Page 37 of The Dragon Queen Complete Series Collection

Chapter 37

When Draven entered the room, I knew instantly what he was feeling. His body held that kind of suppressed rage my stepmother always seemed to nurse, kept banked around my father, ready to erupt the minute his back was turned. But rather than cower or ask myself why me? I met his eyes as he entered the room with the general in tow.

“Whiskey, Rex?” Draven asked the general as he walked over to a cabinet and opened a door to pour himself a glass from a crystal decanter.

“Thank you, my prince.” The general lowered himself down into one of the chairs, staring at me speculatively until a glass was pressed between his fingers. “I knew this would be a mistake, bringing a woman of noble birth into our midst.”

“It would’ve worked better if she had a brother or a father to appeal to. They’d beat her for her insolence without even a word from me,” Draven said as he leaned against the wall.

Is that what Father was supposed to have done? I barely remembered him raising his voice, let alone his hand, but I kept conspicuously quiet about that.

“But without any male relatives to deal with her, an example has to be made of the girl.”

My eyes flicked to the general as he nodded along with the prince.

“Your Highness, if I may, I’d advise against corporal punishment,” Soren said. “The men, the dragons…”

All of their heads jerked up at the sound of dragons roaring while, from my shoulder, Glimmer let out a steady stream of what sounded like dragon invective.

“Yes, they’re inordinately fond of her now.” Draven’s smile was as acidic as Darkspire’s breath. “So perhaps that’s where her punishment lies. I won’t beat the girl, drill sergeant.” I let out my breath in a slow steady stream and I think Soren did the same. “But… something to take the gloss of the lily. Yes, that will work perfectly.”

Which is how I came to be introduced to the eyrie.

It was a cavernous network of tunnels that had been bored out by dragons past in the mountain that made up the centre of Wyrmpeak. Dragons died and new dragons took their place, warmed by rock that was heated by a volcanic spring beneath the mountain. It had apparently been dormant since the time of the first humans, but its heat made it perfect dragon accommodation.

And hell for humans.

I saw several people emerge from one tunnel, only to tip a cart full of dragon shit off the side of the mountain. They seemed expert at it, as my eye followed the load down to a burning fire below, none of it seeming to streak the mountainside. But they were sweating buckets, rivulets running through the stinking black grime that marred their skin.

Dung heapers.

If I’d thought being a pig herder was low on the social totem pole, then this was a step beyond that. The night soil man came around to houses still to set up internal plumbing, emptying the contents of chamber pots and removing it for them. It was an important service and apparently quite lucrative, but that hadn’t made Mr Jones’ life any easier when he sought to marry off his two very pretty daughters. Making a living from literally shovelling shit seemed to stain people in ways that remained once the day’s toil was washed off.

When I looked at Draven, he smiled.

“An eye for an eye, eh, Rex?”

“As you say, Your Highness.”

I wasn’t sure how the general felt, but I was pretty sure I knew how Soren did.

“If I may, Highness?—”

“You may not,” Draven replied. “I am the crown prince now, no longer simply Rider Draven, and as such should have remained exempt from the usual cadet hijinks. That message failed to be disseminated before, but it won’t be now. The Lady Pippin is not too good to shovel shit like the rest of the crew.”

“The Lady Pippin has shovelled shit,” I replied, knowing damn well I shouldn’t. “Pig shit, to be precise. I’m sure dragon shit can’t be any worse.”

It was. So much worse.

Soren had taken a squawking Glimmer from me and I’d been handed a shovel, the shaft of it already grimy with… I blinked, trying to breathe through my mouth, not my nose, as I was walked into an empty den. Straw was left in the corner of each one for just this purpose, but it didn’t stifle the stench at all. Herbivore shit is not a pleasant thing to experience, but carnivores? Meat that was digested in the guts, partially rotting in the process, made for an especially hellish smell. My gorge rose and I tried to keep my guts from rising, then failed.

“In the straw,” the leader of the waste disposers said with a frown. “Makes it easier to clean up.”

And so I made myself my first mess to clean up.

“Not much to show you,” the man continued. “Shovel the shit and straw up, take it to the entrance and toss it out. Give it a good shove, mind, make sure it goes down the mountain or you’ll be sent down on a rope to clean the mess. Don’t go fussing over your uniform or nothing. You’ll be tossing it away at the end of your punishment. Can’t get the fucking smell out of cotton, you can’t.” He nodded, looking me over and then, apparently satisfied I knew what to do, he left me to it.

Draven would be back at lunchtime. I’d be escorted back to the keep then, if I was suitably penitent. I wasn’t sure if that was the emotion that rose up as I faced my first titanic pile of shit. Because big dragons left big messes and right now it was my job to deal with them.

I was glad I hadn’t had a chance to eat breakfast. My guts would’ve emptied anything I ate anyway as I retched out bile more than once. It was so damn relentless. The stench of the pigs got to me in the first month or two with Old Bay, but somehow my nose acclimatised, screening that smell out. Now I’d had more than a week of being free of all of that and my olfactory senses were damnably sensitive again.

The waste disposer had been right. I quailed the first time I got a smear of shit across my shirt, but by now? The cotton stuck to my skin with sweat, soaked all the way through and I was covered with a patchwork of odious stains. And I was light headed. From the ammonia in the dens, from the lack of real air movement, from the heat, I couldn’t tell. I just slapped my hand on the wall after, what? Had it been hours, minutes, days? I just knew I’d shovelled and tossed, shovelled and tossed until everything burned, my head, my back, my nose and my guts.

“Lass…”

I looked up blearily to see Soren had appeared but as he went to approach me, I shook my head.

“No, no, you can’t.” He stopped a few steps away as my voice grew increasingly shrill. “I… reek.”

“That you do.” Draven appeared with a smug smile. “Must be like coming home, returning to your true vocation.” I let out a low growl at that, not able to form words as my head throbbed.

“Highness—”

“Enough, Drill Sergeant. I know you’re concerned about the girl. Half the bloody keep has been in my office, pleading her case.” He turned back to me, seeming to take in my filthy state with an almost a lascivious glee. “But she has served out her sentence and now she can return to the keep.”

Oh thank the gods…

“After she has taken a little detour through the mess hall.” That catlike smile spread.

“Not wise,” I said, swaying drunkenly. “Put everyone off their meals.”

“Yes, you won’t be anywhere near as attractive in this state,” he replied. “Come.”

I tried to stand up straight, I really did, but I veered off to the side. Soren, even the general, stepped closer, ready to catch me, but I waved them off. I saluted the other waste disposers drunkenly, thinking they deserved that respect more than anyone on this damn mountain. Every time I thought myself strong or capable, I was faced with someone else’s burden and I staggered beneath its weight. But I forced myself to follow along, walking all those steps up to the mess hall.

But not unremarked or unseen. Lads came piling out of classrooms to watch me pass and I grinned rakishly, too tired to pretend to be a lady right now. I saluted them too as I passed by and while many of them started talking furiously the minute I passed by, many performed that salute right back. But it was when Lance and Jenkins and some of the other lads came out to watch us pass by that I think the prince began to wonder at the wisdom of his actions. Each of these cadets was perfectly silent as we passed and then, as Lance slammed his fist to his chest in salute, so did the other lads.

We were met by similar shows of respect, but I grinned wolfishly as I saw they were largely for me, not the prince. Maids curtseyed, but they eyed me, not Draven and when we entered the mess hall, the riders were the same. Curses were uttered, bench seats shoved back and men jumped to their feet, some even taking a few steps forward. I heard Draven’s low growl in response and laughed.

“Greetings, fellow riders.” I stopped and performed the kind of theatrical bow that players often used on the stage. “I hope you’re enjoying your midday repast. I fear I am not fit to sit among you just yet.” I sniffed at my armpit then found myself stumbling backwards at the smell of it. “If anyone has any idea how to get the stink of dragon shit off your skin, meet me outside the women’s bathroom. I believe I have need of your advice.”

Draven had been going to say something, make an example of me and if I was a good little girl, I would’ve taken my lumps just like anyone else. But the problem was in trying to shove me right back to where I was as a pig herder, he awakened something else inside me. The part of Pippin who didn’t come out to play often. I stalked past him, past the general and all of the tables like I was the damn queen herself, not giving the prince a bloody inch.

I heard the sound of many footsteps behind me as I walked to the other side of the hall, down the stairs, following me to the bathroom until Soren’s voice cut through it all.

“She didn’t mean any of it!” he snapped, standing between me and a mass of riders.

Didn’t I? I wasn’t so sure.

“Step aside, old man,” one of the riders said. “You’re no use to the girl. You’re old enough to be her father.”

“Is it her father I’m to be?” Soren asked. “Then father I will be. Pippin is delirious, dirty, dehydrated and has been humiliated publicly before the whole keep. She needs help right now, not what lurks in your pants. Go back and have a meal. The lady will return soon enough, clean and well presented, to have her first meal of the day and all the water she can drink. No one will be pressing their advantage, not while I stand.”

There was something to this, the ringing sound of Soren’s voice, but I couldn’t make head nor tail of it in my current state. I just felt tired, so tired my breath caught in my lungs, as if it took too much to inflate them. I walked away from whatever this mess was, into the bathroom, pulling my stinking clothes off and dropping them to the floor, before going to stand under the nearest shower rose.

Water, cool water, streamed over my flesh, bringing down the fever that seemed to rage inside me, washing away some of the grime.

“Pippin. Oh gods…”

I looked over blearily to see that Soren had his back turned to the door, and Nancy was bustling in.

“You’re keeping those young bucks out of here?” she asked in a no-nonsense tone. “Good. I’ll see to the mistress.”

“Not a mistress…” I barely whispered the words out. My head pounded now, as if the pain hadn’t dared make itself known before this point, and it stabbed at me in retaliation with a vengeance. I sucked in a breath, and even that made a sob form in my chest, as I could still smell the fucking stink of shit in my nose. “I’m not anything.”

That should’ve been a pitiable statement, but it wasn’t. Being nothing, there was a freedom to that and as I opened my eyes to stare at the tiles, my mind raced. But Nancy seemed to take it a cry for help. She cooed some nonsense, letting me know she had a soap that stripped the grease from pans and oil from cart wheel bearings, so it should suit my purpose. She even scrubbed my back for me in a series of brisk and economical motions, although I protested I was getting her dirty.

“No harm in getting your hands dirty,” she told me. “Though somehow, for a noblewoman, I think you already know that. Thank the gods you’ve already shaven your head, because only they know how we’d have gotten this out of your hair.”

And that was the point. Draven had taken too much from me.

A beating would have been over more quickly and would have been less designed to humiliate than this, but shovelling shit was what he had chosen, hoping to push me right back into my past trauma. My hands clawed at the walls and I felt a growl form in my throat.

Well, no one can make you feel bad about yourself without your permission, and, going forward, I wasn’t giving Draven anything.