The Dragon's Torment Read online

  “Where’s Cori?” He repeated, approaching her.

  “Gone,” she responded. His stomach dropped painfully.

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  Saasha held up a slip of paper between her fingers. “I don’t know Dahl, but I don’t think she’s coming back.”

  Dahl snatched the paper from her hand and unfolded it. He stared at it for a long moment before thrusting it back. “I can’t read. Read it to me. Please.” He added, noticing the disapproving look on Saasha’s face.

  She hooked her dark hair behind her ear. “Saasha,” she read her own name, “It’s time to go. I love you.”

  “That’s it?” Dahl queried when Saasha said no more.

  “That’s it. Come on, Dahl, you must have known she couldn’t stay with us forever.”

  But she was going to be his wife. They were going to get married.

  Instead, she’d left him in the night as she’d always done. Broken-hearted, as she’d always done. He said his goodbyes to Saasha and trudged home, unable to keep the tears from spilling over. He timed his breathing with his steps but each breath exhaled with a shaking sob. His house felt more empty than it ever had before as he walked to the bedside dresser and picked up the silver ring, turning it over in his fingers before clutching it to his chest.

  She might come back, he told himself, as she’d always done.

  Chapter Two - Husband Of Mine

  Thirteen years post war | Yasana

  Head of State and he didn’t even have the decency to tell his wife he was going out. Worse than that, Yasana fumed as she stalked the dark corridors of the keep, she knew exactly where he was and she was unimpressed.

  Whispers followed that woman like a dog, and not a pleasant one at that, Yasana surmised. More than once she’d asked her husband to stay away. She’d begged and demanded in equal parts and he had always promised that he wouldn’t see her again except for official realm business.

  “She is the Karaliene,” he always ended their arguments in his most apologetic tone. “I cannot turn her away, even if I had the power to.” Well, the middle of the night was not the time for official business, no matter what he told her.

  Yasana paused momentarily at the nursery door. The frown smoothed from her face as she watched her first-born son slumber in his crib. A big lad, just like his father. She hoped that when he grew up, he would have more sense than the man who’d come before him.

  She closed the door softly and continued on her way. Already she wore her travelling cloak, and she pulled the hood over her head as she left the keep. The guards watched her go, but they didn’t question her. They probably thought she was a servant or messenger out for a late night errand.

  The streets were mostly quiet at that time of night, windows shuttered against the cold and bottles set on doorsteps awaiting the morning run of milk. The pavers glistened wet with recent rain and the further Yasana got from the keep, the more uneven they became.

  She didn’t have to wonder which tavern he was at; her darling husband was too predictable. Even if she’d had to guess, she thought as she rounded the last corner onto the street she’d been heading towards, he wouldn’t be hard to find. The noise spilling from his favourite haunt was raucous.

  Yasana stopped in the tavern's doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the dim interior. She searched the crowded room and found him sitting beside her at the bar. They leaned in close together, talking, then they both threw back their heads and roared with laughter.

  Some Karaliene, Yasana thought with disgust. What sort of royalty frequents back street taverns in the dead of night? The same could be said of her husband, she supposed. She pushed back her hood and the Karaliene’s eyes snapped immediately to hers. Yasana remembered how there had been blue in those eyes when she’d first met the Karaliene years ago. Not anymore. Now they were golden and in the dank tavern they seemed to glow all the more strangely. The Karaliene said something to Orin, and he turned hastily on his barstool.

  “Yasana!” He said guiltily. She lifted her chin and stormed into the tavern as patrons turned eagerly to watch the inevitable fight. When she reached the two of them she didn’t immediately confront Orin. Instead, she turned on the Karaliene and smacked the other woman across the face.

  The slap echoed in the sudden silence. The Karaliene looked shocked, then angry. She raised her own hands, perhaps to retaliate.

  “No, Cori!” Orin yelled. He lunged between Yasana and the Karaliene, pushing the latter’s hands skyward. Part of the roof exploded, showering them in plaster and wood. Yasana cried out in dismay, covering her head with her arms. She scurried back a few steps, heart in her throat.

  There was chaos around her and she briefly regretted her rash actions, but as the dust cleared and she saw Orin gripping tight to the Karaliene’s arm, speaking urgently to her, Yasana’s anger returned.

  “You stay away from my husband!” She cried. The Karaliene locked eyes with her and snarled, though thankfully she didn’t raise her hands again.

  “Yas, go back to the keep please,” Orin told her without letting go of the Karaliene. Yasana stared at him in disbelief. Was he truly siding with this woman over his wife? And in public?

  “Not until you come with me.”

  “Yasana, GET OUT!”

  Yasana reeled at his words. They may have had their disagreements over the years but never had he spoken to her so harshly. Her cheeks reddening under the scrutiny of the tavern patrons, she brushed dust from the shoulders of her cloak and stalked towards the door. She glanced back once to see Orin still speaking emphatically to the Karaliene before stepping out into the cool night air.

  Embarrassment crashed over her in hot waves. She wished she hadn’t sought out her husband. She’d made herself look like a jealous wife and no doubt her outburst would be all over Bandar Utara by morning. She dashed away an angry tear before it could slip down her cheek. How could Orin treat her so cruelly?

  She stopped at the end of the street in the shadows and turned to look back at the tavern. All the patrons were spilling out, making their way to their homes with loud voices and unbalanced steps. She heard more than one group discussing the confrontation.

  Last to exit the establishment was her husband and the Karaliene. Yasana stepped further into the shadows and watched them. They stood in the middle of the street until they were the only ones left. They spoke, but Yasana could only hear the murmur of their voices, then they both looked upwards to the sky. They stood like this long enough to make Yasana uncomfortable, then the Karaliene pressed a hand to her own chest, Orin touched her shoulder and they parted ways.

  Orin came up the street towards her and Yasana pressed herself back into a dark doorway to conceal herself. He stopped at the corner anyway and held out his hand. “I know you’re there.”

  Yasana hesitated then stepped from her hiding place, but she didn’t take his hand. “You love her,” she accused, realising how petty she sounded even as the words left her mouth. Orin sighed. He moved towards her and took her hand anyway.

  “I love you,” he assured her, as he always had. They began walking back to the keep.

  “She loves you.” Yasana couldn’t let the matter lie. Orin snorted.

  “She most certainly doesn’t love me, but you need to understand that what you did tonight was very dangerous. Cori could have killed you.”

  “Why they made someone as deranged as her the Karaliene, I’ll never know.”

  Orin squeezed her hand in warning. “When you speak of ‘they’, you are questioning my own judgements as Head of this State. How many times must I tell you this?”

  Yasana didn’t apologise, though she knew she ought to. She was still too angry.

  “Cori won’t be coming back,” Orin whispered. Yasana looked up at him; his breath misted before him in the cold night air. He looked sad, and she felt a twinge of guilt at her actions that night.

  “You’ve said that before.”

  They paused at the door to the keep.
Orin shooed the guards away with a wave of his hand and turned to face her. His expression was dark.

  “This is the last time I’ll say this. I love you more than all the stars combined, Yasana, but know that tonight you ended a very special friendship and you have cast a vulnerable woman to the wolves. Cori could have been a part of our family; an aunt to our son, a sister to you, but you have viewed her only with petty jealousy and I condemn you for that.”

  Orin stopped talking and Yasana once more felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Her husband’s words made her feel like a foolish school-girl.

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally. Orin shook his head.

  “It can’t be undone now.” Still, he took her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “I think it’s time for bed, eh?”

  They didn’t speak of the Karaliene again, though Yasana occasionally caught wind of her in state business that came from the Advisor in Lautan; but the woman hung over Yasana like one of the haunting spirit trees of the north and she wondered, as the tales of the Karaliene grew more severe, had she been the one to push her off the cliff edge?

  Chapter Three - The Caretaker’s Realm

  Thirty years post war | Antoni

  CORI STARED AT THE throne and Antoni stared at Cori.

  Minutes passed and the Page at Antoni’s side fidgeted nervously. She made a small gesture to bid him to be still then stepped forward to stand beside the Karaliene.

  They both stared at the throne.

  “How often does this happen?” Cori asked.

  “Once or twice a year,” Antoni replied. She shifted her notebook from one underarm to the other and they continued to stare. Why, of all days, did some idiot think today he could claim the throne and be the next Karalis?

  Slowly, as if someone had given an unheard command, Arasy untwisted his white wooden limbs from his prey and resumed the form of a chair. The broken man he’d been holding slid to the floor in an unflattering heap.

  Cori sighed and waved to the Page. “Clean him up.”

  The Page blanched, glancing wide eyed at Antoni as if hoping she would save him from the undesirable task. She certainly didn’t envy him, but she wouldn’t say so here.

  “Do as your Karaliene bids,” she told him sternly. The Page hurried forward, his face taking on a greenish tinge before he even reached the dais. Antoni would probably be sending someone to clean up his sick before he was done with the body.

  “Let’s walk,” said Cori. Antoni nodded and the two women left the throne room side by side through the arches that led to the public gardens. Court dwellers dropped to the ground in deference as they approached and Cori scowled at them as they passed. The Karalis certainly hadn’t taught his heir the finer forms of courtesy.

  Cori stopped when there was no one about and Antoni looked at her closely. While she herself was getting nearer to fifty years old, Cori looked as if she hadn’t aged beyond her twenties.

  And in her twenties had been the last time Antoni had seen her friend. Speckle-eyed and sad, now Cori’s eyes were golden and hard; her only feature that had aged at all.

  Only Orin had crossed paths with her since she’d left Balforde in the dead of night, but even that had been many years ago. Antoni had also heard rumours about the Karaliene having a hand in the disappearance of Shannyn, the Head of Hearth, but no one was able to confirm it.

  In any case, she’d been caught unprepared only a half hour ago when one of her Pages had come breathlessly to find her and inform her that the throne had taken another victim, and that a ‘gold-eyed lady’ was waiting for her.

  “How are you?” Antoni asked, finally breaking the silence between them. It was an odd question to ask someone you hadn’t seen in decades and by the look on her face, Cori thought so too.

  “I’m fine,” she responded in a tone that sounded like she was anything but. “Tell me, what’s happening in the realm?”

  Antoni deliberated over what to tell her. Cori had never been interested in the politics of the States and she couldn’t help but feel a trap looming. Her eyes fell to the notepad still in her hands.

  “We’re having some money troubles,” she said eventually. “The coffers are almost empty. I’m considering borrowing some from Dodici.”

  “Don’t do that,” Cori instructed. “I’ll find you some money.”

  Antoni looked away. She didn’t know where Cori would get money from; the woman didn’t look like she had a coin to her name.

  “What else?” Cori prompted. “What’s happening in Hearth?”

  So, she’d heard. Antoni gazed across the sea, frantically trying to sort words in her mind. She didn’t want to lie, nor did she want to downplay the situation.

  “Hearth is rebelling against the House. There are some factions - separate to the state, so I’m told - that have declared themselves enemies of the Dijem race and as an extension of that, the throne. They think you’re dangerous.”

  Cori’s jaw worked, but it was the only outward sign she gave at the news. “I’ll take care of them.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” Antoni said firmly, though she had to reframe from rubbing her sweating palms on her pants. Whilst Cori had taken direction from her in the past, it had been years since their last conversation and the Advisor wasn’t sure how well the Karaliene would respond anymore. “Relationships between Hearth and Shaw are tenuous at the moment. I want to avoid a civil war. We simply can’t afford it. And,” she added, “they’re just trying to draw you out. I don’t want you to take the bait and get hurt.”

  Cori said nothing and Antoni held her gaze firmly until the blonde woman looked away. The sound of the ocean crashing against the rocks below the cliffs filled the silence. A group of students strolled past, off to have their lunch break in the gardens. Cori’s gaze fixated on them and her fingers flexed at her sides as she watched them go.

  “Will you stay a while?” Antoni asked softly. “The suites are still kept ready for you.”

  Cori smiled but her eyes were sad. “Thank you, but I’ll stay in town.” She hesitated a moment then added awkwardly, “I’ll come back and visit tomorrow.”

  Antoni took her hand and squeezed it. “Please do.”

  BY THE FOLLOWING DAY Antoni had ordered the palace cleaned top to bottom. She was worried about Cori and she wanted her to stay for a while. She even ordered a new set of suites made up as it was clear Cori wanted nothing to do with those that had belonged to the Karalis.

  She made time in her schedule to write out a full report to give to Cori. Perhaps if she could fill her mind with other realm business, the Karaliene might forget about the issues in Hearth.

  As night fell, she was still waiting impatiently for Cori to return, but with no sign of their Karaliene, she conceded that Cori had skipped town and regrettably allowed the House staff to consume the feast they’d prepared in her honour.

  Within weeks Antoni was receiving reports of faction leaders in Hearth disappearing without a trace. She had no doubt Cori was behind it and her suspicions were confirmed when, after a year of not being heard from, the Karaliene emerged with a Shaw army at her back and declared war on the rebellious state.

  Antoni struggled to keep the rest of the realm on its leash as Cori stormed through Hearth, leaving devastation in her wake. When the Karaliene publicly executed the Head of Hearth - a descendant of Shannyn - Antoni began to quietly plan her retirement. She’d done her best to hold it together, but with the Karaliene accountable to no-one, the realm was damned.

  Chapter Four - Sister Mine

  Fifty years post war | Saasha

  Saasha coughed and nestled back into the plump pillows behind her. Despite the painful disease eating away at her lungs, she was as comfortable as she could be.

  “Can I get you anything, Ma?” Bel asked quietly from where she sat with her knitting in the corner of the room.

  Saasha shook her head before she was wracked with a coughing fit. Bel, her eldest daughter, waited until it had finished before b
ringing her a glass of water. Damn this old body. She wished it would hurry up and release her spirit back to the earth already.

  “Any letters today?” She asked Bel when she was able to speak again.

  “Only one from Orin,” Bel sifted through a pile of papers on a table by the door and handed a letter to her mother. Saasha unfolded it and held it close so she could read the words with her failing eyesight.

  Dear Saasha,

  How lovely to hear from you - I hope your cough isn’t giving you too much grief.

  No, I haven’t heard directly from Cori but there were reports of her being seen near my borders when the anti-Dijem factions tried to cross the river into Resso. I have to give her credit, she seems to be single-handedly keeping them confined within Hearth’s borders.

  A Dijem man was caught and hung in Tengah as a show of defiance. I haven’t been able to find out who he was other than he was travelling alone from the west.

  Did you hear about the new Advisor, Antoni’s successor? Not even a decade into the job and he tried to sit on the throne. Well, we all know what happens when a man gets foolish enough to think he can take on that cursed chair. In any case, I’m sending a man down to see if he can’t take hold of the estates before Hale or Hearth think to try.

  if you -

  Saasha sighed and lowered the letter.

  “Put it in the chest,” she held it out for Bel to take, resisting the urge to scowl at the way her weathered hand shook. She watched as her daughter folded the letter and placed it in the wooden chest on the end of the bed. “Is everything in order?” She asked, and not for the first time that day. She saw Bel suppress a sigh.

  “It’s in order. You know it’s in order.”

  “Tell me again.”

  Bel looked as if she might refuse, but one look at her ailing mother and she sat down at the edge of her bed with a small smile.