Iron Hearted Violet (28 page)

“Once upon a time,” she said, “a boy and girl discovered a library deep in a castle. And the library hid a wicked secret. And they vowed to never return. But the girl lied.”

Demetrius knelt next to her. “Once upon a time, a boy helped a misguided King capture the last remaining dragon in the world, and everyone’s heart shattered to pieces.”

“Once upon a time,” Violet said, “a whole world tried to pretend an evil god didn’t exist. They banned its stories. They banned its name. But it was slippery and tricky. And a princess let it out.”

“Once upon a time,” Demetrius said, “a wicked creature started a war. It did this for
fun
. For sport. And to provide the perfect smoke screen to hide its plans.”

“Once,” Violet said, “a girl lost her mother, and she blamed her friend. And she made a wish that she thought would heal the world. But she was wrong.”

“It
is
you,” he said, reaching his arms around Violet and holding on tight, pressing his cheek against her cheek. “Oh, Violet, I was so scared I’d never see you again.” He stood, quickly wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands, and stepped back. Violet sat up, her wide black eyes quite red
now, and tear tracks running down her amber skin. Demetrius clucked his tongue. She was terribly beautiful.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Violet,” he said in a grave voice, “but you looked better before.”

Violet erupted with more tears, more laughing, and Demetrius closed his eyes again, listening to her voice. “That’s you, all right. Look, I need to tell you what we just learned.”

And Demetrius told her about the escalating war, and about the well-aimed attack with a shovel by Moth, Nod, and Auntie, and about the terrible pit leading to the heart of the castle, and about what the god had said.

“The castle’s the heart? Every stone? Then why did the Nybbas want
me
to get it? What could
I
have done?”

“I don’t think you want to know, Princess,” I said. Violet shuddered. She couldn’t have known, of course, what had happened to the Mountain King—none of us could—and yet the closeness of her brush with the wickedness of the Nybbas shook her to the core all the same.

“In any case,” I continued, “we shall have to think of a different solution. The King tried for months to break through to the dragon. Look at his notes! He wanted the dragon to find its heart as well—albeit, for different
reasons. If the dragon wouldn’t respond to
him
, with his background and training—”

“What do you mean, Cassian?” Demetrius said. “I could feel the dragon just as clearly as any horse. More so. It’s—” Demetrius paused.

“Forthright,” Violet concurred. “And
nosy
.”

Auntie looked from the boy to the girl and back to the boy. “I thought it was impossible. No one’s ever been able to reach a dragon before. Not since their enslavement. They’re…” She searched for the word. “Prickly.”

“Well, that is still true. But it’s communicated with me. Didn’t have anything nice to say, but still. The question is, will it help me? Will it
believe
me?”

Demetrius shrugged. “It won’t have a choice. It has to. And we don’t have much time. The god had instructions for you, Cassian, and for me. We are to fight, but first we have to warn the council. There’s something coming—something awful. The war with the Mountain King is just a ruse, and we have to be ready for the
real
war.” He turned to his friend and took her hand. “Violet, go to the dragon. Help it get its heart. The dragon’s the key to killing that… thing. The thing that’s causing all this. But the dragon needs your help. Or it needs to help you. We’re not really
sure. We’ll try to buy you a little time, all the same. We’ll keep the Nybbas away—or whatever the Nybbas is using to break the castle into bits. Go now.”

He hesitated, took a sharp breath, and stepped toward Violet, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and hugging her tight. Violet held on for a moment, and then, without making eye contact, she wrenched her body away, spun on her heel, and ran out the door. The strange hallway was gone, and it was our own hallway, in our own castle with its familiar stones and familiar windows—all of which now thrummed and pulsed with that cursed, relentless heartbeat.

Violet cursed her princess body with each step. She missed her old feet, her old hair, her old hands. She missed her face. Mostly, she missed the way that people lit up with love or recognition or even annoyance when she walked by. Now the few people left in the castle stopped in their tracks and stared.
They just care about the beauty
, Violet thought scornfully.
They don’t care two figs about
me. She ignored the stares and went as fast as her tiny feet and delicate legs could carry her, which, I’m sorry to say, was not very fast.

When she reached the dragon’s keep, she didn’t even
bother announcing herself, nor did she climb to the top of the wall. “I’m setting you free,” she mumbled as she undid the heavy latch and began cranking the windlass, slowly lowering the massive door.

FREE? THERE IS NO SUCH WORD
, she felt the dragon think.

“Of course there is—” She paused. “I don’t know your name.”

IF I EVER HAD ONE, I’VE FORGOTTEN IT. “DRAGON” WILL DO. I’M THE ONLY ONE, AFTER ALL, SO NO ONE ELSE WILL COME WHEN YOU CALL.
It paused.
NOT THAT I WILL.

The windlass grew heavier and heavier, the closer it came to the ground. Violet’s reedy arms shook. Finally, it slipped from her grip and jerked forward. The door hit the ground with a terrific crash. The dragon didn’t move. It took another mouthful of leaves, chewed it, and swallowed.

“We need to go. There’s something we have to do.”

I DON’T NEED TO GO ANYWHERE. I CAN AWAIT MY SLAVERY HERE JUST AS EASILY AS ANYWHERE ELSE.
It belched up a mass of chewed-up leaves and scales that looked, Violet thought, a bit like a compost heap. Except that it was on fire.

I’M SURPRISED IT’S TAKEN YOU SO LONG TO ASK ME, CHILD. I’VE BEEN WAITING.

“I’ve been a bit busy, but I’m here all the same.”

THE VICTORY OF THE TYRANT IS NEARLY AT HAND. DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT I’LL BE ABLE TO HELP YOU?

“I know you can!” Violet watched as the dragon shyly peeked its head into the doorway. It blinked its one, glittering eye.

IT IS A RARE THING, GIRL, THAT ONE OF YOU CAN COME THIS CLOSE TO ONE OF ME AND LIVE TO TELL THE TALE.

“I assume that is true,” Violet said, stepping closer. “But neither of us wants to see that
thing
in charge of this world or any world. Most of us would rather die. I think I know a way for
you
not to die, though I’m not so sure about everyone else….”

INTERESTING. AND WHY WOULD A HUMAN CHILD CARE SO MUCH ABOUT THE WELFARE OF A—WHAT WAS THE DELIGHTFUL TERM YOU USED? OH YES. AN “OVERGROWN LIZARD”?

Violet reddened. “You think you’re special because I insulted you? You’re not. I’ve been insulting a lot of people lately.” She took a deep breath. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. My father—” She choked on the word. “My father cares very much about your welfare and captured
you
because
he wanted to find a way to keep dragons from disappearing forever. He wanted to learn from you so that he could figure out how to help you.”

AND WHAT DID HE LEARN?
The dragon’s eye shone in the darkness.

“My father thinks that long ago, dragons removed their hearts during adolescence but put them back in during adulthood. He thinks that at some point, the dragons lost this knowledge, though he’s not sure how. He said in his notes that he thought if he put your heart back into your body, your heart would make you a whole dragon again. You would have your courage and your youth. Your body would be whole and sound again. That it would heal you.”

NONSENSE!

“He said that it was because the Nybbas—”

DO NOT SAY THE NAME OF THE TYRANT! TO SAY THE NAME EMPOWERS IT. EMBOLDENS IT!

“Then let’s kill it,” Violet whispered. “You and I together. We’ll find your heart, we’ll heal you, and we’ll break the mirrored edge of the world. That thing isn’t as strong as you. It can’t live without its heart. Or not for long, anyway.”

BUT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD IS DANGEROUS! IT’S
FILLED WITH ENEMIES!
The dragon cowered on the ground, covering its eye with its forearms.

“You only say that because you don’t have your heart. It will make you brave again. I
know
it.”

The dragon shook its head.
I CAN’T LET YOU SEE WHERE MY HEART IS BURIED. I CAN’T! YOU’LL STEAL IT! YOU’LL STEAL ME! DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE—WHEN YOUR WILL IS NO LONGER YOUR OWN?

Violet approached the dragon, holding up her hands, palms out, to show that she was not a threat. “Actually, beloved, I know exactly what that feels like.” The dragon didn’t move but warily watched as the girl approached. It blinked its one, shining eye. “It’s true that I could steal your heart. But I won’t.” She stood just in front of the wide jaws, felt the heat of its breath on her skin. “It’s also true that you could gobble me up in an instant. You could burn me to cinders or rip me to shreds or deliver any number of terrible and ghastly deaths. I can’t tell you what to do. I can only hope. I can only trust you. Just as you must trust me.” She reached forward and laid her hand on the dragon’s nose. It closed its enormous eye and began to make a sound—a deep, rumbly sound that came from the core of its body. It sounded like a cat’s purr, but deeper, broader, and louder. It
rattled Violet’s bones. But it was a
good
sound, a
safe
sound. A sound like family. “I didn’t know dragons made that sound,” she said, smiling slightly at the creature.

WE RARELY DO
, the dragon replied.
ONLY WHEN—

But Violet didn’t learn
when
a dragon makes its purr. At that very moment an arrow sliced by, landing next to Violet’s left foot.

“Over here, Marshall!” a man’s voice called through the darkness.

“It’s escaping! Fire, men! Fire! Don’t let it get away!”

Violet held up her hands. She stood between the archers and the dragon. “Stop!” she shouted. “It’s not going to hurt you!”

“Shoot the Andulan filth while you’re at it,” another man’s voice called out. “The Mountain King only asked for the death of the dragon, but he’d be pleased to hear there’s one less Andulan—”

If he said something more, Violet didn’t know. Instead, all she knew was the tip of an arrow on her skin—bright and hot, like an iron coming out of a raging forge. Though she knew later that it all happened in less than a second, it seemed to her to last a lifetime or more. The tip of the arrow. The bright apex of pain. Her skin swelled, then
erupted around the arrow’s tip, as though swallowing it whole. And then the arrow was part of her. Or she was part of the arrow. She fell back, harpooned, as the pain spread from her shoulder through her chest, down her spine. She felt another jolt of pain on her left leg.

Then: a dragon’s roar.

And a bright cloud of light above her head.

And in those last seconds before losing consciousness, Violet thought for sure she saw the earth leap away, and the path, the wall, the wood, even that great, shining dragon, all spun farther and farther into the air until, at last, the darkness swirled around them and she was gone.

I must confess, my dears, how the bravery of those two children diminished me so. Was I like that, I wondered, when I was young? So willing to act, so willing to launch a resistance to unspeakable power? Alas, I think that I was not. I, who should have risked heaven and earth to protect that dear girl and that dear boy, found myself simply pulled in their wake—my heels dragging along the ground.

It shames me to think of it.

After Violet left the room, I sat down on a chair by the fire, gripping the handles and hooking my ankles around
the legs, bracing my body against moving. “There are limits, Demetrius, to my bravery,” I began, but Auntie snorted.