by Nathan Roden
Sixteen
The next night, Jaclyn lay awake for an hour. The King and his court had returned to Morgenwraithe, and she was back in her familiar surroundings and her own bed. But she could not sleep.
Jaclyn slipped out of her bed and got dressed. She lit an oil lamp and turned it low as she made her way to the vacant tower.
Jaclyn climbed the steps to the room where she had slept after her brother’s wedding. She turned up the lamp and sat it in front of the window that faced the sea. She sat and waited.
I am being foolish, she thought. What do I hope to find? A bloodthirsty beast that may burn me alive at will?
She had heard the tales, of course. Everyone had. The dragon was the son of the murdered King—cursed by a sorceress on the orders of the boy’s own mother. Jaclyn could not begin to imagine the depth of such an evil.
Yet, the dragon had spoken to her, kindly.
Politely.
And gently.
The dragon grew to become more of an animal with each passing year, the stories told. It burns crops at harvest time because its anger knows no limits. Its hatred for every man, woman, and child, is the only emotion that fuels its desires.
The dragon had been hunted. It had been shot at. It had been struck by arrows from the bows of the most feared archers in the Kingdom—yet it lived to fly the night skies and terrorize villages far and wide.
Jaclyn had never heard it said that the dragon could speak.
What does that mean? she wondered.
If there have been no tales about the dragon who can speak, then perhaps some of the stories are untrue.
Or, she thought,
What if they are ALL untrue?
Movement caught Jaclyn’s eye.
She jumped up and ran to the window.
There he was. Gliding, west to east. And then, east to west. Jaclyn doused the lamp. She stood in front of the window. She was not certain, but she guessed that the dragon was able to see her silhouette.
The dragon crossed the sky again, and then Jaclyn lost sight of him. Moments later she heard a noise—above her head. She heard another noise. This time, outside the window.
Jaclyn took a step toward the window. She leaned outside. She froze.
The dragon perched on a bastion.
Jaclyn looked into the dragon’s eyes. They were only a few paces apart.
Jaclyn struggled to speak.
“I…I want to show you something.”
She could hear the dragon’s heavy breathing. She saw and smelled the smoke that spilled from around its enormous teeth.
Jaclyn reached into her gown and took out a piece of parchment. With trembling hands, she held the parchment in front of her as she leaned farther out of the window.
The dragon leaned forward. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the quivering page.
“Can…you…read?”
Jaclyn jumped when the dragon threw back his head. It loosed a laugh—along with a bolt of blue and orange flame.
Jaclyn could not move.
The dragon lowered its head.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” it said. “That happens, sometimes. I cannot always control it—especially when I am surprised.”
“You can talk,” Jaclyn whispered. “And you can read?”
“Please, tell no one,” the dragon whispered. “I have a reputation to think about.”
Jaclyn nodded. Her eyes were wide.
“That was a joke,” the dragon said. “Perhaps, not a good one. My opportunities to have a conversation are so few and far between, as you might imagine.”
“It’s all lies,” Jaclyn whispered. “The stories—they are all lies.”
“Stories?” the dragon said. “Stories about me? I am certain that there are more than a few.”
“There are hundreds,” Jaclyn said. “I have heard them my entire life.”
“Some of them are true, of course,” the dragon said. “Those that speak of my speed and agility—my ability to dodge arrows—”
“They say that you cause the people of entire villages to starve by destroying their fields,” Jaclyn said. “They say that you have been known to pluck babies from their mother’s breast.”
“Lies!” the dragon barked.
“They say that you lurk in the shadows and steal meat from hunters.”
“That one is true. It gives me no pleasure, but I must eat. Or I will die.”
“Shall I call you ‘Simon’?” Jaclyn asked.
“That is my name.”
“Why were you outside of this window—on the night of my brother’s wedding?” Jaclyn asked.
“I hoped to see my brother,” Simon said. “To catch even a glimpse…would mean something. I cannot risk going near the village or the castle.”
“How did you know that he would be here?” Jaclyn asked.
“I have friends,” Simon said.
Jaclyn looked sad.
“I have to go,” she said. “You do not need to lie to me. Please…be careful.”
She turned away.
“Wait!” Simon said.
Jaclyn faced him.
“I have…only one friend. He told me that Lucien would be here.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“That you are to marry the King.”
“Your brother has returned to Morgenwraithe. Yet, here you are.”
Simon stared out to sea and said nothing.
“What is your friend’s name?” Jaclyn asked.
“You will marry my brother, and you will be my Queen. My brother rules a Kingdom that offers a fortune to the man who slays me.”
Simon turned and stared into Jaclyn’s eyes.
“You will soon be Queen of the Realm that holds a bounty on my head. The time may come when I lie bleeding and pierced by a thousand arrows—but I will never surrender my friend.”
In the light of the moon, Simon saw a tear stream down Jaclyn’s cheek.
“Why do you cry?” Simon asked.
“We are told that your heart beats only for vengeance,” she said. “It is said that your curse was the judgment of the gods for the sins of your family. Yet, in truth, you are far nobler than anyone I have ever known.”
“What kind of Kingdom is this,” Simon said. “Where simple loyalty to one’s friend is uncommon?”
“A hard and cold place,” Jaclyn said. “My father says that Lord Sterling fills your brother’s head with wickedness.”
Jaclyn continued in a whisper.
“I am forbidden to speak of such things.”
“As well you should be,” Simon said. “Lord Sterling will not abide a voice of dissension—even from the Queen of the Realm.”
“How will I survive?” Jaclyn cried. “Inside the castle all day and every day—with that foul man?”
Jaclyn sighed.
“I so wish that this curse could be broken and you could take the throne that should have been yours.”
Simon rose up and spread his wings.
“Do you see? The curse holds power far beyond my body. You must guard your words, my future Queen. In the world that you enter, the very walls have eyes and ears. You must remember this, at all times.”
“You sound just like my father,” Jaclyn said.
“Both of us want you to live,” Simon said.
He raised his head. Flame burst from his nostrils.
“Can you…will you come back?” Jaclyn asked.
“You should not ask such a thing. I can bring you nothing but trouble.”
“I could be…I could be your friend, too.” Jaclyn said.
Simon laughed. Smoke rolled from his mouth.
“The King’s Guard will be at your beck and call, night and day. You will have servants and nursemaids. And thousands of adoring subjects.”
“Yes,” Jaclyn said. “And the same number of friends that I have now. Zero.”
“I beg to differ, My Lady,” Simon said.
“You have one.”
The dragon le
aped into the night and disappeared over the sea.
Seventeen
Jaclyn’s mother jostled her awake an hour after daybreak.
“Gracious, child!” Lady Lamont said. “Do you intend to sleep the entire day away? Come, now. Up! Up! There is much for you to learn before you take your place beside the King!”
“I have plenty of time to learn to be a Lady, Mother,” Jaclyn said. “I am not an imbecile.”
“Not an imbecile!” Lady Lamont said.
She grabbed Jaclyn’s hand.
“One broken—no, two broken nails—and mud beneath them all!” she cried.
“My daughter—destined to rule these lands—spends her days running after the sons of commoners!”
“We have fun, Mother.”
“Fun? Fun does not prepare a lady to rule the people! Fun does not prepare a Queen to represent her Kingdom with elegance and grace!”
“But fun will let you pull a fat frog from the mud down at the stream.”
“Well, there you have it, then!” Lady Lamont threw up her hands.
“After your wedding, you and King Lucien can lead us all down to the stream for our very first Royal ‘Frog-Pulling’!”
“Yes, Mother. That would be so much less dignified that everyone getting drunk and dancing until they fall down.”
“Perhaps, one day, a Queen with years of rule behind her might bring about a change in tradition,” Lady Lamont said. “But those days are far, far away. Get up! Your bath has been drawn and you have a new dress to try on.”
Jaclyn groaned and got out of bed. She bathed and a maid washed her hair. Another maid came in and helped Jaclyn into her new dress.
One of the maids cinched up her corset.
“Ow!” Jaclyn yelled.
“What does it matter how I look, if I cannot breathe?”
“There is no beauty without pain,” one of the maids said.
“It is the way of women.”
“I will be changing that, when I am Queen,” Jaclyn said.
“You may as well complain about men-folk liking to get drunk and root around like swine,” the other maid giggled.
Jaclyn was escorted to the parlor, where she met with two older ladies. Those ladies had also been squeezed into their tiny-waisted dresses, but they did not seem to mind at all.
“Jaclyn,” one of them said. “Today, we will be teaching you to walk.”
“To walk?” Jaclyn said. “You cannot be serious!”
“Your dress, your face, and your walk will be the first impression that you give as the Royal Representative of the Kingdom, my child,” the first lady said.
“You cannot overestimate the importance of your walk,” the second lady said. “Your face, is a given. You are an exquisite beauty, child—just like your mother!”
“Your wardrobe is also a given,” the first lady said. “The finest seamsters in the land will provide you with the finest dresses. This leaves your walk—which we will begin to perfect today.”
“Jaclyn,” the first lady continued. “Walk across the floor for us. Pretend that you are meeting the prince of a neighboring Kingdom.”
Jaclyn walked across the parlor floor. She stopped and turned around.
“I can hardly believe my eyes!” the first lady said.
“Unlike anything I have ever seen!” the second lady said.
“Jaclyn, have you ever toiled on a farm?” the first lady asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Jaclyn asked.
“Have you ever handled a plow—behind an ox or a mule?” he second lady asked. “Because that is precisely the way you walk!”
The day was long and Jaclyn hated every minute of it.
She yawned as she got ready for bed. She filled her oil lamp and left it beside her door; prepared to make her way to the tower again. She lay down and closed her eyes. She opened them moments later, horrified that she had fallen asleep so quickly.
Jaclyn peeked out of her door. Light shone beneath her parents’ door. She dared not lie down again. She sat on the floor beside her door and thought of questions to ask of her mysterious new friend.
Jaclyn woke with a start. The first rays of dawn struck her face. She was furious with herself.
That day was more of the same; the two ladies training her in the ways befitting the Queen of the Kingdom of Morgenwraithe. Walking, bowing, waving, and mastering the graceful form of the proper curtsy filled the day’s agenda.
Jaclyn’s taskmasters finally seemed to believe that she might be transformed into a proper lady after all.
Jaclyn prepared to sneak out of her room and visit the tower again that night. She peered out of her doorway until she saw the space beneath her parents’ door go dark. She waited, but she remained standing. She refused to let sleep overcome her again. She had no way of knowing if Simon was still nearby.
Jaclyn stayed in the shadows on her journey, avoiding the guard towers. She tripped once and fell, spilling some of her lamp’s oil. She waited in the dark. The noise had not alerted anyone of her presence.
Jaclyn lit the lamp and placed it in a tower window. She squinted at the night sky. There was very little moonlight.
There were three windows that faced out to the sea. Jaclyn walked between them, pausing to look out of each one. She grew tired. With each passing minute, she became more depressed. She sat down on the window seat.
“I missed you last night.”
Jaclyn shrieked and nearly fell to the floor. She cried out again when she twisted her ankle. She scraped her left elbow against the rough stone of the window ledge.
Jaclyn gathered herself and leaned out of the window. The dragon perched on the bastion—his usual place.
“How long have you been there?” Jaclyn asked. “I did not see or hear you!”
“If I moved about like a flying ox, I would have been dead before now. Perhaps that is one reason why so few dragons remain.”
“That is not the reason, Mr. Dragon,” Jaclyn said.
“My name is not Mr. Dragon. It’s Simon.”
“Tearing people in half with their talons, biting off their heads, burning houses and crops and livestock—this is why there are no more dragons.”
“I’m not like that,” Simon said.
“That is part of the curse, is it not?” Jaclyn said. “You are feared and hated and hunted down, regardless of what lives in your heart.”
“Yes,” Simon said. “You must admit, it is the perfect curse. Such great power and strength—yet bound to a life of loneliness—feared and hunted by everyone.
“Even one’s own brother.”
“We do not have to speak of such things here,” Jaclyn said. ”Here, in this place, you are safe. Here, we can be friends.”
“Friends,” Simon said softly. He looked out to the sea. He exhaled and dark smoke rolled from his mouth.
“Soon, you will become Queen, and move to Morgenwraithe. You will live in the place where my name will be vilified until the day that someone claims my life.”
“Perhaps I can reason with the King,” Jaclyn said. “If you would just remain hidden for a while, I could tell him that—”
A blast of flame shot from Simon’s nostrils. He whipped his head around to face Jaclyn.
“I do little but hide from huntsmen every day of my existence! I am bound by the endless sea on three sides of the Kingdom. The fourth side leads only to the poorest lands where thousands see me as the answer to their hunger. My sanctuaries are discovered as quickly as I find them.”
Jaclyn said nothing for a few moments.
“I have heard a tale—a tale that is difficult to believe.”
“What tale?” Simon asked.
“There are some who say that you change—you change back into a boy. For a short time.”
Simon said nothing.
“Is it true?” Jaclyn whispered.
“It would make no difference if it were true,” Simon said.
“I think that it would give you hope. Hope, that
one day, the curse could be broken.”
“And I think that such a thing would serve only to torture me—with what will never be.”
Jaclyn began to cry.
“Being your friend is the hardest thing I have ever done.”
Simon spread his wings.
“It is certainly not the wisest—”
The door burst open. The shouts of men filled the room. Torches and arrows flew.
Jaclyn’s father grabbed her arms. She screamed a warning to Simon, and then watched in horror as fiery arrows flew at him from the bows of the castle guards.
Most of the arrows bounced away from the dragon’s scales, but Jaclyn saw two flaming arrows pierce Simon’s right wing as he pushed into the sky. Another flaming arrow pierced his left wing.
Jaclyn struggled against her father’s grip. She got away and ran to the window. She watched as Simon flew out to sea. Tears streamed down Jaclyn’s cheeks as she saw the oil-soaked arrows spread flames across the span of the dragon’s wings. She watched him plummet down—down, until she could see no more.
The great dragon plunged headlong either into the sea—
Or onto the rocky earth.
Eighteen
Five Years Later
Jaclyn and her handmaid, Helena, entered the Grand Hall. King Lucien was attended by five seamsters: two men and three women. They hovered around the King like bees, fitting him for his new robes in anticipation of the King’s name day celebration. The ceremony and festival would celebrate his fifteenth year.
“Oh, look, Helena!” Jaclyn clapped her hands together.
“How magnificent you look, Your Grace!”
Jaclyn’s good mood faded instantly. She had not seen a bored Lord Sterling leaning against the wall behind the velvet drapes.
