Mistress of Dragons (37 page)

He
disobeyed. He allowed the boat to sail away. He did not follow it, nor did he
watch to see where it went. He let it glide into the darkness and disappear.

He
would be in trouble over this. He’d bungled it, he admitted that. What was the
worst Anora could do? Take his “humanity” away from him? Draconas growled deep
in his throat. She could have it.

Draconas
sought to find any hint that Grald was still lurking about. He detected nothing
of him. Grald had not made away with the prize, but he’d done what he set out
to do. Draconas was sure of that.

Which
left only Edward. Draconas floated down through the darkness. He did not doubt
that Edward was dead. He would retrieve the body, take it back to Ermintrude.
He’d have to concoct some story, of course, but that would be easy. He would tell
the tale of how Edward had fought the dragon that had plagued his kingdom, how
he’d gone up against the beast and how, though mortally wounded, he’d slain it.

Ermintrude
would grieve, but she would be proud. Her sons would grow up idolizing their
father. Edward would probably be canonized a saint, like that other supposed
dragon-slayer. Not the best outcome, but not the worst, either.

Draconas
landed on the beach. He let go of the dragon form with a sigh, felt it drift
out of him as the soul drifts out of the body upon death, leaving only heavy,
lifeless flesh and bone. It would take him time to once more adjust to his
human body, to get used to feeling cramped, confined, and earth-bound. He took
a few tottering steps and nearly fell over Edward.

The
king lay facedown on the beach, his hand over the hilt of his sword as if he’d
made a desperate effort to retrieve it. Draconas couldn’t understand how he
could have missed seeing him, except that he’d been preoccupied with watching
Bellona and Melisande.

“It
only goes to show what happens when you let yourself get involved,” he
muttered.

Draconas
rolled the king over onto his back, to make certain he was dead.

Edward
groaned and opened one eye. The other was swollen shut. His face was a mess of
blood and crushed bone.

“Melisande?”
he whispered.

Draconas
shook his head.

Edward
made a moaning sound. His eyes closed. He fell back, unconscious.

Draconas
smiled, relieved to have found the king alive, though he knew he shouldn’t be.
Edward dead was a saint.

Edward
alive seriously complicated matters. The devil take it. They’d sort this out
together.

Draconas
bloodied himself up, concocted his own story, then tended to the wounded king.

Draconas
built a roaring fire to warm him. Building a fire was risky, for there was the
possibility that Grald was still about, but Draconas guessed that Grald would
not linger in this location. He would not chance a second meeting.

Despite
Draconas’s healing ministrations, Edward spent a restless night. He gabbled and
writhed in his sleep, muttering to himself and once woke with a wild cry,
staring at Draconas with terror-filled eyes. Draconas soothed him. Edward
looked about in dream-drugged bewilderment, then sank back down into his
tormented sleep. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Draconas was
gratified to see Edward relax and sink into deep and restful sleep.

Edward
woke around noontime. He stared around blearily, then memory returned.
Thrusting aside Draconas’s restraining hand, he staggered to his feet. “Melisande!
Where is she? I have to find her!”

“You’re
in no shape to find anyone,” Draconas admonished. “Besides, she’s gone.”

Edward
blanched. “Not... not dead ...”

Draconas
shook his head. “She’s alive and safe. I’ll tell you what happened, if you’ll
sit down. I spent the night saving your life and I don’t want all my effort to
go to waste.”

“She’s
not dead,” Edward repeated. “You’re not just saying that. I saw ... I saw blood
...”

“She’s
not dead. The warrior woman followed us. She found Melisande and took her away
in her boat.”

Edward
stared, appalled.
“She
took her! The one who shot arrows at her! We have
to go after them. She’ll kill her!”

“No,
she won’t,” said Draconas. “Are you going to sit down?”

Edward
hesitated, staring out at the sun-dappled river that had taken her away.
Dejectedly, he slumped back down.

“So
this warrior found her. Why are you so sure she won’t kill her?”

“Because
she saved her life. Grald—”

“Grald!”
Edward was perplexed. “That brute we saw in the dragon’s cave? The one who
stole the babies? What does he have to do with this?”

“Don’t
you remember?”

“I
don’t remember anything,” Edward said bitterly. “I heard footsteps crashing
through the trees. I thought it was you and ...” He paused, grimacing, trying
to think. He winced with the pain. “Nothing. The next thing I knew, I woke up
to darkness and burning pain in my head. I called out to Melisande, but she
didn’t answer.”

“Grald
attacked you,” said Draconas. “He meant to kill you. You’re lucky he didn’t.”

“Melisande
. . . You said she wasn’t dead. Did Grald? Oh, God, did he . . .” Edward couldn’t
say the words.

“I
don’t know,” Draconas said somberly. “I think so.”

“But
how did he find her? How did he know about her? Unless the dragon told him ...”

Draconas
nodded sagely. “That’s my guess.”

“Oh,
God!” Edward cried. He clasped his head in his hands. “I knew something
terrible had happened to her. I found her chemise torn and stained with blood
... I knew then ... I guessed.”

He
lifted his face, tear-streaked yet hard-set, resolved. “Grald. It was him? You
are certain?”

“I
saw him. He came out of the forest carrying Melisande in his arms. The warrior
woman attacked him. He dropped Melisande and took to his heels.”

“What
were you doing all this time?” Edward demanded angrily. “Enjoying the show?”

“I
was shoving the broken ends of bone back under the skin,” Draconas returned,
raising his arm, which he’d wrapped in a crude sling. “And vomiting up river
water. I ran into Grald myself.”

“How
did you run into Grald?”

“He
set a trap for me in that cavern and I walked right into it, witless as a
newborn babe.”

“Melisande
said the place had a bad feel about it,” Edward said softly.

“I
should have listened to her,” said Draconas.

Edward
eyed him. “I have a lot of questions. At least I think I do. My head hurts so,
it’s hard to think. How did he find us?”

“We
were careless,” said Draconas bluntly. “We built a fire last night, left the
boat in plain sight, for anyone to see, not to mention blankets strewn about
the beach. Once he found our camp, he had only to follow our trail.”

Edward
frowned, puzzled this through. “But if he was after her, why set a trap for
you?”

“It
wasn’t for me,” Draconas said. “It was for her, for Melisande. He hoped to lure
her into the cavern. He didn’t expect me and he was not pleased to see me, I
can tell you.” Draconas grimaced. “When he thought he’d taken care of me, he
came looking for her.”

Edward
mulled this over. “That makes sense,” he admitted. He cast Draconas a glance,
gave a rueful smile. “I’m sorry I suspected you.”

He
was silent long moments, his face drawn with pain. “Did Melisande go with that
warrior woman willingly?” he asked, not looking at Draconas.

“She
went willingly.”

Edward
started to say something, then closed his lips on the words. He stared bleakly
at the river.

“She
thought you were dead, Edward,” Draconas said in answer to that unspoken,
heartbroken question. “She told Bellona how you fought Grald in her defense.
Melisande honors you for that.”

“I
pray I meet that Grald someday,” said Edward. “I pray for that, too,” Draconas
agreed. “And I’m not a praying man.”

The
two were silent; Edward gazing at the river, Draconas waiting for what must
come next.

“I
don’t know what got into me,” Edward said at last. “I should have never touched
her. She was so beautiful and the sun was so warm and it seemed that there were
only the two of us in a world that had been made with us in mind ...”

“You
are human,” said Draconas.

Edward
sighed. Resting his arms on his knees, he let his head slump forward. “Meaning
I’m weak.”

“No,”
said Draconas. “Meaning that she was beautiful and the sun was warm and there
were only the two of you in the world.”

Edward
lifted his head, smiled wanly. “Well, no matter. It’s over and done with and
she is gone and I have failed. I have failed everyone who ever trusted in me. I
failed Melisande. I failed my people—that cursed dragon will still be there
when I return. I failed my wife. Poor Ermintrude. How can I ever look at her
again?”

Draconas
could have answered that Edward had not failed on at least one score. He would
return home to find that the evil dragon was no longer a threat. Draconas wasn’t
supposed to know that, though, and so he kept silent. There was nothing he
could say to comfort the king. He waited for what was to come and in the next
moment, it came.

“There’s
one person I won’t fail,” Edward said.

“Let
it go, Edward,” Draconas told him.

“You
don’t know what I mean—”

“Yes,
I do. Let it go. It won’t help either of you. It will just cause more
sorrow—for you and for her.”

Edward
slowly shook his head. “No, I can’t let it go. If she is with child, then the
child is mine and I must—”

“The
child might not be yours,” said Draconas brutally. “Not if Grald—”

Edward
rose unsteadily to his feet. Fists clenched, hazel eyes ablaze, he stared down
at Draconas.

“Do
you think that matters to me? If you truly believe that I am the type of man
who would take my pleasure and abandon her, then I will meet you on the field
of honor to settle this any way you want.”

“No,
I don’t think you’re that kind of man,” Draconas said, adding inwardly, I wish
you were.

Edward
wavered, but he remained standing.

“You
have to find her. You’re the only one I can send. The only one she would trust.
I don’t want anything from her. You can assure her of that. If she is with
child, I want to take care of her and the baby. That’s all. Whatever I can do
for them. Will you find her and tell her that, Draconas?”

You
should have died, Draconas said to him silently. The time will come when you’re
going to wish you had. But if you’re willing to accept your responsibility in
this, then I guess I’m willing to accept mine.

“I’ll
do what I can,” said Draconas, adding in warning tones, “but it won’t be easy.”

On
you, or any of us.

THE
RIVER BORE EDWARD HOME TO HIS WIFE, HIS kingdom, and a hero’s lauding. He was
bewildered and perplexed by this, but it appeared that the dragon had not been
sighted in a fortnight and the people gave their king the credit for driving
off the beast. Edward tried to protest that he’d had nothing to do with it,
but, as Gunderson told him, the people needed a hero and it was right and
proper that they look for that in their ruler.

So
Edward kept silent and received graciously the accolades he knew in his heart
he had not earned, no matter what Gunderson might tell him to the contrary.
Edward talked little about his adventures, much to the bitter disappointment of
his young sons, who wanted to hear all the gruesome details— how the dragon had
roared when their father had cut off its head and how much blood there had
been. Edward told them gently that he did not want to speak of it and their
mother told them sharply to leave their father alone.

This
his sons did, mainly because their father had developed a disconcerting habit
of hugging them close every time he saw them. They bore this as long as they
could, then Wilhelm took his father aside one day to tell him that the stable
boys were snickering at him, calling him “a baby” and would his father please
be less demonstrative of his affection in public.

Edward,
smiling fondly, promised he would and was true to his word, settling after that
for a manly clap on the back.

Edward
told the truth of what had happened only to Gunderson, who listened in
wondering amazement. He said little, but he pressed his king’s hand with deep
affection and pitied him from the depths of his heart. He agreed that Edward
had done the right thing in asking Draconas to seek out the woman.

Edward
did not tell Ermintrude the truth. He had been going to, prepared to unburden
himself, but Gunderson earnestly counseled otherwise. Was it right to inflict
pain on his wife, just to relieve his own guilty conscience? Far better to
suffer his guilt alone and in silence than to burden her. Edward saw the wisdom
of this, though his silence only added weight to the burden, for he and
Ermintrude had always agreed that there would be no secrets between them.

Ermintrude
knew something had happened to change her husband, and her wife’s heart
suspected the truth. He had sometimes been brusque with people, especially
petitioners. Now he was kinder, more understanding, listened to their problems
with exemplary patience. He abandoned his scientific studies, gave away his
astrolabe and his books and star charts, filled his office with texts on
kingship and statecraft, on law and governing. He laughed less frequently, and
she often caught him standing at the window, staring out at the river with a
sad and wistful expression.

He
was kinder to her, much more gentle and tender. Though he avoided her bed, he
would oftentimes hold her close, seeming to need her arms around him, and it
was in these moments that she felt very much that he wanted to tell her what
had happened to cast a shadow over his life, but that he could not bring
himself to do so, for fear it would hurt her.