The Dragons' Chosen (34 page)

I held my breath.

Tristan kept packing, speaking with no inflection in his voice. “We’ve been over this. It’s been decided at our meeting. We must return Harold. Genevieve wants to go back now. We will return her too. No more will we take a princess this way. This treaty, this process will be renegotiated.”

I tried to examine my feelings. I should be happy and relieved. Tristan was doing what I said I wanted. What I did want. But I was choked by sorrow.

I spoke not a word to any, but for me, I had selected whom I would have wed.

The only one who had not given me a gift. Not offered for me. Nor did I blame him. After I had run, how could he feel otherwise but distant? Of course, it no longer mattered. I was returning.

I held my peace, hoping he wouldn’t guess and see me as a fool.

Did he suspect? What would happen if I told the others? Would they be sympathetic? Insist that Tristan marry me?

Would I still be able to return Harold? No matter, I couldn’t risk it. The kingdom’s safety and Harold’s safety were too important to risk for my own longings.

Tristan looked over at me as if sensing my indecision. “We could wait a day if you choose. There is rain in the air. James and I are strong and careful fliers, but it might be wise to wait for this storm to pass.”

I studied Harold, slightly bedraggled, trailing after Piers and Tristan with star-struck awe in his eyes. Prying him loose from these exciting man-dragons would increase in difficulty with each passing day. And my father could be gathering his troops at this moment, my mother distraught.

“No, please. Tonight if it is at all possible. I don’t wish to risk your safety, nor Harold’s, but we need to get back quickly.”

He nodded, his eyes serious. “It shall be as you wish.” And he smiled at me, that smile that melted me each time. I smiled back and our eyes held. Should I tell him? I yearned to reach over and touch him.

Harold ran up and tugged on my sleeve. “Genevieve! Genevieve! Can we go now?

I pushed down my feelings.

“Yes, love, soon.”

He leapt up. “I’m going to fly again. Harold, the Dragon…” He looked around revising his words mid-speak. “Harold, the Dragon Rider, flies again!”

I patted his head, straightening his curls, and then continued speaking to the men. “Not one more day. My parents can’t bear this.”

James and Tristan exchanged glances.

Tristan looked to the west, nostrils flaring. “I can smell the rain not far off. It can be cold for a human. We will bundle you up as best we can.”

Harold stood with his feet apart, looking every inch the miniature monarch. “I’ll protect you, Genevieve. The storm won’t come while I’m here. Sir Harold, the Storm Turner. That’s what they’ll call me.”

Tristan reached out and ruffled Harold’s hair. “Perhaps with you astride, we can outfly the storm, small king.”

Harold tilted his head up, glowing with pride.

Tristan continued, “Let us be gone now, and perhaps we can miss the worst of this storm.”

James motioned Harold to him before changing into a brilliant purple and umber dragon. Piers and Hugh fashioned a makeshift harness on James’s back with sturdy straps for keeping Harold secure.

Tristan crouched before Harold, inspecting his boot heels. At my look, he explained with a grin, “Just checking for spurs.”

He lifted him up onto James’s wing and Harold scrambled up onto James’s back. Tristan tied him in securely, checking the straps and knots twice.

I prepared myself. Steeled my body not to shake. Chris stood near, holding hands with Hugh, both lost in the other’s eyes.

“Chris, I can’t say goodbye. I can’t bear to leave you.”

She came over to me and put her arm around my waist. “This isn’t about goodbye. I’ll find you, you know I will. This isn’t over. We have a bond that has crossed worlds. Look for me. We have unfinished business.”

Behind me I felt the air move as Tristan changed. I gave Chris a hug and took one last look at the Crystal Cave glittering in the slanting sunshine. Hugh and Chris wrapped a great felted cape about me before lashing me tightly into Tristan’s harness.

Muscles flexed beneath my legs. I was afraid to breathe, to move. My fingers clenched the leather straps, hoping they would keep me in my seat.

Tristan’s wings extended and with a huge leap we were in the air. I squeezed my eyes tight, unable to watch the ground disappear.

Chapter 49

The winds pounded against me, straining at the leather that held me safely strapped on the back of the man-dragon, Tristan. That first hour had been exhilarating, my fear of heights unfounded, but now, as the night dragged itself across the moonless sky, I concentrated on enduring. Never had I been so cold. Icy rain trickled down my back, sneaking past the thick folds of my woolen cape. Flying beside us and slightly above, was James, carrying Harold. From here I could see my brother’s face, usually so cheerful and determined, his lips now blue with cold and exhaustion. He saw me, and his face crumpled into a look of misery.

He couldn’t survive this weather much longer. I tried to control the tremors of cold that racked my body. I wasn’t sure I could take much more either.

A muscle rippled beneath me, as Tristan called to James with that eerie trumpeting that had caused me such fear so long ago. I could barely feel it for my own shaking. They started downward, moving through more moisture-saturated clouds, lower and lower until we settled down with a neck-jarring thump on the edge of a small copse of wood. My fingers clumsy with cold, I released the leather straps that held me tight to Tristan, sliding down his wet slick scales to land in mud that covered my shoes and the hem of my gown.

More mud spattered across me as I struggled through the rain-drenched landscape to Harold, untangling his harness and removing the stiff water-soaked leather straps before pulling him down from James’s broad umber back. I hugged him to me. His teeth chattered. The rain continued pelting us as I looked frantically around for shelter. Anywhere we could get out of this weather.

Tristan crouched by my side, his silver and emerald wing outstretched, a haven from the storm. I ducked beneath, guiding Harold before me. Within the cover of this living leather shield, the wind ceased. I stood adjusting my eyes to the shadows. A clicking sound quickly resolved itself. Harold’s teeth were still chattering with cold. I pulled him beneath my cloak, kissing his cheek and tasting his salty tearstained face, smelling the soft wet sheep scent from his woolen felted coat.

James, also in his dragon form, dragged boughs of dry pine and fir upon which Harold and I scrambled, ignoring the resinous sticky sap that clung to our skin and clothes.

Tristan’s wing lifted slightly and his head crooked beneath, breathing hot air back to us, warming our sheltered enclave to the heat of a summer’s day.

Harold relaxed in my arms. He stirred, putting his hand up to my cheek. “I don’t want to be Harold the Dragon Slayer anymore. I want to be named Sir Harold, the Dragon Friend.”

Soon after, he fell into a deep sleep nestled tightly against me. I remained awake. Early morn we would fly again, return to my home, my life.

My emotions felt raw, scrubbed to the skin and scoured layer upon layer, until all that was left of me felt like a thin parchment written in deeply cut lines, brittle and fragile. No longer the soft, clever princess, sure of herself and her world. I didn’t believe I could seamlessly walk back into my life, taking up my cards in the game of royals as if I had merely stepped away.

Slowly, exhaustion overcame me. I drifted to sleep holding my brother in my arms and my own thoughts at bay.

I woke gradually, struggling out of my dreams, unsure where I was. A lark trilled the coming dawn. Harold lay beside me, curled up tight against my side in peaceful sleep.

The smell of pine infused the snug space and something else, the rich smell of newly cut hay and sage; the warmth and coziness of a well-hearthed room. I reached out. My fingers brushed against a wall and felt the softness of watered silk. The wall shuddered at my touch and I remembered where I lay, sheltered beneath a dragon’s wing. Tristan’s wing.

Chapter 50

Almost home. Joy and anxiety roiled inside me, drying my mouth. It scarcely helped that Tristan, as a man, was walking beside us to the edge of a meadow. Beyond a small hummock to the west, I could see the tops of the castle’s turret banners flying in the stiff breeze. James, in dragon form, watched from within a stand of tall hemlocks. Harold bounced ahead like a spring lamb, still pleased with himself for rescuing me.

Tristan motioned to the path by our side. “Here we must leave you, only a half mile to your castle. We may already have been seen in the sky, but there’s no reason to inflame your people’s fears further.”

I nodded. Tristan must have seen the regret on my face and mistaken it for fear, for he stared across the fields as if reconsidering. “Maybe I should walk you the rest of the way, to be safe. The cat’s out of the bag, as it were, or will be once you and Harold are returned. Our secrecy is a thing of the past.”

“No, it’s too dangerous for you. It’s naught but a short walk.”

I looked down at my feet, suddenly shy. “Thank you, and say thank you again to James if you would.”

I half turned, unsure what else to say.

He reached out as if to take my hand, then pulled back. “Before you go, wait with me for a space.”

Tristan appeared stiff and uncomfortable, as was I. He finally shrugged, slowly reaching for my hand. “Perhaps I’m overstepping, but I can’t leave without telling you. I did not fail to remember, nor did I plan to forgo the last test. And though the treaty is broken, you deserve to know what my gift was. It wasn’t gold or riches, but it was what my mother said should have been given to the princesses.”

He took a breath and blew it out. “I would give this gift to you with my respect and love. I had planned on giving you your sovereignty, the freedom to choose.”

He shook his head with a wry smile, lifting my hand close to his lips. “No, that’s wrong. I would merely be acknowledging that which is already yours, which you have so aptly proved to us.”

“That was to be your gift?”

He nodded slightly before reflecting for some moments, as if he was deciding something. Then with a dismissive shrug, he spoke, “No, not anymore. It was my way of undoing a wrong. A wrong in which I was a participant.

“You are not a pawn. Not a chess piece to be fought over.”

I studied his eyes, seeking for the truth there.

He continued. “You have a right to happiness. So I leave you here with this pledge. We won’t return to take you by force, and no harm will come to your kingdom. Nor will I press my troth.” He pressed a gentle kiss into the palm of my hand. “My gift to you is my heart.” He turned and I heard him whisper, “If I don’t leave you now, I might not be able to keep my vow.”

Startled, I watched as he crossed the field, unable to pull my eyes away from him. The air spun about him as he started the change into a dragon. For a short time, both Tristan and the shadow of his dragon self overlaid one upon the other. Impulsively, I called his name and he turned, smiling at me with his blue eyes. I blew a kiss, trying to let him know I cared. That I chose him. That it was him I loved.