The Dragon Princess

by Paris Hansch

  He clenched and unclenched his fists. She never held back, and it was something that he found both refreshing and infuriating. Right now, it was the latter. “Fine. Tell me what you think I’m missing.”

  Mina shook her head. “I’m not one of the people you need to hear it from.” She paused at the top of the steps, the breeze blowing through her hair. “I’ll be taking my leave now. Wouldn’t want to worry Adelia too much.”

  Alexander managed a curt nod, then headed back for his chambers. He couldn’t please everyone—that was the burden of being a ruler. He had no choice but to try to do what was best for the most people, not just some of them.

  A wave of exhaustion hit him, and his mind was a fog. He could think about tonight’s events later. He collapsed into bed, barely managing to kick his boots off. Tomorrow would be a long day.

  The next day was as busy as Alexander had expected. Every year, the Celestial Dragon Festival, an auspicious celebration for the entire empire, was held to honor the dragon gods and the imperial family. It seemed somewhat ridiculous to hold a grand celebration in light of recent events, but the impending war only made the Festival all the more necessary.

  By the time evening had arrived, the celebrations were in full swing, though the atmosphere was still tense. The city had been preparing for weeks, but with war around the corner, the people didn’t seem to know how to react. Today of all days, Alexander had to be seen amongst his people without the slightest bit of worry showing in his face. This year, it wasn’t a celebration—it was a salve for a fresh wound.

  Alexander gazed at the decorations lining the streets, which coated his city in imperial white and gold. The commoners bowed on either side of the main street as he passed by with his entourage, waving at his people. Some were smiling at him, but others held the same disappointed look that Mina had.

  Alexander tightened the sash around his waist; his entire outfit hung in the balance of this single knot. The chilly air drifted across his skin, with his toes sticking out of the sandals. If the need arose, it would be impossible to fight in this ridiculous design—it offered no protection from a sword or the elements—but it would be a grave insult if he were to be the only one who refused to wear the capital’s traditional clothing. If there were one thing he hated about the festival, it was the outfit.

  The procession ended in the main square, where thousands of folded paper lanterns had been stacked along the streets, ready for the ceremony. Quill in hand, Alexander read his message aloud for his people, asking the dragon gods for protection in the coming weeks. He didn’t mention the final words that he’d written on the lantern—the opportunity to speak to Mina. Tonight would probably be his last chance to do so before he saw her off with his sister.

  He held up the lantern, the flickering light illuminating his letters. A cheer erupted from the crowd as it sailed into the sky, and then his people scrambled to write their own messages. Alexander glanced to his left, spotting one of his maids struggling, her crude handwriting spelling out happy, luck and nice fortunes. She must not have studied hard enough when she was a child. He moved to offer his assistance but stopped as she lit her lantern. She seemed happy enough with her efforts.

  Soon, all of the lanterns were let go as the people sent their messages toward the spirit realm like tiny beacons of hope. Thousands upon thousands of lights rose across the empire at once in a beautiful display.

  Alexander was still staring upward when the music started. His people began dancing around him, and he knew that the celebrations wouldn’t cease until dawn. A gaggle of young women approached him, nudging each other forward, and he suppressed a sigh. It was already starting. Alexander pasted on a smile, greeting them one by one and briefly pressing his lips against their outstretched hands.

  Councilor Dallan nodded approvingly in his direction. It was no secret that his council wanted an heir, and his lack of betrothal at twenty-seven years of age was concerning.

  Alexander twirled the women around, his feet moving automatically. He could feel their desperation to get close to him, and he felt crowded. His household was scattered amongst the commoners, nobles with the poor, soldiers with the servants. His smile was reflected in the nobles’ faces, their displeasure thinly masked by duty and tradition. Tonight was the one occasion in which it was acceptable to approach anyone, no matter their status, and it wasn’t a surprise that people took advantage of that.

  Someone bumped into him, and he stumbled forward, causing his current dance partner to shoot a nasty glare behind him. A woman spun away, her figure a thick barrel of golden fabric, layered to resemble dragon scales, the tail sweeping into people’s legs. Her hands gripped Anton’s, and his brother was visibly sweating as he mouthed help me. Alexander shrugged, smirking at him. This was something his brother could handle alone. Besides, he had his own situation to deal with.

  His partner blushed slightly, gazing up at him. “Perhaps my lord wishes to go somewhere we won’t be disturbed?” she asked, her finger twirling a lock of her hair. It was so practiced, it made him feel physically ill. The song ended, and he gave her a tight-lipped smile, his eyes darting across the crowd.

  “Thank you for the dance,” he said, but there was only one person with whom he wanted to dance. He finally caught a glimpse of her, slipping away from the square, and he excused himself, weaving through the throng of people and following her onto a little alcove.

  Mina leaned over the wall, looking out at the horizon and the lanterns lining the streets below, creating a warm glow around the city. Her hair was pinned back in a way that only his sister could do, with a single winter lily tucked behind her ear. Her robes hugged her body in a far more natural fit than his own. Even the air around her was different from the other women.

  Alexander leaned on his elbow next to her, making sure that his sash was tight enough. He could do this.

  Her eyes didn’t leave the city as she spoke. “There’s a fire.”

  He jerked his head, scanning the horizon. One of his people in the streets below them yelped, dropping a lantern and shaking their hands rapidly as the paper caught alight. He relaxed his shoulders. Not that kind of fire, though it was certainly foolish of them; one should know better than to play with an open flame. Alexander shook his head.

  The corner of Mina’s lips turned up as she faced him. “I take it you’re not enjoying the festival.” She could always see right through him.

  Alexander wiped his brow. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” The music picked up once more, and he let out a breath. His palms were suddenly sweaty. “You’re… the one woman who hasn’t asked me to dance yet.”

  Mina raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of asking?”

  Alexander swallowed, offering his hand. “Yes.”

  She placed her hand in his, the other resting on his shoulder, and his settled around her waist. It was actually happening. Alexander led her a few steps away from the wall as the soft melody echoed in the background.

  Mina glanced toward the square. “I know this tune.”

  He gently twirled her around. “The Aria of the Gods? Everyone knows that one.” It was nostalgic, the kind of lullaby that sang life into his very spirit, building up to a magnificent crescendo—but he was too nervous to enjoy it.

  “When the light meets the darkness, all will hold their breath,” she murmured, her voice following the music. “As the world regains composure, and the end results in death.”

  “Those would be interesting lyrics,” Alexander remarked. It was strange that no one had ever tried to put lyrics to it before.

  She looked up at him, and his breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening. He had always dodged the subject before, unable to bring it up. But it was now or never.

  “Mina… I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Yes?”

  One of his lieutenants rounded the corner, his head scanning left to right. He scrambled toward them at once, bowing his head before speaking low into Alexander’s ear.
“Milord, report from the eastern sector. There’s been an attack.” His eyes darted out toward the horizon.

  Alexander pursed his lips. Couldn’t Anadrieth survive without him for one minute? He reluctantly pulled his hands from Mina’s, following his lieutenant’s gaze. Black smoke was drifting steadily across the sky. Alexander opened his mouth. That was not there before.

  “Go,” said Mina, giving him a little push.

  Alexander nodded, sprinting out into the streets after the lieutenant. There was no time to change clothes, and a horse was already waiting for him. He set off immediately with a handful of soldiers, while the lieutenant gathered backup. If this were a Lanadese attack, they would be in trouble. He spurred his horse forward.

  As they neared the outskirts of the city, the smoke was thick, and bits of ash and debris rained down upon them. Alexander pulled his cloak up to cover his mouth. The houses here seemed to get smaller and smaller as they neared the source of the smoke, their structures far less sturdy than those in the center.

  Citizens crowded the scene, a wall of bodies surrounding the remnants of a single house, though it could hardly be called that anymore. It was nothing more than a pile of smoldering wood. Some people were still hurling buckets of water at the shack, catching the embers as they strayed from the area.

  Alexander dismounted, approaching the remains. He ordered his men to scout the area and question the witnesses. He could tell immediately that this was no ordinary fire. The houses on either side, though made of wood, were singed but otherwise completely intact. It clearly wasn’t a small fire, either, given the speed at which it had destroyed a single house. There must have been a short-lived but intense, concentrated heat source.

  Like an explosion.

  Alexander scratched his head. That kind of explosive power was difficult to come by—way out of league for a few bandits. It must have been an attack of some kind, surely, but there was no advantage to this location; it wasn’t a wealthy area, it didn’t provide tactical benefits, nor did it cause him a significant loss. If anything, this seemed like a test, as though the culprit were rehearsing an attack before the real thing.

  Somehow, it didn’t feel like Lanadrin was responsible. Lord Tamar was impulsive, not calculating. There was no way he’d risk alerting his position like that, unless it was a distraction. Alexander shuddered. It could have been the Mistress.

  Alexander immediately grabbed one of his men to ride back and put his army on high alert.

  “But be discreet,” he said. “If this is a false alarm, I don’t want to frighten the rest of the people.”

  Another soldier ran up to him, bowing with his arm across his chest. There were a few people in tow.

  “Reporting, Milord! The perimeter is clear. As of yet, no causalities have been accounted for. We haven’t been able to locate those who lived here, but these were the first witnesses on scene.”

  Alexander nodded. “I see. Gather my council for an urgent meeting when I return.” He turned his attention to the witnesses, a young couple and an old man. “Please explain what you saw.”

  The old man bowed his head. “I was walking by when I heard some raised voices and a scream. Figured it was those two fighting again, so didn’t think much of it. Not long later, flames burst out of the windows,” he said, rubbing his arms. “Was burning up just being near it.”

  The woman clutched her husband. “Milord, we were coming home early from the festival. Had to put our kid to bed. We ran over when we heard the ruckus since we live two houses down. I was real frightened.” She pointed to the burnt house. “That couple who live there don’t talk much to the rest of us. They keep to themselves, they do, but we hear them fighting all the time.”

  Her husband nodded. “We couldn’t do nothing. The fire was too big. I was about to grab our things and run when it suddenly died down. Then, everyone came to help put out the rest. The whole thing was over in a few minutes, believe it or not.”

  Alexander stroked his chin. “I see. Was there anything else unusual? Anyone leaving the scene?”

  The three of them glanced at each other.

  “Don’t think you’ll believe us, but there was something.”

  “A figure on fire.”

  “An evil spirit, I tell you,” said the old man, shaking his head.

  Alexander questioned them further, but they just kept repeating the same things. Their stories confirmed his suspicions—it certainly wasn’t an evil spirit, but there was definitely someone responsible. The heat was already beginning to dissipate, and the smoke was clearing.

  He walked through the ashes, scanning the ground. There was one particularly burnt area that stood out—a blackened spot about as wide as two people if he stood in the middle. Presumably, this was where the explosion had been set off. He knelt, picking up a dull white shard from the floor. It felt like bone, though human or animal, it was difficult to tell. He couldn’t do anything else here for now. Alexander wiped his hands on his robes, mounting his horse. Hopefully, his council would be able to give him advice.

  When he returned to the castle, they were already assembled in the war room, sharing drinks around the table. His presence caused the merriment in the room to quieten, and his councilors attempted to set down their cups. They couldn’t seem to sit still with their glassy eyes and red faces. It may or may not have been a Lanadese attack, but the timing was too perfect to be coincidental. This couldn’t wait until morning.

  “A single house in the eastern sector was attacked tonight,” Alexander began. As he finished explaining the details, his men erupted, shouting at each other.

  “This won’t be the last time—”

  “It was Lanadrin!” shouted Councilor Raoul.

  “They wouldn’t get this far without my knowledge,” snapped General Barrett, taking a long swig of his ale.

  “—about time we did something!”

  “It could be that woman.”

  “Silence!” Councilor Dallan slammed his fist on the table. “Sober up, all of you. This is serious business.”

  Alexander gave him a thankful nod. It was a good thing that his head councilor had returned when he did.

  “My lord,” Councilor Dallan said. “No matter who is responsible, the sooner our alliance is solidified, the safer we’ll be. The preparations are already made for your departure, but it’s best if you make haste when dawn comes.”

  General Barrett raised his cup. “I agree. My men have already been scouting the city and haven’t seen any signs of the Lanadese or any other fires.” He hiccupped. “I’m confident we will be able to hold the fort until you return.”

  The other councilors nodded along with Alexander. Prolonging the alliance wasn’t going to do them any good, and the sooner he left, the sooner he could return. It wouldn’t be a good idea to give the Lanadese any more time to prepare.

  “Then, we leave at dawn.”

  Chapter Eight

  Anton

  Anton sneezed, rubbing his nose on his sleeve and attempting to breathe through his mouth, but to no avail. His horse trudged forward in their procession through the snow, shaking its thick feathers in a taunting manner.

  Damn horse.

  It wasn’t really the horse’s fault, but he was certain that they had given him the hairiest one on purpose. Its feathers tickled his nose, and its coat was thick enough to grab a fistful of hair. But he couldn’t hold his breath the whole way.

  Two carriages rolled along beside him—one carrying Adelia, the servant girl and supplies, the other filled to the brim with expensive gifts and whatnot. They were already giving Eloria his little sister; what more could they want? The gifts were just as unnecessary as the number of people accompanying the wedding convoy, including himself. An extra two dozen men were far too conspicuous. It was like they were begging to be found by the Lanadese.

  There was no logical reason as to why he was being dragged along, either. His brother couldn’t see the dangers of all three of them leaving Anadrieth a
t once, and the councilors obviously didn’t want to be trapped under the leadership of the spare. He wasn’t even summoned for the incident last night; he’d only heard of it through the soldier’s conversations this morning.

  Anton nudged his horse forward to come up alongside his brother. Maybe he could bring the problem up now while it was just the two of them.

  “Alexa—” He sneezed violently several times, and his eyes began to water.

  Alexander patted him on the back. “Did you bring that poultice Elaine made for you?”

  Anton pulled a small bottle from his bag, uncorking it and positioning it over his tongue. A single drop fell out before the bottle was empty.

  His brother shook his head. “It’s only been a day.”

  Anton shoved the bottle back in his bag. “You’d be downing it, too, if you couldn’t breathe. I can’t help that horses and I don’t mix well.” An awkward silence passed between them as Alexander chuckled, then returned to his thoughts. Anton gathered his courage. “I… Don’t you think it’s strange that all three of us are leaving Anadrieth at the same time?”

  Alexander gave him one of his comforting smiles, which meant that he wasn’t really paying attention. “Don’t worry, Brother. The return journey will be quicker, and Anadrieth is in good hands. Councilor Dallan and General Barrett are in charge.”

  “That’s what I’m concerned about,” Anton muttered. Even away from his councilors, his brother was still ensnared by them. It was almost as bad as his obsession with the servant girl. He blew his nose into a white handkerchief, a monogrammed ‘A’ in one corner. Adelia had only ever made three of them when she had first learned how to sew—one for him, his brother and her future husband.

  They’re more special that way. And if you love it, think of how my knight in shining armor will react!

  Anton bit back a smile, tucking the handkerchief away in his pocket. She’d always been so obsessed with the prospect of falling in love, just like the heroines in all of the storybooks she had read. This probably wasn’t the happy ending she’d hoped for, but at least he was coming along to make sure that this Lord Reinhardt character was a decent man. Not that he cared; it would just be inconvenient if she were unhappy. The only good thing about this whole trip was that he’d never have to see that servant girl again.