The Dragon (Creasan #2)

Peronell sat at Thea’s bedside with his head in his hands. He was sure Thea was going to be fine; she just needed a moment to recover. But when she awoke and realized that her mother was…

Peronell’s mind ground to a halt at the thought. Maerwynn had been like a mother to all of them. A respected leader, skilled warrior, and kind woman. Peronell had known her since he’d joined The Source. It was impossible not to grow close to her, even more impossible not to care for her.

And now she was gone.

The success of their last journey had tricked the group into a feeling of security, of indestructibility. Yes, what they were doing was dangerous, but they had survived The Forbidden Mountain. If they could find Aestus, nothing could touch them.

Except now Maerwynn’s body was being eaten by blood-sucking insects.

Peronell wiped a tear from his cheek. He would miss Maerwynn. They all would. But Thea…Thea was going to be destroyed. Her entire family, murdered by the Lance family.

Queen Ana sat in a chair behind Peronell, a book in her hand. The sound of her turning the page was like nails on glass, and he whirled around on her. “What are you doing in here?” he demanded.

“Waiting for her to wake up,” she answered. Her eyes didn’t move from the page.

“Why? Wouldn’t you be of more use on deck?”

“You may not enjoy my presence —“

“I don’t.”

She glanced up at him over the top of the book. Peronell would be lying if he said he wasn’t struck by the resolve he found in her eyes. She said, “I am the reason we didn’t all follow Maerwynn’s fate.”

“What do you want, a medal?” Peronell sneered. “Get out.”

With controlled calm, Ana folded her book shut and rested it softly on her lap. Then she clasped her hands together and placed them on top of the cover. “I spoke with Maerwynn a few days ago,” she told him. “And I made her a promise.”

“Bullshit,” Peronell spat. “Maerwynn didn’t need anything from you.”

“I know it is difficult for a man to comprehend,” she said, her voice remaining as perfectly relaxed as the rest of her, “so I shall put this in terms you will understand. Suppose you were a soldier. And suppose you met another soldier which you despised, as you despise me.” She smiled, like something about this was slightly humorous. “Every day, you argue with him, you fight with him, compete with him. Every day, you wish him dead. Until you are sent out to battle. Suddenly, you are brothers-in-arms, prepared to fight for one another to defeat your enemies. All petty differences and hard feelings are practically forgotten because in that moment, you need one another.”

Peronell stared blankly at her. He wouldn’t voice his confusion and prove her right in his ignorance, but he was utterly baffled by her story all the same. Was she trying to suggest that the Queen of Creasan was Peronell’s brother-in-arms?

Ana’s eyes shifted away from him, taking on a far away look. “She should have asked you or Merek or Fendrel, but she didn’t. She asked me to make sure nothing ever happened to her daughter because I am the only other mother on this ship. She may not have been incredibly fond of me, but she knew I was the only one who would understand the severity of her words. And I did.” She met Peronell’s eyes. “I do.”

Peronell longed to open his mouth and shoot her down, tell her she must have been mistaken, that Maerwynn would never have chosen her as her daughter’s protector. But one look at her brown eyes and he could see such resonate sadness there, such a deep comprehension of despair and loss. One Peronell had seen in his own mirror many times since the death of his parents.

Ana swallowed hard. When she next spoke, her words came out as a whisper. “When she awakes, her world will have splintered and shattered in front of her. No child should have to watch a parent die, and she has seen both her parents’ dead bodies. I will be here because she will need me here.” She looked him dead in the eye with a coldness, a harshness, setting her jaw and dimming her gaze. “So I say again, if you do not enjoy my presence, Peronell Haris, then you can get the bloody hell out of this room, because I am not moving from this seat until that girl’s eyes open.” Though fire shone in her angry face, a tear rolled down her cheek.

Anything Peronell was going to say died before he ever finished constructing the thought in his head. He turned back to Thea whose cheeks had started to regain some of their color. Was it not Peronell who had said Thea would be destroyed by her mother’s death? He had no way of knowing if Ana was telling the truth…but he had no way of knowing she wasn’t. And the way she was looking at him seemed to convey an honesty Peronell had rarely seen. He wondered what it must be like to know her husband had murdered her child. He wondered what sort of pain lived inside of her.

Peronell crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, allowing the silence to stretch out between them.

Ana followed his lead. She wiped the tear from her cheek and opened her book again.

After about three slow breaths from Thea, Peronell spoke again. “Under other circumstances,” he said, and Ana glanced up again, “I think Maerwynn would have liked you.” He met her gaze with a small sad smile.

She chuckled quietly and returned his smile with her own. The tears hadn’t entirely receded from her eyes, but she turned back to her book.

Peronell studied her. If Maerwynn had trusted her enough to look after Thea, she must have seen something in this woman they had all been trained to hate. Perhaps he ought to do what he’d done since he’d known Maerwynn and trust her instincts.

Merek stared out at the water as it gently rolled from side to side in the expansive cave. The ship meandered calmly through it; it almost seemed relaxing. Except Maerwynn had just been drained by cave bugs, Thea was lying unconscious from loss of blood due to said cave bugs, and Isolde was comatose as her blood melded with a snake’s. Nothing about this was even remotely relaxing.

Brom stepped up beside Merek and rested his hand on his shoulder. He let out a deep sigh, filled with mutual hurt and resignation. “How are you?” Brom asked.

“Well, since I’m still alive and conscious, I’d say I’m bloody fantastic.”

Brom snorted and leaned his forearms on the banister. “Relatively low bar you’ve set for yourself.”

Merek cracked a smile. He glanced at the Guard out of the corner of his eye. Over the course of their journey to The Forbidden Mountain, Merek had spent a lot of time alongside Brom, yet he was just realizing he didn’t know much about him. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling, couldn’t tell if he needed comfort as much as the rest of them or if he was doing just fine. “What about you?” Merek asked.

“I didn’t really know her,” he answered, gazing out at the sea.

Merek studied him. He thought he saw more wrinkles around Brom’s lips and eyes than there’d been before. Wrinkles of age and exhaustion. Merek glanced away, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt. He murmured, “I should have been there.”

“You couldn’t have saved her.”

“You don’t know—“

“Yes, I do.” Brom turned his head to meet Merek’s eyes. “The youth always think they have control over everything. If you had just been there, you could have made it through a cave of creatures that would have fed off of you in time to save the woman which a horde of them were already draining?” Brom shook his head. “You might be strong, Merek, but you’re not a magician. Maerwynn was dead by the time we got there. There was nothing any of us could have done.”

Merek stared at the Guard as he took that in. Though the grief he felt didn’t lessen, the band that had been squeezing his lungs did loosen a bit. He hmphed in mild surprise. “A bit blunt there, mate. But thank you.”

Brom’s mouth turned up at the corner. “And as for your other concern, both women are going to be just fine.”

Merek sighed and slumped back against the banister. “I wish Izzy was awake to tell us that for certain. I don’t know how she does it, but it’s like all she has to do is touch a person to know how to heal them. I might not be a magician, but she comes pretty close.”

Brom laughed.

Merek frowned and stood up. “What?”

He shook his head with amusement. “Another thing I’ve discovered about the youth—they always make things more complicated than they need to be.”

“Mate, what are you —“

“I met my wife when I was sixteen,” Brom started, glancing up at Merek with laughter still clear in his face. “She was a year younger and going with another chap. Her parents thought the wedding between them was imminent, and so did I. But all the same, I talked to her, laughed with her, fell in love with her. Convinced myself I was content to be her friend, if that’s what she wanted. She told me she’d push the wedding off as long as she could. Not the marrying kind, she always said.” He grinned at the memory. “One day, she was talking to me about the other chap and I just couldn’t take it anymore. So I did something…truly mad.”

Merek’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

Brom’s grin stretched. “I told her the truth.”

Merek blinked.

“Been married about fifteen years now. And got two daughters.”

Merek’s expression darkened and he turned to rest his forearms on the banister, fixing his eyes on the water. “Already tried that, mate. She chose Janshai. And I respect her decision.”

“Very admirable. But stupid.”

“Excuse —“

“When she wakes up, do her a favor and pay more attention.” Brom straightened and gave Merek a slap on the back. “She didn’t choose Janshai.” Then he turned and walked away.

Merek stared after Brom, dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure if the Guard had simply hoped to distract Merek from the pain of losing Maerwynn by confusing the bloody hell out of him, but if that had been the goal, he’d succeeded. He stood there, blinking out at the ocean, the fire from the lantern flickering behind him and bathing him in a warm glow of utter befuddlement.

Thea blinked her eyes open to near total darkness. She was lying in her bed, that much was obvious, and the rocking beneath her reminded her she was aboard a ship. A single candle rested on the table beside her and offered very little light by which to see.

Between one twitch of the flame and the next, events came rushing back to her at a speed so overwhelming, Thea felt the breath sucked right out of her.

Her mother held in the middle of that swarm. Led there by the image of Lief. That smile still on her face as Thea was dragged away.

Lief. Papa. Mama. All dead.

She had no one left.

Thea wanted to keel over and sob until she threw up. She wanted an outlet for the dilapidating weight of emotion crashing down on her, suffocating her. At the same time she had no breath, she felt as if she were inflating with an overwhelming feeling of despair and misery. She thought she would explode at any moment.

But tears would not come. Her eyes were so dry, they itched. It was like her body had entirely shut down. All she could do was lie on her side and stare. Because what was there left to do?

“Aestus,” someone gasped sharply, but Thea didn’t have the energy to focus her gaze or turn her eyes to see who it was. Luckily, Fendrel crouched into her line of vision, so close that it felt like his stormy blue eyes took up her whole world. He said, “You scared me.”

Thea said nothing.

Fendrel turned his head. “Ana,” he called much too loudly for how close he was to Thea’s ears, “she’s awake.”

Clothes rustled and then the queen appeared above Fendrel. Questions spilled out of her like she wasn’t sure what needed to be asked first so she’d ask them at the same time. “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? Water? Are you hungry? Do you need more blankets?”

“Slow down, Ana,” Fendrel said, not taking his eyes from Thea.

The queen nodded and took a breath. “I am so sorry, Thea. Truly I am. If you need anything at all, even just to talk —“

Thea’s words were barely a whisper when she pleaded, “Stop.”

Ana nodded again and stepped back.

Fendrel was still so close to Thea, studying the emptiness in her eyes. “Ana? Would you give us a moment?”

“I’m not leaving.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. His voice bled with earnestness as he said, “Please.”

They two exchanged a look, one in which they seemed to communicate the way only two people who have known each other for decades can. One often forgot about their history as family through Favian, but here was proof of it. Ana relented with a nod and left.

Fendrel turned back to Thea. “Right. Get up.”

She didn’t react.

He stood up and gestured for her to follow. “Thea, get up.”

She just blinked straight ahead, not having the energy to tell him to bugger off.

“Come on. We’re going to fight.”

That made Thea snort in spite of herself. “I’m not fighting you.”

“Yes, you are.” Fendrel crouched down beside her bed, putting their noses within inches apart. “I’m the one who dragged you out of there. I’m the one that made you leave her behind. I know you want to hit me.” He pointed to his cheek. “Go on. It’ll make you feel better.”

A tear trickled down Thea’s cheek. Her voice was tiny as she whispered, “No, it won’t.”

Fendrel’s shoulders drooped and he gazed sadly at her. “Thea…I’m so sorry.”

Thea should have screamed at him, condemned him for making her leave Maerwynn when she needed her most. She should remove the blame that rested on her shoulders and drop it on him. It’s what she’d done with Lief’s death. And it had helped to have a face to blame.

But this…this was different. This was no one’s fault but Thea’s. She should have known Lief hadn’t managed to escape the king. She should have known not to let her mother follow him. She should have known that leaving the ship was a dangerous idea. But she hadn’t, and now her mother was dead.

So she simply told the prince, “Don’t be.”

Fendrel sighed. Thea imagined that he’d learned what to expect when she was irate, learned what to say or how to act. At the very least, he was used to it. Thea wondered what he must be thinking to see her so…weak, so soft, lying motionless in a cot.

“Well,” he said, “I’m not leaving.”

Thea noticed a calmness in his blue eyes that she hadn’t noticed since he’d confessed to wanting to be king. It made the ache inside of her throb more profoundly. She didn’t want Fendrel to be trying to calm her down; she wanted her mother. “I just want to be alone,” she mumbled, turning and giving him her back.

Fendrel didn’t say anything for a moment. And then he stood, and Thea breathed in relief. She didn’t know how she would shatter in the utter loneliness this world had become without her mother, and she did not want an audience for it.

But then the prince did something that entirely stunned her. He climbed onto the bed behind her and looped his arm around her waist.

“What are you doing?” Thea demanded.

“What I wish someone had done for me when my father died.” He tightened his arm around her and hugged her close. Thea could feel the warmth of his body through the blankets. He pressed his nose into her hair and let out a deep breath.

His chest rose and fell rhythmically behind her and his heart beat steadily against her back. It was a sweet gesture, one of sincere understanding and genuine care, and it made something shatter inside of her.

Thea Wyvern, leader of The Source and Lief’s successor, didn’t cry, but Maerwynn’s daughter did.

She didn’t face him—she couldn’t see his expression as she fell apart—but she clutched his hand where it rested against her stomach, and let the tears flow in earnest. Fendrel didn’t make a single sound as she did. He simply held her, sharing the weight of grief, and allowed her to drop the persona of strong ruler that had become a second skin. She cried hard enough to make the bed shake and her insides tremble, and she didn’t stop.

Janshai had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the map. He was the sole navigator now, and the thought made his heart ache. He felt like he had grown much closer to Maerwynn since this expedition had begun. They had been the only two who knew how to sail through the Leitham or how to make their way to Qamizeh, but if Janshai was being honest, Maerwynn knew much more than him. His knowledge of seafaring was limited to his memories of survival after his exile. He knew how to work a ship, but finding their way through the expansive sea had been Maerwynn’s expertise. Now it was up to him, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt, he wouldn’t be as good as her. He just prayed he could get them there without losing anyone else.

“Can I give you a hand with that?”

Janshai turned to see Merek approaching him. He was gesturing to the steering wheel. Janshai smiled and nodded. “Please.”

Merek took over. In the calm waters, there wasn’t much for him to do, which allowed Janshai to focus on the map.

They were in Dúdach Cave, that much they knew. If they could make it out to the other side, it should be an easy three day’s sail the rest of the way. If they hadn’t strayed down any wrong paths, that was.

“How is it looking, captain?” Merek asked.

Janshai blinked and glanced over at him. He wasn’t entirely certain how he was meant to behave around the man. Perhaps Janshai ought to play the part of a jealous fiancée - but he wasn’t jealous. Not in the least. He wanted Isolde and Merek to be happy, and he knew they would be together. But he couldn’t very well tell Merek that. “Uh…” Janshai began as he did his best to erase his guilt from his mind. “I’m not entirely sure. I think…I hope we’re heading toward the exit of the cave. If my map reading skills are correct, we should be about here.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “But I’m not as skilled as Maerwynn…”

Merek bowed his head in understanding. “I’m sure she taught you a thing or two. You’ll lead us out.”

Janshai nodded, though he wasn’t wholly convinced.

An awkward silence stretched out between them as he studied the map again. Janshai wished he knew what to say to make it dissipate, but Merek beat him to it.

“Listen, mate,” he started, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead while he steered, “I…I wanted to apologize.”

That took Janshai by surprise. “Apologize? For what?”

“Just the way I’ve handled the whole situation.”

“What situation?”

“Bloody hell, man, you’re going to make me say it.” Merek’s laugh was strained.

“Sorry, I don’t - I don’t really understand why you would have anything to -“

“Your Isolde’s fiancée. You should be the one by her side when she wakes up. I know that. I just…care about her a lot.” He dropped his head and coughed awkwardly.

Janshai was hit with another pang of guilt. The man honestly had nothing to apologize for. It was Janshai who had stolen and practically forced himself into Isolde’s life. But he simply put his hand on Merek’s shoulder and smiled sadly. “I know.”

“You know?”

“You two were nearly inseparable even before the journey to Aestus. I know you care for her, as she does for you.”

Merek met Janshai’s eyes with confusion. He shook his head and said, “Right, but what I’m trying - Brom said I should tell you that I -“

“Mate,” Janshai cut him off as he watched him struggle, “let’s just wait for her to wake up. Yeah?”

“I’m wanted to be honest -“

“She’ll need it much more than me. But thank you.” Janshai smiled again. “I think I’m going to try to get a few hours of sleep before sunrise. Do you think you’ll be all right steering?”

Merek blinked hard and Janshai felt sympathy bubble up inside him. Poor bloke, he thought. Janshai’s attempts at staying loyal to Isolde had probably given him whiplash. Merek said, “I - uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Great. Wake me if you need anything.” Then Janshai scurried out of there before he said something suspicious. Dear Aestus, he hoped Isolde would wake up soon.

Merek stared blankly in front of him. He had never done anything like that before - and he truly still hadn’t. Janshai had cut him off before the words had come out.

Merek caught sight of Brom just before he headed down for the night as well. “Oi, mate!” he called. Brom glanced up questioningly. “You give shit advice.”

Brom grinned. “That means you’ve done it wrong.” He chuckled to himself and disappeared below deck.

Merek grumbled nonsensically to himself. This is what he got for trying to do the chivalrous thing. Now he’d embarrassed himself and probably made an enemy of Janshai. The silver lining? At least it had distracted him momentarily from the loss of Maerwynn. Now alone again, he was left to his grief. Probably for the best as he felt tears already pricking his eyes.

Ana watched Fendrel and Thea from the doorway. The two of them had fallen asleep on Thea’s bed, and a dark feeling spread through the queen. She knew what this was, she knew how Thea Wyvern would see it.

Fendrel Lance, the only person who had stayed by Thea’s side in her darkest hour. The only person who had known what to give her when she didn’t even know what she needed. The gratitude Thea would feel, the newfound loyalty that would spring up inside her.

Favian had been that for Ana for a short while in the beginning of their marriage. And so had Althalos’ father, and Ulric. But Ana knew what happened when one allowed oneself to rely on anyone other than oneself - they were wrenched from one’s very arms.

Unless they were a Lance. If they were a Lance, they were the ones to wrench everything away.

Even as Fendrel curled himself protectively around Thea, he was a Lance, through and through. And Ana would face the fangs of Malum himself before she allowed Thea to be played the same fool the queen had been her entire life.