by Liz Flanagan
Tarya darted ahead, slipping into the garden of one of these abandoned villas.
‘Wait, Tarya!’ Milla yelled. ‘Wait for me! Where are you going?’ She followed her under a crumbling arch into the walled garden. To her right, a house reared up. Once elegant and gracious, it looked strange and dejected, one gaping window sprouting weeds and ivy. Milla watched a bird fly in through a jagged hole in the roof.
‘So, a haunted house is less scary than the duke’s son?’ Isak’s voice made Milla jump, startled. ‘Sounds like my sister.’
‘Oh, Isak, you came, too! I didn’t hear you.’ Knowing that he’d come after her made Milla feel less cold suddenly. ‘I think she’s gone in here. Let’s get out of the rain.’
His cheeks were pink, his glasses steamed up, and his hair was dripping wet. But he grinned at her: ‘Come on, let’s find her.’ He offered his hand.
Milla took it, finding comfort in the warmth of his fingers.
They walked deeper into the garden. Tarya was there, her dress and scarf soaked through, her hands tracing over the intricate stonework of the ancient wall. ‘Hey, you two. Come look at this. Dragons!’
‘Where?’ Milla asked quickly.
‘Look, here! Ah, they’re so beautiful.’
Milla ran up and touched the stone images – the proud necks, the powerful wings – ignoring the rain that ran down her sleeve.
‘Hey, this one, this is the first. It’s a dragon sitting on its eggs,’ Isak beckoned them over to the panel furthest from the ruined house. He took his glasses off and wiped them on his wet shirt, peering closer.
Milla looked hard at the carvings. Her heart started thumping in her chest. What about her eggs: had a dragon laid them? Looking closer at the image, she traced her fingers lightly over its lines. ‘What else is it sitting on?’ Below the eggs, there was a kind of nest, made of smaller round shapes. ‘Pebbles?’ Maybe she should make a nest for her eggs – perhaps they needed it?
‘No, don’t you remember? Dragons love gold. It’s in the old songs you hear,’ Isak said.
Milla’s hand fell down. Here was proof: if they were dragon eggs, then they weren’t meant for someone like her. Dragon eggs needed gold. They needed a dragonhall, a palace. She could be hurting them, hiding them in a smokehouse, of all places. They might die and it would all be her fault.
‘Gold! It can’t be. There’s piles of it …’ Tarya turned away to the next image. ‘Look, here it’s hatching!’
The next panel had the unmistakeable shape of two halves of the dragon egg, and the outline of a baby dragon.
Milla’s hand crept back and stroked the carving. Were her eggs going to hatch? How would she keep hiding them, if they did? What would she feed them? Suddenly she longed to tell Tarya and Isak about the eggs right now. They would have ideas. They could help her look after them.
The urge to share her precious secret grew irresistible and she gathered up her courage. ‘Come on, let’s sit down for a bit.’
They found a sheltered spot underneath two broad apple trees. The three of them huddled together for warmth.
‘Cosy,’ Tarya said sarcastically.
‘Better than being at home,’ Isak said. His face was pale now, but his breathing was quiet and steady.
Milla took a deep breath, getting ready to speak.
‘So,’ Isak got there first, his tone warm and gentle, as if Tarya was a spooked foal, ‘what did the duke’s son say to make you run screaming out into the storm?’
‘No. You first.’ Tarya nudged her brother. ‘Tell us, now we’re alone. What did Dad say to you the other day that was so awful? You’ve barely spoken since then.’
‘He’s sending me away, after your betrothal,’ Isak said in a rush, looking down at his wet boots, as if he couldn’t bear to see his sister’s face as he told her.
Tarya flinched at that word, betrothal. ‘He really wants rid of us both then?’
The wind lifted Milla’s hair. Everything was changing too fast. She felt light and insubstantial as a dandelion seed, as if this storm might blow her away too.
‘Nah,’ Isak whispered. ‘He thinks it’s for the best. He thinks it’s the right thing. He’s never known what people need, has he?’
‘Where?’ Milla said. ‘Where is he sending you?’ Maybe it wasn’t far. ‘Maybe Thom could bring us to visit on his fishing trips?’
‘The Silk Islands,’ Isak said. ‘Two weeks at sea each way.’
‘No!’ Milla wailed. Her dreams vanished, like pictures drawn in the sand.
‘You get to go away!’ Tarya said, sounding envious.
‘You get to stay here!’ Isak cried. ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘he actually thinks he’s being generous: setting me up to learn the trade from his partner out there. That’s why he’s so angry with me, his ungrateful son. Such a disappointment.’
‘Why can’t I come, too? He can’t send you away from me,’ Tarya wailed, knotting her arm through his. ‘I need you every day, not twice a year if I’m lucky.’
Me too, Milla thought. I need you both. You’re my brother and sister too! She threaded her arm through Isak’s other arm, and huddled close, shivering, still feeling the buried warmth of his body through their sodden clothes. The three of them clung to each other, as if they feared separation any moment.
‘W-w-when?’ Milla made herself ask. ‘Has he said when you’ll be betrothed, Tarya?’ She needed to know how long they had left.
‘A betrothal next spring, to get it signed and sealed, then a wedding when I turn sixteen,’ Tarya said, her voice high and brittle. One strand of hair had escaped her plait and curled against her cheek. She narrowed her eyes and frowned. ‘Just don’t expect to find me here! I’d take your path any day, Isak – you get to sail away.’ She sounded wistful. ‘You get freedom, your own work. You’ll get choices …’
‘That’s not true!’ Isak interrupted. ‘I didn’t choose this; Dad did. I don’t see what you’re complaining about,’ he went on. ‘You’ll get to stay here, see Dad, see Milla.’
Milla squeezed his arm in response.
‘Haven’t you realised?’ he went on. ‘One day you’ll be a duchess! You’ll live at the palace. You’re the one with freedom and choices.’
‘It’s just … I never thought he’d make me marry someone.’ Tarya’s voice didn’t change, but her cheeks glinted with tears. ‘I’m not his daughter. I’m just useful, like a boatload of grain, nothing more. He didn’t even tell me! Some excuse about waiting till I’d met Vigo, as if I’d swoon obediently into place.’
‘Same here.’ Isak tightened his grip on his sister’s arm.
Suddenly Milla wasn’t so sure. A cold thread of fear started curling its way through her thoughts, dark as squid ink. She was a listener and a watcher: she’d learnt to read people. She’d seen Nestan’s face when he rowed with Isak, and he was worried. He was expecting trouble. What did Nestan know, that Isak needed to be shipped away and Tarya placed safely behind palace walls?
‘You and me both,’ Isak went on. ‘I mean, I always wanted to travel. But not like this. Not so far away, without you.’ He turned to Milla. ‘Both of you.’
‘I don’t want this either,’ Milla managed to choke out, not mentioning her fears to the twins. ‘I don’t want to be left behind. If I could split myself in two, send half of me with each of you …’
‘I won’t leave you,’ Tarya said, but all her exuberance had faded.
The wind howled more strongly, like it was mocking them. They stayed like that, listening to the rain, holding each other.
Milla moved first. She saw something to Tarya’s left, glinting with moisture. She stood up, stiff and damp.
‘Did you drop something? I saw—’ she bent to rummage on the floor.
‘What is it?’ Isak asked.
‘Dunno.’ Milla turned her fist over. Something hard, cool, heavy in her palm. She rubbed it against her tunic, wiping the crusted dirt away. It gleamed when she held it up. A coin. A golden coin, stampe
d with a name and the outline of a king’s head.
She read aloud: ‘Rufus. Wasn’t he the mad duke? My friend Rosa told me that.’ As she held it, a cold shudder of dread went through her, as though a vast shadow passed over them.
‘Looks like gold,’ Tarya said. ‘Old though, from before.’
‘Keep it safe,’ Isak told her. ‘You found it, Milla. It’s yours now.’
The horrible icy feeling deepened as Milla turned it over between her fingers. ‘I don’t want it,’ she said firmly, throwing it down again. ‘It’s unlucky. Old Arcosi was cursed.’ As soon as it left her grasp, she felt better.
Tarya jumped up, and retrieved the coin. ‘What if we just left,’ she said, ‘as soon as the storm blows out?’ She paced restlessly, rubbing the coin with one thumb.
‘We have no money,’ Isak said.
‘No, but we could use this gold, and we could work?’ Tarya said, oblivious to the fact she’d never done a day’s work in her life. Her voice was hopeful and fragile. ‘At least we’d be together. All three of us.’
Tarya’s words warmed Milla through. Here was proof that someone trusted her. That she mattered: not just as a servant, but as a friend. It was time to make her decision. She wasn’t powerless. Not any more. She cleared her throat and began, ‘We can’t leave.’
‘So, what are we going to do?’ Isak asked. ‘Milla? You’re always the one with a plan.’
Both twins looked at her expectantly.
Milla met their eyes, looking from Tarya to Isak and back again. She would tell them. This was the time to put her trust in them, as Tarya had in her. If they really were her family, she needed to prove it.
Milla’s stomach flopped and twisted like a landed fish. She started speaking, fast and quiet, before she lost her nerve. ‘The thing is, something’s happened. It changes everything. On the day of the ball, a man hid a bag in the garden of your house.’
‘So?’ asked Tarya impatiently. ‘What bag?’
‘The bag contains four large eggs. This big.’ She showed them with her hands. ‘And he was killed for it.’ Milla described what had happened that day.
‘Right there, in our garden?’ Isak interrupted, suddenly ashen. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I saw it happen,’ Milla said, looking at their stricken faces.
‘But, why didn’t you say?’ Isak asked, bewildered. ‘A man was killed? That’s awful!’
‘I didn’t want to scare you that night. You had enough to think about.’
‘Milla, are you serious?’ Tarya whispered, clutching her arm. ‘Who would do that? We have to find them!’
‘Your father tried …’
‘When you say eggs … that size,’ Isak spoke slowly, ‘you don’t mean … could they be—?’ he tipped his head towards the carvings.
‘Dragons!’ Tarya breathed, her eyes sparkling.
‘I thought they might be precious stones, but they’re not.’ Milla was babbling now. ‘They’re alive. I’m sure of it. They could be birds … but the colours! They’re blue and green and red and yellow. I’ve never seen a bird’s egg those colours.’ She took a deep breath. ‘What else could they be?’
There was a long silence while the twins absorbed it.
‘So they’re still here?’ Isak asked. ‘You mean there are dragon eggs at our house, right now?’
‘Show us!’ Tarya said.
‘I will. I was just waiting for the right time to tell you. But promise me, you’ll keep it secret?’
They nodded solemnly.
‘I promise,’ Tarya whispered eagerly.
‘I promise,’ Isak echoed.
As they spoke their vows, Milla shivered. She felt as if the world was listening and had witnessed them.
‘Let’s go home, and I’ll show you,’ Milla said. They ran back to the Yellow House and immediately slipped round to the smokehouse.
‘Wait here,’ Milla opened the smokehouse door and crept inside. She felt around in the darkness, eager to find it, eager to see their faces, eager to start making plans. Her hands reached out.
Something was different. ‘No!’ With a sickening jolt, like waking from a dream of falling, everything changed.
‘They’ve gone! The eggs have gone!’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The eggs were really gone. Milla searched the whole smokehouse frantically, but they’d vanished. She staggered back to face the twins, but their father had summoned them to his study.
She saw the look on Isak’s face as he turned to walk away: uneasy, embarrassed. He didn’t believe her.
She went back inside the smokehouse and searched again, with tears pouring down her face.
‘Milla!’ Josi yelled from the kitchen, calling her back to work.
Milla swallowed down a sob and scrubbed at her cheeks with her sleeve. Her hair was still wet: she could pretend her tears were just rain.
‘Take this tray to the master. He’s called the twins to hear some news. As if they’ve not had enough—’ Josi stopped abruptly when she saw Milla’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’ She put the laden tray down to feel her forehead, clucking her disappointment. ‘You are cold as snow and soaked to the bone. Didn’t I say you’d catch a chill?’
Milla did feel frozen inside. Her mind was still stuck on that awful endless moment when she reached up for the eggs and found nothing. Someone had taken them. Her heart felt as raw and bruised as the scraps of meat Josi had been chopping.
‘It’s nothing,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ll take the drinks.’
Milla picked up the tray, vaguely aware that her hands were trembling and making the cups clink anxiously against each other. Maybe the master had the eggs. She would soon see for herself.
‘Make sure you come straight back here and warm up,’ Josi shouted after her.
When she pushed the study door open soundlessly and walked in, Milla cast a searching glance around the room and found no trace of the pannier. The master was sitting at his desk, with Tarya and Isak opposite him, Lanys standing to the side. Even from here, Milla could see the rigid tension in all four.
Nestan knew about the eggs! He must do. The atmosphere in the room was charged, like the air just before the storm broke. The door closed behind her and they all looked up with a start.
Lanys flashed her a mocking grin. A moment later, a mask of false solemnity was pasted over it.
So, Lanys had done this. Milla felt it like a slap. She’d resented Milla for years, jealous of her friendship with the twins.
‘Why, Milla?’ Nestan asked, accusingly. ‘Why did you hide this from us?’
Milla dropped the tray with a crash. The cups smashed into jagged shards and the pewter flagons spilled, red wine and water mingling in a dark pool on the floor tiles: a dirty, guilty stain.
‘Leave it,’ Nestan ordered as she moved to pick it up. ‘This is more important. Come here.’ He clasped his hands together. In his high-necked, dark jacket, he looked sombre.
Where were the eggs? Milla went to stand next to the desk. Her heart was thudding in her chest and her mouth felt dry.
‘Lanys brought the bag to me.’ Nestan sounded quietly furious. ‘The twins have told me the rest.’
So much for their promises.
Lanys must have noticed her going into the smokehouse too often. Milla cursed her own carelessness.
‘They said you witnessed the murder? And found the eggs?’ Nestan’s anger was white-hot and controlled, not blazing. It made it worse.
She nodded again.
‘And yet you chose to keep them hidden, all this time?’
She couldn’t move.
‘You’d better have a good explanation for deceiving us.’
‘I … I don’t know.’ The words burned: it hadn’t felt like deceit. ‘I didn’t mean it that way. I didn’t know what they were.’
‘Really?’ His voice grew louder now. ‘A man was murdered for a bag of eggs, and you didn’t guess what they were?’
So it was true: they were dragon eggs.
Milla put one hand out to steady herself.
‘I just wanted to keep them safe.’ She looked straight at Nestan, meeting his glare, hoping he’d see she was telling the truth.
She heard Lanys stifle a snigger behind her.
‘Safe? For whose purpose?’ Nestan demanded. ‘Did you see the murderer?’
‘He was masked. I could hardly hear him. Spoke Norlandish though …’
‘Did you know him?’ And before she could answer, something else occurred to him. ‘Did someone pay you to do this?’
‘No! Of course not!’ Milla cried out at his accusation. ‘It was horrible! I told you, he wore a mask, the man who did it. I don’t know who it was. I was scared, afterwards. I wasn’t thinking. And then we rushed out to the ball.’
‘What were you going to do with them?’ Nestan kept firing out the questions. ‘Sell them?’
‘No! I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t do anything with them.’ Milla realised how stupid she’d been, hoping she could keep the eggs hidden forever. ‘They were right here. I kept them safe! I was looking after them.’
‘I know what you’re like,’ Nestan said, softly now, ‘always wandering down to the lower town. Who paid you? Who are you working for?’
‘For you! I promise.’ Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Sure, I know lower-town folk. But I’m loyal – ask Josi! Ask Finn!’ She was shaken to the core by Nestan’s questions and his doubts.
Nestan continued to glare at her: ‘You’ve lived in my household almost all your life, Milla. I thought I could trust you.’
Milla stared at him through her tears. She felt something else behind his anger, but she was too distraught to work out what it was.
‘You can! You can trust me,’ Milla said, begging now. ‘Please!’ The whole conversation felt as unreal as a nightmare. She felt Tarya take her hand and that was the first thing she could believe in.
‘It’s all right, Milla.’ Tarya’s fingers squeezed hers. ‘She already told us about the eggs. She didn’t know what they were! She’s telling the truth, Dad. Unlike you.’ In Milla’s defence, she went on the attack, ‘Why didn’t you tell us someone was killed in our home?’
