16. Clara
16
CLARA
C lara lifted her head from the delicate teacup to the sky. A grand roar shook the skies. Purple lightning cracked with red rain following.
“What was that?” she muttered.
“One of my sons is victorious,” Empress Yelena said, smiling into her tea.
The Empress was an elegant woman. Up close she looked like a doll with perfect high cheekbones, upturned chestnut eyes with pale moonlit skin, kissed by mauve scales. Her smile was demure, her heart shaped lips expressing her emotion without teeth. Her golden stola was overlaid with an intense violet palla, crossing at her bosom and belted under her breast with jewels. An oversized jeweled collar hung on her swanlike neck, with pearls and diamonds falling in drops over her collarbone. Light brown hair was half pulled back tightly with purple silk intertwined in her hair and falling from a rectangular crown with the same gems as her necklace.
“I congratulate you, your eminence.” Clara nodded her head as she spoke. “You must be proud.”
“They are not my accomplishments,” she answered. Her eyebrow arched as she smiled. “If you are presented the kill then it would be the greatest honor. If it is my son, then it could mean he has sincere…affection. Something that all the noble women here desire.”
Please gods let it not be Kazimir. Clara’s hand felt like she had dipped it in algae after Kazimir’s kiss. He had vowed to dedicate his victory to her and was quite confident. Drakonis, the dragon she came for, never did more than make eye contact with her. She forced a smile. Please gods let it not be Kazimir.
“How did this hunt begin?” Clara asked changing the subject.
“In the later years of Phaedrus’s reign, it was started. The one who can kill the most powerful prey is praised as a reincarnation of Phaedrus. The one that our people believe can take on the gods and lead us to peace.”
“And women cannot participate?”
“Goodness no.” Yelena’s eyes widened. “Women are meant to be the anchors for the men. Presenting a kill to a lady happened after Phaedrus. A previous emperor used it to propose to his empress.”
She could see why they would wish for one of the princes to present their kill to them.
“This is a lot different than what Lord Gavril described.”
As Yelena described the nuances of the Hunt, she could feel the heavy gaze of the surrounding noblewomen. All that tried to approach were brushed away by Empress Yelena and, since her meeting with Drakonis in the royal library, women were quick to shut her out when it came to the princes. She did not miss the sneers and insults If she had not given Drakonis her word, she would have left ages ago.
“This Hunt is important to our people. When our kind were cast out of Olympus, Phaedrus did what he did to provide, especially for the women and children. He led the warriors to build the foundations of Ouroboros. It is through the animals and plants we ate that we established our finest cuisines and it is with full bellies we were able to make the music and dance that is done throughout the Dawning Festival.”
“It’s a reminder of where you come from,” Clara added.
“Indeed,” Yelena answered. “Tell me, how has your stay been, my Dear?”
“I have been working diligently, your majesty,” Clara answered. This stay had been unexpected in many ways. This mission to find the Heir a lot more complex than she had imagined. She thought she would be meeting people and reading in archives and libraries. Not she had led funeral rites and was actively participating in a festival to celebrate culture. Clara would be miss Ouroboros when it was time to leave. “I do not expect to stay much longer.”
She looked at the pink tea. It was pale but reminded her of a rose’s first bloom. The aroma carried with it a light, yet floral smell. It was easy to drink, the flavors dancing exquisitely on her tongue.
Would it be possible that Drakonis would miss her when it was time?
“You are close to finding the Heir then?”
Not even close .
The voices of the Drakaina haunted her even in sleep. When she laid in bed, she could have sworn she could feel the horned serpent wrapped around her. Either Hades, or Phaedrus, had to be guiding her to the Heir. His face was still a blur but with every dream more of himself would be revealed. Clara had her guess, but she could not be irresponsible. Visions could lead to dangerous actions.
“There are so many here with magnanimous appeal. I do not know how Phaedrus can choose only one.”
Yelena smirked, laying her hand on the circular tea table. Her fingers clicked as they thumped.
“Gavril said you were quite charming. I see innocence in your eyes.” Clara smiled back. She pushed her shoulders back, forcing herself to remember every etiquette lesson she had learned. “It may be why he had you perform his funeral rites.”
A shadow fell over Yelena’s eyes. It was the same one that she had seen on Drakonis’s face, and the one that was absent from Kazimir’s. She may have been focused on her ceremony, but she did not miss the way the noble prince’s indifference.
“Gavril was important to this kingdom.”
“He was important to our family,” Yelena corrected. “He did much for the country, but he protected my boys like they were his own, and the emperor as a brother, and I like…” she took a pause, staring into her cup. “A dear friend.”
Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. Yelena had her face covered in a veil almost the entire time but fell to her knees when Gavril took his final breath. Yelena’s reaction made her remember her sister when she was torn away from her mate. Could Yelena and Gavril…?
“He was kind to me always. He provided me with what I needed and was accommodating. More than I expected,” Clara said.
“He trusted you. It is not something he gave to other easily.” The shadow of sorrow was replaced now. Her upturned eyes narrowed, the thin brows above them furrowing. “When Drakonis told me he had invited you I was eager to speak to you one on one.” The way Yelena studied her was reminiscent of Drakonis the first time they were alone together.
“What would you like to know?” Clara pressed.
“Where do you yield from?”
“The city is no more. It was a town, a half days walk from the ocean in the south, named Xenakis. It was a beautiful place of knowledge and culture where men and women of the cloth lived. We had weavers, smiths, and merchants.”
“Oceanus is not on land?” Her voice lilted at the question.
“It is not, your majesty. Oceanus became my home when an enemy…guised as a friend destroyed it.” He was a man she knew was horrible but did not do more to warn the Xenakians. “He unleashed a great evil on our home and destroyed it. My brothers, sister, and I were taken in and adopted by King Caspian. Out of love for us he took in our people for protection.”
“That is a sad story.” Clara forced a smile.
“The Fates sometimes play the cruelest games. I like to think that out of the destruction, our people will become reborn. Mayhap, we will be greater than below.”
“Such an optimistic view of the world. Our people once thought the same when we were reborn from the Underworld.” The mauve scales stood out on her skinny arms, looking like she was born with jewels on her body. Sunlight reflected off some as she moved her palm under her chin. “Had my son not been tainted so young he might have been like you or benefitted from knowing a flower like you.”
“I am honored your majesty. Unfortunately, I do not think my brothers could bear letting me go since my sister was so recently married.”
She did not want to dwell on the ‘he’ the empress spoke of. Kazimir was as pompous and narcissistic as the nobles of Oceanus. Touching him brought her nothing but darkness, an unfortunate peak into his future. Drakonis…she just did not want to dwell on it. He was immensely attractive. Cunning, and foolish, but was kind and loyal. Try as she could, she couldn’t help watching him when he was in the same room. When he would smile at her, her body became hot, and she fought the giddiness at his compliments.
What truly stuck out is when she touched him, she felt…nothing. No darkness. No visions. The eye buried in her forehead stayed sleeping. When Drakonis fell to his woes, and she held him, she felt like a normal person. The quiet let her enjoy human affection the way she desired. Even if he was grieving, she felt happy. It was selfish and something she could never truly admit. Was it the desire for normalcy that drew her to him?
“Ah yes. Your elder sister is Queen of the North, yes?”
She pushed back her thoughts. She would think on it later.
“Elisora Nordskov. Yes madam.”
“Funny that someone from the ocean depths would capture the heart of a gargoyle.” Yelena mused. Clara fought back her response. She knew bits of her sister’s past with Ragnar Nordskov, but nothing worth mentioning. Unfortunately, it was only her future with him that she knew in detail.
Yelena stared her down until crowds began cheering. Jesters threw sticks of white and blue fire while others threw colored paper. Numerous soldiers, too many to count, carried a platform with a giant monster with reddish scales. Limbs were piled on each other with the massive head sitting at the top. Clara’s eyes widened. THAT was the creature all these dragons were hunting?
Yelena had said the person who slayed it would be the victor, but which prince would it be?
Balls of smoky red and gold shot from the woods, flashing magical light.
With deep purple and black wings, Drakonis shot from the tree line, corkscrewing down, landing on the balls of his feet in front of the kill. Women snapped their fans shut and cheered. Some noblemen stood, clapping at the victory, while others stood, clapping but clearly not in enthusiasm.
Clara was more taken by his appearance. She was so used to him being fully covered in silk and jewels, that it was shocking to see him in a half ripped kymu , His under robes almost nonexistent. His chiseled, squared pecs gleamed in sweat, while raised amethyst scales lined each defined abdominal muscle, continuing below the black batluns that sat low on his waist. The left sleeve was torn off, while the other remained from his shoulder to the bottom of his forearm. His black hair was wild, caked in the same dark green blood that spattered across his body.
“Drakonis will now dedicate his kill.” Clara jumped at the hot breath against her ear. The empress placed her hands on each of her arms, sliding them down to her wrists.
His icy eyes showered the crowd. Drakonis was all smiles and waving at the rambunctious crowd. Alastair, injured and dirty just as Drakonis, was by his side, sliding his arm over his shoulders and laughing. Clara barely registered anything around her. She could hear that Empress Yelena was speaking, but she could not tell you what she said.
Drakonis met her gaze and the world seemed to slow. He brushed off Alastair, and his smile grew more than before. Cheers were drowned out by the rushing blood rushing through her ears. His very being kept her enchanted, as did the white aura surrounding his body. Fierce silver eyes watched her just as closely. Ones that were equally familiar and foreign.
Drakonis mouthed words that she could not interpret. Instinct pushed her to nod.
A toothy smile, like the sun itself, came over his face.
The crowd’s roar became louder as the emperor approached the dais in the center of the garden. The soldiers laid the monster on the ground, at the emperor’s feet.
“The gods have chosen our winner!” Emperor Konstantin bellowed. “Prince Drakonis Isaurian Aslanov, you will approach!”
The emperor had a complicated expression on his face. He looked proud, but troubled. His eyes moved up, alerted when he watched Kazimir emerge from the wood. He was not as ostentatious as before the hunt began. He was the picture of confidence and pride before he departed. Now he looked like all the others: dirty, clothes amiss, and hair mussed. She would never pick him out in a crowd. Without his finery he was simple like all others. The only thing that made him stand out was his grim look. Thin lips, narrowed eyes, and sneer as Drakonis bent at the knee in front of Konstantin.
“Pay him no mind,” Yelena whispered in Clara’s ear. “You will only gain ire and be the subject of jealousy.”
Jealousy? There was no one that she would inspire jealousy from.
Her eyes left Kazimir, as the empress commanded, but as they grazed the noblewomen her heart stilled. If Drakonis had the kill that would mean he would present it to a lady. The lady chosen could become a princess. But they had seen him mouth words to her. Had seen her nod.
Is this going to happen the way I think?
“You bring honor to not only your family, but to dragon-kind.”
“Thank you, father,” Drakonis answered. “To honor the ancestors, I bestow my enemies’ heart,” Drakonis commanded Alastair who knelt beside him, one leg on the ground and the other bent where his head touched his knee. He stood up long enough to place a heart the size of one of the tables at the emperor’s feet. “And for myself, I dedicate my kill to a lady.”
The hands at Clara’s sides were empty, but in one of them, the empress pressed something soft. Clara grabbed on.
Drakonis stood at his full height. His eyes met hers again. The world moved slow, and her pulse fast once more. Her feet were frozen.
“He will ask you to accept the kill. If you agree then you will tie this around the blade of his sword.”
Clara was incapable of speech. She was trying to use all her years of control to school the emotions on her face. Hundreds of eyes were on her as Drakonis approached, towering over her by at least three heads. Yelena stepped away, leaving her oddly cold.
She would be a fool to do this. This would give everyone the wrong impression of what Drakonis was to her. What was he thinking?
She was simultaneously thrilled and frightened.
“Princess Clara Katsaros. Will you do me the honor of accepting my prey?”
His eyes sparkled and flashed colors. She opened her mouth, but words would not come out. He had been so kind lately. But he was kind to everyone.
“Why?” she whispered. She did not want to deny him publicly, but it a question she needed to know the answer to.
“Because” Drakonis whispered. “You saw me.”
Her arms burned at the memory when she held him in his grief. But she had told him she could not see him.
“I-I am not worthy,” she muttered. She did not realize she said it aloud until Drakonis had answered her.
The smile she admired returned. Up close he looked boyish and without shadow.
“Are all oracles this stubborn?”
Her insecurity melted away at the familiar question. She chuckled and clutched the softness in her hand. The emperss said all she needed to do what tie this around his blade?
It was as if Drakonis read her mind. He raised his curved blade, curling it down so she would not nick herself.
The softness was a silk ivory handkerchief with simple embroidered dracora blossoms. She stepped closer. Beneath the grime and blood, she could smell the woodland scent that was uniquely him.
She tied the handkerchief and stepped back. Drakonis grabbed her hand, just as he had done in the wood. This time he bowed to her as he kissed her knuckles.
“I am immensely honored your highness.”
Cheers erupted everywhere. Colorful fireworks shot through the sky drawing people’s attention away. Drakonis squeezed her hand, stepping closer.
Clara stared at their link. A blush stained her cheeks as she squeezed back.
Clara’s heart was hammering as she approached her room. Today she would not look for Phaedrus but meditate. Her feelings felt so out of control, she could not focus on anything.
When she got behind the door, she pressed her back to it, exhaling loudly, chuckling at the end.
That wasn’t real, was it? Prince Drakonis did not just dedicate his hunt to her.
Because you saw me.
Those words sunk deep within her heart. He was the one that avoided her at all costs and gave her just enough courtesy expected of his rank. Now he was giving her access to the royal library, acting like a Prince of fairy tales, and acting as if he was courting her.
“He’s just showing gratitude,” she mumbled to herself, pushing herself off the door. “That’s all it is.”
His gratitude would help her find the Heir then she would leave. She would either live in Herloff or go back to Oceanus. They would be friendly acquaintances who would not see each other until another war broke out.
These would all be happy memories.
Knock knock
“My lady,” a muffled woman said. “We have a delivery for you.”
“Come in.” She hoped her voice didn’t break. She brushed imaged dust from her clothes and stood as graceful as possible.
Two maids opened the double doors. Two stewards entered carrying an oversized marble vase with glittery gold veining, and most beautiful bouquet of pink roses mixed with branches of dracora blossoms.
“What is this?” she questioned.
“There is a note my lady.” The four bowed and exited as quickly as they entered.
Clara approached the vase and smelled the florals. The roses were as large as her hand and the blossoms were soft as silk. A small scroll tied with a ribbon sat at the base. Clara untied and read it.
Allow me the honor of escorting you around the festival.
- D
Clara shook her head. Even with all her control, she could not stop the smile on her face. Elisora had always received gifts and bouquets from admirers, but had she ever? Most would speak to her then become frightened. After all, who would want to be around a woman that could see their future? She was a woman that romance was wasted on. It was only her family that understood.
She collapsed on her bed, reading the short sentence again. The paper crumbled as she pressed it against her chest.
She should be getting close to no one while she was here. Humans, especially priestesses, were not welcomed. Even a fool could sense the dangerous shadows that lurked around the corner.
She placed her palm over her forehead and eye, running it up through her hair.
Her family and future relied on her learning what the Fates had in store. The world as it was depended on her to find the Heir. It was becoming a pressing matter for the dragons. Every day since she had arrived to Ouroboros she had been diligent in fulfilling this task. But maybe, just this one day, she could let go. And just be a normal woman. Not a messenger of the gods. Not the freak who saw things people didn’t want her to see. Just her. Just Clara.