Realm of Dragons

A dragon’s egg.

That was impossible. How long had it been since someone had seen a dragon? Even those stories were of great winged beasts flying the skies, not of eggs. Dragons were never helpless, small things. They were huge and terrifying and impossible. But Nerra couldn’t think what else this could be.

And now the choice is mine.

She knew she couldn’t just walk away now that she’d seen the egg here, abandoned with no sign of a nest the way a bird would lay its clutch. If she did that, the odds were that something would simply come and eat the egg, destroying the creature within. That, or there would be people, and she had no doubt that they would sell it. Or crush it out of fear. People could be cruel sometimes.

She couldn’t take it home with her either. Imagine that, walking through the gates of the castle with a dragon’s egg in her hands. Her father would have it taken from her in a heartbeat, probably for Master Grey to study. At best, the creature within would find itself caged and poked at. At worst… Nerra shuddered at the thought of the egg being dissected by scholars of the House of Knowledge. Even Physicker Jarran would probably want to take it apart to study it.

Where then?

Nerra tried to think.

She knew the woods as well as she knew the path to her chambers. There had to be somewhere that would be better than simply leaving the egg in the open…

Yes, she knew just the place.

She wrapped her arms around the egg, the heat of it strange against her body as she lifted it. It was heavy, and for a moment Nerra was worried she might drop it, but she managed to clasp her hands together and start off through the woods.

It took a while to find the spot that she was looking for, looking out for the aspen trees that signaled the small space where the old cave was, marked out by stones that were long since mossed over. It opened in the side of a small hill in the midst of the wood, and Nerra could see from the ground around it that nothing had decided to use it as a resting place. That was good; she didn’t want to take her prize somewhere it would be in fresh danger.

The clearing suggested that dragons didn’t make nests, but Nerra made one for the egg anyway, collecting twigs and branches, brush and grass, then weaving all of it slowly into a rough oval on which she was able to rest the egg. She pushed the whole thing back into the dark half of the cave, confident that nothing would be able to see it from outside.

“There,” she said to it. “You’ll be safe now, at least until I work out what to do with you.”

She found tree branches and foliage, deliberately covering the entrance. She took rocks and rolled them into place, each so big she could barely move it. She hoped it would be enough to keep away all the things that might try to get inside.

She was just finishing when she heard a sound and turned with a start. There among the trees was the boy she had glimpsed before. He stood there staring at her as if trying to work out what he’d seen.

“Wait,” Nerra called out to him, but the very shout was enough to startle him. He turned and ran off, leaving Nerra wondering exactly what he had seen, and who he would tell.

She had a sinking feeling that it was too late.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Princess Erin knew she shouldn’t be here, riding through the forest on the way north to the Spur. She should be back at the castle, being fitted for a dress for her older sister’s wedding, but just the thought of it was enough to make her wince.

It brought too many thoughts of what might be waiting for her next, and why she’d left. At the very least, she would rather be riding here in tunic, doublet, and breeches than standing there playing dress-up while Rodry made fun of her with his friends, and Greave moped about, and Vars… Erin shuddered. No, better to be out here, doing something useful, something that would prove she was more than just some daughter to marry off.

She rode through the forest, taking in the plants along the side of the path as she passed, even though those were more Nerra’s fascination than hers. She rode past broad oak and silver birch, seeing the shadows they cast and trying not to think about all the spaces those shadows gave for someone to hide.

Her father would probably be angry with her for coming out without an escort. Princesses needed to be protected, he would tell her. They didn’t wander off alone into places like this, places where the trees seemed to close in and the path was little more than a suggestion. He would be angry at her for more than that, of course. He probably thought she hadn’t heard the conversation with her mother, the one that had sent her off practically running for the stables.

“We need to find a husband for Erin,” her mother had said.

“A husband? She’s as likely to ask for more sword lessons,” her father had replied.

“And that’s the point. A girl shouldn’t be doing such things, putting herself in that kind of danger. We need to find a husband for her.”

“After the wedding,” her father had said. “There will be plenty of nobles there for the feasting and the hunting. Maybe we can find a young man who will make a suitable husband for her.”

“We might need to offer a dowry for her.”

“Then we will. Gold, a dukedom, whatever is most suitable for my daughter.”

The betrayal had been instant, and absolute. Erin had strode to her room to gather her things: her staff and her clothes, a pack full of supplies. She had sworn to herself then that she wouldn’t be coming back.

“Besides,” she said to her horse, “I’m old enough to do what I want.”

She might be the youngest of all her siblings, but she was still sixteen. She might not be everything her mother wanted—too boyish with her dark hair cut at shoulder level where it wouldn’t get in the way, never inclined to sew or curtsey or play the harp—but she was still more than capable of looking after herself.

At least, she thought she was.

She would have to be, if she wanted to join the Knights of the Spur. Just the name of their order made Erin’s heart leap. They were the finest warriors of the realm, every name among them a hero. They served her father, but also rode out righting wrongs and fighting foes that no others could. Erin would give anything to join them.

That was why she was riding north, to the Spur. That was also why she was taking this route, through parts of the forest long thought dangerous.

She rode on, taking in the place. Any other time, it would have been beautiful, but then, any other time, she wouldn’t have been here. Instead, she looked around, eyes darting, all too aware of the shadows on each side of the path, the way the branches brushed at her as she rode. It was a place where she could imagine someone disappearing, never to return.

Even so, it was the route she had to take if she was going to reach the Knights of the Spur. Especially if she wanted to be able to impress them when she got there. Set beside that, her fear didn’t matter.

“Why don’t you stop there?” a voice from further along the forest path called.

There. Erin felt a brief thrill of fear at the words, the flutter running up through her belly. She drew her horse to a halt, then swung down from the saddle smoothly. Almost as an afterthought, she took down her short staff, gloved hands carrying it lightly.

“Now, what do you think you’re going to do with that stick?” the man from further down the forest path said. He stepped out, dressed in rough-spun clothes and holding a hatchet. Two more men stepped out from the trees behind Erin, one holding a long knife, the other an arming sword that suggested he might once have fought on behalf of a nobleman.

“Back in a village I passed through,” Erin said, “they told me about bandits in the forest.”

They didn’t seem to think it was odd that she’d come here anyway. Erin could feel the fear inside her. Should she have come here? She’d had plenty of training bouts, but this… this was different.

“Looks as though we’re famous, boys,” the leader called out with a laugh.

Famous was one word for it. In the village, she’d spoken to a young woman who was traveling with her husband. She had said that even when they gave these men everything they had, they still wanted more, and they took it. She had detailed all of it to Erin, and Erin had wished she’d had Lenore’s way with people, or Nerra’s compassion. Erin didn’t have either; all she had was this.

“They say you kill those who fight,” Erin said.

“Well then,” the leader said. “You’ll know not to fight.”

“Barely worth it,” one of the others said. “Hardly a girl at all.”

“You’re complaining?” the leader shot back. “The things you’ve done with boys as well?”

Erin stood there, waiting. The fear was still there, and it had grown into a monstrous thing, a bear-sized thing that threatened to crush her into immobility. She shouldn’t have come here. This wasn’t a training bout, and she had never truly fought anyone before. She was just a young woman who was about to be killed, or worse…

No. Erin thought about that, thought about the woman from the village, and she forced the fear down, under the anger.

“If you want to make this easy on yourself, you’ll hand over everything you have. The horse, your valuables, everything.”