The Princess's Dragon (35 page)

By now it was sundeath, and Sondra didn’t even know how many cycles had passed since she had snuck past her guards into this trap. That she was the intended victim she had no doubt. She could think of many reasons why the Halidorians wanted to kidnap her, but none of them comforted her. After all, they had a good reason to dislike her since she destroyed their monstrous war-creatures. She guessed they must know that she was the one that did it; everyone in Ariva knew it, and it wouldn’t take much work on the part of a spy to figure it out. She slumped onto the cot, deciding that she might as well try to rest until her captors paid her a visit.

Several hours later, as the room lay dark and silent, Sondra jerked awake at the sound of the key turning in the lock. She quickly stood, staring at the shadowy portal and waiting to see who entered. The door swung open and a

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guard stepped through carrying a lantern. Following him, a man of medium height and lean muscle stepped into the circle of light cast by the lantern.

Sondra didn’t recognize him, but she felt certain she would have if she’d ever met him before. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, lacking the rugged good looks of Derek, but his skin was a beautiful golden color, his features were finely wrought and elegant, he had a strong masculine nose, short black hair that swallowed the light, and intense dark eyes that swept the room until they alit on her. Like the guard, the man wore a black uniform coat bearing the Morbidon skull helm. The fabric appeared to be the same linen material as the other guard’s uniform, though his buttons were silver rather than black.

Despite his unremarkable clothing, Sondra knew the man was important. She saw it in the way he carried himself, the confidence in the set of his thin but shapely lips, the way the guard bowed as he entered.

The stranger smiled when he saw Sondra, and his brilliant white teeth flashed. His smile was so friendly and engaging that Sondra nearly smiled back before catching herself. He dipped his head slightly in greeting.

“Welcome, Princess Casiondra. I apologize for the inadequate accommodations.” The man’s voice was rich and rolling, the charismatic tone of a great orator. He had a slight accent but spoke flawless Arivan.

“I’m afraid you have the advantage on me, sir. You know who I am but I have no idea who you might be.” His lips tightened just slightly before he responded with another lovely smile.

“Of course, forgive me, where are my manners. I am Prince Onian, son and heir to the throne of Halidor.” The prince bowed in greeting, his movement arrogant and slightly mocking.

Sondra hadn’t expected a prince; a general, perhaps. Every prince she’d ever met—and they had been admittedly few—were little more than ornately decorated puppets, boasting flawless manners and empty skulls. This man, this prince, dressed like a soldier: the sword belt around his waist simple and functional, not a jewel anywhere on the hilt of the weapon. He bore the intensity of a warrior rather than the frivolity and vanity of a pampered statesman.

Despite the fact that she admired his complete lack of wealthy pretension, Sondra could never forget that this was the man who had brought war to her people and all in the name of greed, unconcerned with how many lives were lost.

“I see I am finally face to face with my enemy. I cannot imagine what you 210

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hoped to gain by abducting me; my father will not pay ransom. He has three other children to carry on his line.” Sondra hoped he wouldn’t decide that he no longer needed her and dispose of her.

“Of course not, Princess; we do not resort to such foolish antics as ransom demands. I have brought you here for another reason entirely. I would like to extend an offer to you. You see, I am aware of your … shall we call it—unusual nature. I vastly admire your abilities and appreciate them as your own superstitious and judgmental citizens cannot. Only look at how your own people treated you when you sought to aid them. Even now my … friends … in Ariva tell me that the people mutter about what should be done, whether they should demand that your own father lock you away because you might prove dangerous to them someday.”

Sondra gasped, unwilling to believe the prince. His eyes narrowed on her and he walked forward, his expression radiating sympathy.

“Oh, but you did not know. Of course your family would seek to protect you from hearing about such horrible ingratitude. But let me ask you, Princess Casiondra, how long can your father hold off the angry mob when they come seeking your blood? Your people, they fear you—and fear will drive them to destroy you. I cannot bear to see such an eventuality come to pass. You are far too incredible a creature to die at the hands of ignorant peasants.”

“You lie,” Sondra whispered, willing herself to believe that the prince spoke falsehoods even when she suspected that he did not. Even if he lied, there was a grain of truth in his words, for hadn’t she experienced some of the fear herself?

Fear from servants who had known her all her life, yet now hid whenever she rounded a corner. He came closer, sympathetic and compassionate.

“You know that I do not lie. I can see the realization in your eyes. You must understand that people who live in ignorance can never appreciate your glory.

They hate you. These are the people you defended, and they demand your death. I believe you are magnificent. I wish to make you a hero, a mascot for my new empire. You see—” Prince Onian turned and started to pace, each step measured, his fantastic voice ringing out with avid conviction as he began his oration—“the kingdom of Halidor is dying along with my father, poisoned by excess and overindulgence in wasteful luxuries. I have plans to usher in a new era, an era of industrious progress, an era of expansion and empowerment for all of Halidor’s citizens …”

“Except for their women,” Sondra interrupted.

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“No, Princess,” the Prince turned, his face glowing with his enthusiasm,

“unlike so many others in my country I am well aware of the intelligence and untapped abilities of the fairer sex. I would see all citizens, men and women alike, stand on equal footing. I would see women trained in the same trades and skills as men and work alongside them. Ah, I see that now I have your attention. Even in your own kingdom, women have very few rights. In Halidor, I would change all of that. But change is costly, and my father’s excesses have drained our treasury. That is why I attacked Ariva. I need the revenue from those mines to implement this wondrous new era. Do you see, Princess? I am not a monster, just a man that loves his kingdom and his people so much that he will do whatever it takes to see them prosper.” He was a powerful speaker, Sondra couldn’t deny it; and for a moment she wished there was a way to help him achieve those marvelous goals without attacking Ariva. His charisma and enthusiasm were difficult to deny, especially since what he said sounded so reasonable. She couldn’t help him, of course, even if she was willing to betray her own country and slaughter her own people, which she most certainly was not. She did not have the power to change her own shape, not that she would let him know that. She suspected such a confession might just find her in Morbidon’s kingdom before the sunbirth.

“I think you have admirable goals, but it isn’t worth the cost of so many lives simply to improve your kingdom. I will not betray Ariva.” The prince stopped his pacing and approached her again.

“Princess, I am asking you out of respect for your remarkable abilities. Do not believe that I will simply allow you to turn down my offer and walk away.

If you agree and work with me, you will find your life much easier. I will allow you to consider your options until sunbirth, then I will expect an answer, and I hope for your sake that it is the right one.” He flashed her another beautiful white smile and strode to the door.

“One more thing, in case you are thinking of changing into your other form and escaping. You should know that I have already had my wizards en-spell this entire room. If you change into your dragon form, the wards will trap you here. Sleep well, Princess.”

He left the room and the guard followed, taking the lamp with him and plunging Sondra into darkness. She heard the lock click on the door and collapsed on the cot. She had no idea how she could escape this mess. She would die before agreeing to attack Ariva, and she most likely would die if she 212

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did not. Then there was the whole problem of her inability to shape-shift. She buried her face in her hands and gave in to the need to cry, her sobs shaking the whole frame of the cot as she wallowed in the hopelessness of her situation, knowing it would only get worse.

True to his word, Prince Onian returned at sunbirth, bringing six guards with him. The first guard entered the room, and Onian followed. Sondra realized that he expected her to attack or make a move, hence the armed guard preceding him. The five other guards followed. This wasn’t looking good for her.

“Good morning, Princess, I hope you slept well.” His eyes swept the chamber, noting that everything remained where it belonged, even to the chamber pot beneath the cot that Sondra gratefully found the previous night.

Sondra remained silent. The prince came closer, but it was his guards closing around her that felt the most threatening. “So, do you have an answer for me this morning?”

“It’s still no, Prince Onian. I will not betray Ariva.” Sondra’s voice shook with fear. She knew she was doing the right thing but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t get her killed. The prince sighed.

“How disappointing that you wish to do this the hard way.” He motioned to his men and they jumped on her before she could move, dragging her to the chair in the room as she struggled and bit and kicked. They lashed her to the chair and she screamed at them, epithets that she’d overheard passing the servant’s quarters but never personally used.

“Such foul language for a princess,” Onian tsked. He walked up to her and she spat at him. He slapped her across the face as casually as he might brush back her hair. Her head snapped back and she couldn’t stop the startled oww that escaped her stinging lips.

“Really, Princess, your behavior begs the question of whether you are truly of noble blood.”

She struggled against the ropes, but the guards tied them so tightly that they bit deeply into her arms and chest, bruising her with every movement and cutting off her breath.

“Now, I shall ask you again, before things grow really unpleasant, will you join Halidor voluntarily? I promise you, I shall spare your entire family. I will have to kill the Warlord you understand. I realize that he is important to you, but he is far too dangerous to remain alive.”

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Sondra strained against the ropes, struggling for air. Her outrage at the callous offer nearly choked off her reply. “Never! I will never help you.” Onian shook his head and turned away. He nodded to the guards.

“I don’t care if you break any bones, but do spare her face; it is such a shame to scar a lovely woman, don’t you think,” he asked the guard. “I will return again, this centerday. I trust I will find you more cooperative.” He left the room as the guards moved in to beat Sondra, closing the door on her screams and the sound of fists meeting flesh.

Sondra lay crumpled against the ropes for a long time after the guards finished and left. They were experts at what they did; beating her until just before she passed out, stealing the comfort of oblivion from her and leaving her locked in a world of pain. From her neck down she hurt; every breath she took brought tears to her eyes and took her to the abyss of unconsciousness but never into it. She knew that several ribs were broken. She didn’t know about her arms, but she was certain she had a broken leg. Her entire body swelled from the merciless beating but the guards remained true to their orders, they hadn’t touched her face. She cried softly, each sob wracking her with more pain.

She knew she was going to die here and probably in a horrible manner. This pain, this suffering, was only the beginning.

The sound of the key in the lock had her tensing up, crying out in pain.

The guard entered, followed by the prince and then the five other guards. It must be centerday. He’d come for his answer, and despite her agony Sondra would not give him what he wanted.

He came up to her, leaning down and studying her face, his expression a mockery of sympathy.

“Poor Princess Casiondra, it doesn’t need to be this hard. Simply say the words, and I will order a healer and food at once. Why suffer? Who do you martyr yourself for? Countrymen who clamor for your death? A family I promise to spare, or a kingdom of no consequence? Or perhaps you fear for your lover, your Warlord? Give in, Princess, and you shall have all the glory you deserve; you will never want for anything again. Continue to defy me and you will only bring yourself more pain.”

Sondra lifted her head, looked into his austere and attractive features, so close to her own and spat, striking him right on his high, unlined forehead. He pulled back, his face burning with fury as he wiped away the spittle.

“Untie her!” he shouted at the guards.

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One of them moved to her chair and cut her free. Onian jumped on her the moment the ropes fell away, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the wall and slamming her against it.

She cried out at the pain from her broken leg and ribs and the thousand bruises on her body. He pressed her into the wall with his hard body, his hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back at an unnatural angle as his breath scorched hot and furious in her ear.

“You are an unmarried noblewoman, so pure and untouched.” He ground his body against her, his erection hard against her backside. “If you wish to remain that way then I suggest you cooperate.” He leaned closer, licked her ear, and chuckled as she shuddered in revulsion.

“I will take you first, Princess, while my guards watch and then I will let them have you until they grow tired or bored. I assure you, we will not be gentle.”