Page 48 of Lady Dragon

She hoped they were still hers to promise, anyway—rather, still her mother’s, for the princess to offer on her behalf. Her mother would’ve had to have remained queen for that to be possible. Better yet, remained alive .

But if Samansa had made it back from the dead, she was certain her mother would never have surrendered in the first place.

Valraka eyed her, considering. Many are disgruntled that the chance to have them freely, without bloodshed, was lost with the last Queen Mother’s death—lost with you.

She turned back to Kirek. So, what I will gain is only half my question.

What do I owe you in return, for your voluntary exile and abdication?

“That, I can also answer,” Samansa said. She glanced around with a shudder. “But first, can we please leave this wretched cave?”

She and Kirek flew through day and night after retrieving the saddle, which was miraculously still functional, somehow. It was as burned and battered as Samansa was—or even Kirek. But as exhausted and haggard as they both were, they soared to Andrath with all haste, not stopping to rest.

Her mother hadn’t surrendered, in truth. But she was besieged, Samansa saw from her vantage up high on Kirek’s back, as they approached the queen’s castle from the air .

Just in time. At least, Samansa hoped they were still in time.

Her mother’s flags still flew from the heights of the blue keep, but the city was surrounded.

Her eyes picked out the banners in the encamped army—Tordall’s forces.

But he wasn’t attacking, hadn’t breached the city walls, only blockaded them.

No smoke drifted with the mist winding between the verdant green hills around the city— oh , how much Samansa had missed her home—so that was something, at least.

Inside the castle, however, was Branon’s army. He had breached even the castle grounds and surrounded the very keep. His forces were encamped directly in front of the gates before the moat.

Was Tordall on Branon’s side, or against him? Or was the commander of the queen’s forces merely waiting for the outcome at the keep to decide?

He was an absolute coward, if so, and Samansa would have misread him her entire life. Jamsens had only ever respected him as a father and a leader, and Tordall himself had produced someone as brave and loyal as Jamsens.

But Tordall had also raised Branon, and Branon had murdered Jamsens.

How do you wish to approach? Kirek asked as they circled the city.

“Directly,” Samansa called over the wind. “Put us between Branon and my mother. I want to confront him immediately. I want my mother to know that I stand with her against him. That someone is on her side, and that she’s not alone.”

She’s certainly not alone, and your plan is admirable, if dangerous. Kirek hummed beneath her. I approve.

Samansa rolled her eyes, because of course Kirek would approve of charging right in, but her admiration still made the princess smile and flush with pleasure.

Kirek dropped down over the keep, causing shouts of alarm to rise beneath them. She roared, blowing fire above the soldiers’ heads and clearing a space to land—right where the drawbridge would lower. The best spot to protect the gates. Samansa grimaced as she saw archers readying their bows.

“Hold!” a voice cried, and the archers obeyed. No arrows were loosed as she and Kirek landed in the wide stone courtyard before the keep.

Samansa recognized the voice that had given the order, and it made her skin crawl.

She wasn’t surprised that Branon didn’t want to shoot at first sight.

He believed the dragons had stood aside, after all.

He wouldn’t want to risk provoking them, even if he likely recognized Kirek, never mind the redheaded girl on her back.

For all he knew, Kirek was still in good standing with the dragons—and her mother was still Queen Mother .

Samansa dismounted as Branon strode within range of hearing, a line of troops at his back. Perhaps wisely, he came no closer. Still, Samansa tugged her kerchief into place to hide the strange starburst in her chest.

“Back from the dead,” Branon said, and Samansa nearly laughed, because he didn’t know how true that was. “Have you come to offer me your surrender, sister, in our mother’s stead?” he asked blithely. “Perhaps you will be able to talk some sense into her. Tordall hasn’t yet succeeded.”

“Tordall is in there, with Mother?” Samansa asked, glancing up at the keep. “He’s not turned against her? Or has he?”

Branon shrugged. “Not yet. As the head of the queen’s forces, he, at least, sees reason, unlike our dear mother. She wants him to attack me, but her forces are out there and mine are in here. He’s hoping we can resolve this peacefully.”

Samansa folded her arms and glared at him. “As the queen’s second-in-command, you don’t look terribly peaceful, yourself, besieging her keep.”

“Whatever gets me the throne, sister, I am willing to do,” he said, his voice low and unmistakably threatening. “Now I suggest—”

But the grinding of gears and cranking of chains cut him off as the drawbridge began to lower. Kirek spread her wings and hissed at Branon and the line of troops in case they thought to take any advantage.

As soon as the bridge was down, the gates to the keep crashed open, and out marched a small company, led by the queen in full battle royal regalia.

Her narrow blue skirts were embroidered with gold and lined in chain mail, while a silver breastplate and gauntlets enclosed her chest and arms, her sapphire studded crown on her head.

She even carried her sword—that masterfully forged work of art that was as beautiful as it was deadly.

Atop the pommel, the large blue jewel winked in the sunlight.

Realizing she’d guessed right, Samansa gasped.

The sword was usually mounted on the wall in the throne room, rarely taken down for closer inspection. But now, right here, within reach, Samansa could see it for what it was.

The queen was also accompanied by Tordall, who looked grave, and Cenara, who looked murderous, along with Merard and a retinue of guards, but Samansa ignored them all as she ran up to her mother .

The queen’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Samansa, my darling. You’re alive. You’ve come home to me.”

“Yes, Mother, excuse me,” she said, evading her mother’s arms. “I can’t even describe how happy I am to see you alive and well—as well as you can be, under the circumstances, as the situation appears a bit dire—but I’m absolutely revolting and, trust me, you don’t want to get any of what’s on me on your dress, but if I could please see your sword for a moment? ”

Under the barrage of words, the queen was more shocked than generous in letting Samansa snatch the sword out of her hand.

Cenara and Merard raised their own blades in an instant, as if Samansa might attack the queen, but instead of committing treason and possibly matricide and regicide, the princess ran back to Kirek, the sword clutched in her grip.

“Kirek,” she gasped, lifting the hilt and letting the jeweled pommel shine. “Is this what I think it is?”

Yes , Kirek said, her own affirmation sounding nearly disbelieving.

“Lords and ladies, what is going on?” Branon said, gesturing in arrogant disregard. “Can we get back to—?”

“Shut up,” Samansa snapped, casting around for something to free the stone.

She considered smashing the sword on the ground, but she didn’t want to risk breaking the stone or to cut her hands, which would be rather messy, and she was already a complete mess.

Then a simple solution occurred to her. She raised the sword, hilt-first, back up to Kirek. “Here, bite it.”

“ Samansa ,” the queen said in exasperation. “While I’m overjoyed to see you and I don’t wish to agree with Branon on anything, I have to ask what on earth you are doing with my sword? Which has been in our family for— ”

“Three hundred years, give or take,” Samansa said. “I know.”

Are you sure? Kirek said, her eyes on the stone, but the princess knew she wasn’t referring to the sword’s age. Are you sure you want me to?

“Of course I’m sure!” Samansa shouted, practically thrusting the pommel into the dragon’s mouth.

“Is she… talking to the dragon?” Branon said, and then barked a scornful laugh. “See, she has gone mad.”

“ Silence , Branon,” the queen snapped. “For once in your miserable life.”

Samansa only hefted the blade again, pleadingly. This time, Kirek took the jewel between her large teeth with surprising gentleness. There was a quick snap, and then the queen’s sword no longer had much of a pommel.

And Kirek was no longer a dragon. At least, in this moment. Blue light flared, blinding everyone, forcing even Samansa to shield her eyes with her hand. When the light faded and she let her arm fall, there was Kirek. Her Kirek.

Her dragon girl.

The sight of her standing there in the courtyard, blinking, nearly made Samansa drop the sword on her toes.

In equal shock, Kirek stared back at Samansa, those wide silver eyes returned to her angular, singular human face…

and she burst out laughing. Full laughter.

Not a slight, wry smile or a snicker or a scoff, but free, wild laughter that pealed out like a bell. She sparkled with it, radiant.

She was so beautiful that Samansa wanted to take her into her arms right there and kiss her, but the princess remembered all too well what had happened the previous two times.

First, she’d ignited a curse that turned her into a dragon, and second, she’d had to stab herself in the heart afterward to break the curse.

Not to mention the whole issue with the princess’s unsightly appearance, and the fact that they had an audience—