186: The Wanderer

186: The Wanderer
\[Primus\]

Her face haunts me in my dreams. My beautiful wife. I can't stop thinking of our last evening together when we finally reconnected and pledged to do whatever we must do to stay together.

But she isn't here with me and I can't find her. The way to Elfholm is a mystery as no traveler who has encountered the elves remembers where. The illusions are so thick that they often lose themselves. It seems that the harder I search for her, the more difficult it becomes.

Fate can be brutal. It doesn't matter how strong you are, how honorable or just, fate doesn't care. A king can be brought to his knees by it's whim. 

Carnelia is not with me but when I close my eyes, It's almost as if I can feel her in my arms again. Carnelia. My sweet and wonderful mate. It has been two weeks since I last held her. Two weeks since I heard I saw her through a film of darkness.

She was so brave. So strong. But I can feel her pain. She needs me more than ever. Whoever has her, they are treating her cruelly. She continues to fight. She is driven by her need to reunite with us.

I know, because I feel it too. I feel everything even though the connection through our mating rings grows fainter each day.

When I reformed our bands into rings from the shards we saved, I had always hoped to replace them with something more grand. We never got the chance, and now I am grateful. These bands are unique--I am sure they share a bit of our souls along with every moment of heartbreak, fear, and love.

Using the ring as a guide, I have been using the bond between them as a beacon, a thin thread of fate connecting me to my mate wherever she is in our vast world. That it is a ring is a boon I never expected. Dragons wear bands, but humans often wear rings to signify their connection to their mates. It is a novelty I thought quaint when I made the rings for Carnelia and myself, since at the time I believed her to be human, and now it is a gift as I must pretend to be a human myself.

Unfortunately, I have no choice but to become Leon again. Everyone knows the face of Prince Primus, the lost king. My image is on the walls of every city from Ridgewood to the Eastern Sea. Eleanora is pursuing me almost as intently as I am pursuing my lost wife.

But Leon Minstrel is just another penniless, displaced human wandering from town to town scraping together what I can from odd jobs and the occasional opportunity to sing for my supper. There are so many wanderers like me, victims of their dragon overlords who think only of their pleasure and entertainment, not caring who they hurt as long as they can continue as they always have.

The nation is restless. It is no mistake that the Solar Rebellion has grown so large. Their families have been slaughtered or taken to fill the mines or the houses of their winged masters, they have been used as fuel, and seen as disposable. Once you take their dignity, their families, and their livelihoods, joining a rebellion somehow becomes the safest way to go.

So no matter where I travel, I have no shortage of company and no shortage of stories, most of which are tragic.

In comparison, my own story feels insignificant. While I was busy hiding away in my tower, these people suffered. If I were a good prince, a good king, I'd have cared enough to learn about their struggles and find a way to make their existence a bit more bearable.

But I couldn't even do that for Crimson or the Emerald Coast.

Arrogance and an inflated sense of self-made me think I deserve the right to rule these people.

I was a fool. In many ways I still am.

Today was a good day. I was able to convince a small tavern to give me a loaf of bread and a place by their fire to sleep if I spent the night entertaining a group of young drakes. I passed as human convincingly enough that none of them even guessed my true nature. In the end, I was able to bring the tavern enough revenue through their drinking and whoring that the inn keep, in his generosity, granted me permission to sleep in the small closet behind the bar, once the fire had gone out and the guests were gone.

"It's not as warm, but you're less likely to be robbed," he promised as he handed a small bag of gold as additional payment. "You earned it young man. Good luck on your journey south."

With the door secured behind me, I was able to locate myself, and for the first time since losing her, I could take my more comfortable form. Unfurling my wings and extending my tail as much as I could in such a cramped space. I closed my eyes and dreamed of her.

But then the dream changed.

It didn't feel like a dream anymore.

"Primus," she laughed, holding onto me as we spun, the world around us changing as my dream morphed into the grand dining room in Ridgewood, where we first learned how to dance. "I found a way around this stupid collar. They can't contain me when I'm asleep."

Her laughter is infectious and I laugh with her, kissing her, smelling her. "How is this happening? How is this real?"

"It is and it isn't," she explains to me how we are both still asleep on opposite ends of our world. "I am trapped and chained. My sisters are taking me to our father and I.."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know," she confesses. "But the air is warm and smells of unfamiliar flowers," she sends me an image of a brightly colored bird and a dense jungle of strangely glossy trees.

The dream starts to fade.

"Carnelia, stay. "

"I can't my love," she kisses me one last time. "But I will be back."

THIS IS THE END OF BOOK TWO.