Rise of the Dragon Queen Read online

“You will do nothing,” Silvia replied. “She will be going with me.”

  This shocked Hapshamin. “With you?”

  “Yes, with me. She needs to be some place where she is treated more humanly, and I lost a servant yesterday and will be in need of another. Now, if all of you will excuse me, I will be leaving. I have had enough excitement for one evening.”

  “As you wish, milady,” said the King, bowing.

  She whirled around and told the servant who had assisted Motilda into the room to please take Motilda to her cart. The man nodded, scooped up the frail girl from the floor, and followed Silvia’s swishing skirts down the hall, her red fox trailing beside her.

  “Remarkable woman,” Prince Dalton said.

  “Yes, indeed. A blow like that should have sent her to the floor,” Sir Grant said, glaring at the king.

  Hapshamin ignored his comment. “I don’t know quite what to make of her,” the King said, “but I intend to know her better.” He called forth Borys and whispered into the manservant’s ear. He did not see the ill looks from his two guests as they exited the room to see Silvia to the door.

  All of her servants gathered at the cart. Motilda was carried inside it and laid down on the floor. As her other servants climbed into the cart the prince and Sir Grant came outside to bid Silvia farewell and to see if she was really all right. They encouraged her to come and stay at the palace, where they were staying also, so that they could help look out for her. Though she barely knew them, the thought of more people looking out for her made her feel more at ease. But that idea quickly turned dark as she thought of the consequences they would endure should she be found out.

  Hans, Maura, Dilliby, and Frero exchanged puzzled glances over the servant girl until the cart was well away from the palace. Then Silvia explained what had happened in a hurried whisper. When she finished, Quentin spoke up angrily from an unseen spot.

  “What Silvia hasn’t told you is that she got in the way of the King’s backhand by pushing the servant girl out of the way. Her mouth and nose were bleeding. I don’t see how she didn’t fall down—it was a strong blow.”

  “What?” roared Hans. His eyes bulged in their sockets as he shifted to the edge of the seat. Frero looked over his shoulder as he snapped the reins to make them go faster. “With all due respect, Mistress, what were you thinking?” He lifted her veil to inspect her face.

  “I was thinking of the woman’s life and the abuse she had already taken,” she said sharply. “If I had not done something, she would not have her whole life ahead of her. A queen has to look out for her people.”

  Moaning was heard just then as Motilda raised her head. She wiped her eyes in amazement and said, “Begging everyone’s pardon, but where am I?”

  “In the company of Lady Serena of Alwak,” said Maura gravely, “who apparently just saved you from certain death.”

  “C-certain death?” Motilda stuttered. “Me?”

  “Yes,” said Hans in a flat tone. “That wretch of a King was ordering you to be hanged tomorrow morning. But Lady Serena kindly stepped in and took you into her custody.”

  Motilda’s brown eyes turned to Silvia. “My lady,” she said, “I humble myself before your grace. I would gladly kiss your hand, if I were not so filthy.”

  “Well we shall take care of that at the inn,” Silvia told her. Her nose had not been idle from the servant girl’s smell.

  True to her word, as soon as they had returned to the Home Away From Home Silvia ordered the innkeeper to start boiling water for her room, as well as the men’s. She felt that they all needed to be rinsed clean of thoughts and wash away all fears. They were all afraid for her and she knew it. She was afraid too. She had half expected someone to lift her veil and inspect her face when Gregorich had slapped her and the very thought terrified her. She also knew that everyone was angry with her for putting herself in harm’s way, especially Quentin and Keelan.

  As Silvia sat on her bed, eyes closed, a voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “My lady? Can we all meet after everyone bathes? We need to talk about tomorrow.”

  She breathed in Keelan’s musky smell from where he kneeled before her, but did not open her eyes. She loved to listen to his velvety voice; it almost seemed to lure her into a trance. “Yes,” she whispered. She heard him stand up and leave the room. When her eyelids parted she saw that the adjoining door was shut and latched and there were fresh towels on a small table next to the bathtub.

  Sighing, Silvia slid her shoes off and waited for Maura to unpin her nuuisaket and undo her hair, brushing it as it cascaded down her back like a dark, curly red waterfall. The back of her skintight dress was untied and loosened. Finally naked, she stepped into the tub and lay down, flipping her mass of hair over the back of the tub so it wouldn’t get wet again. She relaxed in the water for a little bit, then got out and toweled herself off. She slipped into the gown she had worn the night before and told Maura to go ahead and bathe. Maura did so in a hurry, saying that they still had to clean Motilda.

  Chapter Two: Revelations of a Servant

  When Motilda’s turn came it took quite a while to cleanse her. Her clothes were stripped off and thrown into a pile beside the grate to be burned. There were a few little bruises here and there on her body, but nothing so bad as her forehead. She gasped when she slid down in the tub, for the water was still hot and she was not used to bathing in hot water. They let her soak for a while, and then gathered up the soap and scrubbed her body until she cried out in pain. But they were merely trying to rid the girl of all the grime embedded into her skin. Next, her hair was soaped up and that alone nearly finished off the large lump of soap. Maura dug her fingernails into Motilda’s scalp to get all of the dry skin and filth worked loose. When the girl finally exited the washtub, the color of the water was a nasty brown and white from all the dead skin and dirt. Before she was dressed, a brush was taken to her hair and the numerous tangles were eventually worked out.

  Silvia retrieved an extra sleeping gown from her trunk, but before Motilda put it on the two women made her lie down on Maura’s bed so that they could determine the extent of Urich’s damage. The only problem was that her womanhood was very red and a little swollen. Silvia decided to take her to Zander in the morning just in case.

  “He healed my shoulder, Maura. Surely he would be able to do something for her if it pains her.”

  “I noticed that when you bathed earlier, milady. Apparently you neglected to tell me of your healing.”

  “I had other things on my mind. He healed Quentin as well.”

  “We shall visit him come morning,” Maura said. She gazed at their new roommate. “In the meantime, you will eat. You can’t possible weigh more than ninety pounds, child.” Donning a heavy green robe, she went downstairs. A few minutes later she returned with a platter full of food and carried it over to Motilda, who had by then dressed in the nightgown. The girl began wolfing down the food without using the knife and fork provided. It did not take her very long at all to finish and she did not leave even a crumb on the tray.

  “I say! When was the last time that you ate?” asked Maura.

  Motilda closed her eyes, counting on her fingers. Finally she said, “Well my husband passed away a week ago and I’ve only eaten once since then—at his funeral dinner to honor him.”

  “It’s no wonder you are so tiny,” Silvia said. “You need some meat on those bones, lest you wish to become a walking skeleton. It is not in the least becoming of you.”

  “Mistress, are you all dressed?” came Frero’s voice through the door.

  Silvia fetched a blanket to cover Motilda’s nightgown and got her robe on as well. Maura went and unlocked the door, letting in the gentlemen. Everyone gathered and the events of the night were picked through carefully so that everyone knew what had happened to everyone else. It was not long before the discussion of the most importance came upon them: Gregorich’s proposal to stay at the palace.

  “This is most serious, Mis
tress,” Hans said. “Whatever decision you make you shall have to be careful about. Consequences abound in all directions.” He glanced at Motilda, choosing his words carefully.

  “And it is your decision,” said Keelan.

  “Yes, for you are the true crown-bearer of Darkania,” Motilda said. Everyone stared at her in astonishment; Keelan’s mouth hung open. “What?” she said. “Do not act so dumbfounded. I did not know it was she until she removed that veil and hair cover.”

  “What gave me up?” Silvia asked in horror. Surely it wasn’t so easy as that!

  “A couple of things gave you away. First, I have many a family member in Alwak, and I can guarantee you that neither they, nor I, have ever heard of a ‘Lady Serena’ of your age and beauty. Secondly, you look exactly like Queen Madeline.”

  “You’re not old enough to remember her, are you?” Quentin asked suspiciously. He had kept himself invisible the whole ride back, and had not removed the cloak until he and the other men were alone in their room.

  Their newest companion kept staring at his face and his hair in disbelief, most likely wondering how such a young man came by such startling white hair. Motilda shook her head, tearing her eyes away from Quentin once again. “Hardly. In the palace, on the third floor near one of the back towers, there is a large room that stays locked all of the time. It is forbidden to all except Gregorich himself, unless he sends you there for the spring cleaning of all the rooms in that part of the palace, and I am the one who has done that for the past four years.”

  “What’s in the room?” Quentin and Keelan asked simultaneously.

  Silvia’s heart was beating wildly as she listened to the answer. What was Gregorich Hapshamin keeping in there?

  Motilda eyed her companions nervously, giving the impression of a scared animal. “He locks me inside the room with cleaning tools, a jug of watered wine, and a loaf of bread. I clean the room and wait for him to let me out at nightfall. He calls it a storage room, but it is more than that. I have heard many a servant talk of him locking himself in there for hours, but only in the night time; and he doesn’t even take a candle in there. Perhaps he goes there to remind himself of his past, but he does not want to see it. I cannot say for certain. They say he talks to himself, but the walls are thick and the words are muffled. I’ve even heard that some servants have heard him wailing in there like a lost child. That’s strange, because inside the room are all of the items that were your mother and father’s. There are beautiful paintings, mostly of your family. There are very old dressers and wardrobes and chests-of-drawers filled with any manner of things.”

  “Is there anything of great importance in the room?” Silvia inquired. Her parents’ things! What she wouldn’t give to hold something they had once touched…

  “Well, I am sure everything in that room is of some importance to you, milady. There are heaps and heaps of all sorts of gold, silver, precious stones, and jewelry. Gregorich even kept the magnificent crowns they wore, even though he does not wear either. There are hundreds of books too. All of them lined up on shelves or stacked on large tables. There is a giant desk with all sorts of papers and books atop it, but most of them are in an unreadable language. There is also a big, tall drawer in the right side of the desk, but it will not open. I have always wondered what occupied it.”

  Silvia sighed heavily, her shoulders stooped. “This information makes my decision harder,” she said, gloomy in thought. She felt an irresistible urge to search through every little thing in that room.

  “Share what you are thinking; it might make your choices easier and more clear,” offered Frero.

  Silvia took his wise advice. “I shall make a mental list of the ‘goods’ and ‘bads’. Let me list the ‘bads’ so that they will be cast out of my mind for at least a few moments:

  I don’t care for Gregorich whatsoever and would despise living with him in my own home.

  He is suspicious of everything and chances are good that I’d be found out.

  If I say ‘yes’ to him, it is possible that he might confine my person to the palace grounds; I wouldn’t be free to do as I wished about the city, and I may not be allowed to leave.

  He cares nothing for you, Motilda, and most likely despises you for this evening’s events. This would create extra tensions, which we do not need.

  If we are caught conspiring against that no-good mongrel we would all be done away with quicker than we could blink.

  There is always a chance he could find out I’m not from Alwak, and that could cause great troubles. It was not hard for Motilda to figure out that my said origins were false.

  The servants and Guards will be watching everything I do and say for the palace gossip, which will get around to Gregorich. If I should make any sort of slip, the whole of Darkania would know before nightfall...Death by rumor.

  The King’s dinners will present me to all of his guests, making me more noticeable, not to mention the talk of the city. Tonight proved there were several who already showed interest in my person.

  Prince Dalton has acted almost too friendly towards me. I should hate to have to break his ideas for he and I, whatever they may be, but this is not the time to be romanced. A suitor who wishes to know everything about you and go everywhere you go is a dangerous suitor, at least for me.”

  She paused to take a couple of breaths. “Now for the ‘goods’:

  The quickest way to get to know your enemy and their weaknesses is to befriend them. This wouldn’t be difficult if I were staying there.

  This Prince Dalton, as well as many of the Guards and servants could give us useful information on Gregorich.

  He might let me explore the palace without an escort.

  I would be able to discern the images engraved in the garden, which may help me in my destiny.

  I might be able to steal the key to the storage room, or find out if anyone else has a copy of it.

  I might be able to find a way to kill Gregorich and prove I am the true heir to the throne. Or better yet—maybe I could find a way to make him reveal himself to the city as a fraud and return my title to me without turning my people against me.”

  She fell silent, lost in the thoughts that forested her frustrated mind. Everyone thought about what she had said. The bad things most definitely outweighed the good ones, and this disheartened all. Hans had been only too right when he had said that consequences would abound in all directions. It would be an extremely difficult choice, and Silvia’s alone. They were flabbergasted when she spoke her next words.

  “I will do it. I will stay until I can find out how and when to overthrow him. May the Parent Gods damn him; he shouldn’t be there to begin with! I will make him pay for my family’s disruptions. I will honor them and do my duty. I will be queen of this city if I die trying…which I very well might.”

  Hans left the room, slamming the door behind him as Maura hung her head and began to cry.

  Silvia entered into strange dreams as soon as her head hit the pillow. She was walking in a stone corridor somewhere in the palace, whose walls stretched high above, the ceiling staying in darkness. She was holding a single candle and was dressed in a sheer nightgown. Her feet were bare and the cold stones bit into them. She wished she had donned a robe, for the air was chilly and made goose bumps on her arms.

  Along one particularly long corridor she came upon a large group of people. They were standing in a circle, silent, staring at something in the midst of them all. As Silvia approached, two of the people stepped back to the side and let her through.

  Lying on the floor was Gregorich Hapshamin, in a fetal position mumbling to himself. When he saw her, his face began to take on a change. Two nubs sprouted from his forehead, growing into a pair of spiraling horns. His eyes turned a muddy, but bright orange and did not blink. His mouth opened to reveal wicked pointed teeth and a red forked tongue. His hands, balled into fists, uncurled into talons with great yellow nails. Roaring, he jumped up and lunged at her.
r />   Terrified and screaming, she whirled about to run, but ran into Keelan. He wrapped his arms around her so tight that she dropped her candle and clung to him. She felt nothing less than safe. Without saying a word, he picked her up and carried her at a run into a distant part of the palace. He went into a gigantic bedroom, shut the door with his foot, and laid her down on top of the softest bed she could ever have imagined. She reached for his face to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t move.

  Taking her hands he gazed at her, into her, and said, “Are you taken?”

  Then blackness prevailed and she slept deeply.

  In the dream he was a court jester, making jokes and performing for King Gregorich, who was perched on his chair in the throne room. Silvia was sitting in a large wooden chair beside him, her veil obscuring her face and hair. Everyone was laughing heartily, himself included.