by Simone Pond
“His name is Tynan,” said Aine.
“He’s stunning. And I can see he’s taken quite a charm to you. Although, that isn’t too hard to do.”
Aine beamed a smiled and with the grace of a professional rider, she mounted the stallion and waved Evelyn over.
Evelyn’s ascent onto the horse wasn’t as graceful. She hoped to find something more accommodating to wear when they reached the village. Her raggedy nightgown was not only a nuisance, it most certainly wasn’t dragon-slaying attire.
With Aine sitting in front of her, Evelyn took the reins and nudged Tynan forward out of the stall and through the stable. The morning had progressed and more servants moved about the castle grounds. Aine pointed toward the woods in the opposite direction of the property and they stealthily trotted away without anyone detecting them.
“Do you know your way to the village?” asked Evelyn.
“No, but Tynan does,” she said, then leaned forward and put her mouth close to the horse’s ear. “To the village!”
The stallion neighed and picked up his pace from a trot into a full-on gallop in a matter of seconds. Evelyn gripped the reins as they breezed through the forest in one of the smoothest rides she’d ever taken.
“He’s majestic!” she told Aine.
“I had one just like him in Corinth.”
Evelyn understood why the girl had bonded so deeply with the stallion: he represented everything she had lost.
“Well, now you’ll have one in northern Galicia,” Evelyn assured her.
The ride to the village took about forty minutes through the shortcut in the woods. Evelyn and Aine dismounted and tied Tynan up to the post outside one of the lodges that hadn’t been scorched to cinders by the dragon’s flames. They stood and sadly gazed at the dismal scene of smoldering cottages. Pieces of ash drifted in the air and black soot covered the streets and whatever structures still remained standing. Many of the villagers were out and about, carrying wagons of blackened wood away and dumping pails of water onto the smoky remains.
“Where will they sleep?” asked Aine.
“I’m sure the other villagers will open up their homes until they can rebuild.”
Aine wiped away a tear. “I hope so.”
“Come along now, let’s go into the lodge and see if we can call a meeting.” Evelyn nudged Aine forward.
Aine made sure Tynan had enough water before they entered the lodge. When they stepped inside, a group of men and a few women were gathered around a large table, arguing. As Evelyn inched closer, she heard the words dragon and kill the bastard, and more grumbling back and forth. In her slow approach, she took out the crystal stone and called on the spear of Gorias. The piece illuminated in her hand like a lightning rod, and she was sure this shocking surprise would immediately grab their attention. But when the path cleared and she stepped up to the table, Evelyn was the one who was surprised.
9
Ciara turned the corner into the hallway leading to the prince’s chambers and sensed something was horribly wrong. Watchmen and knights buzzed about with serious focus, streaming up and down the hall. Men stood stationed outside the heavy golden doors of Prince Kieran’s suite. Shouts came from behind the door, and she tried to make sense of the words but she couldn’t discern them over the ruckus going on around her.
“Can I help you, miss?” asked one of the watchmen.
“I came to speak with Prince Kieran. I have very important news.”
The beefy man shook his head. “I’m afraid he’s busy at the moment. Not taking any visitors.”
Ciara frowned and looked at the brown leather journal in her hand. She had to get behind those doors and show him the evidence against Evelyn. She’d have to use her skills to persuade the dimwit blocking her path.
“Is it about the dragon?” she asked, batting her eyelashes and doing her best to appear vulnerable and in distress.
“No,” he said abruptly.
“Is it about the event being cut short?”
The watchman cleared his throat and moved Ciara off to the side. “Miss, we’re in a time of crisis at the moment. You need to leave.”
The man didn’t know just how persistent and stubborn Ciara could be when she wanted something. “But, sir,” she pleaded, reaching for his muscular arm. “I’m so frightened. And so is Lady Evelyn.”
He briskly turned his attention to her. “What say you of Lady Evelyn?”
“That she’s frightened by the dragon attack …”
The man grabbed her arm and banged on the golden door. The ploy had worked! They were going into the prince’s chambers.
Prince Kieran stood by the balcony windows, staring out across the fields. His brown hair was a sloppy mess and his shirt untucked and wrinkled. Ciara was shocked to see him so … dismayed … so vulnerable. A sour taste filled her mouth as she thought about the time she entered the cottage to find her father kneeling before her mother, begging her not to send him away. It was such a despicable display. She believed a man should never lose his composure—regardless of the circumstances. So what in all of Galicia had tied the prince into such a knot as to act so carelessly?
“My lord,” said the watchman, bowing.
“Yes, what is it?” Prince Kieran barked.
“The miss says she’s talked to Lady Evelyn.”
Prince Kieran turned from the windows and rushed over to Ciara, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You know of her whereabouts?”
Ciara’s stomach dropped to her knees. Know of her whereabouts? What was that supposed to mean? She had come to rat out the traitorous farmhand and win the prince’s adoration. She had walked into something far more complicated.
“My lord.” She curtsied and stayed low, trying to figure a way out of this kerfuffle.
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Tell me, girl! Where is Lady Evelyn?!”
Ciara flinched then looked up, bewildered. “Has she gone missing?”
The prince turned red and his eyes bulged. This time he rattled her. “You idiot! Aren’t you her chambermaid? She is your responsibility!” Spittle sprayed from his lips and his hands moved from her shoulders to grip Ciara’s neck.
She wriggled around, trying to pry herself free. The prince’s fingers violently dug into her neck, making her gasp for breath. The journal slipped from her hand to the floor, then she grasped at the prince’s arms and just before blackness shuttered over her vision, the watchman pulled him away.
“My lord …” he said in a low tone. “Perhaps some fresh air on the balcony?”
Ciara dropped to her knees, gasping and choking. Her throat burned and throbbed. Blood rushed back into her head like a river. She wanted to cry from the severe humiliation of being choked by the prince, but she wouldn’t allow for it. She snatched the journal and steadied herself, slowly rising to her feet. This was not the time to mention the book of legends. The prince wasn’t in his right mind. For some mysterious reason, the man was obsessed with Evelyn. She would have to find the rationale for his unexplainable weakness. And when she figured it out, she would use it against him and make him pay severely for what he had done.
The watchman approached Ciara, bowing his oversized head and extending his giant hand. “Allow me to assist you, miss.”
She took his hand, and he escorted her across the room in silence. When they reached the doors, she said into his ear, “What happened here today will not be forgotten. Thank you for saving my life.”
Once she had exited the prince’s chambers, she stalked down the hallway with a maelstrom of rage circling her entire being. If she could’ve conjured a burst of flames like the dragon had done the previous night, she would’ve struck down the entire castle.
Inside the room Ciara shared with Kateline and Sinead, she stared at the journal in her hands. The brown leather was damp from her enraged perspiration. So much for good fortune … It seemed the goat girl had thwarted her once again. She flung the book across the room. It smashed into one of the wall sconces,
shattering the outer casing. She collapsed onto the tiny bed and sobbed into her pillow, but not before picking up the leather-bound journal and hiding it under her mattress.
A few moments later, Kateline entered the room and upon seeing Ciara’s hysterics, she darted over to the bed.
“What happened? Are you all right?” She pulled and tugged at Ciara, trying to turn her around.
Ciara cried and cried, unable to string together a coherent sentence. Kateline pulled her into an embrace, stroking Ciara’s back. When Ciara’s breathing was under control, she shared what had happened in Prince Kieran’s chambers, leaving out any reference to the journal or the bloodline of Gorias. That information she kept to herself.
“Why is he so enamored by someone so utterly unworthy?” she cried into Kateline’s bosom. Again, the familiar feelings of wanting more from Kateline—something deeper and unspoken—tingled through her middle.
“You’ll be okay,” Kateline murmured, stroking Ciara’s raven hair. “We’ll get you some tea and fix you up.”
“I don’t want tea! I want him to despise Evelyn!” shouted Ciara.
“Oh, little fox. Don’t let such a nasty prince break you down. You’re better than this. You’re better than him. Than any of them.”
Ciara lifted her head and gazed up to Kateline. Once again, she felt a bristle of confusion about the emotions flooding through her. She wanted so much more than she could even verbalize. But to explore the feelings jostling around inside would be too much of a distraction.
Kateline continued. “This Evelyn is only a minor problem. One that we can easily eradicate.”
And like that, they were back on task. Ciara quickly wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “You really think so?”
“Yes. And I might have a plan …”
Ciara blinked, skepticism now overriding her previous swell of emotions. “A plan?”
Kateline smiled and twirled a loose piece of Ciara’s hair between her fingers. “One that will help you gain the position you so greatly desire. To be the prince’s most desired lady-in-waiting and to become his wife … But more importantly, the real position you desire with all your heart and soul …”
Ciara stared at Kateline, waiting for her to finish. What did this infuriating stranger know of her truest desire? She pushed away from Kateline.
“And what could you possibly mean by that?” Ciara raised her brows, goading Kateline.
“To become princess and eventually queen of Galicia.” A coy grin spread across Kateline’s plump lips. “It’s true, is it not?”
Ciara stood up and smoothed out her frock. “Perhaps you’ve overstepped your boundaries.”
Kateline remained seated, her dark eyes piercing into Ciara. “I speak the truth and you know it. And you also know—and perhaps have always known—that the prince is unstable and mercurial. Unfit to run Verubri Castle, let alone northern and southern Galicia.” Kateline slowly rose from the small bed, smirking with her dark eyes gleaming. “He will need a strong woman to keep him under control … to keep the kingdom from crumbling from underneath his throne. And you, my little fox, are the perfect candidate.”
Ciara couldn’t stop herself from blushing. She wasn’t accustomed to being so easily decoded. But Kateline was perceptive. No … this beguiling woman was masterful.
“First,” said Ciara, “I must know precisely why he’s so enchanted by the goat girl. Once I understand this, I’ll be able to work on annihilating his affections, then toward winning him over.”
Kateline shook her head. “No, no, my little fox, you will not sway the prince’s attention by better understanding the irrationality of the heart. You must pierce directly into what matters most to him.”
A moment of silence hung in the tiny room. The prince seemed preoccupied with only matters of the heart, Ciara thought. But there must be a reason behind his desire for Evelyn. He was royalty—powerful royalty—and this meant his most important concern would be gaining more power. Perhaps he thought Evelyn could bring him that? Was it her bloodline that he might’ve known about? Ciara had strong proclivities for Kateline, but she knew better than to trust her with the secret she knew about Evelyn.
“What are you thinking?” Kateline’s honey-coated voice wrapped around Ciara.
“Power is what Prince Kieran values most,” she said, with hope lilting the edges of her words.
Kateline nodded in agreement. “Then it is power that we shall offer.”
“But how in all of Galicia will we do that?” asked Ciara.
“As I mentioned a moment ago, little fox.” Kateline moved in closer and gently stroked Ciara’s cheek. “I have a plan.”
10
Evelyn lowered the spear of Gorias to her side and its bright glow dimmed. The group of villagers gathered around her, whispering and asking questions … but Evelyn could only stare at Doran sitting at the head of the table, grinning. He gave Evelyn a wink and a nod, which caused her to crack a smile of her own.
“So you made it over Bispos Peak,” she said.
Doran stood up, towering over the others. His broad shoulders shoved through the crowd as he made his way over to Evelyn. She glanced at his hands—either consciously or sub—and smiled to see the ruggedness they presented. Doran was a real man, and Prince Kieran was a worm in comparison. He stood before Evelyn with his brawny chest only inches away. She could feel the heat radiating between their bodies.
“I suppose you heard about the dragon, my lady?”
She nodded and motioned over to Aine, who was standing by the bar biting into some corn on the cob. “Aine and I came to help. The prince is absolutely useless.”
Evelyn’s comment got a roar of laughter from the group. She glanced around and smiled at the motley crew, knowing that convincing them to join her in fighting the dragon wasn’t going to be difficult. She was chomping at the bit, raring to go straight into the Vindius Mountains and find the dragon, and so were they.
Doran placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “We’ve been discussing a strategy. But we’ve also been up all night putting out fires and rescuing families. We’re not in the best shape to go after the dragon. We must get some food and a bit of rest. Our plan is to leave at sunset.”
Evelyn felt her ribs tighten around her heart in a suffocating manner. Sunset was several hours away. “But we must go now. We cannot spare another minute. What if the beast returns to finish off the rest of the village?”
One of the villagers approached; an elderly man with feeble bones but a powerful presence. “I know the spear which you hold,” he said with a gritty voice. “And I know who it belonged to before you. And who it belonged to even before that.”
Evelyn looked at the man, waiting for him to hurry up and get on with his point. She had a dragon to slay.
He continued speaking in a low voice, forcing Evelyn to bend down closer to his mouth. “You come from the line of Gorias. Fierce dragon slayers. And for centuries they’ve protected the people from the dragons of Galicia. During these battles, your relatives never made hasty or hurried attacks. And this is why they were successful. You must wait for the right time.”
She tried not to be disrespectful or rude, but this old man didn’t understand the extent of their imminent danger. And maybe if her father had acted sooner, he’d still be alive today … She needed to slay that dragon before it caused any more damage.
Doran must’ve sensed she was about to lay into the old man because he pulled her aside and whispered, “You look as though you could use a bit of rest yourself, my lady. Don’t you want to be in your best fighting condition for your first encounter with a Galician dragon?”
Aine had made her way over and was still gnawing on the cob of corn. “I’d like Tynan to rest a bit, too. Poor thing is exhausted. We pushed him through those woods at breakneck speed. My gut is telling me we should rest first.”
Evelyn glanced back and forth between Doran and Aine, then to the group of villagers—who looked more wo
rn down than she did in her raggedy nightgown.
She nodded in agreement. “While everyone is resting, Doran can go over the strategy with me. All of us will meet in front of the lodge fifteen minutes before sunset. Agreed?”
Everyone headed to the bar to grab food that had been set out for the taking. Aine followed after them.
“Where are you going?” Evelyn called out.
“I’m still hungry. Wasn’t much food in those stables. And I need to feed Tynan.” She grinned and raised her brows. “Besides, I believe you and Doran have some catching up to do.”
Doran let out a light chuckle, but Evelyn felt her cheeks burning and turned away to avoid Doran’s eyes.
“The girl is too wise for her age,” he said, laughing.
“She’s something, all right …”
“Come, let’s get you to my room. I have plenty of food. And probably something far more appropriate to wear than that get-up.” Doran gestured to her filthy and torn nightgown.
“I don’t have an appetite,” she muttered.
“Well, my lady, you may watch me eat.”
The two entered Doran’s room, and he quickly sat at a small round table and began pulling items out of a basket. Evelyn’s mouth watered as he set out apples, a loaf of bread, and a large hunk of cheese—she never thought she’d miss cheese as much as she did in that moment. Then he poured two cups of fresh water and handed one to Evelyn.
“Sit, my lady.”
“But …”
“I insist.”
Evelyn sat at the table, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. She leaned the spear of Gorias against the wall next to her chair. Doran set a plate of food in front of her, then began eating from his own plate, moaning in delight.
She could no longer resist temptation and grabbed a hunk of bread and spread some of the soft white cheese onto it. Goat’s cheese, she thought, biting down. Not nearly as delicious as her own, but it would suffice. She wanted to tell Doran about her farm and how one day she’d give him the best goat cheese he’d ever tasted. But she stayed quiet and focused on getting food into her starving body.
