The Princess's Dragon (25 page)

Elona turned to her father and mother, clasped her hands in front of her, her elbows resting on her stomach. “Well, I see nothing has changed. I would say it was good to see you again, Father, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it. I can see that the feeling is mutual, as usual.”

“Oh, Elona, you know that is not true. Your father has been under a great deal of strain and worry. He didn’t mean to…” the queen replied.

“Don’t tell me what I meant; the girl better have a good reason for risking her health on those terrible roads between here and Bladen,” the king insisted, standing his ground despite his internal embarrassment at his poor treatment of his daughter. He had been rather brusque, but pride kept him from admitting it.

“I suppose I had better not delay my news or I shall find myself thrown in

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the sewage ditch.” Elona glared at her father, noting the new lines of weariness on his face and hating that she cared enough to feel bothered by them.

“I insist that you two stop this nonsense at once. You are always welcome here, my dear, this is still your home,” the queen soothed.

The king refused to repeat the invitation. It hardly mattered what he said; he knew as well as the queen did that he wouldn’t cast his daughter out of the castle.

“Go ahead then, tell us what brought you here on a reckless journey, alone and risking the babe you carry. I hope the news you bring was worth the risk.” Elona raised her head and glowered down her nose at her father. Sarai wished the two could see just how much alike they were.

“Well, forgive me, Your Highness, if I felt that the news that Prince Onian offered King Arctuor a lucrative trade contract to ally with Halidor against Ariva might prove important enough for me to risk this trip. Perhaps I erred in judgment, believing you might find this information worth consideration.”

“What! By what right would they move against us? We have had nothing but peaceful trade and cultural exchange between us for centuries.”

“I did not say that Bladen accepted the offer, only that Onian extended it. As for what King Arctuor will actually do, I cannot say. I do not know my father-in-law very well since my husband and I spend the majority of our time on our royal estates in Blades’ Edge, away from the court.”

“Yes, now that you mention him, where is your husband? Why hasn’t he made this dangerous journey with you? My men say you arrived with hired help and no other accompaniment besides an old crone that took to her heels the moment she received payment. Why would he not accompany you or see you off with more suitable arrangements?”

“My husband returned to court to be at his father’s side during this time of political tension. We received news that the border would be compromised at Ulrick Pass and I could not wait for him to make other arrangements or I would risk the Pass closing off altogether. So I made my own arrangements and here I am.” Elona stood proudly, facing down her father. She carefully glossed over the terrifying escape from her virtual imprisonment at the hands of a tyrannical and abusive husband just hours after he left the estate to return to the court of his father.

Her father narrowed his own eyes, studying his eldest child, the one he often credited for most of his gray hair. He knew that her story was half fiction 150

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and the other half a downright lie, but was unable to prove it or fathom the truth behind it. There was more here that she failed to tell him, but he couldn’t dwell on it while a war brewed on his front steps.

“Very well, you must stay here, of course. You will certainly not be traveling in that condition. We shall send a courier to let your husband know you arrived here safely.” At Elona’s abrupt movement, which she quickly checked, he raised his eyebrow imperatively. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Of course not, Your Highness. By all means, send the missive. My husband must know that I am well. We wouldn’t wish for him to worry.” She curtsied clumsily and the king nodded as well.

“Darling, are you well?” The queen stepped forward, throwing her husband a quelling glance as she reached her daughter’s side and led her to a lounge, settling her in solicitously. Sarai rushed to her other side and plumped up the pillows. The king found the grace to blush guiltily before he glanced over at his son, as uncomfortable as he himself. Both men shuffled and sidled before pulling up chairs around the lounge. The queen and Sarai had already seated themselves by Elona and the queen sent the lady’s maid for refreshments. It appeared they planned to visit.

The king made motions as though to escape, but the queen’s icy glare stopped him. “I hope you have not overtaxed yourself, my dear. You are very far along and a pregnancy is so exhausting on a woman.” The queen shot the king a fresh look of censure. Elona covered her amused smirk behind one slender hand before replying.

“Well, Mother, I do feel somewhat tired. It has been a busy and strenuous five-cycle. And my son does make many demands on me.” Elona fluttered her eyelashes and cast a gloating look her father’s way.

He ground his teeth and crossed his arms over his barrel chest, loathe admitting he might have handled things badly when he greeted his daughter.

She did look tired, pale, and drawn; her stomach distended almost obscenely, overwhelming her slim body. However, the King couldn’t picture Elona as weak, timid or ill. She had never been so; she had always been full of life and vitality and never failed to engage in a fight or shouting match with her father.

He remembered when the guards caught her dressed as a page, swinging a wooden sword at the straw targets on the training grounds. He well recalled the way she never missed a target during archery, a sport generally considered suitable enough even for ladies. There was nothing ladylike about her unerring

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aim or the way the slender missile always seemed to deal massive damage to its target. She acted arrogant, bossy, sometimes cruel, impatient, and quick-tempered, but nothing in her entire life had ever brought her low and he didn’t believe for one minute that this pregnancy proved much of a challenge for her.

“My dear, you just rest. Refreshments are coming and we will all
keep you company, won’t we, my king?”

The king simply nodded at his wife, knowing that he did owe Elona a few moments of his busy day. She had brought him some important news that he would share with the Warlord at the first opportunity. Besides, she carried his future grandchild, and he hoped that he and the babe would get along better than he and his daughter ever had. He hoped Ariva still had a future to get along in.

Elona stopped antagonizing her father when she realized he wasn’t paying attention and searched for a new target. Her little brother remained off limits, even though he already cowered in his chair, intimidated by her. Her mother would switch from loving matron to fierce predator if Elona picked on her precious son. Sarai was no fun at all; she simply accepted every insult, veiled or blatant, with her usual inoffensive calm and understanding. Elona felt cranky and emotional and she’d nearly cried too many times for her comfort in the last five-cycle; she needed an outlet, an assurance that she was still herself despite everything. She needed a target.

“Well, where is she then?”

The others looked around in confusion.

“Where is who, dear?” her mother asked.

“Where is Sondra? I guess it is hardly surprising that she can’t be bothered to join the rest of the family, as usual. Honestly, it is just too much the way you allow her insolent behavior. She is no doubt messing around with her nasty skeletons and bugs rather than showing her respect by greeting me properly.” Elona flipped back her braid, sitting up and whipping herself into a righteous fury at being ignored by her little sister. She pulled herself to her feet to begin a full-scale oration on the many failings of Sondra when she noticed that everyone else had fallen silent. She looked around at all of them, their faces wearing identical masks of stricken pain.

“You don’t know …” her mother whispered her eyes huge, her face pale and lined, the hand she raised to her lips shaking.

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Elona looked at Sarai. Even her unflappable sister shook with some unnamed emotion, her eyes welling with tears.

“What happened? What’s going on here? Where is Sondra?” Elona demanded, turning to each of them in turn.

“Sh—she’s gone …” Sarai cried.

“What! You mean she ran away! She disappeared again? It figures, just when things are getting difficult for the kingdom …”

“No! She’s dead, Elona. A dragon came and … and …” Sarai couldn’t finish; she crumpled in her chair with her face buried in her hands as her body shook with sobs.

“A dragon ate her.” Sergen dared to answer, his own voice shaking with grief and fear at the look his eldest sister turned on him.

“Is this some kind of sick jest?” She turned on her father.

“You know we would never jest of something so serious. Never! How could you not know, word was sent to your husband!” Even the King had tears in his eyes and they rolled unchecked down his grizzled cheeks.

Everyone around Elona started crying. Elona looked at all of them weeping around her. She let the news sink in: Sondra, eaten by a dragon, dead and gone forever. She threw her head back and laughed out loud.

The family stopped crying to stare at her; shocked, dismayed, and enraged at such disrespect. Elona kept laughing, her face turning red, then purple, her eyes nearly bulging out, as the laughter changed and grew harsh, coarse and ugly.

Sarai stood up, so angry with Elona that she actually moved to slap her sister despite the gracelessness of such an act. Her mother didn’t suffer such reservations and also jumped up, delivering a resounding slap to her daughter’s cheek. Elona’s head snapped back, and her wild terrible laughter changed into deep and broken sobs that caused her entire body to shudder in pain. Fat tears cut tracks down her cheeks, washing away powder and revealing purpled skin; her sobs became cries that escalated in volume until she fell screaming to her knees to pound the upholstery of the lounge.

The king jumped up and raced for the door, jerking it open and ordering the guard outside to send for a healer. His eldest daughter’s wails tore at their ears, ripped at their hearts. She screamed and screamed, shouting over and over, “I’m so sorry, no, it can’t be!” She began rocking back and forth on the floor while her sister, mother, and brother surrounded her, unsure what to do.

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Suddenly, her screams changed and she arched her back and clutched her stomach. Beneath her dress her stomach clenched, convulsed, and then relaxed. She collapsed and then screamed out again as the contractions began in earnest. Blood and fluid ran down her legs and pooled on the wooden floor, and the queen added her own shouts to the cacophony.

“Forget the healer, call the midwife! The baby is coming!” She shrieked, and hustled Sarai toward the sitting room. “Take Sergen with you, this is no place for maidens or men.” The queen raced back to the king and had to shake him from his tortured terror as he watched his daughter writhe in pain on the floor. “Go outside and join the guards; I will take care of this until the midwife arrives. Gods willing, we will be welcoming a new family member tonight.” She pushed him toward the door and ran to her daughter. Helping her move to the bed between contractions, she stroked Elona’s hair back with one hand while she clasped her other hand, trying not wince as Elona squeezed her hand with each agonizing contraction. Fear in her eyes, Elona looked desperately at her mother, nearly drowned by tears.

“I—I can’t—urgh …” she clenched her teeth against another contraction.

“It’s too soon, what will happen to my son? I can’t bear it if I lose this baby, Mama. I love him so much already.”

“Shh, it’s going to be okay, baby. He is strong; he will survive this just fine.

You hold on, help is coming.” The queen kissed her daughter’s sweating brow, her own heart squeezing at the thought that she might lose her daughter as well as the baby.

“Mama, Sondra … Sondra is really …” Elona struggled through the contraction.

“Don’t speak of it now, baby. You just focus on bringing this new life into the world with Vivacel’s blessing.”

Elona nodded, blinking the tears from her eyes. She centered her attention on the coming labor, determined to fight through this pain and eager to meet the child she already loved more than anything else in the world; the child for whom she’d already sacrificed more than her family could know.

The royal family finally retired into a dreamless slumber after the triumphant news came from the midwife and queen that Elona and her newborn baby boy were both fine and resting. Sarai found she could not sleep and instead crept down to her sister’s chambers, scratching softly at the door. A tired voice called “Come in.”

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Just inside the door, a healer’s apprentice dozed fitfully in a hard-backed vanity chair, her stones and incense tumbling out of the bag at her feet. The midwife, the high priestess of Vivacel’s temple herself, bustled quietly around the bed and the tiny three-sided cradle that set pushed up against it. Her white robes rustled softly in the candlelit darkness. Shadows from the white candles lit to keep Morbidon’s reapers at bay danced over her as she fussed and fidgeted.

She swaddled the minuscule bundle next to the bed until a pale hand waved her impatiently away and a croaky exhausted voice called from behind the bed hangings. “Well, who is it? Don’t just stand there, show yourself.”

“It’s me, Elona.” Sarai walked to the side of the bed, where she could see her sister, lying on her side facing the cradle, her arm stretched out and one long finger clasped firmly by a tiny hand. The baby lay barely visible amidst the swaddling despite the free arm, but Sarai could just make out a small, perfect little face with tightly closed eyes and red skin slowly pinking with each shallow breath the newborn took.