There Be Dragons (7 page)

He was loathe to leave the battlefield, afraid there was a greater power behind the enemy attacks than had been shown thus far. He remained disturbed by the way the body of the warrior who had so viciously fought had simply vanished, not seen by either him or his men.

Touched by moonlight, the landscape was beautiful. Sloping hills to the sea appeared to be blanketed in dark mauve. Here and there, cliffs caught a reflection of moonlight, and glowed in a softened beauty. He loved his homeland. Loved it intensely. He had been willing to fight and die for it now for many years, and had been ever vigilant.

And it made sense …

Though there was now the lovely young Adriana to fill his father’s days with happiness, Michelo was the great duke’s only son. It was natural his father wanted a continuation of his line.

And still …

If he recalled the last time he’d seen Daphne, she had been a lovely girl. They’d both been courteous and polite. And he’d felt …

Nothing.

And she, in return, had appeared to make the proper moves, to be courteous and attentive when he spoke. And yet, she had looked at him with as much enthusiasm as …

A piece of wilted lettuce.

“Whoa!” he murmured suddenly, startled into awareness as Alexander stumbled on the path. Just then, clouds slipped over the moon, and darkness fell like an encompassing blanket over the land. At the same time, almost exactly, so it seemed, a fog swept in from the sea.

Alexander snorted and whinnied.

Michelo patted his horse’s neck. “It’s all right, old boy. We’ll go just ahead, there are caves down the path to the sea. We’ll stop there, and make it home by tomorrow.”

Alexander tossed his head, as if understanding perfectly. Then suddenly, in the darkness, he reared up, snorting with panic.

Michelo was nearly unhorsed, but held his ground. Out of the swirling darkness, he saw cloaked men had used the cover of darkness to move stealthily upon them. He drew his sword from the sheath in his saddle, then cried out to Alexander. The horse reared up again, then plunged forward. As the first of the men came forward, a flicker in the darkness showed the length of his sword. Michelo swung against his enemy, catching the figure with the impetus of Alexander’s forward motion.

One hung on his left, and one on his right. One had a knife, and planned to use it against the horse to slow him down. He struck that figure with his sword hilt; in silence it fell away. The other clung to his saddle and leg, tearing at him with superhuman strength. Michelo brought the blade of his sword down twice … three times …

At last the figure fell away.

They raced onward, Michelo trying to slow his horse’s gait, for they raced into a stygian darkness. He and Alexander were rising again, climbing to the cliffs.

“Whoa, boy, it’s over! We’re safe!” he cried, and a smile slipped onto his lips as he congratulated himself with great relief upon escaping the danger. “Safe!”

But even as he spoke, Alexander walked beneath an unseen tree.

A large, low branch caught Michelo squarely in the forehead.

With a slight groan, he fell from the horse, and the darkness of the night was complete.

Even with the great Duke Fiorelli, his lovely wife, Lucia, and their pretty young Adriana in attendance, Geovana took her seat at the side of Pietro d’Artois, Count of Lendo, for the evening’s festivities.

“One would think she was countess here,” Armand murmured to Marina, passing her on his way to the rear of the room, a far table, where falconers were allowed to sit. Marina grimaced, for it was true. The chair Geovana took had been her mother’s seat, a place of honor. But then again, she was a countess in her own right, and it was her son’s marriage that would be announced that night to the stepdaughter of the house, just as the marriage of Michelo, son of the great Fiorelli, would be announced, to Count d’Artois’s beloved child of his blood, Daphne.

Marina didn’t particularly care where anyone sat. All she wanted was for the night to be over.

At Geovana’s departure from her bedroom, she had bathed and dressed correctly, or, at least, as correctly as she could, for the clothing that came her way tended to be the hand-me-downs from Daphne. She wondered that night if she lied to herself; if she didn’t resent the fact that Daphne had come into her home, and been the one to receive the lessons, the love, the clothing, the doting of the older generation. Watching Daphne, she felt no real anger. Daphne was a beautiful young woman with a sweet disposition. She seemed a bit distracted, despite the fact she was tutored and adored—while Marina was given the chores. She didn’t seem to be a terrible person, to ever cause ill to others. Since Marina did not want the dictatorial attention of her stepfather, she was glad to take a step behind Daphne, she realized.

Unfortunately, tonight, they were about to share a fate, for Duke Fiorelli, Lucia, and Adriana were seated at the head table next to Pietro d’Artois and Geovana, who were laughing and happy and quite pleased. Serafina, Daphne’s main tutor in the arts of dance and music, was at the table as well, sweet, and lovely, and though usually entirely serene, she looked slightly ill.

Marina, late, hurrying to her seat, saw that Daphne looked wan and pale, and not at all happy. She was seated next to the messenger standing in for Michelo Fiorelli, who had apparently not made it back yet from his battles at the borders.

As Marina approached the table, the men stood. Carlo took her hand, looking for all the world like the courteous, handsome young lord, and she was greeted with affection by all. She offered Carlo an apology for her tardiness, and he gave her a smile and an assurance. “Soon, dear Marina, I assure you, you will learn manners, and never have to apologize again.”

She didn’t have a chance to reply. The great Duke Fiorelli rose, and the company fell silent. He announced first the engagement of Daphne to his son, Michelo, and then the engagement of Carlo Baristo and Marina, the daughter of the late, lamented Nico and Elisia. There was cheering around the hall, and then people were up, standing, kissing one another, and it seemed the whole hall rejoiced.

Marina saw Daphne’s face, and she was startled to see her stepsister looked stricken. After a word with her father-in-law-to-be, she suddenly fled the hall. Puzzled, Marina watched her go. And when Carlo told her they would dance, Daphne’s exit gave her courage. “Forgive me! There seems to be an ague about! Daphne has retired … I fear the same symptoms!”

Carlo hated illness. He doubted her, she knew.

He also hated to be around anyone ill.

She took advantage of his hesitance and fled.

That night, even as she went to bed, she heard the beat of horse’s hooves below, and looked out the window. She felt a great and terrible sorrow, for there was her cousin, Armand, still tilting with scarecrows, more feverishly now, as any chance of his winning Daphne was waning.

The weddings had been set for a fortnight’s time.

Christmas Day.

She woke just as the sun crept over the gorgeous heights and cliffs and bluffs of their region. And before anyone could stop her, she dressed, raced to the stables, saddled Arabella, and took off for the hills, praying
all the while that the falcon was faring well.

Indeed, she seemed much better. She appeared to have walked to the water, and was graciously dipping her beak for a long cool drink. All in all, she was making a remarkable recovery.

“You look wonderful,” Marina said softly, checking the bandaged site on the falcon’s wing. There was no hint of renewed bleeding. “It’s quite amazing. You’ll be good as new quite soon.”

“I do hope!” the falcon said, and stared at her with head angled in a birdlike way. “So, how was your evening, Marina?”

“Remarkable, as well,” Marina said. Her lips twitched into a smile. “Well, disastrous, of course, as our marriages were announced. But, Thomasina! Before that, it was priceless! Carlo fell into a water trough. Of course, he says that I pushed him, but it was all his fault, I swear it. And, oh, when he went in, I laughed so hard. And his men laughed … until he gave us all the evil eye! Ah, but still … those moments were worth his wrath! Isn’t that truly astounding, after our conversation yesterday?”

The falcon stared at her for a moment. She could have sworn that the animal was frowning. “Astounding? Let me see, dear, what part about my having the power to grant three wishes did you just not get? And, of course, I’m quite glad you enjoyed the spectacle of the man in the water, but since his dousing doesn’t really change life for you any … it’s my opinion that you think long and hard about your second wish!”

Marina returned Thomasina’s stare. It was so difficult to believe in magic, in wishes. And yet, it had been just as the falcon had said.

Of course, it was difficult to believe in a falcon, and a talking falcon at that, especially one with a name like Thomasina!

But, then, of course, the falcon claimed to be a fairy.

“Could this be real?” she whispered.

“In life, child, we must always help ourselves. But can this be real? A talking falcon? Magic? Maybe magic is also what we make of it. If you stop and let it be, Christmas can be a time of magic. You see, young lady, magic can be in the soul, and come to different people in different ways. Here, my dear, think of the magic in your heart at Christmas.” She ruffled and fixed her feathers. “Dear, dear. So much for my
speeches—you must not waste another wish. Think long and hard, and tell me your heart’s desire.”

Marina arched a brow. “I can’t make my heart’s desire a wish, since what I want more than anything else in the world is
not
to marry Carlo, Count Baristo! In that, I might well lose Lendo, and it was where my parents lived and ruled and I was born, and where I really am needed.”

“At least you’re taking this seriously, and thinking carefully,” the falcon said, seeming a bit relieved.

“So …” Marina mused, rising and pacing several steps around the falcon, still thinking that the creature might disappear at any moment, and she would discover the entire adventure was actually in her desperate imagination. “My heart’s desire—” She stopped suddenly, turning to face the falcon. “One night,” she said softly.

“One night?”

Marina nodded, smiling. “Just one night … with the man of my dreams. Someone who is as enchanted with
me
as Armand is with his Daphne. Someone who looks at me that way, who sees only my eyes, hears my voice … someone gallant, brave, strong, truly noble—not in title, but in deed, in thought … in care.”

“That’s all?” the falcon queried.

“Did I ask too much?”

“No, no, just checking. It’s always good to state a wish clearly and precisely. This is a bit more complicated than a dunking in a watering trough. Go on, please.”

“Well, of course, it would be great if he were also incredibly handsome, witty, and charming,” Marina said with a grin and a shrug.

“It’s your wish,” the falcon told her.

“That’s it, then,” Marina said. “That’s it—because I have decided my future is the one I must live, and as I told Armand—my cousin—I am determined if Carlo tries to make me miserable, I simply will not let him.” She looked away. “I know how to battle him,” she murmured. “So … what night shall it be?” she asked teasingly. “We are going to have to hurry here, you know.”