Redeeming the Dragon (Into the Enchanted)

Chapter 29

I did not weep long. What was the use? I was free of the spell, but the dragon-man, with whom I was falling in love, was not. Moreover, he was bound to the curse because of my perfidy.

If only I had listened to him, I mourned, still on my knees, dabbing at my tears with the hem of my nightgown. If only I did not break his confidence. A year in this cave? I could have done it, especially with the magic mirror he provided and with visits home. If I had waited a year, he might have been free, as would I.

Now, we were both imprisoned. He, by the curse cast over him because of his father’s mistakes. I, by the connection I felt to this man I barely knew, and yet…I did know him.

“This will not do, Lorna.” My hands on my knees, I pressed myself upright, climbing to my feet. “This will not do,” I repeated, firming my resolve. “If you would not wither when you thought yourself a dragon’s captive, why should you wither now?”

Kidron’s words, the words of a Dragonkind prince, rang in my ears :

You are the bravest being, human or dragon, I have ever known. If there was a battle to be fought, a world to be won, or a conquest to be made, I would wish for none other than you by my side.

“Perhaps I cannot fight a battle, win a world, or force a conquest,” I said to myself, clenching my fists in resolve, “but I can rescue a dragon and save a prince!”

Encouraged, I stalked back into my stone bedchamber. I gazed upon it for the final time, for I would not return. The notion filled me with no sadness, save for the fact I had met Kidron here, and it was here I’d had my first taste of love. Already, my heart yearned for the peaceful blue waters and golden sands of the Jeweled Isles. It yearned even more for the mysterious dragon prince who had been compelled to bring me here, hoping to shatter a spell.

No. I will not sit about yearning. Not when it is time to act.

How to act, I was unsure. My sole clue was the mirror, which I glanced towards. The daylight gloom of the cave held up, and the mirror was awake, showing me the peaceful bend in the seashore near our cottage. Gulls dipped and squawked. The waves rolled restlessly against the shoreline. The beauty, the familiarity of it tugged at my heartstrings, but the old Lorna who had never craved anything except familiarity now craved something more—to free her prince.

“What if I use the mirror?” I mused aloud, rubbing my chin in thought. “What if I use the mirror to take me to Kidron? Or to the Scraggen’s keep? Could this mirror take me east of the sun and west of the moon?”

I could not jump just yet. Before I asked the mirror to take me anywhere, there were things to do. First, I got dressed, pulling on sturdy trousers, a tunic, a coat, and boots. What the weather would be like at Moonswept, the Scraggen’s keep, I’d no idea. I decided it was better to have warm items with me, in case of cold. If the weather turned out to be warm, I could shed the winter wear.

I packed the cloth bag that I’d brought from home with food, and requested the cave’s magic to fetch me waterskins. Last of all, I stole longing looks at the half-finished gown lying on the side table. Moving closer to it, I stroked my hand over the fabric, thinking,

If I’d listened to Kidron, I might have broken the spell. I might be finishing this dress and wearing it as my wedding gown while marrying him. Instead, I suppose I’ll leave it here. What is the point of taking it?

However, when I lifted my hand to walk away, a pang struck deep in my soul, reverberating through my heart, my body. It was a pang of loss, coupled with an absolute certainty that I was making the wrong decision. I would not say the gown spoke to me, but something warned me I would be making an even worse mistake by leaving this sewing project behind than I’d made in disobeying the dragon and listening to my mother.

Stunned, I placed my fingertips back on the gleaming satin and felt a sense of rightness. My fingers began to itch. The strangest feeling coursed up through my fingers and into my arm, across my chest, and all the way to my heart.

“I can’t leave this,” I murmured aloud.

The words had scarcely left my lips when a soft green glow seeped out from beneath the pads of my fingers, swept across the surface of the gown, slid over the sewing instruments beside it, and then…vanished, winking away into nothingness. Gasping, I jerked my hand away.

“What was that?” I said. I glanced wildly over both shoulders as if someone might be standing there watching me perform the trick .

“What was that?” I repeated. Only the silence of the cave, combined with the soft rushing echoes of the sea in the mirror, answered my question.

I bit my lip, debating what to do. I stretched out my hand over the fabric, daring myself to touch it again. My fingers trembled slightly. What was wrong with me? I’d never hesitated to touch my own work. Then again, never had I seen or experienced a green glow passing from my fingertips through the sewing.

“Lorna, perhaps this experience has driven you insane,” I muttered aloud.

That might be true, or…

Kidron claimed I had magic. He’d said the terms of the Scraggen’s curse required him to find a woman with magic, and that something had called to him the night he rescued Father at sea. He couldn’t be utterly mistaken, could he? After all, he was able to rescue my father and find our home with ease.

But magic? Me?

To my knowledge, no one in my family had magic, except for the possibility of Mama’s bones warning her of storms. I failed to understand how I could have it. And yet…

Testing the waters, I lowered my palm to the fabric of the gown. Rested it there. Waited.

Nothing. No itching of my fingertips. No green light. No glow. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing except the growing resolution in my soul that if I left the dress, I would be doing myself—and Kidron—a great disservice.

“Well,” I said aloud. “I suppose that answers one question. Whether I have magic or not, I cannot say, but I will take you with me,” I told the gown .

With that, I hastily bundled up the entire project—dress, needles, thread, scissors, etc. I wrapped them in a sturdy canvas cloth and pushed them down into my bag, which, by now, was burgeoning with supplies for my journey. I slung it over my shoulder and secured it at my waist.

Ready to depart, I walked to the mirror and stood before it.

Use the mirror, Kidron had advised.

How do I use a mirror?

No denying it was a magical artifact. How did it work? Gingerly, I reached out to touch its shiny surface. Rather than solid, unfeeling glass, it shimmered beneath my fingertips, rippling like waves on the seashore. Yet the image of my home island never altered, and the sounds remained unchanged. I jerked my hand away from the odd sensation of cool glass moving beneath my flesh.

“How do I make you take me where I wish to go?” I muttered aloud.

Make?

For some reason, the word stuck in my mind. Should I be attempting to make a magical artifact do anything? Or would I get further by simply requesting? Certainly, more flies were caught with honey than vinegar. This was a universal truth.

Steeling myself, I reached out again, this time placing all five fingertips of my right hand on the smooth surface.

“Magic mirror,” I said softly, “I do not know how you work, but, if you can hear me, please help me. The man I—the man I love, has been taken from me. Please help me find him. I know he has gone somewhere east of the sun and west of the moon. I don’t know where that is. If there is any truth to his claims of magic inside me and a bond between us, please…please help me. Please send me there. I want to rescue him, to free both him and his dragon from the Scraggen’s curse .

“Please help me, mirror,” I finished.

To my shock, my fingers began to itch and then I beheld the same green glow. It seeped out from beneath my fingertips, like water leaking from the bottom of a cracked vase. Quickly, it spread across the face of the mirror, which rippled. This time, it changed when it rippled. Briefly, the noises of the sea and gulls and the waves were louder in my ears. Then they suddenly altered to a great whooshing sound, coupled with my own scream. For my hand, which had been resting on the glass, was sucked into it.

My hand, then my arm, my shoulder, my head, and my entire body. All were whisked into the glass. I felt as if I’d been picked up by a giant hand and tossed down a long tunnel. Blinding lights flashed in the midst of intense darkness. Wind roared in my ears. It plucked at my clothes, my bag, until I feared them being ripped away. My horrified scream pierced my ears, and then I was dropped onto a pillow of white that was both wet and cold.

I shrieked, floundering, my arms and limbs flailing.

“What is this?” I gasped, confused at the abrupt switch between the cave and this new landscape. Jolting upright, finding my feet, I batted at the white, powdery stuff clinging to the front of my jacket. “Where am I?”

“Have you never seen snow before?”

The voice, as cool and crisp as the winter air, lashed me. I spun towards it, having no idea what to expect. Had I been expecting what I saw, I think my mouth would still have dropped open.

“Close your mouth, girl,” the being commanded. “What you are seeing—apparently for the first time—is snow. And the one with whom you are speaking is Braisley, queen of the fairies.”