The Dragon (Creasan #2)

The last time Thea had seen the queen was right before Carac and Merek were to be beheaded. The last interaction they’d had, Thea had insinuated she was a whore with her delightful rhyme.

The woman standing in front of her seemed like an entirely different person from the one she’d met in the dining hall. There was a coarseness about her, a toughness there hadn’t been before. And yet the one thing that remained the same was a sadness that seemed to emanate from her very bones. Thea couldn’t remember if she’d looked this sad last time, but now Ana seemed to be on the verge of crying, even as she tipped her chin up and stared the dragon down.

Aestus frowned at the queen and shook his head dismissively. Tell her this mission is meant to remain secret—

Unknowingly, Ana cut Aestus off by saying, “If you are to sail Leitham Sea, you will need a sturdy ship. You will find none stronger than the king’s, which are currently at my disposal. I will only allow you to use them if I am with you.”

Thea turned to Aestus, expecting another immediate dismissal, but he said nothing. Gave no reaction. He just looked at her. Thea couldn’t tell if he was debating an answer or if he was dumbfounded by the proposition.

Ana continued, “The kingdom will be in the best of hands if Aestus is to remain here. It will not need me.”

“Ana, you are not a fighter,” Fendrel said, shaking his head in confusion. “You will only get yourself killed. If you want to rule—“

Ana did not even look at Fendrel, did not acknowledge his presence at all. She brought her eyes to Thea’s, her brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears and determination. “I want to go.”

Thea blinked in surprise at the pleading in her gaze. Pleading with Thea. She did not know why the queen felt as if she needed Thea’s permission, and she was unsure how to answer. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

Ana blew out a deep breath and stared into Thea’s eyes even harder. “Before your return,” she said, voice wavering, “Favian executed my son.”

Fendrel staggered at the news, grabbing onto Brom’s shoulder to keep from falling. “Althalos is dead?”

Ana’s chest rose and fell rapidly, but her eyes were locked with Thea’s.

Thea suddenly understood the increased sadness she had recognized in the queen. Thea hadn’t had the privilege of giving birth, but she had seen the agony in her own mother when Lief had died. Instant sympathy welled up in Thea. The first real feeling Thea had felt since returning to the palace.

Ana’s words were hardly audible when she whispered, “I can’t stay here.”

And Thea saw it in her eyes. She really could not stay here. It took Thea less than a second to decide, “She comes with us.”

Very well, replied Aestus as Ana’s shoulders slumped in relief. You may take with you the manpower you think you will require. But as I said before, discretion.

“We will need time to prepare,” Thea said. “We need rest and supplies.”

You must leave immediately.

“Thea is right,” Fendrel said, though it looked as if it pained him to admit. “Our journey to you was difficult and long. We need to recuperate if there is any chance of success.”

Aestus sighed, blowing Thea’s hair back from her face. How long?

“A week,” Fendrel answered, and Thea nodded. By then, they should have everything they needed and the strength to actually go.

This requires urgency, Aestus responded. I will give you three days.

Thea started, “Aestus, that is not enough—“

Three days, he said more firmly.

Fendrel and Thea exchanged a look. Her legs were still throbbing, and the thought of doing anything at all in three days made her feel drained already. But she knew it was doable. If it was as urgent as Aestus believed it to be, if it was what Aestus wanted, they could do it.

You best start preparing now.

Isolde returned with the rest of The Source to their home in the forest, and everyone immediately dispersed to their beds. Isolde saw Thea give her mother a hug before she too disappeared into her bedroom. Isolde longed to collapse on her mattress and never come out again, but there was something she knew she must do first.

She found him in her tent, just as she thought she would. He was sitting on the edge of his mattress with his elbows on his knees. Waiting for her, she knew.

The moment she stepped through the tent’s flaps, his head popped up and a relieved sigh burst out of him. He ran to her and wrapped her in a tight hug. “Thank Aestus, you’re all right,” he breathed.

Isolde hugged him back and smiled. “Hi, Janshai.”

Her fiancé pulled back to meet her eyes, cupping her cheeks. “Are you injured?” he asked as his gaze immediately locked on her wounded shoulder.

A pang of guilt socked her in the stomach as he fussed over her. There was no reason she should feel guilty; she hadn’t done anything wrong. And yet, Merek’s simple declaration of “Me” that night in the cave echoed through Isolde’s mind, and she couldn’t help feeling as if she had actually done something awful.

She swallowed hard as she took in Janshai’s features. He was different from Merek in every way. Where Merek was all solid muscle, Janshai was lean and lithe. Where Merek’s lips were always turned up in amusement, Janshai’s eyes pierced her with a seriousness that never faded. Where Merek was attractive in a warrior’s way, Janshai held something of a dancer’s grace about him.

And then Isolde’s stomach turned over again with her guilt for feeling the need to compare them at all.

She assured him, “I’m fine. We’re all fine. I promise.”

Janshai nodded and stepped back from her, waiting for her to answer his question before he even asked it.

So she did. “We found Aestus.”

Janshai’s eyes widened. “And?”

“And he killed the king.”

He staggered back. “What? The king is dead?”

Isolde nodded. “But that is not the important part.”

Janshai coughed a laugh as he sat back down on his mattress. “Aestus help me then. What’s wrong?”

She tried her best to smile as she sat on her mattress across from him. “In return for his help with the king, Aestus has asked that we find and vanquish his brother.”

“His brother?” Janshai shook his head. “I thought Malum was dead.”

“We all did. Evidently, he’s not.” She took another breath. Then she blurted, “I’m going to Qamizeh.”

She’d thought Janshai’s eyes couldn’t get any wider, but she’d been wrong. At the mention of the southern kingdom, his lids practically disappeared from gaping so hard.

“That’s where Malum is,” she explained quickly. “Aestus will only give his blessing to the person who vanquishes Malum.”

His mouth opened but he was still searching for the words. “I…”

“I can stay here if you want.”

He paused.

Isolde moved from her mattress to his, holding his hand in hers. “I can tell her I don’t feel well or that my shoulder hasn’t healed enough to travel again. She would never make me go if I didn’t want to.”

Janshai’s eyes took on a far away look as he stared straight ahead. “Qamizeh…” he murmured, almost as if he were savoring the sound of it on his tongue.

Isolde studied him carefully. She didn’t know what his reaction would be to such news and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Did he need comfort? Alone time? She couldn’t tell. So she didn’t say anything. She just held onto his hand as if that could anchor the both of them.

When Janshai did speak again, his voice was very soft. “Is it possible—“ he began but cut himself off. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Could I come with you?”

Isolde blinked. She thought she’d been prepared for whatever response he would eventually have, but she had not been prepared for that. “But I thought…”

“Yes, I know, but…” He turned fully toward her, taking both her hands in his. “Do you think Thea would let me?”

Isolde thought it over. She knew the mission was supposed to be secret, but the queen was already coming. No doubt Thea would have told her mother, and Isolde doubted Maerwynn would let Thea go on another voyage without her. Surely Isolde’s fiancé wouldn’t be too much to ask.

But Merek would be on the ship…

Isolde began, “I’m not sure—“

“Five years, Izzy,” he said, gripping her hands harder. “Five years.”

“It would be dangerous,” she reminded him. “If you were recognized—“

“I won’t be,” he assured. “You know I won’t. Do I look anything like the exile you found?”

Isolde examined his face. His hair was blond now, instead of brown. The beard that had covered his face was no more, making him look much younger than he had, even years later. And of course, his name was different now. No longer of the Tamilen name Sepi, now the Steokar name of Janshai. And his tan skin had paled in the perpetually wintery Creasan. It would be hard for anyone to recognize him now.

“Izzy,” Janshai pressed, “I was exiled for theft. Not murder or some other scandalous crime. No one will have paid much attention to my face. I will be safe.”

He was right. Isolde knew he was right. But… “Your family will know you.”

“And they will tell no one.” He held her hands to his chest, clutching them so hard that they shook. “Please, Izzy. It is my home.”

“But if you return, won’t this have been for nothing?”

Janshai frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This,” she repeated, nodding toward her hands in his. “The engagement. I did it to protect you, to solidify your place as a Creasan. If you go back to Qamizeh—“

“I will return with you,” he promised.

“Not if you see her.”

She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but she saw the pain that just the thought of her brought him. Isolde held no animosity or jealousy toward Janshai for his feelings. They both knew their engagement was for the protection of Janshai’s identity and not bound by any romantic feelings, though they had grown to care for each other over time. But it would be true torture for Janshai to see the woman he had loved all those years ago and walk away from her to return to this life. Isolde knew him well enough to know it would be nearly impossible.

But her heart cried in sympathy at the look of torment in his eyes at the mere mention of her.

“Still,” he said with a rough voice, “I would like to see my mother and father. My sisters and brother. To see my home. Please, Izzy.”

He looked up at her then, with his deep brown eyes that were nearly black and she felt her hesitation crumble. Yes, Merek would be there. Yes, Janshai would be at risk. Yes, there were a million things that could go wrong. But when would he ever have another opportunity to sail the Leitham Sea in a ship he was certain wouldn’t sink at the first storm?

And Isolde had kept him safe for five years. After he had saved her and Merek’s life, she had vowed to keep Janshai safe until she died. That applied whether or not they were in Creasan.

So she let out a resigned sigh and said, “I’ll speak to Thea. We leave in three days.”

Janshai’s face broke into a wide smile that lit up the entire tent. He yanked her into a hug, squeezing hard. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at his excitement and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He pulled back, pressing a kiss to her cheek. A platonic gesture, a peck quick enough for a sister.

But it just so happened that the flap of their tent opened at that exact moment, and Isolde turned to see Merek standing there.

“Shit, I didn’t realize—” he exclaimed and cut himself off as he took a quick step back. His next words were spoken in a rush, “I didn’t realize you were—Sorry, it wasn’t important. Good night, you two.”

“Wait,” she said, feeling her face heat up. Janshai’s hands were still held in hers, and it felt wrong. But she knew she couldn’t show that so she stayed perfectly still, calling after Merek, “it’s all right, you can—“

But he’d already dropped the flap and hurried off.

Isolde cringed so hard her face ached.

Janshai looked at her. “Is he going too?”

She nodded.

There was a beat of silence on his end before he offered, “If you trust him—“

But Isolde already knew where he was going with that, and she stopped him before he could suggest it. “No,” she said sharply. “Anyone who knows about our arrangement is put in danger and the risk to you heightens. No,” she repeated, shaking her head and convincing herself as much as him, “he cannot know.”

Thea was already lying in bed by the time her mother’s shouting subsided. She pulled the covers tighter over her shoulders and let loose the longest yawn.

It infuriated Maerwynn and she sat on the floor beside Thea’s mattress. “Are my fear and concern boring you?”

“No, mama,” Thea said. For the first time in she didn’t know how long, Thea relaxed, letting her body sink into the mattress. “I’m just tired.”

Maerwynn tilted her head to the side as she studied her daughter. Thea hadn’t told her about her father yet, hadn’t had the energy nor the courage to do so. As of yet, Thea’s mind was blissfully blank, and she intended to keep it that way for as long as she could. But she had mentioned—after their emotional reunion—that she would be departing for Qamizeh in three days. And now Maerwynn was refusing to leave her room.

“This time I am going with you,” Maerwynn stated.

Thea breathed through her nose. “It is too dangerous.”

“All the more reason.”

“No—“

“I am an expert navigator—the only sea navigator you’ve got—so yes, you do need me.” When Thea opened her mouth to rebuttal, Maerwynn interrupted, “You can argue all you want but I will fight my way onto that boat if I have to. You know I will. I’ll even cut down the bloody prince, if it comes to that.”

Thea chuckled softly. Aestus, she’d missed her mother. If her arms weren’t practically paralyzed, she’d give her the hundredth hug of the night.

Maerwynn smiled as she reached forward and brushed a strand of Thea’s hair back. “Oh, darling, you need to bathe.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that, mama.”

Maerwynn snorted. “Fine. I’ll talk to you in the morning. We can start planning our route.” She rose from the floor and headed toward the door.

An intense fear came over Thea at that moment, one she could honestly say she had never experienced. One full of loneliness and isolation. Somehow, the dark that had descended while she’d readied for bed seemed so much more oppressive if she was alone. “Wait!” she called.

Maerwynn paused at the door, glancing at her over her shoulder.

“Could you…stay with me?” Thea asked hesitantly.

Her mother frowned hard and hurried back into the room. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling all right? Were you hurt somewhere I couldn’t see?”

Thea grabbed her mother’s fretful hands in hers. She hoped Maerwynn couldn’t see the way her bottom lip trembled as she whispered, “Please, mama.”

Maerwynn stilled at the tiny voice, a child’s voice. One she’d not heard in several years. She looked into Thea’s eyes, and she knew her mother could see the tears she was desperately trying to hold at bay. Maerwynn’s gaze softened and she climbed onto the mattress beside Thea, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Shh,” she murmured into Thea’s hair, “it’s all right, my darling. It’s all right.”

It was like those words were the last blow to Thea’s dam. Her tears came, harder than she’d ever dared to let them. Heaving sobs burst out of her and she clung to her mother like she was her only lifeline. Maerwynn clutched her tightly to her chest and rocked back and forth, making soothing noises the whole while.

That made Thea cry harder. She hadn’t allowed herself to need her mother since just after Lief died. In her mind, her mother had become her advisor and friend, but no longer was she her parent. Because Thea Wyvern did not need a “mommy”.

Except now she did. She very much did. And Maerwynn was more than prepared to be that for her. She welcomed the show of emotion from her daughter, emotions Thea had buried so deep within herself that they wracked her body with their need to escape.

She cried and cried until her tears soaked through Maerwynn’s shirt, until her throat felt raw. Until sleep forced her to stop.

Fendrel threw open Ana’s door and marched right in to find her sitting on the edge of her bed, still in the filthy dress she was wearing earlier, and staring into space. She made no noise but tears ran down her cheeks.

The prince felt his anger melt away. He sat gingerly beside her. “I’m so sorry, Ana,” he whispered sincerely.

She shook her head slowly. “How could he do that to me?” she breathed. “How could he be so cruel?”

Fendrel wished he could give her a good answer for why his brother had had to kill her son. That he could tell her things would get better, tell her he knew how she felt because he’d lost his nephew, too. He wished he could tell her there was a purpose to the things his brother had done. But he knew none of that was true. The best he could do was, “He was sick.”

She guffawed and fixed her eyes on the ceiling as another tear rolled down her cheek. “Why are you here, Fendrel?”

He let out a deep breath, his shoulders lowering. He felt horrible bringing it up when she was so clearly suffering, but the paranoia had taken root in his mind and he had to voice it for his own sanity. “Why are you coming on this trip?”

Ana’s brows furrowed and she looked at him for the first time since he’d entered her room. “Pardon?”

“You know you are not equipped for it. You don’t have the physical skills nor is it in your political favor. So why are you going?”

“I already told the girl,” she answered. “I cannot stay in this palace.”

“You aren’t trying to…?” Fendrel let his words trail off as he studied her brown eyes.

She scoffed. “You think I’m going to try to slay a dragon just to…what? Make sure you’re not king?”

Well, when she put it like that, Fendrel sounded ridiculous. Still, he’d had to ask.

Ana turned fully toward him. “How dare you barge into my bedroom while I am grieving the loss of my only son to accuse me of such a thing. Get out.”

“Ana, I didn’t mean—“

“You know, you Lances are all the same.” Her lips curled in disgust as she looked at him. “You are all narcissists. No one cares enough about you, Prince Fendrel of Creasan, brother to a murdered mad king. My thoughts are consumed by my dead child. Though I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you cannot grasp the concept of caring for another person.”

Fendrel winced at her harsh words and tried, “Ana—“

“You are not king yet,” she snapped. “I am still your queen, and you will address me as such.” She crossed her arms and stood, glaring down at him. “Perhaps you were right to worry. If it were up to me, a Lance would never rule this kingdom again.”

The prince blinked in surprise at the venom in her tone. Even when Ana was furious with his brother, she always retained a semblance of decorum, of restraint. He had never seen such hatred, such rage, in her before. And as the object of that rage, Fendrel felt his own rising in defense. He squeezed his fingers into his palm to stop himself from shouting at a grieving mother.

Ana narrowed her eyes at him. “But it isn’t up to me, is it? I just want to leave the palace where my poor little boy was murdered. You will not take that away from me. I will not let you. Now, get out of my room.”

Fendrel rose from the bed and headed to the door. He paused for a moment, knowing he ought to apologize. But he was sure anything he said at that moment would not be welcomed. So he closed the door softly behind him.

As soon as Ana was out of sight, he felt his anger settle. Poor Ana, he thought. Of course she was lashing out. It was entirely understandable. It was cruel for Fendrel to even suggest she was plotting against him.

He just wanted the crown so much. The yearning within him was unlike anything he’d ever felt. Now that it was a possibility, now that it was nearly within his grasp, he couldn’t afford for anything to get in the way of it. He should’ve known his biggest threat to Aestus’ blessing was not Ana; it was Thea. Thea was the only person strong enough and stubborn enough to slay a dragon in the hopes of gaining power.

Brom met him in the hallway, back in his full Guard armor. He looked like a soldier again, though if Fendrel was honest, he’d never really stopped. He followed Fendrel down the corridor, his sword tapping out a comforting rhythm at his side.

Fendrel admitted it was odd walking through the halls of the palace again, without Thea and Merek and Carac and Peronell and Isolde. The prince and Brom had grown close to The Source. Even in Fendrel’s exhaustion, the idea of going to sleep without the group surrounding him was odd. He wondered if Brom felt the same. He knew he’d gotten close to Thea; would he also feel strange not waking up beside their companions? After the harrowing journey they’d all shared, it felt as if they were bound together.

Then Fendrel stopped in his tracks and Brom paused behind him. An idea had hit him, and he glanced over his shoulder at Brom as it grew and took shape.

Brom frowned at the odd look in his prince’s face and asked “Are you all right, Your Highness?”

“I was just thinking,” Fendrel started, walking again but keeping pace with Brom this time, “that the other group we will be traveling with should not be ’the other group’.”

“I’m not following, Your Highness.”

“We should be one team. We should be united in our goal.”

“Are we not? Not one of us wants Malum to succeed in his plans. I can’t imagine any of us would like such a monster to live at all.”

“Of course,” Fendrel allowed, “but Aestus has made it so that the actual hand to slay Malum is the one that matters, not simply the death. Obviously, I would like that hand to be mine.”

Brom’s brows furrowed. “Obviously.”

“Do you think Thea is under the same assumption?”

Brom thought for a moment. Then he said, “She did not appear to care. I do not think she will try to hinder you, Your Highness.”

“All the same, it would be helpful to form an alliance, do you not agree?”

Brom chuckled.

Fendrel looked at him sharply.

“My apologies,” Brom said, “but I do not think Thea Wyvern wants anything to do with you. If you recall, she wanted to fight you to the death in Aestus’ cave.”

As if he could have forgotten. “We were all exhausted. But once we’ve gotten a good night’s sleep, surely she will—“

“May I be frank with you, Your Highness?” Brom asked as he stopped in front of the prince’s bedroom.

Fendrel frowned and nodded. He knew Thea and his relationship was not the most friendly but he did not think it was so bad that Brom, his own Guard, would laugh at him at the suggestion of an alliance.

Brom said, “She has a lot of respect for you since you jumped in front of that dagger. But seeing her father like that…it really affected her. And your harshness in the face of that trauma did little to keep you in her good graces. If it is an alliance you are looking for, you have a lot of making up to do. Otherwise, I would not be surprised if she slayed Malum simply to spite you.”

If Fendrel was being honest with himself, he wouldn’t be surprised either. That’s the sort of person Thea was. She went over and beyond for the people she loved, but she also went to the ends of the earth to hurt those she hated. And if she wanted to become ruler of Creasan, she had all her Source friends on her side. They would side with her in an instant over Fendrel.

If Fendrel wanted to be king, he needed to think like Thea.

“You will help me do it,” Fendrel stated with a firm nod.

Brom blinked. “Me? Your Highness, how do you expect me—“

“She will have her entire rebellion group helping her, but they are not trained palace Guards.” Fendrel nodded as the plan came together in his head. “I will do my best to form an alliance with her, to get her agreement that it will be I who vanquishes Malum.”

“That won’t be easy,” Brom pointed out.

Fendrel knew that. But Thea had a mind for strategy. She would see the benefits to an alliance—

As if Brom could read his thoughts, he added, “As an ally, she doesn’t trust you.”

That was probably true. Any faith he had gained by diving in front of that dagger had been dashed in Aestus’ cave. He’d have to start from scratch. “And that is why I will need your help,” said the prince. “She does trust you. She even likes you. I will do my best to gain her to my side, but if I should fail, you will assure her that it would be a smart move.”

Brom was already shaking his head. “You must give her more credit than that. Thea will not be so easily manipulated—“

“Then we will stop her!” Fendrel burst.

The Guard paused. “What do you mean?”

Fendrel felt his heart racing as his nerves began to fray. Just the idea of her stealing that which he had worked so hard for was sending him toward destruction. “Whatever it will take,” he said. “When the time comes to kill Malum, it must be my hand. And you will help me make sure that is what happens. We will…stall her or distract her or…or whatever else we must to make sure she does not get to Malum.”

“You mean harm her?” Brom asked darkly.

Fendrel hadn’t wanted to say the words. Despite what others might think, his respect for Thea was enormous. Whether or not he wanted to metaphorically throttle her on a regular basis, he did not want to seriously harm her. Yet if that’s what it took to get his crown…

“No.” The word came out of Brom like a gavel slamming down.

Fendrel blinked. He didn’t think he could ever remember a time when Brom did not do as Fendrel ordered, not since that woman in Vuterra. The rejection surprised him. “No?” Fendrel repeated.

“I am sorry, Your Highness, but I cannot do it.”

Fendrel studied Brom’s face. He was like a statue, staring straight ahead. Immoveable. He would not do this, and there was nothing Fendrel could say to change his mind.

Except… “If you help me,” Fendrel began slowly, “and I become king, I will relieve you of your position as a Guard of Creasan.”

Brom’s eyes whipped to Fendrel. “What?”

“You will be given a generous pension and be allowed to live out the rest of your days peacefully in Steokar with your family. You will never have to leave them again nor will you ever be expected to fight on my behalf. This I swear to you, as Prince of Creasan and its future King.”

It looked as if Brom did not even breathe as he stared into Fendrel’s face. But Fendrel was not lying. If he became king, he’d have thousands of Guards at his disposal. Though he would miss this man whom he’d come to consider a friend, he would be able to make do without him. If Fendrel had the power to do it, he would.

Brom licked his lips nervously. “If she discovers your plan,” he warned, “I fear what wrath she will bring upon you.”

Fendrel smirked. “No wrath greater than a scorned woman?”

Brom scanned the corridor to make sure no one was listening. Then he stepped up close to the prince, getting right in his face. Fendrel jerked back in surprise. “This will be beyond a mere lover’s scorn,” Brom spat. “You are going into battle. Warrior must be able to trust fellow warrior unquestioningly. If we try this and are caught, we will have betrayed one of the most sacred understandings of a soldier’s code. We will both be traitors to her. Deserters. The most pathetic and loathsome of all soldiers.”

Fendrel saw the severity in Brom’s gaze, the urgency and desperation. He did not want Fendrel to take the risk, did not want him to betray the woman both men had come to respect. Because Fendrel truly had come to respect Thea as a fighter and a leader. But this was not a time for respect; this was a time for strategy. Fendrel had to be king, or else all this would be for nothing. And as prince, Fendrel had never had nothing.

So Fendrel answered simply, “Then we must not be caught.”