Heart of Dragons

by Meg Cowley

  Toroth’s face was carved in stone, a stern, uncompromising harshness in his expression that made her even more anxious. Trailing Dimitrius, she forced herself to take one step after another and bowed as he did before the king, a respectful distance away.

  The king’s booming voice rang out, echoing around the empty hall and up into the lofty heights where no light pierced the shadows of the vaulted ceiling. Silent, unmoving guards, who could very well have been empty suits of armour for all she knew, were just as imposing as their master. Harper’s gaze nervously flicked around them all. Unconsciously, she shrank toward Dimitrius, the only semblance of an ally she had.

  Toroth spoke in Pelenori, but Harper heard the cutting disdain in his tone and saw Dimitrius’s tall posture wilt slightly at the king’s words. She mentally rehearsed what Dimitrius had instructed her to say.

  “What say you, girl?” the king’s voice cut through her focus and she startled, covering it with a deep bow to the king and remaining there, her eyes upon the floor, as Dimitrius had told her to. “What account can you give of this? Am I to believe what he says?”

  “Your Majesty,” Harper said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. “I am not worthy to address you.”

  Toroth clenched his jaw. “And yet I order it of you.”

  Harper bowed lower. “I was instructed by Lord Ellarian to infiltrate the company of Aedon, formerly of House Felrian, on grounds that he was suspected to have had involvement in the theft of an item of your esteemed property.”

  “Good, good,” Dimitrius’s soothing voice murmured into her mind. “Keep going.”

  “I found that to be true, but not possessing the magical or physical strength to take it by force, I had to try a different tactic and ingratiate myself with them until such time as their trust in me allowed me to take the stone from them.”

  Toroth’s eyes narrowed, but he spoke in the Common Tongue so Harper could understand. “You do realise, girl, I have an entire army at my disposal. Why did you not report it to me at once?” He looked at Dimitrius. “Raedon and his Wings have been working pointlessly on this. You ought to have informed me at once, so I could have tasked them with more important matters.”

  “Forgive me, sire. Aedon has ever been a slippery target, as you well know, and I did not want to give him any reason to spook.”

  “So you did know. Are you certain it was not your ego that came between you and your task?” Toroth growled.

  “Absolutely not, sire. We gained valuable information into the workings of Aedon, his crew, and their machinations.”

  Toroth snorted. “And you invite this...peasant into your very chambers? Do you dally with all your spy scum?”

  Harper stiffened at the insinuation, but Dimitri remained confident. He flicked his gaze at her and gave her a sideways smile that sent a shiver down her back. “I do whatever it takes to obtain the information you desire, sire.”

  “What is this valuable information you obtained?”

  “Aedon and his outlaws currently flee the wood elves of Tir-na-Alathea.”

  Toroth’s attention sharpened at that. “Those jumped-up feys? Ha!” he barked. “I welcome them to him – to each other. I am still not satisfied that you did not procure it sooner.”

  Harper felt the rumble of his anger reverberating through her, but it was directed at Dimitrius, who faced it unflinchingly. She dared a glance at him, but his shadowed face was impassive.

  Toroth rose from his throne. Around them, the clang of armour sounded. The guards, readying themselves to jump to their king’s command.

  “You think yourself better than us all, don’t you, little bastard?” he said in a dangerously quiet, even voice. The spark in his eyes invited Dimitrius to rise to the challenge, even relished it, but he did not.

  Toroth’s eyes flicked to hers. She immediately dropped her gaze to the floor, holding herself with rigid determination, even though she trembled at his approaching power, which she felt in her very bones, like an ache of dull pain and pressure.

  “Not at all, sire,” Dimitrius replied in an even voice. “Bow,” he said into Harper’s mind. They sank low before the king. “I live to serve your wishes, sire. This mission was of the utmost importance, and I did not wish to leave it to chan—”

  “Silence!” snapped the king, then added more in Pelenori that Harper did not understand. She felt Dimitrius stiffen beside her – both of them still locked in a bow – and saw his jaw clench and the flash of his gritted teeth.

  Dimitrius replied to the king, who prowled around the pair of them. Harper’s heart thundered louder than she thought possible, until all she could hear was the blood rushing through her own ears, all she could feel was the swooping sickness and trembling of aching limbs.

  At last, the king stopped. “Get out, bastard, and take your alley scum with you.”

  Harper struggled to hold in a sudden rush of tears as they left the room. How different he had been than the noble monarch she had pictured. A much older, more serious, benevolent version of Aedon, she now realised. It was not so. Toroth was hard-hearted and rotten to the core. He would not send her home, and she could not begin to unravel what that meant for her prospects.

  It was clear that she did not belong there. The court was a strange machination to her with its own set of rules and goals she could not fathom. For the first time, she felt as insignificant as one snowflake amidst a blizzard.

  “VILE DRAGON TURD.” Dimitri added a curse in Pelenori that Harper did not understand. “He did that on purpose. Held audience with us in the formal throne room to intimidate you.” He scowled, and his balled fists shook by his side as he strode so quickly that Harper had to jog to keep up.

  When they had escaped the reach of the king, Dimitrius halted. His gaze searched her face, filled with a worry that startled her. “Are you all right?”

  “I–I’m fine.”

  Dimitrius swallowed. “Good.” It was a reminder to them both that he ought not be kind to her. Anything I show kindness to is destroyed. I cannot risk her, above all others, for she could destroy me, too.

  “Are... Are you?” she asked haltingly.

  Dimitrius closed his eyes and turned away. Fool of a girl. Guard yourself better. “I’m fine,” he said with a hint of a snap that he immediately regretted. She does not belong in this damned court.

  Once in the safety of his own chambers, he relaxed. Harper stood awkwardly by the door, so he gestured to the sumptuous armchairs before the hearth. “Sit. I apologise. The court is an...intimidating place to you, I imagine.”

  Harper nodded.

  “It’s not easy to be here and not understand it. I’ll grant you that. You did well. I understand what it is like to stand before him for the first time.”

  “You understand how I feel?”

  “Well, of a sort. I imagine Toroth made his feelings toward me clear, no matter what tongue he spoke in.” Dimitrius scowled. He glanced to the shuttered windows, but no light yet slipped through the edges.

  “Come. To bed with us both.” He ran a hand across his face, wishing he could erase the creeping tiredness that had plagued him for weeks. “I fear the ordeal is not yet over, and we had best be fresh when next the king sends for us.”

  HARPER PADDED OBEDIENTLY to her room, but Dimitri made no move, staring into the flickering flames that danced across the logs, hungry for their fuel, like he was hungry for change. Any other lord would have been indignant with rage at such treatment – whether from the king or not – but Dimitri was immune to it now. Each insult rolled off his back like water from a duck’s. It was not the words that concerned him.

  There would be no way to obtain the Dragonheart. Not now it is in the king’s possession. He closed his eyes, as if he could banish the thought of failure and hopelessness.

  Dragon turd, he cursed. It is the only way to save myself and erase this madness from the kingdom. A part of him was still in the throne room at another time and place, flinching as the king’s spittle
landed upon his face, enduring Toroth’s tirade with a stony face. Times do not change, no matter how much they need to. I must find a way.

  But no matter how much he thought, he could not find one. He was in over his head, too closely associated with the stone, and through Harper, there was the possibility of somebody finding out he took it in the first place, if anyone dared to dive into her mind, steal the truth of their encounters, and calculate from there. He had no doubt Toroth would, given the opportunity, for they were all bound to serve him. Dimitri only wondered how soon he, and Harper, would be summoned once more.

  Only the king’s trust in his own authority protected the both of them thus far.

  Get rid of her, his mind goaded him. She is the weak link.

  He shook his head, as if he could deny his own mind. I cannot kill her.

  You’ve done it before...

  I will not kill her. It is not my nature.

  There had to be another way. Mayhap he could return her to the company of Aedon, or perhaps even her homeland, where the king would never find her. Though both suggestions were a wild, overly optimistic hope.

  OVER BREAKFAST THE next morning, Dimitri pried for more information. Judging from the shadows under her eyes, Harper looked to have slept as little as he after their audience with the king.

  “What made you stay with Aedon and his merry band of criminals?” he enquired in a light voice. “We never did finish our chat yesterday about your adventures.”

  Harper glared at him, full of suspicion.

  Dimitri laughed. “Do not worry. I don’t expect you to share any valuable secrets.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Harper chewing on her lip, she spoke. “Well, they were kind to me, for a start, and I didn’t have anywhere else to turn. What else could I do?”

  “You seemed clear that you wanted to see Toroth, to petition him to return you to your homelands. Did they escort you here?” A part of him still hoped they lingered. Their capture would be a sweet present to the king to curry his favour and perhaps buy himself more time.

  Harper winced. “Not exactly. We had a...disagreement. Their goals and mine did...not align, shall we say.”

  “Oh?” Dimitri raised an eyebrow, but did not say more. Neither did Harper. He suppressed a smile. Oh, she’s determined not to incriminate them. How does Aedon do it? he wondered with a flicker of resentment for the easy grace with which the disgraced elf always managed to charm everyone. It was no wonder he had eluded capture for so long.

  “Come now. If that’s the case, they cannot be as friendly as you seem to think. You’ve seen what they abandoned you to.”

  “They didn’t abandon me,” Harper said stubbornly.

  “Oh?” Dimitri spread his hands wide. “Forgive me. I don’t see them coming to save you.”

  Harper’s shoulders crumpled at that. Dimitri regretted being so callous, but he capitalised upon it anyway. “Where are they journeying to?”

  “I don’t know. But they’re not as bad as they seem.”

  “Hmm...” Silly girl.

  “They’re trying to help some villagers cure a sickness that seems to be spreading, almost like a plague.”

  Dimitri stiffened and leaned forward. “A what? Where? When?” He gripped the table, his knuckles white.

  “I–I don’t know. I don’t know Pelenor.”

  With a giant whoosh of breath, Dimitri sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers upon the table. “You’re sure it was a plague-like sickness?”

  “That’s what they said, and what we saw. Why?”

  “Because the king knows nothing of it. Or, if he does, he’s said nothing, which I would not put past him,” Dimitri growled. “Either way, this is grave news.” He sighed. “Come. Eat your breakfast. I fear today will be a long day.”

  Harper ate obediently, though it did not take much persuading. He had not failed to notice how thin she was, as if she had never had a full belly. Dimitri pursed his lips and dropped his gaze to his own plate.

  It was the same wherever he went. No matter whose kingdom, poverty and inconceivable wealth existed side by side. He fleetingly wondered if the rulers in her homeland were as cruel as the king. If he could somehow send her back, what kind of life would she be returning to? She had said precious little about it, but that spoke volumes in itself.

  Her home has nothing for her. The whole world is probably as rotten as this once fair corner.

  It was another reason not to pursue sending her home by whatever means he could. It was an excuse he could focus on, rather than think about why he really wanted to keep her under his watch. At her heated request, he had returned the charm bracelet to her, but with a heavy sense of foreboding...and a warning to her to always keep it hidden.

  It has to be connected, his mind taunted him. The stone, the charm, the girl, Saradon...

  The request to join the king’s presence arrived sooner than he liked, just as they finished eating.

  “Come,” Dimitri said, grim-faced. “The king requests your presence ‘to reward you for your services’.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Harper asked, her eyes wide “Perhaps he could return me to Caledan.”

  “I would not raise your hopes. Harper, you saw his true spirit last night. Do you think he will be so benevolent?”

  She did not answer.

  “Do not ask it of him,” he warned.

  At Dimitri’s request, Emyria fussed over Harper, making sure every inch of her was impeccably presented in the squire’s clothing. As a last thought, he stopped her before they left.

  “Wait. I have something for you. A peace offering, if you will.”

  She frowned, but watched as Emyria handed a wrapped object to him. He held it out to Harper.

  “Here.”

  She unwrapped it to discover a familiar dagger. The one Aedon had given her. Her hands closed tightly around it. “Thank you.”

  He nodded stiffly.

  “Why?”

  “Because today will not be easy. Consider it a talisman of courage.”

  A TALISMAN OF COURAGE, she thought, squeezing the reassuring weight of the dagger. Harper swallowed. She might need to be stronger than she hoped. It pained her to think of her companions, wherever they were.

  Former companions, she reminded herself.

  With a deep breath, Harper tried to fill herself with Brand’s immovable strength, Ragnar’s steady faith, and Erika’s unflinching boldness. Last of all, she turned to Aedon’s optimism.

  I can get through this.

  “Are you ready?” Dimitrius asked.

  She opened her eyes with a start, not realising she had closed them. “Yes.”

  She belted the dagger around her hips, where it proudly bounced off the fine fabrics as she strode beside Dimitrius with more courage than she felt. If nothing else, it would be a scrap of the familiar in a world where she knew nothing.

  Forty-Eight

  Aedon’s heart thundered with the thrill of evasion as he vaulted from Brand’s back. The shadow of the giant wings over him vanished as the Aerian soared away, Erika still within his arms for her own mission. Aedon landed upon the battlements with a soft thud, cushioning the impact with his knees.

  He pressed himself down to the ground and into the shadows, stilling his entire body so he could survey his surroundings. Tournai at night. The city never slumbered. It thrummed with life, though a different tune to its daytime cacophony.

  Seeing a fleeting gap between the patrolling guards, Aedon flowed from shadow to shadow. With a running leap, he vaulted from the wall onto the thatched roof of a nearby building. Before he could be spotted, he slid down the rough thatch, stopping just before the edge – and the perilous drop to the cobbled street below.

  Checking his handholds before he committed, he swung from the roof onto a shuttered window sill below, and from there – after confirming he had escaped notice so far – used his momentum to grasp a hanging sign closer to the ground, swung once, and jumped, aligh
ting on the ground with a wet slap.

  Aedon groaned. “Of course I’ve landed in a pile of—”

  “Oy! What’re you doing here? There’s a curfew in this quarter, boy. Stop!”

  There was no time to shake the excrement from his boots. Aedon launched into a sprint as the two watchers gave chase. Down streets and up alleys he ran, but they were better than him in this regard. They knew the city far better than he.

  When he heard the two of them separate, he swore under his breath. It was a predictable move. They were going to cut him off. He turned a corner, slipped into a shadowed doorway, and made himself one with the night, at the same time sending a shadowy phantom of himself running up the street.

  The watcher thundered past him, each loud step matching the drum of his own heart. As soon as he passed, Aedon peeked from the shadows. The man was already halfway up the street after Aedon’s spectre.

  Aedon grinned, slipped from his concealment, and ran the other way.

  It was easier to lose himself in the inner city where the curfew was much later. The taverns were full, the brothels were fuller, and the streets thrummed with throngs of people still going about their business. Markets hawked their last wares of the day. Traders came and went. Aedon slipped between them all, his cloak wrapped around his body, his head shadowed by the generous hood.

  Though he was nowhere near safe, he relaxed slightly. This was where he belonged, on the edge of the thrill, where he felt most alive. He wended his way up to the higher city, leaving the bright lights behind as he ascended into the quieter, affluent quarters of Tournai. Now his smile faded, his gaze roving this way and that, and his senses rolled out as far as he could send them.

  Once more, he skulked from shadow to shadow, following the dagger’s pull from underneath his cloak.

  This way. This way, it called to him. Faster. She’s here.