A Ballad of the Sun and the Moon

Chapter 5

Tamlane Williams had hardly slept, his thin, tattered quilt lay twisted - a result of endless tossing and turning - at the foot of his bed. A layer of sweat covered his entire body, thin and sticky from the grime of the mines he worked in. Curiously enough, it hadn't been the unbearable heat that held him from sleep that night.

Tamlane had caught word a few days prior that a runner had been discovered just South of Darkfrith. He'd listened carefully as prissy and prim women speculated, curious about who it could be this time. Even the men from the silver mines were abuzz. All he had learned though was that the marquess had left for the Hunt.

Since their departure the skies had been filled with sleek scales proffered to the moon like an armory of daggers presented to an assassin. Tamlane even ventured up with them careful to keep his distance risking a more advantageous view. His tattered and scarred wings only allowed him a glimpse of their patterns before forcing him to Turn to smoke and drift back to the earth. He'd seen enough though to fathom their plan. The Alpha would drive the runner North and the soldiers at the border would take him down.

Evidence suggested that is was hardly necessary. The Alpha - in other circles known as Lord Christoph Langford - would certainly bring his heir who exhibited a hunting prowess the likes of which their kind had never seen. It filled the men with envy, the women with sexual desire, and any potential runner with fear. The tribe had called him many things, but the moniker most consistently uttered was "The Dreaded Night".

Tamlane felt sorry for the boy who would be returned home. It had to be someone young and male, he surmised. Male, because apart from Rue Langford and her daughters, women couldn't Turn. And young, because no man would be brazen and stupid enough to think they could escape by traditional means.

Was the boy poor and peculiar, pondered Tamlane, like he had always been? Was he weak of Gifts, like him? Could he not bear the unbendable rules and that iron grip the bloody Alpha and council kept on their kind?

'You will do what you are told, when you are told, for the good of the tribe' his father had always said. Those despised words drummed through his head even to this day.

He propped himself up on an elbow, gritting his teeth as he pushed through the constant ache in his back. His feet flinched as he brought his full weight down upon them finally rising from his bed. Dawn had just broke after only a few hours of darkness, a bitter reality of summers so far North. Work began early and lasted till two hours before dusk, giving every man ample time to sup before flight.

Tamlane ran his left hand over his face - the only things he'd bothered to wash the night before. He dressed in loose fitting wool pants, a soiled muslin shirt and breech leather as befitting a miner.

He stood before the open cupboard, which offered the same meal as it always did: a crust of bread, some hard cheese and, depending on the time of year, dried sausages.

Years ago during Tamlane's nine year stint in London he saw gaggles of poor, gaunt and begging for food. Street urchins for example, fighting over a potato that had rolled off a cart, while nobles sat in their cushioned chairs, in their gilded halls, at their vast tables covered by more food than they could possibly finish. The drákon, as savage as they were, took care of their own. True, the marquess and his family ate better than the council, the council better than a lawyer, the lawyer better than a smith and so on. But no one ever went hungry, including Tamlane, a three-time runner and social outcast. That didn't mean he ate well though.

He sat down at the small table to break his fast, unfolding the cheese cloth and taking the last crusts of stale bread from the tin, placing the food on a round, wooden board.

He'd have to leave work early today to make it in time to the bakery. The foreman was generally understanding. An older gentleman whose wife had died in childbirth many years ago, he understood the difficulty of acquiring anything edible absent a mate.

And Tamlane once had a mate too, an old lifetime that he kept in the secret safety of his thoughts. He remembered her face as if they'd met yesterday, soft and round and longing for his caresses. Her hair was a mousy blond and her eyes the color of clouds on an overcast day. Nothing like the women here, neither exotic nor illuminating, nor begging for attention, for she was mortal. A mere human, but she was his and he loved her more than anything.

Tamlane finished his meal, wetted his thumb and pressed it firmly to the board picking up the few remaining crumbs which he scraped off across his teeth. He pulled his boots on and took off to the mines leaving the empty tin, wooden board and strewn cloth on the table. Who would be there to see the mess anyways? He lived alone. For twenty six years he'd been alone.

Mining came naturally to their kind, as they felt the whistle and hum of the metal lurking beneath the Earth, calling to them. There was no blind digging making the miners of the shire inhumanly efficient and the envy of every land owning noble in the country. On top of that, silver was normally a very tricky element usually found in the form of ore. It had to be processed to achieve the pure product. Darkfrith, held many secrets, and one was the abundant nuggets of pure silver it kept hidden below. Most likely it was why the drákon's ancestors had chosen to settle here.

The men had opened up a new shaft a week ago and it proved fruitful. The tricky part was simply digging it out. Tamlane had mastered using a pickax with only one hand – a byproduct of his third escape – yet he still wasn't as productive as the other men. It didn't matter, he still received the same salary as a single gentleman with no family. He always looked forward to lunch which was provided at the mine. Usually a hearty stew, he enjoyed every bite before returning for the second half of the day deep under the earth.

When he emerged for the second time that day, the warm, summer air stifled his lungs. He placed his pickax on the rack by the entrance and emptied his pockets of silver into an iron pan.

"Out of bread?" the foreman asked.

"Aye," replied Tamlane.

The foreman tossed him a fast coin, which he caught effortlessly. Though older and almost crippled he still had the reflexes of a dragon.

"Pick a loaf up for me too?" asked the foreman. "This lots gotta be weighed up and shipped out by tomorrow," he said, motioning to the full baskets of silver nuggets.

"Of course."

The baker only had a few day-old loaves. The fresh ones were always gone by noon. He laid the coppers on the counter as the baker's daughter wrapped two loaves in separate pieces of parchment. The scrape of the metal against wood touched his ears as she collected the coins. He tipped his hat politely before he gathered the bread into his arm and then walked out the open door.

The sun still hung well above the horizon. Tamlane had to shield his eyes with his arm as the light hit him, almost losing a loaf with the reflex. He turned his head catching a flash of bright from the corner of his eye. A young woman stood in the center of the road her hands outstretched and eyes closed. She wore a fine dining gown, the caliber of the highest class yet her hair was sheered short into flimsy wisps. Everyone was looking at her, an unusual stranger in a place were strangers were seldom present. There was hardly anything about her that suggested drákon, yet she seemed too wild, too unorthodox to be just human. A certain familiarity drew Tamlane to look further, deeper. It pulled him back to a night long ago. Of passion and love and heartbreak. Of a fight among fireworks and gunpowder and the loss of his freedom. He'd given it up for them.

For her.

Tamlane had to concentrate on breathing. He wasn't powerful, rarely sensing when those of his kind were near, but it was their consanguinity that allowed him to see.

He thought about what he might say, how he might explain to her who he was. Who she was.

A man walked by him, tall and shadowing, silent and dangerous, the marquess' first born going toward the young woman standing there in the light of the sun. They talked for a bit, a playful back and forth most likely, but Tamlane had recognized that menacing glint that every Alpha wore in pursuit of a runner. It was a look he'd seen himself and never wished to again.

And then it donned on him. There was no runner. The Alpha had caught a wild dragon, born free and far from the tribe and brought her here to be tamed. His daughter. The only freedom Tamlane had come to care about. After all this time and all this distance and careful secrecy they had found her.

He watched as she smiled and laughed in conversation with the Langford boy. No matter how hard he concentrated Tamlane simply wasn't close enough to pick out a word. She took the Earl's arm likely smitten by his roguishly good looks and charming demeanor. A rush gripped his heart as they walked away. He had to reach her, had to warn her of the danger. He knew where they were going, he wouldn't have to follow.

Tamlane ran as fast as his painful leg would allow him, hoping to make it back home and to the Alpha's manor before the Langford family sat down for their evening supper.

He Turned to smoke just before reaching his cottage, leaving his miner's livery in a pile by the door trailed by the day's dirt that shortly before clung to his skin. It was a useful aspect of Turning to smoke: dirt and dust and anything not of their body fell away when they abandoned their physical form.

Tamlane yanked on his only other outfit: fraying silk trousers, a discolored muslin shirt and an oversized coat of blue-dyed velvet he'd inherited from his father. Hardly fit for an audience with the Alpha, it was all he had and would have to do. He returned his boots to his feet and was out the door.

As a last effort to look presentable he slapped his hat against a tree, shaking out the dust and dirt. Too bad he couldn't Turn his clothes to smoke as well.

****

The dining hall was certainly more elaborate than the bedroom Sunniva had spent a short time in. Sheets of malachite and amber covered the walls, a ceiling adorned in painted animals and sunset clouds bleeding down into the stone in green and yellow. Bright orange damask curtains were held open by lengths of cloth attached by golden clasps and the sweet, honeyed smell of beeswax candles fixed on great iron braziers in the corners was subdued by the numerous dishes brought out by footmen.

Sunniva had been given a seat to the left of Kimber positioned at the head of the table while his brother sat to his right and their sister next to him. There were footmen and livery boys lining the far wall, waiting to serve. They too emitted that thrum of power, though not nearly as strongly as her hosts.

Kimber motioned to a footman who hurried over with a bottle of cooled champagne. The Earl took the bottle before he could pour and filled Sunniva's glass first. After serving himself he let the footman tend to his siblings. The glasses where gold-rimmed and etched with flowers, and Sunniva couldn't help but run her finger around the edge.

"This evening calls for celebration," began Kimber, his glass raised. "I'd like to propose a toast to Sunniva, long lost member of the tribe. Fate has returned her home and may we keep her safe."

They all lifted their glasses in toast.

Sunniva had never tasted such a beverage. It tickled her tongue and tasted peculiar. She rubbed her nose at the sensation not sure whether to consider it pleasant or irritating. The siblings each let out a smirk, amused or delighted she couldn't tell.

With a wave of a hand food was served. Green beans with a thick, flour coating, roasted root vegetables and buttered potatoes with chopped parsley were placed eloquently before Sunniva. It had been ages since she'd eaten as a human, always so inconvenient and never tasting as good. Much to her chagrin a slab of roast, utterly pink in the middle and trickling red across her embossed China plate, was laid next to the rest of the food.

"I hope you like beef," asked Kimber.

It wasn't beef that was the problem. She'd certainly dined happily on cattle before. It was the thought of ingesting practically raw flesh that made Sunniva's stomach churn.

"I'm sure it will be delicious," she replied with a polite smile.

Sunniva poked at the meat with her fork swallowing a gag as more bloody juice seeped out. She was able to salvage a few of the vegetables cutting them into small bites and choking them down hardly chewed.

"Did you enjoy your visit to the village?" Joan asked, spearing a piece of beef and raising it to her rouged lips. She wore a tan and black striped gown with a black crepe bow on the bodice. Her hair was encrusted with small diamonds and her neck laced with large, ovular sapphires set in gold.

Sunniva scooted another green bean to the edge of her plate. "I was curious," she replied with innocently raised eyebrows.

"How does the saying go?" responded Rhys. "Curiosity killed the cat?"

Sunniva looked across the table at him and smiled pointedly. "Well, I suppose I'm lucky I'm not a cat."

Rhys released a snort while Joan chuckled under her breath. Kimber merely offered a sleek smirk as if he were privy to some secret.

The Langfords were as sophisticated as any noble family that Sunniva had encountered, their napkins placed perfectly in their laps and silver cutlery held delicately and with grace. They cut their food into small pieces, careful not to soil their lips as they brought each bite to their mouths.

The only difference that a human could possibly perceive was their exquisite beauty: eyes shining like polished gems, skin resembling the finest marble, features that any noble would envy. Their colorings passed believably as human. Shimmering black and rich chestnut and golden blonde. Perhaps that's why they didn't use tricks of the light. Or perhaps, as luck would have it, they couldn't.

The thought churned in her stomach in anticipation of tonight. It wouldn't be long before dinner was over and Kimber would show her what he was. Sunniva was filled with trepidation unsure of how similar they truly were. The sister didn't like her, that was clear, and to the brother she seemed indifferent. But sweet, attentive Kimber gave her hope that she could find a home here.

"I hadn't expected so many of you," she continued. "Tell me, how do you keep so well apart? This place isn't exactly located outside of the civilized world."

"It's rural enough," Rhys retorted, as if she needed correcting.

Kimber looked at his brother in disapproval. "We've learned to hide very well," he stated.

Sunniva opened her mouth to delve deeper, but Rhys spoke again.

"So you've lived your whole life outside the shire. What's that like?"

"I can't really know what it's like. I've never lived in the shire so I've naught to compare it to. I take it you have lived here your whole life? What's that like?"

"Touché," he replied. "But we haven't lived here our whole lives. We've both attended Eaton and Cambridge. Not to mention the frequent stays in London."

"Is that so?" she said in a mockingly impressed tone. "London is an absolute piss pot," declared Sunniva. "It has no redeeming qualities."

"I'm rather fond of London," Joan inserted. "The shire is of course home but there is nothing like the artisans of a grand city. Dressmakers, jewelers," she held out a hand with splayed fingers adorned with rings of topaz and emeralds and gestured to bring attention to her chintz gown with engageante sleeves.

"The operas and musicians," added Rhys.

"The painters and palaces," supplemented Joan.

"It stinks," insisted Sunniva. "I prefer clear winds free of the scent of sewage."

A smile emerged from Kimber's face. "My sentiments exactly," he agreed. "When were you last there?"

"I was born and raised there, but I've not been back since I left that gutter."

"Oh?" Kimber raised his eyes curiously. "What made you leave?"

Rhys raised the fluke to his lips and took a gulp.

Sunniva laid her fork and knife down on her plate. "I killed a man and burnt down a building," she said as blunt as a hammer.

"Blimey," blurted Rhys, slightly choking on his drink. Joan's eyes grew wide. Only Kim, with his cool composure, looked at her unchanged.

Sunniva took note of their reactions. "Well, some men think they own women. And some men end up in flames. So like I said, London: an absolute piss-pot."

There was silence around the table until Kimber rose his glass with a large smile. "To burning down piss-pots."

Sunniva met it with a clink. "To burning down piss-pots."

She felt so at ease with him. She'd known him first without his title, without his position or any pretension, just a hunter wild and free in the night. He was like her, dragon to the marrow. And he'd promised to show her, tonight, after supper. She wanted to see him, to know truly with her own eyes if they were kin. She imagined what he might look like, the pattern of his scales, the reflection of light on his back as he cut through the skies. She wanted to show him too, though it filled her with trepidation. She'd never shown anyone the beast within, her true self that made her a freak, isolating her from everyone. She wondered what he would think. Was she just as beautiful as other women? Just as fierce? Just as skilled? She hated to admit it, but she wanted him dreadfully and wasn't sure if she could bear him not reciprocating.

Sunniva wanted to ask more about the drákon. Their customs and practices so far seemed hardly different from the British social structure. Perhaps that was why they hid so well.
As Sunniva contemplated her next question, a footman entered the room and whispered into Kimber's ear. The Earl looked first to Sunniva and then to his brother.

"My most sincere apologies, but something has come up. It shouldn't take long."

He placed his napkin on his plate, scooted out from the table and left the dining hall.

****

Tamlane hadn't even made it as far as the Chasen lawn before he was met by a guard who demanded he go home until he mentioned having information about 'the girl'. The guard led him to another guard, who spoke with a footman that relayed the information to the butler.

He was permitted to stand in the vestibule of Chasen Manor as the Alpha was informed. It was possible that the marquess would prefer finishing his meal before seeing the likes of Tamlane Williams. Or he would make him wait, standing for hours just because he could. Or worst of all, he had no interest in what he had to say. Just as Tamlane remembered to remove his hat which he was now clinging to for courage, he heard the scant steps of fine leather boots on the granite floor.

Tamlane's heart pounded. He feared the Alpha, having faced him in battle his last night in London. The night he lost everything. Tamlane knew the outcome of his visit depended on the Alpha's whimsy and resigned himself to be the pinnacle of courtesy and obeisance. But it was his son, Earl Kimber Langford that now stood before him, with every bit of menacing dominance as his father.

"Lord Alpha," began Tamlane with a low bow slightly exposing his neck. "I come with a petition of the utmost importance."

Kimber let out an annoyed sigh. "My men said you had information about someone in my care. If not, then we'd like to finish our supper."

"Yes. I understand. I'll be quick about it. I've come here to claim my daughter."

****

The Earl returned to dining hall in a flutter.

He wasn't very inclined to grant Williams an audience preferring to keep Sunniva isolated until she was bound and wed to him. He was unfortunately obligated to collect information on her background and her alleged father refused to say more until he saw her. He should have reminded the man that he was Alpha and was to be obeyed without question. Instead he found himself fetching his bride.

"Sunniva, I think you best come with me." His voice held a certain gravity to it.

"What is it," she asked rising, as a serving boy pulled back her chair.

"Just come, please."

Kimber led Sunniva into the study. On a plain, wooden chair sat an older gentlemen, red of hair with graying edges and piercing blue eyes. He held a crumpled hat in his tense hands and rose as Sunniva entered the room. His eyes shined with tears as he looked upon her.

"This here is Tamlane Williams. He asserts to be your father, Sunniva," explained Kimber. "Now Mr. Williams, the evidence you claim to have?"

"I took a mate when I was in London. A human woman. She became with child shortly before...before I returned to the Darkfrith."

Kimber wasn't so convinced. No one, apart from members of the Alpha family, was permitted to live outside their borders. And still there were restrictions, precautions put in place. Council members and selected individuals were granted short visits outside of the shire and Tamlane Williams -a downright nobody - was certainly never one of those individuals. Kimber knew the man had once been a runner and he could safely assume it had been his father who had brought him back. And Kimber knew how great of a hunter he was. Certainly this weak-blooded man before him could not have escaped the tribe long enough to have taken a mate and conceive a child.

"It seems purely circumstantial," Kimber said.

"What was her name?" demanded Sunniva. "My mother, her name?"

"Her name was Karina. When I met her, Karina Linnaeus."

Sunniva clasped a hand over her mouth. Try as she might she could not fight back tears.

"When she told me she was with child I gave her a pearl of which there is no likeness," revealed Tamlane.

"And I still have it." The words came out shaking as she pulled the pearl from her bosom. Her mother had told her it was a gift from him that he had given before he died. She had always suspected it was her father that had given her these Gifts, but neither she nor her mother knew anything about his history.

"I'd like a moment of privacy. " Sunniva turned to Kimber. "Alone. With my father."

Kimber in principle didn't feel all that obliging. With what words might this criminal poison his mate? Yet he couldn't avoid her teary doe-eyes capturing his gaze. It was a calculated risk, if he denied her what would she think then?

"I shall allow it," he replied, his voice full of tension.

The door closed behind him with a resounding click yet no footsteps followed.

Sunniva searched for the right words to begin with. Her father put his fingers to his lips and moved close to her.

He moved his mouth almost even without the sound of a whisper. Can you understand me?

Sunniva nodded her head.

We have to be careful what we say, they are probably listening.

She nodded her head again, looking at the door. She knew all too well the Gift of heightened senses.

He switched to a normal volume. "I want you to know that I never planned to abandon you. I never wanted to leave you. Or your mother." And then back to a whisper. But I had to protect you both.

"Our lives were very difficult." Why did you then?

"I had to return to the tribe. I was hunted and brought back here.

"But why?"

"I had a responsibility to our kind." We are never permitted to leave this place.

Sunniva felt the bile rise in her throat at the thought of being confined to a small place like Darkfrith. She was a creature free as the wind, soaring wherever she pleased. The air became stifling. She moved to the window wishing to throw open the pane. Her father caught her hand before she could grasp the latch and shook his head.

They will think you mean to escape.

She felt trapped, the walls closing in on her like the jaws of a great beast, consuming her whole. The small supper she had forced down and it's iron aftertaste boiled in her stomach. She searched the room, like everywhere in this mansion the study was drenched in finery and she couldn't find a suitable place to vomit. She stumbled to the fire place and heaved, the contents of her gut releasing into old ash and soot. A small plume rose from the splatter. Her father placed a soothing hand between her shoulder blades.

He didn't have much time, the Earl would certainly return at the sound. Tamlane leaned into the fireplace as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve ignoring the acidic scent.

Can you Turn?

When she looked at him, he hoped she didn't understand the meaning of the word, that she, like nearly every female, was stuck in human form, that she would be safe from them.

His heart stopped as she nodded.

The handle of the door barely made a sound as it rotated, but they both heard it. Tamlane was able to reveal one last bit before the earl returned.

They must never know.

Kimber was by her side in two strides taking Sunniva's hand.

"Are you alright?"

She straightened up, careful to avoid hitting her head on the hearth.

"I'm fine. No need to fuss," she insisted.

She pulled her hands away from both men and scraped her hair off her moist forehead.

"It's all a bit overwhelming is all. I'm perfectly fine." She managed to squeeze out a smile, though hardly an authentic one. She straightened her back and smoothed her skirts with her hands.

"That will be enough for tonight, Mr. Williams. Daughter or not my guest needs her rest," Kimber said addressing Williams.

"But I'm not tired," Sunniva retorted. It was lie. She hadn't slept in days.

"You're probably still running off the excitement of the day. Perhaps an early evening would do you good," he retorted.

Sunniva caught the inflection in his voice, a command rather than a suggestion. She didn't like it and opened her mouth to challenge him, until her father gave her a pleading stretch of his lips, so she held her tongue.

"I was hoping my daughter could come stay with me," asked Williams, making himself appear much smaller.

An incredulous look washed over Kimber Langford's face. "That will be for the council to decide. Such matters are out of my hands as you well know."

It was a lie for the most part. The council took a great role in the governing of the tribe, but an Alpha's ruling in most individual cases was heeded whether they liked it or not.

He would let Sunniva's father petition the council and have his hearing for the sake of formality, but if Kimber wished to keep the girl then the council would adjudicate in his favor. Despite the mountain of responsibility, there were a few pleasant perks of being next-in-line as Alpha.

Tamlane took Sunniva's hand one last time before being escorted out. "It will be alright," he said.

Sunniva wasn't so sure as she listened to her father's footsteps moving further, a tragic tapping on the cold stone beneath them.

A servant came from a side entrance with a lighting pole in hand.

Sunniva looked at him as he lit the candles in the study one by one, their light dancing across the room in mired tones of orange and yellow. For a moment she missed that life, a servant whose face ever changed, to which little attention was payed. The servant scooped up the contents of the soiled fireplace and left as quickly as a ghost, disappearing as they had come. The ash had luckily prevented the smell of vomit from traveling too far.

"No harm done you know," exclaimed Kimber, mistaking Sunniva's grave expression for embarrassment.

He pulled back a slack curtain and looked out the window. The sun was practically gone and tendrils of smoke were already spiraling up towards the heavens. He looked back at Sunniva, partially veiled in shadow, the flickering candle light dancing across her more prominent features. Like night jasmine, she bloomed in the darkness, haloed by some unseen aura. Kimber could see it clearly now. It was so faint and subtle he wondered if others could see it too. He hoped not, otherwise it wouldn't be long before she had a string of suitors, and she was his.

"Would you join me on the terrace? There is a lovely view from it in the evening, especially on such a clear night." He smiled like a cat caught in a milking pail.

The man who Sunniva had thought she'd seen so clearly seemed suddenly shrouded in a thick, unpenatrable mist. A serpent hidden behind a facade of capturing eyes and sinewy muscle ready to pounce. As if steeped with the instinct to seduce, practiced and honed, he had lured her in. And why oh why did she desperately want him?

How could she have been so careless? She was deep in the lion's den now. Perhaps she'd grown too accustomed to her power and abilities, believing she was the fiercest creature in existence. Her father's few words drummed in her head. They mustn't know. She knew what Kimber wanted to show her and what he wanted to see. He was dragon, there was no doubt in her mind now. The curiosity tugged at her skin - which that terrible beast begged her to shed - but there was too much hidden jeopardy to risk it.

"I think I shall retire. It has been a long day," she said.

Kimber was visibly flustered. "Are you certain?"

She didn't look at him afraid she might change her mind. "Like you said, perhaps an early evening would do me good."

Kimber raked a hand over his neck.

"Is something amiss, love?"

"My father, who left my mother and I, who I had resigned to the grave, is alive and well. How would you feel?"

She gave him a curt look, and hardly waiting for an answer, hustled away with her skirts billowing at her legs leaving Kimber standing there gripping his own palms.

Of course it seemed natural that the revelation of her father had been a shock. He considered his own father, a man who helped him become everything he was and shared no equal. Kimber couldn't even imagine what Sunniva was going through. Despite the thick walls he'd heard their exchange, nothing peculiar had been said, so he thought. He would make it a point to find all the council's records on Tamlane Williams. Later though. He needed to fly first. He needed to release the black dragon into the night before he sat down to dry paperwork. He'd show Sunniva tomorrow once she'd had time to settle.

****

Sunniva was surprised she found her room without assistance. She'd been in numerous country homes but Chasen Manor put them all to shame. It was quite simply massive.

She let the door handle slip roughly from her fingers and heard the latch catch the frame. She hadn't slammed the door, but certainly had not been gentle. She fumbled at the back side searching for a lock finally finding a bolt just around eye level. It wouldn't keep out a determined dragon, but would at least prevent a servant from barging in unannounced. She waited tentatively.

It took a bit before what she expected arrived. The footsteps halted just outside. She held her breath, listening. There were two guards this time their alternating breaths like a pair of bellows on a forge. Apparently her visit to the village scraped more nerves than she had thought. She couldn't quite feel the men standing outside her chamber but they were there, making sure that...well, Sunniva was honestly not sure why they were there.

She peeked out the windows into the star-covered sky. Streaks of metallic green and yellow and velvet gold flitted over the moon in a symphonic ballet. Wings sliced the sky, beating fast and hard bringing some higher and others folding flat casting the creatures into a dive. They tumbled and looped and swirled and then circled around catching pockets of updrafts and warm wind currents. Sunniva's mouth hung open and loose in awe and fear.

They were like her yet not. They were smooth and sleek and colored splendidly. They Turned from smoke to dragon and kept a deafening silence. Creatures of the night, all of them. Even here, she was a mutant, she was a freak. Perhaps that is what her father meant. Perhaps he was like her. She had seen it in other beasts, attacking their own for having inborn peculiarities.

Of those she could see she counted thirty. She didn't know their Gifts, or prowess, or skill. She wasn't sure of their speed or ability to hunt. Kimber alone had tracked her as human through a forest and had no difficulty catching her on foot. If he was anything like what she was witnessing now in the sky then she was at his mercy – at least at night.

She wondered which one might be him when a consuming feeling of shadow began to tickle. It lapped at her senses and the bright dragon drew up from her belly, through her chest straining to meet it. God it felt good. She wanted to give in, give the beast inside her free reign to explore what it wished. Her light flickered sending creased waves across her eyes. She saw for a moment a black shadow hovering low as if peering into her chamber. She swept the curtain closed in a quick jerking motion.

A lamp sat on the armoire, lit and full of oil. She snatched it to her feeling a moment of respite from the darkness as she clung to the cool porcelain base.

A fireplace was located on the north side of her chamber directly across from the bed. The hearth and header were a creamy travertine, while the mantel, adorned with figurines and a small bracket clock, stood apart with milky marble, beckoning soft.

There was no wood to be found, and the firebox itself was clean of ash, holding only a lonely pair of andirons. Even if she had something to burn, the room would have filled with smoke - as Sunniva discovered - the fluke being securely closed, locked and strangely sealed.

She slipped a foot out of a pump so it hung from her toes and kicked it hard across the room. She didn't care that it had left a scratch in the perriwinkle wallpaper. She launched the other one just the same, leaving an even more impressive mark. The dress wouldn't permit such a swift removal. Angry and shaking she tried untying this and unbuttoning that, only to ultimately rip it off violently. She hated such superfluous attire. Plus, it itched worse than a rash.

She sat down at the vanity with her lamp looking upon herself in the mirror. Her rouged cheeks and kohled eyes disgusted her. She rubbed it all off on her bare arm.

You're no princess among men, came the whisper. You're a queen of beasts!

It seemed all a lie though.

Her eyes burnt violet, smoke and fumes trailing away from her lids. Her hair paled to a molten silver and her skin shone a white light.

The smell of burning pulled her back. She lifted her hand from the top of the vanity where a black print scorched into the wood remained. The terrible dragon had gotten the better of her. She'd have to be more careful now. It could no longer be released as freely as it used to.

Sunniva covered the torched spot with a large doily. She slouched down feeling the exhaustion overcome her. She placed her single source of light on the nightstand and crawled naked into bed. At least the mattress was feathered and the sheets soft, she thought as she pulled the covers up over her bare body and closed her eyes.