A Lamentation of Swans

by Desiree Acuna

  The moon rose when she’d settled beside Drake to carefully squeeze water into his mouth. Drawn by the brightness of the light, she lifted her head to stare at it. Her chest tightened when she saw why it was so bright. It was almost three quarters full.

  Fear wound its way through her. The thought occurred to her that the men were unconscious and unable to stop her if she fled, but it had no sooner flashed through her mind than it was followed by the realization that they were unconscious and defenseless. She couldn’t leave them like that. They’d nearly died today defending her. It didn’t matter that they had their reasons for protecting her. It only mattered that they had and that she cared too much about them to leave them when they might need her.

  They were magicals, her inner voice reminded her, far more capable of surviving even such terrible wounds than any mortal. It didn’t matter. They needed her now. That mattered.

  Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze from the clock that was counting her days and focused on Drake. The moment she looked at him, a strange sort of peace settled inside her. She stroked his dragon face lovingly and leaned down to kiss him again before she left to check on Caelin.

  * * * *

  Caelin allowed the tension to go out of his muscles when Gwyneth left Drake and moved to the stream again. He knew the moment she lifted her head to stare at the moon what must be going through her mind. He’d expected her to leap to her feet and run.

  He didn’t know what to think when she didn’t. He stared up at the moon, listening to her movements. Why would she stay, he wondered, when she knew what lay ahead of her?

  She looked surprised and glad when she knelt beside him a few moments later and discovered he was conscious. A smile curled her lips. “I was worried about you. Feeling better?”

  He struggled to sit up, grunting with the effort. She planted a hand on his chest and leaned against him to hold him down and he subsided, staring at her in bemusement. “Just lie still a little longer. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He studied her face curiously. “How are Faine and Drake?”

  The smile disappeared. Worry creased her brows. “I don’t know—unconscious. Faine hasn’t been conscious since Drake carried him in. I don’t know what to think of that. Drake—said he needed to sleep a bit and he would be alright and then passed out. He’s terribly wounded, Caelin.”

  Caelin’s brows creased. “He has not shifted?”

  She shook her head.

  He nodded and settled back. “He will heal faster.”

  Gwyneth swallowed a little convulsively, but it calmed her fears considerably to hear that. “He’s too weak to shift,” she said flatly.

  Something flickered in Caelin’s eyes. “He knows he’ll heal faster in his true form. He is an old dragon, wench. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “I am not old,” Drake growled, his voice faint and ragged with pain. “I will have you know that I am in my prime, youngling!”

  Sucking in a quick breath of sheer delight, Gwyneth shot to her feet and limped quickly to his side. “You are awake!” she said with pleasure.

  “I was not talking in my sleep,” he retorted irritably.

  Gwyneth knelt beside him and leaned down to rub her face along his rough cheek. “Are you thirsty, old dragon?” she asked teasingly.

  His eyes gleamed. “Take care that this weathered old dragon hide doesn’t scratch that pretty cheek, wench!”

  She kissed his snout. “I will get you a drink of water.”

  “Food would not be amiss, wench. I am hungry! How is the unicorn?”

  “I still live … more is the pity,” he said with a touch of bitterness.

  “Do not say such a thing!” Gwyneth said crossly, moving to him and kissing his face. “Thank the gods that you are! That was a terrible wound! I was worried sick about you!”

  He swallowed audibly when she leaned away. “I am relieved at least to see that you are alive … no thanks to my clumsy attempts to protect you!” he added dryly.

  “They were not clumsy! We were sorely outnumbered.”

  “And surrounded!” Caelin put in angrily. “Did it slip your mind that you were to keep the wench out of the thick of it!”

  “He saved you from being stabbed in the back!” Gwyneth snapped, whirling on him angrily. “If he had not leapt to your defense, that bastard would have run you through!”

  Caelin stared at her—gaped at her actually. Anger and jealousy swiftly overcame his shock at her angry defense of Faine, however. “It was not his job to watch my back! He was supposed to be guarding you!”

  “You do not need to make him feel worse! It was the right thing to do! We would’ve been surrounded regardless—were surrounded!”

  “You do not know that!”

  “I do! They were everywhere. He held back until he saw the soldier coming up behind you and we were already surrounded and he was fighting. They were trying to cut us off and would have if he hadn’t leapt to your defense. It was actually better that he did—except that he was wounded—because you were there to help me when he fell.”

  Caelin stared at her for a long moment, wrestling with her logic, and finally glanced at Drake. He saw amusement in the dragon’s eyes but no help. “Then I must thank you, Faine, for your help,” he grumbled, settling back on his bedroll and glaring up at the sky.

  “You are welcome,” Faine said stiffly. “But you are right. I should have allowed the bastard to run you through and found my way clear of the men so that I could protect Gwyneth. It is not that I did not try, by the gods! I am deeply aware that I failed!”

  “Hush!” Gwyneth said chidingly. “I am not hurt … hardly at all. I was … so proud of all of you! So amazed! You are a formidable army! I am sure King Gerald will not be in any shape to attack again!”

  Caelin felt his face heat. He squirmed uncomfortably, but he couldn’t help but be pleased that Gwyneth thought they’d acquitted themselves well. He thought they’d done very well, himself, considering the odds. It was unfortunate that he hadn’t realized the odds they might have to face. He felt like a complete dolt not to have considered that they might be overrun. Considering the damage Drake had already done to Gerald’s men, though, he’d been confident that he would not have mustered so many so quickly.

  They had underestimated King Gerald, he thought grimly. There was no getting around the fact that their arrogance had very nearly resulted in disaster.

  Gwyneth found the food they’d brought with them and carefully divided it between the four of them. It was very little divided four ways, even though Caelin saw Gwyneth hadn’t kept more than a few bites for herself. They would need food, and soon, he thought tiredly, especially Drake and Faine. They were hurt far worse than he was. Deciding it could wait until he’d rested a few hours more, he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

  Panic went through him when he woke and saw no sign of Gwyneth. He wasn’t particularly pleased when he discovered she’d taken Drake’s bedroll and tried to cover him and then curled up next to him. Shaking his head at her feeble attempt to keep the dragon warm when she looked like a child curled up beside the great, hulking brute, he left the camp to search for food.

  When he returned near dawn, Drake and Faine were sitting around the campfire. Gwyneth was asleep on the pallet he’d abandoned. He wondered if she’d gotten there on her own or if Drake had moved her.

  Drake and Faine examined his offerings with a touch of pique.

  “That is the best you could do?” Drake asked. “I could eat that by myself.”

  “But you won’t,” Caelin retorted irritably. “You are lucky I managed to snare a few hares. I have no bow for hunting.”

  “I will change soon,” Faine said. “I can find something to fill my belly then.”

  Drake and Caelin exchanged a speaking look and kept their peace.

  Drake broke the silence nigh an hour later. “How is the child?”

  Faine leaned over to touch her forehead lightly. “No sign of a fever, I don’t
think. She seems a little warm, but I am thinking it is the fire.”

  “Child?” Caelin muttered. “She is all woman.”

  Drake shrugged. “She could be one hundred and still seem a child to me.”

  “I thought you were in your prime?”

  Drake sent him a look. “I am.”

  For all the complaints about the hares, it at least didn’t take long for them to cook and Caelin handed one to Drake and one to Faine. Despite his earlier protest, Faine took it, as Caelin had suspected he would. It took a great deal of energy to heal wounds and Gwyneth hadn’t exaggerated when she’d wept over how grievously both Drake and Faine were wounded.

  “She wept for me,” Drake said, studying her sleeping face, both surprise and confusion in his voice. He glanced at the others to see if they could challenge his statement. “She had the strangest look upon her face when she looked at me … and she wept.”

  “Pity,” Caelin said shortly, annoyed with the train of Drake’s thoughts, more annoyed because he had seen it himself and it aroused a sense of possessiveness he wasn’t particularly happy about.

  “It was not pity!” Drake indignantly. He thought it over, and added before Caelin could suggest it, “Nor fear or revulsion either … and I was in dragon form.”

  Caelin grunted. “And you are a magnificent dragon,” he said dryly.

  Drake perked up, sending Caelin a pleased look. “Indeed! Gwyneth says it is immodest to say so, but I have heard it said many times—that I am a magnificent drake. That is the lady dragons, though,” he added. “Gwyneth is human. She would not be able to appreciate how magnificent a dragon I am.”

  Caelin rolled his eyes. “Can you not come up with another word to brag about yourself? I weary of magnificent.”

  Drake looked at him indignantly. “There is not another word that so perfectly describes me!”

  “You love her,” Faine said.

  Drake turned to look at him. “I have cherished every inch of her,” he agreed. “And when I am better, I will do so again.”

  Faine frowned. “You are in love with her,” he said tightly.

  Drake gaped at him. “Do not be absurd! I am a dragon! I respected and admired my mate, Maud. I even felt a good deal of affection for her, but we dragons are not subject to such … maudlin sentiments! We are not capable of it!”

  Faine heaved a miserable breath. “I am in love with her.”

  Drake glared at him and then glanced at Caelin. Discovering that Caelin was also glaring at Faine, he returned his attention to Faine. “That is nearly as absurd as saying that I am in love with her! You are a unicorn, dunderhead! And unless I am very much mistaken, and I almost never wrong, she is the lost princess!”

  “I did not say that I was worthy of her!” Faine ground out. “I am only saying what I feel in my heart!”

  “Since the last time I saw you displaying your affection, it was with your white ass bobbing up and down between her thighs, I am more inclined to call it lust,” Caelin said sardonically.

  Faine scowled at him and then abruptly clasped his head between his hands as if he would crush his skull. “Do you think I do not know that I have sullied something that should have been as pure as she is? I cannot help it! I have such impure thoughts! Each time I close my eyes, I see her lying naked in the moonlight—think I can almost feel her smooth, white skin. I see her beautiful breasts with their perfect pink buds and I thirst to take them in my mouth. I see her beautiful ….”

  “Stop it!” Drake growled. “You are making me horny and I am as certain as I can be that I will pass out if my cock gets any harder! I am not recovered yet, gods damn it! Do not be waving what I cannot have under my nose!”

  Faine dropped his hands and stared at the fire morosely. “I am justly served for the evil things that I have thought to do.”

  “Have thought about doing? Or have done?” Drake asked with interest.

  Faine stared at him a long moment and finally got up without answering. Undressing, he carefully packed his bundle and strapped it on as he did each dawning. He’d barely done so when the first rays lit the sky and he changed into his true form.

  “He enjoys suffering,” Caelin said irritably as he watched Faine trot away from them.

  Drake frowned. “I had not thought so, but you may be right. If he did not, he would have had better sense than to decide to fall in love with a princess.”

  Caelin watched Faine until he’d taken flight, off in search of a field to graze in, no doubt. Stirring the fire with a stick, he studied Gwyneth’s sleeping face for a moment. “You are right. That is the height of idiocy.”

  Chapter Eleven

  It wouldn’t have been accurate to say that Gwyneth felt no regrets at all for her decision to stay when she might’ve had the chance to flee. She realized, though, that it had only felt like a decision she’d made when, in truth, she had no more freewill in choosing her fate than the men had. Artimus had sent the three of them to take her from Belmor Castle to the temple. To do the things he’d already done to insure it, it was clear that he meant for her to be there and if he could reach beyond the underworld then it seemed unlikely that she could outrun him no matter what she did.

  It comforted her a little to think that her sacrifice might actually be worth something to someone other than Artimus. She thought she would truly have felt that her life was nothing if it hadn’t bought something for the men she’d grown to care about.

  At least she had that to cling to—Drake would have his daughter back. Caelin would know that his mother’s soul was free and that she could find peace, and poor Faine would see an end to his own torment. Mayhap, he could even return to his tribe and find acceptance.

  She discovered that it was comforting, too, that Faine had said that it would be quick and relatively painless. She’d seen many, many horrible, lingering deaths in her time, but very few that were swift and clean. She wasn’t ready to face the other world, the spirit world. She wanted … something of the life she had before she passed, but the truth was that until she’d followed Caelin off, she had had nothing ahead of her but a life of misery, drudgery, and hardship.

  It was ironic that the only true happiness she’d known was with the men who were taking her to her execution, but it was still true. In some ways, she thought it was a fair exchange—a few weeks of happiness after years of misery. Unfortunately, it was the happiness that made it harder to give up her life. She wasn’t certain if she could’ve been any more accepting if she’d been snatched directly from Belmor Castle and transported in the blink of an eye to the temple, but she almost thought she might’ve been. She’d been desperate enough to beg a stranger to help her, knowing full well that he might’ve done anything to her once he had her away from the castle.

  She did her best to not think of it at all, to simply enjoy life while she could, but of course it shadowed the back of her mind every step of the way and could not be completely banished.

  It was nearly mid-day the day after the battle before they left their campsite and moved on. She didn’t approve of them moving that soon, but Caelin seemed almost fully recovered and even Drake and Faine were much improved. They moved slowly for all that. Caelin took her up on his horse with him since Faine was still recovering. Drake, despite the odds against it, had managed to find the horse he’d ‘broken in’.

  They moved down the opposite side of the mountain they’d been climbing and into a wide valley before they stopped near a stream for the night. Drake, despite the fact that he was still weak, left them to go hunting and returned a few hours later with a large deer and the intelligence that he’d seen no campfires near enough to pose a threat. It seemed King Gerald’s men were still in full retreat.

  Remembering what she’d seen of the battle, she wasn’t surprised. Drake had probably taken out more than half of the men slain that day by himself and both Faine and Caelin had slain at least a dozen men between them and wounded that many more. She had no clear idea of the exact number of men t
he king kept, but she thought that that battle would have had to have been a severe blow. She was certain he would be forced to give up if only because of the number of men he’d lost.

  It transpired that she was wrong. Three days later, they arrived at the Temple of Mannet Rae at Sherbrooke and found the remainder of King Gerald’s army camped almost in the shadow of the Temple and waiting for them.

  * * * *

  Drake, Caelin, and Faine studied the army spread out over the plain of Sherbrooke in grim faced silence.

  “Somehow I do not think they are there to welcome us and escort us inside,” Caelin said finally.

  Drake grunted an agreement. “Upon reflection, I suppose it might have been better to have rushed to the temple as swiftly as possible and kicked our heels there while we waited.”

  “Well!” Caelin said. “We tried! I suppose we might as well turn around and leave now.”

  Gwyneth felt a surge of hopefulness that made her heart run away with her.

  Drake slid a glance at him. “And miss our chance to destroy Artimus forever?”

  Gwyneth glanced at Drake in breathless surprise, afraid to accept the hope that welled inside of her.

  Caelin swiveled around to look at Gwyneth. “I’ve never much liked the notion of using the wench to get to him.”

  “We’re not likely to get close enough without her,” Drake said pointedly. “We need her to draw him out.”

  Caelin looked at him again. “We may all die in the attempt.”

  Drake nodded, issuing a deep sigh. “We have known since we joined forces that it might come to that. It … disturbs me far more than it did in the beginning, but nothing else has changed. It must be done. We must rid the world of him once and for all and Gwyneth is the key.”

  Caelin frowned. “We still don’t know how she is to be the key.”