Chapter 10: The Dragon Queen

Purslane beckoned from the doorway of a log cabin and Mandrake strode over. I waddled along in his wake and about halfway across the clearing he must have noticed I wasn’t with him. He turned around and came back to me.

“Want a lift?”

I nodded and he picked me up under his arm. Once we were inside the cabin, he helped me to crawl out of the heavy embrace of my orc fur coat. Stripping off his own coat he raised an eyebrow at Purslane.

“We decided to move when it occurred to me that we could have been construed to be interfering between houses Lyon and FitzRoy.”

“Ahh. Yes. It doesn’t pay to underestimate your intelligence, my friend.”

Purslane blushed with pleasure.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

I nodded and so did Mandrake.

“Food will be a few minutes.”

“Thank you. My mate and I need a small talk anyway.”

She moved away tactfully, and he turned his attention to me.

“Tell me why you were so upset by Moth staying with her sister, beloved.”

“Because I don’t trust Titania. And because I have a worm in my gut.”

He opened his arms and I burrowed into his embrace.

“Do you want to go back to her?”

“No. I’d only get in the way. The fae hate me because in their minds I have corrupted a child.”

“A child? But surely Moth is older than you.”

“Yes. She is. But according to fae law she is not an adult until she chooses her name and gender.”

“Gender? Isn’t she a girl fae?”

“Well no. Not really. Mothwing is actually non-binary. She chose female pronouns for herself, but she has never formally assigned herself a gender.”

“Formally assigned?”

“Yes. When a fae makes the Choice, it stands in front of the silver mirror in Castel Seelie and says, ‘My name is X and I am a male/female fae,’ and then they are fixed and adult.”

I watched him absorbing that and then he smiled a gentle smile. “Does that mean we are sleeping with a perpetual adolescent?”

“Something like that.”

I felt a sob catching in my throat. “I just want her to be okay, but I understand that it isn’t up to me.”

Mandrake cupped my face in his hands. “She’ll be fine. There’s a lot of steel in that small body.”

I stiffened my spine. “There is and she will be so pissed off if I fall to pieces. Except…”

“Are you worried that you are left without an anchor should you need to Shift?”

“Yes.”

“You need not worry. Moth showed me what to do. And I am physically strong enough to drag you back from wherever.”

That was a relief. It didn’t do much for the aching Moth-shaped hole in my chest, but at least I no longer had to fear spending the rest of my days as a dragon/wolf/bear/whatever.

Mandrake’s perceptiveness surprised me as I heard his voice in my head. ‘I miss her too, and it hurts. But we need to do our bit to support her from here.’

I leaned thankfully on his strength and knew myself blessed to have such a one as he in my life. Once I stopped reacting I could think.

“Tell me about the black dragon.”

“His name is Ba’al, and he is wolfshead to every dragon that ever left its egg.”

“It must be bad.”

“It is. He was the Queen’s mate and he tried to usurp her throne by selling her to human skin traders.”

I felt my own skin go cold to think that someone would sell his own mate to those who would skin her alive and sell her golden skin.

“If I ever meet this dragon,” I said, “he’s dead.”

Mandrake kissed my hand.

Purslane came to where we stood.

“There is soup and bread.”

“Thank you.”

We went to the table where there was thick vegetable soup, bread, golden butter, and sharp crumbly cheese. It was delicious, and I ate rather more than is my custom, while Mandrake cleared two bowls of soup and most of a loaf.

When our appetites were satisfied I put my hand on his. “How fares your dragon, beloved? Does he need to eat?”

“Not yet, my heart. Tomorrow perhaps, depending on what we need to do.”

“See your Queen?”

“I’d prefer to do that today. The snow has stopped, and I can smell no more in the air. Besides which, something in my gut says there is need to hurry.”

“Then that is what we shall do. I just wish I could bathe and change my clothes first. I’m pretty sure I stink.”

“We both do. Luckily this camp has a bathhouse. And Purslane has had the water heated.”

A brisk hot bath made me feel much better, and when Purslane found me a leather riding suit with fur-lined boots and parka I could have kissed her.

The main part of the wing was to remain in the woodland camp, but two of the oldest and most battle-hardened males were to accompany us.

With me riding Mandrake in dragon form, and him leading the way, we reached Dragonheart before I even had chance to get cold. The two seasoned battle dragons backed themselves into what I thought of as garages—frontless rooms with high roofs and large braziers warming the air—and composed themselves to wait.

Mandrake made the change and held out his hand.

We walked side by side through the eerily quiet corridors of the Dragon Queen’s castle. I felt as uneasy as I always had in this place, but Mandrake was completely unconcerned. He fed reassurance through our joined hands, and I became stronger.

“Dragonheart’s primary function is intimidation,” he said quietly. “Pay no attention to it. Lift your chin my lady and look down your nose at the foolish dragons who seek your fear.”

He was so right, and I grinned up at him as the eyes in the painted dragons on the walls followed our every move.

“Can the paintings really see us?”

“Nobody knows. Except the paintings and the stones. And they aren’t telling.”

Outside the beaten bronze doors of the throne room, a guard dragon dozed gently in a patch of wintry sun. Mandrake grinned.

“Shall we?”

He opened a small personnel door that was all but hidden in the intricate scrollwork that decorated the door. As we stepped in I spoke urgently in his head.

‘Why was the guard dragon asleep?’

‘That’s just one of the many things we need to find out.’

The throne room was as noisy and chaotic as I remembered, at least until the assembled councillors and hangers-on saw who had come into the Queen’s presence. It was as if a giant hand had turned off the normal hullabaloo, leaving quiet that could have been cut with a knife. All that could be heard was the rustle and susurration of scaly skin and the sound of water dripping somewhere quite far away.

I had a bad feeling about this, but Mandrake showed no sign of distress.

He bent his head in a quick gesture of obeisance to the Queen, who reclined on her massive basalt throne. As was customary, she was the only creature in the room in dragon form and her golden scales shone like new-minted coins. Her multi-faceted eyes whirled, and she lifted a foreclaw.

“Mandrake. How good to see you,” she purred, before turning a much less friendly eye on me.

Before either of us had chance to respond, a thin male in a dark, hooded robe spoke.

“Well,” he sneered, “if it isn’t a renegade dragon. Have you come to beg Her Majesty for your life?”

“Renegade dragon?” There were all sorts of nuances and sharp edges to the Queen’s contralto tones, but the robed one seemed impervious to his own peril.

“Renegade indeed, Your Majesty. He stands convicted of the murder of a creature of the Bear Lord’s fiefdom.”

“He does? I had not heard of this.” The silky smoothness of the Queen’s voice spoke of trouble for someone, although Mandrake seemed unconcerned.

The robed one spread his hands. “Such a small matter is scarcely worthy of the attention of a queen. I have here the document that declares Milo/Mandrake wolfshead. It requires only your signature.”

One second he was standing before the Queen with a parchment clasped in his hands, the next he was face-down on the stone floor with a heavy foreclaw on the back of his neck. The Queen hissed.

“And when were you going to slip that among the piles of paper you and yours generate daily?”

When there was no answer she lifted the unfortunate up by his neck.

“Goodness me. He appears to have fainted.” She lifted her voice. “Guards. To me.”

Nobody came but I felt a whisper of magic which I could trace to an enormously fat old male who was ostensibly asleep in the far corner of the room. I pointed him out to Mandrake who flamed briefly. The old one screamed and a dozen armed guards boiled through the doors.

Mandrake had flamed only to warn the magic weaver of his peril, but the Queen was less circumspect. She turned her snout to where the fat one cowered and within seconds he was no more than a pile of smouldering ash.

“Now,” she said bleakly, “let us see.”

Anyone who underestimates the savagery of a Queen Dragon who finds out she has been manipulated needs to have stood where I did and watched one such clean house. It was a demonstration of brutal and bloody vengeance, carried out with dispatch and with little or no possibility of reprieve.

I don’t know how long we stood there, but in the end Her Majesty turned a wary eye on us.

“So Mandrake. What is toward?”

He stepped forward and she laid a claw on his head. Although he no longer held my hand, I felt the rather over-enthusiastic rummaging through his brain, and a headache like a buzzsaw drew hard bands around my forehead, stomach and chest. By the time Her Majesty was finished I could barely keep my feet. Mandrake saw my trouble and drew me forward to his side. The Queen laid her claw on my head for the briefest of moments.

My headache subsided as did the nausea and sense of pressure on my chest.

‘My apologies, shifter. I had not thought you two truly Mated.’

I met her jewel-bright eyes and grinned.

“It has been rather sudden.”

She smiled. “It is ever the way. And you have my blessing for all it is worth.” Then I was forgotten as she communed with Mandrake, who I didn’t feel was in the mood to cut her any slack.

Finding myself supernumerary I looked about for something to do, and my eye settled on a pile of official looking papers on the desk at which Mandrake’s accuser had been seated. Most of them seemed to be arrest warrants. For the dragons of the fighting wing that had been Mandrake’s and sundry others I didn’t know but was pretty darned sure didn’t need arresting. I didn’t fancy leaving any of those documents lying about. Fortunately the remedy to that was close at hand. Magic wielders always burn for a long time, and the fat one Her Majesty had incinerated was still smouldering nicely. I fed the warrants page by page onto what soon became a nice little bonfire. Being nosy by nature, I read each document before consigning it to the flames. I had all but reached the bottom of the pile when my eye fell on a very different seal. This was a properly official document, which bade the Queen send her representative to The Legislature where a very important vote was to take place. Then I read what the vote was.

“Mandrake,” I said sharply. “I think we know what this is all about now.”

“We do?”

“Oh yes. Somebody is trying to have lycanthropes declared animals, thereby stripping them of all their rights and privileges and putting them at the mercy of humans.”

The Queen stared at me. “They can’t do that.”

“Why not? We allowed them seats in the Legislature. Now they want to legislate.”

“But how would it benefit them?”

“Many ways. Firstly those who are awaiting trial for kidnap and murder would be off the hook. Animal rustling carries barely more than a slap on the wrist. Plus. We gave humans a fair share of the land and if they worked hard they could have good lives. But many of them don’t see why they should work when it would be much easier to just take what we have.”

Mandrake chimed in. “Let is not forget the environmental issues. Currently we don’t allow them to destroy nature for gain.”

“No indeed and we are not about to move aside completely. So they propose to push us.”

The Queen’s eyes whirled green with anger. “We would not allow this. Surely all lycanthropes banded together could defeat a few mere humans.”

Mandrake shook his head. “Think again, my lady. All lycanthropes banding together? Without killing each other?”

“And there are more than a few humans,” I said. “They breed like rats. While our fertility keeps populations at a sustainable rate, humans know no such herbs. In the valley below our cabin, there is a dirt farm. The farmer and his mate have seventeen children.”

“What can we do, then?”

“We have to be at the Legislature and somehow scupper this vote.”

“When?”

I dropped my final bombshell. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

Mandrake swore and the Queen set fire to the drapes. I waited. To be fair to them, it wasn’t long before they composed themselves, but the way they cursed each other led me to suspect that there was some sort of a relationship there. In another place, on another day, I might have chosen to explore the idea—but right then I decided I didn’t have time. Which turned out not to be the best decision I have ever made.

“What must we do, shifter?” The Queen was almost polite.

“Can you appoint Mandrake as your token bearer? And loan us his old fighting wing as security?”

“It shall be done.”

Mandrake bulked his shoulders. “Also send messages to all the lycanthrope clans you have contact with letting them know what is planned. Some may even be able to send their representatives to the Legislature for tomorrow’s session.”

The Queen nodded and clambered back onto her throne. She seemed awkward in her movements, and it came to me that she was heavy with eggs.

“Congratulations,” I said formally.

Her eyes softened briefly. “It is a pity that I should finally be in egg when the world is on a knife edge.”

“It is my thought that you would not have been taken in by these folks were it not for the hormones of egg-bearing.” I spoke without thinking, but she nodded.

“There is a certain milky calmness, I have found, and a disinclination for business. I still need help.” She looked at Mandrake who refused to understand the question in her eyes.

“I will find you reliable assistance,” he said, and went to the great brassy doors.

I felt impelled to apologise. “I’m sorry…”

She swept my apology aside with an impatient claw. “It was ever thus with him.” Then she smiled at me in the way of dragons. “It really isn’t your fault. He is such a stubborn male.”

She sighed and I became aware that her back hurt and that being gravid and unable to make the change was wearing on her mind and body. I felt sudden pity and laid a tentative hand on her shining scales.

“Would a back rub be pleasant?”

“It would indeed.”

So it was that when Mandrake returned he found me rhythmically rubbing my oiled hands over the muscles of the Queen’s back. He seemed more surprised than a simple act of sisterhood warranted, but males are odd even the best of them.

He brought with him six grizzled dragons, three male and three female, who bore signs of battle, and a motherly-seeming female with a crumpled and kindly face.

The Queen sighed. “My faithful advisers, pushed aside by those who sought our downfall. Will you forgive your Queen?”

They all bowed low and the oldest spoke. “Will you trust us once more, my beloved Queen?”

“I will, with gratitude.”

The motherly female came over to me and bowed her head briefly. “Does this ease the Queen’s Majesty?”

The Queen answered. “It does.”

“Then will you show this dragon what it is you do?”

While the dragons settled their plans for the security of Dragonheart and its mistress, I was fully occupied teaching a willing female dragon the basics of massage.

Once all was in place, the Queen hung a golden token around Mandrake’s neck, and he bent his head in a half bow.

She laughed, but it was a sound that said more of sadness than humour. “There is never any need for you to bend your neck to me. Not you of all dragons.”

I felt the instant when something went click in his head and he withdrew his essence from me, hiding behind a wall of pride and fear. When he answered the Queen, his voice was even deeper than usual. “Especially me of all dragons. Be well.”