Dragon Wife (6 page)

“Good point. Orwenna can handle that.”

“Of course,” she said, the edge of her self-control fraying. It felt like she could burst into hysterical laughter or tears. She wasn’t sure which, but neither would be appropriate.

“I should probably go start,” Orwenna murmured, needing to get away. She was a rabbit caught in a wire snare, watching the trapper approaching with his bloody game bag, ready to toss her inside.

“Good girl,” her father said, offering a thin smile.

For a moment she felt a powerful urge to strike him. They stood eye to eye, tension snapping in the air between them. Then she turned and ran toward the castle.

****

Orwenna had been wandering aimlessly for more than an hour. Far from starting the wedding arrangements, she’d given over to mindless movement, walking down one corridor and then another, through the chapel, then down to the courtyard. Right at this corner, left at the next, through this archway, and up these stairs.

It didn’t matter where she went, so long as she kept going. If she stopped, everything would catch up with her, and she’d fall apart.

Her feet brought her to the foyer, outside the great hall. To the left were living quarters, laundry, and kitchen. To the right lay a library and the king’s audience chamber. She turned right.

Her pace slowed as she walked the wide corridor. This was the most ornate section of the castle, with scroll work around the doors and frescos painted at intervals along the ceiling. Elaborate tapestries hung on the walls, their edges bound with gold thread. Even the floor was beautiful, set with an alternating pattern of dark and light stone, the surface polished smooth.

Orwenna’s fevered thoughts quieted as she absorbed the hushed grandeur of her surroundings. One particular tapestry caught her eye. It depicted a triad of dragons flying across an evening sky. She drew closer to it, admiring the contours of the creatures’ wings, their proud heads, and curving tails. She reached out, tracing a finger over the lead dragon. He was black, like Huroth.

“What could possibly be so urgent as to justify interrupting my lunch?” A man’s strident complaint echoed in the stillness. Orwenna turned, startled, to see a guard escort Vardis down the corridor and into the king’s audience chamber. Neither of them noticed her standing in the corner.

A prickling sensation crept up the back of her neck, part curiosity and part premonition. Why should King Elric order Vardis brought to him immediately? It must be an issue involving the dragon clan, otherwise Vardis wouldn’t be needed.

What if it was serious enough to affect all Whiterock? Could the wedding be postponed? A jittery hope sprang forward in her mind. She had to know what her two uncles were talking about.

Orwenna’s eyes closed as she concentrated, whispering the words to her mother’s listening spell. It had been a while since she used magic. Most everyone disapproved of the practice, so it was simpler to leave it dormant.

The spell didn’t respond as quickly as she would have liked. She repeated the words of power, reaching out for the strands of magic which wove through her and through all creation.

One minute passed, and then another. Finally she felt the connection, as the spell tingled around her ears. A brief wave of dizziness passed over her, then she could hear her uncles’ voices clearly.

“Why should Keska attack us now?” It was Vardis speaking. “We’ve had peace with them more than three decades.”

“I can’t be sure of the reasons,” the king answered, his voice strained. “Perhaps they’re threatened by our maritime expansion. Lord Darius just returned from another Tackenyan voyage, and he secured broader trade agreements this time. Keska has long considered that her territory.”

“They have no legitimate claim to it,” said Vardis.

“No, but I’m guessing that’s an issue. They could also be gambling on the fact half our army is busy with the northern tribes. It’s an opportune moment for Keska to invade.”

“So you want me to ask the dragons for help?” Vardis sounded wary.

“Yes. Now is the time for them to honor our agreement. Scouts have seen a Keskan host gathering south of the Odigh Hills. They could outnumber us two to one, or worse, if we don’t get our men back from the northern border. Having dragons on our side might make the difference.”

“What shall I tell them about Ayelet?” Vardis asked pointedly. “That is, after all, our side of the arrangement.”

The king was silent. Orwenna wished the spell allowed her to see as well as hear what was going on. It was frustrating, not being able to read their facial expressions.

At last the king spoke.

“Tell them they can come for her whenever they like. She’s ready.”

Orwenna hissed under her breath. How could he say Ayelet was ready, when she still saw the world through a child’s eyes and feared the dragons as monsters?

“When would you like me to leave?” Vardis asked. “It will take some preparation.”

“This afternoon, preferably. We don’t know how swiftly the Keskan army will move, but they could reach our southern border in a matter of days.”

“I’ll make ready then.”

“One last thing, Vardis. I’m sending armed guards with you, to ensure you complete the task. We can’t take any chances with this.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary, brother. I have been to Dragonvale before, and I’m not likely to run away.”

“I’ve learned never to assume, when I’m dealing with you.”

“Your confidence overwhelms me.”

“You’ve earned every bit of it,” the king retorted. “Now go.”

A moment passed, then the door to the audience chamber swung open. Orwenna tried to look casual, admiring the fine weave of the tapestry. She needn’t have bothered. Vardis swept by as if she was invisible.

She watched him disappear around a corner, her mind ticking over, sorting through everything she had just heard. Her palms were sweaty as she pressed them tightly together, trying to stay calm. A plan began hatching in her mind.

It was insane. A part of her was shocked that she’d even consider it, but these were crazy times. If she didn’t do something drastic, her life would be taken from her and irretrievably bound to Rollin.

She simply could not face that future. So what did she have to lose? Better to take some kind of action, than stand by passively while they clamped the shackles on her.

****

The sun had set, but light still streaked the western sky. It would fade quickly. Orwenna rode across the stone bridge spanning the Ashon River, thanking the gods that she knew an effective dark vision spell. It was about to come in handy.

She wouldn’t be able to maintain it all night, but long enough to catch up with Vardis. By then, she’d need rest. Magic was useful, but it drained her energy.

Leaving the castle had proven easy. With everyone bustling about, preparing for the start of Bellesmar, she’d been able to carry her bundle to the stable, saddle a horse, and ride away without drawing attention. Her dark grey cloak blended into the dusk, and the hood effectively shadowed her face. No one would guess she was a lady of the court.

King Elric was keeping the Keskan threat a secret. Perhaps he wanted to let Bellesmar proceed while he quietly sent for the dragons and reinforcements from the northern border. If the Keskan generals believed he was unaware, so much the better.

Orwenna spent part of the afternoon in town, just as her father instructed. Only she wasn’t buying things for the wedding. She used the money on a week’s supply of travel rations, a blanket, canteen, and other necessities. She also bought herself leather leggings, boots, a man’s long-sleeved undershirt, and a short wool tunic, split up the sides so as to be suitable for riding. Her most expensive purchase was the thick hooded cloak, but it was well worth it.

As she rode through the last buildings of Whiterock, clustered along the river’s northern shore, Orwenna turned in the saddle and looked back toward the castle. The pale granite towers glimmered in the twilight, tiny lights shining golden from the windows.

How long would it be, before they realized she was gone? Her father would assume she ran late with her shopping. He’d write it off as womanly inefficiency or some such rubbish. No one but Biri would take her absence seriously until quite late, and then what could they do?

There was nothing to link her with Vardis’s mission, even if they were aware of the king’s plans. As far as they knew, she’d have vanished into thin air.

An intoxicating sense of freedom surged through Orwenna, as she laughed, kicking her horse forward into a trot. She might have doubts and regrets tomorrow, but now she felt like a fledgling making its first leap into the vastness of sky. Her feathers were spread and ready for flight.

****

Wolf howls pierced the morning mist, the sound strangely beautiful and chilling. It was the first time Orwenna had heard a pack in full song. Wolves were rare in settled lands, and they avoided people. She’d only seen two, in her whole life, and they fled quickly. Hopefully their mountain brethren were equally shy.

With a shiver, Orwenna pulled her cloak tighter against the damp. Somewhere, behind the clouds, the sun had risen, but her breath still puffed like steam. Nights in the mountains were cold. Thank goodness she’d bought the cloak, as only the combination of that and her blanket made sleep possible.

She chewed another mouthful of dried meat, feeling her jaw begin to ache from the effort. Farther up the valley, smoke rose from a campfire. Orwenna enviously pictured Vardis and the two guards holding their hands to warm by the flames, as their breakfast cooked. Unfortunately, she needed to stay concealed.

Her initial excitement had not faded entirely, but it was tempered by the reality of three days hard riding and three nights sleeping on lumpy ground. It wasn’t the first time she’d camped out, but it was the first time she’d done so without the luxury of a tent, a sleeping pad, and a cheerful fire.

Twice in the past, when Padrig had fallen ill, she’d taken turns staying with the flock on their summer range. Those leisurely days and comfortable nights now seemed like a vacation, rather than an adventure. The weather had been mild and her sleeping arrangements relatively pleasant.

Though this current trek into the mountains was more grueling, there was something in it that made her feel potently alive. As they traveled farther east, the high peaks drew closer, and the country they rode through grew more rugged. Something in her responded to the lofty summits, the tumbling streams, and steep slopes dense with cedar and hemlock.

This landscape made her feel small, in some ways, but in others it lifted her out of herself. She experienced a surprising connection to this untamed wilderness, as if its song echoed something deep within her.

The hardest part of the journey was keeping out of sight, while following close enough not to lose Vardis and his guards. Fortunately, they didn’t cover their tracks or make any effort to hide their passage through the countryside. There was no reason for them to suppose they were being followed.

Sometimes, Orwenna had to wonder at herself. Why, exactly, was she doing this? What could she possibly hope to gain by risking her reputation, her safety, and her future security? It was hardly a sensible course of action.

That was the thing. All her adult life, she’d been practical, responsible, and for the most part, agreeable. Look where it got her. Neither her father, nor Rollin, nor the king himself cared one whit for her feelings. They were willing to bind and sacrifice her without a second thought.

The choice to follow Vardis was not a rational one. It was more that she felt compelled, right to the core, to do something in her own interest. If down the road, she was required to settle with Rollin, at least she’d have lived a little first. She’d have seen new lands and walked the halls of Dragonvale. If she was lucky, there might even be a chance to know Huroth better. It was worth the risk.

Orwenna washed down the meat and dry bread with water from a nearby creek. It was astonishing how good it tasted, sweet and fresh. She splashed her face, briskly rubbing away the cobwebs of sleep.

A grey jay flitted from a fir branch to investigate her breakfast crumbs. Its plumage was fluffed against the cold, so it looked almost round. Orwenna watched it a few seconds then stretched, easing out her sore muscles. Riding ten hours a day took its toll on a body.

She undid her braid, running fingers through the straight caramel-colored strands, before fastening it tightly once more. Loose hair was a distraction she didn’t need, especially riding through rough country. It took all her concentration, guiding the horse up rocky inclines, through brush choked gorges, and over slippery streambeds.

She hoped Vardis really did know where he was going. He seemed to choose the most torturous routes, but she had to follow or risk losing him in the tangled vastness of the mountains. Only the rising and setting sun let her know they were still headed east.

As the morning progressed, the clouds broke, revealing large patches of blue. Orwenna removed her cloak and tied it to the saddle bags. By noon she had stripped to leather leggings and an undershirt with the sleeves pushed up. Drips of sweat periodically ran into her eyes, so she took a faded kerchief, rolled it, and tied it around her forehead.

She thought of Cousin Lutia with a smile. The older woman would have a fit if she saw Orwenna dressed like a man, her skin tanning in the spring sunshine. There were so many things wrong with her current appearance. Lutia wouldn’t have known where to begin.

After stopping for a lunch of cheese and dried apple slices, Orwenna rode up a narrow ridge, covered mostly in cedars. Their fragrant needles kept the ground clear of underbrush, so the going was easier. She had a decent view to both sides and could keep tabs on the three men below, making their way up a steep-sided valley.

For once, she hadn’t followed directly behind them, as their path seemed unnecessarily slow and painful. She’d already pushed through enough bracken and brambles to last a lifetime. Instead, she listened to her instincts and stuck to higher ground. It would be easy enough to spot where the men emerged at the head of the valley. She just needed to take her time and not get in front of them.