In the Time of Dragon Moon

  Jackrun went down on his good knee.

  “And this is Jackrun’s friend the healer and queen’s physician, Uma Quarteney.”

  I curtsied beside Jackrun.

  “Come closer,” said King Onadon, motioning with his finger. Suddenly Jackrun and I were both moved across the grass as if the king had tugged the earth, pulling us toward him on a green carpet. Onadon had moved us against our will, handled us like chess pieces when we could have just as easily walked! I hid my fists in the folds of my skirts, the bite marks stinging under the new bandage.

  “I have waited long to meet you, King Onadon,” Jackrun said in a clear tone.

  “As I have you, Jackrun.” He eyed Jackrun’s bandaged arm. “We heard you battled wolves. How are your injuries?”

  “Better, sire. Uma Quarteney treated me. She is a great physician.”

  I bit my lip at the exaggeration. Will-o’-the-wisps flew across the river, some landing in the trees to our right, a few circling over King Onadon’s head as he appraised me.

  “You are welcome here, Uma Quarteney. Your people and ours shared Wilde Island along with the dragons countless generations before the English came.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “But your customs must have changed recently,” he added. “The Adans we have known were all male.” I lowered my eyes and studied the chained light patterns on the ground. When I looked up again, I had to blink at the flitting movements of the crowd. The fey folk had seemed constant at first; now I noticed fairies appearing and disappearing, as one winked out, another took his or her place. The rippling light from the fiery orb had confused my eyes. I hadn’t noticed the constant change until now. At least King Onadon was constant, as were Princess Augusta and the dragons behind him.

  “You took your time, coming to see me, grandson.”

  “I had duties to perform at my uncle’s castle. We had to bury his son. I noticed none of your court came.”

  “We were not welcome. King Arden has hardened his heart against us and the dragons.”

  “He blamed a dragon for his son’s death,” Jackrun said, “but my cousin’s murder wasn’t the fault of any dragon.”

  I cringed at the blunt remark as King Onadon repeated the word. “Murder?”

  The word echoed through the crowd behind him. The dragons’ tongues slithered in and out, licking up the sound.

  “We heard it was an accident,” King Onadon said. “We were told you were there with him when he fell.”

  “I was there, and so was Uma.”

  “And what makes you think it was murder, grandson? This is news to me and my court.”

  “We felt the wind that pushed him over the edge.”

  “A wind can blow from anywhere,” Onadon argued with the wave of a hand.

  “Or it can be summoned by those who have the power to do it, as you’ve just shown us, Grandfather.”

  A frown was growing on the king’s noble face.

  “Are you so completely innocent?” King Onadon continued. “You knew the kind of man he was. Can you honestly say you wished him to be king?”

  Jackrun clenched his jaw. No one thought Desmond would make a good king except his doting parents and Lady Olivia, who envisioned her daughter beside him on the throne. Tabitha’s words whispered through me: He’s a monster, Jack. He’ll be a tyrant when he’s king.

  “In a fair fight for the crown, the strongest wins,” King Onadon said. “That is how we do it in Dragonswood.”

  “That is not how humans inherit, Grandfather.”

  “Are you sure? Many kings in your human history were toppled by those who challenged them. Brother has gone against brother, cousin against cousin. Or don’t you study your own English history?”

  Silence.

  “Very well, Jackrun, if a man is born to become king, answer me this: Were you?”

  The crowd hushed. Even the dragons looked expectant.

  The Son of the Prophecy was born to rule. All the fairy folk believed that. I could see it in their faces.

  “I never wanted a crown purchased by my cousin’s blood,” Jackrun said icily.

  King Onadon narrowed his eyes.

  A piercing raptor’s cry tore through the sky above. All looked up.

  “Vazan,” I called, surprised. She had vowed never to enter Dragonswood prison, as she called it. Yet she had flown in with her newly stitched wing. I watched her wheeling down.

  “Come, Uma.” It was not a plea but an order.

  “What’s wrong, Vazan?”

  “The queen is worse.”

  Onadon called, “You have entered our domain, red dragon.”

  “I will not set claw down in your domain,” she answered with distaste. “I am here for Uma Quarteney.” She darted closer in. “Come now, Uma, if you don’t want to lose everything we are fighting for.”

  “What do you fight for, Vazan?” demanded Onadon.

  “Freedom!”

  “Then come down and speak with us. We are a free people here.”

  Vazan whisked down, I thought to land, but instead she hovered by the cliff and lowered her head. “Get on, Uma.”

  “Your stitched wing. Can you carry my weight so soon?”

  “Yessss!”

  I adjusted the herb basket on my shoulder and looked at Jackrun, torn.

  King Onadon said, “Before you go, queen’s physician, I say this. Her Majesty Queen Adela owes us for her glass eye. If we had left her marred, she would have never wed King Arden. Remind her of it.”

  “I will do my best to remind her, Your Majesty,” I said, not knowing when or how I could possibly pass on such a message to the queen.

  I turned to Jackrun. “She is injured. She won’t be able to carry us both.”

  “I can’t leave yet anyway.” He put his lips close to my ear. “If they’ve placed an infertility hex on the queen, I’ll make sure it’s removed before I come back to you.”

  “Uma!” roared Vazan, hovering by the cliff’s edge. The stubborn dragon wouldn’t land to make mounting easy. I grabbed the kea bundle, ran to her, and barely managed to straddle her neck before she backwinged from the cliff. She raised her head and sent me sliding down her long neck. I came to a sudden painful stop against her shoulders, the kea bundle flying from my grip.

  “We can’t leave that behind,” I screamed as it fell. Vazan dove for it, jolting me forward. I would have joined the falling bundle if I hadn’t grabbed her protruding scale and driven my knees into her. She snatched the kea in her talons and winged back up again. In the air, I craned my neck to look once more at the high plateau above DunGarrow Castle. Jackrun stood at the cliff’s edge, his dark hair blowing back, the crowd of fairies and dragons behind him. He lifted his hand and touched his ear, reminding me of the words he’d just whispered in mine as he watched us go.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Dragonswood to Pendragon Castle, Wilde Island

  Dragon Moon

  October 1210

  WE CANNOT GO straight back. I still have to find huzana vines.”

  “Gone two nights and you still don’t have all the herbs you need?”

  I did not feel like explaining. Too much had happened since I’d entered Dragonswood. “Go as I guide you,” I said, watching the treetops for the vines, the ground for a sign of fox. The cold wind chased us. I worried about Vazan’s stitched wing as I hunched under my new green cloak, shivering and looking down. When I saw fox darting through the bracken, I called, “Follow her.”

  So far Vazan had managed not to land in Dragonswood prison.

  “Those trees there.” She swept lower, gripped a high branch with a claw, and pumped her wings slowly, waiting for me to climb to another branch. Her weight bent the treetop down. It was a good thirty-foot drop to the earth below. One of my slippers tumbled to the forest floor as I
clambered onto the safest-looking branch, holding on to another. The tree leaned at a dangerous angle. I hung on with one hand, pulled leaves off the huzana vine with the other, filling the top of my basket. When I heard a loud crack, I climbed up and threw a leg over Vazan’s neck. The tree broke as she took off, and crashed to the forest floor.

  The wind continued to harass us over Dragonswood. Almost as if Onadon were using his magic to sweep us out. Midday we landed near the Pendragon tomb. I would have used the secret way in, but the gatehouse men must have seen Vazan coming; already a soldier crossed the drawbridge expectantly.

  Vazan handed me the kea bundle she’d carried in her claw.

  I dipped my head. “Tuma-doa—thank you.” She kept a claw out a little longer for me to touch. I teared up, running my hand over her scales, ending at her talons, black as marble, sharp as spears. “Go rest your wing now, rivule.” For once she did not argue. I watched her mount the sky, then met the soldier at the drawbridge. He reached for the kea bundle, but I would not let him carry it for me.

  “The stables first,” I said to him. “I have a message for the head groom.” We asked around and found the man currying a fine white charger.

  “I had to leave the horses we took tied up by Kingsway Road.”

  The man stopped brushing and looked back at me. “How far away, mistress physician?”

  “Twelve miles or more to the south.”

  “Those mounts belong to King Arden,” he said gruffly. “Where is Sir Giles? I have a word or two to say to him.”

  “Dead, sir,” I said with a thick throat. “We were attacked by wolves.”

  His eyes widened. He was crossing himself, brush still in his hand.

  We left the stable. “He was a good knight,” the soldier said, leading me inside the castle. “I’ll have to tell the commander he’s dead. But first I’m to take you to Her Majesty.”

  “I should mix her remedy before I see her.”

  He paused in the hall. “I was told—”

  “It won’t take long,” I said.

  The man paced outside the door to the Crow’s Nest as I cut off portions of the new kea stems, adding them to the huzana leaves and bapeeta in the simmering pot.

  “Ready?” he called through the door, pounding it at the same time with his fist. I shed my slipper, no good wearing it when the other was lost, went out barefoot to the cold stone alcove at the top of the stairs, and followed him through the winding halls toward the queen’s tower.

  I’d been away two full days and nights; still, I was not prepared for what I met when I opened the queen’s door. The bedchamber was in shambles, every drawer was open, gowns and shoes were strewn across the floor as if a tempest had swept in.

  Her Majesty wandered through the clothing piles talking to herself. I saw no sign of Lady Olivia.

  “Your Majesty?” I said with a curtsy. When she ignored me, I approached her cautiously, holding out the brew, staying close in case she grabbed it and tried to hurl it across the room. I sighed when she drank it, and began picking up her things. I could have called down to the guard at the base of the bedroom stairs, demanded he send up a chambermaid at once, but I thought better of it. She was worse than I’d seen her since the early days after her son died. I wanted a little time to restore her before anyone else came in.

  “Her eye will do,” the queen said, still pacing. “Then we will dig out her heart.”

  “Here, Your Majesty,” I said, helping her sit before her vanity.

  “I’ll execute him,” she said to the mirror. “He murdered Pippin.”

  “Who murdered Pippin?” I asked, astonished.

  “The guard, see the blood?” She pointed to a tangled red gown on the floor, then put her face in her hands and wept.

  “Your Majesty, I will be right back.”

  I hurried downstairs to speak to the man below. “Where is the queen’s lapdog, Pippin?”

  “The page left with Lady Olivia to take Pippin on his morning walk.”

  “So the dog is all right?”

  He cocked a brow. “Course he is, why?”

  “The queen is unwell. Do not let anyone up to see her while I’m gone. I won’t be a moment,” I said before going out. I found Pippin in the walled garden pissing in the ferns while the freckle-faced page stood by. Lady Olivia was seated on a stone bench under a covered archway. Seeing me, she stood up glaring.

  “So you’ve returned to us at last,” she said, wrapping her cloak tightly around herself. Her nose was pink and her face looked paler than usual if that were possible.

  “I need to take Pippin back to the queen, my lady.”

  “Have you any idea of the distress you caused Her Majesty by staying away so long?” Turning aside, she sneezed, and dabbed her nose with a lace handkerchief.

  Didn’t I say I might be gone two days? “There was trouble. A wolf attack. Sir Giles was killed.” There wasn’t time to go into all the rest of the story before I raced back up the stairs.

  She saw my bandaged hand. “And you were injured,” she said, her voice softer now. She sneezed again.

  “It’s nothing. How long have you been feeling ill, my lady?”

  “I’m only a little bit tired, Uma. I have had to attend Queen Adela day and night since you left.” The short speech seemed to exhaust her. Sighing, she sat again. “How is she?”

  “Very bad, I’m afraid.”

  “I only just left her, but I’ll go to her. I just came out for some air while the lad walks Pippin.” She dabbed her nose. “What?” she added, seeing my expression.

  “I don’t think you should attend Her Majesty until you’re feeling better, my lady.”

  She was about to protest, when she coughed into her handkerchief.

  “You should be in bed,” I added.

  “You will watch over her?” She gazed up, uncertain.

  “I will. I promise. Now go.”

  She raised her brows at the insistence in my voice, but gave in, knowing I was right, and headed for the garden gate. I turned and went for Pippin, who was already wriggling in the boy’s arms and licking his face.

  The boy grinned. “I’ll take ’im up, mistress.”

  “No, give him to me. I have to do it.” I hurried back inside and entered the queen’s solar with my small prize.

  “Here’s Pippin alive and well,” I said triumphantly. “No one has harmed him as you can see.”

  The queen glanced up, neither surprised nor pleased, and made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Filthy paws.”

  I looked about for something to wipe Pippin’s paws with before I set him down. Knowing better than to use the queen’s facecloth by her washbowl, and finding nothing else, I had to head back downstairs and snatch a cloth from the queen’s presence room before returning with the dog.

  The rest of the day was a whirl of activity. Later when I was in the herbarium, mixing her bedtime dose, Bianca came up the stairs and poked her head through the door.

  “I’m sorry; I cannot give you any more evicta, Bianca.”

  “Mother said you were attacked by wolves.” She pushed into the chilly room, put her candelabra on my worktable, and placed a pair of slippers on my floor.

  “How badly are you hurt? Let me see.” Her pink gown swished as she came closer, her face soft with concern, reaching for my bandaged hand.

  I stepped back. “I’m all right, Bianca.” I was used to her coming here to beg for evicta, not to ask after my health.

  “Mother also said you were barefoot, so I thought you might need these.” She looked down at the slippers she’d placed near the table leg. “They might be too small for you, but . . .”

  The black slippers were covered with embroidered vines and delicate leaves.

  “Try them. They will match your pretty moss-green gown,” she said, touching my silken sleeve
. “The gown suits you,” she added. “No lace or pearls, still it’s beautiful.”

  “A gift from someone in Dragonswood,” I said.

  Her eyes grew wide.

  The slippers were a little too narrow for my feet “They are so fine. Are you sure?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I have so many shoes and gowns, a whole wardrobe full. Mother wants me to dress like a princess.” She frowned at her hands, her skin pale as tallow, her lovely nails curved like crescent moons.

  I fought for what to say as the silence drew out longer. “How is Lady Olivia feeling?”

  “She coughs some. But she . . . is strong.”

  “She hasn’t sent you to ask me for a curative for her?”

  “She wouldn’t. She says your medicines are strictly for the queen. She doesn’t like having to stay apart from Her Majesty, but she knows she mustn’t spread contagion.” Bianca swished to my vanity but did not sit. “I shouldn’t have come to you myself to take the queen’s medicine those other times,” she said, blushing. “I never told Mother I came to you.”

  “I won’t tell her, Bianca.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “You are so brave,” she added, fingering the hairbrush on my vanity, “going herbing with the wolves still out there. I only wanted to say . . . we are friends, aren’t we?”

  The soft words stole into me as she looked up. I saw the rings below her eyes that she never could quite cover with her powder, and remembered the last time I’d seen her in tears in the castle hallway with the king holding her close, drawing her into her room. Her flirtations with His Majesty went against all I was trying to do to help Queen Adela conceive an heir. For that we should be enemies.

  She was waiting.

  “Thank you for coming to see how I am,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. “And for the slippers. The castle floors are cold.”

  The little smile she gave in return made my eyes prick. “You should . . . go now. I have work to do.”

  “Don’t you ever rest?” Bianca surveyed the Crow’s Nest, the boiling pans lined up in a neat row, the mortar and pestle on the worktable. “I suppose you can’t rest in your profession,” she added, retrieving her candelabra. I closed the door behind her, leaned my head against it, and swiped away tears. It was always kindness that undid me.