A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia) (3 page)

A dragon appeared at the door, and Bronwyn’s heart missed a beat. This dragon was smaller than she remembered Symbothial being (and certainly smaller than Bertholimous), with pale yellow scales that shimmered in the candlelight. Appetizing aromas drifted from the tray she carried, and Bronwyn realized it couldn’t be the queen—not serving dinner. She relaxed.

“Ah, Guildelea, thank you.” Bertholimous stood and bowed.

She set the tray on the table and placed full plates in front of everyone, including Sinjenasta, who ate in front of the fire. “Eat up, young humans. If you wish for more, let Master Bertholimous know.” They thanked her, and she retreated.

Bronwyn again opened her mouth, looked at Bertholimous and closed it, interrupted by Arie who shoved a forkful of meat stew into his mouth and started talking. “Do any of the lady dragonth have hornsth?” A small piece of carrot flew across the table and landed on Blayke’s hand.

“Oh yuck! Jeez, Arie. Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Blayke wiped the back of his hand on his tunic.

“Good observation, Arie,” said Bertholimous. “The male dragons have stubs of horns until they reach fifty; then they start growing. We only get one set, so we have to be careful with them. In war times, it’s common for many of the males to lose one or both of their horns in battle. It’s a testament to the peaceful times of the past few years that most of the male dragons have both horns. Females don’t grow them.”

“Do dragonesses fight when there’s a war?” Bronwyn hoped she wasn’t overstepping any boundaries. She wasn’t sure what would, or wouldn’t, offend a dragon, and seeing as how she had managed to get on the wrong side of one of the most important dragons—the queen—she was mindful not to add other dragons to the list of
Dragons who want to kill Bronwyn
.
Gods, I hope that list doesn’t exist.

“No. They’re too valuable to risk. Things would have to be pretty desperate for us to involve them. Their job is to hatch eggs and keep Vellonia running smoothly.”

Bronwyn didn’t answer. She looked around as the boys ate, oblivious to what the dragon had said. Typical. The topic didn’t concern them: they could do what they wanted, when they wanted. Contemplating a life of hanging around the house, doing nothing but hatching eggs and serving dinner was not Bronwyn’s idea of fun. Since starting this journey with Avruellen, her eyes had been opened to a life of possibility and adventure. Although there were some moments she would rather forget, she had experienced some of the best times of her life. She wondered if the dragonesses were happy with their situation: who knows; maybe they were.

After some boisterous chitchat, they finished dinner, and Bertholimous rose. “Okay, humans, it’s time to go to work. I’m taking you to see one of our realmists
—Arcese, Princess Arcese.”

Bronwyn was almost happy—for just one minute—that she wasn’t going directly to the queen, until she realized one thing. “You mean she’s the queen’s daughter?” Bronwyn paled.

“Yes, she most certainly is. Let’s go.”

As they walked out, Bronwyn dawdled at the rear. Sinjenasta caught up and nuzzled her hand.
It’ll be all right. I promise
.

She looked at him and spoke aloud, “I might feel better if it didn’t sound like you were trying to convince yourself.”

The nausea returned, and Bronwyn wondered if she would survive her first lesson with the dragon princess.

Verity rode Puddles, her mud-coloured horse, and Boy rode beside her on a pony. He had never ridden prior to coming to the castle, and he didn’t trust animals. Verity had taken him out riding a few times since Prince Leon had departed, but Boy refused to ride a large beast, only agreeing to go when Verity picked out Chalk—a small, docile pony that Boy was actually beginning to like.

The sun shone, warming the day. Security had increased around Bayerlon since the king had left, and Queen Gabrielle had reluctantly agreed to let Verity ride outside the protective city walls. Verity’s nagging had won out, and the queen sent four of the more experienced castle guards with her daughter and Boy.

Verity breathed deep of the fresh air outside the city, shut her eyes and turned her face to the sun. The warmth made her content, and she thought of her tabby cat who loved to sit on her bed in the morning sun.

Boy interrupted her basking. “There’s a good place for our picnic over there.” He pointed to some well-spaced trees that marked the entry to the forest. “Remember the place you showed me the day Leon left?”

“Oh, yes. That’s a great idea. I was thinking of that myself. Okay, last one to the trees is a pile of horse dung.” Verity kicked her horse into a gallop, her laughter and fair hair streaming out behind her. Boy kicked his pony, but they both knew he would never win. Winning this race wasn’t his objective anyway. Perculus had sent Boy a message a few days ago
, followed by one last night. Today was the day Leon had warned him to watch for.

He reached the trees and slowed his horse to a walk, relaxing his hands from their vice-like grip on the reins. Verity’s brown eyes were bright, her smile broad—Boy couldn’t help but smile back. He enjoyed spending time with her, and found himself staring more than he would’ve liked. She had taken to teaching him the alphabet and numbers—knowledge he never would have gained in his old life. On the occasions she’d caught him staring, she’d giggled and tousled his hair before saying how she would have loved to have a little brother.

They negotiated the narrowing track until they came to the clearing. A circle of lush grass stretched from tree to tree. Verity and Boy dismounted. One of the guards had the picnic hamper strapped to his horse. “Is this spot all right, Princess Verity?”

“That’s perfect. Thank you, Reglan.”

The gray-haired soldier spread a rug on the ground and placed the picnic basket down before returning to his horse, and protective duty. The princess took the food out of the basket, scooping out freshly-picked strawberries; a loaf of bread that contained dark pieces of salty olives and sprinklings of herbs in its doughy embrace; tomatoes; and a chunk of a fragrant, orange cheese—a delicacy made from the milk of the plack, a long-haired, larger relative of the goat. Placks originated from mountains in the north but couldn’t survive the warmer climes of Veresia. The cheese had to endure at least a week of travelling before it reached Bayerlon.

Boy’s mouth watered. He sat. Verity sliced the bread into thick pieces and did the same with the cheese and tomato. They chewed in silence and listened to the chirping of fat, round blue jays. The princess spoke, “Do you miss Prince Leon?”

“Um, not really, Princess. It’s fun to hang out with you and learn stuff. Sorry you got stuck with me though.” He let his fringe fall over his eyes, not wanting to see if she really felt “stuck” with minding him.

“Don’t be silly, Boy! It’s been fun having company that’s not so much older than me. I’m not allowed to spend time with normal people—by that I mean people
who aren’t trying to teach me, protect me, or get something out of me. It’s nice to just chat with someone who has no ulterior motives, other than having fun.” She smiled the smile that set off butterflies in his stomach.

He peered through his hair. “Do you ever wish you weren’t a princess?”

She thought for a minute. “Hmm, sometimes. It’s a lot of work, and having to be nice to everyone all the time can be tiring too. But you know, when I see the beggars at the bottom end of the city, I know I’m lucky. Other girls dream of having what I have. How could I not be happy? Being lonely is a small price to pay. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll make a difference to people’s lives, a real difference.”

“I hope you do, Princess Verity.”

They finished lunch, and as they packed their things away, the birds stopped singing. Heavy silence settled. The two guards who’d stayed in the clearing looked at each other before Reglan spoke, “Princess Verity and Boy, get on your horses.”

He was already untethering Puddles. Verity ran towards him and mounted. She was not used to panicking but knew to listen when she was told.

Screams penetrated the clearing. Regnus and Brooklyn drew swords and mounted. Regnus slapped the rump of Verity’s horse with the flat of his blade. “Brooklyn, ride with her. Go.” Before Regnus rode in the opposite direction, he turned to Boy who stood, confused, next to Chalk. “Boy! Ride to the castle. Make sure Princess Verity gets there, and tell Captain Gaston to reinforce the garrison and shut the city gates. I have a bad feeling about this. Go, Boy. Go!” Regnus rode the opposite way, the hairs on his arms standing up from unseen energy.

***

Queen Gabrielle paced the throne room, too agitated to sit. Why did everything have to go wrong when Edmund was gone? She supposed things probably went wrong when he was here too, but he was experienced at dealing with the complexities and politics of everyday life—he possessed more patience than she.

“So Perculus, tell me again why I can’t tell Duke Fortescue to pay the back-taxes he owes. The money will go a hell of a way to paying the food bill for the orphanage for the next two years.” She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at the rotund advisor.

He smiled his oily smile, the patronizing one where his lips remained closed and his head tilted to the left. The queen wished she were a dragon. She so wanted to breathe fire and watch Perculus disintegrate. Gabrielle opened her mouth and, disappointed when no fire materialized, closed it again.

“Well, my queen, if you understood the tax system, you wouldn’t have to ask me that question.”

“I don’t have to understand the tax system. I have an advisor. You are the advisor, aren’t you?”

“Ahem. Yes, and you should just trust I know what I’m talking about.”

And there was the problem. She didn’t trust him. Gabrielle contemplated how she could make his life more difficult, when two men rushed into the room. They stopped and bowed. Dirt smudged their faces, their clothes were ripped, faces unshaven, and their hair was the consistency of straw. Recognizing the two men, she quickly hid her surprise and didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. One wore a coat that marked him as the captain of Edward’s bodyguard. He spoke. “Forgive us for the intrusion, my Queen. I need to speak to King Edmund. Now.”

“That’s all right, Pernus. What are you doing back here? Has something happened? Is Leon…?” It was difficult to look concerned rather than excited at the thought the prince might be dead.

“Not that I know of. I would prefer if we spoke in private, with the king.”

“Follow me.” Gabrielle took one step forward, and Boy ran into the room, sliding on the tiles and careening into Fendill.

“Whoa. Careful, young man.”

“Sorry, sir.” Boy untangled himself from Fendill’s gray robe and looked at the queen. He spoke through quick breaths, “They’ve taken Verity.” The queen froze and felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

Pernus leant down and grabbed the child’s arm. “Who are
they
? Answer me. Quickly!”

“The… they were wearing gray clothes, and their faces were covered. I saw them try and grab the princess, but Brooklyn stepped in. He injured one, but there were four, and one made some kind of magic. They made a lightning bolt come from the sky. They killed Sergeant Brooklyn.”

“Where did this happen?” Pernus kneeled in front of Boy, keeping hold of his arm.

“About two miles from the castle. I rode Chalk as fast as I could. I’m sorry.” Boy remembered Verity’s screams. She was the first person who had been truly nice to him. He had betrayed her.

Pernus dropped his arm and pushed Boy towards Gabrielle. “Take him to your room and make sure he stays safe. He’s our only witness. Come on, Fendill. We need to go. Now.” The men ran out.

Wading through her shock, the queen spoke to the first-year guard who had run after Pernus when he’d arrived. “Find Captain Gaston and send him to my chambers. Hurry.” She turned to Perculus. “And you. You tell Duke Fortescue he has one month to pay what he owes. If he doesn’t, we will confiscate lands to the value of what he owes us. Is that clear?”

Perculus pursed his lips and retrieved his sly smile. “Of course, Your Majesty. If there are repercussions, I trust you will tell Edmund they were your fault.”

Speaking through clenched teeth, Gabrielle growled more than spoke, “Get out before I lose my patience. I would hate to have to explain to my husband how his advisor ended up in the dungeon.” Turning her back on him, she knelt down to Boy. “Did they hurt my daughter?” She held her breath.

“Not that I could see. She was struggling and screaming. But when they carried her off, she didn’t look hurt. I didn’t hang around in case they grabbed me.”

“That’s okay. You did the right thing.”

Tears glazed Boy’s eyes, and she put her arms around him. When Boy’s tears came, the queen couldn’t tell, but they were from guilt. If Leon killed Verity, he would never forgive himself. If he told the queen what he knew, she would never believe him—he’d probably end up in the dungeon, not to mention creepy Perculus would probably kill him. Boy cried on the queen’s shoulder. He didn’t want to tell her the truth—they had knocked Verity unconscious. He remembered her limp body, her head and arms bouncing as one of the gray men carried her away. His tears came faster. What the hell had he done?