Dragoon (War of the Princes Book 2)

by A. R. Ivanovich

  * * *

  I hadn't realized how wrong things were until I stepped directly into the city by the sea. It didn't seem like much at first, just a few people wearing black. Wending my way deeper into town, each shop window I passed was framed with curtains of the same color. A marketing ploy? No, the black was everywhere. Each person I walked by was clad from head to toe in the darkest of shades. Inky flags flapped in the breeze above homes, libraries and art galleries. Even the great old clock tower was swathed in bolts of the stuff. Was it a holiday I didn't know about? No one was smiling. Not in the busy market, not in the town square.

  A magnificent elephant lumbered down a side street, with a farmer astride its back. Even the great mythical creature was tacked in black. Ebony ribbons twined down the length of its tusks. It was difficult not to stare in wonder as it went by.

  I drifted from place to place, hardly aware of how long I had wandered. Reaching the northern side of the city, I suffered a jolt. The entire district had been burned to the ground. There was no ash, just rubble, remnants of wooden frames, smashed tiles, and scorched stone foundations. I knew which fire this was. Stakes and the followers of his ruthless coup d'état had set the city on fire to distract their enemies from the battle. It was a horrible sight, keenly reminding me of the terrors I had witnessed firsthand. Here I stood, one year later, and no repairs had been made. Not a single home was restored.

  Fires had broken out in Haven Valley before. In each case, the flames were quickly doused, and groups of carpenters and volunteers made quick work of the repairs. A broken house would be rendered anew, with modern improvements.

  A sickening feeling settled into my stomach. Did this explain the dark expressions of Breakwater?

  The charred buildings and side streets mesmerized me. The damage was beyond extensive; it was tragic. People had died here. They must have.

  The sudden pop of a rickety car engine made me jump. I was startled out of my reverie and saw a pair of men approaching me on horseback, with a third mount in tow. By their brown uniforms, night goggles, and the guns holstered on their saddles, I recognized them as Breakwater militia. Each of them wore a thick strip of black cloth, tied around their right bicep.

  “Hello,” I said, hoping not to look too suspicious.

  “You are to come with us,” the lead rider told me. There was that accent again. Even considering the circumstances, I found that I loved hearing it.

  “That was fast. I take it this isn't a request,” I said drolly, hefting my packs over my shoulder.

  “Correct,” the gruff, middle-aged man agreed.

  I paused, watching them suspiciously. “You're not going to tie my wrists or throw a bag over my head or anything?”

  “Not unless you run,” said the second rider, reining up beside the first.

  “Fair enough,” I said under my breath, and hauled myself up into the saddle of the riderless bay equine. It had been a long time since I’d ridden a horse from the Outside World, and I'd forgotten how tall they were. I almost slipped from the stirrup. “May I ask where you're taking me?” If the installment fortress weren’t clearly in ruins, I would have been much more afraid.

  “Breakwater Keep,” was all they would say.

  Déjà vu.

  Chapter 7: Uncommon

  “So it is you. Katelyn Kestrel. A name I’ll never forget.”

  The guards stood beside me in a familiar room on the highest floor of the keep. The walls on either side were lined with mahogany bookshelves, filled neatly with leather-bound volumes, stacks of newspapers and tubes of rolled pages. Ahead were windows that spanned from floor to ceiling, framing the surging bay beyond. The lower halves of the windows were blocked from my view by a foot-tall dais, topped with a single desk. Mountains of papers, maps and letters cluttered its surface. A pair of elegantly masculine electric lamps stood upon either end of the desk, and between them, seated in a stiff wooden chair, was Common-Lord Axton.

  “Hello, Brendon,” I said with the slightest of sheepish smiles, gently shrugging my packs off of my shoulders onto the floor beside me.

  He gave me a long, hard look, mouth pressing to a thin line over his strong jaw. His dark wheat hair was cut short now, his skin weathered with tan. I'd figured that his age was somewhere in his middle twenties, but he appeared burdened by another fifteen. There was nothing royal about his clothes, they were black like everyone else's, but the man possessed a subtly regal bearing.

  Lord Brendon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wincing as he attempted to lean back.

  “Would you like a softer chair, sir?” one of my guards asked.

  “Do I deserve one?” the common-lord cracked back, glaring at the man. “Have I done some great deed, that I should receive a softer seat than my people toiling in the fields or dying for me in this damnable war? Are my old injuries more important than theirs? More than yours?”

  “S-sorry, sir,” the guard stammered, straightening his posture.

  “Leave us,” Lord Brendon commanded. My escort obeyed.

  When the doors were closed, he sighed heavily, and rubbed his forehead with one hand.

  “So you're insane then.”

  He must have been speaking to me. There was no one else in the room.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, taken aback.

  Brendon looked me dead in the eyes. “You're insane. After all of your long speeches about simply wanting to return home, after nearly being killed or taken to Raserion, you're back. Here. In my city.”

  “Where I'm from, people like to say insanity is often preceded by genius,” I answered with a smirk, lacing my fingers together before me.

  “Ah. We have a saying here as well. It's written there, on the first page of that great blue book. Fourth column, third shelf, seventh volume,” he said gesturing to the bookshelf on my right.

  The spine of the book was unmistakable. It was the brightest azure. Regardless, I stayed where I was, eyeing the area distrustfully.

  Seeing my honest hesitation, he marveled. “What's the problem? Afraid of a simple bookshelf?”

  “I'm sorry. The last time I was in Breakwater, I was nearly eaten by one.”

  “Ah,” he said, unfazed. “Yes, of course. I saw the room in the wake of the battle. It was... an unforgettable sight. The phrase is, 'No genius goes unpunished.'”

  Though I had only been joking to make light of our situation, his response humbled me. Both statements were undeniably true.

  “Brendon, um, Lord Axton, sir,” I stammered, unaccustomed to using titles. “I never had the chance to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Last year, during the fight, you could have re-captured me, but you let me go.”

  He flipped a paper-filled folder shut with one hand. “So I did.”

  “Why?”

  The world-weary lord looked me over for a long while before giving me an answer. “Commander Fallux proved, with his all-consuming determination, that you are not from the Northern Kingdom. You are not one of Prince Varion's spies or saboteurs, therefore, you are no threat to me or my people, so far as I know,” he said, then shifted in his chair again. “In addition, you had my brother with you. He appeared wounded, and I was grateful that you were taking him out of the fight. At the time.”

  At the time? Wait a minute! Was Brendon working with Dylan all along?

  “Your brother,” I growled, unable to say his name, “nearly had me killed.” I could feel the bottled electricity buzzing deep in the darkness of my being. “Is that why you let me go? Were you working for Stakes too?”

  Lord Brendon shot up from his chair and slammed his hands down on his desk. A teetering stack of papers fell to the floor like leaves.

  “I would suggest you either swallow your accusations or your tongue,” he boomed. The power at my fingertips vanished. Standing there, breathing deeply through his nose, he looked like a bull ready to charge. Instead, he spun away to face the window. When he spoke again, his voice was low and steady. “For
give my temper. Your questions are logical. Many things have happened since your escape.”

  “It's... it's okay,” I said with a shaky smile. So far as I knew, Lord Brendon had no single Ability, but the ferocity in his eyes was intimidation enough to keep me quiet. This was the man who had publicly defied Commander Fallux on a number of occasions.

  He faced me again, and returned gingerly to his seat. I wondered at his injury. Was it caused by an enemy soldier? One of my Lurchers?

  “No, I was not in league with my fool brother,” he said through his teeth, attempting to straighten some of his paperwork. “You see, my Lady Kestrel, I care for the people of Breakwater and little else. Yes, Prince Raserion has a yoke about my neck, as he does with all of his subjects, but I would rather fight to my last breath for the well being of my people than roll over like a dog for him. My actions and decisions are made solely for their benefit. Very much unlike the actions of my selfish brother.”

  “Sorry.”

  “As it happens, you are here in these chambers for that very reason. You have returned, and though I believe you couldn't have made a worse decision, I must welcome you, for the sake of diplomacy.”

  You're kidding me! Kat the diplomat? What kind of crazy dream am I living in?

  “If your home really does exist, and it must, a second visit deems you an Ambassador, after a fashion.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Aren’t I a little young for that?”

  Brendon raised his chin. “I was two months short of nineteen when my father died, making me Lord of Breakwater. Age is experience. Experience counts for much, but diligence counts for more.”

  The respect he was offering me was staggering, so, naturally, I fled to the shelter of humor. “So you're not going to throw me in a cell?”

  He almost smiled. “Not this time. But it depends entirely upon your business here, and your behavior. You have me at a disadvantage. Your knowledge of my kingdom exceeds my knowledge of yours. What I understand is that you, at least, are a powerful individual. Breakwater has been through enough. What we do not need is another enemy.”

  My mouth fell open. Was he nuts? “I'm no one's enemy!” I promised.

  He eyed me shrewdly. “Would you say that to the charred corpse of Commander Stakes?”

  “He tried to kill me,” I whispered, absently raising a hand to the circle of scars below my collarbones.

  “I don't trust you. But I'll give you a chance. Your first visit was an accident, according to you. Why have you returned?”

  Oh no.

  What could I say? Keeping my mouth shut may have saved my life last year, but Lord Brendon was giving me an honest chance. If I lied now, what kind of ambassador would I be? Whether I liked it or not, I was Haven's representative. Between board games and debate class, I learned that a show of good faith was necessary for a foundation strong enough to prevent future back-stabbings.

  “I'm looking for something,” I said.

  “Vague.”

  I shook my head and took half a step back. “You'll turn me in to the Prince.”

  Lord Brendon folded his arms together atop his desk. “Fair enough. I'll give way. The fire that you were examining consumed an entire quarter of Breakwater, killing thirty Dragoons and three hundred forty-two citizens, leaving roughly seven hundred injured. There were ninety-eight surviving orphans, but they didn't need to wait long.

  “Our previous governing Margrave was drained for having promoted Stakes to Commander. The new Margrave, Hest, formally accepted her station, took a ship directly to us, and exacted Penalty.”

  The new Margrave is a girl?

  Unsatisfied with my reaction, he elaborated. “She came to Breakwater, and, as punishment for a civil battle, she took the children.”

  “All of them?” I asked in disbelief.

  He nodded, his expression grave.

  “It's why you're wearing black, isn't it?” I whispered, feeling my heart sink. “All of them? Even, the, the kids from the stable? Lina Thayer?”

  His frown was deep with sorrow and his head bowed ever so slightly. “All.”

  No. Not Lina.

  She was such a sweet girl. Lina had even tried to rescue me when I was taken away to the installment fortress. She was brave and good, and now she would be forced into the same horrific life that tortured her brother and countless others in this place.

  After everything Rune did to protect her.

  “What happened to the Dragoons?”

  “Gone. Taken to the front lines. Six months ago, the war pressed to the enemy's gates, but now they're pushing back. Our Prince Raserion is under siege, as close to the capital as the Northern forces have reached in fifty years.”

  I felt sick, but I should have known. This place was volatile at the best of times. What hope was there that I would ever see him again?

  “We've been left to protect ourselves,” Brendon said, sitting up straighter. “I am not pleased with my Prince. If I uttered those words to any of Raserion's men, it would be enough to promise my execution. Using you as a bargaining piece will not bring the children home, or the dead back to life. Now you understand my motives. Safety for my people, what's left of them. I want nothing else. Keep my secrets, and I'll keep yours.”

  I shuffled uncomfortably, and then gave in. From what I'd seen of him, Lord Brendon was both direct and honest. If I didn't gamble on an ally now, I wouldn't have a leg to stand on. “I'm looking for a small group of people, led by one in particular. We're from the same place. They were crazy for coming.”

  “Genius, you mean,” Lord Brendon said, gracing me with a rare smile.

  I smiled back. “Each and every one. They didn't know what they were getting into. I want to get them and leave.”

  “Brave,” he noted.

  “Stupid,” I said looking down and feeling like the biggest idiot in the world.

  “Perhaps a little of both, but don’t lose faith. You have The Pull. You, of anyone, should be able to find them. Do you have any idea where to look?”

  “I feel like I need to go out on the water,” I told him. The idea frightened me. I was a strong swimmer, but the ocean could be as violent and unpredictable as any Commander.

  “You may be able to commission a ship at the harbor. But what if you cross the Prince's army? What then?”

  “I really don't know.”

  “It would be worth considering,” was his understatement. “I see your eyes have chosen a color. That'll help.”

  “It wasn't a good enough disguise to trick you. How did you find me so quickly anyway?”

  “My men stumbled upon something of yours. After that, it was only a matter of searching the city.”

  I tilted my head to one side. “What did you find?”

  Lord Brendon sat up in his chair and projected a single word. “In!”

  The doors behind me swung open and a group of people jostled into the room. Four of them were guards, and three of them were Kyle, Ruby and Sterling.

  C hapter 8: The Terms

  And just like that, I stepped firmly onto the hardened soil of my worst nightmare. My shock boiled down to fury within seconds. Ruby was clearly terrified, and stared frequently at the guns and swords worn by the guards. Sterling jerked his arm away from the clutches his captor, glaring with defiance. Kyle, meanwhile, just stood there smiling guiltily at me, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. Their hands were bound in front of them. Kyle waved awkwardly.

  I wanted to kill them.

  I wonder if I could get away with it. What's the penalty for murder in Breakwater?

  The headlines popped up in my imagination. After meeting for peaceful negotiations, Haven's first diplomat kills three. Taking in a breath, I attempted to steady my nerves, and turned back to face Lord Brendon.

  “It appears that you were followed,” he observed.

  You're kidding me, Common-Lord Obvious.

  “Judging by your expression, you didn't expect them.”

  “Nope
.” I said, battling hysteria.

  Shaky words came tumbling from Ruby. “W-we were trying to–”

  “A moment,” Brendon said, silencing her. “When we found them, they mentioned your name. I assumed correctly that you’d be drawn to the site of the fire, hideous as it is. Are these the people you seek, Miss Kestrel?”

  I wished they were. We’d be back in time for dinner and it’d be scones and celebrations for everyone. “No. But they are friends of mine.”

  “You keep reckless acquaintances, but then, the fish is never far from the shoal.”

  Whatever that means.

  I fought against the desire to look back at them. Their fates were up to me now. I couldn’t show weakness. “Are their restraints really necessary?”

  “They are, until I decide otherwise.”

  I swallowed. “You won't hurt them will you?”

  Brendon leaned onto the arm of his chair and looked at me like I was a colossal moron. “No, I won't. Though, it seems to me, on a mission such as yours, it would be a poor choice to bring other people that Prince Raserion would like to capture,” he mused.

  “I agree completely.”

  “No matter. The cards have fallen and we must play our hands, such as they are. These foolish friends of yours may be of help, provided you can trust them,” Brendon said, resting his knuckles on his desk. “Will any others be joining you?”

  “I don't think so,” I answered through my teeth.

  “If they do come, give me your word that you will assure them that Breakwater is no threat.”

  His confidence in me was staggering. I wasn’t exactly an influential force in Haven. I was a nobody, but I’d do my best anyway. “Of course. I mean, I promise.”