Rolant gave Llyr a guilty look, before saying, “Should we cancel the ceremony this year? Or at least move it?”
“The ceremony is sacred. It will take place and it will happen on sacred ground. I will not cower before the Var threat.” King Tared lifted his jaw proudly.
“Even if the Var intentions are honorable, the fates have already decided that the lady is meant for your son,” the queen said to her husband. “There is no reason for the Var to be there. You make the right decision.”
“The Var and Draig should not mingle,” Rolant said. “It is all we can do to coexist on the same planet.”
“Llyr?” The queen straightened and gave him a worried look. “Where is your crystal?”
“Lost,” Llyr admitted. He’d given Gildas’ necklace back now that the man had recovered. It had been a stupid idea, one he never should have done. Now his own crystal was lost in the Var forest and he had no way of proving his love to Mede. “When we went after the scientists, I must have lost it. I looked for it but it’s gone.”
“But without it you cannot be married.” The queen looked at her husband. “Can he?”
“It’s no matter. It glowed. You both saw it. I will take the words of a Dead Dragon and my son at the ceremony. You will be married.” The king reached his hand to his wife and she took it without hesitancy. “We are blessed early this year, my lady.”
She nodded but still looked worried. “The gods smile on our family.”
Llyr understood his mother’s concern over his future. Tradition said Mede had to break his crystal at the ceremony to cement their bond. If that didn’t happen, would they be able to truly mate? He wanted to believe what he felt for her was enough, but how could he know? Then there was the fact she’d never seen the crystal glow. Would she believe him if he tried to explain again? Would her father tell her? Surely she would believe her father. A small part of him wished she’d just trust what she felt and agree to marry him—crystal magic be damned.
* * *
Var Territory, Shadowed Marshes
“What are we doing out here?” Attor frowned at Myrddin. “I know you didn’t summons me from my palace to wander the forest. I have no desire to commune with nature.”
Unless her name is Mede and she’s naked in my bed, he added silently. I would like to commune with that nature.
The breeze shifted and a horrible smell accosted him. He wrinkled his nose. “What is that rot? Did you bring me to show me dead animals?”
“Stop whining like a woman,” Myrddin scolded. “I warned you I’d beat you if you became weak like your father. We’re almost there.”
It was rotting corpses Myrddin brought him to look at, only they weren’t animals. Four dead humanoids lay on the ground, their bodies mangled with claw marks. Whoever had attacked them had made a big mess of things. Entrails were strewn over the forest floor. Body parts were flung here and there like morbid decoration.
Attor shrugged. “So you had some fun with the aliens. I don’t recognize them as palace guests if that’s your worry—though it is hard to tell exactly what they looked like before all that damage. The only woman missing is that Syog you chased into the woods. Her traveling party hasn’t seen her and they keep hassling me about her.”
“The Syog? I know nothing about that,” Myrddin said. “She probably ran off on one of the departing ships. The last I saw her she was on her hands and knees begging me.”
Attor really couldn’t care less about the dead people in his forest, or the Syog whore who’d let herself get captured by Myrddin. He waved his hand at the slaughtered aliens. “Have your guards burn them and be done with it. I’m not helping to clean this up.”
“I brought you here to show you why we need to go to war with the Draig,” Myrddin said. “These scientists were mine. I paid them to work on a top-secret project in my cave laboratory.”
“You have a cave laboratory?” Attor asked.
“Not any more. The Draig destroyed it. You yourself saw the dragon woman in Var territory, running around like she had a right to be here. She’s not the only one. The Draig have been crossing into our borders for some time.”
“Skin a cat,” Attor mumbled, remembering Mede’s game.
“What?”
“They call their game skinning a cat,” Attor said with much authority, as if he had knowledge way beyond Myrddin when it came to political matters. “They cross our borders to harass the marsh farmers for their fur.”
“You call this a game?” Myrddin gestured angrily at the bodies. “This is an insult to not only my house, but yours, prince.”
“What was your project?” Attor inquired. “Does my father know?”
“The king? That drunken lout is too busy pretending to be ruler while the rest of us protect this country. He is an old fool and I wouldn’t ask his permission to squat in a forest, let alone protect your birthright, son. Someone has to protect the Var and you.”
Attor stepped through the bodies to study them more closely. They had been torn with claws or talons, that much was evident. “What were they doing for you?”
“Making a weapon that could rid the planet of Draig once and for all. It would poison them and leave us unharmed. Only we would have the antidote. Those dragons who took their rightfully subservient place would receive the cure. Those who didn’t would die.” Myrddin looked very proud of his idea. “It was to be a gift at your coronation, to use as you saw fit. Only the Draigs trespassing ruined it. Look what they did. They killed my scientists before they had a chance to finish their work. They destroyed my lab, burying it under rubble. They’re nothing but a bunch of animals.”
“Careful,” Attor said. “I am to marry one.”
“I understand the necessity of your idea,” Myrddin assented, though he didn’t seem to enjoy the thought. “Why not take a half mate figurehead wife, especially now that my plan is ruined. If she becomes burdensome, there are ways to rid yourself of an unwanted woman when she no longer serves a purpose.”
Attor didn’t want to think about killing Mede. He’d imagined their relationship in his head and it was going to be perfect. “These could be claw or talon made. How do you know it was the Draig?”
“I found this.” Myrddin reached into his satchel and pulled out a dragon crystal. He tossed the necklace at Attor. “They never take those off unless it’s to break them during a ceremony. One must have been pulled off during the slaughter.”
Attor turned the stone between his fingers before tossing it up and catching it in a closed fist. “This rock will come in handy. Thank you.”
Myrddin gave a hard sigh. “I didn’t bring you here for a rock. I brought you to show you the need for war.”
“My father does not want war. My father barely wants to leave his palace. I have to wait my turn. What do you want me to do?” Attor growled. “Kill the king?”
“No, no, you mustn’t,” Myrddin said slowly, as if he himself didn’t believe his own halfhearted protest.
“I won’t kill my father,” Attor stated.
“Of course, prince. It would not do to start your reign under such a stain, even if the house nobles would support your ascension.”
“Just so we are clear.” Attor was bored with the conversation. “I’ll talk to my father about the Draig entering our territory. In the meantime have your men patrol the borderlands.”
He had no intention of speaking to his father about Myrddin’s concerns, or anything else for that matter. He had already asked the king for help securing his bride and did not want to risk him changing his mind. Avoidance seemed to be the best plan where King Auguste was concerned.
“It’s already done.” Myrddin’s smile was odd, but Attor wasn’t interested in reading into it.
“I’m going back to the palace.” Attor wrinkled his nose in disgust as he strode away from the scene. “Have your men burn this, and next time, skip the trip into the forest to see corpses. Just tell me what you need to tell me.”
Chapter Tw
elve
Draig Northern Mountains, Medellyn’s Family Home
“Medellyn, you have to get out of bed.” Grace laid her hand over her daughter’s head. “Come eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Mede said into her pillow, not looking at her mother. She didn’t want the gentlewoman to see her red eyes and know she’d been up crying again.
“What has happened to my headstrong daughter?” Grace asked, stroking her hair. “Why won’t you talk about how Cynan died? I don’t understand how you were unable to bring him home to his family. One can only conclude that the result was an image I don’t want in my daughter’s memory. Talking about it will help. Share your burden.”
Mede thought of the black trails coming from Cynan’s eyes. They invaded her nightmares, showing up on every face in her dreams. As badly as she wanted to be able to bring his body home to his brother, they couldn’t risk spreading the disease. All they could do was lock it away and pray to the gods that the secret died with the scientists. Dylan seemed fairly confident from reading the files that it was only contagious by direct contact. When the bodies decayed the disease should dry up. Since, out of all of the Dead Dragons, he had the most scientific knowledge, they had to trust in his assessment.
Mede could not put the image of Cynan’s last moments into her mother’s delicate mind. Actually, she couldn’t tell anyone. Llyr had decided it was best not to panic the population with the idea of disease. Such panic would lead to suspicions and suspicions would lead to planetary war. They had no evidence to accuse Lord Myrddin or the Var people. All they had was a bad feeling deep in their guts that the time of peace was again coming to an end. War equaled death, and none of them wanted that. Things had been going so well. Why would the Var king want to change that?
“Why won’t you answer me?” Grace whispered.
“It’s the burden of secrets, mother,” Mede answered. She finally looked up. “I can’t say by royal decree.”
Grace gave her a sympathetic smile and nodded in understanding. “Just make sure you talk to someone, Medellyn. Don’t trap the ugliness inside.”
“How was your trip to see the medic? I should never have told you to ride a ceffyl.” Mede had been feeling guilty about that for some time. “You never said.”
“I sent a runner. Since there is no time limit on when I have to see the medic, he’ll stop past whenever he’s in the area.” Grace chuckled. “You really didn’t think you could out manipulate your mother, did you?”
Mede shook her head in denial. “I thought you persuaded, not manipulated. I should have known you’d come up with an alternative solution.”
“Anything to avoid climbing on a ceffyl.” Grace tilted her head in thought. “What about Prince Llyr? I am sure he would listen to your worries. He seems very fond of you.”
“What makes you say that?” Mede guiltily thought about their time in the cave, making passionate love. Even now the thought of it made her want to find him and kiss him, to never stop kissing him. Then she remembered the reason she was home instead of hiding with her grief in the forest was because he’d ordered it. She did not appreciate being told what to do. “What have you heard?”
“Should I have heard something?” Her mother arched a brow.
“No,” Mede said weakly, unable to make eye contact. “Did you say food? I think I might be hungry.”
She wasn’t, but her mother had some kind of weird hostess sickness where she had to feed people.
To her surprise, Grace grabbed her hand, not instantly getting up to make a tray of food. “Oh, Mede, please tell me. I’m dying for you to tell me.”
“I can’t. Royal decree.”
“Not that. Prince Llyr. He’s the one, isn’t he? I saw the way he looked at you. He’s your mate. A mother knows these things. A mother knows when a beau is interested in courting her daughter.”
“I don’t understand you sometimes,” Mede said.
“When a dragon wants to swoop in and lay claim to his mate.” Grace’s tone dropped as if saying such things were crass and not to be overheard. “Do you need me to tell you about mating? Do you know how babies are created?”
“They’re gifts from the gods,” Mede answered wryly. “Magically put in our bellies like seeds planted at harvest.”
Grace made a weak noise. “Well, I know that’s what I told you when—”
“Mother, I’m teasing. Yes, I know.” Mede did not want to go into further detail.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Grace sighed with relief and then stiffened. “Oh, no, the ceffyls. My darling girl, no. That is not the way of things between husband and wife. Don’t feel bad. We had this common misconception when farm girls were around bred horses.”
Mede stared, willing the woman to stop talking. She could be a hundred years old and she was pretty sure she would never, ever, not even under threat of death, ever want to have a talk about sex with her mother.
“I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. I don’t make his crystal glow.” She tried to keep a straight face, but her heart broke at the words and she gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. A tear slipped over her cheek. “Please, don’t talk about it.”
“Then the crystal is wrong,” Grace stated matter-of-factly. “Your Victorian ancestors did not need a crystal to tell them these things. Maybe since you’re a dragon female you need both crystals to make them work. Since you broke yours, his doesn’t glow. I saw the way he looked at you. It’s the same way your father looks at me. It’s the same way all these Draig men look at their wives. That man would jump off a cliff to make you happy. He’d run through fire, cut off his own hand, take over the entire universe if you asked it of him. I know you think I’m a silly woman with silly ideas, but I know love when I see it. That man loves you. And by the pain you’re now feeling, I suspect you love him.”
“Do you really think it’s because we don’t have both crystals?” Mede wanted to hope, but she worried that Grace’s desire to see her daughter wed was tainting her judgment.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps you have to wait for the Breeding Ceremony for it to work. Or the gods are mad about you breaking your stone early and are toying with you.” Grace took her daughter’s hands and pulled them to rest above her heartbeat. “You don’t need magic to tell you what your heart knows. When you close your eyes, who do you feel? Who do you think of? Who do you want to be with? That is your answer. You don’t need me, or a crystal, or the gods to tell you who to love. You know who you love, Medellyn. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.”
“I don’t know what I feel,” she admitted. Another tear slid over her cheek. “I’m scared of being married. I never wanted marriage. I don’t want to belong to somebody. I want to be somebody. I have fought my entire life to be as good, if not better, than any male dragon on this planet. I’m stronger and faster, and I work harder than they do. How can I give that up to be a wife?”
Grace did not pretend to be insulted by the honesty. She sighed, caressing her daughter’s cheek and swiping the tear away with her thumb. “If you truly want to be as good as any of the male dragons on this planet, then you must accept love as they do. That is the one dragon trait you deny. They all know they are to marry and mate forever. Just as you are to someday marry. Marriage will not change who you are, Medellyn. It enhances you. And, if you choose Prince Llyr, you will not belong to a man. You will lead a nation. You are somebody, my fierce daughter. You will always be somebody. Marriage and motherhood will only add to the fullness of your life. No one can take away who you are unless you let them.”
“And what if it’s not meant to be? What if I go to the ceremony and his crystal glows for someone else? I can’t watch that.”
“If Llyr is not your prince, then another man will be at another time.” Grace pulled her into her arms and held her tightly. “Then you do what everyone does after life gives you a bad turn. You come home. No matter what happens, you can always come home.”
“Llyr is just…” Mede gritted her teeth, thinkin
g of their last encounter. “He’s just so frustrating. He always tries to tell me what to do, or protect me, or—”
Grace chuckled and released her.
Mede frowned. “Don’t laugh.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Grace said. “I laugh because I feel sorry for any man who tries to order you around. I imagine you try to protect him as much as he tries to protect you. A little friction in a relationship is part of the fun of it. Keeps things from getting boring.”
“You and father never have friction.”
Grace laughed harder, her entire body shaking as she swayed back. “Oh, not that you have seen. I would never argue with your father in front of you. That man can infuriate me like no other. We have mellowed with age and found a rhythm that works for us, but when we first married I wanted to drown him in a lake one moment, throw his muddy shoes at him the next, and then he’d do something incredibly endearing and I’d forget why I was irritated.”
“Father? Endearing?” Mede loved the man, but he didn’t really seem the romantic type.
“He once covered the entire house with solarflower petals,” Grace said.
“That was him?” Mede’s eyes widened in shock. “I remember that. I was, what, six years old? I thought you did that as some kind of strange cleaning ritual.”
“He wanted to make me smile. I thought I was pregnant again and it turned out to be nothing…again. The doctor checked me, told me I couldn’t have more children, and I was so sad that I couldn’t give him a larger family like other Draig wives. And do you know what he told me? He said I had already given him the rarest of solarflowers with a daughter and he didn’t need sons. He had me and he had you and that made his life complete.”
The Dragon's Queen (Dragon Lords) Page 14
