14. Disruption #3
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and slid down, feet sinking into the velvety carpet. Turning to my window, I drew the heavy fur curtains back an inch, revealing a darkening sky. I’d slept the whole damn day away.
It’ll be getting close to supper, I remarked absently. I should get dressed.
The Shadow snapped to attention, spikes of alarm poking at my mind. Someone’s coming, she whispered. The sudden tug in my chest explained why she sounded so leery.
“And these are the queen’s rooms,” Corbyn’s voice came from the corridor, distinct to my sharp hearing.
“There are two entrances to the antechamber. One here”—a door opened, and the two dragons stepped into the small bedroom adjoining mine—“and this one here, which leads directly into the queen’s chambers.
We sleep in shifts of three hours, and post in the corridor. ”
Trygg grunted in response. “And we alert through the skipta if there’s danger?”
“It’s the quickest way. That trunk there is yours for anything you want to keep here. Easier than running back and forth to your chambers all night.” Corbyn’s voice sounded strained.
The Shadow ruffled slightly. Now would be an excellent opportunity to speak to them about last night, don’t you think?
A mother hen, this one.
Yes, yes, alright .
I moved forward before I could change my mind. When I pulled the door to the antechamber open, the two dragons spun around, surprise evident on their faces. Their capes whirled with the movement.
“No need to be alarmed,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “I wondered if you might join me for a chat.”
They looked at each other for a tense moment and I got the feeling they were silently communicating. It annoyed me more than it had any right to.
Corbyn inclined his head. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He stepped into the room, scarlet fabric swishing on the stone floor.
Trygg followed, his broad form filling the doorframe. As I pushed the door closed behind them, his arm brushed against mine. Quick as a snake strike, the darkthread seized to the point of breaking.
Fuck’s sake, I hissed, gritting my teeth against the pain. The realization hit like a punch to the gut.
Well, the Shadow said, her voice labored, I think we can now safely say what’s causing these shifts.
You mean who it is.
I braced against the door, trying to catch my breath. My back arched from the pressure in my chest. Like the myrkva attack after the funeral, the darkthread was about to snap, and I didn’t know if I could stop it.
Corbyn’s eyes narrowed the moment he looked at me. “Are you alright, my lady?” he questioned, taking a few tentative steps forward.
I held a hand up to stop him. Trygg was looking at me now too. Their scrutiny burned like hot coals, and I squeezed my eyes shut to escape it.
“I’ll be alright. Give me a moment,” I ground out, sucking in a deep breath. It took only a few seconds for my breathing to even, and then it was just a matter of focusing long enough to allow my pulse to slow. The silence stretched out interminably as the Shadow moved in her own calming rhythms.
Finally, the darkthread relaxed, releasing my terror along with it. I exhaled heavily and opened my eyes. The two dragonmen stood stock still, eyes wide with some mixture of confusion, concern, and fear. My gaze landed on Trygg, who didn’t seem to be physically affected. It didn’t make any sense.
“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice croaking. “My apologies.”
“This isn’t normal, is it?” Trygg asked.
I shot him a glare as he looked to his kinsman. Seeing the iron set of the prince’s jaw and his pointed look, Corbyn shook his head.
The dragon prince’s eyes flashed like sword steel. “What’s going on?” His deep voice reverberated off the stone walls. The darkthread quivered again.
“It’s nothing,” I insisted. My control was waning, and the Shadow’s panic rose in response.
“And I think you’re lying.” The icy edge to his tone sent a chill through my bones. Bold words to a queen. “If this has anything to do with your little display last night, we have every right to know if the woman we’re supposed to be protecting has no control over her power.”
He certainly was impertinent. But he was also right, and that was enough to douse my temper.
He has no idea that it’s him.
It would seem so, the Shadow agreed.
These shifts didn’t start until he arrived, I said, working through the reasoning for my own benefit. If he senses anything at all, he’s hiding it incredibly well. What is it about him? You’ve lived with dragons your entire life, Shadow.
Dragons, yes, she rumbled. Royal dragons? No.
He still stared pointedly, fierce gray eyes boring into me with relentless focus.
“There’s…” My mind scrambled for an answer—any excuse that would pass.
“There’s a lot I still have to learn,” I finally said, my shoulders dropping.
“I wanted to speak to you both about last night. To apologize.” It seemed I’d done nothing but apologize since last night. First to Corbyn, and now this.
I pushed away from the door, straightening up. Despite my embarrassment and confusion, I had to regain my composure. Corbyn shifted his weight nervously. Trygg remained rooted to the spot, thickly muscled arms crossed over his chest.
“I don’t know what Talon Arlbright has apprised you of today, Talon Trygg,” I began, eyeing them both in turn. “There have been a lot of changes in Kjarra lately. Not least of which being my power.” I brushed a piece of blanched hair from my eyes.
He looked me up and down and something glinted in his eye. My skin warmed under his appraisal. It… it was nice. My stomach churned at the thought, and the memory of how the same attentions from Lukas mere hours ago had felt uncomfortable.
“Yes, he mentioned something to that effect,” Trygg replied.
I rolled my shoulders to rid myself of the unwelcome emotions.
“Well, there is a difference in knowing how to do something and putting that knowledge into practice,” I continued, choosing my words carefully.
“I imagine you were not born knowing how to fly. You had to learn, didn’t you?
” They both nodded slowly. “In much the same way, there are still certain things I have to learn about my power, and about being Queen. What happened last night was an accident, and I want to assure you both that I’ll do everything in my power to keep it from happening again. ”
They were all half-truths. Carefully constructed masks to conceal the reality hidden beneath. But they seemed to do the job, regardless. Corbyn let out a long breath and Trygg’s shoulders relaxed as he uncrossed his arms. A little of the tension between us ebbed away as my heart continued to race.
Even if I’d placated them for now, I had a feeling this would not be the last occurrence. I needed to find out what it was about him that was causing these “shifts.”
Corbyn ran a hand through his reddish-brown hair, mussing his normally polished exterior. “Were you able to find the answers to your questions at the Temple, my lady?” he asked.
I nodded, thankful for the change in conversation but nervous about how they would react.
The truth of the assassin’s identity was not something I wanted to become widespread knowledge.
Still, they needed to know what they might be facing.
Or facing again, in Corbyn’s case. Lightwing asked me to share what I found out, so I would share it with them. I’d worry about telling her later.
“I’ll cut straight to it,” I said, looking between them. “We are dealing with something beyond any of our understanding. The assassin that murdered my mother is a huathe —a celestial servant of the gods.”
They both stared at me blankly, neither shock nor disbelief on their faces.
“A… huathe ?” Trygg asked, his mouth stumbling over the word.
I directed my gaze at Corbyn. “They often take the form of golden owls.”
“The wings,” he muttered darkly, his brows drawing close together.
The prince shot his companion a sidelong look. “A man having wings is no evidence of divinity,” he said, shrugging. “The two of us are proof enough of that.”
“No, but his ability to control me might be,” Corbyn said.
Trygg fell into thoughtful silence, his gaze downcast.
“After my supper engagement, I’ll tell you where we go from here.” As if summoned, the door to the corridor swung open and my lady’s maid came into the room.
“Your Majesty,” she said, dipping into a curtsy, “do you need assistance preparing for supper?”
I nodded to her. “If you’ll draw a bath, Siva, I’ll be along shortly.
” She curtsied again, then scurried to the bathing room in the far corner of my chambers.
I turned back to the dragons, forcing softness onto my features.
“Again, I am sorry for any fear I may have caused. If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for my meeting. ”
As I turned for the bathing room, their eyes followed me. My skin tingled, but I kept my gaze forward. I couldn’t let them see how almost losing control in front of them had shaken me.
Was this the reason the Council had sent a prince to become my Talon?
Did Lightwing know of some strange effect his royal blood would have on me?
It might explain why he’d volunteered for the position in the first place.
I was on guard now, and if the Council of Ancients truly was working with the huathe assassin, they’d want me weak and vulnerable for his next attack.
Maybe that was the real reason Trygg was here.
I wanted to rage and curse at the circumstances, but there was nothing I could do.
I’d only lived with the Shadow and the darkthread for a little more than a week; there was so much I still had to learn about using this power.
But even if I’d lived with her for decades, could I have stopped the prince’s effect on me?
I couldn’t answer that question. The Shadow was an enigma, and a dangerous one at that.
Mother once told me about the early days of our house, and the unstable relationship between humans and Shifters after the end of the Drakon War.
There were many incidents in the years following the signing of the treaty, when rogue dragons attacked humans unprovoked.
One such instance had turned into a siege, with the enemy Shifters holing themselves up in the ruins of a village they’d razed to the ground.
Queen Magga the First, the daughter of Bridja Falk, rode out to deal with them herself.
By all accounts, the affair was settled quickly.
But the losses had been great. Magga used the power of the darkthread—as her mother did to end the war—and raised a small battalion of reanimated corpses from the slaughtered victims. But she hadn’t known how to fully control them, and when the draugr were done sucking the life from the Shifters, they’d turned on the queen’s soldiers.
Stepping into the steamy heat of the bathing chamber, I shuddered as I remembered the cautionary tale. Whatever the reason, this prince was weakening my hold on my power, a failing I absolutely couldn’t afford. The cost of allowing it to continue would be innocent lives.
A price I was not willing to pay.