Dragons Among Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Head servant Emeline Baker stood in Godfrey Manor’s kitchen yard, humming as she stripped bed linens from a clothesline. The scent of lavender hung heavy in the air, soothing her weary body after a laborious day, and the setting sun blazed like an ember upon the horizon. A shadow fell across the lawn then, darkening the grounds further as the familiar whoosh of giant wings greeted her ears.

With a start, she hurried to collect the last sheet before Zayne’s approach blew it free. The morning rain had delayed her chores, and a muddied sheet wouldn’t help. While the prince would likely wave off her worries about such things and insist she put the task off for another day, Emeline would be sure to sneak it back into the washtub. Though reckless and often self-absorbed, the prince was also compassionate and understanding. His father, on the other hand, did not possess the latter two characteristics. Present or not, Emeline’s inaction would inevitably reach the king’s ears, and she preferred to keep her head upon her shoulders.

Coarse wisps of graying hair tickled her cheeks as the golden beast landed a short distance off. She quickly finished with the sheet and dropped it into a basket at her feet.

“Showing off again, eh?”

Her teasing tone evaporated the moment she turned to see Zayne, still in dragon form, lying on his side. A longbow arrow protruded from his bloodied, skyward-facing rib cage, his breathing ragged. The prince’s long, serpentine neck and tail were both curled in toward his wings, which were folded low across his giant belly.

“Your Highness!” Emeline hurried forward, laundry quickly forgotten. “What happened? Was it an attack? Shall we summon the royal army?”

One closed eye slid open as his massive head shifted back and forth across the muddy ground. Relief coursed through her, if only temporarily. If the damned fool didn’t move forward with his wedding to Princess Rosalind, the fragile bubble of peace between Edana and Forath might soon crumble. Her eyes narrowed at the cottage-sized beast before her.

“You went across the wall again, did you now? Startled some poor farmer working his fields?”

The dragon’s second eye opened as his head slid across the slick ground once more.

“Stop, save your energy. You can explain your actions when you are upright once again. But first this wretched arrow needs removed from your side.” She moved toward his front shoulder, searching his crumpled form for an adequate foothold. “Honestly, sire, some days I feel I cannot leave you alone for a single—”

Zayne’s top wing drew back, revealing his front talons and the object they now slowly released. An object as beautiful as it was unexpected: a girl, slight in size, with pale skin and scant, unfamiliar clothing. She lay on his bottom wing, unmoving, her long golden hair blanketing both face and shoulders. As Emeline drew closer, she witnessed the girl’s chest rising and falling.

She was alive.

“All this?” Emeline seethed, stepping back to meet his golden gaze. “For a
woman
? Did you for one moment consider the consequences before you snatched up some silly woodland nymph?”

Zayne offered a weary snort in response and let his eyes slide shut once again.

A groan sounded at Emeline’s feet. The girl raised a trembling hand to brush a curtain of golden hair from her face. A pair of brilliant blue eyes blinked open once, twice, then focused on Emeline.

“W-where am I?”

Zayne’s body tensed at the sound.

“Not where you should be, I can assure you,” Emeline snapped and turned to face the dragon’s curious gaze. “Scared her near to death, you did. And how would you have explained
that
to your father?”

The girl sat up and raised a hand to the back of her head, then sucked in a sharp breath. “Wow, does that smart. I…I fell. Must have hit my head on something.”

Clarity suddenly lit behind the girl’s eyes.

“The wolves,” she whispered, her wide-eyed gaze darting to the grounds beyond where Emeline stood. “Where’d they go?”

“No wolves here.” Emeline sighed and reached to help the girl to her feet. “Merely those in sheep’s clothing. At least
they
have the decency to wear some.”

“Thank goodness.” The girl either missed the criticism or ignored it altogether. She teetered for a moment on the most bizarre slippers—purple in color, like nothing Emeline had seen before. Once the stranger found her balance, she offered Emeline a sheepish smile. “I’m Addie, by the way.”

“Very well, then, Addie.” Emeline’s gaze shifted back to the purple fabric on the girl’s feet. “Are you well enough to climb?”

“Climb?” Her thin brows tugged down into a small vee. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Forgive me, wherever are my manners? I am Emeline Baker, head servant of King Robert’s royal manor. Now, dear girl, can you climb?”

“Royal manor? Huh.” Addie grinned. “I didn’t expect to meet any royals on my trip.”

“I am not of royalty, my dear. But as you stand atop one who is, I would say you and the prince have now met.”

“Standing…atop…the prince?”

Addie looked at the golden wing spread flat beneath her feet, dumbstruck. After a moment, the young woman’s gaze shifted to the dragon’s formidable belly and slowly continued along his scaled underside until reaching his raised head. A strangled squeak escaped her, and the dainty creature’s eyes rolled back in her head. Emeline stepped forward and caught Addie as she fainted once more.

Emeline cast the dragon a dark look. “You had to go and pick yourself a meek one.”

He offered her an unapologetic snort.

“I am far too old for this horseplay.” She half carried, half dragged the girl away from Zayne’s wings, then set her down with a grunt. “And so are you.”

Emeline gathered her skirts and hoisted herself onto his near shoulder. Heights were never a friend of hers, so she clamped both eyes shut as she felt her way along his broad shoulder. Soon her fingertips grazed the arrow’s shaft, and she slid one eye open to look at the weapon still lodged in the prince’s side. With a grunt and a sharp tug, she pulled it free. A pained roar erupted from between Zayne’s fiery lips.

“Aim your fire elsewhere, beast.” She chucked the bloodied weapon to the ground. “’Twas not I who shot you.”

Slowly she made her way back down and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she bent to drag their unconscious guest off the prince’s pinned wing. “Though if you make a habit of stealing female peasants from our rival land, I may do just that.”

* * * * *

Queen Helena stood beside her bedroom window, watching the sun fade into oblivion. Another day had passed and still no word. Berinon had promised results, had spoken the prophecy, and yet here she was, left wondering still.

“Beg your pardon, Your Majesty.”

Helena turned to find her handmaiden standing just inside the door, the girl’s wide, brown eyes apologetic. “What is it, Thomasina?”

“A scroll for you, my queen.”

Helena’s skin pricked. Deliveries to the castle at this hour were unusual. Ones addressed to her rather than the king rarer still. She smoothed a hand over her thick, full skirt and applied the proper amount of concern to her countenance. “By all means, bring it here.”

Skittish as a mouse, Thomasina crossed the chamber and placed the scroll in her queen’s outstretched hand. Then she curtseyed and took several small paces back to await further instructions.
A good girl, this one.
Helena shifted her gaze to the glossy red wax seal stamped upon the rolled parchment and brushed a trembling finger across its intricate design. Had her plan been discovered? She drew in a deep breath and opened the scroll. Three words greeted her:

It is done.

The queen’s breath caught in her throat.

“I-is everything all right, my lady?”

“News from my mother about the prince’s upcoming wedding, is all,” lied Helena as she moved to toss her message into the fire. “Fetch me my cloak, dear girl. I wish to take a walk in the gardens.”

The young girl cast a nervous glance out the window at the darkening sky. “At this hour, Your Majesty?”

“Aye.” Helena’s gaze remained fixed upon the glowing red embers devouring the news she’d so desperately desired, fighting against a new set of fears instilled in her heart. “I believe some fresh air will do me well before I retire for the night.”

“As you wish.”

Chapter Three

Addie runs alongside a field of endless green, watching the fluffy white sheep that dot its hillside. A black car veers toward her, and she tumbles down a roadside berm. Down, down, down. A dark, damp forest appears out of nowhere. Snarling wolves lie in wait to greet her. She turns to run and steps in a snake hole; her ankle twists painfully. Scared and hurt she cries out for help. In an instant, it arrives—not in the form of a man, but an enormous golden dragon with talons the length of her forearm…

Addie’s eyes snapped open. To her great relief, she found she was no longer outdoors and no monsters loomed before her, poised to strike. Instead, she was in a dimly lit room. The scent of burning wood tickled her nose, and as she sat up and rubbed her sleep-bleary eyes, a large, stone fireplace came into view.

But her hotel room didn’t have a fireplace, did it?

Her gaze shifted from the red and gold flames dancing in its grate and fell upon a slender, intricately carved wooden column nearby. She leaned forward to take a closer look, then froze at the realization that she sat atop a four-poster bed. Panic seeped back into her chest. She knew for certain her room at the Jurys Inn didn’t have a bed like this. But if the wolves hadn’t made off with her, then who had?

Wait, hadn’t she been talking to an old woman earlier? Before she’d seen—

No
, Addie told herself and rubbed her forehead. There hadn’t been a giant golden dragon, nor had one carried her from the woods. She must have hit her head harder than she thought when she took that tumble to be thinking crazy thoughts like this. Someone must have seen her fall and brought her here to make sure she was okay, though that seemed a bit excessive. Back in the States, a dozen people would have done nothing more than whip out their cell phones and dial 9-1-1 as they kept driving. Maybe in England they were a little more old-fashioned when it came to caring for the injured.

Old-fashioned is right.
Addie scanned the rest of the room. Large woven prints hung on the walls, depicting lush rolling hills and grand towering castles. The room’s furnishings were sparse and simple in design: a wingback chair, a chaise lounge, two bookcases, a small side table, a nightstand. Flickering oil lamps cast muted pools of light around the space.

Wait, was that a bearskin rug on the floor?

Addie shrank back from the foreign surroundings and tugged at the heavy quilt covering her, then bit back a cry of alarm as she realized for the first time she was dressed in unfamiliar clothes. Though her jogging attire was still in place, long, sheer sleeves now covered her arms. A quick peek under the covers found that the fabric extended well beyond her knees as well. Was this a
nightgown
?

She gulped in a deep breath and tried to make sense of it all. Maybe whoever ran her off the road was older, conservative? Perhaps the woman hovering on the fringe of her memory?

Yes, that could be it. Maybe that woman and her elderly husband had been uncomfortable with Addie’s tank top and running shorts, put a nightgown on her, and brought her here until she awoke. That sounded much less threatening than the alternatives she’d started to consider. At least her overly helpful rescuer had had the decency to leave her jogging clothes in place.

Still, the whole thing was a little too creepy by American standards.

Footsteps and muffled voices drifted in from beneath the room’s door. Not yet ready to face her rescuers—or whatever they might truly be—Addie scrambled to lie back down and play unconscious awhile longer. A moment later, the door creaked open.

“Listen to me,” said a low, deep voice sounding nothing like that of a little old man. “It was different this time.
She
was different.”

“’Tis what you said with the last one, sire. And the one before that.”

This second voice was the one Addie had hoped to hear—it belonged to the older woman. If only she could remember more about her…

“She was cornered by a pack of wolves! What would you have preferred I do? Leave her to perish?”

The man’s silky, rich voice washed over Addie. The kind that could soothe even the most frayed nerves with the right mixture of words. As it was, his words made her pulse quicken. The wolves had been
real
?

“If it would have spared you from needless injury? Then yes, yes, I would have preferred that course of action. Entirely.”

Someone shuffled closer to the bed, and Addie felt the covers being pulled higher upon her shoulders.

“When did you grow into such a cold, heartless woman, Emeline?” the man asked with a chuckle from across the room.