The Princess's Dragon (27 page)

Derek pulled himself off the ground and swiped a hand across his face, his eyes trained on the direction Elona disappeared. Never again would he let her use him; never again would he let her fool him. From that moment on, Derek hated Elona with a passion that far exceeded his childish infatuation for her.

She did marry her prince only a few rotas after the incident, against her father’s wishes that she wait until she was older. Both Elona and King Arctuor insisted on it, and she moved away from Ariva soon after, but he never forgot her and never forgave her.

Apparently, the wounds she inflicted with her casual cruelty still cut deep even after all these years. Derek decided he would avoid her as much as possible.

It shouldn’t be difficult; he almost never encountered the other princess, Sarai, or her brother, Sergen.

The day of the grand party arrived and the entire kingdom showed up to celebrate, despite the pall over the day because of the coming conflict with Halidor. All over the kingdom, in every province and town, jongleurs, minstrels, actors treading hastily erected stages, dancers, and food stalls cluttered the royal parks. Artisans tucked within home-sewn pavilions or walking amongst the crowds hawked their wares. The masses of people flowed among and around the revelry like a river, the flow stopped by partygoers who paused to purchase wares or take in a performance. Nowhere was the party larger or more frantically celebratory than within the capital city on the castle grounds and spilling out into the meadows. Here in Ariva, with the royal family in attendance, every last citizen poured out into the morning sunshine to take

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advantage of perhaps the last possible celebration before the entire kingdom plunged into a war it hadn’t provoked.

The king and queen watched the crowds ebb and swell around them from a royal dais within the castle courtyard. Many revelers came forth to receive blessings from the royal family. Some, despite having spent their entire life living in or near the capital city, had never been so close to their king and queen, and many had never seen the princesses or the young prince. It was no surprise that of all the sights of the festival, the royal dais proved the most popular, especially due to the newest member of the family, though none could actually see the newborn prince of Bladen where he squirmed and cooed within the swaddling held tight in his mother’s arms.

The princesses made quite a sight, both stunningly beautiful and garbed in their finest dresses; heavy headdresses laden with gemstones and gold hardly seemed to weigh upon them as they gracefully nodded and smiled at all who came before the dais to gawk. The young prince found dealing with the excessive attention more difficult and slumped sulkily in his chair, though he wore perfectly tailored and spotless clothing, and not a speck of lint or dust marred the burgundy brocade of his overcoat. His hair curled artfully over his youthful brow and many a village maiden sighed wistfully at his burgeoning good looks.

Everyone noted how handsome the royal family was, and the older citizens commented about how different it was from the Kking’s father and mother, who were not so well favored nor so blessed with offspring. To respect the jollity of the day, no one mentioned the one person missing from the dais—the youngest princess, who lacked the elegant beauty of her sisters but always had a beautiful smile that made people feel wonderful.

By midday, the royal family retired for a rest before the evening’s revelry began. Elona took her newborn son, who still had yet to be named in an official ceremony in Vivacel’s temple, and returned to her chambers where she snarled at the nurse who attempted to take the baby from her. She settled her son into his crib and sat at a small writing desk she had ordered moved from her sitting room.

She never could stand the afternoon nap; she had no need of such rest and indeed the enforced solitude and inactivity left her feeling even more restless.

She used the time making lists and plans, unwilling to fall to her habit of pacing for fear the swishing of her skirts would waken her baby. From time to 162

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time she would arise and stand at her window, which overlooked the courtyard, watching the busy humanity below. A tiny frown wrinkled her perfect brow as she noticed how shabby the courtyard appeared beneath all of the festival frippery. In places, the castle walls crumbled, the grass of the central statue of Ulrick lay dead and crispy, and the statue itself was dirty, stained and chipped.

The Citizens’ Force guards maintaining the peace seemed lazy and half-hearted even though they were only pulling a half shift and would be permitted to join the party themselves as soon as they got off duty.

Elona looked up and beyond the castle walls, imagining the city below and the outer walls of Ariva, which hadn’t been manned for centuries and still were not guarded. The gates to those walls had long since frozen open with rust.

The city itself fell into disrepair, the cobbled roads filled with more potholes than carriages, and the houses and tenements disintegrated into the street.

Shops and taverns were not regulated in any way and tax income was spotty and inconsistent. The only healers in the entire city belonged to the temple of Vivacel, and their talents were stretched thin dealing with just a small portion of the population that could afford the donations to the temple.

Dirty children led by unscrupulous street criminals ran the streets, picking the pockets of even the most wary citizens, and all the parks in the city were closed to any citizen not of noble rank. Worse, a miasma lay over the entire lower quarter of the city, commonly called the Gate District, where the only refuse management consisted of the ancient ditches that once served as a moat.

Elona had so many plans and ideas to improve the city, the castle, and the kingdom. “But, of course,” she thought as she turned away from the window,

“plans are no good without the power to carry them out.” And a princesses’

power, as she well knew, lay in her influence over the men who controlled things. Unbidden, a stray thought of the powerful and handsome Warlord arose in her mind, and she ruthlessly shoved it away.

She’d planned her entire life around increasing her own power and consequence, even when she was a child. She organized her life to optimize her opportunities. Granted, Galaden had been a mistake, but he hadn’t been her idea anyway. She toyed with Derek when they were children because she found him very pleasing to look at, though his devotion grew tiresome. She’d yet to experience a kiss as delicious as the only one he ever gave her. But she knew then, as she still understood, that he couldn’t give her the power she so

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craved. She’d made sacrifices, but she wasn’t going to wallow in regret; she would simply avoid him and ignore the fact that the sight of him still made her heart pound with desire, especially considering how much he’d changed. She never remembered him being so … dangerous or ruthless.

It didn’t matter; he was not for her, and she’d accepted that when she was still a child. She wasn’t going to change her plans now just because he filled out his uniform very nicely. Even though right now she remained powerless, she had no intention of staying that way. As she stroked the downy cheek of her son, she started making new plans, knowing that a mother has more influence over a man than any other woman.

Within his council chamber, the king did not relax, as filled with restlessness as his eldest daughter and perhaps for the same reason: the state of his kingdom and its future. He gave in to his need to pace, unconcerned with its effect on the other people in the room, and indeed, the guards who provided his sole company paid little attention to what was a familiar sight. Instead, they jumped to attention when the messenger knocked softly and, at a nod from the king, who moved back to his chair at the head of the council table, clicked the secret latch to allow the messenger in.

The reedy man, little more than a boy, hurried within the chamber and bowed low to the king. His young face, dirtied by a hard ride, displayed worry and fear.

“What brings you before us, messenger?”

The King noted the clothing the boy wore, an embroidered patch on his tunic sleeve revealing him as a member of the messenger’s guild in Passton, a half cycle’s ride from the border checkpoint. He felt the stress that constantly plagued him gnaw deeper into his vitals and struggled to maintain a semblance of calm and control in front of this boy terrified by the message he must pass on to his liege.

“Your Highness, I have come from Passton. A messenger from Blade’s Edge arrived there but three cycles ago, and I set out immediately.”

“What message does this Bladen bring?”

“He claims Prince Galaden sent him, and that the prince demands the return of his wife and child immediately. Failure to return them safely would be viewed as an act of war against Bladen, and they would ally against Ariva if that happened.”

The king resisted the urge to rub his face with weariness and instead 164

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demanded, “How is it that they know of Elona’s arrival a mere two cycles after she appeared at our castle gates?”

“According to the prince she left a missive informing him of her destination.

Apparently she claimed that her parents insisted she return to Ariva despite the danger of the trip.”

The king summoned a guard and ordered him, “Send for Elona immediately, as well as my wife and the Warlord. We will meet them here.”

“Here, Your Highness, in the council room?” The guard looked askance; no woman had ever crossed into the council chambers during the entire time he’d been in service to the king.

“Yes, here! Now go, you are wasting time.” The guard scurried out. The king turned back to the messenger.

“Galaden is claiming that Elona’s presence here is an act of war. By what right does he make such claim, since the princess is still our daughter and is certainly permitted to visit us on occasion?”

“The messenger from Blade’s Edge claims that due to the dangerous political climate, it is believed that the royal family of Ariva knowingly put both the prince’s wife and unborn child in danger by demanding their presence at this time, and they feel that the purpose behind this must have been an intended slight toward the Bladen royal family.”

“That is utter nonsense! This will be taken care of immediately; we shall simply escort Elona and the baby back to Blade’s Edge and be done with it.

She can return to finish her visit once the danger has passed.” The king prayed silently that there would be a kingdom for her to return to.

The queen and Elona entered the council chamber followed by the guard who had fetched them. Both women looked harried and cast the king equal looks of startled concern when they were ushered into the chamber. A few moments of strained silence later, Lord Derek entered, his face hard and expressionless as he took in the occupants of the room; not even a flicker of surprise altered his stony expression at the presence of the two women. He bowed to the king, queen, and princess and stood until the king waved him to his seat.

“Now, we can begin. This messenger brings news from Blade’s Edge,” the king said, watching Elona as she twitched in surprise. “Apparently, the prince is less than pleased that his wife has made this dangerous journey with his heir.” Elona bowed her head and remained focused on her clasped hands. The

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king didn’t trust her assumed meekness and knew he was about to fight the first battle of this upcoming war right here in the council chamber. Everyone remained silent, including the uncomfortable messenger, still standing before the king. Lord Derek watched calmly; dispassionately he noted the look of fear on Elona’s face just before she lowered her eyes to her lap. The king continued.

“Prince Galaden demands the return of his wife and child immediately.” Elona jumped up, her expression livid, while her mother gasped in dismay.

“I will not go back! I refuse!” She stood, fists clenched before her father, just as he expected she would.

“You will return, whether you like it or not. You have little choice in the matter, nor do any of us. Prince Galaden believes our keeping you here is an act of war against them.”

“That is madness! There is no reason for him to think that! It is simply a ploy to get me back under his control.” The princess stopped, wishing she could take back those last words and decided to change tactics. “Father, please understand. I will certainly return to my husband as soon as my son is old enough to travel, but we cannot travel now; it is far too dangerous a road, even without the impending war. You wouldn’t send a helpless babe off to his certain doom, would you?”

“Of course not. We will naturally see to it that you and the child are in a well-appointed carriage with a full entourage of nurses, healers, and maids, as well as an entire platoon of soldiers to ensure your safety on the roads.” The king smiled, certain that she would find no argument to counter his assurances.

He wasn’t expecting an attack from a different source.

“I will not let her go!” The queen stood and put her arm protectively around Elona, who was marshalling new arguments in her head. She cast a surprised glance at her mother, startled by the support. The queen faced off against her husband, her expression glowering with righteous indignation. “I have already lost one child; will you take from me another, just to satisfy a cruel and greedy man?”

“We have no choice, my queen. Bladen will join the war against us if we do not return Elona and the babe at once. I cannot risk it, or there will be no sanctuary for her or any of us anywhere in Ariva.” The king willed his wife and his daughter to understand his position. He hoped he had got through 166

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to them, as they both fell momentarily silent, but he doubted it as he could practically see the wheels turning behind his daughter’s eyes. Once again, a new front opened up against him as Lord Derek stood and addressed the king, virtually ignoring the two women in front of him.