Page 57 of The Dragon Queen Complete Series Collection
Chapter 57
“Why is it so bloody hot?” I said, wiping my forehead on my sleeve as we piled into the carriage.
“The news, Pippin,” Ged prompted. “What the hell has been going on?”
So I told them. In short, halting words at first, that then came faster and faster, almost in time with the horses’ hooves. Glimmer nestled into my side, resting her head on my knee and I stroked my hand along her spines absently, as it all came out.
“They took Glimmer?”
Ged’s eyes were wide and staring as he flopped back against the seat of the carriage, frowns forming then smoothing away, one after another as he digested what I’d said. Flynn, however, seemed unsurprised.
“You knew?” I asked him.
“I suspected the queen was capable of this. It’s the stone in her necklace, isn’t it?” His eyes dropped down to the pendant hanging around my neck. “She uses it to… We all have psychic connections to our dragons. That’s what the bonding process entails. Finding people that are sufficiently gifted in that way as they present themselves to the egg, the dragon choosing the person they want to bond with. But she’s using the stone to amplify whatever psychic abilities she has to manipulate people.”
“But we were looking after her…” There was pain in Ged’s voice, real pain, and he stared at Glimmer as if she would be snatched away. My hand rubbed down her side, reassuring myself as much as him. “When?”
“When Christian Bailey took Pippin out on a date,” Flynn replied in a flat tone. “I don’t remember how she did it, but I remember what came before.” He frowned. “I realised there was a blank space in my mind yesterday when I wondered why you were being sent off to ‘train’ with Soren, rather than spend your day in the guardhouse. You might not have been whipped, but you should have faced disciplinary actions of some sort. It means Draven or the queen stepped in on your behalf. They are the only ones ranked highly enough to countermand a disciplinary order.”
I swallowed hard, remembering the intent way Soren had sent me running up and down the sand dunes, the way his own natural impulses to slowly build a cadet’s strength were overruled. By what? A frantic need to make me stronger, faster, tougher… What if…? My mind baulked at the idea of it, the prince’s arrogant sneer appearing in my mind the moment I thought about it.
What if it was Draven? Why would he personally oversee my training the night Glimmer was taken? Why was he as surprised as I was to see his mother’s knights requesting our presence at the castle? Why would he…?
He will make a good mate , Glimmer told me.
She had made pronouncements about the men at different times, making clear who she thought was a worthy contender. But Draven? I forced my attention away from her and back to the others.
I told them then of what had happened with Soren, their eyes growing keener as I spilled out the details. And then came my theories. They sounded insane as I said them, but neither man laughed reassuringly when I was done.
“This is about the Crown Prince,” Flynn said to Ged.
“Draven?” I frowned at that.
“No, Crown Prince Felix,” Ged replied.
“Who?”
But as soon as I said it, I knew. Deepacre might be a tiny place on the outer edge of polite society, but even we got news of the royal family. Felix was to have been our next king. He had a dragon called…
“Valiant…”
“Valiant took off when the queen’s dragon, Zafira, rose to mate,” Ged told me. “But…” He sighed. “Dragons are kept locked down in the eyrie, each rider sitting with them for the duration of the heat, both to ensure no other dragon covers Zafira and because we are supposed to bring down any beast that flies the skies during that time, to preserve the advantage of the king’s dragon.”
“There are gunners set up with massive ballistae on top of the walls around Wyrmpeak, but it’s usually seen to be a cushy job. It’s a matter of pride among riders that no one’s dragon rises. We practise controlling them when they are still small, like Glimmer here, and we exert our will when it’s time for the queen dragon to mate. A dragon hasn’t been shot down during a mating in… generations. That’s the explanation that was given when Valiant was shot. A massive bolt straight to the heart? He didn’t survive and neither did Felix. He lingered on in a coma for a few days and then he died.”
“Draven never saw himself as a prince,” Flynn said with a kind of surety that made me wonder at their relationship. “He was the spare, not the heir. He wanted to become general of the Royal Riders when Carruthers was ready to step down, that was his plan. Felix would rule the country, but Draven would have the only part of it he really cared about.”
His eyes met mine.
“It damn near killed him, losing Felix and the riders both. Everything came crashing down.”
“Killed the gunner in reality,” Ged said grimly. “The lad was strung up and hung from the gallows like a common criminal.”
“Why the hell would Prince Felix go against long standing rider protocol and go off on dragon back while his parents’ dragons mated? He’d have to have known—” I asked.
“It’s when her defences are down.” Flynn stared across the carriage, but not at me. He was seeing something else altogether. “All of ours are. Each dragon, each rider, has different psychic strengths. A very small group can talk to other people’s beasts.”
“Harris is always doing that, filling Cloudy’s head with annoying little ditties to wake me from my sleep,” Ged grumbled.
“But on the day of a mating, the queen and her dragon can broadcast across the whole city,” Flynn continued. “Instinctually blasting out to each dragon in the near vicinity that they need to come and vie for the right to mate her.”
“A lot of babies come about nine months after a dragon mating. It doesn’t affect the average citizen in the way it does us, but it certainly makes adults more receptive.” Ged smiled, though it wasn’t a happy thing. “Lucky them. The girls try to do right by us in the keep, but?—”
“Prince Felix would’ve known that,” Flynn said, then looked out the window as the carriage came to a stop. “And that the queen has a stone that somehow amplifies her intent. Not sufficiently to brainwash every person in the city and not all the time.”
I thought of the king’s bored expression as the queen pronounced judgement on Glimmer, his expression only enlivening when she proposed killing my dragon.
“Not all the time,” I confirmed. “Just those that are key to her, like the king. Like the next queen dragon when she was still in her shell. The queen tried to stop Glimmer from thriving, from hatching in her very shell.”
“Because she would not respond to Beatrice,” Flynn said. The horses moved restively as we sat there inside the carriage, our destination before us. “My father and the other dukes have always suspected that Harlston was somehow skewing the results, because how could the queen dragons choose a queen from the same duchy for the last three generations? Once is perfectly reasonable. Twice is unusual. But three? It’s why Glimmer was rejected and why you were too, Pippin. You’re the true queen-in-waiting and that puts you in a very vulnerable position.”
He opened the door then and I jumped at the sudden blast of light and noise, but when he got out and reached for my hand, ready to help me out, it felt different somehow.
“No, Flynn. Not the queen-in-waiting” I said, staring into his eyes. “No,” I said when Ged appeared beside us. No, again, when they handed some coins to the carriage driver and again when he drove away. I was saying no right up until they escorted me towards the dressmaker’s shop and opened the door, ushering me in.
“Lady Pippa, I assume?”
A beautifully dressed woman approached me and then sank down into a polite curtsey. Any designs I might or might not have on the throne needed to be pushed aside to deal with this.
“Just Pippin,” I replied as she rose up again.
“Well… Pippin. The wing commander has spared no expense. We are to create a beautiful dress for you for tonight’s ball!” She slipped her arm in mine and led me over to several mannequins, each with a dress upon it. “Commander Brom gave me some idea of your dimensions and I took the liberty of putting together some selections. Unfortunately a truly custom-made dress is not possible in such a short notice, but I think we have something we can work with here.”
She looked me over like someone would a horse at market, taking in my height, my build and then nodded.
“He said greys and silvers would suit you well and he is right.” She gestured to a pewter coloured dress that was beautiful, yet elegant in its simplicity. “Though I believe a sage green might also work.”
“Have Pippin try both on,” Flynn said. “Now, could I prevail upon your delivery boy to send a message for me? I need to send a note to my tailor.”