Dragon Spear (2 page)

I dug my heels into the stones of the courtyard. “I am not a princess, and I will not be mistress of the palace one day,” I told her as calmly as I could, shaking off her arm. “I am a dressmaker, and I am marrying the king’s
second
son. Crown Princess Isla is your official hostess, and
how did you know I
was marrying a prince anyway?
”

This last, desperate question was aimed more at my brother, Hagen, the only member of my family I had told of my impending wedding. My parents had died four years ago, and knowing my aunt’s aspirations to wealth all too well, I had instructed Hagen not to tell her anything until it was absolutely necessary. After the wedding, perhaps.

Hagen was standing back by Luka, looking sheepish. Luka was wide- eyed, as though he couldn’t believe my aunt was real.

I knew exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s not until spring, but I ordered some new clothes for the wedding already,” Hagen mumbled. “And Master Raslton, the tailor, told Mistress Lelane. . . .”

Groaning, I put a hand over my eyes. Of course my aunt knew. If Mistress Lelane knew, the entire
town
knew. The only thing left was to pray that every neighbor and former schoolmate wouldn’t show up at the wedding to help me celebrate.

“This is not the place to discuss your deceitfulness and lack of gratitude, Creelisel,” my aunt said, reasserting her grip on my elbow. “Let me help you deal with that steward, and then you will present me to your betrothed and his father. I hope that five months will be enough time to make all the arrangements for the wedding.”

I bit back the question of what exactly I was supposed to be grateful for and ignored the comment about making arrangements, since they were, fortunately, already made. “Well, I would present you to my betrothed, Aunt Reena, but you’re walking away from him.”

My aunt froze in her tracks and spun around, her face turning as purple as her gown. “Oh, my goodness, I had no idea, Your Highness . . .” She trailed off, faced with a real dilemma. Standing beside Luka, who needed a haircut and was dressed in old riding leathers, was Tobin with his shaved and tattooed head. There were also a couple of grooms nearby whose livery was cleaner than Luka’s. Which one was the prince?

I didn’t let my aunt suffer long, not wanting to be cruel despite my horror at seeing her here. I took her arm, more gently than she had taken mine, and led her over to Luka. He bowed and kissed her hand and declared himself thrilled to meet my dear aunt at last, covering his astonishment with years of diplomacy lessons. Then I introduced him to my brother and cousins, and Marta and Tobin came forward to greet everyone.

In addition to Pella and Leesel, there were six younger cousins and my long- suffering uncle, who appeared next on the steps of the palace. There was a great deal of hugging, and remarks on how tall everyone had gotten, and then I introduced Luka and my friends again. My uncle pulled me aside during the flutter to whisper in my ear.

“Sorry, Creel, but once she heard the news there was no stopping her.”

“It’s all right,” I said, giving his arm a squeeze. “Really, it’s my fault: I should have sent you proper invitations to the wedding.” I wrinkled my nose. “I, er, just wasn’t prepared for you all to arrive so . . . early.”

He hesitated. “No, it’s not that. . . . I’m sure I’ll be able to talk her out of it by the wedding.”

My feeling of alarm reached a crescendo. “Talk her out of what?”

The youngest of my cousins, who had been a babe in arms when last I saw her, raced over and grabbed the ends of my sash. “We gonna live in palace, we gonna live in palace,” she sang. “And mawwy pwinces!”

“That,” my uncle said with a grimace, “Reena is determined to, er . . .”

He was unable to finish his sentence, but I didn’t need him to. My aunt’s ultimate dream when she had left me at the dragon’s cave had been for the Lord of Carlieff’s son to rescue me and carry me off to live in their manor—along with my doting family.

I thought I might faint.

Equally dumbstruck, Luka took my arm and led the parade into the palace. As we walked through the doors I whispered to him my aunt’s plan to take up permanent residence, and he gave a small nod.

“Judging from what you’ve said about her, I suspected as much,” he said. “But don’t worry, we can work it out.”

“How?”

The answer would have to wait, though, because the steward was waiting for us. Then a footman came forward to tell us that King Caxel was waiting for Luka in the council chamber, and a maid asked if I would like to have a bath and rest before returning to my shop. Aunt Reena was pushing me from behind, hissing at me to take all the servants “in hand.”

Much to my embarrassment, I simply froze in place. I had only come to the palace in the first place because I had a gift for Princess Isla from the wife of Tobin’s clan chief. But now the thought of introducing my family to my disapproving future father-in-law pushed the gift to the back of my mind. I just wanted to run straight to my shop and hide.

I was saved by Isla herself, who came floating down the grand staircase at the far end of the hall in a pale blue gown trimmed with lace—one of my creations, of course. Her smile never faltered as she kissed Luka and me, hugged Marta and Tobin, and welcomed my aunt and uncle and their children as though it were a great honor.

“I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived,” she said. “But now please let me help you get settled. I understand that the steward has assigned you rooms and it looks like you have changed out of your traveling things. . . . Are the rooms to your liking?” She cocked her head to one side and looked at my aunt.

My jaw dropped as Aunt Reena—the woman who had no qualms about brazenly moving herself into the royal palace—blushed, h’mmmed, and was at a loss for words! My uncle put his arm around his wife, smiled at Isla, and told her that their rooms were perfect, thank you.

“In fact,” he continued easily, as his wife continued to gape and stutter in the face of a real royal, “we’re still quite tired. I think we’ll go have a nice, long rest. Keep the children out from underfoot.”

Isla smiled back. “Lovely. The dinner gong will sound in three hours’ time, and we can all get to know one another over dinner. Creel, you can use that little room next to my dressing room to bathe and change, because of course you’ll want to stay for dinner.” She waved cheerfully to the young ones as my uncle led the entire brood away.

I collapsed against Luka with a small moan.

“Steady,” he said, putting his arm at my waist to hold me up.

“Creel,” Marta said in a faint voice, “I shall never again accuse you of exaggeration.”

Tobin signed something to me, and I managed to smile. “You have no idea,” I told him.

Before First Light

S
o a dragon will really come to meet the boat?” Hagen gave my packs a wistful look. “And you’ll fly all the way to the Far Isles?”

“That’s right,” I said, distracted. I had an odd number of stockings in front of me, and could not figure out where the mate for the blue one I was holding had gone. “It’s still a long flight, days actually, but it would take months by ship.” I crawled under my bed and located the other stocking.

Hagen had been sleeping on the sofa in the workroom behind the shop for the past two weeks. He had no desire to watch our aunt swanning around the palace, her confidence restored after King Caxel’s surprisingly gracious welcome. I had asked my cousins if they wanted to stay in the shop as well, but unfortunately they had inherited my aunt’s aspirations and were eager to sleep in a palace.

It had been a rough two weeks since our return from Moralien.

I had had to convince my aunt (more than once) that I would not be a princess until I married Luka, and having the servants address me as such was inappropriate, inaccurate, and possibly illegal. Miles had kindly stepped in for me and explained that my becoming a princess through marriage did not bestow any titles or estates on my aunt or her children. He had had to prove his argument by using the law books, royal pedigree charts, and, I believe, several maps, and emerged from the palace library on Aunt Reena’s heels looking stunned.

I had invited Pella and Leesel to stand with Marta and Alle as my attendants, and measured them for their gowns. I put my foot down, however, over changing the design of the gowns to one created by my aunt, featuring far too much lace, gold bullion embroidery, and feathers for my taste. I had also put my foot down over adding crowns or gold underskirts to my cousins’ ensembles to help them attract noble suitors.

Pella and Leesel had asked about working in my shop, and I had brought them in for a few days to learn how things were done. But on the third day, Alle went out to buy fabrics and Marta and I went to personally deliver the Duchess of Mordrel’s new gown, as she was our oldest patroness and a good friend. When we returned we found that Aunt Reena had arrived, attempted to fire Alle for taking too long at the warehouse, and was in the process of approving or throwing away the gown designs in my notebook. Meanwhile, Pella and Leesel ignored the customers so that they could try on the finished gowns themselves. My younger cousins had unspooled all the ribbons in the back room and were making a giant net with them, to “catch a horrible, ugly dragon.” We had to close the shop for a day while I apologized to Alle and we cleaned up the mess, finishing by banning my aunt and cousins from the premises amid much pouting and protestations about my mean and ungrateful behavior.

But now I was packing for my journey to the Far Isles, where Luka and I would spend the next two months visiting with our dragon friends in their newfound haven. The only thing that dampened my anticipation was the look on Hagen’s face. He seemed . . . jealous.

Or so I realized as I came out from under the bed with the errant stocking in hand. I looked at my brother as he poked morosely at a stack of shifts.

“Hagen,” I said, inspiration dawning, “would you like to come with us?”

He looked up at me, his face glowing. He had grown so tall, and taken on so many responsibilities in the last few years, that it was hard to remember that he was my
younger
brother, and barely seventeen. “Could I really?”

“I don’t see why not. The dragons have all heard about you: they are very grateful that you look after Theoradus’s hoard, and I’m sure they would love to meet you.”

Although the display rooms for Theoradus’s hoard had been specifically designed to accommodate dragon as well as human visitors, the dragons had been banished from Feravel only days after its completion, and none of them had had a chance to visit.

“I can talk to a real live dragon?” His voice was awed. “And fly on its back?”

“Yes!” I gave him a quick hug. It would be wonderful to have my brother with me on the journey. “Pack your things; we’ll be starting early tomorrow.”

How early, I didn’t even want to contemplate. The King’s Seat was in the middle of Feravel. It was a week’s ride to the border of Roulain, and another week’s ride across Roulain to the ocean. A ship would carry us two days’ journey out, and leave us on a tiny, uninhabited island called Black Gull Rock, where Shardas and Feniul would meet us.

“If dragons were allowed in human lands we wouldn’t have to do this,” I grumbled to Luka early the next morning as I loaded my luggage onto the backs of the patient packhorses.

“I know, I know,” he said soothingly. “Give my father time. I’m sure he’ll let a few dragons come and go . . . in a while.”

With a snort, I picked up the last basket of clothing and handed it to a groom, who carefully strapped it to the back of the packhorse. The horse looked bored, and lowered its head as though thinking about taking a nap until it was time to leave. I could hardly blame it: dawn hadn’t come yet, and a moment before I had yawned until my jaw popped unpleasantly.

Alle staggered to the door of the shop, still in her dressing gown and with her hair mussed. She yawned, and I popped my jaw again, copying her.

“You shouldn’t have gotten up,” I told her. “You’re going to have a busy day: Luka just told me that the invitations to the Autumn Masquerade were sent yesterday.”

She rolled her eyes. “And don’t tell me that you’re not secretly thrilled to get out of making an exotic bird costume for some wealthy dowager with four chins and an enormous . . .” She saw Luka and blushed. “Your Highness,” she squeaked, “I didn’t mean . . . of course not all the wealthies . . .”

“Creel’s thrilled,” Luka said, smiling brightly. “But not because of your clients. It’s because if we stay here, she’ll be invited to attend the masquerade, and then
she’ll
have to dress up like an exotic bird or a flower and try to dance with spangles and fringy things all over her.”

Alle giggled. Then she walked over to poke at the baskets of luggage. “You haven’t forgotten your gown, have you? You know which one?” She gave Luka a sly glance.

“Which gown is that?” Luka looked all innocence.

“The one you’re not supposed to see,” I teased him. I pointed to the last basket. “It’s in there,” I told Alle. “I’ve got all the material, thread, beads, buttons, and lace I could possibly ever need. So don’t worry: it will be done by the time we return, and you and Marta won’t have to scramble to finish my wedding gown the week before the wedding.”

“Just don’t drop it in the ocean or let a dragon scorch it,” she said, rubbing her hands together in the cold morning air. “Or lose it. Or let it drag in the dirt. Or—”

“Alle!” I took her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “I have handled fine fabrics before, you know!”

She gave me a dire look. “Your history with fine gowns isn’t as perfect as you think. Remember
The Gown
?”

Only one of my creations was referred to in that way. It was a golden gown, re-made from the castoffs of a horrible princess. I had worn it to the Merchants’ Ball, where I had first revealed my plan to open my own dress shop. That night, Shardas, my beloved dragon friend, had been forced to attack the New Palace in the battle that began the First Dragon War. The second time I had worn the gown—cleaned and with the damaged parts replaced—Shardas had accidentally yanked the window out of the Royal Chapel and nearly put a complete stop to Miles and Isla’s wedding. After that, the gown was largely held to be cursed, which was why I hadn’t told Marta or Alle that I was taking it with me to the Far Isles.