Dragon's Fire

by Gwynn White

  “Glad you’re here.” Grigor slapped Meka’s boot and turned to Natalia. “Let me help you up.” He took Natalia’s small hand, encased in fur riding gloves, and helped her onto her horse. With far more finesse than Meka had, Grigor hopped up onto his own mount. By staying close to the palace, Grigor had benefited from the riding lessons Meka had scorned in his anxiety to be free. Grigor addressed the teens. “All ready?”

  “Almost. I’m just sorting out the banners.” Konstantin struggled with two red, rolled-up pieces of fabric. He passed one to Leo.

  Natalia reached over to touch Meka’s arm and whispered, “We hunt under the protection of the Dragon, Your Highness. Konstantin always makes sure of that.”

  Meka shook his head in disbelief as a gold-and-black fire-spitting dragon glared out at him from the red flag. Konstantin shoved the pole into a holder on his saddle. The icy wind caught the fabric, unfurling it. The red, gold, and black stood stark against the white world.

  “Doesn’t that scare off every animal for miles around?”

  “Often, Your Highness. But we’re a conquering army about to cut a devastating swath through the Serreti Forest.” Natalia’s brown eyes glittered at him from under her bangs. “Brace yourself.”

  He had no idea what to say to her strange comments. Was she in favor of this devastating army or not? He couldn’t tell. So he said, “How about you call me Meka.”

  “I’d like that. Grigor has told me so much about you, and I was really hoping to get to know you.”

  Meka’s stomach twisted in a weird way that made him want to pull Natalia off her horse and kiss her senseless. Apart from the fact that he had never kissed anyone before, that was a very bad idea. Not even the lesson on the bees, the memory of which had prevented more than one argument between him and his brother, would stop Grigor from thumping him if he moved in on Natalia.

  Not that he ever would.

  Meka swung his horse around to make space for Grigor next to Natalia.

  Grigor gave him a strained smile, then commanded, “Let’s go hunt.”

  Flags trailing behind them, Konstantin and Leo were the first to leave the stable yard. Meka fell back, allowing Grigor and the rest of the group to outflank him.

  Outflank.

  It seemed a strange choice of word, but Natalia was right; they were exactly like a tight-knit army he had infiltrated.

  He made a quick decision.

  Today he would just observe. If he didn’t like what he saw, he would head off on his own again. He looked at his crossbow, strapped to his saddle, an item he always carried with him into the forest. It had come in handy to kill another wolf intent on hunting him. He wouldn’t be using it today.

  Once across the drawbridge, they were joined by a group of huntsmen. According to Grigor, the huntsmen handled the gutting, skinning, and trophies from the hunt. It always astonished Grigor that none of the teens got their hands dirty. Grigor had also told him that all the boys had served in the military, their endless war games in the forest cut short by the command to befriend the two of them. He and Grigor had been excluded from those games.

  Yet another mystery.

  Arkady had spent twelve years drilling past military conquests into their heads. Surely, if Grigor was crown prince, he should have learned some practical soldiering skills?

  Again, there were no answers.

  The head huntsman bowed to Grigor and then to Meka. He turned back to address Grigor. “The stags are favoring the area around Drown’s Cleft, Your Highness. Perhaps we can lead you there?”

  “Thank you, Igor. We will follow you.”

  A taciturn man easily in his sixties, Igor Baden rolled his hat in his hands. “If I may be so bold as to suggest, Your Highness, that our young high-born refrain from shooting until we reach the Cleft? We would not wish to startle the stag.”

  Grigor looked pained.

  Despite all their so-called military training, Meka had heard more than one tale about the boys loosing quarrels at everything that moved in the forest. It infuriated Grigor, but, for reasons Meka had yet to understand, his brother didn’t seem to have a solution to the problem.

  Grigor called out. “I take it everyone wants to hunt stag today, so let’s all contain ourselves until we get there.”

  Grigor’s instruction seemed to make no impact on the flushed, excited faces circling them. Meka wondered if they would comply. He never had when Grigor laid down the law, but maybe this would be different—these youths were supposedly listening to a command from their future emperor.

  They had not gone far when they flushed a herd of about six pretty does, their brown coats vivid against the snowy landscape.

  Ten crossbows shot up, spewing quarrels at the herd.

  The animals scattered. Some were killed instantly. Others collapsed, bleating their pain. A lucky one darted off into the forest.

  The blood rushed from Meka’s extremities. He clutched his saddle for support. Natalia had been right about bracing himself.

  She looked like she needed help, too. Her eyes were bright with tears, and her bottom lip, clenched between her teeth, trembled. He had his answer. She had about as much time for this youth and their Dragon as he did.

  Red from rage, Grigor shouted, “I said no shooting.”

  His voice now carried the authority it had lacked in his previous command. He jumped down from his horse and loped to the closest, writhing deer. He raised his hunting knife to slit its throat, when Igor stomped over and bowed.

  “Your Highness, please, leave this to my men. They will clean it up. Let us continue with the official hunt.”

  Grigor hesitated, looking stunned at the suggestion.

  It was all the encouragement the boys needed.

  “Yes, Grigor, let’s go. The servants will sort this out,” Leo shouted. He and Konstantin had already kicked their horses into motion.

  “Over my dead body,” Meka muttered. He jumped off his horse and grabbed his hunting knife. “Grigs, not in all our years of fishing did we ever leave the lake with half-dead fish lying everywhere. I don’t think either of us are about to start today.” He slit the throat of the closest doe. His skin itched from the anger he felt boring into his back from the youth.

  Grigor and Igor worked with him, and they dispatched the other wounded deer.

  Meka cleaned his knife in the snow before sheathing it. He knew his next move would alienate him forever from these people, but he didn’t care.

  “I think I’ll take the challenge of ice-fishing. Hunting doesn’t appeal much.” Meka scowled at each boy in turn. “Seems I don’t have the killer instinct for it.” He squeezed his brother’s shoulder before walking to his horse. As he scrambled into the saddle, he smiled his kindest smile at Natalia, hoping she’d figure that he hadn’t included her in that condemnation.

  She jumped down from her horse to stand next to Grigor, both of them looking forlorn, but Meka rode off into the forest.

  Chapter 43

  Lukan tossed his informa onto Felix’s desk. The cameras hidden in the knobs on the two flagpoles mounted on Konstantin and Leo’s saddles had shown him everything he wanted—and didn’t want—to know.

  “Irredeemable,” he said to Felix. “Just like I told you.”

  Felix looked as if he didn’t agree. “Because Meka lived the hunter’s code and refused to leave injured animals in the forest?”

  “No. Because he refused to assimilate with loyal high-born youth who worship the Dragon and support me.”

  Felix puckered his lips. “The boy is still young. And freedom is heady.”

  Lukan glared at Felix, convinced the old man was going soft. “Freedom is the one thing we do not tolerate in Chenaya. You know that better than anyone. Mind you kill him when his state-sponsored holiday to Zakar and Treven is over.”

  Lukan rasped his finger against the stubble on his jaw; his valet hadn’t gotten the shave as close as usual. He would reprimand the man later. He grimaced, knowing he was deflecting. Af
ter months of watching Grigor, it was time he aired his thoughts.

  “Grigor is a pretty worthless crown prince. Do you think the Sixteen will accept someone that weak as my heir? Until the final Burning, I need them on my side.”

  Felix looked unconcerned. “You were not a typical crown prince, either, sire, and look how you have governed Chenaya. No one would ever question that you had no military training.”

  Lukan’s head cocked as he considered the double meaning in Felix’s words. Guessing his uncle hadn’t been complimentary, as punishment, he hoicked his feet onto Felix’s desk.

  His uncle winced. Felix’s love for his antique walnut furniture was legendary.

  Lukan ignored Felix’s displeasure. He was emperor; if he wanted to put his feet on the desk, he would. “At that age, I was known for my intelligence. I had a superior education to match. Grigor can’t even claim that.”

  Felix fingered his handkerchief. “What does it matter, sire, when everything we do for Grigor is window dressing? In a few weeks, Axel will be dead.” He stood. “A glass of chenna?”

  Lukan nodded.

  Felix hobbled across the room and, first, flicked on his kettle—the old man had a love for hot chocolate—and then he poured Lukan a tumbler of chenna. He came back to the table. “Ah! It seems the coaster is stuck under your boot heel, sire.”

  He nudged Lukan’s leg.

  Lukan grabbed the glass. “You become more transparent by the day, Felix. I swear, you’re getting old.” As further punishment, he plunked the glass down next to his boot and the coaster Felix always tried to insist he use.

  “Can I suggest something to bolster Grigor’s credibility, sire? Perhaps we could use the occasion of the princes’ birthday to hand Grigor the Dragon? The Sixteen have been waiting for some time for him to be officially consecrated as Crown Prince of All Chenaya and the Conquered Territories.”

  Mott had grudgingly bestowed the Dragon brooch and sash on Lukan when he had turned sixteen, the age that Chenayan tradition dictated the eldest heir be invested to the official rank of crown prince. Lukan knew it riled Felix that he had snubbed that tradition. So much had changed almost overnight that it seemed petty to deny Felix and the Sixteen.

  “Plan it,” Lukan said.

  Felix smiled, and for a troubling moment, Lukan thought his uncle was gloating at that tiny victory.

  He pushed the thought away. Felix, aided by Vasily, had delivered on his every demand for the Oldfort campaign. If there was anyone in the empire he could trust, it was his uncle.

  If Grigor’s inauguration placated the Sixteen, shoring up their support for him, then it was worth going through with the charade.

  Chapter 44

  Grigor’s valet brushed a piece of fluff off his coat.

  He shrugged the brush away. “How many times must I tell you? Stop fussing.”

  The infernal man bowed, making Grigor writhe. Regardless of what Lukan said, Grigor wasn’t the legitimate crown prince. And no amount of posturing at his so-called inauguration today was going to change that.

  Familiar nausea locked Grigor’s throat. Since almost throwing up on the youth in that receiving line, nausea beset him every time he thought about his title. The same nausea stopped him commanding Konstantin and Leo when they flaunted his instructions. Who was he to command anyone to do anything?

  And that was the basic problem.

  How could he, in good conscience, claim the title of crown prince when a bee charmer called Nicholas was the real heir?

  And where was his cousin Nicholas?

  Tao hadn’t seemed to know, and that filled Grigor with fear for the unknown boy. Tao hadn’t said anything about the cause of his death, but Grigor suspected Lukan had killed his father. Possibly Lynx, too. For some inexplicable reason, Nicholas had survived, but that didn’t mean things were well with him. Grigor and Meka had at least been imprisoned at the palace. Knowing Lukan, he doubted Nicholas had been afforded such luxury as an apartment and a cage to fish in.

  And now, suspecting all that, Grigor had to go to a High Council meeting to be introduced to the Sixteen. From there, he would be traipsed to the great hall, where the whole court would watch him accept a brooch and sash that wasn’t rightfully his. He couldn’t have thought of a worse way of celebrating his seventeenth birthday. The very thought of his part in this deception almost had him vomiting on his shiny, new black boots.

  The door to the dressing room swung open. Meka.

  As a concession to the day, his twin had forgone the comfortable-looking clothes Grigor envied so much and had dressed like a prince. In silk and velvet, his brother looked like an idiot.

  A circus monkey, Grigor corrected. Just like me.

  The first time he and Meka had visited the great hall, they had been shocked to see bears and monkeys dressed in human clothing, entertaining the high-born. And that was exactly how he felt every time he donned the garb typical of the people he now mixed with. But it was the price to be part of Natalia’s world, so he paid it. Grudgingly.

  “Time’s marching, Grigor.” Meka made a point of looking at his new watch, a birthday gift from Kestrel and Lukan.

  Grigor suspected Lukan had given it to Meka in an attempt to get his brother home before the evening meal. Grigor doubted the ploy would work.

  “We’ll be late if you don’t stop primping,” Meka said.

  “Primping?” Grigor growled. “You know I hate this as much as you do.”

  Meka shrugged.

  Typical. Grigor’s irritation flared; he could have done with some support today. Sick to his stomach, Grigor started to turn away, but Meka grabbed his arm.

  “You look like you’re about to vomit.” Meka spun to the valet. “Get out. Now.”

  As soon as the man vanished through the door, Grigor sank down onto a stool.

  “I—I can’t do this, Meks.” Grigor tugged at his shirt collar. It felt way too tight under his cravat. “I’m not that person.”

  Meka knelt in front of him. “You also can’t go into those meetings looking like you are going to puke on everyone.”

  Grigor dry heaved.

  Meka grabbed a silver shaving bowl off the dresser. He tossed the scummy water out the window and passed it over.

  Grigor snatched it out of Meka’s hands. “I’m a fake. An . . . an actor . . . in a role without any lines.”

  Natalia loved theatrics and had taken him off to the palace theater to a see a few plays.

  “I can’t do it. It goes against everything I am,” Grigor said.

  “You aren’t a fake. Not to me. And it’s not your fault Lukan has cast you in that role. He’s playing both of us.”

  Grigor frowned. “What you mean?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten everything you ever knew about fishing,” Meka grumbled.

  Grigor managed a smile. “It’ll take more than this lifetime for that to happen. But how’s he playing you? You aren’t being touted as the heir.”

  Another shrug from Meka. “I dunno. I can’t give you specifics, but I know this isn’t normal. It’s all a game, Grigor, and we haven’t been given the rules.”

  Meka echoed his own thoughts.

  “None of that helps me today,” Grigor replied.

  “What does it matter what the High Council thinks? They’re probably all in on this big secret. Just go in there and own the meeting.”

  Own the meeting. Meka made it sound so easy.

  “You should be doing this.”

  “Me? No thanks.” Meka grinned. “I’d swear at Lukan before I knelt at his feet.”

  “Right. I have to kneel at the inauguration.” Grigor dry heaved again, grateful he hadn’t been able to stomach even a morsel of breakfast.

  Meka grabbed his shoulders. “Grigor, listen to me. The people who matter know who you are. They will never stop caring for you just because Lukan is a moron.”

  “You aren’t the only person who matters to me, Meka, and—”

  Meka smiled grim
ly. “Natalia. Have you told her the truth?”

  Grigor’s eyes widened with horror. “Of course not!” He gave a hollow laugh. “I can just see how that conversation would go. Hello, Natalia, by the way, I’m not really the crown prince. We’ve all been lying to everyone. I’m actually . . .” He paused, not knowing who or what he really was.

  “She likes you. She’ll understand.” Meka also hesitated. “Have you kissed her?”

  Grigor blushed. And that was worse than being green and sickly. “I keep meaning to. You know, like, I’m working up to it.”

  He dropped the bowl onto the floor and buried his face in his hands, feeling foolish. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, but she was a lady. And he? He was nothing more than a savage dressed in fancy clothing. She was smart—and not just with a head filled with arcane facts about Chenayan history. She knew things about the world and shared ideas with him that hadn’t once stirred the murk of ignorance in his own mind. Natalia could do so much better that being stuck with a dolt like him.

  “Natalia will support you. Tell her. And then kiss her.”

  Grigor detected a smile in Meka’s voice. It sounded good-natured, like his brother wished him well. Still, Grigor sighed. Natalia wasn’t his biggest problem today.

  Grigor stood. “Just keep close, Meka. Real close. I’m really going to need you.”

  Meka offered him his palm for a slap. “You, me, and those bees.”

  Grigor smiled as he smacked Meka’s hand. His father’s lesson on the bees had been the best thing ever to happen to his and Meka’s relationship. Even though they were no longer joined at the hip—that’s what all those years in the cage had felt like—they were closer now than they had ever been. Before the bees, all he had wanted was to be rid of Meka; now life would be intolerable without his twin.

  He threw his arm over Meka’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”