He felt some shame at lamenting his fate; now wasn’t the time, and certainly not the place. Turning to the newly widowed man who didn’t even seem to see him, he said, “You’ll be excused from your duties indefinitely, and paid your current worth.”
The man was now solely responsible for the tiny dragonling getting washed and blessed, and it wouldn’t do to let him worry about feeding it.
Eventually, the mages recited the spells, the nurses washed the body and ushered everyone out of the room. Rhey then left the hospital, his ill-humor trailing behind him like plumes of thunder-clouds. He took refuge, as he always did when trouble darkened his doors, atop the endless mountains of shimmering gold that lay beneath the castle.
Xandrie could have headed home, but the prospect wasn’t exactly appealing.
Right at this moment, her family were entertaining some important lah-de-dahs. Most of them would have bored her pants off, and one in particular made her skin crawl every time his name was brought up. Darsen, widely touted as a fearsome and noble warrior, was the bane of her existence, and reason number one - out of five thousand or so - not to attend the feast. If she could manage it, she always high-tailed it out of there when he was due to visit.
Her parents thrust them together at every turn and it was clear to anyone that they wanted to marry her off to him by her next birthday. Her mother had recently taken to telling anyone who’d listen that, “Alexandria has seen her twenty-fifth year,” which made her a spinster, adding to all her faults. Dearest Mother wanted the matter remedied, and Darsen was the victim she’d chosen to foist her on.
Perfect plan; Xandrie may even have agreed to it, in order to get away from home, if the man hadn’t been a major creep, leering at her when no one was there to see his disgusting display. His whole vibe made her stomach churn and the thought of him laying hands on her filled her with a rage so deep she was almost blinded by it.
So, nope. She wasn’t going home.
“I’d rather be swallowed whole by a marauding dragon than let Darsen take me,” she muttered to herself.
Not that they ever saw dragons in these parts but, it remained true, she’d rather have had her bones crushed in the slobbering maw of a fire-breather than have that foul-breathed oaf on her skin. Talia and Aleria were welcome to all the fine food and fine clothes and adulation of their peers, if the cost was being seated at the table with a man like him.
Xandrie threaded her way through the trees. She had no need of the trodden path. She would know her way through these woods if she were blindfolded. Her silent steps stopped and her head snapped left. Without having to think, she pulled an arrow from her quiver and primed her bow. She closed her eyes, thanked the rabbit in her sights, and let loose the arrow. It hit its mark, as it always did.
Useless runt or not, she’d been trained – in archery, sword-play, and hand-to-hand combat – by the best. Xandrie’s eyes narrowed and she had to force back the anger and confusion. Her brother Damion had been gone for almost three years, but the pain of his parting was as fresh as the blood that dripped from the newly-departed rabbit. She might have moved on sooner if she’d had some sort of closure, but no body had been brought forward.
Damion had never looked at her, nor treated her, differently when it was confirmed that she had no magics to speak of. Neither had he shown any favors to their younger sister, Talia, who had the power of a dozen mages, or even the eldest of the litter, Aleria, who, in addition to her craft, had been blessed with dazzling beauty - golden hair, and all that.
Xandrie slung the rabbit over her shoulder and marched on, refusing to think on it any further. She rounded a clutch of ancient oaks and entered a clearing. There was no one there at first but she made her presence known by speaking sweet nothings, and after a few seconds, a white tiger cub – larger than the dogs who trailed after her in town, but not yet as large as a deer – trotted from the corner where he’d stayed hidden.
The cub, she could imagine, had been abandoned by his Mother when he’d sustained an injury. Xandrie had found him a few weeks back, and taken it upon herself to care for him. She changed the bandage on his paw every other day and treated his wounds with a solution her gifted sister had compounded. Talia had been good enough to prepare a salve just for her, when she’d secretly explained her purpose, and it’d certainly sped Claws’ healing along. The swelling had all-but disappeared and the gash that she’d been afraid might get infected was pink, clean and reeked of health.
After she was done with the bandages, she took a knife from her belt and expertly severed the rabbit’s back leg, then presented the remaining rabbit to her charge. “Only the best for you. Fresh from the forest. Best you eat it and not chow down on me…” Xandrie didn’t believe Claws would raise either tooth or claw against her, but they played their parts and she told herself it gave him solace to be reminded of his wild nature.
She gathered sticks and kindling and made a fire. The rabbit’s leg she’d saved for herself roasted to perfection and she polished her meal off in minutes, before laying back on the ground, her head on Claws’ side, contemplating another life. Could she do it? Live in the wild, bathe in the streams, sleep under the stars, hunt game and eat berries? She thought about the two Elf princes she’d met earlier; they’d done it for years, relinquishing the mighty walls and beautiful grand halls of their respective kingdoms in favor of makeshift camping grounds.
But she was no Elf; she was just a human woman used to having a roof over her head.
Claws rolled and purred, his thick, soft fur an invitation to sleep. Xandrie closed her eyes and slipped into an easy deep slumber, the kind reserved for the innocent and the wild creatures. She dreamt of the thrill of the chase, the glory of the hunt, and the unending pleasure of doing as she pleased, when she pleased. She would neither bend the knee nor kiss the ring and she would never – never, never, never – marry Darsen.
Yes. Yes, she could - and would - run away.
Flight
The reports weren’t favorable - they never were. In the ten years since the former king had left, entrusting the reins of his kingdom to his only son, Rhey didn’t think he’d ever heard happy news from the Elders.
“What do you mean, the Northern shield is gone?”
It didn’t make any sense; their Kingdom was protected by wards older than any dragon alive - old magic made of pure, untainted Aether. If these things could be undone, no one had ever told him how.
“Just that sire,” Nathos, his chief advisor, reported gloomily.
The ancient Elder never was very animated, but today he had cause for it.
“The Duke of Norda reports that quite suddenly, and without any warning, the barrier has been lifted. He’s waiting at the door to enlighten us all.”