Dragon's Treasure, page 5
“Servants are treated that way,” I tell him. Humans are treated that way, I don’t say.
How many humans did the mad king kill? I doubt I’ll find much sympathy there.
“My mate will not be treated in such a way,” he insists firmly, leaving no room for argument. “The finest bed in the castle. The biggest, too.”
“Why would it need to be big?”
“Because I fully intend to be in that bed every night you’d have me.”
I look him over, dozens of times larger than me. “I don’t think you’d fit in even the biggest bed I’ve ever seen.”
He actually chuckles at that. I think it’s a chuckle, at least; the deep, rasping noise sounds more like a rockslide than any laughter. “My human form, treasure.”
“Then why would it need to be so big?” I try to picture his human form. I can’t quite make the red scales fade from my view. I’m sure he would be large; I can’t imagine a dragon being small. Would he be handsome? Would he look like his brother, pinch-faced and pale?
I’ve heard the other humans around the castle talking about the people they find attractive, the ones they want to spend time with. I’ve firmly ignored those conversations for years. But now all I can do is think about what his human form might look like. Would he be beautiful?
“I’m sure they do, treasure, but you’ve never known the passion of a dragon. We’ll need…space. You’ll thank me for it later.”
I flush when I catch his meaning. “We’ll—oh.”
Intimacy. He’s talking about intimacy. I’ve heard enough whispers, overheard too many comments to not understand. I just never imagined it applying to me.
I’ve known better than to get involved with anyone. Too many girls have been left behind, hurt, unwanted after one night. My own existence is proof enough of that.
And here is a king, telling me we’ll need a big bed so he can properly make love to me.
Why? Is it because I’m the only person he’s seen in years? Surely if he really believes he’ll be free of this prison someday, he’ll find someone more appropriate to his station.
I remind myself of this, because his sweet words and piercing eyes are starting to make me forget. For a brief moment, I entertain the thought of him holding me in some over-large bed.
I clear my throat, trying to get some semblance of control back. “You’re…very confident that we’ll have this future,” I say. A diplomatic way to say you’re very confident you’ll get free.
“I would never dare be anything else,” he says. “Not with your future on the line. Make no mistake, Leana; I have not lied to you. I will make a plan to free us. And I will give you the life you’ve always deserved.”
Deserved. What a ridiculous word. What do I deserve?
“You need to eat,” he says when I can’t muster a response. “I can provide that much, at least, even if the bed has to wait.”
I shake my head. “If I keep eating regular meals, your food will run out far too soon. I hope they send someone to resupply you in a week, but I’m not sure—”
“If the food runs out, then I will simply not eat,” he interrupts. “My body is large and takes quite a lot of energy when I need to really use it. As you can see, I barely move down here, so even a little bit of food can last me longer. But even so, I will go hungry before you miss a single meal, treasure.”
The words pierce through the mental defenses I just built like a knife through butter. He doesn’t need to say anything like this. There is no benefit for him, nothing he can win by saying such sweet words.
I can’t decide if that makes the words more or less likely to be sincere.
I bite my lip. I’ve never argued with royalty before. But I’ve also never been presented with such a ridiculous order, either.
Besides, the prince once told me it was my task to care for his uncle and keep him alive. So in a way, when I cross my arms and plant my feet, I still am following orders. “If you don’t eat, I won’t eat. I’ll not have you hungry, and you need more food than I do.”
“Stubborn human,” he says, and it sounds almost approving. “We’ll both eat. And we’ll hope my insufferable family remembers that there are two of us here now, and deems it worth their time to feed us.”
He sits up, and it’s only then that I realize how comforting his warmth has been. I’m not used to feeling cold, given my own fire, but when he leaves, it’s like a blanket has been ripped away.
He does return quickly enough, although he doesn’t wrap himself around me again, and I don’t ask. Instead, he presents me with a meal, bread and the drumstick of a chicken.
“Thank you,” I say as I take it, once again touched by his insistence on taking care of me.
He’s mad, I remind myself again. Mad and lonely. Surely that explains it.
“I have thought of a plan,” he pronounces when I am part way through eating. “Or the beginnings of one.”
“Oh?” I ask, pausing to give him my full attention. “What’s your plan?”
“How long is the journey back to the castle from here?”
“Just over an hour. Why?”
“So close?” He asks, almost to himself. I want to argue that it’s not close at all, not when I have a pack filled with food to contend with, but I take his meaning. He could fly there in minutes, if he was free. “I’m going to send you back.”
“I don’t want to go,” I protest before I can think better of arguing with a king. “I…please don’t send me.”
His chains rattle, and then he growls. I flinch—I shouldn’t have argued with a king—but then I see him huff and lower himself so he’s pressed against me once more.
Was he trying to reach for me? To comfort me?
My heart softens a bit. I don’t want a dragon reaching for me. There are many reasons why not, not the least being the lethal claws. But the gesture, if well-intended, is a kindness I didn’t expect.
Between the food, and the words, and the desire to comfort…I have to remind myself yet again that trusting a dragon, and a royal one at that, is a poor plan.
“I will never send you away, treasure,” he promises. “Especially not when going back is dangerous. But I don’t have a full plan to save you from this asinine war yet. So here are my thoughts: I am sending you back to my nephew with demands.”
“Demands?” I barely squeak out, and he rubs his large head against my side.
“My demands. Let him believe you’re making progress. That I said I’d give you the mirror in exchange for small comforts here. I will not have my mate live in the darkness, even if you have fire in your blood. And I won’t have you go hungry, or sleep on the ground.” He rubs his head along me again, and I relax into the touch, feeling the comfort intended by the gesture. “I don’t have a full plan yet, treasure. I will think of one. In the meantime, this will provide you some small comforts, and lead him to think you’re making progress, buying us time.”
I think it over. He has a point—Prince Noctere is less likely to send soldiers here to demand I go to join the military if he thinks I’m making progress towards his goal. “What’s on your list, then?”
9. Leana
I have to reject several of the items on his list. I can’t ask the prince to provide silk bed sheets or a mattress. He’d know immediately that they aren’t for the king, because a fully turned dragon has no use for such things. And there would be no way to explain why the king wishes for me to have such ridiculous luxuries.
Arguing with King Osir feels like fighting against a mountain, or perhaps a storm; I am too small in front of him, my voice matters too little in the discussion, and I would never attempt such a thing. But I can’t ask Prince Noctere for a bed, or silk, or the diamond bracelets he requests later.
So I summon up my voice to protest. “Your Majesty, I can’t…” I say tremulously, voice weak and faltering.
But he doesn’t shout over me, or command. I find him listening, and while he argues back, he doesn’t stop me from responding. And, at last, he gives in.
To tell the truth, I think he asks for the diamond bracelets just to make me argue with him again.
What kind of king wants servants to argue with him? A lonely one, maybe.
When at last I have a working list, one we both can tolerate, I prepare to leave to go back to the castle, already thinking over what I’ll say to the prince.
“Come back to me soon,” the king commands in his deep, rumbly voice.
“I will,” I promise, wishing I could touch him, reassure us both. Which is a foolish idea, of course. He knows I’ll be back because he’s my safety right now, and because he’s a king and he’s commanded it.
And I shouldn’t want to touch him, of course. I can’t forget that.
“Be safe,” he adds.
“I always am.” And with one more long look at him, I begin the journey from his prison.
∞∞∞
The walk is long, and hot, but it’s far easier without a pack on my back.
When I make it to the castle, I’m shown inside rather quickly.
“Leana,” Prince Noctere says, sweeping into the room I’ve been led to. “You’re back quickly. Was my uncle so easy to break?”
I raise an eyebrow at his wording. “You said I wasn’t a torturer, your highness.”
He waves a hand as he sits. “You know what I mean. So—where is it?”
I bite my lip; King Osir spoke with such confidence when outlining his plan, and now I need to have my own confidence.
But the reality is, making demands of royalty isn’t something I do. I would never dream of it, before yesterday.
“The former king has sent me with a list of demands,” I tell him, doing my best to keep my voice soft and non-threatening, but also firm, so he knows my visit is sincere. I square my shoulders but can’t make myself look him fully in the eyes. “He wants better living conditions in exchange for the mirror.”
He huffs, leaning back in the chair to the point of almost reclining. It’s very unprincely behavior, and I can almost hear his childhood nanny scolding him for it. I keep the thought firmly to myself.
“He should consider himself grateful that he has living conditions at all,” he grumbles.
“Nevertheless,” I say, making myself be brave enough to press forward, “I don’t know how to get the location of the mirror from him without this.”
He stares at me for a long moment, then seems to deflate. Exhaustion clouds his face, his eyes heavy as he nods. “Let’s hear it, then. We can’t afford to lose this chance.”
I recite the list we agreed on. Most of it is simple things, like more torches and double the order of food—even though I reminded him I couldn’t hope to eat enough to require doubling the food—but some of it is the type of demands one might expect of a king. I told him silk bed sheets were too obviously for me and not him, but he does demand wine to drink and books for me to read to him.
Prince Noctere raises an eyebrow. “How lucky for him we sent a servant who can read.”
“He asked, and I told him I could,” I say, which isn’t entirely untrue, as we had the conversation well over a year ago. “He says he misses stories.”
“Well, stories are all he’ll ever have, so I suppose we can spare some damn books. And some soldiers to help you carry it all over.”
I bite my lip for a moment, debating. I’ve gotten what I was sent for, and now we’ll at the very least have enough to eat and torches to light the cell. But I look at the prince who once felt like my friend, who has threatened me with the front lines, and take yet another risk.
“What does this mirror do?” I ask, then hasten to explain. “He’s reluctant, your highness, so maybe, I thought, if I knew, I could—I don’t know. Convince him of the greater purpose, perhaps.”
Maybe I could. Maybe I could convince him to give me the mirror. Maybe I could convince him to see things Prince Noctere’s way.
If only Prince Noctere can convince me, first.
“From what I understand, my uncle is immune to the concept of a greater purpose,” he says. That doesn’t sound true at all to me, but I don’t argue.
“I’ll tell you this story quickly. It’s not a story for public consumption, but why not? I already know you can keep your mouth shut.”
I suppress my wince at that, but he’s not wrong, so I just listen.
“The mirror was a fable, essentially. But my uncle used to have a…talent, we’ll say, for finding items. He liked the research and he liked the hunt. The more powerful, or dangerous, or obscure, the better. So he went after the mirror.”
“But what does it do?” I press. “Your highness?”
“The mirror is enchanted to show you at your most powerful. If you can look into it, you might see the path to obtaining power for yourself.”
The pieces of this story begin to make sense. Why it was such a divisive element in our nation’s history. Why Prince Noctere wants it, and why King Osir doesn’t think he should give it up.
I wish I could say Prince Noctere could be trusted with it, but I’m beginning to understand King Osir’s thought that no one can be.
What isn’t clear is what exactly happened when King Osir found it. He was imprisoned over the mirror, and I’d always heard he’d murdered several of his brothers and several hundred humans before he was finally imprisoned. What did he see in the mirror that led to that?
How can a man see his most powerful self and somehow immediately end up imprisoned under the earth for a century?
Prince Noctere leans forward in his chair. “We need that mirror, Leana. It could make the difference in this war.”
I nod, studying him, with bags under his eyes and skin almost as pale and pinched as his father. He’d always looked more like his mother than his father, but this threat of war is bringing out the worn-down look his father always had.
We think of him as a prince, as a dragon, as a fierce and formidable creature. But the truth is that Prince Noctere is barely older than me. And this kingdom has been left for him to shoulder alone for too long.
“You look tired,” I venture, unsure of my welcome but needing to say it anyways.
We were friends, once. Does he ever think about that?
“War is tiring,” he says simply, brushing me off. “Find me a way to end it, Leana. That’s your job. Leave me with everything else.” He stands, and I do too. “You’ll have your supplies within the hour. Don’t disappoint me, please.”
There’s a threat lingering under his words, but I hear the desperation too.
10. Osir
I actually enjoy arguing with my mate over the items I send her to the castle for. She rejects several of the items out of hand. First tremulously, like she can’t believe she would contradict me, but gaining confidence when nothing bad happens to her.
I confess that by the end, I add ridiculous items to the list on purpose, just to try to hear her argue with me more, just so she can see that she can argue without consequence.
My little mate is a queen who has been told she’s inconsequential for too long. And that stops now. She will learn to argue and demand and present her perspective and make others listen, especially when she knows she’s right.
Even if I’m still upset that she refuses to demand a proper bed for this cell, I’m proud of her for sticking to her convictions.
A proper mate would be able to kiss their treasure goodbye before a journey, but a dragon’s mouth should go nowhere near my mate, so I refrain, just telling her to be careful and come back to me.
I listen to her footfalls all the way out of the cave, and then am left in darkness and silence. The natural state of my world for a century feels like it’s choking me after just one day of her presence. But I have to push myself beyond that.
I need a plan. We can’t trick the prince forever.
∞∞∞
I’m no closer to a solution to our problem as the day passes. My mate could perhaps steal a key to my chains, but I’d be foolish to count on that. Most likely, the key was long ago melted down and re-forged into something else, and even if it wasn’t, they would never give her access to it.
I could perhaps bargain with my nephew, offer to win his war for him and seat him on the throne. I would get some sick pleasure in dethroning my brother, but then I’d be left an outcast dragon with no throne, no home, and a mate to care for. It’s not an impossible situation, but it wouldn’t allow me to show my treasure how she should be treated, so it gets moved to the bottom of my list.
And there’s still the option of convincing Leana to run away, to vanish and take my hoard with her to secure her future. The thought alone hurts, but my needs shouldn’t be the driving force behind my decisions. If I thought I could convince Leana to do it, I would, and damn the consequences to me.
It’s still a viable plan, and I keep it in mind. I will send her away from me forever, I will accept my lot of rotting under this earth, if it means she will be safe and free to live a life.
I think of the day a century ago where I found the mirror, where I eagerly looked into it. I’d cracked the frame slightly with my strength and eagerness, but it hadn’t affected the glass any. I could still see the future before me, clear as anything.
And the future was a world aflame. The light in the mirror was so bright I couldn’t hope to see anything else. That’s the kind of flame that could burn away chains and this hole in the ground and my brother and an entire invading army.
It’s a kind of flame brighter than any dragon I’ve ever heard of being able to wield, unnaturally bright. If it showed up in the mirror, then it must mean I’ll find it within me someday. But it’s been a century, and I still have no idea how to summon that type of fire.
I hear the grate creaking open, and then footsteps, shaking me from my thoughts. I can pick out Leana’s steps even from here, even over the absolutely thundering noise of whoever is following her, and I listen with pleasure as she draws closer.
