Chapter 12
812 Words
He frowned over his empty bowl and did not speak.
“I need the dragon’s help,” I pleaded with the golden-haired man. “I need to help the brethren of Uyan Taesil. You cannot even imagine what horrors are being wrought upon them,” I reached across the table and touched his hand. He did not pull away but seemed to freeze under my touch. “Please, Aurien.”
“I fought against Phimion, Clareath’s ancestor,” he said quietly, his eyes on our hands. “I know very well the horrors that you speak of. It took many years and several species of brethren being brought to the verge of extinction, the dragons included, to get the Fae Court to take action. A handful of castle servants will not move them to mercy, Liera.”
“I have to at least get to the Fae Court and try,” I persisted. “I cannot just… pretend it’s not happening.”
“Wash the dishes,” he turned his hand very slowly until his fingers curled around my hand. “And sweep the floor. Then resume sorting the treasure, and you may stay another night.”
“Thank you,” I said with gratitude, and rose to begin the work. He remained at the table and watched me as I washed the dishes. When I moved to sweeping, he moved to his favourite throne, but the book remained on his lap, unopened, as he brooded, his elbow on the armrest and his chin upon his fist.
“A good-witch sent you here,” he said to me as I sat beside the hoard to resume sorting.
“Well, the Seers did as well, in a roundabout way, I guess,” I considered. “They said to take tarragon to the Fae Court, to claim the riven sword. I thought they meant to take tarragon as an offering, but tarragon can mean...”
“Dragon,” he finished for me. “In Fae. The herb is actually named after the Fae word, not the reverse.”
“Yes, though I didn’t know that until the good-witch told me,” I looked up at him and smiled. “Though, apparently, it normally means little dragon and from the indication of this cavern, this dragon is not little.”
“The Elvish word for golden is lyt etel,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “Seers,” he added with a tone of disgust. “They all seem to hold aspirations to be word smiths. What else did they say?”
“They said,” I closed my eyes to recall the words. I could envision the Seer’s lips, red against the white of her skin, her eyes, nose, forehead, and hair hidden beneath an elaborate headdress and mask, and the clink of the chain that bound her to place as she spoke the words that has seemed so obscure at the time but were growing more familiar due to repetition. “A king to none and queen to all. The sacrificial lamb with a dragon’s heart must learn to roar to win the war. The binding between mankind and brethren lies with a brethren heir to mankind’s kingdom. And, of course, that I should take tarragon to the Fae Court, to claim the riven sword.”
His frown deepened. “Do you intend to take the crown from your brother?”
I stared at him in surprise. “No. No,” I was appalled at the very thought and sought to correct any misimpression that I might have given that I wanted to harm my brother in order to rule. “My brother is… There are many years between us. My mother lost many children, between his birth and mine. He was a man grown by the time I was born, as a result. We have never been close. But he is a good man, a noble man. I want to help him, not make an enemy of him.”
He leaned back against the throne and tilted his head. “He could be dead.”
I swallowed and my hands stilled, gold and gemstones held suspended, the weight of them heavy in my palms. “Yes, I know.”
If Mathhian was dead, I had little choice - leave Clareath as Queen and hope they had conceived a child despite his illness or challenge her for the crown and somehow rally support behind me to do so. It was possibly this last that motivated Clareath to send the soldiers in pursuit of me. Whilst I remained alive, I was a threat to her reign, and to the reign of any child she might carry.
“I hope Mathhian lives,” I decided. “I hope that I can save him.”
“Hmm,” he returned to his book.
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