Dragon Legends (Return of the Darkening Book 2) (13 page)

A man wearing a white wig with delicate ringlets, a deep red jacket with golden buttons and a pair of tight, black leggings—the sort that mother always preferred on men, thinking it showed style—stepped down from the carriage.

Matron was right—he looked a fancy fool.

“Francis,” I said, recognizing our footman. He looked little older around the eyes with a few more wrinkles, but he had served our household all my life. I had never seen him express more emotion than a twitch of a corner of a mouth or a slightly raised eyebrow. He opened the door for me and offered a hand to help me up. I didn’t need the help and jumped inside.

As I was settling my other dress on the seat opposite me, Francis gave a nod and with a fraction of a smile said, “Glad to have you back in the fold, my lady.” He shut the door with a click.

To me, it sounded like the clang of a prison gate.

*

I’ll say this for my mother—she gave everything of herself to the causes she believed in, even if the cause was just keeping up appearances. My carriage joined a small line of other carriages heading toward the palace, which had been built a little above Torvald.

The city was built on concentric, raised terraces and layers, but the palace sat enclosed with its own pale, stone walls and gardens. Beyond it, fine orchards and then woods led up to Dragon Mountain. It was a landscape I knew well, but it had been a long time since I’d been to the many-spired palace. Even I felt a little awed by its size and elegance.

The palace was actually made of up of a lot of outer walls and several buildings, each one fitting a different purpose. I’d been in the coop-like round building that was the Royal Library, and the cathedral-like spire of the Royal Astronomer’s tower, but I had no idea what the other ten buildings were. Thin bridges connected one tower and building to another. Along the walls, the place guards lived in smaller houses. But the main structure was an older castle of blocky stone, with buttresses jutting out, towers soaring high and pennants flapping.

Tonight flaming torches lit the road to the palace, and huge braziers burned beside the entrance. I knew the main hall led to stairs that went up to a ballroom in the center of the castle. My brothers and I had once played on those stairs, running up and down and hiding behind the tapestries in the ballroom.

The carriage wheels crunched on the fine gravel between outer gate and the inner castle and then stopped. I stepped out without waiting for Francis and I saw my mother sweeping down the white, stone steps toward me.

She wore a deep red dress, our house color, beaded with obsidian and malachite so that it almost seemed as if she wore dragon scales. Around the neck, gold wire glittered in the light of the flames. Her sleeves were long, and exploded into tongues of orange and yellow.

Ignoring the other lords, ladies and guests as they disembarked their own carriages, she called out, “My child, Agathea.”

Face hot, I accepted her clasping my hands. “Mother, it’s not as if I’ve been held captive in a dungeon for months.”

Her mouth pulled down. She looked as she always had—beautiful and perfect. Her blue eyes pale and flashing, and her skin even more pale. She wore her hair up and in an arrangement of curls that must have taken hours. Either that or it was a wig. She touched a finger to my cheek. “You didn’t wait for Francis to help you down. Do you want others to think you an ill-mannered Wildman?”

“Mother,” I managed to say from between clenched teeth. “It’s obvious I’m no man, and I am a Dragon Rider.”

She waved away that idea. “The long dress looks perfect on you. Just what I wished you to choose. What about the short one? When you dance, we want to show off your legs.”

I decided right there I wasn’t changing dresses. I tried to cross my arms, but the dress wouldn’t let me. “Who has time to change?” I asked.

“Oh my child, the king will think we’ve become penniless. I’ll send Francis for it.”

Linking my arm through hers, I started to pull her up the steps with me. “No, mother, you won’t. No one at the academy has time for this and I have to get back to help, too. So let us enjoy the evening that we have, and you can tell everyone I’m setting a new fashion.”

Her eyes brightened. “Yes…yes. Now that you are a Dragon Rider, the Flamma household has a new-found minimalism and courageous attitude toward money and dresses. Just one dress for us. I won’t change either,” she whispered. She nodded to the servants at the main doors and gave them our names, then turned to me. “Now, Agathea, I have some news.”

“From Ryan and Reynalt?” I asked, my pulse quickening.

“What? Why would I need to know about any events in the provinces? No, the last news was quite dreadful about King’s Village and I wish to hear no more. This is about Lord Westerforth. He wishes you to dance with his eldest, Terence. There’s no match there for you, but I will ask you to at least show some manners.”

I sighed. “You want me to flirt and smile like I haven’t a brain?”

My mother waved her hand. “Don’t be dim, Agathea. It doesn’t suit you.”

The doormen nodded to the crier, who blew a small silver horn and announced, “Lady Flamma and Lady Agathea.”

My mother, with a grip as strong as a dragon’s claw, pulled me into the stiff faces of Torvald society. I could hear music from stringed instruments—something staid and polite being played, nothing you’d ever hear in any inn. People bowed or nodded at Mother and me, we bowed or nodded back. Leaning closer, she told me, “King Durance himself may request a dance with you and I will not have you disgrace our house with poor manners.” She managed to talk without disturbing the beaming smile on her face.

“And?” I asked, as my mother led me deeper into the ballroom. Vivid colors swirled around me, and the room seemed hot with the candles burning overhead in heavy chandeliers.

Her smile widened. “The wishes of a king and a prince trump those of a mere lord. Do your best to charm the king, then perhaps you can give Westerforth no more than a smile and your regrets.”

My stomach seemed to hollow. I put my hand over it. “Are you matchmaking with me and the prince?”

She patted my hand and turned to a lord with very short black hair and a fine, black brocade jacket. “Lord Franbury, what a pleasant surprise. Did you bring your darling daughter, Yolanda? Oh yes, there she is. I quite mistook her for someone else. Such a little thing.” She smiled and swept past the startled Lord Franbury. I glanced back to see Yolanda burst into tears.

“Mother,” I whispered. “There was no need for that.”

“Yes, dear, there was. You’ll understand one day when you have your own daughter. Now let us go and meet some of the better people.”

Letting her drag me around the ballroom, I started to look for the king. He was the only person I wanted to speak with tonight. Looking for the king, I wondered if any of the lords or ladies here really was working for the Darkening. When I’d been a girl, the palace had seemed almost magical to me, a world of gold and silver and jewels. Now I kept seeing shadowed corners and what looked like a lot of silly people who didn’t want to know about the dangers outside these walls. And maybe even inside. The windows along one wall of the ballroom gleamed with the reflected glow of the chandeliers and the people moving about. Was everyone here loyal? Or had some decided the Darkening would win and so sided with Lord Vincent? Or were some even under the control of the Memory Stone? Lord Vincent had been able to control entire villages—managing a few lords and ladies would be easy.

Uneasy, I kept looking around. The floor was marble and tiled and a circular higher level, larger than the practice yard at the academy, stood empty. The king and his choice of lady would dance there. Everyone else would dance on the next level down.

A thought from Kalax suddenly intruded.
Mates want to see how you fly.

I choked back a laugh that had my mother glancing back at me with a frown. But I had to agree with Kalax—I’d want to see any potential mate up in the air on the back of dragon. Kalax had no use for fancy clothes, but she liked the gold and jewels she picked up from my mind.

“Are you quite well?” my mother said.

I smiled and nodded. “I’m fine. Just a little tired—and hungry.” I headed toward one of the small tables set out on the side of the ballroom with food and goblets of wine.

“One glass, Agathea. Remember a lady has a bird-like appetite and the grace of a swan. And bring me a goblet while I bid Lady Gertrude good evening.” She turned to a large woman in a blue gown and a heavy white wig.

Breathing out a breath—my ribs were aching from this dress—I headed to the table and loaded a plate with meat and pastries. I downed a goblet of wine and picked up one for my mother. Turning, I found a large a man with a thin, yellowing beard and errant tufts of gray hair behind his ears. His coat was decorated with medals.

He smiled at me. “Ah, Agathea Flamma.”

I stiffened. I was about to ask just who he thought he was to address me as if I was one of his family when I noticed the two young men lurking behind him, both of them skinny and looking like the sneaks they were.

“Lord Westerforth,” I said and managed a nod.

My mother bustled between us, took the plate from my fingers and made it disappear somehow, whisked away the goblet and gave everyone a cool, disapproving smile. “Westerforth. Please. No woman likes to be accosted on her return to court.”

He put a hand on his chest, but he also took a step back. “My sons and I were only eager to welcome her.” Westerforth bowed more deeply to my mother, and then waved his sons forward. “Terence and Tomas, make your bows.”

They did so, the oldest, Terence, was a year younger than me, five inches shorter with wispy blond hair and sharp, sulky features. He looked as if he hated being here, but he swept into a perfect bow and extending his hand to me. I glanced at my mother and she was already staring at me, willing me to behave.

Trapped, I briefly touched his hand with mine and turned to his brother.

Tomas looked round as a ball—round face, round body, and he had to be at least three years younger than his brother. He kept peering over my shoulder at the food and I almost wanted to grab his hand and pull him with me so we could both eat. The food smelled wonderful and I hadn’t had time to stop at the keep for even a crust of bread.

“Tomas,” Lord Westerforth said with a low growl.

Ducking his head as if he expected a swat, Tomas bowed. He looked thoroughly miserable, and I started to feel sorry for him. It couldn’t be easy living with his father, or that weasel brother of his, and it’d be even worse since everyone pretty much knew to avoid the whole family.

“Lovely to see you and now we really must attend to the king.” My mother began to sweep me away.

“Ah, but he’s not yet—” The blare of a horn cut off his words and stopped the music and all other talk. The wide doors at the far end of the ballroom swung open and the crystal-clear tones of the crier called, “Lords and ladies, King Durance.”

Everyone turned, and Mother swept us away from the Westerforths, propelling us both into the king’s path, where we made our bows.

King Durance looked so much like his son—with high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes—that there could be no mistaking them as anything but father and son. I remembered him from years ago when he’d been lean and graceful—very much like Prince Justin. His figure had thickened and he moved with just a slight hesitation, as if he had to be careful of not jarring old injuries. He wore a short cloak of midnight blue over a high-collared jacket of deep gold, with black leggings and soft, black boots.

As he saw me, his eyes seemed to brighten. “Ah, Lady Agathea. You’ve grown into a fine, young woman,” he said, his voice low and horse, and just a touch vague.

“Your Majesty.” I bowed again.

King Durance turned to my mother. “Esmerelda, would it be possible for me to steal your daughter away from you for just a moment. On behalf of my son, I wish to claim the first dance with her.” He smiled at her and then at me.

Even though I was certain this was exactly what my mother had wanted, the reality of the king wishing to stand in for his son here still seemed to overwhelm her.

She gasped and managed to say, “I am certain Agathea would be delighted.”

What I was, was someone who suddenly felt stupid and clumsy. With all the eyes of the court now on me—and most everyone scowling—I wished I had an excuse to leave. But I’d come here to talk to the king and I wouldn’t have a better chance than in a dance. Besides, I’d had dancing lessons. A very long time ago.

King Durance raised a white-gloved hand and took my fingers in the gentlest of grips. The musicians struck up the chords of a new dance, and the king led me across the dance floor and helped me up the step to the reserved, royal circle.

My heart was pounding harder than it had when Kalax had chosen me as her rider. Oh, I’d met the king any number of times, but somehow I needed to tell him his kingdom was in grave danger, the Memory Stone had been stolen from him, and there might be a traitor right here in the palace. Somehow I had to get him to believe all that.

He took my other hand and said, “Do not worry, my dear. I am not so bad a dancer as they say!”

I realized I must look pale and shaken, but it wasn’t because I was worried I’d forgotten all of the steps. I was worried about bigger things.