Dragon Thief (25 page)

I left Lucille in the lair to sleep off her injuries, and as I descended the cliff face she began snoring. I had nearly reached the ground when I realized that she had gotten her revenge on me. I was the one left to tell her father what had just happened.

I wondered if there were any new diplomatic missions to faraway lands that needed a royal accompaniment.

Waiting below were six armored figures and seven horses. I walked over to Krys.

“You stole the Tear of Nâtlac?”

“Frank?” she asked.

“What do you think?”

Around me I heard a couple of the other girls giggling. Before I could say anything, Krys turned to them and said, “Stop that!”

“Why?” I asked.

She turned to me, looking sheepish. “You know why.”

“But you didn't use it.”

“I couldn't in the middle of the fighting. And, after, I had time to think about it. You were right.”

“I'm glad my bad example is good for something.”

Mary walked over and squeezed Krys's shoulder. “That, and She wouldn't like us using that thing.”

“Who wouldn't?” I asked. “Lucille?”

“Come on, Princess Frank,” Grace said, “Let's get you back to your castle.”

 • • • 

I still felt disoriented from finding myself back in the princess's body, so I passively noticed things about my handmaid's escort without really paying much attention. They had all kept the hairstyle that they'd received at the Temple of Lysea, albeit without the flower garland. In Grace's case, she had replaced the garland with a brass circlet with an engraved floral pattern.

They also, for the first time, wore armor that seemed designed to fit them. The leather seemed of better quality than Lendowyn could typically afford, and was embossed with more of the winding floral motif. And they all seemed to have adopted a badge; every one of them had a red cloth embroidered with a single white rose.

I remember thinking that it wasn't a bad idea for their group to have their own heraldic mark if they were serving in a royal court, but the flower motif seemed at odds with what I knew about them. A dagger cleaving a human skull seemed more their speed.

Lendowyn Castle was in better shape than I had left it. Workers had cleared most of the wreckage of the battle, and people worked on repairing the section of the castle where I had fallen. Apparently more had remained in the treasury than I had thought.

Grace escorted me inside, leaving the others to take care of the horses. “Your chambers weren't damaged in the battle,” she said.

“I guess we should count our blessings,” I whispered to myself, my head still spinning, wondering how so much could happen and still leave me in the same place we started.

Grace touched my hand, and said without a trace of irony, “Yes, Your Highness, we should.”

I stopped short. “After everything, do we need the ‘Highness'? I get enough of that from Sir Forsythe.”

“I never thanked you.”

“You don't have to.”

“Like hell I don't!” she snapped.

I couldn't help smiling. “With that ‘Highness' I thought we might have lost you.”

“Forgive me for trying to do my job.”

“That doesn't have to mean acting like someone else.”

She sighed. “What about stealth and a low profile? If your handmaids are on a first-name basis with you in public, that's sort of noticeable.”

“You have a point.”

“Of course I do.” We stopped in front of the door to my chambers. “But I'm serious. Those girls are my family, and I've always been afraid that I'd lose them like the one I was born with—”

I know.

“We wouldn't have lasted the winter. You gave us a home.”

“Sorry it was so rough getting here.”

“But we got here,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

She bowed her head in recognition and said, “I'll leave you now, Your Highness. You have a visitor in your chambers.”

I reached for the door handle, and then I turned to ask, “Visitor?”

Grace had gone.

What the . . .

Who visits the princess in her private chambers?

I opened the door and my eyes widened.

“Finally! Princess Frank.”

Sitting cross-legged on a couch across from the door was the Goddess Lysea. She wore the same sheer gown that she'd worn in my vision, but out of direct sunlight it wasn't nearly as translucent. She wore a garland of flowers that filled the room with scents that didn't belong in the middle of winter.

“You?” I said.

“Me,” she said. “Close the door, it's drafty in here.”

I did as instructed, a little clumsily since I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Amazingly, the more opaque her gown was, the more it emphasized her figure.

“I'm here to thank you.”

“Surprising number of people doing that lately.” She laughed, and it was like someone taking a feather and running it up the princess's legs. “You already thanked me for the story.”

“Oh.” She waved her hand. “Not that.”

“What, then?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Come on, you not only re-consecrate my temple with your amazing offering, but you stood down tall, dark, and gruesome on my behalf.”

“That was on
my
behalf.”

“That is, as my unpleasant sibling said, a ‘technicality.' And that's not all. Thanks to you, I've discovered how fun it is to have a warrior order.”

“I'm happy you—wait, what?”

She stood and stretched, and I was briefly thankful I was no longer male, as the sight would have been painful as well as arousing. “Everyone has them, you know. Some group of acolytes that take up the sword on their deity's behalf. That was never my style. I mean an armed poet? Warrior painters? But those girls you brought me? I
love
them! Should have done this aeons ago.”

“You're . . . welcome.”

“So, Frank Blackthorne, I've brought you a gift in thanks.”

Oh crap.
I immediately thought of the last gift that some deity had left in my chambers. Whatever it was, I couldn't possibly see it going well. “No, that isn't necessary.”

“Oh, Frank, you're not going to refuse me this kindness? I would be soooo disappointed.”

The slight shadow that crossed her face was enough to nearly make me wet myself. “No!” I held up my hands. “Not that. I just didn't want you to trouble yourself on my account.”

She smiled. “I'm a goddess, Frank, and this was no trouble at all.”

“Oh.”

“This will be so much fun!” She walked up to me and bent over to kiss me on the lips. I think the contact with her must have made me black out momentarily, because when I opened my eyes, she was gone.

I blinked a couple of times.
Gift? What gift?

Maybe she forgot?

The hope was short-lived when I heard someone yawn. I spun around and saw a naked woman in my bed, half covered in a sheet, stretching. Her eyes met mine and a smile crossed her lips.

“Mistress. What do you wish of me?”

“E-Evelyn,” I stammered. “You're all right.”

I'm pretty sure the Goddess's heart was in the right place, but staring at the intact serving wench from The Three-Legged Boar filled me less with relief and more with a gnawing existential panic. Everything had spun around full circle, and I was seeing a whole host of roads before me that I didn't want to ride down again.

I backed to the door and opened it again.

“Mistress?”

I held up a hand and said, “Hold that thought.”

I called down the corridor, “Grace, get back here!”

“Mistress. What's the matter?” She sat on the edge of the bed, her seductive smile replaced by confusion.

I saw the fantasy crack behind her eyes and I felt a wave of guilt, along with the impulse to tell her some sort of comforting story to reassure her and get her out of my bedroom. I thanked all the deities I had yet to anger that I hadn't imbibed any alcohol that would have encouraged me along any further bad life choices. Instead of a comforting lie, I steeled myself and told her the truth.

“I'm sorry, I really am. This was always a bad idea. I turned to you out of frustration, and it was unfair to you and my wi—husband.”

“But the Goddess . . .”

“I have a bad habit of disappointing major deities lately.”

She bit her lower lip and stared at the floor. “I see,” she whispered.

“I can't do this.”

“Because I'm just a common—”

“No!”
I snapped.

She looked up at me with shiny eyes.

“It's not you. It was never you, or where you came from. It's just . . .” I sighed and sat down next to her and hugged her shoulders in what I hoped was a sisterly manner. “I make bad decisions, and they hurt people I care about. I'm trying to stop doing that.”

“I was a bad decision?”

Damn it!
“Trying a clandestine affair in my situation, my complicated
married
situation, was a bad decision. I just tried to make you an accomplice.”

She looked away from me and sniffed.

“You have every right to be angry at me.”

“I do,” she whispered. She stood up, dragging the bed sheets after her, covering herself. “I am.”

“Good.”

“What is the matter with you?” She spun around, knocking me stumbling off the bed as the sheets yanked from beneath me. “You drag me across a kingdom so a dragon can call me a whore? You defend me to that monster and disappear? Do you have any idea what I went through after that, after you played seductress, hero, and then abandon me?”

“I'm sorry,” I said as I got to my feet.

“I didn't know whether to worship you or burn you in effigy.”

“I—”

“And then you send a goddess to fetch me just so you can say ‘bad decision'?”

“That wasn't my idea.”

“You're damn right this was a bad decision! After everything—”

To my relief the door to my chambers opened and Grace stepped in. “Your Highness?”

Took you long enough.
“Grace, this is Evelyn. Evelyn, Grace.”

“What?”

“You're still my guest,” I said. “You need a room, a meal—”

“And some clothes,” Grace added helpfully.

She looked from me to Grace and all the emotion seemed to leak out of her. “Y-yes.”

I asked Grace, “How long were you listening?”

“Your Highness? I just arrived.” Her grin told another story. At least someone found this all amusing.

“Grace will take care of you.” I gave my chief retainer a stern look. “She'll get you everything you need.”

Evelyn nodded wordlessly and walked toward the door, providing me a completely unnecessary view of her uncovered backside. As drafty as it was for her, I felt the room become unaccountably warmer.

She looked over her shoulder as Grace took her arm. “Do you love him?”

“Him?” I asked.

“Your dragon.”

“Uh—”

Grace had enough mercy on me to lead Evelyn out of my chambers before I stammered something embarrassing.

Do I love him?
Pronoun confusion, the bane of my existence.

Do I love
her?

I had just kicked a willing lover out of my bed to avoid hurting Lucille. Did that make any objective sense at all? It's not as if my prince was going to warm my bedchambers anytime soon—which was a good thing as that phrase had a wholly different connotation when dragons were involved.

But I didn't want to hurt Lucille any more than I already had.

I threw myself down on my now-sheetless bed.

Do I love her?

“Good question,” I whispered.