“Your hands,” one of the guards said once they were seated. Dareena’s eyes widened at the sight of the rope in his hands, but she dutifully held out her wrists, and the guard bound them, and then Alistair’s. Alistair knew that the bonds were more ceremonial than anything else—they were fairly loose, and he could escape them with ease. But the crowd watched, and to them they looked like two trussed up prisoners being carted off to Elvenhame rather than “guests.”
Once everyone was settled, the elven guards mounted their horses, and they set off. Their caravan rolled slowly through the courtyard and down the drive, giving the crowds ample time to watch them pass and shout more questions andinsults.
“Good riddance!” one man cried. He was wearing a black cloak with the hood up, and he hurled a tomato directly at Alistair’s head. It smashed into the wall a few centimeters from Alistair’s elbow, spattering his cloak with red juice. Alistair gritted his teeth as he plucked the ruined vegetable from the bottom of the cart, tempted to hurl it back at the offender. “At least now we won’t have to pay those absurd taxesanymore!”
“It’s okay, Alistair,” Dareena said, laying a hand on his arm. Her voice soothed him, and he lowered his arm before he did something he would regret. “Don’t pay them any mind. We’ll be out of here in notime.”
“Maybe, buttheywill still be here,” Alistair said bitterly. “Do they really hate our kingdom so? I know Father has been heavy-handed of late, but I did not realize there was quite so muchdiscontent.”
Dareena sighed. “You wouldn’t, cooped up in the castle as you have been,” she said. “There are those who resent dragons and dragon born for treating humans like second-class citizens. The Hallowdale family, from my hometown, certainly was that way. They were dragon born, and considered themselves better than anyone else, including the other upper-classfamilies.”
Alistair frowned. “Well, that certainly doesn’t help our case. And with Father raisingtaxes…”
Dareena nodded. “There are many who aren’t happy with that. Even so, most are content to let the dragons rule, as they want the continued protection of the dragon god over their lands. Someone must be stirring themup.”
“The Black Cloak Brotherhood,” Alistair said. “That man must be a member.” There had been rumors of a growing cult of anti-dragon citizens, but Alistair had never come across one until today. He looked around. Quite a few black-cloaked citizens were in the crowd, shaking their fists at Alistair and Dareena and chanting, “Goodriddance!”
“This is not good,” Dareena said, huddling closer to Alistair. He let her lean against him, suddenly feeling guilty for letting her console him rather than the other way around. Blast these confounded ropes—he couldn’t even put an arm around her with his hands tied like this. “Unless we turn matters around in a dramatic fashion, this civil unrest will only continue to spread. It’s going to be very hard for Drystan and Lucyan to bring the people to heel if they believe we are the cause of theirproblems.”
“My brothers are strong and resourceful,” Alistair assured her, burying his own worries. “If anyone can figure a way out of this, it’s Lucyan. And Drystan will hold the fort down and make sure everything runs smoothly in our absence. We’ll be back in Dragonfell before you knowit.”
“I hope so,” Dareena said with a sigh. Silently, they watched as Dragon’s Keep gradually dwindled away into the distance and wondered exactly what kind of reception they would get once they arrived inElvenhame.
5
When Lucyan next woke,it was as if someone had placed anvils over his eyelids and stuffed his mouth with cotton. Groaning, he pushed himself upright in bed and squinted around, hoping someone had the foresight to leave a glass of water. Thankfully, someone had, and as he downed it greedily, some of the lethargy left hislimbs.
What in Terragaard had happened to him? The last thing he remembered was the battle in the throne room. His father had smashed him into the wall with his great, spikytail…
Oh.The rest of the memories rushed in, his heart aching. The elves had come. They’d killed thousands of their soldiers and taken Dareena away in exchange for returning the thousands more they’d taken prisoner. Lucyan’s hands fisted in his sheets as he remembered the guilt and horror written all over Dareena’s face—she’d felt personally responsible, even though this was in no way herfault.
No, it was Lucyan’s fault. And Drystan’s, and Alistair’s, for not figuring out a way to stop their father sooner. For allowing things to get so bad that their kingdom was only a breath away from annihilation. Dareena was not to blame, and yet she was the one suffering. They’d been too stupid to do anything about it until it was toolate.
Frustrated, Lucyan pushed back the covers and rang for his valet to come and dress him. His ribs still smarted some, but a quick glance in the mirror showed no bruises on hisface.
“Your Highness,” Baromar, his valet said, alarm on his square face as he entered the room. “You really should beabed—”
“I have no time to lay about like an invalid,” Lucyan growled. “Not when we are at war. Now fetch myrazor.”
Baromar did as Lucyan asked. Twenty minutes later, Lucyan walked down the hall, albeit slower than normal, to his brother’s office. He might still be in pain, but at least he looked good, clean-shaven and in fresh clothes. He’d pay a visit to the healers later today and take another draught of that foul-tasting but highly effective potion. With any luck, he’d be right as raintomorrow.
Speaking of the healers, they seemed to be out in full force today, rushing from room to room along with most of the servants, carrying bedding and supplies back and forth. He imagined they were readying all available rooms for the influx of wounded soldiers that would be arriving in the next fewdays.
“You there.” He snagged a servant by the elbow as she was rushing past. “Tell the healers to use mysuite.”
“Huh?” The servant blinked up at him inconfusion.
“My suite,” Lucyan said impatiently. “I have a large bed, and several couches and settees. The wounded will have far more use for them than I. Tell the healers they are welcome tothem.”
“I will. Thank you, Your Highness.” The servant bowed, then rushed off to finish her task and do Lucyan’s bidding. Some of the tightness eased from Lucyan’s chest—it was a small thing, giving up his quarters, but if it could help ease some of the soldiers’ suffering, he was glad to doit.
“Lucyan.” Drystan shot to his feet as Lucyan entered his office. “You ought tobe—”
“In bed, I know,” Lucyan groused. He gingerly made his way over to the small cabinet behind Drystan’s desk, where his eldest brother kept a stash ofliquor.
Sighing, Drystan took the bottle of brandy from him, then fished out two glasses and poured a healthy dose for both of them. He didn’t look like he’d slept well. There were circles beneath his eyes, and his skin had a wan look toit.
“I can’t believe she’s been gone a full day already,” Drystan muttered as he lifted his glass. His amber eyes were dull, as if some vital spark had been stolen fromthem.
