead of following the rabbit, we followed the dragon?”
“I said the same thing when I first ventured down.” The memory came back to me, and I matched her giggles. “Chyndron didn’t know what I was talking about.”
“Do you find yourself making references, and then whoever you’re talking to looks at you like you’re crazy?” Irena said, her chuckles raising.
“More often than I would like,” I replied with an eye roll. “I really feel like an alien sometimes.”
“So, I thought you could use some help,” Irena offered. She gestured to the chairs again. “Are you sure you won’t sit down?”
“Why do you want to help me? Especially now?” I shot at her, my words harsh and pointed, suddenly becoming more defensive than before. “If this was a possibility, why didn’t you come sooner? I could have really used your help earlier.”
“I know,” Irena said with a sigh. “And I wanted to help you, but I only get limited time and a few shots at this. I thought you would succeed before, and I was right. Now, though, you’re at an impasse that I don’t think you can get through without my help.”
“Well, go ahead then,” I said as I cocked a hip to the side and crossed my arms over my chest. “Help away.”
Irena sighed again, this time heavier and more dramatic. “I have to tell you a story.”
“Really?” I switched my weight to the other side and cocked out that hip. “You can’t just give me the answer, and we can be on our way?”
“The answer is in the story,” Irena exclaimed, the first hint of impatience slipping through in her voice. “Which is why I suggest you sit so I can begin.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I physically bit my tongue and stomped over to the chair closest to me. I sat down on the edge of it, my back straight and refusing to slump against the comfortable cushions. I looked up at Irena expectantly.
The queen glided to the other chair and gracefully planted herself on it. The skirt of her dress fanned out around her, and her posture was the envy of any queen, with the lifted chin, pushed back shoulders, and elegant long neck. Her beauty slapped you in the face, and I wondered if I would ever look that way, a mix between confident, beautiful, and vicious.
“Please don’t start with ‘Once Upon A Time,’” I interrupted before she could get started.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Irena said briskly. “Though now that you have told me not to, I am sorely tempted to do so.”
I sucked my teeth. “You are the queen, you can do what you want, I guess.”
“Thank you for your permission,” Irena scoffed. “As I figure it, I am no longer queen. That title has been passed to you.”
“You can have it back,” I grunted, my arms tightening across my chest. “I’m not very good at it.”
“Neither was I,” Irena admitted. “I was a crappy listener and very stubborn about doing things my way. Leadership isn’t about dragging along everyone behind you on the way to your goals. It’s about guiding others to the collective goal, one that you all believe in.”
“Did you steal that from a fortune cookie?” I joked.
“No, but I remember a self-help book or two from college,” Irena said with a smirk. “Can I tell my story now?”
“Sure,” I said. “You’re the one who went off on a tangent about leadership.”
Suddenly, Irena’s face broke into a sad smile. Her eyes glistened with the start of tears, and her lips remained closed though stretched across her face.
“Wow,” she breathed through tight lips. “It’s quite remarkable.”
“What is?” I asked suspiciously.
“How much you remind me of my sister,” Irena complimented. “You are impatient and have a quick-wit. Please tell me you’re an artist. That would just be icing on the cake.”
I swallowed, a pebble in my throat. “Chalk art. I draw chalk art.”
“Ah,” Irena said softly. “She used charcoal. Not the same but similar.”
“Different canvases mostly,” I said, my own voice near a whisper.
“She used to say the same thing.” Irena blinked, and a tear caught on the tip of her eyelash. It hung there like a raindrop clinging to a leaf.
“What happened to her?” I found myself asking. Suddenly, my gut feeling about being here for a short time eased, and the clenching in my intestines loosening.
“She died,” Irena said simply. “As I’m sure your family members did. It’s one of the requirements, you know. It helps us be able to leave our world behind.”
“My parents,” I replied with a grunt.
“Typical,” Irena said with a joking tone. “They always want their heroes to be orphans.”
“So it would seem,” I said, unsure what to say next. “Is the hero of your story an orphan too?”
“There isn’t a hero in my story,” Irena hinted. “It’s more of a fable. Are you listening?”
“Yeah,” I said after a moment’s hesitation, though I didn’t know why.
Irena released a big breath and scooted herself further back into the chair. She widened her arms and rested one on either side of the chair, her wrists hanging limply over the edge.
“Andsdyer was not the only kingdom on this land,” Irena began, her voice changing to one of an experienced storyteller. “There used to be two: Andsdyer and Rictorus. Rictorus was a kingdom in the mountains, where the dragons dwelled. When I brought the two kingdoms together, we united the species but not the pal
aces. We resolved to let the dragons continue to have their mountain kingdom, though the two realms would now live in peace and understanding of one another.”
“Rictorus is where Reon is!” I exclaimed. I hopped up out of the chair, thinking I solved the puzzle. “That has to be the mountain Jae was talking about. And the one Chyndron brought me too when I was knocked out.”
“Chyndron,” Irena said wistfully like she was testing out the name on her lips for the first time. “How is he?”
“Fine,” I said, not really knowing how to answer her. “I mean, he’s alive and well.”
“It makes me glad to hear it.” Irena put a hand to her chest and bowed her head as if praying. After a moment, she lifted her head and continued. “We opened our doors to the dragons, and the court welcomed them.”
“Except for the fact that none of them can fit in the Menagerie,” I interjected.
“They never stayed with us,” Irena said defensively. “If they did, they remained in the Gardens.”
“No wonder they’re so familiar with it,” I said off-handedly. Irena shot me an annoyed look, and I gulped. “Sorry. Continue.”
“While we welcomed the dragons, none of them ever revealed the location of Rictorus. It was a secret to all creatures, including humans. Save for me.”
“Makes sense,” I said with a nod. “Chyndron must have taken you.”
“He didn’t,” Irena corrected. “Zulu did.”
“Zulu,” I breathed the name. “She brought you to Andsdyer, didn’t she?”
“Yes, like Chyndron brought you,” Irena confirmed. “She believed that one soul other than a dragon should know where Rictorus was should anything happen. It was a beautiful place, carved out on the inside of the mountain. A whole society of dragons. Not all of them lived there, of course. Many clans preferred forests, or deserts, or the ocean.”
My thoughts immediately went to Monte’s oceanside home and Myels love for being in the water. There was no way either one of them would want to be cooped up in a mountain. Lucien, on the other hand, would be in heaven.
