by L. P. Dover
Kye took the old woman's hand.
“Your son is fine. Brennus is a hard worker and contributes to the rebel camp.”
Brennus? The same man who'd told us Nikalia had disappeared in the woods? Brennus the rebel?
Jule patted the top of Kye's clasped hand where it rested on hers.
“Good to hear, it is.”
She paused, and I shut my eyes again before her gaze could find my face. “The girl is important then?” she asked.
Kye was quiet. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me now.
“She could mean a lot to Medeisia,” he answered.
The old woman snorted. “Only to Medeisia?”
Kye stood then, and I could hear his booted feet as he paced across the floor.
“You overstep your bounds, Jule.”
“Do I?” Jule asked. “Ye respect her, do ye not?”
I glanced through my lashes again. Kye had one hand braced against the hearth, one boot lifted on the stone base, and he was staring into the glowing embers.
“I barely know her, Jule. She's intelligent, but she's young and innocent in many ways.”
Jule harrumphed. “I didn't ask if ye loved her, boy.”
Kye smirked at the fire. “True, old woman. You didn't. I do like her.”
Jule started rocking, her chair creaking as I stared at Kye, his admission ringing through my ears. Did I like him? We'd spent little time together, and what time we had spent had been intense moments colored by emotion, hatred even. At least on my part. But did I truly hate him? Or did I hate what he represented in my dreams? Aigneis. Ash. Death.
Kye stared at the flames for a long time, and I stared at his profile, at the way his lips tightened, his eyes narrowed. There was conflict in his gaze. Was it the war that bothered him or me?
Kye suddenly shifted, his gaze swinging my way, but I didn't move. I kept my eyes open, watching. When his gaze met mine, he paused, but he didn't say anything. A lot could be said with a stare.
I saw things in that look. I saw the forest, I saw Aigneis, and I saw a soldier with an overwhelming decision to make. It was the same decision I'd had to make in the forest with the trees to save Nikalia and two people I'd never met. Maybe a month ago, I could not have forgiven him, maybe there was a part of me that would always see devastation when I saw Kye, but there was a larger part of me that saw liberation.
“I need to go out,” Kye said abruptly, his gaze moving from mine. “I'll be back shortly.”
Jule kept rocking, and I closed my eyes again.
“Be safe and quick, boy,” Jule murmured as Kye's booted feet moved to the stairs. “If her power is as strong as ye say, there will be sorcerers about.”
I wanted to get up, to follow Kye down the stairs and out into the night, but I'd seen where he wanted to go in his eyes. I'd seen that look before when he'd watched Feras fly across the moon.
I rolled over, my back to the fire, and let sleep take me away again. Sometime in the night, I felt warmth against my back and an arm across my waist. But when I woke, I was alone, left with only the lingering scent of pine.
Chapter 28
I sat up, my body sore, my head pounding. The run through the forest, the rescue, and our own escape from soldiers the night before had taken its toll.
“Dress quickly,” I heard Kye say, and I turned to find him once again in his red surcoat, the green cloak fastened securely at his neck.
He gestured at my dry but wrinkled clothes from the night before.
“We'll be riding Feras to Aireesi,” he said.
That woke me up. I stood, my eyes wide.
“We'll be riding the dragon?” I breathed. Excitement coursed through my veins even as fear made me shiver.
Kye grinned. “It's not as exciting as it sounds. It's actually fairly uncomfortable. Go. Dress.”
He disappeared down the stairs. I didn't see Jule, but I could hear her moving around below. Wonderful scents wafted upward through the slotted, wooden floor. I changed quickly, running my fingers through my short curls and splashing water onto my face before finally rushing downstairs. It was still dark outside.
Kye stood at the entrance to the cellar, Jule next to him. She was placing a wrapped parcel in Kye's pack, and I knew by the smell it was food. He smiled when he saw me, holding out my bow and sheath as I approached. I took them and slung them both onto my back.
“We'll need to hurry. Dawn is only a couple of hours away,” Kye said.
I nodded, blinking the morning grit from my eyes as Jule leaned in close to Kye, one hand patting him affectionately on the face.
“Stay safe, boy. Both of ye, ye hear?”
Watching her made my stomach turn, memories of Aigneis' hand against my hair assaulting me. I looked away.
“Thank you, Jule,” Kye murmured, and I saw him pat her hand where it rested against his face before he stepped away. His palm went to the small of my back.
It was chilly, the air damp when we climbed out of the cellar into the street above. No sound came from the houses and shops surrounding us. Even the barking dog from the night before was silent. The ground was soggy and muddy, grass almost nonexistent where people trod day in and day out through the village. I could see a fire from the forge in the blacksmith's shop, but no man worked diligently. By the smoke lifting from a nearby chimney, however, it was safe to say the blacksmith wasn't far.
“This way,” Kye whispered, his hand slipping down to take mine in the dark.
I let him pull me forward through the maze of dark empty roads to the edge of the forest. There among the trees, his red eyes glowing, was Feras. The dragon rex had looked large inside his cave, but in the forest, he appeared massive, his head reaching as high as the tree top he stood next to now.
“Ready, child?” Feras asked, his rumbling voice low and full of amusement.
I couldn't see much of him in the dark, but by the tone of his voice, it wasn't hard to deduce he had no trouble seeing my wide, nervous eyes.
Kye guided me forward. “I'm going to help you up, and then climb up behind you.”
His hands were suddenly on my waist, lifting me, and I grabbed for Feras' scales, my fingers looking for any hold as my legs went over the dragon's back.
A rumble went through Feras' chest, and I could feel it vibrating up through my legs. Kye swung up behind me, his arm going around my waist as his other hand felt for mine in the dark, guiding my palm to a ridge on Feras' back.
“He's never taken any rider aside from me,” Kye said against my ear. “If he seems grumpy, ignore it.”
The feel of Kye's hand against mine was different today, terrifying and real.
“This is going to be fast, isn't it?” I asked him.
I didn't mean the ride on Feras, and I think Kye knew that.
“It's not too late to turn back,” he answered.
I thought of the rebels at the camp. Most of them I didn't know but understood in many ways. I thought of Aigneis tied to the pyre, and I thought of the screaming trees.
“Yes, it is,” I said.
Kye's arm tightened around my waist.
“Ga'tho,” he said.
Feras moved out of the tree cover before unfurling his wings. Even in the dark, I knew they were impressive.
“Ga'tho,” I repeated, testing the word on my tongue.
“It means 'go forth.' It's the only dragon word I can speak,” Kye murmured, his breath fanning my neck as Feras suddenly lifted.
I gripped the ridge on Feras' back, my stomach plummeting as the world fell away beneath us. Kye leaned forward against me, and his hand flattened against mine.
“Relax, you will not fall.”
I glanced down, my eyes on the village as it grew smaller. The only light was the blacksmith's forge. I blinked. Just inside the shop's doorway, there stood a shadow, a face looking upward. I blinked again, and it was gone.
“We'll land on the far side of the palace at the edge of the forest, out of view of the guards,” Kye r
evealed. “It is one of the few weak spots in Raemon's fortress, but it won't be long before he'll realize we're there.”
The wind buffeted my face as Feras flew, the cold icy fingers playing along my cheeks before reaching down into my clothes. Below, the temperature had been warmer, but here among the clouds, it was cold enough I could see my breath on the wind. Winter would come soon. Two, maybe three, moon phases from now, we'd get our first snows.
“You'll turn me in, then?” I asked.
In the dark, as far up as we were in the sky, I felt alone, cloaked in a blackness broken up only by the stars and a moon covered mostly in clouds.
“Yes. You'll be on your own then. I'll do what I can if the king allows me to live, but what he does to you will depend on you.”
His words made us both silent. If he lets me live . . . what he does to you will depend on you.
“For Aigneis,” I whispered. “And for the trees.”
Kye's arm was a vice-like grip around my waist, and I thought I heard him say, “Nothing can make up for what I've had to do.”
I turned back to the sky, closing my eyes against the cold, the massive void feeling that made my stomach roll.
“And my mother used to do this? Ride dragons?” I asked.
Kye laughed. “From what I hear, Feras' mate was a much smoother flyer.”
A rumble went through my legs again, and I knew Feras was feigning displeasure. Kye released my hand long enough to pat Feras.
“Humans should always feel honored when we allow them to fly with us,” Kye recited.
I grinned. “How many times did you have to repeat that as a boy?”
This time the rumble through my legs was mightier. Kye threw back his head and laughed. It was a pleasant sound.
And then nothing. Only silence. Silence and wind. I leaned back against Kye as he leaned forward, my free hand going to his arm on my waist. And then it was silence, the wind, and this man. This man I barely knew. This man who'd stared at me through prison bars. This man who'd knelt with me in front of dragons, who'd cut my hair, and ran with me now to spy on our king. I think I liked this man, the man who offered me comfort simply with his arm, this man who at any time I may never see again, who could be killed as fast as Aigneis had.
In war, I was beginning to learn that like could happen as fast as death. Was it worth it? Was it worth it to care about people if you were going to lose them?
I tightened my grip on Kye's arm, a single tear coursing down my cheek only to be whipped away by the wind. I could feel my chest burning.
It was worth it. It had to be. Getting to know people, loving the rebels I fought with, and loving the people I lost was worth it. It simply had to be. Otherwise, what reason did I have to fight?
Chapter 29
Dawn was creeping across the land, the dull pinkish light moving slowly to cover the fields and forests below us. It stole over scattered homes and thick trees before edging on the more densely populated villages surrounding the capital. And then there were the ruins, the magnificent golden arches as they rose into the air, the rising sun glinting off of the tarnished metal. Jagged pieces reached into the sky like misshapen fingers, beckoning or warning us away, I knew not which. Feras flew beneath them, lowering until he was in the cover of the forest at the city's edge. We'd arrived in Aireesi.
Shops and small homes cluttered crude cobblestone streets just beyond the trees. There seemed no particular order in the city. Clothes lines hung out of second level windows. Packers moved quietly in the early morning, their horses loaded down with wood for forges, pottery kilns, and ovens. Small pots sat along the streets waiting for men to urinate in them, for the dyemakers to collect the waste to make their dyes. There were nice odors mingled with foul ones, and I scrunched my nose as Feras finally landed.
We slid off of the dragon just inside the treeline outside the palace, and I gawked at the fortress beyond, at the box-like stone turrets and wooden draw bridge. It was two times the size of my father's manor, but it wasn't as massive as I'd pictured it in my head. The stories about Aireesi were largely exaggerated.
“I put much faith in you, phoenix,” the rex rumbled. “We will be waiting and watching.”
His head lowered, allowing Kye to rub his snout before he stepped back, his reptilian frame moving into the trees. And then he was gone.
Kye unclasped his cloak, letting the green garment fall to the ground before he straightened his abused surcoat.
“It's now, Stone, or never,” he said.
He took my hands in his, removing my bow and sheath of arrows before using a length of rope he pulled from his pack to tie my hands firmly behind my back. His eyes met mine as he tested the knots.
“I hope I'll have more time to get to know the girl behind the prophecy,” he said.
And with that, he leaned over, his lips brushing my forehead. I closed my eyes. Things about Kye that made me wary of him also fascinated me. His scars, his career in the army, his link to Feras.
Kye hid my bow among the trees before spinning me around so that my back faced him, his hands closing over my arms. I took a deep breath, and he pushed me. I marched forward, my face even. A guard on top of the palace walls looked down, his attention caught by Kye's uniform as we neared the gates. I struggled to feign rebellion and Kye shoved me again. This time I went down on one knee in the mud.
“Forgive me,” Kye breathed just as a guard from above called down, “Ho! Account!”
Kye's knee went into my back, keeping me low to the ground. “Kyenar Grenville Berhest.”
I would have stood if Kye's knee hadn't secured me to the soil. Berhest? Kyenar Berhest?
“Kye?” the guard called down. “There's a price on your head, prince.”
Kye unsheathed his sword, plunging it into the ground next to me. It was so close, I could see where it'd been sharpened repeatedly.
“Tell my father I bring him a gift. A prisoner he will be more than interested to meet. Then let him decide what he wants to do about the price on my head.”
My heart broke, my face falling, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
No!
Kye, a prince? The son of Raemon Berhest himself? I wanted to cry, but bit my lip until I tasted blood instead, struggling on the ground where I lay beneath his knee. He exerted more pressure as the palace drawbridge began to lower.
The Prince of Medeisia? But there was no record of a son. None. Everything I'd ever read in the Archives had said Raemon was childless. He'd been married once, yes, but his wife had died mysteriously. An accident, the records said, but it had never gone into detail.
Kye, a prince . . . and yet the rebels trusted him, Feras allowed him as a rider, and his own father, the king, had placed a price on his head. A double-crossing prince.
“What is this?” a helmeted guard asked as he walked onto the bridge flanked by two other guards. All of them bore plated metal helmets with the wolf and crossed swords emblem etched in the center above a longer metal piece that sat over the guards' noses.
“Allow me passage,” Kye demanded. “I will see the king.”
Above us in the sky, a falcon called.
“Stay strong,” Ari yelled.
I struggled again, and Kye used enough force to send my elbows into the mud. I let some of it splash up onto my face.
“It's just a boy,” one of the guards said, his voice incredulous. “What would the king want with a boy?”
Kye reached down, twisting my wrist so that it faced the soldiers. “He bears the mark of the scribe,” Kye said. “Let me pass. Anything else worth knowing will only be revealed to my father.”
Kye's insistence seemed to make the guards nervous. They finally moved aside, allowing Kye to drag me onto the wooden drawbridge.
“Walk, boy!” Kye ordered, and I stumbled forward as he shoved me yet again. I kept my balance, my head down, a few short curls brushing my forehead as I marched.
All I could see were my muddy legs. My throat burned with unshed tear
s, with anger, and with doubt. Kye, a prince? And yet the dragon king would not trust him if he was not on the side of the marked folk. Would he?
The wood below my feet came to an abrupt end, and I was standing once more on mud. I glanced up only once, and then stared at the ground again. I was in a court yard, a large one with horses whinnying along the palace walls. A group of soldiers stood in formation, their stares on us as we were escorted forward. A flock of geese ran wildly past, a harried, red-faced girl in pursuit.
“Be calm,” I whispered as we passed.
The geese slowed. Kye's hand jabbed me in the back, the gesture a warning.
“What have we here?” a voice asked.
All I saw were shoes and stone floors, mud streaking the entrance as we moved into the palace. Sunlight was replaced by shadows. Torches hung along the hallways and the occasional ray of light slanted across the stone from thin, defensive windows. The atmosphere felt violent in the palace, dark and tense.
The shoes kept marching forward. They were big shoes with thick soles and caked in dirt. They stopped in front of a large oak door with tarnished brass hinges that creaked as it opened.
“We need to see the king.”
It was Kye who spoke.
There were more shoes. All well made.
A new pair stepped in front of us. “Kye,” a voice said, the sound low and menacing, and I had to bite back an exclamation.
Captain Neill! The captain had beaten us into Aireesi! How was that possible? Hatred burned through my gut. I wanted a sword, a bow, anything as long as I could pierce the man through the heart.
But then there was another pair of shoes. These were boots, black, polished, and expensive.
“And so my son has returned,” the voice behind the shoes said. It was a smooth voice with little inflection. No feeling.
The king.
Fear coursed through me.
“Give me one reason not to kill you now,” King Raemon demanded. “You have been nothing except trouble since your bastard birth. I made sure you were well taken care of, and you repay me how? By killing four of my soldiers! Four of them!”
