Dragon Thief Read online

  I glanced at him. He was still engrossed in the singer’s beauty. Mother was staring stonily at the dancers, pretending she hadn’t noticed.

  Determination burned through me, scouring away my doubt and fear. I spoke before I could think better of it. “I have a headache, Father. With your permission I’ll retire to my room.”

  He gestured me away impatiently. How quickly I ceased to matter to him. I wondered if he’d wait until I was out of sight on my journey to Surran before he’d forget that he had a daughter. I shifted my seat back and edged behind my father, taking the closest exit so I wouldn’t have to endure any more insincere congratulations.

  The staircase was in sight when Lord Gollan stepped into my path.

  A jag of alarm speeded my heart. I clutched a hand to my chest. “My lord, I didn’t see you there.”

  He shifted, edging me against the wall. “My congratulations, Princess. How sad that Muirland must lose a flower of such beauty.”

  Fine words – and utterly empty. Lord Gollan had never looked twice at me before today. I took a step back, planning to edge around him, but he mirrored my movement, his body so close I’d have to push him out of my way.

  “I thought you were promised to the Daughters of Compassion.” He was so close his wine breath choked me. I turned my head but he had me trapped against the wall. If I moved I would only back myself into the corner, and I had the sense to know how foolish that would be. He grabbed my wrist, as though sensing my desire to escape. “If I’d known your father was entertaining a marriage match for you, I would have petitioned him myself.”

  His eyes gleamed while his fingers tightened, his nails touching my skin. If an ordinary man touched me, a princess, he’d forfeit his fingers, but Lord Gollan did as he pleased, and he was a favourite of my father. “Would you have liked a young and handsome husband, rather than an old and ugly one?”

  “I do not question my father’s choice.” I gave the answer I had to, biting my tongue on the response that if it were up to me, I’d send both men to the ends of the earth. “And nor should you.”

  “You’re very diplomatic,” he breathed. He pushed closer still, his ribs pressing my breasts. “A shame you will soon be leaving. I know we could have fun, you and me.”

  I wondered if he could feel how fast and hard my heart was beating. “Now impossible, sir,” I said levelly. I tried to hide my fear, sensing how it would please him to see it.

  “Not impossible,” he countered, with a grin that might make the ladies giggle but which put me in mind of the head of the tiger mounted in my father’s rooms. “There is still time. And we could be careful. There’s lots of fun a man and woman can have. I’d love to show you.” His fingers tightened again, nails pressing hard. I stifled a gasp. “Some women enjoy pain. I think you might be one of them.”

  I twisted, trying to tug my arm away. He gripped harder, his smile turning predatory. If he’d been a servant, I could have screamed, and kicked him. But he was a lord, and I was sure my father would believe I’d invited his attention. I leaned closer. “I advise you not to leave a mark, sir. Surran will make you a poor enemy.”

  I thought my words had had the desired effect when he lifted his hand away from me. “Your Highness.” Lord Gollan turned and I realised he hadn’t been affected by my words, but by my brother’s arrival. “I was just congratulating your sister on her marriage.”

  “We’re all delighted to make an alliance with Surran,” Jaran said evenly. “My sister will be a great queen.” He stepped close, so Lord Gollan had to give way. He inclined his head at the lord in clear dismissal. “I’m sure my father will find a worthy bride for you, my lord. One who reflects the value of your loyalty to the royal family and the Kingdom of Muirland.” He turned to me. “Come, sister.”

  The lord was left standing. I didn’t crane back, but I was sure his teeth were grinding at being dismissed by my brother – and being put firmly in his place by a younger man. But he could do nothing against Jaran.

  “Do you want to return to the hall?” Jaran murmured.

  I shook my head. “I have a headache. I wish to retire to my room.”

  “I’ll escort you.” We walked in silence. “You know, it’s not wise to be alone with Lord Gollan.”

  “I know that! Do you think me a fool? He followed me.”

  “Perhaps you should keep a maid with you at all times. Or stick close to Mother.”

  “This is my home, Jaran!” He made no reply. I sighed. “My marriage has caused the most remarkable change in some of the men of the court. Yesterday, the lords all ignored me. Now, they act as though I’m hugely desirable. They never used to care, but now it’s as though they’re afraid of missing out on something another man esteems.”

  Jaran laughed. “Men are shallow. Don’t you know that, sis?”

  “Men are revolting. And absurd.”

  “Not all of us.”

  We trod up the steps and the noise of carousing in the dining hall lessened to leave silence behind. “I suppose you’re mostly civilised,” I told my brother.

  He inclined his head. “I’m delighted you think so.”

  I turned, inspecting his face from the side as we walked. Caution told me to say nothing, but the words burned inside me. This was important. “When you have a wife, be kind to her, Jaran. Don’t become a brute.” I did bite off the last words “like father”.

  “I hope I shall be kind to her for her own sake.” His lips curved. “But if not, then I’ll be kind to her for yours,” he promised.

  We had reached the corridor along which both our bedrooms lay. “Do you want me to walk you to your door?”

  “No, go and enjoy the fun.”

  “Feel better soon.”

  He turned and slipped back down the stairs. I paused by the window at the end of the corridor, staring out at the city beyond. If I was really the biddable good girl my father thought he possessed, I’d go to my room and study the manners and morals of Surran society to ensure I wouldn’t shame my new husband. I certainly wouldn’t be lingering here, thoughts of revenge whirling tighter until they became a whirlwind, fierce and unstoppable.

  My headache was a fiction, to get away from the crowd below who would celebrate anything my father told them to. I didn’t want to retreat to my room. I held together the flimsy shreds of my courage. I wanted to do something dramatic, to give free rein to the rage and fury my father had unleashed when he broke his word.

  I leaned against the window ledge, looking past the palace courtyard to the city beyond, the pale stone of the buildings bathed in moonlight. The fountain in city square was tiny from here, but I could picture the fall of light as its water tumbled. It was a beautiful city. I swallowed, realising for the first time that I’d miss it.

  I wondered what Surran was like. I shivered, because it didn’t much matter what the country was like. I’d see as much or as little of it as my husband decreed. It was the person that mattered, not the place. My thoughts twisted inexorably to my destined husband. I didn’t want to think about his behaviour or character. I tried not to indulge in gossip, but I still knew the stories that drifted into the palace from the refugees stepping off boats in the harbour.

  The best I might hope for was that King Zalar would be indifferent to me. I would give him a son or two and then he could ignore me in favour of his whores, the way my father treated my mother.

  That didn’t sound like much of a life, but my choice had already been taken from me. Now I’d have to make do with what little I could scavenge from my constricted life. At least I’d have plenty to eat and a roof over my head, which was more than many people in both countries were assured.

  My lips twitched. I would have been perfect for the Daughters of Compassion; that sort of bright-side thinking was their philosophy. I shifted, watching the moonlit square, fighting the crazy desire to jump out of the window and run, over the city and far, far away. Freedom was out there, somewhere. But too far away for me to reach it.

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sp; I turned away from the window and ducked into my room, the plan that had occurred to me during dinner burning my brain. I had a chance for revenge, and I’d take it.

  I struggled out of my fancy dress and dropped my fine jewels onto my dressing table. When I was dressed in plain clothes I’d liberated from the laundry a year ago and hidden in the bottom of a drawer since, I crept to the topmost floor of the palace, where my father’s rooms lay. I’d accept my fate, the one he’d made for me, but I wouldn’t do it quietly. Rebellion burned in a small, unsubdued part of me and tonight I’d let it fly free.

  Two guards patrolled the corridor, but they weren’t taking their duties seriously with Father absent. They sat on the carpet, close to the door into his bedroom, weapons on the floor beside them. I suspected they were playing dice to pass the time, with little expectation that danger would make its way this far into the palace. Their indifference suited me perfectly. I didn’t need to gain access to Father’s bedroom; my destination was his private sitting room at this end of the hall.

  Once I was sure the guards were both engrossed in their game, I slipped through shadows and twisted the doorknob. My heart beat hard as I slipped inside and closed the door silently behind me, pausing to listen. There was no sign of consternation outside.

  The invisible princess. Being ignored and overlooked came in useful now and then.

  A vibrating croon broke the silence. My target had noticed my arrival. I turned slowly. A low fire glowed on one side of the room, keeping the air permanently warm. Hanging from the ceiling was a large cage. The croon was coming from that.

  Bright eyes watched me, the cage rocking slightly as the animal shifted to get a better look at its visitor, muscles bunching beneath its tough hide. Wings spread, collided with the bars of the cage, and were folded back along its spine.

  If you didn’t know better, you might suppose the animal to be a baby dragon, but you’d be wrong. Dragons were creatures of magic, and as such they belonged to the mages, the only people in Muirland capable of containing and using a dragon’s magic safely. Even the king came second to the mages where magic was concerned. This tiny creature no doubt had an ancestor in common with the magical beasts, but it had no magic and was no more useful than a dog.

  But it was a matter of status to own one. The dragonette was the only one I knew of in the whole of Muirland, its rarity making it especially precious.

  The maid had been maimed on my father’s command. My future had become a dark and dismal thing because my father wanted an ally to destroy the fae who cared nothing for war. I couldn’t protest, and I couldn’t fight. I was trapped, but in revenge I could bestow freedom on another. I might be confined in a cage of my father’s making, but this poor beast could be set free.

  Lyo – Not a Performing Monkey

  “Hey! Surran! Do some tricks, then!”

  Lyo tried to ignore the passersby. The man was drunk, and egged on by equally inebriated friends. They weren’t really talking to him, they were only talking to entertain each other with their stupendous wit.

  “Surran! Climb to the top of the fountain and I’ll give you tuppence!” One of the louts stopped, hands on hips, as though he thought Lyo would actually obey his drunken command.

  “Surran’s the country,” he muttered. It was pointless to try and correct people who didn’t care whether their words were accurate, but it still annoyed him. Surran was the place. Its people were Surrana or Surranera, depending on whether they were male or female; Surranese if both sexes were involved. Would it really kill these people to learn how to correctly describe their neighbours?

  The drunken trio were still standing, watching him. He glanced sideways, up at the ornate fountain that he was sitting on the edge of. He could climb to the top, no problem. He could somersault to the top, except for one thing – he wasn’t a performing monkey.

  He watched the drunken men. “You first,” he said with a smile.

  The foremost lout laughed. “‘Yooo fuurst’,” he mimicked, exaggerating Lyo’s accent.

  Lyo sighed. It was a joke that had ceased to be funny around day two in the city. Surranese took their time speaking while Muirlanders gabbled. Hold me while my sides split.

  “Go on,” the second lout urged his friend, his attention still on the climb.

  Lout number one shoved his companion. “I’d probably fall and kill myself.”

  “And what a loss that would be,” Lyo muttered beneath his breath.

  “You’re the ones who are good at climbing,” the first lout called, as though it were self-evident.

  Lyo knew that many Surrana and Surranera had found jobs with entertainment troupes, their natural grace, poise and balance suiting them to the life of an entertainer in this graceless country. But that wasn’t all they were capable of.

  The third lout stood forward. “Are you scared?”

  He looked up, meeting the man’s gaze levelly. As though he’d take on Muirland’s stupid values of male machismo. “Scared? No. I’m busy.”

  “You don’t look busy,” lout one argued.

  “That’s what you think.” Lyo got to his feet, stretching onto tiptoes. With his arms extended high overhead, he was significantly taller than the Muirlanders. As one, they shifted back, although he knew they’d deny it if he pointed out that they’d moved. Surranese were excellent acrobats, every Muirlander knew that. They also knew that those from the south still worshipped the old gods. He smiled and took a step towards the louts, pitching his voice low but clear. “As I said, I’m busy. I suggest you leave this spot, gentlemen, before I petition the gods to turn your balls into flowers so only the bees will suck on them.”

  Through their flush of alcohol, the louts paled. There were three of them. They might have attacked, but, “Nah, he’s boring,” lout one declared, giving them an excuse to turn away and stagger towards one of the busier streets, jostling each other to prove their bravery and strength. Lyo grinned, not caring what excuse they gave for going, only that they went.

  He turned back to the palace, committing to memory every detail of the building and the men guarding it.

  3 – A Thief with Magic

  I walked towards the dragonette, crooning in return, my best approximation of the noise it made. It blinked, tilting its head, interested. The noise coming from its beaky mouth changed, rising on a note I thought might be curiosity. I unfastened the cage and reached inside, stroking its rough skin. I felt the strangely-smooth patches at the top of her – I was pretty sure she was a she – wings from when she’d rubbed against the bars, trying to stretch in a space that was too small.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d approached the animal. I wasn’t mad enough to stick my hand in the cage of an untested beast, no matter how angry I was with my father. I’d spent enough time with her to be confident I was in no danger. Now, the creature closed her eyes and pressed against my rubbing fingers as though the caress represented absolute bliss.

  Dragonettes had no magic – according to the mages – but I thought they might be sensitive to the power. I’d seen Father’s dragonette snap and squeal at others who’d tried to come close. She had been confined to a cage after my father discovered he couldn’t teach her to come at his command and sit on his shoulder. She didn’t like her owner, but she tolerated me. I was sure she could sense what I kept hidden inside me. Which made it a good job that dragonettes couldn’t speak and spill my secret.

  “Shall you come a walk with me?” I murmured, keeping up my caresses as I reached my other hand inside the cage. Trapping her wings against her sides, I lifted the animal out. After a surprised snap of her beak, the creature submitted. I stepped away from the cage and imprisoned the dragonette against my side, wings still trapped, the way I’d seen maids carry hens in the market.

  She butted her head against my arm. I took the hint and used my free hand to scratch her head as I walked to the window. The moon was a bright crescent in the dark sky, while a scattering of lights illuminated the businesses
in the city that were still open, the taverns and less-respectable places. The air was cool and refreshing, tinted with the scent of the river that cut through the cliffs marking the edge of the city, and the dark forest beyond. I was tempted to simply cast the dragonette into the sky and let her fly away.

  But that was the coward’s way out. She was trapped the same way I was: because she had a value to my father. If she escaped her cage and flew away, he would send men after her. If my gesture was to mean anything, I had to ensure she could reach her dragon cousins in the Firethorn Mountains. She needed allies, and I hoped I knew where to find them.

  Turning my back on the window, I pulled my cloak around me, ensuring the dragonette was hidden inside its folds. My heart hammered as I cracked the door open. It was a long way out of the palace, and if the dragonette made a noise and drew attention to us I’d be in deep trouble. I’d find it hard to talk my way out of stealing Father’s pet. In Muirland, the punishment for theft was dismemberment. I wondered if my father would truly command my hands removed, and shivered because I couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t.

  I forced my thoughts away from ideas of disaster. I had no intention of being caught.

  “Silence,” I murmured to the dragonette with a final scratch of her head inside my cloak.

  I peered from the cracked-open door to find the guards continuing their game on the other side of Father’s bedroom door. Luck was with me. They were as far away as it was possible to get whilst remaining on the corridor. I slipped away from them and down the steps.

  Five minutes later I stepped into the palace gardens and dared to breathe again. The scent of honeysuckle filled the air and the tinkle of a fountain sounded to my right.

  I started across the neat lawns towards a deliberately-overgrown collection of rohannan bushes. The leafy, huge-blossomed shrubs filled a space between the palace walls and the lawns. I needed to get outside the grounds, but I couldn’t use the gates. They were always shut and always guarded. The princess would never be allowed out without a guard.