One

Simon’s first night back in the body of the dragon had been a long one.

It began the same way it always had—with flight. After the physical pleasure that accompanied his transformation from man to beast, Simon’s will was not truly his own until he sliced through the night sky on renewed wings.

When the euphoria wore off, Simon returned to the same canyon floor. He walked to the wall of stone, stopped, and inhaled. He roared as he swung his right foreleg against it.

Simon screamed in pain and looked down at his talon. The nail was split and bleeding. He continued to stare at it.

The bleeding slowed, but it did not stop. And the split nail did not heal.

When the moon breached the horizon on the previous night, Simon was filled with rage. He cursed the dragon wings when they erupted from his shoulders. He determined to keep his hands from becoming talons, even if it meant crippling himself. Last night, he bashed this same talon against the canyon wall, but it had healed—instantly.

 “So,” Simon said aloud to no one. “This body. This wretched body—will not be denied. Not until it has consumed me.”

Simon the dragon returned to his human body for only one day each month—from the full moon until the rise of the next moon.

And now, another month would pass—trapped inside the beast. His one opportunity to meet the girl he loved while he was in his human form—had died.

Died, in the depths of Morgenwraithe Castle.

Simon sat down hard. He stared at his broken and bleeding talon—where his human hand had been just two nights ago.

The hand that had touched Queen Jaclyn’s arm—in the middle of that cold, dark dungeon. Simon roared again and filled the air with fire and smoke.

He had risked much to obtain that one tender touch—and where had it led?

Death.

Two soldiers of the King’s Guard almost caught him and Jaclyn. They could have caught Jaclyn’s father committing an act of treason as well.

The soldiers were doing what they had sworn to do; protect the kingdom and its king and queen.

But those soldiers would have delivered the queen and her father to the vicious Lord Sterling. Jaclyn and Lord Nicolas Lamont would have been convicted of treason and executed.

All because he wanted to meet Jaclyn Lamont Morgenwraithe face-to-face.

She was the queen. And his brother’s wife. And Simon had loved her since the first time he saw her.

And so, the night that might have been magical ended in disaster The bodies of two soldiers would rot in the bottomless pit beneath the castle, and no one else would ever know.

Simon could not bear to leave Jaclyn to dwell on those horrific memories. He could not bear to think that when she remembered him, she would remember…death. Simon told Jaclyn that he would leave something for her. He would leave it in the tower of Islemar, the place where they first met.

In his final hours as a man, he had written a note. It contained his deepest thoughts and feelings. His feelings…for her. She screamed the first time she saw him, of course. Five years ago, she leaned out of a tower window and looked into the dragon’s eyes.

But their hearts had connected that night. And after five long years, Simon sought to meet her during his one night as an eighteen-year-old man.

But fate would not have it. The castle guards intervened, and the dungeon beneath Castle Morgenwraithe was plunged into darkness.

Simon looked at his talon again. Against his tortured memories from that night, Simon had only the distant memory of touching Jaclyn’s arm.

The moment should have been tender. But instead, it was a moment bathed in violence.

Later, at the home of the sorceress, Magdalena, the death toll continued to rise. Two more soldiers of the King’s Guard were dispatched to check on Magdalena. They found her at home, wounded by an arrow. They would have reported this information to Lord Sterling, but Simon could not allow that to happen.

One guard was dead by Simon’s hand. The other, by the Lady Magdalena’s fangs, after she changed into the body of a wolf.

Something tickled Simon’s leg. He looked down and smiled. A chameleon climbed up his leg. Simon watched it take on the ruddy brown color of his scales.

Simon was forced to entertain himself for most of his life. He learned to find amusement in the most unlikely places. It was a part of him that had never grown up, and likely never would.

Simon willed his scales to turn to a crimson red. The chameleon followed suit. Simon turned his scales to green. Again, the chameleon followed. Simon continued through all the colors of the rainbow. And then, he brushed the chameleon to the ground.

“Maybe we will play again, one day, little fellow. But I have miles left to travel.”

From Islemar, Simon flew to the farmlands outside of Morgenwraithe village. He intended to repay a debt to a farmer who had once been kind enough to loan Simon his clothes.

It was not the farmer’s idea, but he had seen the wisdom in complying. Simon was desperate at the time, and he felt bad about intimidating the man.

Simon stood and stretched his wings. He took a deep breath and shrugged off his feelings of self-pity.

I hope the farmer thinks well of me. Every time he pulls on those new boots.

 

Two

Simon sighed and pushed himself to his feet. He was tired after crossing half the kingdom. It was time to go back to Islemar and meet Boone and Helena. He breathed in deeply and launched himself into the air. Moments later, his stomach growled.

Simon swore to himself. In so many ways, his life as a human boy had been simpler. Sometimes he would forget to eat, or leave the table after only a few bites of food; because to the inquisitive young heir to the throne,

Eating was boring.

What fun was it to sit and chew when there was an entire world to explore? When there was so much to learn?

When the hours could be better spent filling his mind with facts and figures and history

Hoping that his father, King Bailin, would be proud of him.

But the body that Simon inhabited since his sixth name day would not allow him to go hungry for long.

No, this body did not merely require nourishment to keep blood coursing through his veins. It demanded fuel to stoke the furnace in his belly.

Simon Smyth Morgenwraithe, the dragon, had the strength of twenty men. His jaws could cut a full-grown man in two. And they had done so.

His talons were powerful and razor-sharp. A layer of nearly impenetrable scales covered most of his eighteen hundred and fifty pounds. He was a living, breathing, flying, almost perfect

Killing machine.

Simon soared effortlessly. He closed his eyes and dozed. The day grew warm after an early morning rain, and the air was fresh and clean. Every one of his senses brought him closer and closer to a deep inner peace.

He breathed easily. He was less than two hours away from his adopted cave high over the coast of Islemar. The cove beneath it was home to endless schools of fish.

Simon saw movement at the corner of his vision. A herd of bison quickened their pace as they crossed the field of tall grass.

Simon’s mouth watered automatically at the sight of the herd. Bison had been his favorite food once upon a time—but that was in the days that someone else had hunted them. Someone else butchered and prepared them and put the cooked meat in front of him.

That was a long, long time ago.

Simon did not slow down or alter his course. His dragon eyes told his dragon stomach that there was a feast beneath him, but Simon was no ordinary dragon.

Simon was still in control of his mind. And his mind saw a family—a family on its way home.

Besides, Simon thought, I love my fish dinners, especially after they are roasted to a crispy

The peaceful, silent afternoon was broken by the screams of a hurt and frightened calf. A pack of ten jackals cut the calf off from its herd.

Something is not right, Simon thought. Jackals do not hunt in packs that large. What unholy force is at work here?

Simon was exhausted, and he had no patience. He was hungry. And the scene of impending death below him threatened to drive him over the edge.

Simon beat his wings and flew to the north. He narrowed his eyes and focused his attention on the mountain range ahead. His gaze wandered to his side. He looked out at his powerful wings; a vital part of his existence for the last twelve years. These wings had kept him alive.

These wings had kept his friends alive.

His wings could propel his huge frame at the speed of an arrow. He raised his muscled foreleg in front of his eyes. One blow from his talon could fell a small tree—or separate a man or beast from its head. And if that was not enough,

There was the fire.

Simon roared into the empty sky. He exhaled angrily—a blast of fire and oily smoke. He tilted his wings and made a wide, sweeping arc. The dragon glared down at the blood-thirsty predators.

“Everyone and everything has to eat,” Simon said aloud. “I do not hold that against you. But you have chosen the wrong day to force me to watch the innocent suffer!”

Simon dove.

He roared and flew low over the pack, giving them one chance to abandon the calf and seek their next meal elsewhere. Four of the jackals retreated, but only for a moment. All ten closed in again. They circled the crying calf—biting and clawing at its legs and hindquarters to bring it to the ground.

Simon turned again and snorted fire from his nostrils. He sized up the largest of the jackals, beat his wings, and drove himself forward. Simon lowered his head and hit the jackal broadside. He caromed into two of the others and the four of them rolled across the field. The mad beasts barked and snapped their teeth. One of them sank its fangs deep into his leg.

Simon screamed in rage. He kicked his powerful foreleg and knocked the jackal away. The calf saw an opening and did not hesitate to take it.

The three upended jackals got to their feet. They shook themselves and joined the rest of the pack that chased after the calf.

But the hunters were now the hunted.

Simon circled quickly. His eyes glowed red. He zeroed in on the pack leader and sent a blast of flame that engulfed the jackal. After one scream of pain, the jackal fell dead. Simon circled once to see if the fiery death of one jackal gave the pack second thoughts.

It did not.

One more quick pass and a blast of flame and the threat was over.

Simon landed. His wings felt too heavy to lift. He exhaled heavily. Black smoke poured from the sides of his mouth. He smiled as he watched the calf join the herd. The smile faded when he looked back at the ten smoldering carcasses.

“I would have been perfectly happy with a belly full of fish,” Simon said to the dead.

“I gave you a chance. This result—was your choice.”

He sighed. There was no need to push himself on to the shores of Islemar tonight when roasted meat littered the ground in front of him.

Simon rested on his haunches; hidden away in a half-circle of trees. After consuming the charred remains of ten jackals, he was full and content. The screaming pressure from his empty belly was only a memory.

It will be nightfall soon, he thought. I can sleep here tonight and join Boone and Helena in the morning.

He dozed off.

 

Three

Simon woke to a rustling in the trees. He held his breath.

Could it be King’s Guard? Or army? Not likely, he thought. Men on horseback would not travel through the forest.

Simon looked ahead of him at the broad expanse of grassy field. There was ample room for him to take to the sky and abandon his plans to rest there for the night. But he was not only very tired, he was tired of running away.

He stood up and backed up between two trees. His scales faded in color; making him almost invisible.

There was more rustling in the trees. And then the source of the commotion showed itself.

Three children pushed their way into the clearing. A tall boy held the hand of a younger girl. The girl held the hand of another very young boy. The oldest boy lifted his chin. He looked around and then stared into the eyes of the dragon.

“Please come out,” the boy said without a trace of fear. “We won’t hurt you.”

The girl looked up at the boy.

“Who are you talking to?”

 

Simon took a step forward.

“That would be me.”

The girl shrieked. She tried to run away, pulling on the older boy’s arm. The boy did not move.

“Run, Caleb!” the girl screamed. “He’s a….he’s a…!”

“He’s a dragon,” Simon said.

The youngest boy stared at Simon and sucked his thumb. The oldest boy’s face beamed with a broad smile.

“A dragon? A real, live dragon?”

“Please, Caleb!” the girl continued to pull at Caleb’s arm. “He will burn us to death!”

“No, he won’t,” Caleb said. His smile was broad and his voice was full of joy.

“Don’t be afraid, Sara. I feel his mind and his heart. He is kind and gentle.”

Caleb’s smile was genuine. At ease—and unafraid.

Simon stared at the boy. He took a step forward and raised his talon. He waved it in front of Caleb’s face. The boy did not move.

Caleb was blind.

 

“Thank you, Caleb,” Simon said. “Is this your brother and sister?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Caleb said. “My sister, Sara, and our brother Ezekiel.”

Ezekiel pulled his thumb from his mouth.

“Zeke!” he said loudly.

Simon laughed.

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Zeke! The same goes for you, Sara, and Caleb.”

 

Zeke pointed at his sister.

“Sawa!”

He pointed at his brother.

“Caba!”

Simon and Caleb laughed. Even Sara smiled a little.

“What is your name?” Sara asked.

 

Simon stopped laughing. He realized that this chance meeting was enough to put the children in danger.

“It will be dark soon,” Simon said.

“Not for me,” Caleb said.

“Won’t your parents worry about you?”“Mother has gentlemen callers,” Sara said. “We can’t go home until sunset.”

“Let me walk with you,” Simon said. “There are packs of jackals nearby. They can be quite dangerous in numbers.”

“Caleb won’t let them hurt us,” Sara said.

Simon sized up the boy. “Do you have a weapon?”

“No.”

“He doesn’t hurt them,” Sara said. “He talks to them—like he talked to you.”

“That is quite the skill,” Simon said. “Guard it closely. The king and his men have a great distrust of magic. They would like to have such abilities for themselves—or to see those with magic…go away.”

Sara chewed on her finger.

“No! The King has already taken our Father from us!”

“What happened?” Simon asked.

“Papa is dead!” Sara cried.

“He was killed,” Caleb said, “along with many of his fellows in the King’s Army.”

No…

“When did this happen?” Simon asked.

“Only weeks ago.”

“The Kingdom is not at war,” Simon said, a tremble in his voice “How did he die?”

“They would not tell us,” Caleb said.

Simon swallowed hard.

Weeks ago. His escape from the dungeon beneath Morgenwraithe Castle. Where his fire had taken the lives of scores of men wearing the uniform of the King’s Army.

 “Your mother has gentlemen callers? But you have just lost your father…”

“Mother says with Papa gone, things will be difficult for us,” Caleb said.

Sadness washed over Simon.

 “What troubles you, Lord Dragon?” Caleb asked.

“You did not say your name,” Sara said.

Simon hesitated.

“I know his name,” Caleb said.

“Please,” Simon said. “You must tell no one that you have spoken to me—or that you have seen me. It can bring you nothing but misery. And please, Caleb. You must keep your gifts a secret.”

“Papa always told me the same thing. You remind me of someone, My Lord.”

Simon looked wary.

“I don’t know her name,” Caleb said. “The lady is very mysterious. She is wise in the ways of magic. I tried many times, but I could never hear her thoughts.”

“This sorceress,” Simon said. “Or witch. How do you know her?”

“Father used to bring her here—to the woods. He told me to call her ‘Teacher’. She taught me many things.”

Caleb swallowed hard.

“I don’t know if I will ever hear her voice again.”

Sara leaned toward Simon and whispered.

“She is a wolf.”

 

Four

The wolf stopped at the edge of the forest where a stream formed a shallow pool. She waded in and plunged her head beneath the water. The wolf moved herself about—until all traces of blood washed away from her thick fur. She stepped onto the bank and shook herself dry.

The wolf stood on her hind legs and took human form.

The Lady Magdalena was the only known sorceress within the kingdom of Morgenwraithe. She had a surname as a child, but that was a long time ago. For much of her life, no one seemed to care if she had a name at all.

Magdalena used both hands to fluff out her long, black hair. She made her way to the King’s Road. Magdalena winced. A sharp pain in her thigh came and went.

What a bizarre turn of events, she thought. My life was spared—by the dragon and his friends.

She walked to the gates of Morgenwraithe castle. She carried an orb of light that lit her path. Four alert guards met her.

“I am here to see the King,” she said.

“We have orders to admit no one,” one guard said.

“Do not be absurd!” Magdalena said. She ignored the guards and walked between them. All four raised their swords, but they knew the threat was useless. Their fear was evident.

“Please, My Lady,” the guard said quietly. “You must understand, it gives us no pleasure to detain you, but Sterling—”

Magdalena stopped and waved her hand.

“Yes, we must comply with the whims of Lord Sterling. Send for him if you must.”

One guard ran toward the castle. He returned shortly, walking behind Sterling and Raynard. Those two were in quite a hurry.

“What are you doing here?” Sterling snapped. “I sent men to your home! Did you not—?”

“Of course, I saw them. That’s why I’m here! Your men told me nothing, but I knew there had to be some reason for their presence.”

Magdalena raised her eyes to the sky.

“And the moon is full.”

She looked past Sterling and Raynard.

“Was Simon here?”

“No!” Sterling shouted. “Do not be ridiculous! And keep your voice down—”

“Did my guards follow you?” Raynard asked.

He turned and looked up the King’s Road.

“I had no intention of allowing them inside my home,” Magdalena said. “I am certain they are doing a splendid job of guarding my door—just as you instructed them.”

“Send two more men to the Lady’s home to get them,” Sterling said to Raynard. “And bring them directly to me!”

“My Lord,” Raynard said quietly. “My men are spread thin.”

Sterling glared at Raynard. He looked at Magdalena.

“Guarding the Lady’s home has proven to be a dangerous undertaking,” Sterling said. “Send the men.”

“Immediately.”

 

“I wish to speak with Lucien,” Magdalena said.

“The King is resting,” Sterling said. “He had a little…accident. Struck his head. No cause for alarm.”

“But he and the Queen are safe?”

“Of course,” Sterling purred. “Why are you concerned?”

Magdalena glared at the other guards. Sterling waved them away.

“We do not know what thoughts lurk inside of Simon’s head,” Magdalena said. “After living so many years as a wild beast, how much of that sweet little child remains? He saw fit to murder the girl who loosed him from the dungeon. If he still carries the hope of regaining his birthright, then he may see Lucien’s child as the ultimate threat.”

Sterling laughed.

“My Lady. I believe you have spent too much time alone in that dreary hut full of potions. What a waste that is! You are still a desirable woman—for any man willing to risk being burned alive, that is!”

“I wonder,” Raynard said. “Will your magic tell whether the child is a boy or girl?”

Sterling raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Do you have such knowledge?”

Magdalena shook her head, perhaps too quickly.

“No. If such magic exists, I know nothing of it. Why should it matter? We know that the Queen’s womb is fruitful, and that the couple can perform the deed. She could have a dozen more children—unless the King continues to have accidents.”

“I do not care for your tone,” Sterling said.

“And I do not care for your insults, My Lord.”

“It is getting late,” Sterling said. “Captain, send a guard to see if someone has occupied the seer’s quarters. If so, throw them out. The Lady will be our guest tonight.”

Magdalena wanted to object, but she knew it would look suspicious. Within an hour, Sterling would learn that two more members of the King’s Guard lay dead

At her front door.

 

Five

Magdalena followed the guard to the castle. He held the door open.

“Thank you, Sire. I remember the way.”

The guard followed her anyway. She knew he would.

Magdalena stopped at the door of her old room. It had also been her daughter Arienna’s room. The guard reached past her to open the door.

“No. Please, wait.”

The guard observed her pained expression. He nodded, turned, and left her alone.

Magdalena reached for the door handle. Her hand shook. She closed her eyes and swallowed.

Almost everything was just as she remembered it. On the day that Arienna died by the Queen’s hand, Magdalena destroyed many items that had furnished the room. The destroyed tables, mirrors, and vases she later picked up and threw out of the window.

No one had dared to intervene on that dark day. Magdalena’s fury continued until she was overcome by grief and exhaustion.

She then placed a spell on the room—so it would stay as it was.

Forever.

Not even a speck of dust, mold, or dirt could remain. And absolutely nothing could be removed from the room.

Magdalena opened the wardrobe. She tenderly touched Arienna’s dresses. She pulled one against her face and inhaled. Magdalena could still smell the scent of rose water. The rare bottle of imported rose water had been a gift to her daughter. She acquired it by special request from the captain of a merchant ship.

The expensive bottle was Magdalena’s name day gift to Arienna. She wrapped it with great care and gave it to her daughter three months after the King moved the gifted young girl into the castle. On that day, Arienna became the King’s Seer.

Arienna replaced her own mother in that position of the King’s court.

Arienna was a frightened and miserable child in those early days. King Bailin kept her isolated and permitted only brief visits between mother and daughter. Arienna slowly resigned herself to her new life.

At each precious meeting between them, Magdalena kissed her daughter’s cheek. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of rose water mixed with Arienna’s purity and innocence. It made her weep, then.

And it made her weep, now.

Magdalena looked around the room. All the things that Arienna held precious were still there—on the tops of tables, and on the top shelf of her wardrobe.

There were dolls and animal figures carved from wood: pinwheels and noisemakers. Unusual and beautiful stones they found together on long walks outside of the castle walls. This happened in the days when Arienna was still a wide-eyed and curious child.

Every treasure was displayed with the greatest care.

Magdalena put a hand to her mouth and stifled a cry. For so many years, she had dwelt on the memory of her daughter being forced into the role of the King’s mistress. And for the past twelve years she could not see past the nightmare—the nightmare day when her lovely daughter became a victim of the queen’s mad rage.

Magdalena was an orphan, born to a farmer and his wife in the heart of the Southlands. Her mother died young. Failed crops meant that her father could not feed them. With nowhere else to turn, he sold his sons into slavery—to slave-traders from the north. A short time later, she was sold as well. She saw her father and her Gram killed by the man who dragged her to Morgenwraithe.

The good times had been so few—and so long ago that Magdalena was not sure she hadn’t made them up. She had faint memories of being tossed about by laughing boys. Her brothers.

Sherman. Tanner. Were they real? Had they ever been real?

Sterling Morgenwraithe was Arienna’s father—the result of loveless, drunken rape. Magdalena refused to think about that truth—ever.

Arienna had been everything to her. And she was gone.

The reminders of Arienna’s youth and innocence took Magdalena’s breath away. She cried herself to sleep on the bed—the bed that also held the scent of rose water.

Magdalena was startled awake by pounding on the door. She wiped her eyes and opened the door to find two very agitated men.

Sterling and Raynard.

“We would like a word, My Lady,” Sterling sneered.

Magdalena stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her.

“There are two more murdered guards outside of your door. That makes a total of four—”

“Murdered?” Magdalena exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

“Two more of my men,” Raynard fought to keep his composure. “Members of the King’s Guard—defenders of the realm—”

“You know nothing about this?” Sterling fumed.

Magdalena glared at him.

“I will not dignify that with a response.”

“One of them had his skull crushed,” Sterling said. He watched the sorceress for her reaction.

“His blood stains the steel that covers your walls. The other guard was ravaged—ripped apart—as if by a mad beast!”

“The dragon was here!” Magdalena shouted. “Why did you lie to me?”

“It was not the work of the dragon,” Raynard said. ”The man’s neck was torn open—but not by anything of that size. The dragon’s jaws would have taken the man’s head, if not half of his body.”

“Then we have yet another dangerous beast to deal with,” Magdalena said.

“What beast could overcome two guards wearing armor and carrying steel?” Raynard asked.

“And what beast bashes a man’s head against a wall?” Sterling asked.

“Perhaps your time would be better spent finding this beast, instead of interrupting my rest with yet another interrogation,” Magdalena said. “This…this…beast was at my front door!  Need I remind you that—?”

“No!” Sterling spat. “You will remain protected. We will continue to use the kingdom’s resources to keep you alive—as we have for over twelve years!”

Sterling looked at Raynard and motioned with a nod of his head. Raynard turned and walked away.

“I will have the forest searched for this mysterious beast,” Sterling said. “But I can assure you—we will all be able to rest easier. And soon.”

Magdalena narrowed her eyes.

“Why do you say that?”

Raynard turned the corner of the long hallway.

Magdalena’s jaw dropped. Her eyes opened wide.

Behind Raynard, walked the biggest man she had ever seen. He was so tall that he stooped to clear the ceiling. He was covered head to foot in a robe of brilliant blue.

Magdalena trembled. She had heard tales of the sparkling blue cloaks worn by a cult of powerful wizards from far across the sea.

This cannot be…

 The man stopped in front of her and Sterling. His hands were clasped together inside of his billowing sleeves. He pulled his hands apart. He wore jeweled rings on each of his huge fingers. The wizard pulled the hood off of his head.

His skin was pale—almost translucent. He had no sign of hair, on his head or his face. His eyes were the color of a frozen lake.

Around his neck, he wore a string of teeth.

Very large teeth.

Dragons’ teeth.

 Sterling enjoyed the look on Magdalena’s face.

“Lady Magdalena,” Sterling said. “May I present Lord Dathien—”

“My name is Dathien,” the giant said. His deep, booming voice echoed off of the walls.

“I require no meaningless title among your people. We do not recognize your means of rank.”

“As you wish, Dathien,” Sterling smiled. “After all, your legend, and your considerable skills, speak far more than any title! Dathien is the world’s greatest Dragonslayer! He has bested many of the beasts—!”

“Twenty!” Dathien boomed. He fingered the teeth that hung around his neck.

“But never one that resulted from a curse!” he said.

Dathien stared into space. His eyes appeared to gloss over.

“A dragon that speaks! That will beg and plead for its life!”

“This may prove to be my greatest achievement!”

He touched each of his rings with tender admiration. He smiled—a horrible smile.

“Along with the promise of jewels, of course.”

 “Fresh teeth for your neck and another ring for each gifted finger!” Sterling said. “The coffers of the Kingdom are far from full, but it is a small price to pay to rid the good people of Morgenwraithe of such a troublesome pest!”

 Dathien held out his hand toward Magdalena’s door.

“There is magic here,” he said. “Crude, amateurish magic, to be certain. But effective.”

Dathien closed his eyes.

“There is a spell on this room…a spell to ensure that the room may not be altered in any way.”

Magdalena became angry.

“Ah, yes,” Sterling said. “The room holds great sentimental value for My Lady.”

“Sentiment and magic make weak partners,” Dathien said.

“Unlike magic and the love of jewels and trinkets, I presume,” Magdalena said.

“Ha, ha, haaaa!” Dathien’s humorless laugh shook the walls.

He lifted a single finger and pointed it at Magdalena’s door. The door exploded, raining down splinters of wood and pieces of iron. Dathien turned and walked away.

Magdalena held her hands over her mouth. Sterling turned to Raynard.

“Get some men up here to replace the door.”
 

Six

Jaclyn thumped the seamstress on the top of her head.

“Ow!” the girl said. And then she giggled.

“It isn’t funny,” Jaclyn said, but there was no venom in her voice. “It is a baby, Lucinda. Fashion and style will have to give way to comfort in the coming months.”

‘I apologize, My Queen. I have never altered a queen’s dress to accommodate a child.”

“I can believe it,” Jaclyn said.

The girl looked hurt.

“Come now, Lucinda,” Jaclyn said. “I am only teasing. I know you were taught that there is no beauty without torture. But this little one is pushing around my insides without your help.”

King Lucien threw open the door and stormed into the parlor. He wore his full battle garb, but he had yet to leave the castle. Lucien appeared out of breath and clenched his hands into fists. He made an obvious attempt to control his emotions.

“Is something wrong, Lucien?” Jaclyn asked.

Lucien stared at the floor.

“I need a word.”

Lucinda needed to hear nothing more. She jumped to her feet and ran from the room.

“Do you know anything about this? What Sterling has done?” Lucien asked.

The baby in Jaclyn’s belly made a sudden move. She put her hand over her mouth. The sensation passed.

“I do not know anything! What has Sterling done?”

“What Sterling has done, is put us all in great danger!” Lucien spat. He began to pace.

“He has brought a wizard to our shores—from a distant land full of…a land of freaks! A man so big that he makes Raynard look like a child!”

Jaclyn interrupted.

“But why—?”

“The giant stands ten feet tall!” Lucien exclaimed. “Not a hair on his head—even over his eyes! And his eyes are like no other mortal creature I have ever seen. At this instant, he lights candles in my throne room—and chants to whatever dark gods he serves!”
“This does not sound like Lord Sterling at all,” Jaclyn said.

She stepped closer to Lucien. “Is Sterling protected, Lucien? Is it a certainty that his position of Regent affords him protection from the curse?”

“It is a spell,” Lucien snapped. “A spell of protection. Not a curse! Do you ever think before you speak?”

“Forgive me, your Grace,” Jaclyn said.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It is just that…” his voice trailed away.

Jaclyn took his hand.

“What troubles you, my king? You should have someone you can talk to. You can talk to me.”

Lucien squeezed her hand for a moment, and then he pulled away. He stepped in front of the window and stared out of it. Jaclyn heard him sniff.

“Two more years,” Lucien said quietly. “Two more long years I remain under Sterling’s thumb. And then what happens? I do not believe that he will be content to step aside and leave the rule of the Kingdom in my hands.”

Lucien lowered his voice.

“He has held onto the reins of power for twelve years. He lives for it. It is his meat, and his water. He lusts after it—knowing that every soul in the realm is his for the taking.”

Lucien turned and looked at Jaclyn. His eyes were wet.

“My uncle cursed my soul on the day you and I met. I will never be allowed to serve as King—as long as Sterling lives.”

Jaclyn wept silently. The baby inside of her moved. Jaclyn held her hands over her stomach.

“Why has Sterling brought this strange wizard among us?” Jaclyn asked. “He has stripped the Kingdom of almost all wizards and sorcerers. The old ones have all died. How can Sterling trust—?”

“Sterling trusts no one,” Lucien said. “He has promised this…this thing—a bounty of riches. The wizard will carry out his task and take his reward back to his homeland; or Sterling will have him killed.”

“What task?” Jaclyn asked.

“He is here to kill my brother.”