Dragonborn (The Jade Lee Romantic Fantasies, Book 1) (34 page)

He sighed, wishing once again that things were different. That he had chosen a different path from the very beginning.

"Kiril?"

"First we bathe, eat and find some decent clothes."

"And then?" Her voice was tight and eager.

"Then we have one chance, and it will be upon us very soon."

Sabina frowned, her prodigious brain working. "The hatching?"

"It is the time when she will be most vulnerable."

"But Dag Racho—"

"Will be with her, yes. In the mountain."

Sabina frowned. "The mountain. But where... ?"

"Yes, that mountain prison. Sitting inside it for so long was a boon. I learned things. I knew it was huge, but I thought it housed his army."

"It does. His very large, very considerable army."

Kiril almost laughed. He, too, had been fooled. "Yes, the army is large. But it is in the front. What do you think is behind those cells we were in? Behind my cage?"

Sabina shook her head. "Nothing. Rock."

"Then, what were those sounds I heard? The Emperor talking—to himself or someone else. I don't know, but I heard him. And from the way his voice echoed, the chamber was very large."

Sabina caught on. "A hatching cave? But why?"

Kiril shrugged. "Dragons are farsighted creatures with long memories. He has had a hundred cycles to think of how he would extend his life and his rule."

"By finding and marrying a Queen. We know this—"

"And we also know that the hatching is the most vulnerable time. He will take Natiya inside the mountain so that she can hatch in safety."

Sabina nodded. "Very well. But... how does this help us?"

"Neither you nor I saw Jaseen's hatching, but I heard. Mother and Father talked about it in whispers when they thought I was sleeping." Kiril took a deep breath, remembering those appalled and frightened words, the way his parents huddled together as if comforting themselves. But mostly he remembered that his father—his strong, unemotional, battle-tested father—had grown pale and gray when he spoke. "It is a violent, all-consuming time. There is a light and a power, I believe." Similar, no doubt, to the light and the power that had called Dag Racho to the clutching cave a little more than a week ago. "The Emperor will be involved in that. And inside the mountain, there will be no place for his Copper to come defend him."

"And once he is killed, his heart ripped from his chest, then the Copper will be weakened—"

"He'll be insane," Kiril reminded her. "I would prefer to get the egg and poison the Copper as we originally planned."

Sabina nodded. "Very well, but how do you suppose we get in there? Through an entire army of soldiers ready to die defending Dag Racho?"

Kiril shrugged. "If I had my sword, I could find it. With it, I might be able to attune myself to the interior cave. Maybe find the entrance."

"That's a lot of ifs, even if you did have your sword."

He nodded. "I don't really need my sword, just something soaked in dragon blood. Something especially attuned to the hatching time."

She frowned, and he wondered if what he had long ago guessed was true. Now was the time he'd find out. Slowly she lifted her head, gazing into his eyes and worrying her lower lip. Finally she spoke, her voice a low throb that easily cut through the carriage's gloomy interior. "How long have you known that I have it?"

"I never knew for sure. Jaseen's armband just... seemed like something you would keep."

She didn't respond quickly, but when she did, he knew she was speaking the truth. "I loved him, you know. Even after, I still loved him."

"But why the armband? And how did you get it?"

She let her head drop back against the squabs, her gaze unfocused, her words soft and steeped in memory. "I won it, of course. From the Emperor, in a game of cheesta."

"What did you wager against it?"

He saw the vague outline of her smile. "Everything I had and more."

"But why?"

She shrugged. "Because I wanted to beat him in something. Because I had to prove myself capable—on so many levels."

"I never knew you were a cheesta master," Kiril remarked, awed. "When did you learn?"

She laughed. "I didn't. I cheated."

He felt his jaw go slack in astonishment, and that, of course, made Sabina laugh all the harder.

"It is a long, long story, and in the end all I wanted was the armband. You were gone at the time, searching for the Bronze, I think."

He nodded. When he'd returned, he heard rumors.

"I have it in Dabu'ut," she continued. "Do you think there is time to get it?"

He nodded. That was why he had chosen this direction in the first place. And they both had friends there, friends who were far enough removed from court to probably still be trusted. Yet he needed to know: "Why, Sabina? Why that? When it symbolizes everything you hate about the dragons, about what happened to you and to Jaseen."

She nodded, as if he had answered his own question. "That is exactly why. Because it keeps my hate alive." She sat up straighter, speaking with an extra measure of intensity. "If I could go back in time, Kiril, I would. I would kill Jaseen. I would prevent all of this from happening even though it meant I must put a dagger through Jaseen's beating heart. I would do it, Kiril."

"I know," he said, though in truth he shuddered at the vehemence in her tone, the bitterness that was dark and ugly within his friend.

"What about you?" she pressed.

"What do you mean?" he asked, very much afraid he knew exactly what she meant.

"Will you do it, Kiril? Will you cut the egg out of the body of the woman who claims to love you? The woman—"

"I love?"

"Do you?" she challenged.

"No," he lied. He'd had a great deal of time to think in prison. Away from the clutching caves, his hunger for Natiya should have faded. It hadn't. And in time, he'd realized the horrible truth: he admired her, believed in her, and yes, he loved her.

"Then, you can do it? You can kill her?"

He sighed, knowing that whatever his feelings, they didn't matter. "Natiya is dead either way. At least if I kill her, we can still make use of the egg. This way, her death will have meaning."

Sabina reached forward, stroking his cheek until he raised his gaze to hers. "Do not fail, Kiril. You are Ragona's only hope."

She was right, and yet never had his duty felt more repugnant, more evil. "I won't fail," he vowed. "She will die by my hand." He sighed. "I owe her that much. Because what Dag Racho has in mind for her is much, much worse."

Chapter 15

Natiya was escorted back to her bedroom. She didn't have much choice in the matter. The Emperor had apparently indicated to her "protectors" that she would be tired after her activities with the prisoners, and so would need to rest directly after the inmates were released. She was just lucky that her bedroom was exactly the destination she desired.

She had to find Pentold's books. Unfortunately, she didn't dare look at them with the soldiers in her room. Therefore, she had to feign sleep, knowing that when lunchtime came, the guards would step out of her room to eat. She had long since established that their messy habits upset her delicate constitution.

She suspected that they spied on her through peepholes in the wall, so she remained on her guard, but at least lunch afforded a small measure of privacy. So, pretending as if she couldn't sleep, she irritably grabbed one of the books sent up by the librarian. This also had been a long-established habit of hers. She was even able, with absolute credibility, to peruse one book for a while, toss it aside, then pick up another.

It was time-consuming, but eventually she discovered what Pentold must have left for her. Money. Lots of it. Enough to buy a mount to escape on, or to bribe a guard or three. If only there was a mount for her to buy and a guard open to bribery.

She sighed, letting her head drop onto her arm. The hatching contractions were beginning. She could feel them. Tiny ones so far, like the lapping of little waves across her belly; but they were real. Whatever she was going to do had to be done now.

She absently toyed with the money, sorting through the coins, trying to think of a place to hide them. She ended up slipping them under her tunic until she could think of a better idea. And then she was once again lying on her bed, flipping through pages of books while desperately trying to think of another idea. She almost didn't pick up the last book. She almost chose to sleep, to give in to Dag Racho's will, to just relax and let whatever would happen happen.

But she didn't, and so when she opened a huge volume of epic poetry, she was rewarded by the sight of another smaller, slimmer volume compressed between the heavy pages.

She knew immediately what it was; she had a vivid memory of seeing her mother sitting on a rock or leaning against a cave wall while scribbling in this very tome. As a child, Natiya had not been allowed to touch this most important book, but she had been fascinated by it. Why was it so important to her mother? What secrets did it contain?

Nothing, sweeting. Just my thoughts, that's all.

Her mother's voice echoed through the distant recesses of Natiya's mind, a forgotten whisper nearly crowded out by the egg and all the things that had happened since she first began incubating it. But now she touched the soft leather binding. Lifting the book up, she imagined she smelled her mother's scent and crisp, salty sea air. And then, with her breath suspended in awe, Natiya opened the book.

The first thing she saw was a hastily scribbled note from Pentold.

Your mother gave this to me two days before she died. She said to keep it hidden even from my father, who probably would have sold it to the highest bidder. She wanted this to go to any of her family who survived. I think she guessed it would go badly, and even then I was sorry for her. She said I was to wait many years—for safety—and that when I was an adult, I could give it to a dragon scholar, if any still existed.

Perhaps I should have given this to you years ago, Natiya, but when you left my father's care, you left all of us behind—me included. I had hoped to give it to you on our wedding night, but I now see that that will never be. So take this and remember that I shall be here to help you whenever you need.

Signed with all my heart, Pentold

PS. Begin reading at page 124.

Natiya read his letter, but she did not cry. She had shed many tears for Pentold over the cycles away from him, tears for an absent brother. She had missed him, but he would never have approved of the egg she carried, would never have liked the choices she made. And now, despite his signature, he had left her—though she reminded herself that she was the one who had sent him away. She could not give the Emperor more weapons to use against her.

So she was alone now, except for the whispers of her mother's words as she leafed slowly through the book pages. She read a little, knowing she needed to skip to page 124, but unable to resist the lure of scanning a few other pages, of learning how her mother had felt about her family. She had loved them as a wife and a mother should, but also, in her heart she had found them to be both a delight and an annoyance, especially since her first and primary love was dragons. Which were, in fact, the subject addressed on page 124.

The Dragon Song is louder now. Martun thinks I am crazy or trying to avoid watching the children. I don't care, so long as he lets me sit in the Queen's clutching cave. I don't know why this cave is different from the others. It could be because the Queen's clutch—with her Golden egg—is here beside me now as I write. Or it's the other way around: The clutch was laid here because of the cave's special properties. Whatever the truth, I can hear the dragons. Not in words. Just a hint of a melody and feelings, sometimes images, all jumbled together, all mismatched in my head. I have spent hours trying to refine this into words but have had little success. That is why Martun thinks I am imagining it. Besides, he firmly believes Dag Racho's Copper is the last living dragon, so how could I be communicating with a dead species?