Dark Hope of the Dragons Page 6

  “Why did you leave?”

  She hesitated a moment, but there did not seem much harm in telling him the truth. Avaline could have told him if she ever wanted to. “Your mother always possessed more natural charm and, as a result, was much more popular with the young suitors than I was. She caught the attention of every young gentleman who came around, even the ones I fancied. It happened so often I started to wonder if she were doing it on purpose to vex me. But I never let it worry me too much. I wasn’t that serious about them. Then I started to fall hard for a particular young lord in the court. We had spent some time together and I was certain he returned my affections. The day I worked up the courage to tell him how I felt, I found Lornin kissing your mother.”

  “My blood father?”

  Amahna smirked at the shock in his tone. “None other. She won his heart, as you know, and then she continued to drag him along, keeping him on a tight leash even after she gained the interest of the young Prince Mythan. Perhaps I could have turned my affection to women, but I hadn’t explored that part of myself yet. I believed I needed a man of my own and I hated her for taking Lornin from me. I felt like I would never find someone as long as she was there.

  “It was around then that Rakas rode through town. He was young and so darkly handsome. He took a fancy to me and, more importantly, he didn’t even seem to see your mother. I suppose I was shallow, but that alone would have been enough to capture my devotion back then, but he also promised that he could bring me great power where he lived, and I wanted that. I wanted the kind of attention he gave me, and I wanted the kind of power my sister would have when she married Mythan, which I had no doubt she would. I was so hurt and angry over Lornin that I left one night with Rakas without a word to anyone.”

  “What happened between you and Rakas?”

  She smiled wistfully. “Relationships change. We are no longer lovers. I have someone else in my life now. We still interact and travel together on occasion.”

  He was silent for a time, then, when the path widened, he moved his mount up beside her in a more open and confident position. “Why go to the graveyard?”

  “That’s better. You shouldn’t ride behind me like a servant or a thief. Have you ever been to the graveyard?”

  Dephithus frowned at her as if she had lost her mind. “We celebrate the dead in the palace while the Silent Watch buries them. You lived here long enough to know that.”

  “Indeed.” She gave him a smug little smile designed to pique his curiosity.

  The graveyard was in a large clearing amidst the thickest stand of trees in the forest. The graves were laid out in a circular pattern with the oldest at the foot of the statue in the center. Dephithus dismounted before the first grave and left his mount standing there, the animal’s reins falling from his hand as though forgotten. His attention fixated on that center statue. Amahna stopped her mount inside the cover of the trees at the edge of the graveyard proper and watched him approach the magnificent Mother Dragon, Vanuthan, where she crouched protectively over the mass of graves as if her own children were buried there. Vines grew over that massive stone body in places, some dripping down over her great head like chains dragging her down.

  Dephithus moved toward the Mother Dragon as if nothing else existed in the world. There was caution in his movement, despite his obvious fascination, almost as though he knew there was more to the dragon than stone. When he reached the foot of the statue, he sank to his knees there and caressed one of Vanuthan’s clawed feet with a gentle touch. It was all Amahna could do not to laugh with delight when a single tear squeezed free of the stone eye and ran down the dragon’s face to drop upon the boy’s head.

  Dephithus frowned up at the sky, searching for the offending cloud, and Amahna allowed herself a smile.

  The dragon-child got hastily to his feet when Amahna moved her mount out into the open and he brushed his knees off, as though trying to hide what he had been doing. There was a tremble in the dragon’s power then, stronger than she had ever felt from any one dragon. The Mother Dragon wanted very badly to protect her son. Rakas would probably curse her later for tempting the dragon’s fury, but it amused Amahna to remind them of how helpless they really were.

  Dephithus had cocked his head to the side, his gaze focused intently on the ground. Somehow, he too had felt something of the disturbance in the dragon web of power.

  “She’s a dragon, isn’t she? I’ve never seen one before. I’ve only heard of them in children’s stories.”

  Amahna said nothing, though she was surprised that he knew the dragon was female. There was a strong connection between him and the beast.

  “Was I wrong to touch her? Is that what that trembling was?”

  She made her expression solemn and imagined Theruses in place of the dragon so that she could gaze upon it with something like reverence. “No, there is nothing wrong with what you did. There is a dragon guardian in all the graveyards. It is shameful that we never come to appreciate them.”

  Dephithus turned his captivating eyes up to wonder over the long, slender head of the dragon. “She doesn’t look so fearsome. She’s quite beautiful. Why do people make them out to be so horrible in children’s stories?” He faced Amahna and began to pick his way toward her after gently touching Vanuthan’s foot once more.

  “It’s just another way of frightening children into behaving.”

  Amahna regarded the dragon-child with a prickling of dread creeping up the back of her neck. She could already feel herself becoming fond of him. No wonder the villagers and gate guards were so receptive when she had said she was his aunt. He was the kind of young man you could not help liking. He was handsome, kind hearted, honest. There was little about him that Theruses would like, though she found him quite enchanting. If only she could find some way of luring him from his home. Then maybe she could turn him to the daemon power in a nicer way. She could show him the wonders of the world as she knew it and lead him gently to Theruses.

  “Have you ever considered anything other than your life here? Perhaps adventuring or offering yourself as a hired hero.”

  He swung up on his mount and settled himself in before turning to regard her thoughtfully. After a moment he shook his head. “Those aren’t proper pursuits for a well-trained soldier and I am the expected heir to the throne. I can’t go gallivanting off like I have no responsibilities. Besides, there’s nothing to fight, not like in the fancy stories.”

  Amahna frowned. “I suppose those are all good points. Although, one might wonder what the point is of being a soldier in the Legion when there’s nothing to fight.”

  He grinned, and she could see in that easy expression that she was winning his trust.

  “Also, a good point. I will have to think on that.” He looked up at the sky for a moment then his gaze drifted back to the dragon as if pulled there. “Mother will want to fuss over me for a few hours before the festivities, we had probably best get back, but…” He faced her again. “I thank you for this ride, it was unexpected and interesting.”

  Amahna bowed her head, as much to hide her pleasure at his words as to show her growing respect. “Certainly, my young lord. I do hope we get another chance to visit before I leave again.”

  She let Dephithus lead off, pausing a moment before following to breathe in the fragrant forest and remember her resolve. Picturing Theruses in her mind, she knew that she could and would do anything for him. Setting her shoulders and lifting her head high, she turned her mount and followed the dragon-child.

  CHAPTER SIX

  For Dephithus, preparing for the Dawning Day celebration consisted mostly of teasing his mother about the inappropriate things he might be inclined to do on this most auspicious of nights while she fretted and fussed over how he should act and what he should wear. Rothrik, the man fixing his hair at that moment, had already been redirected on how to do so no less than seven times.

  “All of the eligible young ladies will be there.” Avaline was saying. “The daught
er of—”

  “What about the young men?” Dephithus interrupted.

  His mother stared at him for a moment as though surprised he had spoken. “What?”

  “The eligible young men. Will they be there?”

  She smiled reassurance. “Plenty of young men will be there, darling, but none hold a candle to you.”

  “I was hoping they’d hold themselves to me,” Dephithus remarked, digging at a stubborn bit of dirt under one fingernail.

  Rothrik, his back to Avaline, was biting his lower lip to fight back a smile.

  “What?” She asked again.

  “I feel like men are just better dancers,” he continued, enjoying the forlorn look on her face. “I don’t know that I’ll waste much time dancing with the ladies tonight.”

  “W… well,” she stammered. She was silent then for a few seconds and he could see she was struggling for the right words. “It isn’t that you shouldn’t dance with the men, darling. As heir to the throne, however, it might be advisable to get to know some of the young ladies at least. There is the matter of future heirs after all.” Her eyes widened as if she had just realized something. “Is that why you and Myara are only friends?”

  Dephithus burst out with a laugh. “I’m only teasing you mother. I’ll dance with every lady in the place if it pleases you.”

  Avaline let out a dramatic breath of relief. “You shouldn’t torture your mother so. I’m going to go see how the food is coming along. Please see that he is presentable when he leaves here, Rothrik.”

  The man stopped working for a moment to offer her a gracious nod. “Of course, my Lady. I have such a handsome foundation to start with after all.”

  Dephithus cracked a grin. “Vying for the first dance I see.”

  Rothrik chuckled and Avaline shook her head at them before bustling from the room.

  About an hour later, all decked out in his finery, Dephithus found himself a quiet corner to watch from. Servants bustled about preparing several long tables, set in the shape of a horseshoe, for the enormous assortment of foods they would soon bear. It was probably a good thing that they had gatherings of this magnitude very rarely, he could almost smell the weariness of the men and women as they rushed to make sure every detail was arranged perfectly and on time. There had been a miscount at some point that required the addition of two more table settings and a mass shuffling of every place setting at the tables. At least three people had adjusted the spacing of the plates and silverware on the long tables no less than five times since then.

  This group of servants would move on to setup the dessert hall while the guests dined and would then be allowed to rest while a second group attended the guests and a third followed along to clean up. All things considered, he would rather be in the first group since the second had to keep the hours of the guests and the third would be up long after everyone else had retired.

  The nobles who had arrived early were out enjoying the garden and Dephithus, as the guest of honor, chose to keep himself out of sight since returning to the palace. In perhaps an hour, he and his family, consisting of Mythan, Avaline, and his blood father Lornin—who despised large gatherings, but had agreed to attend only because it was a very special occasion—would meet their guests in the greeting hall. Kent, Vicard, and their daughters had tactfully declined seats at the greeting, choosing more appropriate spots standing below and to the left of the throne dais.

  Here, among the servants, Dephithus was allowed his peace. They did not bother him, offering only a nod or smile in his direction when they noticed him watching. Though they were considered lesser by some, they knew the value of time alone as well as any lord or lady expected to host grand affairs. At ease among them, Dephithus laid his head back against the cold granite of a wall column in the dining hall and closed his eyes. With several deep, even breaths, he cleared his head. Tonight, he would be expected to behave with all the nobility of manner a king would possess, which seemed a lot to ask of a sixteen-year-old boy. Not to imply that he could not do it, or even that he would not enjoy it, but it would be exhausting.

  He could feel some change in the air at Mythan’s approach and wondered if he would ever have such presence as his den-father did. Before Mythan could speak Dephithus opened his eyes and regarded the lord of Imperious thoughtfully. Mythan returned the thoughtful scrutiny for a moment, his gaze hesitating on the silver scaling at his temples a second too long before moving to his silver-green catlike eyes.

  “Pardon my boldness, Den-father, but you seem troubled by something.”

  Mythan nodded, his expression one of approval. “Yes. You trouble me, my son.”

  Dephithus sat up straighter, worried by the solemnity behind that statement while quite aware that Mythan had called him my son and not den-son or Dephithus.

  “Don’t fret,” Mythan moved over and sank down beside him as though some great weight bore him down, “you have done nothing wrong. I just fear that you may not have an easy time ruling the kingdom when your turn comes to sit upon this throne.”

  “Because I’m different? A throwback to the Dragonkin?”

  Mythan’s grimace was full of guilt, but he nodded. “There’s always your two half-sisters, and my brother in Cuvath has sons. If you don’t want this, tell me now and I will not announce you as my chosen heir tonight. I know I should have brought this up sooner…”

  Dephithus lifted a hand to stop him. “Den-father.” He hesitated a moment, considering how he had been addressed. “Father, you may have only mentioned it now, but I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. If you will honor me by naming me your heir, I will gladly face any adversity to prove myself as worthy as any blood son.”

  Mythan’s smile was full of relief, his eyes moistening with the depth of his gratitude. “Very well then. Be warned though, I will probably ask more of you than I would a blood son.”

  Dephithus grinned, showing himself ready for the challenge, and Mythan squeezed his shoulder once. They both rose in sync to move out into the greeting hall.

  Avaline was already seated with Lornin on her left and Kent and his family below. When he looked at his blood-father, he was a little surprised to realize that Lornin shared some of the same darkly handsome traits that might have attracted Amahna to Rakas. Perhaps it was not so hard to image her being attracted to his father as well.

  Dephithus pushed away those musings and took his place on his mother’s right, his ornate throne, a fanciful piece embellished with bejeweled silver dragons on the arms and over the back, was pushed a few inches forward to distinguish him.

  The throne was originally made for the Dragonkin Lady Verr ages ago and Mythan felt it was time to put it to use again. They agreed that it was better to acknowledge up front and celebrate that Dephithus was different rather than trying to gloss over the fact. The same effort went into his attire. His deep green coat and pants were embroidered in silver, proudly enhancing the strangeness of his eyes and scaling. He had long shared Mythan’s concerns about how he would be accepted by the people as their ruler. He dressed this way tonight because he wanted everyone to remember that he was different now, not later when the day came for him to step into his den-father’s shoes.

  Mythan sat in his throne to the right of Dephithus and, with a subtle gesture, directed the doorman to begin the greeting ceremony.

  Guests were escorted into the room in family groups and walked down the center in twos. Their names were called out by the usher as they entered, with Mythan’s personal attendant whispering the names again before they stopped to bow or curtsy in front of the dais, ensuring that they could greet each one personally.

  His blood-father, Lornin, scowled equally at everyone. He did not seem to harbor any dislike for anyone in particular, he was simply awkward in crowds and ill-at-ease with the formalities of the court. Dephithus could afford none of his blood-father’s detachment. He greeted each guest by name with all the dignity he could muster in an effort to show himself worthy of Mythan’s re
spect.

  Their efforts to enhance his differences had the desired effect. Several guests hesitated before greeting him, their composure momentarily disrupted, as they met his strange eyes. The younger ladies giggled or blushed more often than not, seeming even more delighted than usual at his appearance. He had never seen them so finely dressed as they were now that he would soon be of an age to choose a bride. The brilliant array of gowns turned the room into a vibrant garden of colors and styles.

  Amahna and Rakas entered with the other guests. Amahna had been apart from the family far too long to be granted a place of honor and, to her credit, she did not seem to expect one. She greeted him with an appreciative smile and a kiss on one cheek. Rakas was gracious, managing for once not to look like he was ready to dine upon delectable Dragonkin. He bowed and moved on without any hint of his usual fascination and Dephithus was so relieved he almost thanked him on the spot, but he caught himself and merely nodded politely.

  He had to remind himself not to do or say anything silly when Myara and her family came to be greeted. For all that she looked every bit the beautiful court lady in her gold gown, he could not help feeling the urge to fall into their usual teasing ways. If anything, how amazing she looked all decked out like that, her shape enhanced by the cut of the gown and her hair done up with green leaf-shaped gems that reminded him of many a glorious afternoon in the Mother Tree, made it even harder to resist. But they both knew the importance of the occasion, so they simply smiled at each other with the agony of restrained mischief sparkling in their eyes.

  When all the guests had been received and the greeting hall was filled with expectant faces, Dephithus stood, as had been rehearsed, and took a deep breath, borrowing confidence from the closeness of his family.

  “I am grateful that you have all come to celebrate this special night with us. I hope that, in the years to come, I will prove myself worthy of the honor you do me by sharing this night with me. For now, I imagine the smell of the waiting banquet is clouding your mind as much as it is mine, so without further delay, I invite you all to join us in commencing the festivities with a grand feast.”