Dragon's Vow

by J. D. Monroe

  On the fifth day after her noisy spat with Zayir, Ohrena finished carving the blade’s hilt. She was outside in her workshop, carefully pouring plaster into a wooden box to form a mold for the hilt. Feet scuffed from inside, but with a heavy basin of plaster pouring evenly into the box, she couldn’t break her attention. She had just set the basin down when she caught a hint of a familiar, earthy sage scent. And there was the metallic bite of blood just beneath it.

  The footsteps grew louder, and she turned to see the familiar face of Pamin, hurriedly wrapping a loose robe around herself. The blonde woman’s hair was disheveled, and her face was marred with deep purple bruises. Ohrena’s heart thudded. “Pamin?”

  “My lady,” she murmured. Her eyes flitted back and forth. A swollen welt on her cheekbone distended her eye. “I feared for your safety.”

  “What happened to you?” Ohrena said, grasping her shoulders. The petite woman trembled violently. “Your face.”

  Pamin clenched her jaw. “The prince,” she murmured. She glanced over her shoulder, as if to assure herself that he was not lurking nearby. “I tried to come back, just to ensure that you were safe.”

  “Pamin…”

  “I remained in my bird form. I was worried about you, and I just wanted to see you to make sure you were safe. But the prince and his brute caught me, and…” She gestured toward her battered face. “I escaped but I fear for your safety, my lady.”

  “They did this…” Ohrena said. Anger sparked in her chest, turning to sludge in her belly. She narrowed her eyes. “They will pay for this, sister.”

  “Don’t endanger yourself,” Pamin said. “I will send word to Val Legarra, but I don’t know if you’re safe here.”

  “I will deal with them,” Ohrena said. She ran her tongue over her canines. If he would allow this, then Zayir would learn of her true nature, just in time to draw his last, agonized breath. “Go, find somewhere safe.”

  Pamin nodded. “I will. Be safe, my princess.” She shrugged off the robe, and transformed rapidly into a tiny swallow, flitting into the dark evening sky. Ohrena scowled, then glanced back at the wooden case, now filled with damp plaster. It was tempting to throw the whole thing to the floor. To think she’d been trying to gain his approval, to smooth things over, when he would put his hands on Pamin.

  Her hand hesitated over the box. Her fingers were nicked here and there with scratches and one deep cut from a knife slipping. She had bled for this project, and it would be truly beautiful when it was done. Once she fitted the hilt to a blade, she might just christen it by burying it in his chest.

  She left the mold to cure and stormed back into her study. One of the Kadirai servants had delivered a plate of food and a pitcher of water. The glass she’d poured earlier was still there, since she’d been distracted just after pouring it. She took a long drink of it as she paced.

  How could Zayir do such a thing? She didn’t want to believe he was capable of being so cruel, but she’d known him only a few weeks. In that time, he’d worn a mask more often than his true face. She had no idea who he really was or what he was capable of.

  Halfway across the workshop, her throat began to burn. She frowned, coughing against the painful sensation. The burning sensation spread down her chest, then seized her belly. A fierce cramp seized her as she gasped for air. Breathing hard, she fumbled for the water and drank another gulp. The faintest hint of metal tickled at her tongue. With the horror of recognition, her eyes widened. Her legs wobbled as she bolted for the door.

  She stumbled into the hall, where Teviri jumped in surprise. “Su’ud redahn? Are you—”

  “Someone poisoned me,” she mumbled, her lips going thick. “I’m not…”

  The world faded and the last thing she felt was cold stone against her face.

  It had taken just two weeks of marriage for Zayir’s near-unshakeable confidence to crumble. He had always conducted himself under a simple guiding principle. Do what is best for my family. That was sometimes tempered by a need to preserve life, as in his insistence on keeping the peace with the Stoneflight. He knew that sending Ohrena’s attendants away was objectively correct. But the guilt over causing her such sorrow and loneliness had not waned with time, but instead had soaked into his mind, permeating every thought until he wondered if he was a truly awful person.

  Kaldir and his sister were not bothered, and in fact had commended him for dealing with the issue before it got out of hand. When he expressed his doubts to Tarim, she’d waved it off. “She’ll get over it,” she said blithely, as if she understood Ohrena’s plight while surrounded by a city of her own kind.

  Ohrena had kept to their schedule, joining him for breakfast and uncomfortable silence each morning, and equally stiff and painfully formal dinners each evening. She allowed him to take her hand upon leaving dinner, but otherwise avoided contact with him. Her detached silence was far worse than her anger. At least when she was shouting at him, he knew she felt something for him. Now the mischievous fire in her eyes was gone, and he wondered if their passionate interlude in the crystal caves was a dream from another life.

  Time would smooth things over. They were both long-lived creatures, and a week was but a blink of an eye. An interminably long, torturous blink of a sand-filled eye.

  Zayir had been in the council room for hours after another unsatisfying breakfast with Ohrena, listening to his sister’s advisors argue over the best course of action to handle the Thorn.

  “We must act with force,” Councilor Ferha said. “We have been diplomatic for too long.” Tarim nodded. His sister had a bloodthirsty streak that he usually countered, but for once, he was in agreement.

  “And where would you strike?” Kaldir asked dryly. “They are like rats that scurry out of the walls and disappear as soon as we turn our gaze on them. We’ve not been able to pinpoint their central camp, if they even have one.”

  “Can you follow them?” Tarim asked.

  Kaldir nodded. “We captured several in the tunnels. If we were to release them and track them…”

  “If they are even moderately clever, they would suspect such a thing,” Zayir said. “They’d likely lie low for a while.”

  “It’s worth a try, though,” Kaldir said. He glanced at Tarim, who nodded. “I’ll put someone on it. In the meantime, I’ve increased the Ironblade presence in the tunnels as well as to the easily accessed entry points. They shouldn’t surprise us again.”

  “Very well,” Ferha said. “If we may move on, we must discuss the concerns of the metalworkers’ guild. They have been quite patient, but I hear many concerns that our recent alliance with Firlanyn will affect pricing of raw materials. I spoke at length with Lord Darkblaze yesterday.”

  Kaldir silently nodded to the queen and rose from his seat, silently moving with his dark cloak flowing behind him. He made a small beckoning gesture to Zayir, who got up to follow. If precedent held true, Ferha would take five minutes of explanation before getting to his actual point. He could probably fly down to the city, meet with the head of the metalworkers’ guild, hammer out an agreement over a bottle of wine, and be back before Ferha was done.

  He followed Kaldir into the hall. His old friend stepped onto the closest balcony, where no servants lingered to listen. He spoke quietly. “My scouts returned to report that they had escorted two of the princess’s attendants as far as Silverbend, and that they requested to be allowed to travel the rest of the way themselves.”

  “Two of them?” Zayir said. “What about the third one?”

  Kaldir shook his head. “The blonde one, Pamin, never returned to the palace that night. I’ve had people watching for her.”

  He narrowed his eyes. Had Ohrena secretly kept one of them here? She favored tiny creatures that found their ways into hidden places. It wouldn’t be difficult to hide a little bird or mouse. She might well have been keeping Pamin in her room, for all he knew, considering she had kept her doors closed to him.

  “Let me know what you find,” Zayir sa
id.

  “Do you think her family will be an issue? Over sending them away?”

  Zayir shook his head. “If they have any sense, they will not. They would do the same to me if I had brought my own spies into their house. Were your men painfully and obnoxiously polite?”

  “They were,” Kaldir said. “I told them if there was so much as a cross word, I would break their knees and send vials of their tears to Val Legarra.”

  “That sounds about right,” Zayir said. “All right. Go on and have your fun patrolling the city while I attempt to stay awake.”

  “Yes, I feel so sorry for you,” Kaldir said. “It must be so painful to keep your ass on a cushioned seat while servants keep you fed.” He rolled his eyes, but his lips were pulled into a mischievous smile. They clasped arms and shared a brief embrace before parting. “Be well.”

  With that, Kaldir left him for far more exciting business, and Zayir returned to the meeting, where Ferha was still relating the sequence of exchanges he’d had with the metalworkers’ agents. He was finally getting to the point, that varastrin prices would be unfairly high, when the double doors swung open. Ohrena’s male guard, Ahbin, scurried into the room.

  Fear threaded through his gut as the man bowed and said. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, su’ud redahn. The princess is terribly ill. The prince’s presence is requested in the temple.”

  He shot a look at Tarim, who gestured toward the door. “Go, see to her, of course,” she said. “Send word as soon as possible.”

  Zayir’s heart raced as he followed the guard down the hall, then to the staircase where he took them two at a time. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “She was working in her shop and came stumbling out. Teviri said she was poisoned.”

  Dread gripped him. “Poisoned?”

  He hated himself for even considering it, but was it possible that Ohrena had staged something? Or worse, was this part of a plan to entrap him somehow? He shook his head. She was secretive, but she wasn’t that devious.

  He hoped.

  Ironhold boasted its own temple of the Brood, the priesthood devoted to the worship of the Skymother. The gifted Marashti healers were affiliated with the Brood, though they were a separate wing with their own rules and leadership. Here, the healers’ ward was connected to the temple, sharing living quarters and other common rooms.

  Entering the open archway of the temple, they hurried across a massive mosaic of azure glass intermingled with shards of crystal and silver, forming a stylized icon of the Skymother. They veered down one of the stone hallways, leading into the open, airy room where the healers worked. The sharp smell of medicinal herbs was thick in the air, along with fragrant incense smoke.

  Three sisters of the Brood, all identified by their pale blue garments, gathered around one of the low beds at the end of the room. One looked up and noticed him, then turned to the others to speak before she approached. “Prince Zayir, she is—”

  “Where is she?” he said, his voice louder and more heated than he’d realized. “Who did this?”

  “I’m here,” a familiar voice croaked. The blue-clad women parted to reveal Ohrena, sitting up in bed with her dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders. Strands of hair were plastered to her pallid face.

  Relief washed over him at the sight of her. He hurried to her side and knelt on the cold stone. “I came right away. What happened?”

  “I was poisoned,” she said, her usually light voice strained and rough. Her full lips were tinged with blue, and there were smudges of dark makeup around her eyes.

  “When? How bad was it?” he asked, turning from Ohrena to one of the healers.

  “Her current state wouldn’t indicate it, but it was quite bad,” the healer said, her tattooed brow furrowing in confusion. “I detected the poison but wasn’t sure what it was. Her body seemed to burn through it much faster than I would have expected.”

  “Stillbreath,” she murmured. “It’s an Edra concoction.”

  He frowned. “How did you know that?”

  “I smelled it,” she said. That was hardly an explanation for how she recognized a poison by smell. She frowned at him, her golden eyes accusing. “Did you hurt Pamin?”

  His jaw dropped. He’d come running down here, worried about her, and her first reaction was to lob accusations at him. “What? I certainly did not.”

  “She came to me with her face bloodied and bruised and said that you and Kaldir punished her for trying to speak to me.” Her eyes narrowed to slits.

  “Su’ud redahn, please don’t strain yourself,” the healer said. “You may have recovered quickly, but your body still needs to rest. My prince, we will be happy—”

  “No, let her finish,” Zayir said. The woman’s incredulous expression was a silent chastisement. Even for a prince, disagreeing with a Marashti healer was a tiny step away from defying the Skymother in some people’s opinions. But this was important enough to risk it. “Kaldir just told me that Inrada and Zahila were escorted safely to Silverbend.”

  “That proves nothing,” Ohrena said. “I haven’t seen Pamin in days, and now I know why.”

  “Then she lied to you.”

  “Or perhaps you’re lying to me.”

  His jaw dropped. “I have not been a perfect partner to you, but I have not lied to you a single time.”

  “Veia kalo no Edra metisar,” she said, dropping her voice in a mocking imitation of him.

  His hackles raised at the mockery, as if she hadn’t been spying right under his nose. “That wasn’t a lie, and it’s hardly the same thing,” he snapped. “Look at me. I didn’t hurt your friend, and I would swear upon my life that Kaldir didn’t either. I’ll get him down here now to prove it to you.” He glanced over his shoulder at Ahbin. “Find Dawnblaze now and bring him, so we may clarify this issue.”

  Nearly an hour passed before Kaldir arrived. Ohrena refused to speak to him, which only made him angrier with each passing second. After a few minutes of seething silently, he excused himself to sit out in the sanctuary of the temple so he wouldn’t open his mouth and say something to Ohrena that he would regret. He heard Kaldir’s brisk footsteps down the hall and intercepted him just before he got into the healers’ ward.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Ohrena was poisoned.”

  Kaldir’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about? How? Who did it?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m more interested in her story about her servant. She seems to think you and I beat her senseless for trying to check on her.”

  Kaldir’s eyes narrowed. He drew a deep breath and held it. “I will set your wife straight,” he said. He glared at Zayir. “I told you these Edra were trouble.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Zayir said. Kaldir stalked into the healer’s ward like he was looking for prey to devour. Ohrena saw him coming and surged to her feet. She was unsteady on her feet, but her gaze was every bit as angry as Kaldir’s despite being half his size.

  As she looked him over, her tongue darted over her teeth, as if she was testing their sharpness. “Did you hurt Pamin?” she spat.

  “I did no such thing,” he retorted. Zayir hurried after him, afraid they would end up in a scrap. But to his surprise, Kaldir knelt in front of her. “Su’ud redahn, I will gladly discuss the matter with you, but please sit. For your health.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him, but she slowly sank back to the cot. “Someone hurt her.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Kaldir said. “Nor was it any of my men. My people have been looking for her, but they are under strict orders to treat her with respect and escort her from the city.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Why should you believe her? When did you see her?” Kaldir asked.

  “Just before I…” Ohrena trailed off. Then her jaw dropped, and he could practically see the realization forming in her mind.

  Before she could speak again, Kaldir interjected.
“Do you know why it took so long for me to get here? I was suddenly swamped with messengers bringing word that the prince had murdered his wife right here in the palace.”

  Horror struck him like a fist into his ribs. “What?”

  Kaldir nodded grimly. “The rumors are flying already, and they all agree on a few things. It seems that the poor Edra princess stood up to her terrible, cruel husband, and they had a shouting match in the halls of the palace. A few days later, he grew tired of her defiance and poisoned her. To fuck his sister in peace, of course. Because what story would be complete without that salacious twist?”

  “You can’t be serious,” Zayir spluttered. “How would anyone even know we argued?”

  “Pamin,” Ohrena breathed. “She wasn’t there that night, but Inrada would have told her what happened. And she was in my workshop. I didn’t even think about it, but she was inside before she came to speak to me outside. She could have put something in the water. But I don’t understand why she would…she’s…”

  “Because she’s with the Thorn,” Zayir said.

  Ohrena’s eyes went wide. “That’s not possible. She’s served my house for years. Why would she want to kill me?” For once, he hated being right. The look of horror on Ohrena’s face was like getting punched in the gut. He had lost all desire to say I told you so.

  “I don’t think it’s about you,” Kaldir said. His voice had smoothed out, losing its angry edge. “Your marriage effectively sealed an alliance between us and Firlanyn. If the prince was to kill you, that would not only break the alliance, but it would likely turn the Edra against us. It would certainly set all of Firlanyn on us.”