6. Clara
6
CLARA
W ere it not for her vision, Clara would have believed herself searching for a myth. The royal library was grand, with books and scrolls on every subject: potions, alchemy, military history and strategy, mathematics, and astrology. But disappointingly, the texts omitted Phaedrus. Only anatomy books and elementary novellas mentioned him specifically by name but nothing detailed. It was only through Lord Nero she had some idea regarding their creation story.
Dragons originated from gargoyles. To escape their servitude as mercenaries, Phaedrus agreed to steal an artifact from Hades. For his mission, he took any gargoyles that wished to go. Lord Nero had told her they were close to victory, but during their escape, Hades caught them. As punishment, he cast the group into hellfire. Instead of death, the hellfire merged with their bodies, giving them the unique abilities they were famously known for.
Why was none of that information here in Ouroboros? Nothing was documented about Phaedrus or how the dragons even settled after their failed mission.
Clara flipped through a red book. It was a condensed history of the war with the gargoyles. Like the others, not a lot of detail. Only that Phaedrus emerged a war hero and became the father of an emerging empire.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. Night stars twinkled against the midnight sky, as if to mock her. She rubbed her temple.
There had to be more information, but how could she get it? It was na?ve of her to believe that she could tell the royal family about her vision and expect full cooperation. But she was up against a clock.
“I should never have involved the Pythia,” she mumbled.
The faceless Heir haunted her dreams after her initial vision from Elisora. All she could remember was flowing pure white snow hair. Ice blue scales gleamed against pale alabaster skin along his exposed cheeks, neck, and hands. Ghostly horns grew from his temples and, despite having a large body, the humanoid version could move fluidly.
But no dragons here came close to that description. Majority had darker features or scales in red, green, gold, sapphire, or gray. The only one whose color came close was the emperors who was opal. In a scroll, it said that the emperor was a being who had a combination of all colors and could change others at will. Did that mean that he would pick an heir and change theirs to be the ice blue that she saw?
No. Impossible. It is not the emperor who chooses Phaedrus’s heir, but Phaedrus and the Fates.
Clara stood and rolled her shoulders. The castle had a chill at night that caused bumps on her skin. She pulled her light pink shawl closer, squeezing it against her shoulders. The ruby choker that clasped around her neck and fell over her front, cascading down her breasts. The matching pink corseted dress fit closely against her figure, belted at her waist with a plain gold rope.
She pulled her wavy black hair to the side as she approached the grand window of the library. Ouroboros was a remarkable land. The immediate city was like what she had seen in Herrlof with sturdy homes of dark gray brick and stone. Statues of the royal family stood throughout in the central square surrounded by a fountain with misty crystal water.
To the east, across the ocean, she saw pointed mountains and volcanoes, gray smoke billowing from its crater, alluding to an impromptu eruption.
In the west, there was luscious greenery with trees of gold, rose, and amethyst. It was if they huddled together three countries as one.
Clara’s mind raced as she absently braided her length.
Perhaps she had done something the fates disagreed with? She used the Pythia’s reputation to push her way here, but Clara knew something was off the moment she asked the Pythia’s interpretation of the dream. There were few who had the gift of foresight like her, and all lived at the Ancient Isle. If anyone could have brought meaning or clarity to her chaotic mind it had to be her according to her godfather. Unlike Xenakis, she told both Romanus and King Caspian everything she had saw when she touched Elisora. Questioning her visions once more could possibly lead to danger for her family, or the remaining Xenakians. Only the Pythia could share Morpheus, the god of dreams, words to her.
With one meeting, her relationship with the Pythia was never the same. The elderly woman declared Clara a special child who saw almost as much as she. Even when Clara returned to Oceanus, the Pythia was constantly trying to reach out. The persistence felt wrong to her. It was as if a presence was pushing her away but, as a princess and a noblewoman, she had to be respectful. Other than sensing her gift, the Pythia had no real information on the Heir. Only that Clara had to go to Ouroboros as quick as she could.
“Take her words at face value, sister,” Caius said. “Elly has had her adventure, so maybe this is your chance.”
Clara snorted, rolling her eyes. Some adventure this was turning out to be. She was terrified at every turn that her neck would be snapped at any second. Isolation in a room never bothered her before, but now she was unprotected. Who knew if her tea or food would be poisoned?
And every time she thought of the Heir, her secret eye buried in her forehead burned.
Clara tilted her head down, grazing the skin above her brow.
No one but her family knew of her third eye. It only appeared when she was deep in a trance, or extremely emotional. Fear, sadness, or happiness. She had to school her emotions to the point many thought her cold or unfeeling. If only she could be. Then she wouldn’t be on edge.
The goddess Theia and Morpheus were cruel indeed. How could they bestow such a gift on her and make her hunt for the most important details?
“That is quite a sigh my lady.”
Clara turned. The Chancellor, Gavril, entered, bowing at the waist. As normal, he was dressed all in black, standing at attention like a soldier. His visits were frequent. While she didn’t trust him, he was decently kind, and it helped with her loneliness.
Prince Drakonis visited, but barely said a word. Guilt ate at her heart remembering the terrified expression in his eyes when she mentioned his inner being.
“Please call me Clara, Lord Chancellor.” She curtsied to him. After his apologies for not having pearls or shells, she had returned to her room to find gifts more beautiful that she could imagine. It was impressive that he knew such a custom greeting of Oceanus, and even more heartwarming that he would give an outsider such a greeting.
“Only if you call me Gavril.”
She would only in private. The royal family and nobles already despised her. She did not want to give them further cause.
“Has anyone caused you stress Lady Clara? I will have them disciplined immediately for offending you,” Gavril asked, sitting elegantly in a tall wingback chair.
The intensity of his words reminded her of Romanus. She smiled and shook her head.
“Not at all. I think His highness frightened Lord Valen those days ago. I hardly return to my room much either except to sleep.”
“That is not good. A lady should always prioritize her health and beauty.”
Gavril made a noise and the door of the library opened. Maids entered, with their heads lowered, to push in a tea cart.
“Join me for a break my lady.”
Servants placed small plates of honey cakes and what looked like meat before her. The meat smelled heavenly and sweet.
“This is a delicacy unique to Ouroboros. We harvest our sheep and cook it with cinnamon and nuts, then glaze it in honey. I hope it suits your palate.”
“As long as there is no human meat, I will be happy to try it.”
Gavril chuckled. Despite his hardened demeanor, he was comforting and kind.
“The taste varies all too often, so we avoid that flesh,” Gavril joked.
Clara chuckled, bringing a teacup to her lips. The hot liquid smelled full bodied. She could smell the heavenly pieces of star anise, cardamom, and ginger. Being in Oceanus, it was impossible to try such rare treats and spices.
The moment the liquid touched her lips her body warmed and her muscles relaxed.
“The highlight of my visit is the wonderful food and drink provided here. Herrlof has its charms, and Oceanus has wonderful seafood, but everything is so flavorful and warm here.”
“Yes. We are fortunate to be in an area with so many climates. Before the Great War, Emperor Konstantin conquered many lands. Through trade with those conquered lands, we have gained many new things.”
“It is impressive he did not force them to assimilate,” Clara remarked.
“Forcing them would only lead to rebellions. It is important to only make them fear us enough to work with us.”
Clara could see why Gavril was an advisor. He was truly wise.
“I couldn’t help but notice that in this very room. I saw your volcanos in the east and the forest in the west,” Clara commented.
Her eyes first moved to the ceiling fresco then back out the window. Smoke billowed from the distant mountain.
Gavril poured cream into his tea, stirring a spoon that looked like it should have belonged to a babe. Clara shifted her hips, becoming more comfortable in her tufted chair.
“Ah yes. Dragons are naturally cold-blooded. We prefer warmer climates. Our smiths typically live in the lands of Lav, that is the area of volcanoes you mentioned,” Gavril explained. “The ocean water and natural metals in stone make scavenging easy. Orman is our colorful land. It is most famous for its Dracora blossom trees, a unique golden flower tree only grown in Ouroboros. The god Pan felt our lands needed some beauty to offset the smoky gray city here and the volcanoes. It is told that Artemis was so overtaken by the beauty of our dracora blossom trees he cast his own magick on them so they would remain year-round.”
“That is beautiful,” Clara gasped.
“Indeed. They are a beautiful backdrop to our Dawning Festival after the Hunt.”
“The Hunt?” she questioned.
“Yes,” Gavril answered. “Our most notable hunters hunt wild game in our wood. Whomever can capture the rarest game is the winner. His spoils are to make the first carve or dedicate his winnings to a lady of his choice.”
“That is beautiful.”
“It is one of my favorite times of the year. I can admit is quite nice to escape the monotony of palace life to enjoy a hunt and festival.” Gavril had a small smile as he said the latter part.
“My brothers enjoy much of the same thing. And wrestling. In Oceanus we honor an Olympic tradition during our festivals. A week where Xenakians and merpeople wrestle, throw the javelin, discus throws, and chariot racing. Of course there’s also the food,” Clara chuckled into her teacup as she took another sip.
“You mention Xenakians? I have never heard of such a race,” Gavril said.
“It is not a race, my lord. Before going to Oceanus, my people yield from a southern town of Xenakis. It was destroyed by a dark sorcerer.”
“Ah yes. Sorcerers have caused quite a stir in Ipeiros as of the last century. But you maintain your traditions under the sea?”
“Sharing culture can be a beautiful thing.” Gavril took a bite out of his meat pie. His long fingers seemed too large for the delicate cutlery, but he handled it as well as any noble. “Romanus, my eldest brother, first introduced the Olympic events I told you about to the merpeople. He has recently introduced carriage riding to the gargoyles.”
Gavril arched a brow. “Gargoyles taking part in such a southern sport? Do they not despise it?”
“Oh no! My sister has taught them dance and it seems that our people and the gargoyles have much more in common. My brother has even challenged King Nordskov to a wrestling match. He lost of course, but it was so entertaining.”
Clara touched her earring, remembering the warm hug she had received. Romanus was clumsy but truly loved his family. She loved him as well, but it was quite satisfying to see him thrown around by King Nordskov.
“Mayhap we can find such similarities with you here, Clara. Maybe even showing us some of the games of your world. If the gargoyles love them, surely, we can find some sort of entertainment.”
Gavril crossed his legs, placing clasped hands on his knee. He studied her as she did him.
While she found little on the Heir, she saw many stories about Gavril. He started as a stone smith from Lav joined the imperial army and gained notoriety serving at Emperor Konstantin’s side. He was the only dragon to climb through the ranks of nobility. A victorious gem and the only one in dragon history to have his scales changed from gray to red.
She smiled at his invitation.
“It would honor me to experience such a noble event, but I am afraid it will not be possible.” She twiddled her fingers in her pink shawl, refusing to meet Gavril’s gaze. “It is very clear that your people distrust me, and I cannot blame them. But I will look in from a distance. Mayhap the chef will have pity on me and allow me a bite of the kill.”
“Nonsense. If you are worried about a dragon’s stare it is for naught. Many will be full of drink and not care about things surrounding them. If it still concerns you, it is nothing a disguise, and a command from Prince Drakonis, cannot fix.”
Clara hummed as she bit into the meat cake. It melted in her mouth, leaving delicious warmth on her tongue. Gavril seemed to know so much, maybe she could have his help.
“Lord Gavril, may I ask a question?”
“Ask me anything, princess. I cannot promise I can answer it, but I will try.” Clara appreciated his honesty. The man reminded her a little of King Nordskov in his straightforward manner.
“While your library has a great number of books and scrolls, there is little information on your kind’s ancestry, or Phaedrus. Am I mistaken?”
Gavril paused, his dark gray eyes looking over at her from above his teacup.
“Most of our history are verbally passed down,” he started, placing his teacup on the wooden table. “I will have to check with his majesty, but I can see what he holds in his personal library. If he gives permission, I will bring you all that I can.”
“The Emperor’s personal library?”
“Yes, Princess. The Emperor controls everything in Ouroboros, including the type of information that reaches the masses.”
Censorship wasn’t a foreign concept, but it was prevalent here. In Herrlof, gargoyles cared about survival and trades, with no interest in studying, but in Xenakis and Oceanus being a scholar was encouraged. Their father, Alexandrios, was rigorous in training her and her siblings’ intellectual gifts, building on them.
“I thank you, Lord. I truly wish to help the continent, so anything is better than nothing,” Clara said with a forced smile.
He nodded.
The movement happened so fast. Both Gavril and Clara reached for a bread when their fingers brushed together. Clara suddenly did not see the world around her. Everything was in black and gray, flickering with every movement she saw.
Gavril sat at a table with the royal family, drinking from a goblet. In moments he was scratching at his throat and being carried away by soldiers. Panic surrounded her.
Things changed. Prince Drakonis was in front of her, angry, and clearly grief stricken. His words were muted but a ghostly glow gathered at his glazed eyes.
Gavril was lifeless as he laid in a grand four-poster bed. The royal family surrounded him, and the empress wailed in despair.
A black horned snake wrapped itself around the bed, its eyes looking right at her like blood diamonds. It opened its mouth, revealing saber teeth, venom dripping from his tongue.
“Princess? Princess!”
Clara jumped from her chair and held her forehead. She could feel the creases above the middle of the eye. The lash-less crease of the lid and the bump of the bottom lid. She bent over, willing it to go away.
Why did the fates show her this now? Was Gavril to die?
But he was a kind man, loyal to the crown. Why would someone want to kill him?
“Princess?”
Clara looked over her shoulder, her hand still covering her forehead. In the distant mirror, she could see golden light filling her eyes and trying to escape her fingers.
“Are you alright?” Gavril asked. His head tilted; his palm pressed against her shoulder.
“Yes,” she coughed standing up. Please go away, she chanted in her mind. “Y-yes, I’m fine. My apologies for my uncouth actions.”
The adrenaline filling her body was draining. Perhaps it was time to get out of the library for a walk.
“Please do not apologize. I only wish for your good health,” Gavril said.
“I would like some fresh air. Is there a garden I’m allowed to go to?”
Gavril’s slate eyes were studying her. The longer she looked at them, the more flecks of red she could see in his irises.
“I will get Alastair to go with you. There are few I would trust in the castle. He is wild and uncouth, but I will swear on my honor you will be safe.”
Clara nodded. Her forehead became flat once more, and she removed her hand. Everything in her was pushing her to return to Oceanus. To safety. But she couldn’t. Not until she found the Heir. Not until she could do what she could to protect her family.
Gavril approached the double doors. Just as he was pulling the lever Clara spoke.
“Lord Gavril…You…” She swallowed and spoke with her back facing him. “I’m sure you are aware but…please be careful of your surroundings. Especially during your meals.”
She waited for him to question her. This was why she touched no one. She saw things she did not want, and it made people frightened of her. Prince Drakonis’s words echoed in her mind.
Don’t trust me. Don’t trust anyone in the castle.
“It has been quite taxing going to the dining room each night. A quiet dinner in my room sounds nice from time to time.”
Tears threatened to leave her face. The one dragon that had been kind to her had to have such a fate.
“I find being alone in my thoughts, helps me relax. I’m sure it would give you time for hobbies.”
She could not force a change in his future, but maybe he could change his routine, thus changing his own future. He was intelligent enough that the emperor trusted him. Would he be able to understand what she wasn’t saying?
“I have been doing quite a bit of reading as of late,” Gavril said. He smiled and bowed. Clara curtsied back wishing he would leave and stay at the same time. Gods she was so tired of seeing death. And seeing Drakonis look so pained made her heart ache. It was the same pain she had when she lost her father.
With the soft click of the doors closing she held her shaking hands to her breast, breathing, and hoping what the fates showed her would not come anytime soon.