Bane of the Dragon King Page 2

  Slavandria opened a door on their left, and they entered a large room swathed in so much unrestrained opulence it was almost sinful. Refracted sunlight broke through the arched, stain-glass windows and shattered across the blood-red carpet, casting shards of prismatic brilliance at Charlotte’s feet. Two large wood desks in the rear of the room stood at angles toward a seating area in the center dotted with plush chairs dressed in decadent, vibrant brocades. Charlotte turned around, taking in the enormous oil paintings, the gold candelabras, the books, and fresco ceiling. It was so gaudy, yet beautiful.

  Safe and serene. Calm.

  A door opened at the back of the room and King Gildore and Queen Mysterie entered, their fingers entwined. Both appeared battered and worn. The queen’s hair was mussed, her eyes red and swollen. A shadow of a beard grew on the king’s drawn and weathered face. His hair was also mussed, and neither looked as if they’d slept in months.

  Slavandria greeted them with a hug. They spoke for a moment, their whispers as clear to Charlotte as if they were standing beside her. She glanced at David who was thumbing through a book, oblivious to the murmured conversation. She wanted to turn it off, tune it out, even more so at the sound of Eric’s name slipping from Mysterie’s lips. The tremble in the queen’s voice rippled through Charlotte, an aftershock from a major earthquake. She choked back her own raw emotion, wiping her moist palms on her breeches.

  She didn’t want to think of Eric—the way he smiled, his cockiness, the way he flirted with her to annoy David, and the way she teased back for the same reason. She loved him for all the things he was and could have been. And now he would be none of them. If only she could go home. If only things could go back to the way they were.

  Charlotte searched out David’s hand and weaved her fingers with his. She sighed, relieved to find flesh, not sparks or emptied brains.

  David glanced down and squeezed her hand.

  She squeezed back.

  The door at the rear of the room opened again, and Lily stepped inside, along with a dark-haired man, dressed in black and red, a sword strapped to his hip. Charlotte’s breath took flight from her lungs. “That’s the guy from the boat in Chalisdawn,” she murmured. “Mangus what’s-his-name. What’s he doing here?”

  David sucked on his bottom lip as Slavandria and the general of the mage army embraced. “I have an idea, but I don’t think either of us is going to like it. Let’s sit down.”

  They were joined moments later by the others; Mysterie and Gildore sat across from David, while Slavandria and Mangus took their seats across from Charlotte. Lily remained standing, pacing. She finally stopped and brought her clasped hands to her mouth as if trying to find the right words.

  She looked at all of them, her gaze shifting from face to face.

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet me here. I know the past few days have been extremely difficult. We lost a lot of good men on the battlefield, many of whom were far too young to die. One of them, Eric, changed our lives forever in ways we can’t even fathom.”

  Charlotte hung her head and closed her eyes.

  “His passing has left us numb, and Trog is inconsolable,” Lily continued. “He has asked to be left alone for a few days more. He needs that time to grieve with and for his son. As for the reasons you are here today, some information, secrets if you will, have come to light in the past few days, and Slavandria and I believe it is time you knew the truth. We, I, need to right some horrible wrongs, and I hope you can forgive me.”

  Charlotte shifted in her chair, a sliver of dread playing hopscotch with her heart.

  Lily stood behind Slavandria and clasped the hand her sister offered over her shoulder. She glanced at the floor before continuing.

  “I have a confession to make to you, Mangus, and I don’t know how else to say what I need to without being forthright, so here goes.” Lily walked around the chair and sat on the small short table facing Mangus.

  “I did something terrible to you, to both you and Slavandria. You know how much I adore you and would never hurt you intentionally, but I had to do it, and I hope you can forgive me.” She paused for a moment, took a few deep breaths, and continued. “Not long after the two of you wed, Slavandria accompanied Mysterie on a journey. Do you remember that?”

  Mangus nodded. “Yes. They were on an expedition to find the best higher-level learning centers throughout Estaria if I remember correctly.”

  Slavandria stared at the floor.

  Lily nodded. “That was the story we gave to you, but that’s not what happened. Slavandria accompanied Mysterie on quite a different journey, one that our beloved queen will not remember until I release the memory to her in a few moments.”

  Mysterie and Gildore shared a look of confusion. “Auruvalla, I do believe you need to explain,” the queen said. “I distinctly remember traveling to many universities with Slavandria and speaking to many chancellors, professors, and architects.”

  “I know,” Lily said. “I put those memories there.” She faced the queen and king. “The truth of it is, Mysterie, you were with child. To protect you and your unborn child, you had to go away.”

  All color drained from the queen’s face. “What? Are you mad? I’ve never been with child, and even if I had been, what in the world would you need to protect me from?”

  “Seyekrad,” Gildore said. He leaned forward and spoke toward the table. “Not long after Gwyndolyn was murdered, I met with the sorcerer. Einar was stalking Hirth, sending his foot soldiers into remote places, killing our people, and swearing revenge upon the man who killed his son. We never knew when the attacks were coming. I was desperate for protection.”

  Mysterie touched his knee. “I remember.” Her fingers moved to his face and brushed the hair from his temples.

  “Seyekrad approached me with a deal: he would protect the kingdom forever, provided no heir to the throne existed in Fallhollow. Upon my natural death, he would assume the throne and maintain the kingdom as it was.”

  Charlotte’s pulse raced, not believing what she was hearing. The king sold out to a madman?

  Mysterie rose quietly to her feet and walked to a window. How could she stay so composed?

  Gildore looked at his wife. “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t know what to do. Slavandria and Auruvalla were gone, and no one knew how to reach them. I was desperate. Even though Trog had abdicated the throne, he feared what Seyekrad’s magic would do if he discovered Eric. To protect his son, he gave him to the farrier.”

  “I know Eric’s story, but how could you discuss this matter with Trog and not me?” Mysterie asked. “How could you sign away the kingdom without my knowledge? What if I were still alive when you died? Where would I go once Seyekrad and his minions took root in my home?”

  A chill traveled through Charlotte at the queen’s icy tone.

  “You were grieving, Mysty,” he said, rising and walking over to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. She flinched but allowed them to remain. “Please forgive me. I was afraid for you, the kingdom. I was desperate, and a decision had to be made. A few weeks later, Slavandria returned. She and I conversed, and she convinced me to send you away until the chaos died down. She felt it would do you good to get away from Hirth, to occupy your time with something you wanted to do.” He turned her to face him and cupped her face in his hands. “I would have slit my own throat to protect you, to hide you. To comfort you. I didn’t know you were with child. I swear it.”

  “You should have trusted me,” Mysterie said.

  Gildore nodded. “Yes, I should have, and on my honor, I will never keep another secret from you ever again. I swear it with all my heart and soul before everyone in this room.”

  “I will hold you to that oath,” Mysterie said. “As for being pregnant …” She stepped around Gildore and approached Lily. “When you’re ready, I’d like to hear the rest of your story.”

  Lily closed her eyes for a moment, her perfectly manicured fingers wea
ving in and out of each other. One glance at David and Charlotte revealed a lifetime of hidden, unspoken torment. Clouds of gray threatened her eyes, a dam of secrets ready to burst. A flood waited to crest its banks, but she inhaled a deep breath, lowered her face toward the floor, and swept away the threatening storm. Straightening her back, she held her head high and continued.

  “Please forgive me. I’ve held this in for so long.” Her voice quaked. “It was on your trip with Slavandria when you told her your good news. You were pregnant and couldn’t wait to tell Gildore. Slavandria came to me with news of your pregnancy, and while we were both ecstatic for you, we knew that Seyekrad’s magic would detect an heir present in the realm. If that happened, the wards and charms that Seyekrad placed around Hirth to keep Einar and his armies away would disintegrate, and Hirth would be vulnerable and open for attack. Neither of us wanted that so we agreed to bring you to my home, far outside the realm of Fallhollow. Outside of Estaria itself. The plan was for Slavandria to bring you to Havendale and then return to Fallhollow. But on the morning of her departure, she discovered that she, too, was with child.” She flicked a glance to Mangus who appeared calm, steady, as if the words hadn’t smacked him in the gut yet.

  “When Van arrived with Mysterie in Havendale, she shared the news with me, but there was more. She’d also told our father. In all his infinite wisdom, he ensured Slavandria’s child was blessed with sovereign mage rights to royalty, a provision provided by the kings of the three realms of Fallhollow to the Mage Council upon their agreement to protect the kingdom of Hirth. He knew nothing of Mysterie’s pregnancy, and we wanted to keep it that way.

  “The babies came eight months later, and Slavandria and Mysterie had to return to Fallhollow. But Mysterie couldn’t return with her child. It was too dangerous, so I placed a spell upon her, to hide the truth until such time it was to be revealed. That time is now. Mysterie, Gildore, I present to you your son, David. Mangus, say hello to your daughter, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte

  The room fell into a silence so vast Charlotte could almost hear her fingernails creeping from their beds. She flicked a glance at David who stared straight ahead, his face vacant. Her heart cinched, the whole of it squeezed in a corset of sorrow. What a cruel joke, playing with his feelings this way. First his parents died, then they were resurrected. Now they’re the king and queen of a kingdom that by all rights shouldn’t exist? She dragged her gaze to Lily and drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. She had to stay calm, in control. For him.

  “I don’t know if I should laugh or strangle you,” she said. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s not very funny.”

  “It isn’t a joke, Charlotte,” Lily said, stepping toward her, her voice heavy with regret. “You both are what I say.”

  Hot, prickly tingles marched through Charlotte’s veins and down her forearm. She’d felt the sensation before on the battlefield when she’d summoned the storms and lightning without a thought to doing so.

  No, not again. Please not again. Not here. She took a slow, long breath and focused on the fervor advancing within. She didn’t want that pain again, the kind that consumed her in fire and ice, that controlled her every thought, her every move. Don’t let them see you struggle. Don’t shatter and break in front of them. She glanced to the windows, the door in the rear of the room. Breathe. Just breathe.

  Sparks sizzled at her fingertips. She stared at her hands, the power surging.

  Lily dropped before her and clasped Charlotte’s hands. “You are not its servant. It is yours. You have control. Will it away.”

  Charlotte yanked back her hands. “How can I when I don’t know how?” She rose to her feet, her gaze falling on Slavandria. “This is your fault. You did this to me. You touched me or hexed me or something. End it. Take it back.”

  Lily stood. “Charlotte, honey, she didn’t do anything to you. This is who you are.” She gestured to her sister and Mangus. “These are your parents.”

  Charlotte whipped around. “These are not my parents, and don’t call me ‘honey’! My parents live in Havendale, Tennessee. My mother is a school teacher, my father a retired pilot with one of the most secretive black ops units ever.” She hugged herself, arms trembling. “I was born April first and I am normal. Human.” Breathe. In. Out. Focus. “I am not a freak.”

  The sparks withdrew into her fingertips, the burning in her arms retreating to wherever it came from. She closed her eyes.

  “April first,” David said, his voice a ripple across a still pond. “April Fools’ Day.” A chuckle. “I guess the joke was on us.” He brushed his thumb across his brow, his eyes flicking from Slavandria to Lily. “How did you do it? Why did you do it? Why the big charade?”

  Slavandria stood and made her way to a cart where small, round pastries were stacked in a tower next to a porcelain teapot and cups. “You are both heirs to the throne of Hirth. Had you remained here, you would both be dead by now, and Seyekrad and Einar would rule this kingdom.”

  “Yeah, we get that,” David said, “but it doesn’t explain why you had to make up this elaborate lie. I mean, did my parents ever exist or was that all a load of crap, too?”

  Lily moved behind Gildore and Mysterie and laid her hands upon their shoulders. They looked up at her, their mouths gaping as if propped open by a thousand ensnared questions desperate to break free.

  “I was a very dear friend of your mother, Jillian,” Lily continued. “So close, many believed we were sisters. When she and Edward met at an air show, I saw their auras entwine. It was beautiful and bright, and I knew their love was true, long before they ever did. Together, they were the epitome of everything love stood for: hope, joy. Eternity.” She glanced down at Mysterie and Gildore. “They reminded me so much of the two of you.” She strolled away, her hands pressed to her stomach.

  “I found out that Jillian was pregnant a week or so before I learned of Mysterie’s condition. Of course, Jillian and Edward were thrilled, but as time passed, Jillian developed complications with her pregnancy. Then Edward died in that horrible plane crash which left her devastated. She tried to care for her unborn child, but her health continued to deteriorate. The doctors put her on full bed rest, and I became her designated nurse.

  “As Jillian’s condition became more unstable, Slavandria and I felt it best to move Mysterie to a less stressful environment, so she went to live with Arland while Slavandria remained behind to help care for Jillian.”

  “You took Mysterie to live with my grandfather?” Charlotte asked, dumbfounded. “He’s old. What could he do for her?”

  David chuckled. “No silly. Not your grandfather. Their grandfather. Aldamar, remember? He and Arland are one in the same, which actually makes the great magician your great-grandfather.” He shook his head. “It all makes sense when I think about it—the conversation between Slavandria and Lily on the battlefield, the way she touched her stomach, the way you turned all electric and went after Einar like some badass Xena Warrior Princess.”

  Charlotte sat down, her body still, her insides numb. It didn’t seem possible and yet … She sucked in a breath and lifted her chin, her eyes focused on Lily.

  “The image in the reminiscent vapor, the one of Slavandria pregnant … that was your memory we saw, wasn’t it? That was me inside her belly.”

  Lily nodded. “Yes.”

  “And you nached my mother’s body with the queen’s,” David said. He reached for Charlotte’s hand and squeezed. She squeezed back, thankful for his strength, his presence.

  Lily shot him that look, the one he’d seen a thousand times when she’d had enough of his attitude. “No, and stop assuming things. Jillian lost her baby three weeks before you were born. A little girl. No one outside the family knew. We buried her near the duck pond on the azalea mound where Jillian and Edward were married. It was a quiet ceremony.”

  David’s brow furrowed. “Young for Eternity. EPH. That’s what’s written on the stone.” />
  “Elizabeth Peyton Heiland,” Lily said. “Named after both her grandmothers.” She began to pace again, wringing her hands. “On the day you were born, Jillian became very, very ill. She was feverish and in pain but refused to see a doctor, and she refused help from Slavandria. Mysterie had returned earlier in the day and was already in labor in the observatory. I tried to get her to stay downstairs, but she wanted to see the stars as she gave birth. She said she’d feel closer to Gildore when the time came.” Lily smiled. It was soft. Nostalgic. “A few hours later, Slavandria went into labor.

  “You,” she said, looking at David, “were the first to arrive a few minutes before midnight.” Lily opened her hand and blew across her palm. A silver, glittery mist floated toward Mysterie and Gildore and settled over them.

  A tear rolled down the king’s cheek, his gaze turned upon David. Mysterie pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes red and tearing. She held tight to her husband’s hand. “It’s true,” she said, her voice trembling. “We have a son. I remember. I remember it all.”

  Lily turned to Slavandria and Mangus. “Less than ten minutes later, your daughter was born.” She blew a breath of pale silver mist to Mangus. His bottom lip quivered as Lily’s confirmation slipped over him.

  Slavandria knelt before him. “I didn’t know until a few days ago, I swear it.” She combed her fingers through the hair at his temples. “Lily hid it from me, from you, to protect her.”

  Mangus looked away, his face stoic, unrevealing, yet his thoughts …

  They hurled into Charlotte.

  Wham!

  A bullet to the brain.

  You’re my daughter? The feisty little mouthpiece in Chalisdawn? There was laughter. Unbelievable.

  She gasped, the intrusion unexpected. Something I inherited from you, I suppose. Now get out of my mind. I didn’t say you could come in!

  It was all she could do, all she could say. She sucked in a breath and waited for him to leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he met her gaze, his brow dipped, his lips slightly parted.