In the Time of Dragon Moon (27 page)

Was it possible I was never meant to be born male? That I was supposed to be born a female? Was it possible I was not a mistake?

I closed my eyes. My tears fell soundlessly. The salty drops became one with the steaming pool warmed by dragon fire.

Princess Augusta's to DunGarrow, Dragonswood, Wil
d
e Island

Dragon Moon

October 1210

T
HE
GREEN
GOWN
Tanith left out for me to wear the next morning was silken like the costume I'd worn to the fey ball, but slightly heavier and more substantial. It had no ornamentation other than the subtle scrolling vine patterns that caught the light, revealing the shades of green from palest new leaf to a deep mossy color. The gown whispered as I slid it on. In the wardrobe mirror I ran my hands down my sides, reveling in the soft, sleek cut that traced my curves, yet somehow wasn't binding.

I walked about, swinging my arms. The skirts were so much lighter than the heavy velvet ones I'd grown used to. I tested the sleeves, pulling gently, then gave them a few hard tugs, and smiled, relieved. The material was light and strong. I could run in this gown, work in it, dance in it. I brushed my clean, dark hair and tied it with the ribbon Tanith left. Knife strapped under my green sleeve, dragon belt around my waist, I slipped on the gown's matching cloak and went outside to meet Jackrun and Augusta.

Jackrun stood near the riverbank between Princess Augusta and two dragons. I heard his breath catch when he spotted me. The wind coming off the river rustled my green skirts. His eyes drank me in as I approached.

“Uma,” he said, his brows raised.

“Good morning,” I said. He was newly dressed in huntsman's garb, one sleeve slit to allow for his bandaged arm. His green cloak was a shade darker than my gown. We were leaving earlier than I had expected. I'd missed my chance to speak with him alone.

“You know Filalda,” Princess Augusta said. “This is her sister, Eaudan.”

I recognized the dragon who'd rescued us. “Thank you for saving us from the wolves last night, Eaudan,” Jackrun said, bowing. I curtsied to her.

“All right, queen's physician,” Jackrun said, putting out his hand.

I should go back to Pendragon Castle. The queen was sure to need me. But if this was a trap, I could not let him go alone, not with his injuries. I touched his fingers, sad to feel the coldness of his skin. I mounted Eaudan. Jackrun stifled a grunt of pain as he swung up and sat behind me.

I clung to the green's upturned scale and prepared myself. Still, my stomach somersaulted as she launched skyward.

We traveled mile on mile as the dragons followed the river, their dark shadows skimming along the water below. When we rounded the last bend, we saw a roaring waterfall that tumbled down the mountainside and straight through the middle of the castle set against the mountain. I'd seen the Pendragon castles, and Princess Augusta's smaller one, but they were nothing to DunGarrow, home of the fey king. Look one way and it seemed a natural setting, a place of towering gray-black pinnacles and mossy ledges cut into the mountain rock. Look again and you saw the recessed windows shining behind the flowered terraces.

Eaudan soared over the castle spires to a grassy plateau above the falls where fourteen dragons waited. A large marble fountain, and the mound of earth in the golden pot to its right, indicated a kind of a ceremonial place. The dragons were seated in a semicircle behind King Onadon and his colorful courtiers.

Eaudan landed near the fountain. As soon as Jackrun and I dismounted, Princess Augusta and our dragons joined the sentinels behind the fairies. She climbed a boulder, Filalda and Eaudan on either side.

King Onadon stood a few paces in front of the rest, gripping his golden staff. He wore his crown tipped on his head as if he had just clapped it on as an afterthought. He nodded to Filalda, who lengthened her neck and shot a red flame toward us.

I jumped.

“It's all right,” Jackrun whispered, taking my hand. “He's gathering the elements.”

King Onadon drew circles in the air, turning the long red flames into a spinning golden orb over the fountain. Filalda no longer breathed fire. Still the orb remained, revolving bright as a small sun.

The king waved his hand again, summoning water from the river. A wave sped toward us, tumbling in midair before it fell, filling the marble fountain to the brim. The fountain came to life, the carved birds and dragons spraying water from the three-tiered layers down to the lowest bowl.

I felt Jackrun's cool hand surrounding mine as we waited for King Onadon to raise the final element.

The king made a small motion with his fingers. A gust blew across the meadow, spinning the fiery orb faster until it flung out chains of brilliant light. Wind whistled around us, lifting cloaks and hair and skirts, blowing the tops of the grass. A strong gale shoved against my back, chill as the windy blast I'd felt on Faul's Leap.

The gust softened to a breeze. Princess Augusta said, “Jackrun, meet your grandfather King Onadon.”

Jackrun went down on his good knee.

“And this is Jackrun's friend the healer and queen's physician, Uma Quarteney.”

I curtsied beside Jackrun.

“Come closer,” said King Onadon, motioning with his finger. Suddenly Jackrun and I were both moved across the grass as if the king had tugged the earth, pulling us toward him on a green carpet. Onadon had moved us against our will, handled us like chess pieces when we could have just as easily walked! I hid my fists in the folds of my skirts, the bite marks stinging under the new bandage.

“I have waited long to meet you, King Onadon,” Jackrun said in a clear tone.

“As I have you, Jackrun.” He eyed Jackrun's bandaged arm. “We heard you battled wolves. How are your injuries?”

“Better, sire. Uma Quarteney treated me. She is a great physician.”

I bit my lip at the exaggeration. Will-o'-the-wisps flew across the river, some landing in the trees to our right, a few circling over King Onadon's head as he appraised me.

“You are welcome here, Uma Quarteney. Your people and ours shared Wilde Island along with the dragons countless generations before the English came.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“But your customs must have changed recently,” he added. “The Adans we have known were all male.” I lowered my eyes and studied the chained light patterns on the ground. When I looked up again, I had to blink at the flitting movements of the crowd. The fey folk had seemed constant at first; now I noticed fairies appearing and disappearing, as one winked out, another took his or her place. The rippling light from the fiery orb had confused my eyes. I hadn't noticed the constant change until now. At least King Onadon was constant, as were Princess Augusta and the dragons behind him.

“You took your time, coming to see me, grandson.”

“I had duties to perform at my uncle's castle. We had to bury his son. I noticed none of your court came.”

“We were not welcome. King Arden has hardened his heart against us and the dragons.”

“He blamed a dragon for his son's death,” Jackrun said, “but my cousin's murder wasn't the fault of any dragon.”

I cringed at the blunt remark as King Onadon repeated the word. “Murder?”

The word echoed through the crowd behind him. The dragons' tongues slithered in and out, licking up the sound.

“We heard it was an accident,” King Onadon said. “We were told you were there with him when he fell.”

“I was there, and so was Uma.”

“And what makes you think it was murder, grandson? This is news to me and my court.”

“We felt the wind that pushed him over the edge.”

“A wind can blow from anywhere,” Onadon argued with the wave of a hand.

“Or it can be summoned by those who have the power to do it, as you've just shown us, Grandfather.”

A frown was growing on the king's noble face.

“Are you so completely innocent?” King Onadon continued. “You knew the kind of man he was. Can you honestly say you wished
him
to be king?”

Jackrun clenched his jaw. No one thought Desmond would make a good king except his doting parents and Lady Olivia, who envisioned her daughter beside him on the throne. Tabitha's words whispered through me:
He's a monster, Jack.
He'll be a tyrant when he's king.

“In a fair fight for the crown, the strongest wins,” King Onadon said. “That is how we do it in Dragonswood.”

“That is not how humans inherit, Grandfather.”

“Are you sure? Many kings in your human history were toppled by those who challenged them. Brother has gone against brother, cousin against cousin. Or don't you study your own English history?”

Silence.

“Very well, Jackrun, if a man is born to become king, answer me this: Were you?”

The crowd hushed. Even the dragons looked expectant.

The Son of the Prophecy was born to rule.
All the fairy folk believed that. I could see it in their faces.

“I never wanted a crown purchased by my cousin's blood,” Jackrun said icily.

King Onadon narrowed his eyes.

A piercing raptor's cry tore through the sky above. All looked up.

“Vazan,” I called, surprised. She had vowed never to enter
Dragonswood prison,
as she called it. Yet she had flown in with her newly stitched wing. I watched her wheeling down.

“Come, Uma.” It was not a plea but an order.

“What's wrong, Vazan?”

“The queen is worse.”

Onadon called, “You have entered our domain, red dragon.”

“I will not set claw down in your domain,” she answered with distaste. “I am here for Uma Quarteney.” She darted closer in. “Come now, Uma, if you don't want to lose everything we are fighting for.”

“What do you fight for, Vazan?” demanded Onadon.

“Freedom!”

“Then come down and speak with us. We are a free people here.”

Vazan whisked down, I thought to land, but instead she hovered by the cliff and lowered her head. “Get on, Uma.”

“Your stitched wing. Can you carry my weight so soon?”

“Yessss!”

I adjusted the herb basket on my shoulder and looked at Jackrun, torn.

King Onadon said, “Before you go, queen's physician, I say this. Her Majesty Queen Adela owes us for her glass eye. If we had left her marred, she would have never wed King Arden. Remind her of it.”

“I will do my best to remind her, Your Majesty,” I said, not knowing when or how I could possibly pass on such a message to the queen.

I turned to Jackrun. “She is injured. She won't be able to carry us both.”

“I can't leave yet anyway.” He put his lips close to my ear. “If they've placed an infertility hex on the queen, I'll make sure it's removed before I come back to you.”

“Uma!” roared Vazan, hovering by the cliff's edge. The stubborn dragon wouldn't land to make mounting easy. I grabbed the kea bundle, ran to her, and barely managed to straddle her neck before she backwinged from the cliff. She raised her head and sent me sliding down her long neck. I came to a sudden painful stop against her shoulders, the kea bundle flying from my grip.

“We can't leave that behind,” I screamed as it fell. Vazan dove for it, jolting me forward. I would have joined the falling bundle if I hadn't grabbed her protruding scale and driven my knees into her. She snatched the kea in her talons and winged back up again. In the air, I craned my neck to look once more at the high plateau above DunGarrow Castle. Jackrun stood at the cliff's edge, his dark hair blowing back, the crowd of fairies and dragons behind him. He lifted his hand and touched his ear, reminding me of the words he'd just whispered in mine as he watched us go.

Dragonswood to Pendragon Castle, Wil
d
e Island

Dragon Moon

October 1210

W
E
CANNOT
GO
straight back. I still have to find huzana vines.”

“Gone two nights and you still don't have all the herbs you need?”

I did not feel like explaining. Too much had happened since I'd entered Dragonswood. “Go as I guide you,” I said, watching the treetops for the vines, the ground for a sign of fox. The cold wind chased us. I worried about Vazan's stitched wing as I hunched under my new green cloak, shivering and looking down. When I saw fox darting through the bracken, I called, “Follow her.”

So far Vazan had managed not to land in Dragonswood prison.

“Those trees there.” She swept lower, gripped a high branch with a claw, and pumped her wings slowly, waiting for me to climb to another branch. Her weight bent the treetop down. It was a good thirty-foot drop to the earth below. One of my slippers tumbled to the forest floor as I clambered onto the safest-looking branch, holding on to another. The tree leaned at a dangerous angle. I hung on with one hand, pulled leaves off the huzana vine with the other, filling the top of my basket. When I heard a loud crack, I climbed up and threw a leg over Vazan's neck. The tree broke as she took off, and crashed to the forest floor.

The wind continued to harass us over Dragonswood. Almost as if Onadon were using his magic to sweep us out. Midday we landed near the Pendragon tomb. I would have used the secret way in, but the gatehouse men must have seen Vazan coming; already a soldier crossed the drawbridge expectantly.

Vazan handed me the kea bundle she'd carried in her claw.

I dipped my head. “
Tuma-doa
—thank you.” She kept a claw out a little longer for me to touch. I teared up, running my hand over her scales, ending at her talons, black as marble, sharp as spears. “Go rest your wing now, rivule.” For once she did not argue. I watched her mount the sky, then met the soldier at the drawbridge. He reached for the kea bundle, but I would not let him carry it for me.

“The stables first,” I said to him. “I have a message for the head groom.” We asked around and found the man currying a fine white charger.

“I had to leave the horses we took tied up by Kingsway Road.”

The man stopped brushing and looked back at me. “How far away, mistress physician?”

“Twelve miles or more to the south.”

“Those mounts belong to King Arden,” he said gruffly. “Where is Sir Giles? I have a word or two to say to him.”

“Dead, sir,” I said with a thick throat. “We were attacked by wolves.”

His eyes widened. He was crossing himself, brush still in his hand.

We left the stable. “He was a good knight,” the soldier said, leading me inside the castle. “I'll have to tell the commander he's dead. But first I'm to take you to Her Majesty.”

“I should mix her remedy before I see her.”

He paused in the hall. “I was told—”

“It won't take long,” I said.

The man paced outside the door to the Crow's Nest as I cut off portions of the new kea stems, adding them to the huzana leaves and bapeeta in the simmering pot.

“Ready?” he called through the door, pounding it at the same time with his fist. I shed my slipper, no good wearing it when the other was lost, went out barefoot to the cold stone alcove at the top of the stairs, and followed him through the winding halls toward the queen's tower.

I'd been away two full days and nights; still, I was not prepared for what I met when I opened the queen's door. The bedchamber was in shambles, every drawer was open, gowns and shoes were strewn across the floor as if a tempest had swept in.

Her Majesty wandered through the clothing piles talking to herself. I saw no sign of Lady Olivia.

“Your Majesty?” I said with a curtsy. When she ignored me, I approached her cautiously, holding out the brew, staying close in case she grabbed it and tried to hurl it across the room. I sighed when she drank it, and began picking up her things. I could have called down to the guard at the base of the bedroom stairs, demanded he send up a chambermaid at once, but I thought better of it. She was worse than I'd seen her since the early days after her son died. I wanted a little time to restore her before anyone else came in.

“Her eye will do,” the queen said, still pacing. “Then we will dig out her heart.”

“Here, Your Majesty,” I said, helping her sit before her vanity.

“I'll execute him,” she said to the mirror. “He murdered Pippin.”

“Who murdered Pippin?” I asked, astonished.

“The guard, see the blood?” She pointed to a tangled red gown on the floor, then put her face in her hands and wept.

“Your Majesty, I will be right back.”

I hurried downstairs to speak to the man below. “Where is the queen's lapdog, Pippin?”

“The page left with Lady Olivia to take Pippin on his morning walk.”

“So the dog is all right?”

He cocked a brow. “Course he is, why?”

“The queen is unwell. Do not let anyone up to see her while I'm gone. I won't be a moment,” I said before going out. I found Pippin in the walled garden pissing in the ferns while the freckle-faced page stood by. Lady Olivia was seated on a stone bench under a covered archway. Seeing me, she stood up glaring.

“So you've returned to us at last,” she said, wrapping her cloak tightly around herself. Her nose was pink and her face looked paler than usual if that were possible.

“I need to take Pippin back to the queen, my lady.”

“Have you any idea of the distress you caused Her Majesty by staying away so long?” Turning aside, she sneezed, and dabbed her nose with a lace handkerchief.

Didn't I say I might be gone two days?
“There was trouble. A wolf attack. Sir Giles was killed.” There wasn't time to go into all the rest of the story before I raced back up the stairs.

She saw my bandaged hand. “And you were injured,” she said, her voice softer now. She sneezed again.

“It's nothing. How long have you been feeling ill, my lady?”

“I'm only a little bit tired, Uma. I have had to attend Queen Adela day and night since you left.” The short speech seemed to exhaust her. Sighing, she sat again. “How is she?”

“Very bad, I'm afraid.”

“I only just left her, but I'll go to her. I just came out for some air while the lad walks Pippin.” She dabbed her nose. “What?” she added, seeing my expression.

“I don't think you should attend Her Majesty until you're feeling better, my lady.”

She was about to protest, when she coughed into her handkerchief.

“You should be in bed,” I added.

“You will watch over her?” She gazed up, uncertain.

“I will. I promise. Now go.”

She raised her brows at the insistence in my voice, but gave in, knowing I was right, and headed for the garden gate. I turned and went for Pippin, who was already wriggling in the boy's arms and licking his face.

The boy grinned. “I'll take 'im up, mistress.”

“No, give him to me. I have to do it.” I hurried back inside and entered the queen's solar with my small prize.

“Here's Pippin alive and well,” I said triumphantly. “No one has harmed him as you can see.”

The queen glanced up, neither surprised nor pleased, and made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Filthy paws.”

I looked about for something to wipe Pippin's paws with before I set him down. Knowing better than to use the queen's facecloth by her washbowl, and finding nothing else, I had to head back downstairs and snatch a cloth from the queen's presence room before returning with the dog.

The rest of the day was a whirl of activity. Later when I was in the herbarium, mixing her bedtime dose, Bianca came up the stairs and poked her head through the door.

“I'm sorry; I cannot give you any more evicta, Bianca.”

“Mother said you were attacked by wolves.” She pushed into the chilly room, put her candelabra on my worktable, and placed a pair of slippers on my floor.

“How badly are you hurt? Let me see.” Her pink gown swished as she came closer, her face soft with concern, reaching for my bandaged hand.

I stepped back. “I'm all right, Bianca.” I was used to her coming here to beg for evicta, not to ask after my health.

“Mother also said you were barefoot, so I thought you might need these.” She looked down at the slippers she'd placed near the table leg. “They might be too small for you, but . . .”

The black slippers were covered with embroidered vines and delicate leaves.

“Try them. They will match your pretty moss-green gown,” she said, touching my silken sleeve. “The gown suits you,” she added. “No lace or pearls, still it's beautiful.”

“A gift from someone in Dragonswood,” I said.

Her eyes grew wide.

The slippers were a little too narrow for my feet “They are so fine. Are you sure?”

“Oh, it's nothing. I have so many shoes and gowns, a whole wardrobe full. Mother wants me to dress like a princess.” She frowned at her hands, her skin pale as tallow, her lovely nails curved like crescent moons.

I fought for what to say as the silence drew out longer. “How is Lady Olivia feeling?”

“She coughs some. But she . . . is strong.”

“She hasn't sent you to ask me for a curative for her?”

“She wouldn't. She says your medicines are strictly for the queen. She doesn't like having to stay apart from Her Majesty, but she knows she mustn't spread contagion.” Bianca swished to my vanity but did not sit. “I shouldn't have come to you myself to take the queen's medicine those other times,” she said, blushing. “I never told Mother I came to you.”

“I won't tell her, Bianca.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You are so brave,” she added, fingering the hairbrush on my vanity, “going herbing with the wolves still out there. I only wanted to say . . . we are friends, aren't we?”

The soft words stole into me as she looked up. I saw the rings below her eyes that she never could quite cover with her powder, and remembered the last time I'd seen her in tears in the castle hallway with the king holding her close, drawing her into her room. Her flirtations with His Majesty went against all I was trying to do to help Queen Adela conceive an heir. For that we should be enemies.

She was waiting.

“Thank you for coming to see how I am,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. “And for the slippers. The castle floors are cold.”

The little smile she gave in return made my eyes prick. “You should . . . go now. I have work to do.”

“Don't you ever rest?” Bianca surveyed the Crow's Nest, the boiling pans lined up in a neat row, the mortar and pestle on the worktable. “I suppose you can't rest in your profession,” she added, retrieving her candelabra. I closed the door behind her, leaned my head against it, and swiped away tears. It was always kindness that undid me.

I should mix the queen's night remedy. Instead, I crossed the room, pulled woundwort from my woven basket, and undid my bandage. The red teeth marks were slowly healing. I applied the salve along the back of my hand, then on my palm.

Jackrun had dipped his calloused finger in this same jar, rubbed it gently on my puncture wounds. I didn't know if I was weeping now from the cooling relief or from the place in my heart Jackrun had unknowingly opened when he'd salved my hand. I remembered the trusting look he'd given me before I'd stitched his wounds. As a healer, I had known just what to do. But as a woman, I was lost. He was leading me into a new country, a mysterious place where I did not walk alone, but beside him.

I'd left him on the cliff just this morning. Already it seemed too long ago.

• • •

O
VER
THE
NEXT
week I potioned Queen Adela and tried to keep her happy as she went from tearful to vindictive to forgetful. She was approaching the fertile time of her cycle again. I had to balance her as quickly as possible, or the king could not visit her bed.

Afraid to leave her overnight, I took to sleeping in the trundle bed Lady Olivia sometimes used. At first my remedies didn't seem to make a difference to her wild moods. But after seven long days of lacing her fertility tonic with ever increasing doses of bapeeta, I saw the angry lines around her mouth smooth out, the strange mad look went out of her face. I waited one more day to be sure she was in balance. Hopeful my cure was finally working; I sent a message to King Arden. The queen was well enough to join her husband at the feast table, and, with any luck, he'd come to her room for the night.

I watched the queen dine from a place in the shadows in the crowded Great Hall. I still preferred to take my meals privately away from the noisy feast tables, or in the kitchen with the staff, but when a server offered me wine, I took it and sipped it gratefully. Queen Adela's eyes were bright as she spoke with her husband at the high table. Her cheeks were rosy with health. King Arden caught my eye and shot me a positive glance halfway through the meal.

Stars winked through the high windows. The waxing Dragon Moon grew more powerful every night. Father taught me this animal moon had great healing powers, ruling earth, wind, and fire; it needed only the element of water for complete balance. I decided I would order Her Majesty a restorative bath tomorrow. No bath could match the one I'd had in Dragonswood warmed by Filalda's fire, but I would sprinkle the water with scented herbs and give the queen the best bath available here at the king's court.

An hour later the sentry put out his hand and stopped me at the base of the queen's stairs. “The king is with his wife, queen's physician.”