13

"Announcing his Royal Highness, Prince Gildas, seventh son of Garjun, King of Zairos, brother to Crown Prince Bessian, Duke of Lantikesh, and Bravelyn, second son…"

Meridian drones on and on in a grandly pompous tone, both arms extended as if to encompass every courtier and guard standing in the throne room of the Elekstan palace. He's the only one of our group to have stepped over the threshold—Hinarax and I are waiting in the hallway with the other three, until Meridian finishes presenting us to the court and receives the King's nod to approach.

I keep my face expressionless, though inwardly I'm seething at the ridiculous length of human introductions. Dragons use few honorifics. If I were introduced in my dragon form, a herald might say, "Prince Kyreagan, son of the Bone-King Arzhaling, lord of Ouroskelle," and that would be more than sufficient. But this introduction seems interminable, and it's all I can do to maintain the mask of haughty indifference that Meridian instructed me to wear during all our interactions at the palace .

We got through the city gates easily enough. Apparently the documents Meridian presented were so perfectly forged no one thought to question them. The Southern prince was expected, after all, and highly anticipated as the first dignitary to visit Elekstan since its conquest. No one seems to have heard of the real prince's demise at the hands of the pirates; but Meri warned us news of that event could arrive at any time. We're supposed to confess to having some trouble with pirates, so that any further news will seem like a partially accurate report at best.

At this distance, standing just outside the doors of the throne room, I can barely see Rahzien on his throne, thanks to the large plumed hat Meridian is wearing. He claims it's the height of fashion for heralds in the Southern Kingdoms. I was spared from wearing such a monstrosity. Instead I'm clad in skin-tight pants, boots with curved toes, and a tunic made of something called essensilk, which I'm told is unique to Zairos. The essensilk feels unsettlingly fragile, but its slippery glide against my skin is pleasant. Almost as lovely as the sensation of Serylla's bare body against mine.

I'm haunted by a thread of awareness in my soul—the tug of proximity. She's somewhere nearby, but I can't be sure where, or how close. I want to run to her, scoop her up, and smash our way out through the palace walls before leaping into the bright air and flying away.

But I must not let myself yield to the impulse. I need to find out if there is some foul magic linking her to Rahzien. I won't risk her safety to soothe my own impatience.

As Meridian's introductory speech drags on, my stomach churns with nervous bile. I swear my very bones are itching so badly that I want to flay myself wide open with my claws, carve right down to my skeleton if it will assuage that crawling, creeping sensation. My heart rate climbs higher with every phrase from the rogue's mouth. If he doesn't stop talking, if I can't move soon, I will lose my fucking mind. My ribcage seems to have shrunk, compressing my lungs, squeezing my heart.

This feels like the fit I suffered right before I told Mordessa's fathers about her death. But I can't panic here, can't lose control. By the Bone-Builder, I wish I had Varex with me. He has a way of calming me by his very presence.

Meridian turns and waves me forward with a flourish of his gilded walking stick.

I stalk slowly into the throne room, trying to breathe steadily, to keep my face haughtily calm, to wash all traces of hate and vengeance from my gaze and replace them with faint, cool interest.

There he is. Rahzien, upon his throne. His thick ringed fingers tap the sides of a silver cup as he watches my progress down the scarlet strip of carpet toward the steps of the dais.

Each time I've met him, I've been a dragon. I've towered over him, more glorious and powerful than he will ever be. It's unutterably strange to approach him in my human form, to feel so naked, vulnerable, and exposed, even though I know he can't recognize me. I dispelled my horns and claws, my tongue isn't cloven, and I'm striding easily, as if I've walked on two legs all my life. In this form, my voice isn't as deep, nor do I pronounce words quite the same way through my human teeth, so he won't recognize my voice. There is no way Rahzien can know I'm the dragon prince who helped him win this palace.

As Thelise said, my face and form are the most effective disguise I could hope for.

Close behind me, on either side, I hear the steady footfalls of Hinarax and the slightly off-kilter steps of Meridian. Behind them, the booted feet of our three false guards.

I risk darting my eyes aside twice, once to the left and once to the right. I've never set foot in such a magnificent space as this, and I can't help marveling at the tall columns and elaborately decorated arches. The marble floors are so highly polished they shine like glassy water, mirroring the columns and making the hall appear twice as immense.

In addition to many helmeted Vohrainian guards, several other people stand here and there among the pillars. Even though Norril tried to instruct me on the different classes of society and the various ranks at court, I can't be sure whether those people are palace attendants or nobles.

My heart sinks as I realize Serylla is not in the room.

Meridian clears his throat lightly, the signal for me to take one more step and then halt. Coming to a stop, I bow in the manner of the Southern Kingdoms—one hand on my right hip, my left arm stretched out to the side. I repeat the words Meridian had me memorize.

"Health and glory be upon your house, great King. I come with greetings and congratulations from my father Garjun, King of Zairos and from my esteemed brothers, Bessian, Bravelyn, Victoran, Larrence, Trysteon, and Davrith."

"God's balls," chuckles Rahzien. "Quite a mouthful, those names. Welcome, Your Highness, and please carry my gratitude and respect to your honored father the King upon your return. His friendship means a great deal to me. I regret that I cannot offer you the same quality of food and entertainment that I usually have at my disposal in Vohrain."

"Any hospitality you can offer will be greatly appreciated," I reply. "Our journey has been harrowing. We encountered pirates during the voyage, and barely escaped being seized and scuttled. We placed our valuables in a skiff and sent it toward their ship, and they allowed us to leave with our lives while they collected the tribute. As such, we have brought few possessions, and I regret that I have no gift to offer Your Majesty at present. Rest assured, my father will make it right as soon as possible."

"Begging your Majesty's pardon," Meridian interjects with a bow. "His Highness would never mention it, out of deference to Your Majesty, but my lord prince endured a severe injury during our encounter with the pirates. They fired at us a few times before we yielded the treasure, and His Highness was struck in the head by—"

"By a cannonball," puts in Hinarax helpfully.

"Ha ha! No," says Meridian with a peal of forced laughter. "The Prince's esquire does enjoy a little joke from time to time. No, the Prince was struck by a piece of flying debris, a spindle from the broken railing of the ship. In fact both he and his esquire were hit by the same spindle—they were standing side by side, you see. Inseparable, these two. They've both suffered some pain, and a few lapses in memory, but they seem to be recovering. Though the Prince may need to take more rest than usual during our visit to your illustrious court."

"It sounds as if your journey has been harrowing indeed." Rahzien's eyes rove over me, and I have the sense that he's collecting details, like a dragon collects treasure.

"Never fear, the lack of a gift does not offend me," he continues. "Though truthfully I was hoping to claim the support of Zairos in a tangible way. No matter—we can discuss it when you are not so exhausted from traveling. Perhaps we can cheer your hearts this evening—I'm hosting a feast here in the palace, with dancing to follow. I've invited many of the Elekstan nobles to join the fun."

"My father will be pleased to hear that the Elekstan nobility are acclimating so swiftly to your rule," I say.

"The nobles are adjusting," replies Rahzien, with a broad smile that does not reach his eyes. "After tonight, I think they will be even more eager to embrace the future. The guests for this dinner are solely male, you see—an exclusive group. And I've arranged for a number of the finest pleasure escorts from the Capital and the surrounding cities to be our dance partners. My guests can enjoy a spirited dance and an equally spirited tryst afterward, if they so desire. And each man will also get the chance to taste a previously forbidden, but most delectable fruit. "

"What kind of fruit?"

"You wouldn't ask me to give away the surprise, would you, Your Highness?" Rahzien smiles, and for a moment I spot the serpent beneath his leonine exterior. There's a duality to him—the brawling warrior and the slithering strategist.

"Of course not." I give him a curt nod. "I will be pleased to join you this evening. May I have your leave to bring my herald and my esquire? This one is rather amusing at parties." I gesture to Meridian.

"By all means," says Rahzien, with a generous wave of his hand. "My servants will show you to your quarters, where you may rest and refresh yourselves before the festivities. We will revel tonight, and do business tomorrow."

"Very well." I repeat the Southern bow, and the King rises to return it. It's a mark of honor, one I might appreciate if we were not mortal enemies.

Servants and guards come forward to escort us from the throne room. As we accompany them, the members of my "retinue" converse quietly in the Eventongue about the perils of our fictitious journey.

After traversing a reception room and a short hallway, we arrive at a staircase. With a cold blast of shock, I realize that neither Hinarax nor I have ever climbed steps.

When I glance back at Meridian, I know he's thinking the same thing. Steps are commonplace for humans—I'm sure it never entered his mind that dragons never use them.

"You're weary from your journey, my lord," he says to me. "Hold onto the banister as you go." And he grasps a long, slim piece of polished wood that follows the upward slant of the stairway.

Following his cue, I grip the banister and begin climbing the steps. It's simple enough, like stepping onto a rock, except I have to keep stepping upward at a uniform height and distance. Ahead of me, Meridian's breathing becomes labored, and I realize that with his injury, raising his right leg high enough for each step must be a difficult task, perhaps even painful. Yet he persists.

Reaching the second floor is a triumph, and I allow myself to absorb my surroundings, to picture Serylla running through these halls, first as a child, then as a young princess. I'm not as intrigued by the human lifestyle as Hinarax, but even I can barely refrain from commenting on the intricate crystalline lamps, the lush patterned carpets, and the paintings of somber people and cloudy landscapes. It's all so delicate, so easily destroyed. Why waste so much time on beautiful things that could be ruined in seconds?

But perhaps humans are fascinated with frail luxuries because they themselves are so delicate, so easily broken. I remember how Serylla's slender frame felt in my claws, the way the dainty bones shifted beneath her skin when I held her wrist. So brittle, so beautiful.

We're guided into a suite of large rooms, the biggest of which is mine, according to the servants, who abandon our group as soon as we're safely ensconced in our quarters. My chamber is sparsely furnished and nearly as big as my cave back on Ouroskelle. In fact, it's so large my dragon form could fit in here if I pinned my wings to my sides and curled my body around the bed. A dragon as bulky as Fortunix or Ashvelon wouldn't fit, but my form is sleeker than theirs.

Meridian enters behind me, leaning on his stick. "This room should work for your dragon form if we move aside the chairs and tables in the sitting area. Not sure what we'll do for Hinarax when he's a dragon. He could probably fit in the bathing room."

I glance sharply toward him, alarmed that he's speaking so openly, but he waves away my concern. "Oh, we can talk freely. The servants left. We're alone."

"What is the bathing room?" I ask.

"It's one of those places that reeks sickeningly of the luxurious privilege of the rich," he says. "Come with me. "

The bathing room resembles a cave of pale green marble threaded with veins of black and gold. When Meridian wrenches a copper handle, hot water gushes into a huge, rectangular pool, also cut from marble. The bathtub , he calls it. He points out three smaller bowls with more handles and water pipes, each standing about waist height.

"These are sinks," explains Meridian. "I told you about them, remember?"

I have no recollection of such a thing, but Hinarax, who has appeared beside me, nods enthusiastically. "I remember."

"And is that also a sink?" I point to a low bowl-shaped object connected to more pipes.

"That's a toilet," says Meridian. "You sit on it or stand over it to relieve yourself, then you pull the chain when you're done, and everything goes away."

"Goes where?" Hinarax inquires.

"Through the pipes to an underground stream, which empties into a subterranean river," explains Meri. "It will be good to use a bathroom again, instead of the woods or a pit in the caves."

Hinarax approaches the toilet, takes out his cock, and points it at the bowl. "Like this?"

"Usually when you're alone," says Meridian with a wry laugh. "But yes."

Hinarax starts pissing, and I turn away to inspect one of the sinks. I'm fascinated by the way the water pours from the opening of the pipe and instantly drains away into a hole in the bottom of the sink. "This seems wasteful," I announce.

"It's running water," says Meridian. "No more wasteful than the flow of a stream or a river. And now, if you'll turn off the water, Kyreagan, and if Hinarax will put his dick away, we can settle in. I have a feeling tonight's ‘delectable fruit' may be of interest to us. "

"You think it's the Princess?" Hinarax asks, turning toward us with his cock still out.

"For god's sake—shake it, don't stand there dripping," Meridian says.

Hinarax shakes his dick over the toilet, tucks it into his pants, and buttons them up again.

"Now you flush it," Meridian prompts him. "Use the chain."

Hinarax tugs on the chain hanging near the toilet. There's a rushing, sucking, swirling sound, and the yellow water in the toilet disappears. Within seconds, clean water rushes in to replace it.

"By the Bone-Builder," breathes Hinarax in awe. "Are you sure this is not magic?"

"Far better. It's science."

I step forward, intrigued in spite of myself. "Do it again."

Hinarax pulls the chain, and we watch the water swirl away. The sound is most satisfying.

"Try it," says Hinarax, so I grip the chain and pull. Again there's the pleasant, rushing swirl of water draining away, before more water takes its place.

"And this will carry away shit as well?" I ask.

"Yes," Meridian replies. "Human-sized shit, not dragon-sized. God, we're going to have to figure that out, aren't we? Or perhaps you could just avoid shitting while in dragon form. You're flushing it again , Kyreagan? I think that's enough for now. Come, Hinarax, and I'll instruct you in the use of soap." He steers Hinarax toward the sinks.

"I already know about soap," I comment.

"Excellent. Thus far neither one of you seems to sweat or smell as heavily as most men do, but perhaps you should wash yourselves before the feast tonight. I suppose I shall have to teach you how to bathe."

"I've bathed before, with the Princess," I tell him. "I can do it myself. "

Hinarax gives Meri a sly smile. "I have no idea how to bathe. I'm not even sure where I would start. Perhaps you could join me in the bath, and show me how it's done… to make sure I'm clean everywhere. "

Meridian tries to stifle a grin and fails. "Perhaps I could. It'll be a terrible imposition, of course, but such little sacrifices must be made in the interest of the greater good. Off you go, Kyreagan, and explore the rest of the rooms. Hinarax and I have bathing to do."

For the next hour I prowl the suite, trying to ignore the groans and sighs of pleasure from the bathing room as I familiarize myself with various objects. I've heard of some of the items, either through Serylla or the rebels. Others are strange to me. Fortunately Aeris accompanied our group, playing the role of a bodyguard, so I ask her the names and uses of several things, and she's good enough to answer patiently.

To my surprise, many of the items on the dressers and shelves of the suite are purely decorative. I'm especially fascinated by a porcelain figure of a dancing woman, whose gold-painted hair is frozen in a gleaming swirl.

"That's supposed to be a figure of the Princess," comments Aeris.

"Her nose isn't right," I peer at the small statue. "And her collarbones aren't so straight—there's a curve to them. Her belly swells a little more, just here." I point to the figure's lower stomach. "And her thighs are thicker. But her ankles are more delicate."

"You know her so well," Aeris says softly.

"I know the scent of her skin," I murmur. "I know the arch of her foot, the hollow of her hip, the texture of her hair. I know the smell of her fear and her lust, the curve of her lower lip, the shape of her navel, the strength of her thighs when they're pinned around my face… "

"I get the idea," Aeris says with a breathless chuckle. "Can you sense her at all? Hinarax said you can feel her when she's nearby."

"She's close enough for me to sense her, yes. But the link between us is a vague, distant awareness. I don't think she's on this floor of the palace."

"We'll find her," Aeris assures me. "We'll figure this out. And we got lucky with the size of these rooms. Instead of smuggling you out of the city when you need to change, you can simply rest here in dragon form tonight, after the ball. We can keep the servants out of the suite until late morning."

"I'm hoping we won't be here that long," I tell her. "If the Princess attends the ball, I'll find a way to speak with her. Once we know if she's truly linked to Rahzien, we can proceed with rescuing her and killing him."

"And if she doesn't appear tonight?"

"Then I'll leave the festivities early and walk the halls of the palace until I sense her or someone stops me. Whichever comes first."

"And…" Aeris hesitates so long I know what she plans to ask. "If she's truly linked to Rahzien? If she can't leave?"

"Then we must find some way to break the spell, unravel the bond, dissolve the link. Whatever it takes."

"I may have an idea where we would start with that." She lowers her voice. "I haven't told any of the others this, but… you're not the first dragon I've met."

"You encountered dragons during the war." I nod grimly.

"No, that was different. I'm saying I've met a dragon. She was badly wounded, and she's in the care of a sorcerer friend of mine—they're both in hiding, because he doesn't want to serve Vohrain with his magic, but—"

Heat flares through my body. I grip Aeris's shoulders. "What the fuck did you say?"

"My friend, he's hiding from the King— "

"No," I choke out. "The other thing… you said she is in your friend's care."

"Yes, the dragon."

"The dragon… is female?"

Aeris nods slowly. "I should have told you before, but I wasn't sure I could trust you, and then I thought it might be too much, on top of everything else. But yes… there's a female dragon here in Elekstan. One who survived the Supreme Sorcerer's curse."