Sea Dragon Heir

by Constantine, Storm

  VARENCIENNE RODE STRAIGHT HOME, without visiting the Leckerys as she’d originally intended. By the time she reached Caradore, she’d not been greatly missed because it had become her habit to ride before breakfast, sometimes with Pharinet, but often alone. She went directly to her sister-in-law’s chambers, filled with the desire to reveal her decision. Pharinet listened to Varencienne’s impassioned outpourings with an expression of bemusement, but as her enthusiasm ran its course, Varencienne became increasingly aware that Pharinet’s expression was forced. She couldn’t be jealous about this, surely? She already knew Varencienne’s feelings for Valraven. Still, no spoken response was forthcoming. “Does this not seem the way forward?” Varencienne demanded. “Please, Pharinet, I feel very strongly about this. I need your support.” Pharinet expelled a sigh, then nodded. “Yes, you are right, of course.” She hesitated, picking through the remains of her breakfast. “At one time, I had hoped that I might have Val’s child, but that was not to be. I cannot argue that we need another Dragon Heir. It is why Val married you, after all—well, one of the reasons.” She looked up at Varencienne. “But it is really up to nature, isn’t it?” Varencienne shook her head. “I feel that now I have made this decision, it will happen. It was the message given to me on the Pike.” Pharinet smiled. “I can’t believe I’m hearing these words from you. You were so against the idea of children. What if you hate having one yourself? How will you cope?” Varencienne made a dismissive gesture. “We’ll find a nurse to look after him. That’s a Magravandian royal tradition I refuse to surrender. I’ll just have to endure the pregnancy and birth as best I can.” Pharinet’s smile widened into a laugh. “You are a singular creature, Varencienne.” “Some things just have to be done.”

  VALRAVEN’S RETURN HAPPENED to coincide with Varencienne’s birthday. When he arrived at the castle, he sent a servant to summon her to the stableyard. Here, she was surprised to discover Valraven had bought her a gift, a beautiful Mewtish mare, the color of old silver coins. Did this signify he was still friendly with Bayard? Varencienne doubted anyone else would remind him it was her birthday. When she questioned him about it, he responded, “I paused in Magrast on my way to Caradore, and the empress invited me to tea. She asked me to bring you a gift from her. The next day, a Mewtish horse dealer was in the yard, and I saw the mare. Thought you’d like her. Pharinet tells me in her letters you have become quite a horsewoman.” “The mare is very beautiful. Thank you.” Varencienne paused, then opted for bluntness. “It would please me if you’d visit me tonight. There is something important I wish to discuss with you.” Valraven examined her curiously for a few moments, then said shortly. “Very well.” It was only after Valraven had gone into the castle that Varencienne realized they had just had their first conversation. The empress had sent her daughter some delicate ancient jewelry that had once belonged to Tatrini’s grandmother. Varencienne was suspicious at once. Why was Tatrini thinking of her now? Perhaps there was a message in the gift. That night, as she waited for Valraven to come to her, Varencienne read the accompanying letter. The empress spoke warmly in it, expressing the hope that Varencienne was happy and well. “I often think of you,” she wrote, which Varencienne found hard to believe. She had consumed the best part of a decanter of dark red wine, and in a passion, scrawled a reply to her mother. First, she thanked Tatrini for the jewelry, then launched into a tirade. “You are a stranger to me. Why give me presents now? Did you send me here? Palindrake was Bayard’s lover, but you knew this, of course. He failed in whatever you wanted him to do, so you sent me instead. Isn’t that so? What plan lies behind your actions?” She knew it was dangerous to be so open in a letter, but had to purge herself of her feelings. Perhaps, tomorrow, she would burn the evidence. When Valraven came into her room, Varencienne was drunk and told him bluntly that it was time for them to have a child. He regarded her expressionlessly as she spoke, but this she expected anyway. “You seem to think I have some control over this,” he said. “If that was so, surely there would have been a child before now.” She shrugged. “Perhaps it is I who has control. In any case, I have made up my mind.” He smiled a little then. “You are becoming like your mother,” he said. “Caradore has made a woman of a little mouse.” She wanted to tell him what she knew about him, but decided against it. She sensed that any mention of Ellony or Bayard would send him hurrying from the room. Like the other women around him, she would continue to keep him in ignorance. That night, for the first time, she recognized the fragility in him that Pharinet felt so concerned about. He could kill and he could use his cold nature to bully, but if the light of knowledge burst over him, he might crumple. As usual, he instigated a cold and clinical coupling, but to Varencienne this did not matter. She would never look to him for warmth or affection. However, as she lay back while he knelt between her splayed thighs, she could not help thinking of Khaster. If he was making love to her now, she could open her eyes and see him looking down at her with kindness and adoration. She would reach up to him, drag him down to her embrace. She would curl her limbs about him. A spark of lust ignited within her, but before she could enjoy it, Valraven ejaculated and withdrew from her body. She almost laughed. But even so, at the moment when he’d released his seed, she’d been thinking of love, of closeness. This had to be seen as a good omen. The letter Varencienne had written to the empress was never sent, although she did compose a more measured reply the following day. She extolled the virtues of Caradore, and spoke warmly of her new female relatives. “They have taught me so much,” she wrote, and left the allusions at that. What she’d learned about her mother had changed the image Varencienne had of her in her mind. They had never been close, but now Varencienne could see Tatrini as an individual, someone strong, who tweaked strings of power from the shadows. She felt it was time the empress realized her daughter was not a nonentity, but then perhaps Tatrini had suspected it all along. If that was so, Varencienne admired the cool patience of a woman who could move a piece upon the board of life and then wait, without acting, to see what would happen.

  VARENCIENNE WAITED ANXIOUSLY FOR a month to see whether she was with child. No blood came the first month, and none the second. Varencienne did not confide in anyone but Pharinet. “Should I see a physician?” she asked. Pharinet shook her head. “I know who you should see.” That very day they rode out of Caradore to the forest along the cliff, and here Varencienne was introduced to Grandma Plutchen. She supposed this must be a tradition with Palindrake women. The old woman only laughed when Pharinet explained why they were there. “Have you no eyes, child?” she said, gesturing at Varencienne. “Look at her. I hardly need to examine the girl.” Varencienne was quite shocked a commoner could be so forthright with a noblewoman, but Pharinet clearly took no affront. “Please, Grandma, use your art with Ren. We want to be sure all is well. We want her baby to be healthy and strong.” Grandma Plutchen gave Pharinet a strange, lingering look, then nodded. “I’ll put your mind at rest, though I’ll tell you now, you’ve naught to fear. Also, don’t think in terms of one cradle. The lass has two hearts beating in her belly.” Pharinet laughed in delight, turning to Varencienne. “That’s wonderful! Did you hear that, Ren?” Varencienne could not be so pleased. She thought only of the heavier pregnancy and longer labor. Grandma Plutchen took her into the back bedroom. “You’re a strong little mare,” Grandma said, as her fingers delved expertly in Varencienne’s private places. “Yes, yes, all is good. It’s as it should be.” “Thank you,” said Varencienne stiffly, pulling down her skirts. The old woman washed her hands in a basin and then stood with folded arms, watching Varencienne put on her stockings and shoes. “That family carries pain like a posy,” she said, shaking her head. “Do none of you know the meaning of joy?” Varencienne just gave her a hard glance. Had she no respect? She refused to comment. Grandma Plutchen, shook her head once more, grinning, and went back to the kitchen. Varencienne followed. “Well?” asked Pharinet. “So it begins,” said Varencienne.

  A LETTER CAME
FROM Bayard in the cold, dark months of the year before spring comes. The ground was hard, the trees skeletal, and little could be done to warm the draughty corridors of Caradore. Varencienne’s stomach was round and taut now. Her breasts pained her, and she often felt ill. These symptoms she refused even to acknowledge. They would pass. She took her brother’s letter to a high room in a turret, where the windows were broken and snow blew in. She needed to be alone to see what he had written.

  8

  PRINCE

  My dearest sister Ren

  I trust you are in good health and find Caradore agreeable. I suppose it was inevitable you should discover my part in the Palindrake history, and I hope it did not make the situation difficult for you. I could not tell you before, although I thought about doing so. It was a great shock to me that you were given to Palindrake, but also no surprise at all. The decision was not solely our mother’s although I suspect she suggested it to our father initially. The official reason, which you know, still stands. But I think Mother wishes to maintain a presence in Caradore, for she always has an eye on the future. Do not think she will use you in the same way she made use of me. That avenue is forsaken. The book cannot return to Caradore. Do not think even to ask for it. I can understand why you are angry I did not tell you I knew Valraven Palindrake, but it would not have been easy for me to tell you. You would have asked too many questions. Now, there are fewer for me to answer. I loved Valraven from the moment I first saw him, which is a time I can recall in ultimate clarity. They brought him into the cathedral to initiate him into the Splendifers and I could tell at once that here was a singular man. His hair was the purple black of the king crow, and he had the bearing found only in those of royal blood. He was tormented even then, for he had just left his sister after discovering for the first time that she returned his love. Valraven is confused by feeling. It sends him reeling, which is both endearing and exasperating. I talk this way as if he is still the man he was, which of course he is not. I courted him, but he did not recognize this fact. Men of Caradore are uncomfortable with affection among brothers, and with many other kinds of affection too, I feel. They can be rigid in this way. We sent him into the fire pits, which I thought would change him and it did. Perhaps more drastically than I had accounted for. When he returned to Magrast after his wedding, it was clear to me he was disturbed and I realized the time for games was over. I went to his chambers, and offered him the hand of friendship. His friend, Leckery, was causing him grief over events that had transpired in Caradore, and he needed a confidant at that time. He told me his wife was gravely ill, though I have always thought he cared less about that than about his dilemma over Pharinet. I was astonished he could surrender his sister to such a man as Leckery and told him so. That was when he confessed his feelings for her. I could take away the pain of that, by accepting without question or censure the way he felt about her. In Magrast, of course, such things are commonplace. He was comforted by this and turned to me for reassurance like a young boy. He seemed to me a fascinating mass of contradictions. His calm nature spoke to me of inner strength, yet at times he was vulnerable and afraid. He learned to fight, and then I saw in him a mindless savagery that seemed at odds with his innate nobility. In love, he was passionate and demanding, while also possessing the capacity for an isolating coldness. We went to Cos, and in that hostile land, Valraven learned the finer points of warfare. He was destined to be a general, far from enemy lines, yet that did not satisfy him. Even before his full promotion, he would lead his men in battle, and soon earned the reputation for invincibility. He was also considered lucky. Whoever served beneath him felt his influence protected them. It was true he lost fewer men than other commanders, and even though his troops feared his often reckless campaigns, they respected and obeyed him utterly. They called him the Dragon, and some claimed they had seen fire burst from his eyes as he fought. The Cossics tried many times to assassinate him, but always failed. To me, at that time, he was like a god. Leckery detested me, and blamed me for the changes he saw in his erstwhile friend. But I was never responsible. What bloomed in Valraven Palindrake had lain hidden inside him since birth. When I was next in Magrast, our mother sent for me, and told me I should go with Valraven to Caradore on his next leave. She said to me that I was not making full use of my friendship with him. I was puzzled by her words, and then she explained to me about the sea dragons, and the history of the Palindrakes. I discovered Valraven was not called the Dragon for nothing. I did what I did merely to ensure survival in a competitive environment. I need all the support I can get, for on the day that our father passes succession to Gastern, all of our lives could change. Our eldest brother is, as you know, an inflexible man, with ideas of his own about how the empire should be run. We should all ensure we have a place to our liking in this new order when it arrives. Pharinet, Valraven and I attempted to rewaken the ancient dragons, but failed, in that we provoked a power we could neither control nor were prepared to face. We had the knowledge the empress had given us, we had each other, but the sea wife was weak, perhaps tainted. With hindsight, I can see that Pharinet was the true sea wife. We should not have tried to pass the power to the Leckery girl. You know, of course, what happened to her. I do not feel it was regrettable. The Leckerys are not fit consorts for people such as the Palindrakes, whereas we of the Malagash dynasty eminently are. My fears for you do not concern the family, for whom I have the greatest admiration, but Valraven Palindrake himself. I will explain. After the rite at the shore, I did what I could to re-establish unity between Valraven, Pharinet and I. We arranged to meet in my chambers, so that we could seal our friendship with love and pleasure. But we were not alone. The daughters of Foy possessed us, entered our flesh to experience its pleasures, which they lack. The Palindrakes and I should have come together in perfect balance; physically, mentally and spiritually. The Dragon Daughters perverted that. They hate living beings, but also envy us. Their cold forms crave our heat. Their passionless hearts hunger for the sensation of emotion. But they are like careless children with these things, which are toys to them. They do not realize how fragile human feeling is, and once they have broken it, they cast it aside. I cannot, and would not, describe that night in detail to anyone. Suffice to say, I faced the worst of myself and found it pleasing. Only with morning came horror, shame and regret. There is an aspect of Valraven which is troubled and frail, and could not withstand this experience. I did not realize at the time how grievously it would affect him. When we returned to Cos, he was twice the man he was, but the elements that were enhanced were those of savagery, coldness and madness. I saw him commit atrocities that appalled even me. He was full of rage, which I think was the rage of Misk, the Dragon Daughter who has secured for herself a seat in his soul. She has never left him, whereas Jia and Thrope possessed Pharinet and myself for but a single night. Valraven was not as broken as I’d thought. Misk had fashioned a new toy from him, one more to her liking. After that, Valraven turned from me completely, blaming me for the damage he’d suffered. I believe he has a subconscious inkling of what has happened to him, and denies Misk some of her pleasures deliberately. Ever since the night she first came to him, he never touched me again in love, or anyone else, to my knowledge. Misk’s vicarious indulgences center solely around war and death. As for Khaster Leckery, do not believe all that his family tells you. He is not the noble creature they no doubt fondly remember. He took satisfaction from the fact that Valraven Palindrake became estranged from me. He even had the audacity to taunt me, which unfortunately prompted me to reveal the fact that his wife was unfaithful to him with her brother. I also mentioned I had slept with her myself during the visit to Caradore. Leckery was a fop and a hypocrite. He scorned Magrast and all her people. He scorned our ways, and in particular my relationship with Valraven, which he called unnatural. Yet all the while, he kept a boy himself?Tayven Hirantel, a slut of the court, well-used by the majority of our brothers. I doubt Leckery?s grieving family is aware of this relationship. Phari
net deserved better than such a man. As I suspected, he could not deal with the information I gave to him. He was a coward, and I find it hard to believe he died in battle. More likely he adorned with his effects a ravaged corpse, who was beyond recognition. Then he would have run away. Officers such as he rarely venture into the front line, yet off he went, a man who was supposed to be a reluctant conscript. He will be dead by now. If he did abscond, he was lost in a savage land, and any foreigner would be killed there outright. If I talked of Valraven Palindrake disparagingly before you went to Caradore as his bride, it was the voice of my pain. Take care, Ren. Do not make the mistake I made of thinking we have mastery over the elements of Caradore. What came into me on that fateful day we tried to wake the dragons was feeling intense beyond endurance. That is the nature of water. And the cost of my actions was that I lost he who I loved above all. Bitterness turned that feeling to hate, but I am not deceived. The ghost of what could have been haunts my heart. Do not think you can reach him, because you can’t. Enjoy your life with Pharinet and her friends. She is a fine woman. If you are lucky, Palindrake’s presence will plague you only rarely. Do not love him, for his ice will extinguish your fire. That is my strongest advice.