by Lea Doué
She pursed her lips. What exactly did she want to say? She hardly knew him. He’d been in his dragon form during their first introduction, and he seemed to listen to their conversations more than participate in them.
“To thank you,” she blurted.
He stared at her with eyes as dark as the rest of him. She stared back. She couldn’t help it. He had the kind of eyes made for staring into. Any number of her sisters would have said so.
“You’ve been amazing through all of this,” she said. “I can’t imagine what I would do in your place.”
He frowned. “You’re as trapped as I am. More so, perhaps, with that sorcerer’s eye on you.”
“I can deal with him.” She picked a blade of grass and twisted it between her fingers. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little relieved I won’t have to fly again.”
He grunted and splashed water onto his arms and chest, falling silent again but watching her from the corner of his eyes.
To fill the silence, Mel rambled on about her sisters. “Junia’s training to be a healer. She only meant to be helpful at first, like Mother always encourages us, but now she’s an official apprentice. Maybe a little non-traditional for a princess, but not quite as unconventional as me.”
He snorted, but she ignored him.
“And then there’s Neylan, who likes to wear dragons in her hair. I mean, I like the little butterwings and honeysucklers as much as anyone, and the glowing-tongued sparklers I’ve seen as we’ve traveled north are fun, but I’ll stick with watching them.” She continued for several minutes, ending with a story about Azure always letting her win at swords. “She’s far better than I am, even at fourteen and always in a dress, but you’d better not tell anyone I said that.”
He waded back to shore and sat on the rock. Dusting off his boots, he said, “You talk a lot.”
She grinned. How many times had she been told that? “Yes, I do. I’m trying to distract you and make you feel at ease so I can convince you to let me put this cream on your back.” She held up the ceramic pot. “Is it working?”
A small twitch at the corner of his mouth indicated that she’d at least amused him a little. She took it as a good sign and wiggled the pot in front of her face. “Just between you and me.”
“If I let you apply the cream, will you go away?”
“You have my word.” She jumped up and moved around behind him. When she saw his back, she bit her lip to keep from making any noise that might make him feel self-conscious.
Just as the scales had left crescents on his skin, so the wings had left their mark. Two puckered scars ran in an angry purple-black line from each shoulder blade down to his waistband. Like mountains on a map. She scooped a generous amount of cream and slathered it on before he changed him mind.
“I’ll never complain about my freckles again,” she mumbled.
His shoulders tensed.
“Drat my mouth. I’m sorry! I should’ve have said that. My doing-before-thinking gets me in trouble with Orin more times than I want to admit, but he keeps hanging around. You’d think I would have learned by now.”
He brushed off her apology. “Do any of your sisters look anything like you? Everyone’s heard of the twelve beautiful princesses of Ituria.”
She laughed. “I don’t look like my sisters. Not even my twin, Mara. She has freckles like mine, although not as many, but her hair is darker. Hazel is the only blonde, and Coral has gorgeous flame-red curls. All the other girls have lovely dark brown hair. Well, except Junia. Hers is sort of nut brown.”
“Junia is the healer?”
“Yes.” He’d been listening.
“And Neylan is the dragon girl.”
Not the best word choice, given their circumstances.
“I mean—”
“She wears them more often than Mother would like, yes. You should meet them all someday. When we’re out of this… kingdom, you should come for a visit.”
She liked him already, especially his tendency to quietly do what needed to be done without seeking praise or acknowledgment. She could learn a thing or two from him. At least a few of her sisters were bound to like him as well.
Finished with the cream, she walked around and sat on a fallen tree facing him. He flexed his shoulders and glanced at her like he might want to express his thanks, but he remained silent. After putting on his boots and shirt, he turned to face the stream but hung his head and studied his fingers. His shoulders drooped as if he still carried everyone on his back. His dragon form was obviously not his only burden. Had he spoken to Baz? Probably not. He couldn’t even admit how much pain his back caused him.
She crouched in front of him, lowering her head so she could see into his eyes. She wanted to take his hand, but her gut said he wouldn’t respond well to that—not from her. “I talk a lot, but I can listen, too.”
He glanced at her and muttered, “Why would anyone want to listen to me? I’m the one who placed the prince in Idris’s path.”
“What?” Oh. He blamed himself. She waited for him to continue.
He sighed a dragon-sized gust of air and sat up straight. “Baz had a habit of sending lists of rare plants with me when I traveled to find healing herbs. Of all the ones I brought back, the red orchids caught his attention the most—along with the girl who sold them to me. I told him stories to take his mind off his increasing duties at court, and I spun them rather romantically, I’m afraid.” He cleared his throat. “I had to tell him everything I knew about her, until he finally insisted on traveling over the mountains with me to meet her himself.”
“And that’s when Idris got involved, correct? He thought he’d found a vulnerable girl with a connection to the heir of Mazereon. But it didn’t work out as he’d planned.”
He nodded and ran a hand over his smooth head. “I never should have gone back to that village, much less taken the prince with me. He’s been like a brother to me ever since I arrived to work at the palace. He would have listened if I’d told him to stay home.” His jaw clenched and his hands tightened into fists.
He had more story to tell, no doubt, but for once she wouldn’t press him. “None of this is your fault. I’m sure neither Baz nor Vanda would say they were sorry to have met, despite all the trouble. And I got myself mixed up in this situation by claiming the title of brave heroine a little too quickly.” Poor Orin, though. She’d never asked him to follow her, but she couldn’t say she was sorry he had.
Keir frowned and huffed. “I suppose—”
Shouts from the direction of the camp stole the rest of his words. A dragon roared.
Vanda screamed.
Chapter Fifteen
Mel and Keir raced to the campsite as Vanda’s scream echoed through the trees. Keir fell behind, his bulky frame ill-suited for weaving through branches and saplings.
Just outside the campsite, Mel stopped and crouched behind a bush. She had promised Orin she’d work on making fewer hasty decisions, and hanging back to study the situation seemed like a good way to start.
Swords clanged as Orin fought off a man in brown, while Baz faced a man in green who had an unconscious Vanda draped over his shoulder. Although dressed like foresters, the men had blue-and-black armbands sewn onto their sleeves that gave them away. Mazereon royal colors. The king had hired them to attack his own son’s party. True honked and hissed, flapping her wings in a vain attempt to chase off the intruders, while the three messenger dragons wheeled about her head in a confused flurry.
Keir barreled in to help Baz, which only distracted the prince. The man in green kicked Baz’s feet out from under him and then fled with Vanda, whistling shrilly as he ran. Before anyone could give chase, a hulking grey rock dragon rushed in, and the man threw Vanda across the saddle. With one foot in the stirrup, he rode off faster than anything Mel had ever seen. Another whistle, and a second rock dragon appeared through the trees and followed him into the forest. He was leaving his comrade behind, because he clearly had the prize they were after.
“No!” Baz yelled and sprinted after the dragon in a vain attempt to catch up, but he stopped quickly, obviously realizing the futility of a rescue on foot. He turned back towards the camp, his face clouded with anger.
Orin still fought the man in brown, but he was outmatched. Keir ducked into his tent, presumably to get a sword. Not wanting to risk hitting Orin with a dagger, Mel glanced at the pot of cream still in her hand, took a moment to gauge the distance, and then threw it at the attacker’s head.
The pot hit him square on the temple, shattering to pieces and knocking him to the ground. Orin knelt on his chest and disarmed him.
Baz ran up and punched the man in the face, yelling, “Where have you taken her?”
Mel sighed. Now they would have to wait until he woke to get any information out of him, but she could guess where the other man was taking Vanda. To the king who wanted her dead.
Keir emerged from his tent, assessed the situation, and buckled on his sword belt while glancing around. His gaze finally landed on Mel.
She stood and approached him. “I think rope might be more useful at this point.”
Keir fetched a rope from the supply basket. Baz took care of the knots while Orin pinned the unconscious man into the dirt with more pressure than was necessary.
She flung her cloak into the supply basket. They had one hope of catching up to that rock dragon before anything bad happened.
Orin grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”
She let her anger drip into her voice. “Tharius is going to help us get Vanda back.”
Orin’s eyes pinched with worry.
“I’ll be care—”
He interrupted her with a kiss and then hugged her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head and pressing her cheek into his shoulder. “You guessed wrong about what I was going to say earlier. I wanted to apologize for walking off and leaving you alone in Tharius’s camp.”
Really? “Oh. Well… apology accepted. I’d planned to walk in on my own in the first place, so no harm done.”
He pulled back just enough to look down into her eyes. “Good throw, by the way.”
She chuckled. “His head was too big to miss.” Growing serious, she added, “There’s a lake a few leagues from the edge of the Burnt River. We’ll meet you on the near side.”
She kissed him again, and then glanced at the others. Keir was dragging the unconscious man away from the pottery shards. Baz kicked the man’s foot hard and then stomped in a circle, muttering vehemently about knocking some sense into his father once and for all.
True faced them and seemed to be scolding someone judging by the animated head bobbing and squonking. Fleet and Jade bounced at her side, and Hunter clung to her back, both paws buried in her neck feathers and hissing in imitation.
She turned back to Orin. “Take care of them, will you?”
Baz hollered after her, and Orin began explaining as she ran off.
Her mind raced faster than her feet. The attackers hadn’t gone for the kill, thankfully, or they would have made quick work of Vanda already. How had anyone found them so far from where they were supposed to be? Tharius had said the king’s looking glass had been used up. Someone at Cliffside must have betrayed them. Or else King Lotario had sent out kidnappers to search for Vanda at the same time he sent the letter to Baz. Clearly he was ruthless enough to want Vanda in his presence before doing away with her.
Mel’s breathing masked most other noises enough that she didn’t hear Tharius approach on his dragon. He stopped. Even without wings, the beast loomed larger than a draft horse, both in height and width. Its legs joined its body at an angle, more like a lizard than a dragon, which allowed it to scrabble over rough terrain easily.
Tharius stopped beside her. “Which way did they go?”
She paused. How did he know what had happened? Even when trapped in his underground kingdom back in Ituria, he’d often had information that should have been unavailable to him. Did he have a looking glass, too? She shook her head. Those were all questions for another time.
“I know someone took your friend,” he said. “If you could narrow down the direction for me, I’ll get her back before they reach the king.”
“Northwest. I’m coming with you.” He didn’t argue but leaned forward and kicked a foot out of the stirrup so she could climb up. She settled behind him, the saddle’s high cantle pressing into her ribs, a bundle of supplies tied securely behind. She tucked her braid into her belt and then put her hands on her thighs, not wanting to touch him any more than necessary. “They’ve got about a five minute head start.”
He growled and kicked the dragon into motion. She lurched backward, the saddle digging painfully into her skin, and then leaned forward and tightened her arms around Tharius. She cringed inwardly, but she had no other choice if she wanted to stay astride.
The dragon scrabbled lizard-like over the ground with a side-to-side gait, rather than up-and-down like a horse. The wind stung her eyes and branches whizzed by their heads, but the dragon seemed to have a knack for avoiding any that might hurt them or knock them off. Shame they only lived in the caldera kingdom.
“I was sleeping, or they wouldn’t have gotten near you,” Tharius yelled. He almost sounded apologetic. “I didn’t realize anyone was close enough to overtake us.”
They had to be covering ground faster than the man in green, who would be dealing with an unconscious Vanda. Mel couldn’t be burdening their own dragon that much, although Tharius had already admitted to pushing it harder than he should.
Finally, he sat up straighter, and she leaned around to look past his shoulder. A long tail attached to a grey hide flashed in and out among the trees.
“Don’t you dare use sorcery,” she said. “You’ll drive both dragons crazy, and someone could get hurt.”
He nudged her back. “Hold on.”
Their dragon veered to the left and sped up. Was Tharius trying to herd the other dragon or get in front of it? And where was the riderless one?
As they pulled closer, Mel studied the beast. Its hide would be tough, and a hit from a dagger would only anger it. She should probably aim to disable the rider and hope to knock him off.
“No spells!” she reminded Tharius.
“How do you propose we stop such a monster?”
She drew a dagger.
“You’ll never hit it going this fast!”
“I will if you shut up and lean to the side!” He did. She braced herself, one arm around his waist, and threw the dagger. The blade embedded high in the man’s back between the spine and left shoulder, a little more center than she’d aimed, and he lurched forward, shrieking in pain and outrage. The dragon faltered and slowed, and he slid to the side and fell off.
Vanda remained in the saddle, and Tharius bypassed the man in green without a glance. They could check on him later.
“How is she staying on?” Mel said.
The other dragon slowed to a walk. When they pulled up beside it, Vanda craned her neck up and blinked at them, wide awake and clinging to the bottom edge of the saddle with one hand, while the other awkwardly clutched the pommel near her back. Tharius grabbed the dragon’s loose reins and stopped them both. Vanda slid to the ground, but her knees buckled under her. She stumbled to her feet, and walked a few steps before tripping on her cloak and falling flat on her bottom.
Mel joined her and put a hand to her forehead. “Are you hurt? How do you feel?”
Vanda placed her hand over Mel’s. “He held something over my nose that made me black out. Is everyone else all right?”
“They’re fine, and they’re going to meet us at the lake in the morning.”
“Don’t we have time to rejoin them now?” She shifted as if to stand.
Mel patted her knee to keep her seated. “We don’t have time to waste now that we know King Lotario has sent people to kidnap you. As much as I hate to admit it, Tharius can keep you safer than anyone. I want you to ride with him, all right?”
Vanda frowned but nodded.
“Rest for a moment while I talk to him.”
Tharius had tied both dragons to a tree. Their dragon thumped onto the ground with a groan.
“Do you have any water? Vanda looks like she could use some before we get going again.”
He glanced at her and turned to take something from his supply pack.
“I’ll get it myself, if you don’t mind.” Take nothing from the hand of a sorcerer.
He frowned. “It’s on the far side.”
Vanda had scooted up against a tree and took the water gratefully. Once finished, she leaned back and closed her eyes.
Mel returned the water skin to Tharius.
He watched Vanda as he spoke. “The king will know you’re coming now.”
“I think he already knew,” Mel said. “Or someone made a good guess. We still have the advantage of a flying dragon.”
“Do you?”
Her shoulders slumped and she sighed. “Would you just say what you mean for a change?”
His lips pursed in annoyance, as if she should have been able to tell exactly what he meant. He sat down against a boulder about a dozen yards away from the dragons, knees bent. She joined him—not too close—and positioned herself where she could watch Vanda.
He took off a glove and curled a hand around the three orbs hanging from his neck, resting his elbows on his knees. Sissi’s dragon ring bumped against his knuckles. Closing his eyes, he said, “I could help you in so many ways, if you would let me.”
Mel studied him as he sat unguarded before her. Of all the people she knew, including dragon soldiers, he would be the most capable of fending off any attack. And yet, he had vulnerabilities, too. He’d known loss. The mourning ring that held his mother’s hair glinted on his finger. What would she think of her son now? His cheeks bordered on gaunt from overusing his abilities and not getting enough rest. All to get… something… from her. Whatever he wanted, he couldn’t get by using sorcery, or he’d have it already.
