Dragon Thief

“I want to be different from him,” I said.

  “What?” Even not looking at the Dark Lord, I could feel it deflate a bit.

  “I don’t want to be him, and I don’t want to serve you.”

  And just like that, the presence receded and the mists withdrew. I felt the air go cold again and I was back in Lysea’s garden, in front of her temple. A small vortex of red mist and wrongness remained at the base of the stairs to Lysea’s temple, and the more human-form Nâtlac stood within it.

  “Well played, Frank Blackthorne.”

  “Uh—” Now I was left somewhat nonplussed. I had expected more pushback from an angry deity.

  His smile was still full of spiders. “The jewel was not wrong. You can take the same horse down many different paths. Unlike Prince Bartholomew, though, yours seems not to lead toward me.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Fair warning, Frank Blackthorne, we are not parting amicably. You have made an enemy.”

  “I expect so.”

  “You should consider if the blubbering idiot in your hand was worth it,” the Dark Lord said, vanishing in a swirl of red mist and unease.

  I looked at Snake, who appeared to have completely withdrawn from the proceedings, shaking, weeping, burying his face into the scales of my fingers.

  “No. He isn’t.”

  But it was never about him anyway.

  CHAPTER 36

  In the end, Dermonica got Snake Bartholomew to do with as they wished and Lendowyn got a peace treaty that removed Dermonica troops from their soil. While Lendowyn had lost the services of most of the Grünwald defectors—aside from a handful like Sir Forsythe—Snake’s attempted coup had damaged Grünwald’s military to a point where it wouldn’t be a threat for years. Lendowyn Castle was a mess. And, after all the foreign forces took their cut of Snake’s loot, the treasury sat nearly empty.

  But what else was new?

  The girls stayed, and Lucille honored my offer to employ them. For some reason she had inherited my sensitivity to having retainers she could trust.

  And, yeah, I was still a dragon.

  Worse, sometime after I had crashed into the forest, I lost track of the Tear of Nâtlac. So I really was stuck. With Snake and Lucille back in their respective bodies, waiting a year and a day wouldn’t do anything, and even someone dying wouldn’t undo things.

  Then again, even if I still had the Tear, what would I do with it? If I wore it, would I switch with Snake again? Snake the dragon wasn’t a good idea. And if I didn’t swap with Snake . . . was anyone else in this lizard skin a good idea?

  So I camped out in the dragon’s old lair while they worked to fix the castle. I spent my time healing and trying to resign myself to my fate. I told myself that I had adjusted to being a princess, I could adjust to this.

  Of course, I hadn’t adjusted to being a princess, which was why this had all happened in the first place.

  • • •

  I don’t know how long I’d been sulking and licking my wounds when she came. I just opened my eyes, and there Lucille was, standing in the mouth of the dragon’s cave, backlit by a rosy sunrise.

  I groaned.

  She walked down from the entrance. “How are you doing?”

  I sighed, and the sound rumbled the ground beneath me.

  “That well?”

  I rolled on my side and snaked my neck so I could see her better. “I think I know how you felt after you dive-bombed all those Grünwald archers.”

  She smiled weakly. “Don’t forget Elhared and that damn sword.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll heal.”

  “I know.”

  “Thank you.”

  I snorted. It was a half chuckle, half sob. “For what? It was my screw up—”

  “Thank you for coming back.”

  “What else was I going to do?”

  “Assume Snake’s identity. Find his treasure. Buy a small kingdom.” I don’t know what it said about me that I’d never thought of that. She paced in front of me, slowly turning around the lair. “This is where we first met.”

  “I know . . .”

  “I remember thinking you were sort of a pathetic hero.”

  “I guess I am.”

  “No!” She spun around to face me. “You’re not!”

  “Come on. Look at the mess I’ve made of things—”

  “Would you please stop with the self-pity?”

  I opened my mouth, and closed it as confused wisps of smoke curled out of my nostrils.

  “I know you don’t like lords and titles and nobility—”

  “What does that have to do—”

  “Please shut up.”

  I shut up.

  “You might not like it, but you’re in that role now. And when you say the lords and nobles aren’t any better than anyone else, you’re right. We’re human. You’re human.”

  “Um—”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We all make mistakes. The difference is our mistakes affect whole kingdoms. The kind of noble you despise, the kind of noble Prince Bartholomew was, simply disregards the consequences of the power they wield. But you don’t, even when you try and give it up.” She walked up to me and placed her hand on my nose. “You could be a great prince.”

  “I never wanted to be a prince.”

  “I didn’t choose to be a princess either.”

  “And I’m still a dragon.”

  “I know how that feels.”

  “And I’m sorry.”

  “I told you to stop with the self-pity.”

  “No, Lucille. I’m sorry that I’ve stolen your body. Again.”

  Her smile froze and she shook her head, patting my nose. “This was never my body, really.”

  “But Crumley—”

  “Never mind that. I’m in my own body now.”

  “—he said you had grown beyond it.”

  She wiped her eyes and turned around. “Come on. Yes, I miss it a little. Who wouldn’t? You must see why I liked being the dragon now, don’t you?”

  “Not really.”

  “What?” She sounded genuinely shocked. “You hated being the princess.”

  “I found it annoying, but it’s much more Frank Blackthorne than a fifty-ton lizard could be.” I raised a taloned hand and flexed my fingers. “I don’t see me picking any pockets.”

  “You really would prefer being the princess to being the dragon?”

  “As if we had a choice.” I sighed.

  “You’re serious.” She turned back to face me. “You’re really serious.”

  “Lucille, if I could trade you back, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  “I was sure that once you felt the power. By the gods, the ability to fly—”

  “The height makes me nauseous.”

  “I can’t imagine not preferring it.”

  “That’s why you make the better dragon.”

  She looked down and shook her head. Something happened to her smile; it had simultaneously become more genuine, and much slyer. “Daddy is going to be so angry at me,” she whispered.

  Before I could say anything, she pulled a familiar evil-looking gem from the folds in her chemise and started putting the chain around her neck.

  “No, wait! That’s a really bad—”

  The world exploded around me, spun 180 degrees and I finished saying, “idea,” in Lucille’s voice before the disorientation dropped me to her knees. My head throbbed and the cavern spun around me, and it was an effort not to puke up a breakfast I hadn’t eaten.

  I blinked the blur from my eyes and looked up to see a huge dragon’s skull lift off the ground, point at the cavern ceiling, and roar, “Yes!” while spraying flame across the ceiling. br />
  The single syllable slammed daggers into my throbbing head, so I could only imagine what she felt as she grabbed the sides of her own head and moaned, slamming her nose into the ground in front of me.

  “OOOOooooooooohhhh.”

  I pushed myself up off the ground and stumbled back and sat down on a rock. “That was a stupid stunt!”

  “Ugh. I was excited,” she tried to whisper into the ground.

  “I’m not talking about yelling.”

  “I know,” she said to the ground while she rubbed her skull.

  I rubbed my own temples in sympathy. “That was as bad an idea as it was for me to wear this jewel in the first place.”

  She raised her head to look at me. The way she tilted her head marked her instantly as Lucille. “Then we’re even.”

  “Where in the seven hells did you get it?”

  “From that boyish girl, Krys.”

  “She had it?!” My head throbbed at the force of my words.

  “She asked me to give it back to you. To tell you, ‘You were right.’”

  About something, at least. I sighed. “And what made you think that would even work?”

  “After the body you were born with . . . It’s where the soul feels most comfortable.”

  I could see the pain in her body language. I remembered all the wounds I’d been feeling and imagined what that must be like after the onslaught of the nasty head trolls that came with the jewel’s transfer. Despite all that, I could tell she was genuinely happy.

  “And what if this undoes itself in a year and a day?”

  She shrugged with a wince. “You get another chance to be the dragon.”

  CHAPTER 37

  I left Lucille in the lair to sleep off her injuries, and as I descended the cliff face she began snoring. I had nearly reached the ground when I realized that she had gotten her revenge on me. I was the one left to tell her father what had just happened.

  I wondered if there were any new diplomatic missions to faraway lands that needed a royal accompaniment.

  Waiting below were six armored figures and seven horses. I walked over to Krys.

  “You stole the Tear of Nâtlac?”

  “Frank?” she asked.

  “What do you think?”

  Around me I heard a couple of the other girls giggling. Before I could say anything, Krys turned to them and said, “Stop that!”

  “Why?” I asked.

  She turned to me, looking sheepish. “You know why.”

  “But you didn’t use it.”

  “I couldn’t in the middle of the fighting. And, after, I had time to think about it. You were right.”

  “I’m glad my bad example is good for something.”

  Mary walked over and squeezed Krys’s shoulder. “That, and She wouldn’t like us using that thing.”

  “Who wouldn’t?” I asked. “Lucille?”

  “Come on, Princess Frank,” Grace said, “Let’s get you back to your castle.”

  • • •

  I still felt disoriented from finding myself back in the princess’s body, so I passively noticed things about my handmaid’s escort without really paying much attention. They had all kept the hairstyle that they’d received at the Temple of Lysea, albeit without the flower garland. In Grace’s case, she had replaced the garland with a brass circlet with an engraved floral pattern.

  They also, for the first time, wore armor that seemed designed to fit them. The leather seemed of better quality than Lendowyn could typically afford, and was embossed with more of the winding floral motif. And they all seemed to have adopted a badge; every one of them had a red cloth embroidered with a single white rose.

  I remember thinking that it wasn’t a bad idea for their group to have their own heraldic mark if they were serving in a royal court, but the flower motif seemed at odds with what I knew about them. A dagger cleaving a human skull seemed more their speed.

  Lendowyn Castle was in better shape than I had left it. Workers had cleared most of the wreckage of the battle, and people worked on repairing the section of the castle where I had fallen. Apparently more had remained in the treasury than I had thought.

  Grace escorted me inside, leaving the others to take care of the horses. “Your chambers weren’t damaged in the battle,” she said.

  “I guess we should count our blessings,” I whispered to myself, my head still spinning, wondering how so much could happen and still leave me in the same place we started.

  Grace touched my hand, and said without a trace of irony, “Yes, Your Highness, we should.”

  I stopped short. “After everything, do we need the ‘Highness’? I get enough of that from Sir Forsythe.”

  “I never thanked you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Like hell I don’t!” she snapped.

  I couldn’t help smiling. “With that ‘Highness’ I thought we might have lost you.”

  “Forgive me for trying to do my job.”

  “That doesn’t have to mean acting like someone else.”

  She sighed. “What about stealth and a low profile? If your handmaids are on a first-name basis with you in public, that’s sort of noticeable.”

  “You have a point.”

  “Of course I do.” We stopped in front of the door to my chambers. “But I’m serious. Those girls are my family, and I’ve always been afraid that I’d lose them like the one I was born with—”

  I know.

  “We wouldn’t have lasted the winter. You gave us a home.”

  “Sorry it was so rough getting here.”

  “But we got here,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She bowed her head in recognition and said, “I’ll leave you now, Your Highness. You have a visitor in your chambers.”

  I reached for the door handle, and then I turned to ask, “Visitor?”

  Grace had gone.

  What the . . .

  Who visits the princess in her private chambers?

  I opened the door and my eyes widened.

  “Finally! Princess Frank.”

  Sitting cross-legged on a couch across from the door was the Goddess Lysea. She wore the same sheer gown that she’d worn in my vision, but out of direct sunlight it wasn’t nearly as translucent. She wore a garland of flowers that filled the room with scents that didn’t belong in the middle of winter.

  “You?” I said.

  “Me,” she said. “Close the door, it’s drafty in here.”

  I did as instructed, a little clumsily since I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Amazingly, the more opaque her gown was, the more it emphasized her figure.

  “I’m here to thank you.”

  “Surprising number of people doing that lately.” She laughed, and it was like someone taking a feather and running it up the princess’s legs. “You already thanked me for the story.”

  “Oh.” She waved her hand. “Not that.”

  “What, then?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

  “Come on, you not only re-consecrate my temple with your amazing offering, but you stood down tall, dark, and gruesome on my behalf.”

  “That was on my behalf.”

  “That is, as my unpleasant sibling said, a ‘technicality.’ And that’s not all. Thanks to you, I’ve discovered how fun it is to have a warrior order.”

  “I’m happy you—wait, what?”

  She stood and stretched, and I was briefly thankful I was no longer male, as the sight would have been painful as well as arousing. “Everyone has them, you know. Some group of acolytes that take up the sword on their deity’s behalf. That was never my style. I mean an armed poet? Warrior painters? But those girls you brought me? I love them! Should have done this aeons ago.”

  “You??
?re . . . welcome.”

  “So, Frank Blackthorne, I’ve brought you a gift in thanks.”

  Oh crap. I immediately thought of the last gift that some deity had left in my chambers. Whatever it was, I couldn’t possibly see it going well. “No, that isn’t necessary.”

  “Oh, Frank, you’re not going to refuse me this kindness? I would be soooo disappointed.”

  The slight shadow that crossed her face was enough to nearly make me wet myself. “No!” I held up my hands. “Not that. I just didn’t want you to trouble yourself on my account.”

  She smiled. “I’m a goddess, Frank, and this was no trouble at all.”

  “Oh.”

  “This will be so much fun!” She walked up to me and bent over to kiss me on the lips. I think the contact with her must have made me black out momentarily, because when I opened my eyes, she was gone.

  I blinked a couple of times. Gift? What gift?

  Maybe she forgot?

  The hope was short-lived when I heard someone yawn. I spun around and saw a naked woman in my bed, half covered in a sheet, stretching. Her eyes met mine and a smile crossed her lips.

  “Mistress. What do you wish of me?”

  “E-Evelyn,” I stammered. “You’re all right.”

  I’m pretty sure the Goddess’s heart was in the right place, but staring at the intact serving wench from The Three-Legged Boar filled me less with relief and more with a gnawing existential panic. Everything had spun around full circle, and I was seeing a whole host of roads before me that I didn’t want to ride down again.

  I backed to the door and opened it again.

  “Mistress?”

  I held up a hand and said, “Hold that thought.”

  I called down the corridor, “Grace, get back here!”

  “Mistress. What’s the matter?” She sat on the edge of the bed, her seductive smile replaced by confusion.

  I saw the fantasy crack behind her eyes and I felt a wave of guilt, along with the impulse to tell her some sort of comforting story to reassure her and get her out of my bedroom. I thanked all the deities I had yet to anger that I hadn’t imbibed any alcohol that would have encouraged me along any further bad life choices. Instead of a comforting lie, I steeled myself and told her the truth.