The Dragon Mistress: Book 1 (The Eburosi Chronicles 8)

by R. A. Steffan

  I turned around, and could have sworn I saw Aristede staring at my slightly squished cleavage before he dragged his eyes back to my face and pasted on a pleasant expression.

  “We should leave,” Rayth said. “An extra rider will slow us down, and we’ve lingered here long enough as it is.”

  Oh? Sorry I messed up your carefully laid itinerary, Sunshine, I thought, though fortunately I had regained enough presence of mind by that point not to say it aloud.

  “I’m game,” I said aloud. “How do you want to do this?”

  Rayth gave the group a quick once-over. “Ride with Aristede. His horse can carry two. If the mare starts to flag, I’ll take you for a bit.”

  Ride with Rayth? Be still my heart. Hopefully, Aristede’s mare wouldn’t flag. I resolved to think light and airy thoughts.

  “Fine by me,” I told him. “Aristede?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” he assured me. He returned the half-empty waterskin he’d offered me to its place at the front of his saddle and offered Gladya a bent knee to use as a mounting aid. She climbed delicately onto the little gray horse and flashed me an encouraging smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw Eldris mount his sturdy chestnut gelding.

  Aristede gestured at his rather magnificent bay mare, offering me a leg up. I waved him off.

  “You first,” I said. “If you’ll lend me an arm, I can swing up behind you.”

  He shrugged agreement and lifted himself smoothly into the saddle. Leaning down a bit, he proffered a bent elbow. I grasped it, taking two quick steps and forcing overtaxed muscles to spring, pivoting my body around the fulcrum of his strong arm to swing my leg up and over. He lifted at the same time I jumped, and I settled into place behind him with only a bit of shifting and scooting to center myself.

  “Impressive,” he said, sounding amused. “Do all northern barbarians learn how to leap onto horses’ backs like that as a matter of course?”

  I snorted and wrapped an arm around his stomach, not above taking a moment to appreciate the firm body in front of me. He’d made vaulting up here easy, using exactly the right timing and amount of force to help me.

  “Only the ones who were raised by a village Horse Mistress, I’m afraid. Honestly, in most clans on Eburos, women don’t ride or work much with animals. It’s, um, kind of a cultural thing.”

  A stupid cultural thing, I didn’t add.

  “Oh, I’d hate to be reliant on wagons or riding with a man to get from place to place,” Gladya said. “Good for you and your Horse Mistress for ignoring such a silly rule!”

  I nodded. “I was relieved when I got to Adumine, and found that no one blinked an eye at selling me a horse.” The reminder of Laduna, my little chestnut mare, brought the simmering anger in my gut back to a boil. “I still can’t believe those no good bastards stole her. I swear to the gods, I’m going to track them down and make them pay. I’ll get that mare back if it’s the last thing I do.”

  I realized that I was squeezing Aristede a little tighter than was probably polite, though he’d uttered no complaint. I eased off, feeling a bit sheepish.

  “And how, exactly, do you propose to undertake your righteous crusade?” Rayth said with the air of dismissiveness that I was already coming to loathe. “The bandits have a significant head start on us, and will have sold your horse and belongings before we ever reach Safaad. Once they do, they’ll be gone like smoke on the wind.”

  Damn him—it’s not like I’d asked anyone to bring logic into the discussion.

  “I’ll figure something out,” I said, biting off the words.

  “What in the name of sanity were you doing traveling from Adumine to Safaad alone in the first place?” Rayth asked, and he didn’t have to finish with the words you idiot woman for me to hear them loud and clear.

  “I wasn’t traveling alone,” I snapped. “The caravan I was supposed to travel with canceled at the last moment. The ship carrying the goods they’d planned to transport sank off the coast. I eventually found a man and a woman who were heading this way and who agreed to take me.” My lips twisted. “Unfortunately, they apparently make their living by leading unsuspecting travelers right into bandits’ hands in exchange for a cut of the spoils.”

  Aristede grunted in distaste. “That’s unfortunate. Do you remember anything distinguishing about the bandits?” he asked, rather more practically.

  I silently thanked him for moving the conversation away from my humiliating exercise in poor judgment. “I could describe the couple I was riding with in detail. The man went by the name Omerah, and the woman was called Midhan.” I went on to describe the four men who had set upon me as best I could.

  Eldris grunted. “Nothing out of the ordinary in any of that, sad to say.”

  “And both Omerah and Midhan are fairly common names near the coast,” Gladya added. “What about their horses?”

  “Also common,” I said. “No unusual markings, and not highly bred or particularly well cared for. Their tack was old and not very good quality.” I flashed back to Grabby Hands charging at me on his plain chestnut gelding after I’d skewered his leg. “One of them did have an odd marking embroidered on the corner of his saddle cloth. It was faded, but it looked like a triangle with a line extending out from each of the three corners, and the lines ended in identical spirals. It was done in dark thread, and the saddle cloth was light-colored.”

  Rayth reined in his dun stallion and turned to look at me, brown eyes intent. “A triskelion?” he asked.

  “If a triskelion is three spiral lines meeting to form a triangle at the center, then… yes?” I said.

  “That mean something to you?” Eldris prodded, his attention focused on Rayth.

  Rayth urged his horse into motion again, his face closing off. “It’s the mark of Prince Oblisii. His personal crest.”

  Gladya made a noise of surprise. “Are you saying that one of these bandits worked for the prince?” she asked, sounding scandalized. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Much more likely that the bandit stole a saddlecloth from someone under the prince’s employ,” Aristede said mildly. “Possibly also the horse it was attached to.”

  I looked back and forth between them. “Right. So, who’s this Prince Oblisii, exactly?” I asked.

  Chapter 2: When in Utrea

  RAYTH MUTTERED SOMETHING I couldn’t make out. It didn’t sound flattering.

  Gladya trotted up to ride even with Aristede’s horse. “He’s the crown prince of Utrea, of course! King Khalafu’s son. He wouldn’t have anything to do with common bandits, I’m certain.”

  I thought about that for a bit.

  “Even so,” I said, “it seems like he’d want to know if someone wearing his crest was out attacking travelers in the desert. And he’d also want to know if his own men were being waylaid and their belongings stolen by bandits. I could petition the king…”

  Rayth gave a quiet snort. I met his gaze with a hard look and raised an eyebrow at him.

  “What?” I snapped. “You haven’t exactly met me at my best, it’s true—but I do happen to be the adopted daughter of one of the most powerful leaders on Eburos. Well… two of the most powerful leaders, I suppose. Have you heard of Senovo, the Wolf Priest of Draebard?”

  “No,” Rayth said. Gladya and Eldris echoed him with apologetic shrugs.

  Aristede craned around to look at me over his shoulder, though. “The one who’s supposed to be a shape-shifter?” he asked. “And who was mixed up in that Alyrion incursion back when I was a lad?” He made a considering noise. “I always assumed that story was just an embellishment to make the Alyrion defeat sound a bit less humiliating than it actually was.”

  I looked at Aristede’s sharply sculpted features in a new light. It was all too easy to be drawn by his striking long hair with that odd white streak sweeping back from his forehead, and not notice the rest. But that patrician nose… those high cheekbones…

  “Wait. Are you Alyrion?” I asked, feeling an odd twi
st of my stomach at the idea I might be riding with one of my people’s longtime enemies.

  I felt the muscles in his back stiffen for a moment before he seemed to consciously relax them.

  “Me? I’m nobody in particular,” he said in an easy, self-deprecating tone. “Though it is true I’m a nobody who was born on the western peninsula of Alyrios. I haven’t lived there in many years. But do go on. You were speaking of your wolf priest?”

  I took a breath and let it go. This was Utrea, not Alyrios. And, besides, while the Alyrions were responsible—indirectly, at least—for the death of my father and many other people I’d known as a girl, they’d maintained an uneasy peace with Eburos for more than a decade now. And the man seated in front of me was too young to have ever personally done anything to my home or loved ones.

  “Senovo isn’t a legend,” I said, returning to the topic at hand. “He raised my brother and me after our parents died. So did the Draebardi chieftain who organized the defense against the Alyrion invasion.”

  “And your Horse Mistress, as well?” Gladya asked, looking at me curiously. “You were raised by three people?”

  “Yes,” I said, realizing I sounded a bit combative. I shook my head. “Look, it’s kind of a long story. Suffice to say, I’ve got enough family connections to support a petition to the king, or at least to the prince. If nothing else, maybe I can get the authorities to go after these bandits, even if I can’t track them down myself.”

  “Well,” Gladya offered, “if there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll be happy to. I’m traveling to Safaad to meet my fiancé so we can finally get married. He’s a distant nephew of the king’s. I can ask him to put in a word for you, if you’d like.”

  I smiled at her, my earlier irritation fading. “Honestly, Gladya, I don’t feel right asking you for anything else. You and your… uh—” I paused, not entirely what her connection was with the three men.

  “Hired guards,” Aristede supplied, sounding faintly amused.

  “You and your guards have already done more than I can possibly repay,” I finished.

  Though I couldn’t help being a bit jealous of Gladya’s luck with choosing traveling companions compared to my own. Not only were the trio not backstabbing thieves—they were also quite a bit prettier to look at than either Omerah or Midhan had been.

  And Rayth probably couldn’t help being an aggravating sod. Maybe he’d had an unhappy upbringing or something, I thought charitably.

  “Oh, come now,” Gladya said, her full lips curving upwards, “we were hardly going to leave you lying insensible by the side of the road, now were we?”

  “Believe me—my poor, sunburned breasts are eternally thankful for that fact,” I told her, and felt Aristede’s body move in silent laughter under my loose grip.

  I relaxed against him, letting the mare’s rolling gait lull my exhausted body as her hooves ate up the dusty road beneath us.

  * * *

  We rode until nearly dusk, when the path dipped into a valley dotted with the first plant life I’d seen since leaving Adumine and entering the uplands. I roused myself enough to look around.

  “Is this the river Omerah talked about?” I asked, trying to peer into the lengthening shadows ahead of us.

  Eldris snorted. “River? That’s being generous.”

  The horses perked up, sniffing the air and increasing their pace without being urged. I tightened my grip on Aristede as his mare leapt into an easy canter, and he put a hand over my forearm to steady me.

  “Snow melt from the mountains turns it into a reasonable watercourse during the spring,” he said. “But I’m afraid at this time of year it’s more of a runnel, when it’s not completely dry. Still, the horses’ reaction proves there’s still water to be had for them.”

  My brief fantasy of a proper wash faded away as the animals descended the sandy bank, revealing darker earth at the bottom, broken only by the occasional puddle. Nonetheless, the horses enthusiastically waded into the shallow mud and started pawing at whatever tiny pool was nearest, widening and deepening the holes to reveal more muddy water as it seeped in. They drank thirstily, apparently unconcerned by its unappealing brown color.

  “I suppose beggars can’t be choosers,” I offered. “I never really appreciated the importance of easy access to water before this.”

  “That’s why the only people who live in the desert are nomads,” Aristede said. “It’s not so bad in the spring. Then, when it dries up, they simply pack their things and drive their goats elsewhere.”

  “I suppose that’s why it was so hard to find people to travel with?” I asked. “Because it’s summer?”

  “Yeah, I expect so,” said Eldris. “There’s still a few caravans that run between the coast and the capital in late summer, but there are a lot more in the spring and early summer.”

  “It’s also why I had to pay these three so much to come out and escort me to Safaad,” Gladya said impishly.

  Aristede lifted a hand to his chest as if she’d struck him with an arrow through the heart. “Ah, you wound us with your words, Lady Gladya. With such fair company, this has surely been the most enjoyable coin we’ve ever earned.”

  I had already mentally labeled Aristede as a dangerous, silver-tongued temptation, and one to which I would have happily have succumbed in other circumstances. But I was still bruised, sunburned, exhausted, and achy. Plus, I’d be camping in the open with other people tonight. Far better to enjoy that silver tongue in its linguistic capacity, and leave the rest alone. Not, I reflected, that he’d actually offered—or even implied—anything more. Though I judged it a remote chance, there was always the possibility that he was all talk and nothing else.

  Besides, the look-but-don’t-touch plan had the additional bonus of allowing me to covertly enjoy Eldris’ unusual good looks as well. Hell, even Rayth was startlingly easy on the eyes as long as he kept his mouth shut. And, unlike Aristede, neither of those two struck me as the type to tumble strangers into bed on any kind of a regular basis. Certainly not Rayth, whose entire demeanor practically screamed keep away, don’t touch.

  Not that I had any interest in touching the irritating prick. Obviously.

  Once the horses had refreshed themselves, the three men efficiently made camp. Gladya seemed content to leave them to it, and since she was paying, that seemed fair enough to me. I offered, but Eldris scowled and waved me off. Since I already had enough battles waiting to be fought, I shrugged easy agreement and flopped down next to the other woman.

  “So. Tell me more about this man of yours,” I said, eager to learn more about my rescuers. “Have you known him long?”

  Gladya laughed, a clear and joyful sound. “Yes and no. We’ve only met three times, but we’ve been betrothed since he was ten and I was seven.”

  I blinked. “Hang on. You’re marrying someone you’ve only met three times?”

  Gladya looked at me curiously. “Well… yes. It’s an exceptionally good match. I did mention that he’s related to the royal house, didn’t I? Of course, the part I didn’t mention is that my family are merchants. Arranging the pairing was something of a coup for my mother. Darian’s family gets a generous dowry, mine gets a guaranteed buyer for our spice trade, and I get a husband I’m honestly rather fond of. I’m even his first wife. Everybody wins.”

  I realized I was staring at her, and cleared my throat before blurting, “But you don’t even know him! What if he’s horrible?”

  Even as the words came out, it occurred to me that they might not have been terribly diplomatic. Gladya tilted her head like a bird, but fortunately didn’t appear offended.

  “He’s not horrible,” she said. “Why would you think so? My parents would hardly have matched me with a brute. My older brother served in the cavalry with him for two years, and they became quite close friends. I found him quite charming company on the occasions when our parents brought us together. That’s certainly basis enough for a good marriage.”

  I mulled over
her words this time before speaking. “I think,” I said slowly, “this might be another of those cultural things.”

  Her look of confusion cleared, and her mouth made an “Oh,” shape.

  The camp had taken shape around us as we spoke, and now Aristede sat down on the other side of the small fire Rayth had started with scrub wood.

  “Hmm… I take it barbarian marriage customs are different?” he asked, softening what might have been an insult with a wickedly teasing smile.

  “A bit, yeah,” I replied dryly. “We don’t have marriages, for one thing. We have handfastings. A priest binds the applicants’ hands for a day and a night, and afterwards your lives are bound together unless you agree to go back to a priest and have the bonding severed. And while I won’t deny that matchmaking is rampant among families within a village, handfastings generally end up being love matches.”

  Now I was on the receiving end of a shocked stare from Gladya. “Really? I… can’t even picture how that would work. I mean, what if you fell in love with someone totally unsuitable?”

  Aristede made a sound of amusement so faint I wasn’t sure I’d actually heard it. I stifled a laugh of my own, though probably for different reasons. My three guardians back home were the very definition of an unsuitable match.

  “If it comes down to it, you fight tooth and nail for love, unsuitable or not,” I said. True, that might not have been the Eburosi way, as such—but it was what my brother Favian and I had grown up with. It was our way. “And if the gods are kind, you live happily ever after.”

  Eldris had joined us, handing a knife hilt-first to Aristede and tossing him some vegetables for chopping.

  “Different customs, I guess,” I offered. “For what it’s worth, I can’t really wrap my head around your way, either.”

  Eldris lifted an eyebrow. “If it makes you feel better, you might as well both be speaking a foreign language as far as I’m concerned. The Kulawi don’t have marriage or handfasting or any of that shite. Two people wanna be together, they’re together. They wanna be with someone else, they go be with someone else. The elders only step in if someone’s sneaking around—not being honest and talking things out first. But as long as they are, who cares?”