Monstrous (41 page)

A woman with bright gold hair and sparkling blue eyes gazes at me. Her soft hand whispers across my cheek. “I know it is hard for you to stay in the palace. But sometimes queens must make the hard decisions. Someday, when you are queen, you will understand.”

Oliver clears his throat, and the vision slips away. I realize I hover close to her face with my hand resting on her cheek. “Her name was Aria, and she was just as beautiful as
the song she was named after,” he says.

I blush. “I'm sorry,” I say. The warmth from the memory trills over me. Warmth, mixed with Rosabel's frustration and deep love for her mother. No, not just Rosabel's mother—my mother. In the memory, she wore that blue dress I've remembered before.

“Do not be sorry. This is why I brought you here. What Barnabas did to you is abhorrent, but you should know where you came from. Who you really were. I know you do not have many memories left of your mother. Ren told me you cannot see her face in any of them.” His eyes shine. “I am so sorry Barnabas stole that from you too.”

I take his hands. “He didn't take everything. I remember pieces. Some of you, and Ren, and Delia when she was very young. Someday they might all come back. Even the ones of my mother. In fact, I think this just shook one of her loose. She seems as kind and lovely as I'd hoped.”

Oliver squeezes my hand and smiles. “I am very glad to hear that. If . . . If I can help in any way, say the word. Sometimes it is hard to speak of Aria and Rosabel, but having you here, whatever form you may have been put into, is like a second chance.”

“Thank you.” I swallow the lump in my throat, and turn my attention to the smaller box.

Rosabel. I hover over the carved image of my former self. If it is true to life, it means I was beautiful too.

“Do you remember that you—she—tried to save us?” Oliver asks. “She decided to give herself up to the wizard because we could not. But he got here first, and in the end
it did not matter anyway. He is evil to the core.”

As I stand face to face with my own empty crypt the world sharpens into a single point of purpose.

Rosabel was prepared to do what I've been unable to. Give up her friends, her family, her life to keep them safe. She was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Instead, she became me.

I've hemmed and hawed long enough. If Rosabel had the courage to be so brave, I do, too. She loved these people. This city.

I
love them, too.

I can ensure Barnabas never does this to another girl, another family, another city again.

If what Batu said is true—that I have a substantial amount of magic in me—I might have a chance of survival. Of living out my days with my human friends and family, and my dragon brother.

But even if I don't survive, it is the only way to keep those I love truly safe.

Rosabel understood it was the right thing, the only thing, to do.

And now so do I.

“Come, child,” Oliver says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I did not mean to upset you.”

My face is wet, and I brush the tears away, filled with renewed determination. “No, I needed to see this. Thank you.”

He leads me away, back to the throne room. My thoughts return to the matter of finding the wizard.

“Do we know where Barnabas hides?” He must be somewhere in the forest, but I have yet to smell a trace of his scent on the wind.

Oliver shakes his head. “No, but we have patrols in the forest.”

“He does not have many places left to hide. He'll attack soon. I just wish we knew when.”

He sighs, but his grip on my arm tightens. “Barnabas never was one to make things easy.”

“He's still in the area for you and me, and probably Delia for good measure. Aria's refusal to marry him, and your refusal to hand over Rosabel when she was a baby, ruined his careful plans to steal all the realm's magic. He's fixated on revenge. He'll finish what he started.”

We reach the main hall, and Oliver settles onto his throne. “I have no doubt you are correct, and with the foundation almost gone where the briar tore through the city wall, he will attack soon. Even with the work our people do, the more they build it up, the faster the briar tears it down. If he tries to get into Bryre again, that's his only possible entrance. I have guards stationed there around the clock, though he is more likely to strike at night. Dark magic is more powerful then, and he will do anything to have an advantage.”

“Then I'll join the guard tonight. He may be able to trick them with magic, but he won't slip past me.”

I turn to leave, but Oliver catches my hand. “Be careful, Kymera.” A mix of pride and fear resides in his eyes.

“I will. So should you.”

He lets me go and I stride out so fast I may as well be flying even though my wings are furled. The moment I hit the palace's rose garden, I take off. Barnabas will be at our gates all too soon.

It does not take me long to prepare. Ren is off delivering messages for the king and council, leaving me here by the fire with his mother, Greta, and Delia. The latter two hardly knew each other before Belladoma, but have since become great friends. I help myself to a bit of bread and cheese from the table, while Pippa whines by my side for scraps. I scratch her head absentmindedly, then wander off to my room. My mind is abuzz, and I do not feel much like talking.

Barnabas is somewhere nearby, just waiting for the right opportunity.

And I will be there to stop him.

The city guards prepare their weapons, but I have no need for such things. I
am
a weapon, and besides, I have precious little to call my own. I spread out my meager possessions on the bed. In addition to my satchel, belt, and cloak, I have the clothes on my back and the pressed form of the last rose from my garden at the cottage. It has dried now, but the bright red hue clings to it still. Ren's mother found it after I left it on his pillow and kept it along with the book of fairy tales. When she discovered it was mine, she insisted I have it. I both love and hate the memories it carries in its fragile form.

“Kymera?” a soft voice behind me says. I drop the flower on the bed as I spin around, pulling my hands behind my
back so whoever this is won't see that my claws have shot out at being taken unawares.

Delia hovers in the doorway, the fingers of one hand clutching the frame while the other fiddles with her long blond curls. My sister. Who I no longer resemble in the least. Who has every reason to despise me.

“Yes?” I finally say. We have avoided each other ever since my return. She ducks into her room when I am in the hall and vice versa. Her smile in the palace court when Oliver pronounced me Bryre's protector is nearly the only contact we've had since Belladoma.

I simply don't know what to say to her.

“Good luck,” she says. “I think if anyone can defeat the wizard, it would be you.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” Awkwardness hangs between us while I struggle to find something else to say.

“I'm sorry,” she says.

All the breath leaves my lungs. “You're sorry?” I cannot fathom why she thinks she should be sorry. She has done no wrong.

She stares at the floor, the window, the doorframe—everywhere but at me. “Yes. You saved me and those other girls, and I—I have not been very welcoming to you.”

I retrieve my things from the bed and stuff them in my pack. “You do not have to apologize for that. I could hardly expect you to be. You would not have been in Belladoma in the first place, if not for me.”

“But I should. You're—” She stops short and balls her hands into fists at her sides. “You were my sister. It's just that
I thought I was getting past her—you—being gone, and now you're back.” Her brow furrows as she considers my monstrous shape. “Sort of.”

My long-lost affection for this girl stirs deep in the pit of my stomach. It is a warmth, like a tiny ball of sunlight. Only a hint, but that is enough. For now.

“I wish I remembered you better.” I do, terribly. Flits and flashes are all I have. Lately most of them are of Ren, since he's been telling me about Rosabel, but every so often I catch a glimpse of a small, blond girl, too.

She steps fully into the room. “Your eyes are hers. Exactly. Right down to the tiny brown fleck in the left one. The shape of your face resembles hers a little, too. Everything else is . . . different.”

“It was the magic the wizard used. He tried to make me this way so many times, it burned up all but the parts you recognize.” Fear trembles down my neck. Please don't let this girl ask where the rest of me came from.

To my relief, she just nods.

“I'm sorry, too,” I say, because I must, however ridiculous it may sound. “I'm sorry for stealing you from the hospital and sending you to Belladoma. The wizard tricked me. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Delia shivers and takes an unconscious step back. “Yes, I remember when you explained how you thought you were saving us. And when you found out that was wrong, you came with Ren to save us for real.”

She remains in the doorway, still shivering. I can do nothing but gaze at her miserably. Would Rosabel have
embraced and comforted her younger sister? I cannot imagine Delia would welcome that sort of comfort from me.

Yapping and flapping distract us both from our circling thoughts. Pippa soars into the room. Delia ducks, startled by the flying sperrier. She laughs as Pippa skids to a landing at her feet and yelps for attention.

“What an odd little thing!” she says, scratching Pippa right between the ears just as she likes best. The sperrier leans into Delia's hand, practically purring. Then Pippa flies up and lands in Delia's arms. Her nonstop tail wags her entire body. Delia laughs and grins over Pippa's wings.

I grin back. I may not know what will happen to me or whether we'll save Bryre, but it warms me to see that Pippa—and Delia—will be in good hands.

When I move to pet Pippa, too, something draws my attention to the window instead.

Screams. My heart burns in my throat.

Barnabas must be back already. So early! I was sure he'd wait for nightfall.

“What is it?” Delia asks.

“I don't know, but I fear the worst.” I fly by her and out the cottage door. Greta and Delia's feet pound after me. I make it only a few yards before I realize what is happening.

City folk have come out of their homes, and are staring, pointing at the sky.

Batu circles overhead, his great granite-hued wings spread wide as he soars. He is truly a majestic creature. Slowly, he circles down to the street level and settles onto
the cobblestones, careful to fold his wings and curl his tail around the street corner. He is taller than the buildings.

Delia and Greta finally catch up, panting. “D-dragon!” Greta exclaims. “Kym, get back! He'll eat you alive!”

I grin back at them. “Not this dragon.”

Sister
. Hot air brushes over my face in a comforting, familiar breeze.

“Batu!” I say, amazed. “What are you doing here?”

My dragon lowers his head to my eye level.
I heard rumors of the forest by the city being unmade, and knew the wizard had to be near. I realized you were quite serious about fighting him, and I came to a decision.

“What decision is that?” I place my hand on his scaly cheek.

I am alone. I have been alone, and scared, for too many years to count. But since I found you, my life has felt full. I decided I would rather risk dying with you than go back to living alone.

My heart swells and I throw my arms around Batu's snout.

“I am so glad you're here.” I pull back and take in the sight of all the quivering city folk. “Batu, I think I should bring you somewhere less exposed. Did you see the palace when you were circling?”

Batu nods.

“Good. Go to the garden there. You'll have more room to stretch out, and a smaller audience.”

He launches off the ground, and I follow suit, fueled by renewed hope.

Batu reaches the palace garden first and lands with his tail amid the hedge creatures and his head on the grand front steps. The ground trembles when he lands, and the guards come running, swords drawn, only to halt and gape.

“It is all right,” I say, landing in front of Batu. “The dragon is with me. Which means he is with us. Please, get the king.”

“The king is already here,” Oliver says from the wide marble entrance. The guards immediately step in front of him. Ren appears behind the king, his face ashen when he sees Batu.

“It's real,” Ren chokes out.

“Of course it is,” I say.

“Kymera,” Oliver says, looking like he just realized he swallowed something poisonous, “what is the meaning of this? Dragons are dangerous. They are notorious for destroying cities like ours and—”

Actually
, Batu says in his think-speak,
that would be fire dragons. They always were temperamental. No rock dragon has ever destroyed a city.

Oliver gapes. Ren leans against a marble column for support. They both must have heard Batu.

Delia and Greta race down the garden path, panting. “Kym, have you gone mad?” Greta says.

I sigh. I never did stop to consider what the Bryrians' reaction might be to a dragon in their midst when I begged Batu for help. “He is here, at no small risk to himself, I might add, to help us defeat the wizard.”

Oliver's eyes go wide. “You cannot be serious?”

“You can't trust a dragon. He would eat you as soon as look at you!” Ren says.

I shake my head. “I am serious and no, he will not.” I smile at Batu, placing a hand on his snout. “We are like brother and sister. We protect each other.”

“I must say I share Ren's concern,” Oliver says. “Dragons are not tame creatures by any stretch of the imagination. They may be wise, but they can be vicious. They are feared for good reason.”