Dragonswood (19 page)

My doctoring seemed to seal things betwixt Father and the dragonlord. They talked easily now about my future and spoke of other matters. I listened intently, working my way along. Strange. I’d been useless when it came to helping Tom. His weeping sores upset my stomach, so I’d backed away like a coward, leaving Meg and Poppy, and later Aisling to do the work. Why was it I could tend Grandfather’s dog, and now Lord Kahlil’s sores without the same repulsion? I did not understand myself at all sometimes.

The old dragon’s scales were surprisingly smooth. It was like salving a wall, so high was his bony frame, but a living wall, and breathing one, and warm.

Kahlil said, “Prince Arden’s ship will arrive next week.”

“So soon? We are not ready.”

“Ready or not, make your move, Onadon. Lord Sackmoore will present his daughter, Lady Lizbeth, straightaway to Arden.”

“Bucktooth Betsy? Lady Lizbeth doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Do not underestimate Lord Sackmoore,” said the dragonlord. “And the other lady might still be in play.”

“She was just a boyhood fancy, my lord. I’m sure Prince Arden is long over her.”

So Prince Arden had a lady love before he left on crusade? My hand stopped mid-salve. “What lady?” They ignored my question.

The dragonlord went on. “I wouldn’t discount her. Time does not always lessen affection. You know the woman has the spine to be a queen.”

“But not the beauty,” argued Onadon. “She’s lost the flower of her youth.”

The bucktoothed daughter of the powerful king’s regent; an old lover who’d lost her beauty; and me: None of us had a chance against Poppy. Still, Onadon was driven to smash Elixis in this fight, and I was his mallet.

Lord Kahlil shook his head. The scale wall moved under my hand. “You bring up beauty again. What of courage? Strength? Is beauty so precious to a man?”

Onadon laughed. “Very precious. The new king must think his wife beautiful if he’s expected to beget an heir by her.”

I paused and looked at my father. “If beauty surmounts all, Poppy will win.” It had to be said.

“You are beautiful,” Onadon remarked. I blushed, drawing more ointment from the jar.

On tiptoe I applied some to a yellowed patch. Suddenly the dragon’s back leg lunged at me with long, sharp talons.

“Tess!” Onadon shouted.

Chapter Twenty-nine

O
NADON DOVE UNDER
the beast’s mighty jaw to find me huddled, arms over my head.

“Excuse me,” Lord Kahlil said as Father helped me to stand. I was shaken but began to see what had happened. Old Padrick had scratched his itchy side violently when I tended him. The dragon had done the same without conscious thought to harm me.

“You are all right?” His eyes swiveled on me with concern. Unlike the smaller, blue-eyed Ore’s, his irises were golden. And now that he was fully awake, no longer drugged with sleep, they glowed like molten metal.

“I’m unharmed, my lord.” I held up the jar. “The ointment is half gone already.”

Onadon cupped my shoulders with his hands, proudly as a man might bolster his brave son after battle. “Do what you can with it, Tess.”

I went back to work, rubbing the dragon’s wrinkled elbow, soaked in the knowledge that Onadon had leaped to my rescue, as a father would a daughter. Still, I’d done my part. I’d had the reflexes to dart backward. I’d learned that maneuver long ago.

Had Onadon seen something of my strength? Not all women need rescuing. Some prefer to look both man and dragon in the eye.
I am becoming more to him than a plan or a prize.

Finishing the right side, which was by far the worst, I slipped under the dragon’s long neck to his left side.

“Lean down a little, Lord Kahlil. There is a place I cannot reach.”

Roaring laughter echoed through the cave. I reared back again, alarmed, but two were laughing, my father and the dragon.

“Well, she has spine enough to give orders to a dragon!” Lord Kahlil snorted.

“I’ll say that for her.” Onadon wiped his laughter-soaked eyes, and sighed.

“Come by me again, Tess. I will lean down as you asked.” Lord Kahlil’s voice was gentle, if a sound that is deep and rough as a rocky gully can be called gentle. He lowered his head. “Climb up on my wing if you need to reach the upper back.”

I hesitated. “Isn’t it still damaged at the tip?” I’d seen it burn when he rescued Tanya.

“The tip still troubles me. Avoid it there, but the upper wing is sound.”

“The burned tip is why our good lord cannot fly,” Onadon added.

“It will heal,” snapped the dragon.

“My pardon, lord.” Onadon made a quick bow.

“Would the salve help?” I asked cautiously.

“It might, child, but the scales are tender there.”

We all moved a little ways toward the mouth of the cave. Lord Kahlil needed room to unfurl his left wing without scraping the wall. He was a very large dragon even in such a sizable cave.

The scales were blackened at the tip, and there was a painful-looking red spot where one scale had fallen off and new ones had not grown in.

“New scales grow, Tess,” he said, sensing my concern. “I’ll fly again soon enough. Try the salve, but gently.”

I did so, rubbing carefully as I might rub a babe, so tender were the burns. Lord Kahlil let out a great sigh. When the wingtip was done, I removed my slippers and climbed up on his inner wing to reach the yellowing scales higher up on his back. The upper wing scales were warm on the soles of my feet. My hands smelled of minty ointment. Strange contentment filled me as I eased his lordship’s pain.

One discolored scale peeled off as I applied the balm. A healthier green scale lay beneath, but the edge was prickled and inflamed. I knew better than to spread the balm there. Climbing higher on the wing, I saw the uppermost part of the dragonlord’s back. There was a space at the base of his long neck where one or two fey riders could sit comfortably astride him. But he seemed too noble a creature to be ridden so.

There were still sore places on his left side. I was sorry the jar was empty. Climbing down, I put on my slippers and joined my father by the fire. Lord Kahlil lowered his cupped eyes, inspecting me. Such mirrors these. What did they see? The dark slit pupils were the length of my hand. The golden irises were like bright curtains drawn back to a diamond-shaped night window.

“Come closer,” he said, smoke coiling from his nose.

He pointed with a single talon. “Turn around, Tess.”

I sighed. The blacksmith bid me turn around, inspecting my soundness for marriage. Morralyn asked the same when I was naked in her flit chamber. Now the dragon wanted me to turn. What did turning have to do with anything? Was there something telling about my back or buttocks I should know of?

I obeyed, my slippers crunching in the pebbles.

After a long pause, Lord Kahlil flicked his tongue. “King Kadmi has two sons.”

“Only the older will be king, my lord,” said Father.

“Can you see the future?” asked the dragon testily.

“I cannot,” admitted Onadon.

“Better for all of us if both princes marry girls with fey blood, Onadon. More mixed-blood offspring that way.” He appraised me a little longer. “I’ve known Arden and Bion from children. I watched them play on Dragon’s Keep. This girl of yours came closer to me than the one called Poppy. From the time he was a boy, the younger prince Bion showed no fear of dragons. The same cannot be said of Arden. I say Tess is better suited to Bion.”

My father looked startled, but bowed his head quickly, replying, “As you say, my lord.”

I clamped my teeth. I’d not met either prince, yet every man, every male creature for that matter, seemed to think he was my matchmaker. Did any one of them consider asking me what I thought?

“We will send both Tess and Poppy,” he concluded. “Make sure to school them well before they go. Whoever becomes queen will have to speak for all of us and for the sanctuary.”

Onadon nodded.

“All right. Here is what I told Elixis. The Pendragons might be willing enough to take you in, but the king’s regent will turn you away at the gate if he knows you’re fey. In the beginning introduce Tess and Poppy as Irish princesses. Arden would welcome princesses from his mother’s homeland. And many lesser Irish kings squirm under England’s boot. An alliance with Wilde Island would be to their advantage.”

“We would have to come by sea to bring it off,” said Onadon irritably.

Kahlil blinked. “No doubt you can guise a ship, and your flits can weave a proper Irish flag.”

“And later when the truth comes out, my lord?”

“The truth must come out, Onadon. Prince Arden has to know he’s choosing a half-fey girl if he takes Tess or Poppy. You only go as an Irish delegation to get past Sackmoore.”

“Ireland it is, then.” My father bowed.

Chapter Thirty

I
CAME LATE
to the high meadow many nights later, having missed the meal once again. Since returning from God’s Eye I’d been trapped day after day learning courtly dances. When not gliding on my feet or colliding with my instructor, I was sent along with Poppy to learn a bit of fey history. We were schooled enough to speak with confidence for our people. Whoever became queen would have to hold her ground and protect the dragons’ and the fairies’ rights to this sanctuary.

When not busy dancing or studying, I was sent to Morralyn. Poppy had eight elaborate gowns ready for Pendragon Castle. Onadon was determined I’d have just as many. Thus I was made to stand still in the humming hives when my feet ached and all I wished to do was to sit. I held my arms out just so while the flits spun new gowns. (Still I was all over stung!) Seven complete now, my favorite one was flame-colored. The red-orange cloth shimmered like living fire. I knew I’d save it out for something special. One more visit with the flits on the morrow, and I’d be done.

My newest gown spun this day was a soft rosy pink. It reminded me of something. Up in my solar I’d pulled out Grandfather’s handkerchief and pressed it against the new gown. The sparkling rose cloth matched perfectly.
Flit-made
. No wonder it was so fine. He must have gotten it from one of the fey friends he’d met at sea. I tucked it into my sleeve before going outside.

King Elixis was dancing with his “queen for the night.” He’d been angry to learn Lord Kahlil approved of me as the second fey princess. He’d expected to bring only Poppy to court. He and Onadon argued long. It seemed like a pointless discussion after Lord Kahlil gave judgment. The dragons and the fairies had to agree on the half-fey girls with the sanctuary at stake.

Sipping wine and gently rubbing a drop on my flit-stung elbow, I watched couples dancing in the meadow. The fey were tireless. I was worn out from the lessons and dress fittings, and too exhausted to dance.

Fey men and maids swung round and round, moving close and closer. On the edge of the crowd, I saw partners slip off toward the treed fairy houses to couple for a night. How different their society was. I was learning about it in our daily lessons; still, I wasn’t used to it. Men and women coming together one night, parting again the next. Mothers bore the children. I saw imbalance in that. Men were free, but were the women here? And the children seemed little more than servants, minding their All Mothers and All Fathers. Still, if marriage is abhorrent, certainly my mother’s was, there was something to be said for this way of life.

Poppy made her way through the dancers. “Nice gown,” she said. “Pink becomes you.”

She sat by me, a little breathless. “You have a matching lady’s handkerchief,” she noted. “Morralyn hasn’t made me any. I’ll ask her to.”

I quietly fingered the cloth and was considering how to tell Poppy it hadn’t come from Morralyn when she pointed into the crowd.

“Do you see him, Tess?”

“See whom?”

“Jyro, silly. Over there.” She drew my attention to a lanky fellow with ginger hair as curly as sheep’s wool. The youth stood out from the others not in his handsomeness, for that was common among the fey, but in his quick, playful movements. He was the one who’d juggled the platters to amuse the children my first night here.

“The juggler.”

“He’s a fun dance partner,” she said. “And you know I saw him long before we came here.”

“What? When?”

“I told you the fey man I spied on the dragon’s back the night they rescued Tanya had hair as red as Meg’s.”

I remembered. I’d been puzzled she’d seen a fey man when I had not.

“It was him,” she said breathlessly. “Jyro.” She stepped away from me. Already Jyro was running across the lawn to claim another dance with her.

It was only later the next evening while packing for our trip, Poppy startled me with her news.

“He loves me, Tess.”

“Who does?”

“Jyro. He said so.” She swatted her pillow to plumpness so she could curl up on her side and face me. “He is a wonderful man.”

“A fey man,” I reminded.

“Fey,” she sighed. “Aye, fey, so much better than human men, don’t you think?”

She smiled up at the ceiling.

I should have sensed she was falling for Jyro. Hadn’t she danced with him exclusively the night before? Frowning, I folded another gown and placed it in my trunk. I’d been with the Mistress of the Hives in the afternoon and had come away with three new flit stings, two below the knee and one new inflamed one on my wrist. “You should get up, Poppy. We need to finish packing.”

Poppy took a yellow gown from the wardrobe and twirled with it a little before laying it across her bed. “Jyro wants to marry me.” She did not look me in the face but kept folding.

I went to help her fold. “Poppy,” I said softly. “You know fey don’t marry. Jyro didn’t mean it the way you think.”

“He meant every word. He wants to marry me. He said he’d find a way.”

Would Jyro go against his own fey king, against their entire fey way of life here?

I thought not, but I could see she cared for him. She’d never fallen for any man before, at least not that I knew.

I took her hand. “I know how it feels to be lied to by someone you care about.” I could say no more then; the thought of Garth suddenly stopped my throat. When I could speak again, I said, “I’ll stay by you.”

“I don’t want you,” she laughed. “I want him.”

“What about Prince Arden?”

“I don’t care about being a queen anymore. I told you, Jyro loves me.”

I leaned against the wardrobe, the cold mirror at my back. “You know as well as I Jyro can’t marry you. Marriage is against their way of life.”

“Jyro’s different. He promised me he would.” There was a desperate tone to her voice that frightened me.

“Maybe he said that so he could kiss you, or even more than that, so he could—” I saw her shy smile and stopped. She was wrapping her pretty combs so they wouldn’t break on the journey. Her hands working with speed as if she were in a race. So Jyro had already gone further than kissing?

“Poppy, what if he gets you with child, then leaves you the way both our mothers were left?”

“Jyro wouldn’t do that.” She swept up her combs hurriedly, then dropped them all. On the floor together, we gathered them up again. The wrappings had come off but only the bright blue one was broken, the one that matched her eyes. Her hands shook as she put the two pieces together as if to join them by force.

Jyro had used magic to mend the platters he’d dropped, breaking them for laughter’s sake, and fixing them as soon as broken with a playful wink. The man stood out from the other fey, entertaining the children who were too busy at their chores to stop long for a little fun. “I do not think Jyro is a liar, Poppy,” I said, “but he’s something of a trickster.”

Her eyes lit up. “He makes me laugh more than anyone.”

On the floor I leaned against my open trunk. “Even if he married you, where would you live?”

“Here in DunGarrow.”

We rewrapped the combs again, keeping out the broken one. We’d studied the fey together, all part of our queen training. “You know if you lived in DunGarrow, you’d lose your man to another fey woman at the dances. They don’t stay with one partner long.”

Poppy stuffed the combs in the trunk and took out her blue gown to fold. I opened our balcony door, remembering the waif named Susha who’d come in to fetch my torn gown, the determined look on her face as she’d boasted she was now a second tier. Childhood here was full of tests, it seemed, with no particular mother or father to claim you. Could Poppy live with that?

“What about children?” I asked her cautiously.

“They’d have Jyro’s red hair, I think,” she said dreamily. “Like little Alice.”

A cold foreboding crept along my skin. “You know you would have to give up any children you and Jyro might have,” I said, “watching them live as little servants till they earned their fey powers and their freedom.” I saw her face changing, but I went on. “You would be an All Mother with no real family of your own.”

“Stop it, Tess.” Throwing the gown over the open trunk, she went out onto the balcony. Poppy stood with her back to me, her spine rigid as a birch. The last light of the day spread over the woods, a rosy hue washed round her. I let her be. I knew my words disturbed her, but I’d said it for my sake as much as hers. This too would be my fate if I chose to live in DunGarrow. All the fey men would have a husband’s rights, yet none of them would show any special care for me or my children.

I went out and put my arm about her. “I’ve said too much. You know as well as I the way they live here.” I paused, gazing out at the meadow. “It’s only I’m afraid.”

She did not look at me. “Afraid of what?”

“That you’ll be cheated in some way. That Jyro will hurt you the way Onadon hurt my mother, the way Elixis hurt yours. And if not that, then I worry you’ll stay with him only to be unhappy here.”

Her shoulders eased. “Tess. You’ve always worried overmuch.” She put her arms around me, the wind coming down the mountainside chilling the air as it sang through the pinnacles.

“What will we do now?” I said.

Poppy pulled back. “Jyro said I should go to Pendragon Castle as planned. He’ll come along so I won’t be alone. He promised he’ll think of a way for us to be together.”

Poppy still had the broken comb in her left hand. Jyro might have the magic to fix it in a wink the way he’d fixed the platters, but hearts and lives were harder to mend. How could he interfere with the fey plans for an alliance without endangering their sanctuary?

“I thought you would be pleased for me to step aside,” Poppy said. “It means you can marry Prince Arden yourself.”

I gripped the railing, leaning out into the wind. I wanted to tell her the real reason I was going with the fey, but could not press a single word past the lump in my throat. I knew Poppy wouldn’t tell a soul, but my hope to free Garth seemed like a dream, a bright reflection in the mirror that looks warm in the light and turns cold when you touch the glass. I was sure if I spoke, I’d see all the ways in which it could never work. It’s one thing to spring a prisoner from a small jailhouse set apart from a sheriff’s manor, another thing to free a man from a king’s dungeon guarded by well-trained knights, and escape from a castle fortified with towering guard walls and a moat.

B
ECAUSE WE HAD
to arrive by sea as a royal delegation from Ireland would have, our party of fourteen rode southeast for a place called Swanebrook Harbor to find a worthy ship. Morralyn came along to act as Poppy’s lady’s maid, Aisling as mine. Other men and women joined us, including King Elixis and Onadon, who would be called Lord O’Malley and Lord McLaughlin in turn until we were past Sackmoore’s guard. So we left with our entourage, our lordly escort. And of course, Jyro.

Now that Prince Arden was at court, both Onadon and Elixis were anxious to reach Pendragon Castle. We hadn’t ridden long before my father resorted to magic.

“Shall we speed it up?” he asked.

Remembering our ride to meet Lord Kahlil, I sensed what was coming. “Hold on,” I said to Poppy, “and keep your head low.”

In a rush, the horses sped through the greenwood. It was rough going at first, then just as before, the ride became smooth as silk and everything became a blur. Riding thus, we reached the boundary wall quite soon and took up our journey again on Kingsway. I was nervous at first to be traveling so conspicuously on the road. I soon found I needn’t have worried. Everything—all the fey, their horses, and the cart—completely disappeared when humans were near.

My first dizzying experience of this came after Elixis’s scout spied a tinker’s wagon up ahead, a man and his family rolling wares to the next town. They’d not yet seen us. Elixis waved his hand, and in a wink, we all vanished. I let out a startled scream. No sound came. All was silent in the fairy spell so Tinker and his family would neither see us nor hear us approach.

I did not know how quick the fairy’s senses were, but I was deaf within the spell and could not hear the jingling wagon, his horse’s hoofbeats or our own. All the clopping rhythmic sounds that had drummed the roadway only minutes before went dumb. Only our telltale hoof prints on the snowy road gave evidence of us.

As my eyes adjusted in the spell, I caught a glimmer of myself and my companions all wavering pale as sunlight through mist. But I knew the humans could not see even that. I became less anxious and began to ride along comfortably like a quiet flame suspended in midair.

A girl of five or six peered out of the back of her father’s wagon. Mouth open, she pointed at our new-made hoof prints appearing in the snow. The excited child tugged on her brother’s cloak and was ignored.

When we’d ridden far enough down Kingsway, the spell faded and we came into ourselves again. I was a little numbed by the magic. Jyro rode near Poppy, consoling her after her first vanishing. I saw him speaking softly, but he did not touch her. As it turned out, the tinker’s family was the first of many encounters. So Poppy and I had to adjust ourselves to the vanishing spell as we rode on. It came to me this was the way the fey had always moved through the human world when it suited them. I wondered how often I’d passed them by myself.

Swanebrook Harbor looked deserted in the moonlight. It took little time to “borrow” a ship, as Morralyn called it. Sailors watching the harbor were gently enspelled to sleep. Soon fey men hoisted sails aboard the newly christened
Malarkey.
Jyro unfurled and raised the flit-spun Irish flag.

A light snow fell on ship and harbor as I made my way across the dock. Many fey were already on board. King Elixis helped Poppy over the icy gangplank. On shore my father directed the horses to return to Dragonswood, and onward home without us. Other fey men carried trunks and heavy bundles across the plank. I decided to cross the steep gangplank on my own. Halfway over, I slipped on the ice, fell facedown, and screamed as I felt the sharp nail gouge my chin.