Dragon Song
DAPHNE
What? She can’t mean... Ash!? This was a mistake. I should stop her before it’s too late. Before I become trapped in here with her and there’s nothing I can do.
What is that old saying? Never make a deal with a faerie? Shit shit, shit.
“I will not harm him! I will not!” I hiss, my teeth barring like fangs.
Celeste laughs heartily, a hand falling over her face as she shakes her braids and they dance like a thousand snakes. “Not that silly boy of yours, girl. Do not fret.” Her amber gold eyes sparkle even as relief fills my every crevice. A cavalier grin erupts along her features before the halo of light that seems to grace her brow dims, and the angry turn of her lips becomes shaded in dark with twinkles of catlike white. “I am not speaking of that temperamental child ruler currently stalking my tent. He is not the Royal that I thirst for.”
“Then who?” I ask, wondering if she perhaps means the Winter Queen. A Fae that I am more than willing to sacrifice, not so much by my own hand, but if I needed to do so, I might be able.
Her face goes dark as her chin tips downward, leaving only the bright halogen glow of her eyes to spark beyond the shadow of her throne. Her words hiss out in the slither of a reptile’s song, “To speak his name is to call upon him, so I cannot tell you that.” She taps her fingers along her chair, granting me a seductive grin. “But he is the thief of the meadow. The ruler of the Woodland Realm. A tyrant. A murderer. And a man your mother knew terribly well. After all, he was her husband.”
My body jerks, something in the way her words land on my ears burning across my back like an omen. Would that not make this man my father? Does she truly believe I could do such a thing?
Suddenly I feel a current of heat in my blood, a vile hatred that cannot be my own. It curls and swirls in my belly, vibrating with a hum that I almost wonder if this queen can hear speaking inside of me and suddenly I know beyond a shadow of doubt that my magic hates this man. Whomever he may be.
A prickle begins in my skin and the flash of fire I felt when I read from the book begins to climb up my back like stitches being pulled, I step slowly toward Celest’s throne, hardly aware of the slow smile creeping above her chin until I am practically a foot from her. “How am I to know him?”
She speaks in a voice ripe with anger and contempt, “You will know him when you see him and he will know you as well. He will seek to enchant you, to fool you with a semblance of untruths. He will have you doubting yourself as well as the silly boy prince to whom your heart belongs. But make no mistake dear child, he is not who he pretends. You are no lost daughter, girl. For your true father has known of you from the very beginning and he is one even more powerful than that who will seek to trick you. So have heart to trust your instincts, because the games have just begun. But never forget that you are in power now, not he. Never he. The most selfish of kings is the one that sits upon a stolen throne and wields his lies as if he is mortal. With blood that pumps only to rob you of your magic. You must be vigilant and when the time to strike is upon you, surrender him to the Tithe using a dagger that I will provide. No matter what seeds of blasphemy he plants in your soul, you must hold fast. Can you do this?”
I stare at her, my breath shaking through my lungs as my mind whirls with possibilities of the murderous nature.
She means for me to kill someone. By my very own hand. Me!? I, who have not so much as squandered a bee in all of my years. How am I to murder someone? A being of flesh and blood? And with what am I to accomplish this? A dagger? With magic?
Eyeing the Cinder Queen with a rattling wariness, I note the way she tilts her chin, her braids falling back like tumbles of gold rope as she awaits my answer.
“I have never-”
“-killed someone,” she finishes for me, stepping back in a dance of steps until she is once again seated on her throne. She grants me a half shrug, one dark mocha shoulder lifting carelessly as her head falls to the side. “There is a first time for every queen. Heed me when I tell you, the wickedness of the woodland ruler will be a much better champion toward his plight than I. There are things I wish to tell you, things I would hope to glean from you, but…” she trails off as a particularly loud boom sounds overhead, shaking the ground and rattling the candles in the tent.
“But?” I prompt her, needing much more information than I was given before I bargain with someone’s life.
Celeste releases an irritated hiss, her eyes focused heavenward as another tremble quakes the air. “That boy,” she spits, “he has always been more of a pain than a prince.”
I can’t help but smile, knowing of whom she speaks.
Her attention returns to me and for the first time, her eyes are muted, almost… tired. She reaches beneath her tunic and armor, pulling on something that hangs about her neck. Lifting it free of her braids, she shows me what appears to be a tiny bone hanging from a chain of the same metal her armor is fashioned from. She offers it to me with a solemn nod and I cautiously accept. “What’s this?”
She chuckles darkly. “That, my sweet new queen, is called a Dragon Song.”
I study its shape, noting the sharp, flattened mouthpiece and indented body. “It's a whistle,” I surmise, eyeing the tiny holes along the top that are intricately spaced like no other instrument I have ever seen.
“Correct,” Celeste says. “You need only blow through the lip and it will call me to your side. I can give you until the first day of the feast to think on our… promise. But not a night beyond it.”
Something niggles at my memory, but I brush it away. “Feast? What feast?” I inquire, fantasies seasoned by old tales walking through my mind.
“The Great Feast,” Celeste coos. “The feast of the meadow.”