Son of Dragons

by Andrea R. Cooper

  Inside a chamber without a stain or wrinkle upon the fabric or rugs, lay a child. Lying on a bed of pillows, she wore a white gown. Her skin was covered with purplish cysts. The only evidence that she was alive was the wheezing from each breath.

  “Heal her and I’ll give you half my kingdom.”

  “I don’t want your kingdom.” Celeste sat on the bed and placed each hand on either side of the girl’s head.

  In amazement, Mirhana watched the sores level. Then their color faded. With a cough, the King’s daughter opened her eyes. This was more miraculous than anything she had witnessed in millennia with the witches.

  The king laughed and hugged his daughter to his chest. “Most of my servants are dead, but all that I have save my daughter, Arianah, are yours.”

  “Did the pretty lady fall asleep?” Arianah asked.

  Mirhana glanced back at Celeste. Her body lay crumpled upon the pillows.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Celeste.” Even being in Brock’s arms did not make her respond. “Help her.”

  Mirhana’s hands flew to Celeste, but then she stepped away shaking her head. “Her wound still heals. I don’t understand it.”

  She saw Brock’s rage and stepped between him and the king. With his power to take kajh by touch, she didn’t know what she could do to stop him if he truly intended to kill.

  “I’m certain that she’ll be fine with rest.” Her stare bored into him, but he turned away.

  “If she … ” Brock squared his shoulders. “If she does not recover—I’ll make you wish the plague had killed you.”

  The man was oblivious to Brock’s threats, for he and his daughter wandered out of the chambers as if nothing had happened.

  “Carry her.” Mirhana touched his cloaked shoulder to avoid touching his skin, but providing sympathy.

  “She should not stay in a room recently fouled with plague. I’ll prepare one of the other rooms for her.”

  • • •

  “We’ve a chamber ready,” Mirhana said.

  Brock followed his sister while carrying Celeste. She led them through an archway and out into the gardens. It was dusk already.

  For a village wrecked with plague, someone tended this garden. Violets waved, and tulips puckered for a last kiss from the sun.

  Were Mirhana alone, she’d want to dip her toes in one of the marble fountains cradled into the ground. A stone hut sat beyond a lattice of rose bushes.

  “It’s the gardener’s.” Mirhana answered his unspoken question. “When he learned the Princess Arianah had been healed, he offered us his home.”

  Inside the hut, a straw bed lay against the far wall. A table and chair were in the center, and a hearth squashed between two large windows. Mirhana slumped into the vacant chair.

  “Just in case, I cleansed the room. I’m sure she’ll be fine with rest.” She stifled a yawn. “I thought it would be best when she wakes to have some time alone with you.” Her thoughts drifted to Landon and she felt her skin heat.

  Brock laid Celeste on the bed then sat beside her.

  Mirhana pressed her head on her arms and leaned on the table. She didn’t realize until then how much she, too, was drained.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep?” Landon tapped at her elbow.

  She jumped up with a start. “W-what? I’m not tired. There’s too much left to do.”

  “I’ll handle what I can.”

  “Other rooms must be cleansed.”

  “Sleep here for now. Gillespie and I will camp in the gardens.”

  This satisfied her, besides she was too tired to argue.

  Before Brock stepped foot outside to gather her bedroll, she was asleep on the floor beside the hearth.

  • • •

  Landon and Gillespie pressed their bedrolls against the shadow of the cottage to hide from the afternoon sun. Landon spotted a man staring at them.

  Without a word, he crooked a finger to follow him. Perhaps he wanted to question Landon about the horses.

  Landon followed him out of the gardens and inside the keep. When they marched toward the keep’s main entrance, he paused. “Where are we going?”

  “Word has spread.” He kept walking as if he didn’t see that Landon had stopped. “The people come for their healing.” He pushed the doors open, and a herd of villagers poured inside.

  A man hobbled on one leg, the other missing. Others held dying loved ones. One woman thrust her baby in his arms.

  “The healer has taken ill.” Landon stepped away from another child too close to his leg. “There’s nothing that can be done for you now.”

  Wails and shouts answered him.

  “You healed the king’s daughter. Is she more deserving than us?”

  “Did you promise these people healing?” He glared down at the old man.

  “I’m but the gardener. The king told me to tend to his subjects.”

  “When the healer has recovered, then you may come and seek healing.” Landon ran a free hand through his hair. “Till then—”

  They pushed by him, spilling into the foyer.

  Behind him, a voice echoed. “He speaks truth.” Brock held his sword ready for a fight.

  To his right stood Gillespie with his blade drawn, and Jeslyn with two of her curved knives flashing.

  “Let the babes and children come only.” Brock’s sword clipped a man underneath his chin. “The others will be seen in a few days.”

  “That’s not good enough.” One woman shoved a skinny man out of her way. “We need healing, too.”

  “If you don’t wait for the children,” Jeslyn hunched down aiming her blade at the woman’s pockmarked face, “then I’ll send you on your way now to the Forgotten Lands.”

  The woman skittered to the back of the crowd without another word.

  Children and babes were left at their feet as people backed out of the keep. When their parents passed the threshold, Brock leapt over the children then closed the door.

  “How did you know they were here?” Landon asked.

  “Mirhana.” Brock sheathed his sword. “Her pet outside woke her up and showed her the throng.”

  All but Brock carried an infant in their arms with the rest trailing behind them. The gardener picked up a crawling babe. Older children cried, but let the adults lead them down a corridor.

  “She told us to bathe and change the sick into clean clothes,” Jeslyn said over the wailing toddler squirming against her.

  Inside the baths, the king and Arianah poured buckets of steaming water into bathing barrels. Piles of tunics draped over stools. “Let’s bathe the infants first.” He emptied the last bucket of water. “Then Arianah will recharge it.”

  “Recharge?” Landon asked.

  “Aye. My daughter has slight healing when water is involved. When the plague took her, she was too weak.”

  After several of the youngest stripped down, they were placed inside the barrel. Gillespie, Landon, Jeslyn, the king and Arianah each scrubbed a squalling infant with soapstone.

  The children were dried and a clean tunic pulled over their heads. No steam rose from the water. Arianah, Landon guessed her age about nine, plunged her hands back into the water. Within minutes, steam began to coil over the surface, and the water cleared. It was as if they had refilled them with clean hot water. Repeatedly, they followed these steps until all the children were done.

  “I’ll fetch Mirhana.” Jeslyn rushed out of the room.

  “Our villagers mean no harm.” The king stepped toward Brock.

  His hand rose as if to clap him on the shoulder, but Brock dodged him. “Do not touch me. My flesh brings death, just as Celeste’s brings healing.”

  The king did not say another word, but nodded. Then he drained the water from the barrel down a shaft. Even though some of the children were not healed completely, many of them had rosy cheeks from the bath.

  Mirhana, now rested from her communication with her pet, was prepared for this massive healing of the others
. Jeslyn followed her inside the chambers. Her black braid had loosened, some strands hanging freely around her face and making her appear weary. Landon noticed this and longed to hold her in his arms and watch a smile tug at the corners of her mouth while she dreamed. He wondered if she dreamed of him.

  She went to the infants first. Her hands waved over each in turn. Their cries stopped then some fell into sleep.

  “Why do they slumber?” Gillespie asked.

  “Plague has drained them.” Arianah answered his question.

  Then Mirhana moved on to the other children. She was halfway done when Landon heard the older children whisper and stare in awe at her.

  “Her eyes are the green of jewels,” one girl said.

  “Like the stories, her eyebrows are arched.” A boy jerked on the edge of Mirhana’s green tunic. “Are you like our storybooks show? An Elvin?”

  “Aye.”

  When the boy heard her answer, he grinned. “I knew it.”

  The king motioned for the healed ones to follow him back to the foyer for their parents to collect them. He, his daughter, Jeslyn, and Gillespie helped carry the babies and children who were too young to walk.

  “I don’t wanna go,” a boy wailed. “Let me live here with her where I’ll be safe from the plague.”

  “This plague cannot touch you again.” Mirhana winked, then wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.

  One by one, they took the healed children outside to the waiting crowd.

  “When is it our turn?” a woman asked. She was young, but pain was etched across her face.

  “Come back in two days.” Mirhana handed one of the babies to his father.

  With grumbles, the people left.

  “What happens in two days?” Landon asked.

  “That will give me and Celeste time to rest.” Mirhana leaned against a pillar gave him a half smile.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Despite Mirhana’s words, days came and went, but Celeste did not wake. Mirhana and Arianah healed everyone in the village.

  Mirhana admired Landon’s compassion. Rather than allow the healed to leave as they had come, he worked with the servants to give all a full meal and loaf of bread before they left for their home. Some had traveled here from miles away.

  Without complaint, he worked with her from dawn until well after dark. Often, he staggered to his chambers—unlike Jeslyn, who would disappear for hours at a time. She didn’t know what the woman did, nor did she care. It only irritated her that Jeslyn took advantage of the king’s hospitality and used it for her own selfish purpose. The woman had already pleaded with him to make her gowns and accepted his lavish gifts of jewelry.

  Mirhana was thankful for shelter and food. She didn’t need jewels or gold.

  What about love? Her heart gripped her in its question. These weeks with Landon had given her a glimpse into something stronger than she had ever experienced. Was she brave enough to jump in with her heart and eyes open?

  It didn’t matter. She argued with herself. They were on a mission. If they were alive after, then … maybe.

  Each morning, she sparred with Landon. In a short time, he had mastered sword fighting with her.

  She slipped down the path past the moat where she and Landon dueled every morning. When his boots shuffled across the wooden drawbridge, she smiled.

  “Ready for something different?” She tossed aside her wooden stick.

  His grin was contagious. “Anything.”

  “Let’s see how good you are with hand fighting.”

  “I don’t think that’s fair to you. I’m much stronger than you.”

  “And you think strength will always win?”

  He placed his wooden sword that had cracked in several places, but still held, next to hers. “Months ago, I would have said yes. But you have proven me wrong before.”

  And you have amazed me, she added silently.

  • • •

  At the evening meal, Mirhana kept glancing at Landon, wondering what he was thinking. The physical closeness of sparring with him was a mistake. She could still feel his hands on her as she had shown him some holds and counters.

  When he caught her gaze, she went back to picking at her food. She missed the times sleeping alone with him under the stars. Every fiber of body and even her bones ached for him. She slept little. Did he feel the same?

  A dessert of yarberry tart was served. As Mirhana pushed her empty plate away, she saw Landon staring at her from the corner of her eye. However, when she looked up, he was talking with Gillespie.

  Mirhana and Jeslyn shared a chamber upstairs in the keep, while Gillespie and Landon took separate chambers on the lower level. Brock stayed by Celeste’s side.

  Mirhana saw the raw emotion in her brother’s face. It made her want to comfort him, but she didn’t know how. She had never experienced love that strong before. Her brief encounters with human men were few. And none, even the closest, was a shadow compared to what she witnessed between Brock and Celeste.

  Yet, she dared hope that the stirrings in her heart when she spent time with Landon might develop into a stronger bond. Already, he distracted her constantly.

  She left the dining chambers needing to walk out this excess energy. After outlining the walls of the keep with her steps, she still fought her desire.

  Part of her wanted to forget her pledge and make love with Landon. Her loins tightened at the thought. Her mind said he was human and given time, he would die and she’d be alone again.

  So focused was she on her thoughts, she didn’t see Landon turn the corner before her.

  He caught her before she fell. Her reflexes must have been off to lose her balance so easily.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” she snapped, then saw the concern in his chocolate eyes and let her heart and body win this time. What did it matter that she fulfilled her needs? She knew better than to think a lasting love would come to her in the form of a human. And she doubted her own kind would find her too humanlike features attractive. Still, her heart calmed whenever she was around him. She found herself longing for his company and envious when he laughed with someone else. If it were possible to love and not watch someone she loved die from old age and frailty, she would give her heart and this man a chance.

  The thought of it stirred a yearning in her. With her pulse quickening and before she talked herself out of her desire, she stole a glance at him.

  He turned and stood with his back against one of the open windows of the keep. The smell of smoke from the cooking fires lingered in the air. Her mouth dried like a riverbed during a drought. It was easier to face a hundred deadwalkers than this man before her.

  She tried to discern the emotion she saw in his face. His hair was damp as though he had bathed recently, and his face shaved, making him appear younger than with the stubble. When he met her eyes, she saw heat and passion smoldering in their depths.

  How easily she could do what was necessary and destroy the undead. Yet, here with this human, her strength wavered.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  “Pardon?”

  She placed her hands on either side of his face and leaned up on her toes. When her lips brushed his, he needed no further encouragement. His arms grasped her waist and hauled her closer to him.

  His lips tasted of wine, honey and the duck from the meal the king’s servants had served them earlier that evening. She couldn’t get enough of him.

  Soon they would need to move to his room, hers, somewhere private or the gods help her, she’d let him do whatever he wanted here in the corridor no matter who saw.

  Being near Landon was like being under an intoxication spell. Everything else faded into the distance. She could only see, hear and feel him.

  How did she think she could stay away from him, that surrendering to her feelings and this kiss just this once wouldn’t matter? She had deceived herself. There would be no turning back now. No walking away from this man.

/>   She felt the stare for several seconds itching along her back before it became a distraction from Landon’s lips. Someone watched them. She opened her eyes and saw Jeslyn standing in a corner. It was not embarrassment or happiness she saw reflected in her blue depths, but loathing underneath jagged rocks.

  She pulled her mouth from Landon who then nuzzled her neck. Brock turned the corner and seeing them, dropped his eyes and spun around. Jeslyn jerked toward Brock.

  “Give me a moment.” Mirhana eased out of Landon’s arms and followed after them to find out what was going on.

  She saw them strolling down the hallway and was about to run to catch up when Jeslyn’s words reached her.

  “Do you not approve of your sister’s love?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Brock veered away from Jeslyn as she leaned closer to him. “I had suspected.”

  “We’re alike, you and I.”

  The torches sputtered, making the blue jewels etched across her brows sparkle. “Both of us bring death. Even to those we love.” Her hand reached up to caress his face, but he blocked her with his forearm. Only the long sleeves of his tunic must have protected her, or she would be dead from the slightest touch since it had been weeks since his curse had feasted and Celeste was not able to use her magic to appease it.

  “It’s apparent that something disturbs you,” Brock said, “but I cannot offer you comfort.”

  Mirhana wanted to shake her. Did she think she had a chance with her brother? Making advances on him while Celeste lay unconscious?

  Mirhana stopped when she saw Jeslyn lean on her tiptoes and press her lips against his.

  As though surprised, Brock knocked against the far wall and away from her.

  Mirhana knew without asking that his curse must have opened on Jeslyn. The force of him dropping away from her saved her from death.

  Before Brock drew his sword, one of Jeslyn’s blades was at his throat.

  “This was supposed to be an easy assignment.” Her blue eyes took on the edge Mirhana had seen earlier. “Kill the witch or any of her party. Even promised extra to bring her Prince Landon alive.”

  “Prince?” Brock asked.