Dragonborn (The Jade Lee Romantic Fantasies, Book 1) (31 page)

Her friend shrugged, and she knew the gesture gave him great pain. "My risk was my own," he said.

She shook her head, already turning back to the Emperor. "Release him and all these people. Clean them up, get them some decent food and give them enough money for a full cycle's food and lodging. They have suffered enough for their crimes."

Dag Racho was leaning against the bars of Pentold's cage, his head tilted to one side. As he studied her, his attitude remained relaxed, even curious. "Why should I do that?"

"I told you. Because they have suffered enough."

"You do not know—"

"Nor do I need to."

He tilted his head toward the cell behind her. "What about her? Do you wish her to be released?"

Natiya twisted, looking over her shoulder to see a woman, obviously weak, her hair a matted shroud twisted about her face like rotting weeds. And yet, as she watched, the woman pushed herself to her feet, gathering a kind of dignity and beauty despite her condition.

"Sabina."

"She tried to kill you."

"With good reason." Natiya didn't dare look into Sabina's eyes when she spoke. She was ashamed to realize that she had allowed the guards to drag the woman away and not given her another thought since. Hadn't she learned as a child that even the smallest action had consequences? If not for herself, then for someone else? Someone like a small, young child, suddenly without family because her parents had found a dragon egg.

"Yes," Natiya said firmly, turning back to the Emperor. "Release her as well."

"And how do you intend to repay me for such beneficence, my dear? Why should I do these things for you? I assure you, their crimes have not been paid for. They should be thanking me that they still live."

This time, she was the one who laughed. "Let us not pretend. They live because you think they have value. Even I know that Sabina can take the meanest copper chamber pot and work it into a treasure fit for an Emperor. And perhaps you have no interest in Pentold's poetry, but he is the only son of the greatest merchant in Ragona. Perhaps his value lays there." She gestured to all the other cells and people who one by one were struggling to their feet as they listened to her words. "I do not even know these other souls' names, but I would swear they each know something or have something you want. I am most interested to learn what that is and how they would use it—"

"They would use it to destroy us!" he interrupted, but she waved the comment away.

"Are you so afraid, Emperor? Of this lot?"

His eyes narrowed, and he advanced on her. Not to defend his pride. That would be too easy. But to tower over her in a type of intimidation that—in this light and this place—was quite effective. "Do not try my patience with stupidity, little girl. I rule because I defeated the dragonlords. Because I formed a government and built a nation out of ragtag refugees. It is because of me that the land is now green and our people fat."

She looked at him, taking her time to notice his strength, his genuine pride in what he had accomplished. "Indeed, my lord, you have done much. But to what end?"

He blinked, clearly confused. "For safety, of course! So that what we have is safe."

"We
are
safe, my lord." She advanced on him, seeing if she could get him to understand. "These people, Rashad. Who are they? Are they the ones who steal and threaten the people of Ragona? Are they invaders from another land? Who do they threaten?"

"Ragona!"

"Ragona?" she challenged. "Or you?"

"We are one and the same!" he bellowed, abruptly shoving her away from him. His push was not hard, merely surprising, and she too ungainly to adjust. She stumbled backward, falling against the bars of Sabina's cell. Pentold surged forward, reaching for her despite his grimace of pain. There was little he could do, of course, but Natiya smiled at him. From behind, she heard Sabina step forward, pushing her hand out to help her regain balance.

All the while, the Emperor stood above her, his breathing loud as he struggled to control his emotions. Outside she heard the roar of his Copper, giving distant vent to the anger that Rashad could not contain. It was only his desire for Natiya's Queen that kept her alive right now. And so she banked on that, for that was all she—and those around her—had on their side.

"You should be more careful, Rashad," she said softly. "You might have hurt the egg."

Fear flashed in his eyes, but was quickly covered by a childish bravado. He squared his shoulders, smoothing his tunic with shaking hands. "You are unharmed. But let this be a warning to you, Natiya: Do not try my patience." And then, clearly gaining strength from his words, he folded his arms across his chest and began looking about him. "Now, as for these prisoners. You wish me to release them?"

She was balanced again on her own swollen feet, and she nodded, but was abruptly afraid that she had overplayed her hand. Would he kill them all just to spite her?

"I ask again: What shall you give me, my dear, to do as you request? How shall you pay me for my beneficence?"

"Oh, my lord," she gasped with mock embarrassment. "I am afraid you do not understand. It is you who must pay
me
. By releasing them."

He stared at her, clearly confused. If he were more in command of himself, she knew he would have laughed, his grating, derisive laugh that was both humiliating and irritating. She counted it a victory that he could only stare. So she pressed her point as quickly as she dared, letting her belly lead her closer as she spoke. As long as the egg was between them, he would be careful.

"You want the Queen, my lord. And the only way to have her is to have me. So, Emperor, exactly what will you pay to possess me? What am I worth to you?"

"You will give yourself to me if I release all these villains? Back onto the street where they will ravage and pillage—"

"
You
have ravaged and pillaged Ragona for the last hundred cycles, my lord, not these few. Let us abandon these games. And as for my price—I am afraid I am much more expensive than a few prisoners."

He inclined his head, acknowledging her words. But she also got the feeling he was playing her, or attempting. "Very well, my dear. I shall give you all the treasure you could wish."

She smiled—a natural, easy smile, for she had never wanted wealth or jewels. "I have no wish for trinkets, my lord. I want power."

"Ah. That is a great deal harder to give—and even more difficult to hold."

She glanced to her left and then back to her right, at Sabina and Pentold, knowing she could likely recruit both to her side, assuming she could gain their release. "Give me power. Leave the people to me." He didn't answer, and so she knew it was up to her to continue. "I am no fool, Dag Racho. Your army does not defend Ragona. It one by one conquers our neighbors. Very well, gobble up all the territory you wish. Rule your army however you want. But give control of Ragona to me."

"Ridiculous!" he snapped, his pride now taking control. "I am the Emperor—"

"Of an angry, wretched people." She gestured about the damp prison. "See the fruits of your labors, Rashad. Is this why you killed your family, lost all your friends and betrayed your sister?" She had been guessing about that, extrapolating from flashes of dream memory and what little the egg conveyed to her. At his flinch, she knew she had scored a true hit.

"You are not capable of ruling Ragona," he growled. "I am the Emperor. I release nothing to you."

He would not move on that point; she could tell that too much of his pride was involved. She would have to moderate her demand. "Very well. Leave me in charge of Ragona's justice. Allow me free rein over who is imprisoned and why. I shall hear the cases, I shall decide the punishments—"

"And make the laws?" he finished for her.

She nodded, and everyone waited while he appeared to consider.

"You would be my wife?" he asked, and she heard true yearning in his voice. "In all ways? You will love me, cherish me? Obey me?"

She bit her lip. Could she do that? Would she do it? "I cannot command the yearnings of my heart," she said. "But I will not betray you, and that, I believe, is more important."

It was, for he began to nod. But then Pentold stepped forward, gripping the bars of his cell with cut and bleeding fingers. "You cannot trust his word, Natiya. Do not—"

"Silence, droog!" Dag Racho slammed his fist against the bars, missing Pentold only because he pulled back in time. But the poet remained dangerously close, still within reach of the Emperor through the bars. And more specifically, well within reach of the sword Dag Racho always carried.

Natiya stepped forward, gently interposing her bulk between Pentold and the Emperor, speaking in a calm, almost congenial tone. "But I
can
trust him, Pentold," she said. This clearly startled the Emperor, because he leaned forward to stare at her more closely. She added, "And he knows why, don't you, Rashad?"

It was a random ploy. She'd hoped to get him to reveal one of his vulnerabilities, but it didn't work. He was much too smart for that.

"I am at a loss, my dear. I have only my word."

She sighed. "I can trust you because I am your Queen," she said. She leaned forward, touching his cheek with her right hand while the other slowly reached into his pocket and sought the keys he carried there. She let power flow between them, surging through her left hand while her other hand finally found cold metal. She pressed the keys against her palm and began lifting them away, holding Dag Racho's eyes as she worked, wondering if—or when—he would stop her. "He knows his people hate him. He feels them slipping away, and he does not understand why." She allowed her right hand to curve around his clenched jaw, caressed his cheek, his lips. "All Rashad ever wanted was love. He has brought Ragona a hundred years of prosperity, and still the people hate him."

He grabbed her left hand—the one holding the keys—and using his superior strength, pressed it against his thickened groin. Clearly, negotiations had an aphrodisiac effect on the Emperor. "And you," he rasped. "Will you love me? Do you love me?" She heard mockery in his questions, as if he already knew she did not—could not—and yet, there was longing there as well.

"I cannot order my heart. I have already told you that." She looked down at his sex, wondering if she could indeed give herself to him that way. She looked to her right, where Pentold once again gripped the bars as if he would break them. He watched her with his own longing, his own hunger, and her words came out without thought or volition. "You love me, Rashad, for the Queen I carry. You will give me power and a chance to shape the world in a manner of my choosing. This poet loves me, too, for the friendship we once shared. He is a good man who would give me everything." She felt a tear slip down her cheek, though she could not spare it a thought. "And yet for all that, my heart chooses a man who used me for his own ends. He only spoke lies, and even his caresses were manipulations."

"The dragon-hunter." She felt a change in the Emperor, a tension and a confusion as he struggled with her words. "But you ordered him killed."

She looked back at Rashad. "Like you, I am not ruled by love."

"Only by hate."

"And you by your fears," she snapped.

She and Rashad came to an accord at that moment: They understood one another at a level that went far beyond any exchange of material possessions. They knew the deepest terrors that haunted each other, and respected the power of those drives. Still, she counted herself the winner in this exchange, for whereas his fears were very real—his fear of loneliness and abandonment—her hatred was dead. It had disappeared the moment she ordered Kiril's death. And so Rashad had no control over her, for she had nothing left to hate beyond a lost dream.

"Very well," Rashad said, as he released her hand but kept the keys. "Make the laws, control the prisoners, play the beneficent queen. I wish to keep one prisoner, though. Just for me."

"No!" Three voices rang out: Sabina's, Pentold's, Natiya's own. She did not know who this prisoner was, but if Dag Racho wanted him, he had to be valuable. "No. All the prisoners or no deal."

He nodded, as if expecting as much. "Very well. All the prisoners, Natiya, are at your disposal. But I think you get more than you bargain for. I have been ruling Ragona for a hundred cycles, and I believe you are unprepared. Like me, you will try to be kind, you will act with mercy and justice—and they will hate you anyway. The criminals will clamor loudly that you are evil and unnatural. The victims will claim you are weak and ineffective. And all about you will be leeches, sycophants and idiots. Truly, it is the idiots who are the worst, and there are a great, great many of those."

"Do not fear—," she began, but he cut her off.

"I do
not
fear, Natiya, because you are headed for a disaster bought by your own ignorance and naiveté. And in the end, you will have no escape, nowhere to turn except to me and my army." He gestured about him, to the wretched souls all pressed against their cells, holding on to every word as tightly as they held the bars. "Here are the brightest of Ragona, the smartest and the most treacherous. Do not think they will thank you for their escape. They know you are mine, my queen, and they will rush home and begin plotting the moment they breathe clean air." He stepped forward, both hands cupping first her face, then trailing down her arms until he caressed the egg. "This will keep you safe for a time—a Queen dragon is an asset beyond the greatest army in the world. But in the end, you will come to me willingly because we are destined—"