In the Time of Dragon Moon (9 page)

I looked at him, pointing at his dragon. “You could be adding your fire to theirs,” I whispered.

His fairy glamour melted away. “Uma, you don't understand what you're saying.”

“What?” I asked. “Tell me.”

He gripped my wrist and dragged me through the noisy revelers, past a bear juggling knives, couples kissing in the shadows. His large hand was too tight around my wrist, his skin too hot. We moved farther and farther away on the lawn, deeper into the dark. I could have pulled back and dug my feet in. But I wanted to go with him. He'd rolled up his sleeves when he'd fought in the practice yard, proudly showing his dragon scales. Why hide his greater dragon's gift from everyone as if he were ashamed of it?

But before he could say anything, Lady Olivia called, running up to us. “Uma? I have been looking everywhere for you. The queen needs you.”

Jackrun had stepped away from me the moment she'd called out, sliding into his fox guise. He remained behind in the shadows as we raced back for the castle.

• • •

W
E
FOUND
L
ADY
Tess trying to manage Queen Adela in the corner of the Great Hall. The duchess had removed her cat mask to speak to the queen, who laughed and swayed, conversing with a pillar.

“I think she's had too much wine,” Tess said.

Lady Olivia and I both knew her babbling could not be blamed on wine alone. The duchess had done her best to quiet Her Majesty; still, revelers gaped at us, some speaking behind their hands. At least King Arden was too busy dancing with a pretty fey woman to notice me dosing his wife with the bapeeta I'd brought. The queen licked the honeyed spoon. Now we only had to wait.

I wanted to run back outside and find Jackrun, but I was trapped here until Her Majesty's mind was sound.

“You are enjoying the ball?” Lady Tess asked, flicking a spot of paint from her wrist. I'd heard she had an artist's studio somewhere in the castle. Her thumbnails were misshapen. It was strange to see warped, discolored nails on such finely shaped hands.

I looked up. “Yes, my lady.”

“Some of the fey glamours and shape-shifters might upset you if you aren't used to them,” she said. “They used to frighten me.”

“I'm not nervous, my lady.”

“She is a strong young woman,” Lady Olivia said proudly.

“I can see that,” the duchess said, pausing to tug the tip of her cat's tail out from under her shoe. She watched the guests in her Great Hall. She was close to Queen Adela's age, yet she looked too young to have a seventeen-year-old son, but maybe her fey blood added the youthful blush to her skin.

For a moment I let myself wonder how different things would be if Tess had followed the fairies' plan, married Prince Arden in his youth, and become our Pendragon queen.

I would be at home in Devil's Boot. My father would still be alive, my people free. I felt an ache so deep I put my hand over my stomach.

“Are you well?” Lady Tess asked.

“Yes, my lady. I . . . must have spun too fast dancing outside just now.”

She smiled, and looked about again. Her eyes sparkled when she fixed them on her husband, who was joking and laughing with a fey man at one of the refreshment tables. I saw that things could never have been any different than they are. She'd choose the same man now. The love between this man and this woman had changed our island's history.

“Her Majesty will be fine now, Lady Tess,” Lady Olivia said. “We can attend to her if you need to get back to your other guests.”

I watched the duchess of Dragon's Keep slip her cat mask on again. It was adorned with silver whiskers, but otherwise very plain. She was half fey and could have used a glamour spell, like Tabitha or Jackrun, for tonight's ball. For some reason she had chosen not to.

Lady Olivia and I tempted Queen Adela with sweetmeats, watched her eat, waited. When at last a calmer, more controlled queen went out to dance with her husband again, we breathed a mutual sigh. If she remained balanced, happy, the king might visit her bed tonight.

“You are a fine physician, Uma,” Lady Olivia said.

“Thank you, my lady.” I wasn't used to compliments. It was like eating unfamiliar food. I had to chew on it a while.

“I heard about the incident between Prince Desmond and the fey boy on the lawn,” Lady Olivia said, tapping her foot and craning her neck to follow the king and queen on the dance floor.

“Who told you, my lady?”

“All the fey folk are talking about it. Were you there?” she asked pointedly. “Did you see?”

I nodded.

“What did you think, Uma?”

I wasn't sure what to say to this woman who favored the prince and hoped he'd marry her daughter. “I think it was . . . dangerous,” I admitted under my breath.

“Yes, the fairies can be devious and dangerous. It is not good to cross them. I don't trust them myself.”

I looked about anxiously, hoping no fey had overheard her. A moment later I excused myself, headed for a refreshment table by the side doors, and slipped back outside.

Down on the green, I found Jackrun in his fox glamour, dancing with a partner under the circling dragons. The woman in his arms wore shining fish scales and fan-shaped wings like the magical sea folk Mother used to tell stories about. Her rippling laughter when he swung her around made me think of the dangerous water women who lured fishermen to the deeps, and drowned them.

She'd pulled her sea woman mask up. A human girl, her skin soft and pale, not one of the fey folk using a glamour spell. She was nearly as pretty as Desmond's favorite back home, Bianca, but not quite. Jackrun held her close. One arm tucked under her wing. My hands itched for a silver chalice so I could catch his true expression, but something made me step back into the jumbled crowd as he whisked her away past the row of torches.

Pendragon Summer Castle, Dragon's Keep

Egret Moon

August 1210

A
TAPPING
SOUND
awakened me that night.
Not the door,
I thought groggily,
the window.
I opened the shutters and jumped back. A long black dragon's talon pressed against the glass.

“Uma?” Jackrun's muffled voice said from somewhere outside.

“What are you doing?” I asked, poking my head out. Jackrun clung to Babak, who hung nearly vertical, his tail wrapped like a vine around the tower below for extra support, his claws gripping the tower ledge, and his wings flapping slowly.

“Here.” Jackrun handed me a long white egret feather. I took it, surprised.

“You left the ball,” he said.

“Physicians do not have time to dance.”
And you were dancing with a mermaid when I came back out.

“I see.” His eyes were piercing as if he'd read my thought. “We cannot stay,” he added. A moment later Babak lost his grip and plummeted down, flipping nose to tail before he straightened out again, wings pumping. I sucked in a startled breath.

Jackrun clung to his dragon's back, laughing. Yes, laughing.

“Thank you for the feather!” I called as Babak winged toward the bay, unsure if he could still hear me.

Jackrun was both dragon and fairy, hot-tempered and human, a man who loved swordfights and oranges. Who did not mind retrieving feathers.

The sun wouldn't rise for a few hours. I took off my nightshift, belted my gown, and strapped my knife to my arm before locking the door. Drunken revelers were sprawled everywhere in the downstairs hallways, sleeping in wrinkled costumes, masks askew, snoring in chorus.

When I reached the beach, I spotted Jackrun and Babak flying out toward the water. Above me, partway up the cliffs, were caves. I shed my slippers and climbed up to one in my bare feet, settling in the cave's mouth, on the lip.

I leaned my head against the rough wall and closed my eyes. Had the king gone to the queen's bed to make a child tonight? If my Kuyawan medicine finally worked, if the queen conceived. If . . . if . . .

A roaring sound somewhere beyond the receding tide drew my eyes to the sea again. Babak breathed silken fire over the water. Below him, Jackrun swam in the illuminated ocean, moving through the shining light as if through fire. I knew how cold this sea was even in late August.

Babak flew up, folded his wings, and dove snout first into the bay with a splash. My jaw dropped. The dragons I knew never let themselves get wet. They could barely tolerate the rain, yet here was Babak diving, bathing. Letting his wings get wet.

I hugged my knees to my chest, watching two creatures of fire reveling in water. I am more earth element than water, but both played a part in my making. Father hadn't meant to take a young English wife. The Adan should be celibate. The elders had tried to banish my mother when she first came to our village, but he had fought for her. Water brought them together.

Mother and Father had gone out to wash in the river the morning after they met saving the life of a mother and her newborn twins. My mother was a practicing midwife back then, a woman with fiery red hair and freckles and strong opinions. She and the Adan had spent a long night of struggle and prayer over the laboring woman. Turning the babies gently; working carefully with the mother hour by hour. They were exhilarated when the twins were born alive and healthy. Delirious with joy, wonder, and weary beyond words, they walked down to the river. That summer morning, they joined together in the water and conceived me.

Babak lifted Jackrun from the sea, not on his back, but with his claws. He flew up, ten feet, fifteen, then dropped Jackrun with a splash. I smiled, hearing Jackrun's distant laughter when he surfaced. Tomorrow my work would begin again. Just for now, I would steal my hour of freedom as they were stealing theirs.

• • •

T
HE
NEXT
DAY
,
Lady Tess led five of us on horses through the forest toward Lake Eetha, with her youngest child, Kip, strapped securely to her front. In our party were Juliana, the girl with the mermaid costume who had danced with Jackrun at the ball, Queen Adela and Lady Olivia, one of Lady Tess's friends, a fey woman named Kaprecha, who had decided to join us at the last moment, and myself.

The queen looked jubilant. Lady Olivia told me the king had gone to her bedchamber last night.

“Race you, Lady O.,” Queen Adela said with glowing cheeks. They galloped for the next tree-topped hill.

I wasn't about to let Her Majesty take a fall. I raced after them, my healer's basket full of ointments, bandages, and suture supplies thumping against my spine. The others cantered behind us. I could not quite catch up with the queen, who laughed when she reached the top, winning the race with ease. She sat sure and commanding in the saddle when I pulled up next to her, my horse shaking her brown mane. No one had told me what a fine horsewoman she was.

Lady Tess took the lead again, guiding us through the whispering beeches. The woods were not as lush or as thickly overgrown as my forests back home. I missed the rich soil so riotous with life. We'd tamed small portions of the wild land to grow food, but the untouched places always thrilled me. Mother was the same; she'd explored the woods with Father when she could. The day she showed the Adan an herb she'd used in midwifery, he'd gathered it. Later he drew the contours of the leaves and wrote about it in his Herbal as she looked on. I felt a tug in my chest.

I could not let Her Majesty see me cry. I slowed my chestnut to be alone. The fey woman, Kaprecha, fell back with her charger and joined me.

“What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” I swiped my eyes.

“You were the water lily last night, weren't you?”

“Yes.”

Kaprecha swished her long black hair, sparkles flying out in all directions. Mine was a similar shade, but I could swish for the rest of my life and never send a single sparkle flying.

“The costume suited you.”

I'd liked it too, but it belonged to the fey. I had to give it back. It wasn't meant for a life of daily work such as mine. It was made for dancing.

“Water lilies span two worlds,” she said mysteriously. “They need the earth and a watery pool to grow.”

What did she mean by that?

“You spent time with the fox,” she added playfully. “I saw you dancing.”

I'd stepped on Jackrun's feet more than once. “I do not know how to dance very well, my lady.”

“Call me Kaprecha, Uma. I will teach you,” she offered.

“I doubt I'll have the time to learn, but thank you.”

“The queen keeps you busy,” she said in a hushed voice. “Your people and mine have a long history, sharing the islands peacefully together well before the English came.” Again she kept her voice low so the riders up ahead would not hear her.

I dropped back further still and said nothing to Kaprecha, who was looking to gossip behind the queen's back. She fell back again alongside me.

The alliance she spoke of was long ago. The fey had come to terms with the English in their own way. Dragonswood refuge was protected. We weren't as lucky.

“You had a name for us in your tongue.
Ateeyadain
?”

“
Ateeyudune
—the magical ones.”

“Yes, that's it. We stood together when the prince kicked one of our children. A despicable act. I heard you gasp. You also took offense.”

I gave a careful nod. So this was Butterfly Woman. The one who'd hissed.

“He was cruel, unthinking,” Kaprecha whispered, running her long fingers through her horse's mane. Three will-o'-the-wisps flitted down from the trees like bits of sparkling sunlight, and landed on Kaprecha's shoulders. “We were proud of how Jackrun handled the situation,” she went on. “The Son of the Prophecy was born to rule.” Kaprecha eyed me sideways, waiting to see my reaction. Even the wisps turned their tiny heads.

What was I supposed to say? That he would make a better, more just king than Desmond? Of course he would, but Kaprecha must know it was treasonous to say such a thing aloud. The fey might have plotted years ago for Lady Tess to marry Arden, but she'd made her choice and it was done. The Son of the Prophecy was born a duke's son, not the king's. Jackrun was powerful in his own right and had his own life to live without the fairies' interference.

I did not even dare to nod at her remark this time. I kept my chin in the air, my eyes fixed ahead of us. Juliana laughed at something Queen Adela said. I'd thought her dangerous last night in her sea woman's costume. I heard something else now; the liquid laugh of innocence, of a woman yet untried.

“Lady Tess will see that girl weds Jackrun if she has her way,” Kaprecha said.

The watery girl would drench his fire.
“She is completely wrong for him,” I blurted in a half whisper.

Kaprecha's brows shot up. “Do you think so?” she asked coyly.

I watched the horses on the trail ahead, hoping Kaprecha would leave me in peace if I ignored her.

“Look,” she said, pointing up through the branches. At first I didn't see what she was pointing at. Then graceful winged movements caught my eye. Our party entered a small meadow. The will-o'-the-wisps vanished, flying back into the wood. By the time we reined our horses in, Jackrun and Babak had winged much farther south. Babak sped over the distant forest, his tail undulating in the air.

“Jacken! Jacken!” Kip cried, waving his small hands and bouncing up and down. Lady Tess held him in the saddle in case he wriggled out of his straps. Jackrun was much too far away to hear his little brother's cry.

“Where is Jackrun going?” Queen Adela asked.

“To settle a land dispute down south,” Lady Tess said. “My husband cannot be everywhere at once. More and more he relies on Jackrun's negotiation skills in these matters.”

Queen Adela turned in her saddle. “You should make people come to you with their troubles, as my husband does.”

Lady Tess said, “Not everyone has the freedom or the means to travel, Your Majesty. Jackrun can reach them quickly on Babak. Besides, he likes settling disputes. He's quite good at it,” she added proudly.

“Really? He used to have a terrible temper when he was a boy.”

“He was nine years old on your last visit, Your Majesty,” the duchess said tersely.

Queen Adela leaned out and tickled Kip. “You don't have a bad temper, do you, Kip? You are my little sweetmeat.”

Kip giggled and squirmed. I dropped my eyes and rubbed my mare's neck. An infertile woman can attach herself to another woman's child, dreaming it is her own. Her Majesty was growing fond of Tess's little boy, perhaps too fond. It was good we were leaving in a few days.

We trotted across the meadow, the horse hooves crushing all too many wildflowers. Queen Adela rode on the duchess's left, in the mood for a merry argument. “Jackrun should not be flying off just now,” she said. “I expect him to spend time with my son the prince while we are here.”

Lady Tess took a moment to answer. “You are right, Your Majesty. The cousins should spend time together. They are the next generation of Pendragons to rule these islands when we are gone.”

“King Arden reigns over both islands,” corrected Queen Adela. “Your husband does not rule Dragon's Keep, he merely oversees the property for my husband.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Lady Tess looked like she would relish knocking Adela from her horse, fighting it out. Part of me wished she had the freedom to do it. But she reined her temper in, shot arrows with her eyes, and controlled her tongue.

“You should arrange an outing of some sort for the cousins while we are here,” Queen Adela said, egging Lady Tess on.

“An outing,” Lady Tess echoed noncommittally.

Lady Olivia and Juliana bent their heads toward the others. Kaprecha urged her stallion forward to join the conversation. I held back, catching the hint of honeysuckle in the soft breeze. The glassy air had turned the deep summer blue of Her Majesty's eyes.

No dragons flew above. Babak and his rider had long since vanished. No doubt Jackrun had grabbed the chance to put distance between himself and his cousin. The longer he stayed away, the better for them both. If these women had seen the two of them battling in my tower room, they would have known better than to force them on some cousinly outing.

I felt uneasy for the rest of the ride. My chestnut tossed her mane and pricked her ears, sensing my mood. I spoke softly to reassure her and calm myself at the same time. It didn't work.

• • •

L
ATE
IN
THE
day I walked with Her Majesty in the walled garden. She bent to sniff a pink rose. “The king will visit me again tonight,” she said with confidence. “Bring my potion up promptly after dinner.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“That's Your Majesty,” she corrected. After all the months under Lady Olivia's tutelage, I was still getting things wrong. Her cheeks were flushed from our long day's ride, but she didn't seem at all tired. Pippin raced ahead of us barking, starlings flitted up from the bushes. Queen Adela laughed. “Such a mighty hunter, Pippin!” He wagged his tail and raced back to us, tongue lolling out the side of his little mouth. “That's my little boy.”

I drank in the colorful plants, the bushes' fragrant summer breeze, grateful for Her Majesty's calm. I'd feared journeying to Dragon's Keep would worsen her health. I had to admit now, I'd been wrong. The trip had done her nothing but good.

A couple headed toward us from across the garden. Griffin and Tabitha walking very close together, though not arm in arm. Griffin bowed. Tabitha curtsied. “Your Majesty,” they said in unison. Queen Adela nodded and passed them by, heading for the fountain. “Do you have a lover back home?” she asked.