by Lisa Daniels
The wagons stopped, and a set of giants lumbered over to them, picking up the cages in their huge, meaty hands, and placing them upon a crude wooden stage. One giant remained at hand. A hobgoblin with orange skin grinned at his captives with sharp teeth, his pointed chin narrow enough to hang coats on.
Two giants on the side started bashing huge cymbals, generating a horrific cacophony that seized the attention of everyone there. Ruelle clamped hands over her ears, her teeth vibrating from the noise, wincing. Several princesses and nobles started wailing, and a witch ambled past their cages, stealing the voices from the noisy ones and storing each sound in her locket.
A sea of monsters gaped at the captives, and the hobgoblin, who stood on a stepladder to reach the top of the podium on their wooden stage, cleared his throat.
“Welcome, welcome, monsters and men! This month we have a brilliant haul for you, with a batch of princesses, princes and nobles, fresh out of their kingdoms!”
A storm of cheers greeted the hobgoblins thin, reedy voice, and he smiled in a rather simpering way, adjusting the monocle wedged into his eye.
“Yes, yes. We have a total of forty different exhibits for you today. Let's start with lot number one! Bring her forward, Marcell!”
The giant picked open the cage marked One with a finger, then tugged the princess out of the cage, dumping her on his palm. She screamed soundlessly, having had her voice stolen, and started tearing at her flaxen hair in distress.
“As you can see,” the hobgoblin announced, indicating the princess with her face puffy with tears, ravaged by despair, “she's a very traditional princess. She reacts appropriately to such a situation, and would despise being with any kind of monster. She comes from a border kingdom, so her Quest value won't be as high as those from the central ones, but she still holds enough interest to make any monster's life interesting. A perfect princess for all you traditionalists out there.” He gave a huge grin, and the monsters looked around excitedly, before the bidding started.
The princess by now had collapsed into a little ball in the giant's hand, unwilling to function, having acted out her role as captive with admirable tenacity. Ruelle even saw some of the other princesses taking notes, as they plotted how best to react in the company of monsters.
I won't act anything like them. I couldn't, anyway. I've never been brought up that way.
The first princess got sold in the end to a rather droll faced orc, who happily stepped ahead to pay for his princess.
On the side of the stage, Ruelle noticed a man standing there, observing the crowd. Green eyes shone out of his face. His muscular arms were folded, and he wore a sly smirk upon thin, cold lips. Ruelle vaguely recalled seeing him during the wagon procession, though she'd been mostly brooding in her cage, pissed off at having been landed in such a terrible position. To have the curse finally come to pass on her eighteenth birthday.
He must be one of the owners of the wagon trail. One of the ones responsible for capturing and shipping everyone here. Instant hate welled up inside her, and if possible in that moment, she would have quite happily throttled him on the spot.
No matter how irritatingly attractive he happened to be as an individual.
When Ruelle watched dragons shift into humans and shift back again, her eyes widened as she paid closer attention to the man.
She sensed the same kind of presence about him that the other dragons possessed – an air of command, a superior hold of their shoulders, a cold gaze.
Even if he is a dragon, it will make no difference to my fate. It did make her feel a little better, however, to focus and contemplate on something. To obtain some sort of control, even as her turn for being auctioned neared.
As long as it's a powerful creature, I should be worth a lot to decent Questers.
The hobgoblin auctioned off six more people to monsters such as ogres, werewolves, vampires and minotaurs. With every sell, the man with his blue tunic and matching pants stood there, his bearing as imperious as a mature kingdom prince.
When Xanthia was placed upon the stand, excitement rose at the idea of a central kingdom princess. Far more dragons raised their limbs, trying to secure a central woman for themselves. Xanthia did the soundless screaming routine, beating her fists uselessly against the giant's palm, who appeared to completely ignore all her attempts to punch him.
Eventually, Xanthia got sold to a rather lecherous looking dragon with gray skin, who had a disconcerting way of standing on his rear legs, and folding in his arms at the front in dragon form, appearing hunched and awkward.
Good luck, Xanthia. Hope you get rescued soon.
Ruelle kept running through her options, not wanting to resort to screaming like the others. She still held her voice, though the voice stealing witch glared at her suspiciously, fondling her necklace. At times, Ruelle felt convinced she heard the screams of all the princesses locked up in there, as if from a great distance.
When Ruelle's turn finally arrived, the giant's hand reached down to her cage, opening and plucking her out of the small enclosure, rolling her onto his palm.
Instantly, as the hobgoblin started introducing her, she launched herself off his hand, tucking and preparing to break her fall. The impact with the wood diverted itself through her roll and feet to shoulder contact, and she ended up by the hobgoblin's side. The hobgoblin let out a squeak, just before she flattened her hand and chopped him in the neck, making him fall unconscious within an eyeblink.
The crowd gawped at Ruelle, who, tucked in her simple white training robes, appeared nothing like a princess. She dodged a swipe from the giant and hastily dug into the hobgoblin's pockets, fishing out a dagger, and backflipped to avoid the giant's grasping palms.
Before she made a serious bid for escape, the passive man on the side of the stage had now suddenly decided to stop being passive. Green eyes fixated on her. His longish dark hair flowed behind him as he charged towards Ruelle, who now figured her best chances were to escape the stage and make it for the forests.
Even if the forests might be full of monsters and enchantments, she could simply adopt the guise of a Quester and make it her Quest to return home.
At least she knew how to fight. So that was something.
The curse declared I'd never make it back to the kingdom. Well, I'll just have to find a way to break the curse.
Determined, Ruelle avoided another swipe, now dealing with the man with the green eyes. Sensing she couldn't block his blows, she swerved as he bulled past, even as the nobles and royals all gaped at her in shock, and the monster crowd had resorted to cheers and shouts. They were enjoying the spectacle, of all things.
An ogre attempted to block her way, and she skidded underneath his wide apart legs, ducking an attack from a harpy. Several monsters in her way simply cheered, encouraging her on, and she headed towards the densest patch of woodland she saw, hoping to lose the crowd, hoping they wouldn't stop procedures to chase one bothersome princess.
She heard the distinctive thunder of feet behind her, and glanced back to spot the green-eyed man charging her again, hearing him bark at the others to continue the auction.
Her dreams of freedom cut themselves short when the charging man morphed into a huge black dragon, and in a few easy bounds, caught up with her and blasted fire in front of her, forcing her to stop for one heart-rending second. He took the opportunity to seize her in his talons.
Scooped up in tough claws, she heard the dragon growl, “Well, guess I’ll take you for myself.”
Not wasting her time, Ruelle attempted to focus on finding a weak spot in his hands. She used her dagger to push at his scales, but did no damage at all.
The dragon let out a sigh. “Still trying, even now?” He held her close to his face and inspected her for a moment, snout pressed against his hands, puffing hot air onto her. “You will do perfectly.”
Without understanding what she'd be perfect for, the dragon flapped his great wings and soared away from the clearing, Ruelle trapped with
in.
Chapter Two
Arriving at the dragon's lair, a cave in the middle of a dark, mountainous forest, Ruelle was dumped on a small, ratty brown sofa before he transformed back into human form. The place looked like a dump, without any sense of grandeur placed in the room, without any kind of dignity showing with the bare bones structure of the furniture. A double bed lay on the side, where he obviously slept if he chose his human form.
Even with the minuscule cave, and the sound of rain dripping outside, Ruelle knew her value to Questers would now be through the roof. Past the Dark Clans, inside the deep woods with hundreds of monsters on either side, and the careless, strewn riches bulging out of a wooden side door, suggesting an already full treasure room – surely, hundreds of Questers would be vying to defeat the dragon.
Maybe I won’t be captured very long at all.
The dragon introduced himself as Kerric, and lit candles with a match, illuminating his green eyes in the flickers of flame. There was a small irony, Ruelle thought, that a dragon even needed to resort to matches at all.
“Most dragons would force their princesses to clean home and do incredibly boring tasks,” Kerric declared, folding his arms and giving her a dangerous, heart churning smile, “but considering the fire you showed at the auction, I have a very different idea in mind for you.”
Ruelle glared at him flatly, not impressed, not intending to cajole to any of his whims. “Yeah?”
Kerric yawned. When he moved, his body rippled with power. Full of control, screaming to Ruelle of the danger that lay under his skin. His next words punched through her observations. “I'm going to train you to fight.”
For a moment, Ruelle blinked, utterly confused at the statement. She'd been expecting something like becoming a slave in a dungeon, or being forced to muck through toilets as well as other embarrassing, unprincesslike scenarios.
But fight?
“What?” Her voice came out curt.
Kerric enjoyed her reaction, even chuckling. “I can tell you weren't expecting that part. Let's put it like this. Did you know we 'monsters' have our own version of Questing as well? You humans Quest for glory, fame, princesses and sometimes just trying to better yourselves. We do the same. There's a Quest that's been around in the Wilderness for a long time. It’s a challenging, some might even say impossible one. And I think you're what I've been looking for.”
Despite herself, at the mention of a Quest, and more importantly, one that a princess might be able to do, Ruelle found herself intrigued.
“It's not a Quest that requires a virgin sacrifice into a volcano, is it? I've heard about those.”
“Oh, no. There are no sacrifices. Unless you call sacrificing your time such a thing. But first, before I go into detail, you will take this.” He handed her a glass of clear water. “Drink.”
“Why?” Ruelle became instantly suspicious. “What’s in it?”
“Because if you don't, I'll tip it down your throat myself. And never you mind what’s in it.” His voice brooked no opposition. If she refused, he had the strength to administer it. Reluctant, convinced it had some kind of incurable poison in it, Ruelle held the glass in her hand for a moment before downing it. As she did, his smile grew wider, along with a brief flicker of relief.
Ruelle wiped her mouth, repeating, “What was in it?”
“A binding enchantment. If you attempt to harm me in any way, or escape from me, you'll be turned into a poison dart frog. I hear they're not so popular for being kissed by princes.”
“You bastard,” Ruelle hissed. “You wouldn't do that! What if I got lost by accident?”
Kerric puckered up his lips. “I'm immune to all poisons. I'll gladly kiss you back to humanity. There's no known antidote for this one either. So, thank you for taking the potion, princess.”
Ruelle fell into a black silence at that announcement, furious at being forced to drink it, to be bound to a bastard of a dragon. He gave her time out, letting her storm into a small room with a single bed, concealed in the back of the cave.
It took Ruelle a few hours before she wanted to even attempt to let him talk to her again. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to do in the cave itself. No way to entertain herself. Nothing to stimulate her mind. Skies, did this dragon have no concept of suitable living? The cave appeared as black as his soul.
When she did approach him again, he smiled triumphantly, making her want to disappear again.
“Good choice. I'll put you through training for a month, and after a few attempts to defeat Questers, which you will help with, by the way – or if I'm defeated, you'll automatically die – we'll go ahead and start the Trial of Lovers.”
Stabs of irritation throbbed through her blood, as she realized the predicament she was in.
You will be taken by darkness and never return to your kingdom again. The curse rested on her soul, infecting every thought. What did you do when the truth slapped you in the face? Burned in your blood? If she allowed a Quester to take her, she’d be dead.
Did that stupid curse mean the Dark Clans, or a black dragon? Or both?
“What if I'm willing to die, just to stop you controlling me like a puppet?”
“Your choice,” Kerric said, nonplussed. “But I think you should wait to hear what the Trial of Lovers is about, first. It might perk up your interest.”
“You're a Dark Clan dragon. You capture women. You sell them. Why do you even care about some stupid trial?”
“It's not exactly my day job, princess. It's just something I do every now and then for the slavers – I act as a bodyguard. They're near my doorstep, so you learn to make nice with the neighbors, or risk Dark Clan monsters testing your defenses and ransacking your home. My defenses are good, though I’d rather not have to deal with a pile of bodies every day.”
“Maybe that's what you deserve,” Ruelle spat, her blue eyes blazing. Her chest rose up and down from unbridled fury, from the careless way he treated her. She wasn't a person to him. Just a means to an end.
“I'll have to pay the hobgoblin in time, of course. But it'll work out for the best. Have you ever heard about the Trial of Lovers?”
Ruelle shrugged, face like thunder. “No. Why would I? I come from a central kingdom. I don't know anything about your Wilderness locations.”
He shrugged acceptance of her words. “It's a very old trial. You need a male and female to start it. It's a dungeon of sorts, and at the end, there's supposedly a legendary artefact. One that has the power to change a lot of things. Its creator thought it might be amusing to make it near impossible to obtain – especially since most women are not trained in combat. The closest I've heard of anyone succeeding in it have been female mages and witches, with male monsters. For obvious reasons. But maybe your combat prowess will be enough.”
“Yeah…” Ruelle rubbed at her face. “You’re saying you just scooped me up so I can fight for you?”
“Of course.”
She let out a sigh. “Do I have to be with you forever?”
“Depends. I know someone good at figuring out antidotes. If things work out.”
Ruelle frowned. She pursed her lips, focusing on what irritated her, more than the fact she’d swallowed a potion which kept her a prisoner without need for a cage. “If I’m going to be living with you, you’re going to tidy this place the fuck up. It’s hideous.”
Now it was Kerric’s turn to look baffled. He examined his cave dubiously. “I don’t think it looks that bad.”
“Are you kidding? There’s no good furniture!” She patted the ratty brown sofa. “This thing looks like it was brought like three millenniums ago. You have no decorations at all. And your treasury room is too small. Aren’t you afraid of being robbed?”
“Princess, I have enough of a security system in my cave. No one can rob me.”
“That’s what they all say. My kingdom thought that they were pretty unrobbable, too. Right until the Dark Clan snatched me from the walls of my own castle. So forgive me if I’
m a little sceptical of claims like that.”
“Fair point.” Kerric scowled for a moment at the bare furnishing of his tiny cave.
“You need to move the cave,” Ruelle said. “Or get one bigger on the inside enchantment for that treasury.”
“I already have that enchantment,” he said, making Ruelle’s eyes pop in surprise.
She raised up a finger. “Now this, I have to see.” Animosity temporarily forgotten, she stepped towards the treasure room, and saw a huge expanse full of glittering treasure, artefacts and gold lined furniture.”
“Kerric. You even have furniture here. Why the blasts aren’t you using it?”
He gave a sheepish, endearing smile. “I don’t check my treasure often…”
“Fuck that.” She snapped her fingers imperiously, and he came to peer over her shoulder into the vast room beyond. “We’re going to do some home decorating. I refuse to live in this place until you’ve made it look like a home.”
“Surely that can wait, princess?”
“Nope.”
She dragged Kerric into the room behind her, and he didn’t resist, half amused, half bewildered.
Good, she thought. Doing something like this gave her some measure of control in a situation where she felt she held none. If she couldn’t overpower him, if she couldn’t escape, then she’d damn well make him decorate.
I’m going to have to learn to get on with him as well. Ugh.
She examined his broad back for a moment, contemplating. If she was slightly less pissed off with him, she’d find his eyes rather dreamy, honestly. And maybe the rest of his body. He had decent, prominent musculature. He also possessed a way of filling up the room with his presence, arresting her focus with a gaze.
However, Ruelle had learned to deal with threats her entire life. Whatever threat she felt from him, she could resist.
I can handle this.
Chapter Three
Rapidly, the cave transformed under Ruelle’s constant dragooning. Kerric held a lot of odd materials in his expansive treasure lair, including a magical wardrobe which Ruelle took full use of, a mirror of beauty, a dressing table, better furniture, and a bed of Sweet Silk Sleep. (She hated saying that out loud.) She also hung up tapestries of ancient battles and monsters along the cave walls, placed a velvet royal rug and several sheepskin ones along the floor – and finished off decorations with a classic Tub of Plenty for quality bathtime.
