Daybreak Page 2

  Now that the other rulers were slain and the seas had … refused, an offer of treaty, Crevan had nowhere else to turn. He would have to call upon D’Mere — and she would see to it that his army fell into Titus’s trap.

  But she discovered too late that she’d been fooled.

  Her plan hadn’t worked. She’d wagered far too much on Crevan’s fury. She’d been certain that Titus’s betrayal would drive him to the summit, where the elements and the wilds would devour his army. But Midlan wasn’t going to the mountains at all.

  No, Crevan planned to go to war with the Kingdom, to tighten the reins and bring every region back under his control. The battles would be bloody and quick. With the thrones of the Sovereign Five broken, there wasn’t an army left that could stand against the wrath of the King — and D’Mere’s army was no exception.

  Crevan insisted that he’d sent his men into the Grandforest for her protection. The letter that’d arrived along with his army was dripping with concerns for her safety: what if the war spilled over into the Grandforest? What if militants marched upon his final ruler in revolt? Crevan wasn’t prepared to take that chance.

  But D’Mere knew it was all a lie. The soldiers camped far too thickly in the village, far too boldly before her gates. They questioned anyone who left and inspected every ware the merchants brought inside. D’Mere had a feeling that if she tried to leave, she would be locked away. And if she so much as twitched to fight, there were enough soldiers gathered in Lakeshore to slaughter every man, woman, and child twice over — and they would move at Crevan’s nod.

  She was being held prisoner, a captive in her own realm …

  A calloused hand wrapped around one of D’Mere’s shaking arms. She knew its touch well enough to feel the question in its hold. “Crevan must’ve figured out about Titus’s monsters. By spy or bird, his eyes have somehow reached the mountains’ top. He knows that I’ve betrayed him. So he’s trapped me here and left Titus to rot at the summit. That’s all I can think of.”

  The hand tightened.

  “No.” D’Mere smirked, and her anger cooled. “No, Crevan won’t kill me. He fears me. He knows a battle with the Grandforest would leave him sore, and he’d much rather take me alive. He’ll trap me here until I give myself up.”

  The hand fell away, and D’Mere turned to glare at the young man beside her: a forest man with short-cropped hair and a slightly crooked nose. When his dark eyes roved to the lights beyond the castle gates, D’Mere shook her head.

  “You’d be killed before you could do me any good, Left. Our moment will come — I promise it will,” she said when his brows snapped low. “Just give me time.”

  They stood silently for a moment before Left reached for her again. His head turned expectantly to the door. A moment later, it opened.

  D’Mere wasn’t at all surprised when a second forest man stepped through — one who matched Left down to the angle of his crooked nose. The twins had always been connected strangely. They seemed able to sense each other’s presence, seemed to know when the other had come to harm. They’d never once spoken a word.

  But she supposed they didn’t have to.

  D’Mere frowned at Right. “What is it? You’re supposed to be watching the village.”

  He stepped aside to let another man through.

  Filth coated him so thickly that he left prints across the chamber floors. There was grime caked beneath his nails and in the creases of his arms. The hems of his trousers hung in tatters. His face was cloaked, but D’Mere knew from his plain black garb that he was one of her spies. There was a muted emblem in the clasp of his cloak — set so shallowly that only a certain angle of light would give its shape away.

  When the man twisted to shut the door, the light caught it and she saw a burning sun upon the clasp. It seemed her agent from the desert had finally returned. She’d sent him away months ago to discover what had become of Baron Sahar — and for his sake, she hoped he’d discovered something useful.

  “Well?” she snapped as he shuffled towards her.

  The spy didn’t answer. He stopped a few paces short and froze. His body swayed and his hands hung limply at his sides.

  He staggered backwards when D’Mere shoved him. “Are you drunk? Answer me!”

  The spy stood, wavering for such a long moment that D’Mere was about to have him locked away. She would wait to execute him when he was sober. But just before she could give the order, a voice whispered from beneath the spy’s hood.

  It gurgled inside his throat and came out in a strangled hiss: “I’m … coming for you … D’Mere.”

  Her chest tightened; her throat went dry. “What do you mean?”

  The spy laughed — or rather, he tried to. But the noise sounded as if he choked on blood. His hand inched toward the dagger in his belt. “D’Mere … D’Mere,” he tsked. “You knew what the boy was … didn’t you? Convinced me to spare him … left me to die. Me, your closest ally.”

  Ice snaked through her veins, growing colder as the voice continued. Left pulled on her arm, but her legs were too frozen to move.

  “I want him … need him for my army … you owe me that much. And I mean … to take what is owed. D’Mere … D’Mere …” The spy gripped the dagger’s hilt as his voice crept into an eerie, gloating song: “I’m coming for you … D’Mere.”

  The spy ripped the dagger free and lunged for her throat.

  Instead, he met the tip of Left’s sword.

  Though the blade tore through his chest, the spy didn’t seem to notice. He shoved himself further, drove the steel deeper. Blood gushed upon the floor. His hood fell away as he threw himself into one final heave, and D’Mere couldn’t believe what she saw.

  The dark was gone from his eyes, replaced by two deadened orbs of white. Wounds festered across his face — scratches and punctures that had never quite healed. She tried not to think about the brownish stains around his lips.

  Left kicked the spy back and Right hurled him down by the cloak.

  “Cut off the head,” D’Mere whispered.

  She barely heard the spy’s gurgling screams or the swift fall of Right’s sword. What little fear she’d felt was gone, vanished. Her mind was already set upon the game ahead.

  When Left grabbed her shoulder, she pushed his hand away. “I’m fine. In fact, I think we may be able to use this to our advantage.” D’Mere lifted the hems of her nightdress and stepped absently over the body upon the floor, careful not to dirty her slippers. “Come with me — both of you. There’s much to be done.”

  *******

  “You’ve done this to yourself. This is what happens to little beasts who don’t listen to their masters.”

  The grand room shook with Devin’s anguished roar; the windows rattled. King Crevan stood with his back pressed against the door as the dragon rent the floor with his claws. Chips of stone sprayed up in a stinging wave behind him as he flailed.

  Ulric stood a mere arm’s reach from the dragon’s monstrous snout. A length of silver chain was wrapped around his wrist. He pressed his thumb against one of its links, and it came to life with an angry red glow.

  Devin flinched against every pulse of the chain’s light. His body shook as Ulric’s hand twisted, as he forced his great wings to shrink back inside his flesh. Human skin stretched over Devin’s scales. Blood trickled from its edges as it grew — the rim of foam ahead of the tide.

  But though he roared, Devin never blinked.

  His burning yellow eyes stayed locked upon Ulric — even as his horns shrank and the spines atop his head gave way to a dark crop of hair. Soon the dragon was gone and a young man lay upon the floor in his place. His clothes were torn to rags. Blackened ridges of scales burst through his skin in places, the flesh red and swollen around them.

  But though he’d been twisted into a human shape, he kept the dragon’s eyes — and the hatred in his stare was enough to make Crevan’s blood freeze to the bottom of his veins.

  Ulric didn’t seem to n
otice. In fact, he drank it in. “I think that’s enough for today … yes, you understand me now, don’t you? The next time I call, I wager you’ll come straight back.” He twisted to snap his fingers at a pair of guards who’d been assigned to the grand room. They’d started out at Ulric’s side — but wound up stuck very firmly against the back wall. “Lock him up with the others. I’ll send word when I’m ready to continue.”

  The guards moved stiffly towards Devin. Neither seemed willing to touch him: they prodded him with the butts of their spears until he rose, and pushed him out by their points.

  Crevan stepped aside to let them through, careful not to look Devin in the eyes as he passed. They reminded him of another gaze, another blazing hatred:

  I’m going to teach you, Crevan. Let me show —

  No. He shoved her voice aside and blinked hard against the memory, forcing it back. Even after her image faded, his skin crawled and his fists curled tightly. He told himself it was anger that burned in the pit of his stomach.

  But it wasn’t.

  Ulric kept his back turned as the guards marched away. The moment they closed the door, he collapsed on hand and knee.

  Sweat beaded up across his neck and wept in lines to the collar of his robes — dulling the golden threads with damp. His ears had grown abnormally large from all the years he’d spent listening to the thoughts of Crevan’s beasts. Now they were stretched so thinly that they were almost transparent. The blue veins that webbed across their backs were clearly inflamed.

  “That dragon’s going to kill me, Your Majesty. Sometimes he obeys, other times his will is strong … nearly too strong. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to control him,” Ulric rasped. He held his wrist out to the side, and the silver chains wrapped around it almost seemed to squirm in the torchlight. “The impetus has grown too heavy. I can’t bear it on my own.”

  It was always the same complaint, always the same ragged moan — and Crevan was growing tired of hearing it. “I’ve given you the run of my mages. Find someone else to carry the other chains.”

  “I’ve been trying, Your Majesty. But this is a living impetus. Its power grows with each new link. It feeds off the creatures it controls — and if a mage isn’t strong enough to wield it, the chains will devour him.” Ulric nodded to the front of the room, where a number of shriveled bones lay piled in a corner.

  They’d tried several times to pass the links on to the other fortress mages: some who had more experience, others who were young and strong. But the chain had devoured each one.

  It’d snaked up their bodies and coiled around them tightly. Crevan didn’t look away the first time it happened. He’d watched the chain crush an older mage beneath it. The impetus had drained him of everything: his blood, his marrow, his innards. It’d soaked him up, screaming, like water into a sponge. Then it’d slunk back to Ulric and wrapped around his arm, glowing in content.

  “No, there’s only one mage in the fortress who might be strong enough to bear it.” Ulric’s eyes dragged upwards. There were dark, heavy rings beneath them. “I await your order.”

  Crevan knew what he wanted. For whatever reason, Ulric was convinced that Argon was the only mage strong enough to carry the chains — which might solve their problem, if it were true.

  But if it wasn’t …

  “I won’t risk my Seer. As long as the Dragongirl remains unbound —”

  “The Seer is blind! What good is he to us —?”

  “Silence,” Crevan growled. The whole impetus came alive at his command, and Ulric’s mouth snapped shut. “You forget, mage, that I could end you with a word. Do not interrupt me again.”

  Sweat slung off the archmage’s chin as his head bobbed up and down.

  “Good. I’ve taken care of D’Mere, but I’ll need your mages for the chancellor’s castle. I’d like all the councilmen burned alive in their chairs and the island sunk to the ocean’s bottom. The people of the High Seas should never have any reason to believe they can survive on their own. Leave them with nothing — make sure they are never able to rebuild.”

  Ulric moaned as he nodded.

  “As for the dragon,” Crevan went on, “I believe the time has come —”

  “Your Majesty?” a guard called from the door. He leaned around it carefully, as if he preferred to keep a few inches of oak between his chest and Crevan’s sword. “It’s the Seer, Your Majesty. He says he needs to speak with you.”

  “Send him in,” Crevan growled.

  The guard stepped aside and Argon shuffled quietly into the room. His head was bent low and nearly hidden by his long, gray beard. He was so thin and frail a thing that a single trip down the stairs might’ve left him in pieces — and he moved at a pace that made Crevan want to strangle him with his beard.

  “What is it?” he snapped.

  “Your Majesty,” Argon whispered, his voice hardly a breath. “I have news.”

  “No he doesn’t.” Ulric lurched forward. “He knows he’s useless. He’s just trying to save his sk —”

  “Silence!” Crevan glared until Ulric slunk back. Then he turned to Argon. “What news?”

  The Seer raised his head, revealing the thick trail of blood matted into his beard. It’d run out from his nose and spilled down in falls. His nostrils were still swollen from the pain. “I’ve Seen something, Your Majesty … a powerful vision.”

  Crevan could hardly breathe. “Tell me.”

  “The Dragongirl …”

  His stomach twisted; his blood froze again. “Yes, what about her? Speak up, Seer!”

  Crevan grabbed Argon by the front of his robes and shook him hard. The Seer’s eyes rolled back as if he clung to life. “Copperdock,” he rasped. “I’ve Seen her in … Copperdock.”

  Crevan shoved him aside. His legs shook as he stumbled towards the guard. “Sound the bells, have my army ready to march at dawn! I will fill the Kingdom with Midlan’s fury. We’ll stretch to every corner of the realm. She will not escape!”

  He chased the guards out the door, bellowing at them long after they’d scattered down the hall. Then he spun to Argon. “Get in your tower, Seer. Do not sleep, do not blink. I want to know where she is at every moment. Do you understand?”

  Argon’s head sagged as he shuffled for the door. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Crevan grabbed Ulric and hurled him away. “Forget about the council. I’ll send Greyson to deal with them once the ground has thawed. Wake the mages — all of them. Lead the swiftest to Copperdock and scatter the rest. I want eyes in every region. Do not return until you have her bound. And bring Devin along as well,” he added, as a wild grin split his face. “I think it’s time the Kingdom met my dragon.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Something Broken

  Morning light bounced off the pool of ocean trapped within the white cliffs of Gravy Bay. Ships sat anchored by their bottoms to the rocks beneath the waves. One lone vessel sailed across the pool — a tiny fishing boat guided on by two darkened forms of men.

  Elena watched until the vessel slipped into the narrow crack between the jutting cliffs. Only when its end had disappeared did she dare to blink.

  “Well, I suppose that settles it,” Jake said from beside her.

  They were alone, now. The whole rest of the wedding party had followed Kael’s sprint down the hill and into the village square. A great fountain stood in the square’s middle, surrounded by a mass of houses that were decorated strangely with statues and plunder.

  The villagers’ colorful garments formed what looked like an enormous puddle around the fountain. If she closed her eyes, Elena could hear the trill of a cheerful song floating up from where the pirates danced — celebrating the wedding of the Dragongirl and the Wright.

  “They’re going to go on like that all day,” Jake murmured.

  When she glanced at him, she saw the shadow of a smile played across his lips. The pale blue eyes behind his rounded spectacles glowed warmly in the rising sun.

  “And it’
ll go on all night. Believe me — I’ve already survived one pirate wedding. We’d better join them, I suppose. Uncle Martin wanted me to turn the fountain’s water into spirits.” He frowned. “Though after what happened the last time, I can’t imagine why …”

  He went on about skin turning purple and some misfortune involving a goat, but Elena wasn’t listening. She watched his lips move through his words, watched his hands flex against the leathery grip of his too-tight gloves — her gloves. The ones she’d given him …

  The gloves he’d cared enough about to turn into his impetus.

  By the time his eyes had traveled back to hers, she’d decided. Her mind was entirely made up. It was a certainty she’d been waiting months to feel — and if she didn’t grasp it now, it might never come again.

  There was no time to doubt.

  Jake’s story stopped abruptly when he saw how her brows had tightened above her mask. “What —?”

  “Not a word, mage.” Elena’s heart squirmed when she pressed her hand against his mouth. “Not one word. Do you understand?”

  He nodded, his eyes wide.

  “Good. Now come with me.”

  She’d gotten used to his scent, but the raw magic inside his impetus still itched her badly. So she dragged him down the hill by the sleeve of his robes, instead.

  “Where are we —?”

  “No, not a word,” she snapped as they reached the hill’s base. Her heart thudded so viciously that it shook her smile.

  Jake managed to hold his tongue until they’d pushed through the mansion’s front door. “But what are you —?”

  “Shhh!” Her finger trembled against his lips. “Hush. Just … trust me for a moment, will you?”

  He nodded, and she led him up the large spiral staircase — her breath quickening with every step.

  Her chamber stood at the end of the hall, its door hidden well within the shadows. Warm light spilled from her window: it pooled upon the oaken floors and slid across her bed. Elena’s heart was thudding wildly, now. She was certain she’d never felt it beat quite like this.