Page 23 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

Seven

The following day, I found myself in the godsgrass, seated on Etreyiu, without Arkadian at my side.

Markus sat on a big black destrier just ahead of me, shooting me questioning looks. I knew he wanted to know how I'd managed to heal as quickly as I had, and my excuse that I had covered the bruises with a new cosmetic sounded flimsy even to my ears.

There was little he could do but wonder, though, especially with the nobles and courtiers grouped around us as we all waited for the emissaries from Nightfall.

Io had taken me as far as Merchant's Square the night before, where we dismounted in a shadowed alley between two shops. He was smiling broadly as I turned to leave, and I narrowed my eyes at him in question.

"I'll see you tomorrow in the godsgrass, Princess," he said, grinning. "I have a gift for you."

He refused to say more. He just smiled that devilish smile, and by the time the new day dawned, there was nothing that could have stopped me from meeting the party from Radune.

Markus' big horse threw his head irritably as we waited. Etreyiu, under me, was as still as a statue. The only indication that he was not made of stone were the rhythmic movements of his breathing.

I dressed carefully in light, ceremonial armor as had once been traditional for these little meetings; white enameled chain mail, a decorative gold breastplate, and pauldrons over a long white gown draped artfully over Etreyiu's flanks.

I wore my pale white hair braided on either side of my head in the style I knew my mother favored—the style she sported in the painting of her in similar armor that hung in the gallery.

Where I was milky pale and bone white, Queen Laisera had been dark and rich. Her portrait was done in forest greens and crimson. Her armor was ancient-looking burnished gold and matched the sword that hung at her side.

The painting had always made me think of old fairy tales of bold adventures and human heroes going off on epic quests to slay evil magical villains. It looked rather ridiculous next to the ghostly portrait that had been done of me on my eleventh birthday.

Markus pulled his reins up harshly, causing his horse's eyes to roll angrily as he spun around. "I will wait no longer." He raised his hand to signal his guards to return to the castle.

"If we leave, it will be a sign of disrespect to Nightfall," I told him, gritting my teeth.

"She's right, Lord regent." said Bryce Mandelian as he pulled his horse closer to me. "We should give them more time."

His daughter, Franca, my lady-in-waiting, trailed behind him on a big black warhorse. She had begged her father to let her ride out to meet the fae when the bird arrived that they were approaching the city.

She looked beautiful with her rich brown skin against a sage-colored gown and a mass of dark curls arranged high on her head.

Franca had the same boldness and vibrancy as the portrait of my mother.

Looking at her made me wish I could paint, if only so that I could capture the way her pale blue eyes were so striking against her complexion.

I smiled at her, and she responded with a wide, excited grin.

Ignoring Bryce's words, Markus gave us me a dark look and spurred his horse back toward the city gates.

Before they had taken more than a few steps, a sound reverberated off the low hills, sending chills running down my spine.

And then another echoed, a dragon's roar, deep and eerie; a ferocious bellow that split the air in two.

I scanned the sky, heart racing, as the guards around me all drew their swords.

"Back to the city!" Markus shouted. He and the guards started galloping toward the gate. The other nobles followed suit until the thunder of hooves drowned out the sounds carried on the wind.

Baron Mandelian, to his credit, did not move.

He looked at me, his blue eyes sparkling with some excitement as he motioned for Franca to bring her horse close. "Darkwatch, I presume?" he said.

“Indeed.” I said, giving him a smile as his horse danced nervously under him, shying away from what we could now see on the horizon. Great winged creatures, their dark outlines silhouetted against the cloudless blue, were racing out of the northern sky.

I counted three dragons...no it was four, I realized, as a smaller one became visible behind the others. Four dragons soaring over the Godsgrass Kingdom.

I heard a shout and turned to see that some of the guards had returned to flank me. One of them was pointing.

I followed the direction of his gaze to see riders coming up the Godsway, long blue banners streaming behind them as their horse's hooves kicked up a cloud of dust on the road.

Another harsh bellow sounded, and I looked up to see the lead dragon angling downward. He was enormous—inky black with a long neck and spiked frill jutting around his massive head. His wings were tucked back as he soared toward us, impossibly fast.

The smaller dragons, one blood-red fading to black, one midnight blue, and the last a pale stone gray, followed the larger one, pointing narrow heads toward the ground as they sailed down and down.

My heart lurched as they snapped their wings out to catch the wind like a ship's sail, to arrest their fall.

Huge, clawed feet touched down in the godsgrass with a rumble that could be felt through my horse.

A few of the guards had arrows nocked in their bows. I shouted a command for them to lower their weapons.

They looked like they were considering ignoring me, their disgruntled, fear-filled faces full of reproach, but then they reluctantly lowered their bows and sheathed their swords.

I turned in the saddle. Markus was nowhere to be seen.

"Fucking coward," I muttered as I nudged my horse forward even as terror filled me, making my hands on the reins shake.

Baron Mandelian's horse was bucking and kicking, fighting his attempts to move it forward. Franca was behind him with their guards.

"It's okay, My Lord," I called. I motioned for him to stay back as Etreyiu trotted to the dragons with his big white head held high, fearless.

I finally had the nerve to look at the dragons again. Their beauty took my breath away. They were so much more grand, so much more incredible than my imagination could have conjured. The illustrations in my Book of Beasts did them absolutely no justice.

Great scaled heads with ridges running back to those enormous spikes, their tall forms on massive legs jutting up above the shoulder-high godsgrass, wings so massive they blocked out the sun.

The big black one swung his head around as I approached, but I was not afraid. Not any longer.

My fear fled the moment I turned my eyes to the black beast and glimpsed his rider. The tall, broad-shouldered form stalking toward me through the godsgrass was flanked by three more riders in dark, scaled armor.

The world seemed to tremble beneath the feet of the Darkwatch dragon riders.

Power rippled off them, or perhaps it was just him.

It crackled in the air like a living entity as tendrils of magic, unseen, but felt, rippled with some harsh undercurrent.

It seemed to cleave the air apart as it curled around and through the godsgrass.

I turned to see Bryce Mandelian, on foot, marching toward me. He had abandoned his horse rather than make me meet the fearsome beasts myself.

Bryce pointed behind him. I followed the line of his gaze to the castle where the entire wall-walk was dotted with figures—hundreds of them watching from the city.

I swung my leg over the saddle. I should give them a good show, I supposed.

I reached up to pat Etreyiu. "Stay," I told him. He lowered his head and whickered a displeased sound, but he obeyed me as I went out to meet Io in the godsgrass.

I could see his face clearly then. His expression was fierce, beautiful, and fearsome.

My heart leapt at the sight of him in his dark armor, the very image of a legendary warrior stalking like a beast across the plains.

A blade peeked over his shoulder where he had it slung across his back. I had never even seen him with a sword. Even when he saved me that night, when I had put my knife in his chest, he had only seemed to carry a dagger.

I stopped only a few yards away and the dragon mages did the same.

The sight of Io out of the elegant clothes he usually wore was a shock. His muscular arms and legs in the tight-fitting scale armor was another nice surprise. I had not known he was built like that.

"Queen Aelia of Windemere," Aben said, his eyes alight with some mischief. "May I present to you, His Royal Highness Prince Amon Aldur, Lord of Darkwatch and Heir to the Throne of Nightfall."

My heart sputtered as the breath seemed to leave me in a whoosh. Lord of Darkwatch, my mind shouted. Lord of fucking Darkwatch?

I knew what that meant. Everyone knew what that meant. Darkwatch, ancient realm of dragons and druids. Even as an official part of Nightfall, Darkwatch was a kingdom that ruled itself. One lord, one ruler: the Lord of Darkwatch did not even bow to the throne of Nightfall. He was as good as a king.

I met his eyes, and something warm and dark spun low in my belly.

And then wings erupted from his back. Pale, delicate-looking, nearly translucent wings rose above him, and then over his shoulder, a head appeared, followed by a mouth, open, emitting a shrill cry that made me flinch back.

Io...Prince Amon, rather, reached up and pulled the little dragon over his shoulder from where it had been hiding behind him.

"Aelia of Windemere," he said, his deep voice carrying across the fields. "A gift from Darkwatch."

He made to bring the dragon to me, but she flapped her wings, rising above his hand.

And then she came to me.

I reached out automatically, catching her as wings filled my vision. Sleek, leathery skin tipped by ebony claws, rising and beating the air. The breeze buffeted my face and hair as sharp talons held surprisingly gently to my hands and wrists.