The Dragon’s Treasure (2 page)

“Hello, Mother,” Isabelle said softly. “I saw Caden before I came here. He seems the same unfortunately, despite all that has been done for him. He’s six years old today. He has your eyes and smile. I think he’s going to be so handsome when he grows up. He should be old enough to learn how to ride soon. The same pony Father taught Andrew and I to ride on still lives on in the stables. He’s quite old now, but I’m sure Caden won’t mind. Your white mare is still there as well. I visit them sometimes, but I must admit that Andrew is far more the horseman than I’ll ever be. I believe he goes out with that hawk of his almost every day to hunt something. Usually he does bring back some small animals, too.”

She took a breath and continued. “Caden thinks he’s wrong to go hunting when we have plenty to eat and so many in the city do not. But Andrew is stubborn and arrogant as I’m sure you well remember. He will be king someday, though I hope to be well away from him and married by the time that happens. Perhaps I am wrong to speak of my older brother in such a harsh tone, but I generally believe he deserves it. And the man sitting on father’s throne in his absence is just as bad if not worse than Andrew at times. I know he’s my brother’s uncle, but the man is horrible more often than not. I’m just glad he can’t disband the council and take full control of the city or else all of Nuer would already be in ruins. But if he’s the only model that Andrew has right now for how to act as a king I greatly fear for these poor people. The man should serve the people and be guided by their needs and wishes, not by his own selfish motives that only serve to cause more pain and suffering among our people. You taught me as much, Mother.”

“Still mouthing off to your dead mother, eh?”

Isabelle shot to her feet and spun around, her eyes narrowing on the already drunk man. “You have no business here. Leave now,” she growled.

“My sister’s buried here, you spoiled brat,” he spat back.

Isabelle nodded. “She is, but she’s not on this side of the graveyard. She’s along the east wall or did you forget that somewhere in the bottom of that bottle?”

“You stupid little girl! Don’t you know who I am?” the man raged.

“You’re the man who currently warms my father’s throne with his overstuffed ass!” she yelled back. “You are a coward and an impostor. The only reason I want Andrew to take the throne is because when he does you’ll never be allowed back in Nuer for the rest of your miserable life, you pathetic excuse for a man!”

“Isabelle, that’s enough!”

At the sound of her brother’s voice, she fell silent. Andrew was not the king and had no control over her, but she did respect him enough to hold her tongue most of the time.

“Good girl, you should listen to your brother more often. He at least knows his place,” the man sneered as he began to walk off in the direction of the front gate. Isabelle didn’t look at him as he staggered away.

Her brother’s heavy footsteps sounded loud in her ears as he came up behind her. “What were you thinking attacking him, Bella? He could have your head for such a thing.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, her long brown hair falling over her eyes. “The council would never allow it.”

Isabelle felt her brother’s hand come up to her lower back and froze. Though his actions were gentle and meant only to comfort her, his touch always made her wary.

“You need to be more careful around him,” he gently cautioned, ignoring her reaction.

“I know. Can you honestly tell me though that you like him being on the throne? That you think he’s a good ruler?”

“That matters little to me right now,” Andrew replied.

Her eyes narrowed at him. “How can you say such a thing? This is your home, too, Andrew.”

“And he is my uncle and our king. The council has to decide whether or not he is a fit king, not us. If they decide that he is not able to properly rule this land, then they will take the throne from him and I will become king. You know how this works, Bella, we’ve had this conversation before when he first came to us. Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember, but that doesn’t change my feelings. Anyone would be a better ruler than him,” she growled.

“Even your stubborn, arrogant brother?” he gently teased.

She blushed faintly and forced a small smile. “That was a private conversation between my mother and I.”

“I understand, I was having one with my mother, too, when he came to find me. Come, let’s go back before it gets to be much later,” he said as he gently began to lead her away from her mother’s grave.

“One more moment please,” she quickly replied as she pulled herself away from him. He nodded and she sank to her knees in the soft ground.

“I miss you very much, Mother. I promise, as always, to look after Caden and to take care of him as I have since his birth. When he is better I will tell him of you and make sure that he knows what a wonderful woman you were. Rest peacefully, Mother, and thank you for watching out for all of us,” Isabelle said gently. She wiped a few tears from her cheeks and kissed the cold stone of her mother’s name. She brushed her fingers over a few of the pale yellow roses before picking a small one. The stem broke off easily in her fingers. She met Andrew’s gaze and he helped her up with an outstretched hand.

“Will your mother mind that you picked one of her roses? I’ve never seen you do that before,” he asked as they began walking back toward the palace.

“You usually aren’t out here when I am,” she replied. “The rose is for Caden. I think she’d like for him to see her flowers, too. I bring him one every year.”

“I believe you’re right. Your mother would want him to have one. She did love her flowers. And she loved you very much, Bella.”

Isabelle smiled and nodded as more tears spilled over her cheeks. “She loved you, too, Andrew. You were not her son by birth, but she did not love you any less because of it.”

“Thank you, for saying that. My mother, well, I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about her and…” his voice trailed off as he faced the familiar struggle of how to speak of the woman he was supposed to love, but couldn’t bring himself to.

Isabelle put a hand gently on his arm. “I understand, Andrew. You don’t have to say anything about it to me.”

“Thank you, Bella,” he said as he patted her hand.

Isabelle awoke slowly and, with a slight groan, disentangled herself from the sheets that had tried to strangle her in the night. For a moment she was disoriented in the plain room, so unlike her lavish bedroom a few doors down the hall. But the sight of the warm body beside her quickly brought her back to the present and reminded her of just why it was that she had spent the night wrapped around him. She again took up the same position she had adopted throughout the night and for many nights previous, pressing her body against her brother’s small back, molding herself into place behind his small frame.

Isabelle took this chance, one of the rare opportunities she was allowed, to see him in such a natural, vulnerable state. Her younger brother, the child she had raised since birth, with his large emerald eyes and mess of brown hair, was the perfect copy of their father’s good looks. Certainly their mother helped to smooth out the harsh lines of their father’s features, adding her own sort of roundness that was just shy of chubbiness on him, but there was no mistaking the boy’s parentage. Instead of admiring his looks and thinking of the handsome man her brother would one day become, Isabelle looked intently at his pale skin, noticing the subtle changes that had appeared overnight.

To say that her brother was not well would have been a gross understatement to be rewarded with nothing but contempt and loathing. Ill since birth, the sickness that had started off as nothing but a cough and a bit of a fever had ravaged the boy’s body, leaving a frail five year old in its wake. How something had ravaged his young body so quickly was too much to contemplate. Too weak to move or stand without assistance, Caden now relied on his sister for even the smallest of tasks.

Soon though, she would come of age and no longer be able to care for him as she had been. She wondered if there was a husband somewhere, a lord perhaps, that would allow her to bring her brother with her to his home. She sighed miserably into the boy’s protruding shoulder blades. Probably not.

It was at this moment when her contemplations couldn’t seem to possibly get any worse when her older brother Andrew decided to make his appearance. Without bothering to knock, he swept into the room. “The boy is old enough to sleep by himself, Bella. You should not be here,” he scolded.

She pressed herself tighter against the boy’s small frame and glared angrily up at him at him.

“Don’t give me that look, girl. You are not the spoiled child any longer and so will not be endured as one.”

Sitting up swiftly, her eyes narrowed on her brother. “If I am no longer a child, Andrew, do not call me
girl
. And my name has never, and will never be Bella,” she challenged back.

He merely rolled his eyes at her and cast another scornful look at their brother. Or rather, his half-brother since he and they had different mothers. It was something he never let her forget. “How is he today?” His voice softened slightly, but it was still not enough to shift her attention from the glare she had fixed him with.

“No better, no worse,” she answered quickly.

“I don’t like this, Bella. You should not be so attached to him. No good will come of this,” he said gently but in a voice that allowed no argument.

“And what would you have me do, oh brother dearest? What in your twenty-four years of infinite wisdom would you ask of me? Do you wish me to move on? Forget him? Let him die and hope that he finds peace in that?”

Isabelle bit back the tears, forcefully shaking her head to rid herself of those thoughts. She would not think on this today or any other day. Her brother would get better.

“Yes,” Andrew admitted quietly. He pressed on, despite the building anger and resentment in her eyes. “He is beyond hope, Isabelle. The last healer, the one that has been with our family for countless numbers of years, finally left today out of sadness and frustration. Surely with all of the healers that have seen him, all the sorceresses that have spoken over him, all of the wizards that I paid sufficient sums of money to, you can see that by now? Every one of them, every last one, has come up with the same conclusion. Whatever this illness is that Caden has, we have learned very few things since discovering that he was sick shortly after birth. It has been years since he was born and we are no closer to finding out what this illness is, much less a way to cure it. I think it is safe to say that there is nothing we can do for him anymore. I am sorry,” he finished softly.

She continued to glare at him, though her eyes were growing wetter by the moment. “We can get more people to see him, I’m sure more will come. There is always hope,” she said quietly.

He sighed and shook his head, gently trying to convince her of a fact he was so sure of. “There is no one else to ask, Isabelle. Please learn to accept this. Don’t make this harder on yourself than necessary.”

“I’m sure there are other people to ask! You haven’t asked everyone yet have you?” she shot back at him. She spared a glance for the silent body under her trembling palm. Caden became more comfortable in the bed, but had not yet woken. It was a miracle really, considering how loud they were being.

“There is no one left to ask. The faster you accept this the happier you’ll be.”

Isabelle searched her mind frantically for an answer, something, anything that would give her hope and make her brother see the truth of Caden’s condition. “What about the mountain people? You know that they are powerful, Andrew! They could help us! I’m sure they could! The healer said that they have cures for almost everything. I know that they could help him! All we’d have to do is ask. Please let me ask them, Andrew. Please?” was her impassioned plea.

His eyes grew wide at this and his thin lips turned into an uncharacteristic sneer. “Murderers and rapists, the whole lot of them. You would trust him to those types? Do you care so little for him that you cannot let him die in peace with what little dignity he has left?”

Isabelle chose her words carefully, biting them out between labored breaths. “If there was a chance…If they could fix him…”

“There is no chance, Isabelle! No one can fix him! The boy’s already half dead as it is! Let him finish it!” Andrew yelled as he gripped her arms and shook her.

“Get. Out.”

He blinked quickly, his arms falling limply to his sides.

“What?”

Her eyes remained intent on him, rage boiling just below the surface. “Get. Out. Now. I don’t want to see you again.”

“But…”

“I said get out.”

Her brother wisely shut his mouth and quickly left the room. Only once the door was closed did she let out her inhaled breath.

Isabelle curled up against her brother, holding him tightly to her as she wrapped her arms around him. Warm tears began to flow down her cheeks in silent rivers to slide over the boy’s pale forehead. Within moments though, her body had relaxed along with his, her tears ebbing to mere sniffles, as a restless sleep welcomed her into its grasp.

It was a rash decision to leave, which Isabelle knew as she hurried through the palace. Her pace was brisk, but not fast enough to alarm the few guards that she passed. They would just assume she had gone out for a late night stroll. Only Andrew would question her at this hour and thankfully she had heard the sound of his loud snores as she passed by his bedroom on her way out of the palace.

Isabelle stepped out into the night, the drizzling rain chilling her to the bone as she pulled her cloak tighter around her shivering body. She had changed her clothes, opting instead for a loose tunic over an old pair of Andrew’s pants. Her long brown hair was tied back and knotted low at the base of her neck. Her transformation into a young man for the night had been completed with the addition of her brother’s short sword, taken from his room earlier that evening. He hadn’t touched it since they were children so she doubted that he would miss it. Though she had some experience with it as well as other weapons she knew that if a fight tried to find her on this night the blade would be for little more than show. Her nerves were wound far too tightly from worry over her brother for the clear, calculated thinking that a duel would require. She would be dead before her body hit the rain soaked mud beneath her feet.