Realm of Dragons

“Yes,” he said. “You will. And then what all the others want, too. King Ravin was quite clear.”

“Please,” Lenore begged. As he threw her down to the stable floor, she found herself hoping, praying, that one of her brothers would arrive just in time to save her like something out of a song. It always happened like that, didn’t it? They would be there, and they would save her, and…

Suddenly, a rope wrapped around her neck, forcing her to look up at the man who scowled down at her with pure hatred.

“Good,” the man said. “Let’s begin.”

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Aurelle stretched out in the prince’s bed, waiting to see if he would return to it, and to her. When it became clear that he wouldn’t, she stood and dressed before heading down quietly through the castle. With the feast done, there weren’t as many people to see where she went, but it also meant that there weren’t as many to mask her comings and goings.

At least the guards in the castle were used to her now. They’d seen her on Prince Greave’s arm, and that seemed to be enough to grant her license to leave without questions. She assumed it would get her back in when she needed to as well.

“Everything is fine,” she told herself, but she looked behind her for the possibility of anyone following, just to be sure.

Her first stop was the alley where she’d hidden a cloak and a change of clothes: a plainer dress that wouldn’t catch the eye, and shoes that were anything but delicate. There was a dagger there too, just in case she needed it. Aurelle dressed quickly, making sure no one was coming, then set off again, still checking for anyone following. Past a certain point, paranoia was simply a sensible precaution.

Out through the city she went, into the entertainment district, heading in the direction of the looming House of Sighs. It was the sort of place where someone who came and went normally could do so without attracting unwanted questions, without the risks that would come from a neighborhood filled with thugs and cutpurses. Aurelle would hate to have to kill someone; it would draw far too much attention.

She walked along, feeling the changing shapes of the cobbles of the streets as she went, making her way to a side door of the House, one of those reserved for quiet entrances and exits. The House of Sighs was good at discretion. It made it such a perfect meeting place. She went in, heading for the usual room, a surprisingly simple one given the wealth of her … benefactor.

The arrangement of ribbons left on the door would have seemed like simple decoration to anyone else, but to Aurelle it was a sign carefully left, saying all was as it should be. The House of Sighs taught more than simply how to give oneself to those who paid, after all, at least for those with the talent for it.

Aurelle reached out and opened the door, stepping inside elegantly. Her employer was sitting on the bed, waiting for her, sharp eyes scanning her, lingering as they always lingered. Those hawk-like features lent a predatory edge to the movement.

Duke Viris stood, and Aurelle curtseyed elegantly. She knew he liked that.

“There is wine, if you wish it,” Duke Viris said, gesturing to a bottle and two glasses. He took one, rolling it between his fingers. Aurelle took the other, sniffing it carefully. As far as she knew, the duke had no reason to poison her, but that was the problem—she would only know afterward.

“So,” the duke said. “Is all going as I require?”

Aurelle nodded. “The prince is suitably distracted from thoughts of a cure. Your men were able to search the library while I kept him… busy, although they made a clumsy job of it.”

“I’m sure your own efforts were far less clumsy,” he said. “Did you have any problems with Greave?”

Aurelle laughed at that thought. “Hardly. Poor Prince Greave has been so starved of affection that he all but threw himself at me, even if he didn’t know he was doing it.”

“Good,” Duke Viris said. “Is the prince suitably enamored of you?”

“All that and more,” Aurelle said with a faint laugh. “You should see him: poor, sad Prince Greave, running around after me like an eager puppy.”

“Just remember who gives the commands,” Duke Viris said.

Aurelle nodded carefully. “Yes, my lord. You employ me.”

“I do,” the duke said. “Remember, the youngest son cannot be allowed to find a cure. The princess’s illness, and all that King Godwin has done out of his love for her, will continue to drive a wedge between him and the nobles. With my son married to his daughter, when things reach the point that they are looking for a new king, my family will be in a position to take its place.”

“As you say, my lord,” Aurelle said. She filed away the reasoning, because it was knowledge worth having.

“You do not think it will work?” Duke Viris said.

Aurelle spread her hands. “I am sure that you have considered every possibility.”

“I have. The king will be too tainted for having hidden his daughter’s illness. Prince Rodry will no doubt do something rash. Prince Vars is sufficiently hated that none will side with him. You will act as I say against Prince Greave. Princess Lenore will be controlled by Finnal. Princess Nerra is banished. Princess Erin is off doing the kinds of dangerous things where she could easily meet an accident…”

“No doubt an arranged one,” Aurelle said.

The duke flashed her a hard look and Aurelle instantly made her expression one of contrition.

“You play your part well,” the duke said.

Her part: Aurelle Hardacre, sweet, innocent flower of a noble house, who had fallen instantly in love with her handsome prince and could barely bear to be parted from him. That Aurelle was the kind of figure the real Aurelle would have had nothing but contempt for, simpering and sheltered, with no understanding of the realities of the world.

“The House of Sighs did well, sending you to me,” the duke said. She saw his glance across to the bed in the corner of the room. Most of the rooms in the House of Sighs had a bed.

“Thank you, my lord. I live to serve.”

“And since you are paid for…”

He drew her to him and kissed her, then pushed her back in the direction of the bed. Aurelle didn’t tense at it. She could play this part as well as any other.

At least, until it became more advantageous to play a better one.

CHAPTER FORTY

Devin heard a dragon roaring, the sound of it filling the world around him. He was standing in a place where volcanoes filled the skyline, and winged shapes flew around them. He could see other things there, things that weren’t human, things that were twisted out of shape and strange, things that could only exist in one place…

Sarras.

As if the thought had summoned it, his mind’s eye conjured a map of the place, moving in and out so that he could see the jungles and the wastelands, the glassy spaces burned by dragon fire and the ash. Then the map became lines on an arm, a tattoo…

Devin was looking at a younger version of his father now, and there was another man with him, wrapped in a cloak. He was looking up at them, as if he were very small, and Devin had the feeling that this was more than some imagining; it was a memory.

“Take him, raise him. If I find any harm has come to him…”

“None will, my lord.”

“The boy is special, born on the dragon moon, in that place. None can be allowed to know…”

Devin woke.

His head hurt, and the whole of the inside of his mouth felt like it was covered in fur. He looked around for the dragon, for the forest, for the youth who had spoken, because it had seemed so real that for a moment he had expected that they would still be there. Instead, he saw the interior of Sir Halfin’s rooms, where he seemed to be wrapped up in furs in front of the fire.

There was a note there, left by the knight. Gone hunting with the prince. Stay as long as you wish. Maybe learn to hold your drink better.

Devin smiled at the knight’s idea of a joke, and even that made his head ache. He rose, knowing he couldn’t just wait here for the knights and the prince to return. For one thing, there was too much he still needed to do.

He hadn’t managed to speak to Master Grey yet, and he suspected he wouldn’t until the sorcerer was ready. Then there was the dream. It nagged at him, and Devin knew it wasn’t just a dream. He’d been remembering, remembering things that had actually happened to him. If that was true though… that meant he wasn’t who he had thought he was. He was someone else entirely.