Dragon Redeemed Page 7

  Robin grinned. “The rat and the dragon. Who’ll win?”

  They mounted the platform and stepped onto the mat, moving to opposite corners as the ring master made his announcement. A moment later they were facing each other. Robin landed the first blow, surprising Xavier with his strength and speed, and Xavier hopped back, making some mental adjustments as re-evaluated his cousin. He feinted to the left and brought his fist swinging in an undercut, but Robin anticipated the move and quickly countered. It soon became clear that what Robin lacked in brute strength he made up for in skill. Xavier watched him closely, though, confident he could get the better of his cousin, and his next punch landed in Robin’s belly, throwing him into the ropes. He coughed, once, spitting onto the mat, but straightened himself a moment later and danced toward Xavier.

  Robin landed the next punch, but Xavier could already see his weaknesses, and he landed the next few blows. The room around him faded as he concentrated his efforts on his cousin, advancing, retreating, jabbing and protecting. He could feel the fire roiling in his belly as he loosened slightly the hold on his animal side. He heard Robin gasp a moment before he landed the felling blow, sending Robin to the floor as a cry rose from the crowd. Xavier fell back against the ropes and wiped the sweat from his brow as he waited. Robin still hadn’t moved, but Xavier could hear his heart beating, steady and strong. He crossed the floor, and taking Robin by his shoulders, he dragged him to his feet.

  “Come on, Robin, time to wake up,” he said, gently slapping his cheek.

  “Argh,” Robin groaned, “that’s a bloody hard fist you have there, coz.”

  “I did warn you,” Xavier said with a grin.

  Robin pushed himself away from Xavier’s grasp as he opened his one good eye, narrowing his gaze as he stared at his cousin, until the ring master shoved them apart and lifted Xavier’s hand, declaring him champion of the round.

  Robin staggered from the ring with another groan as he rubbed his hand over his chin where a bruise was already blooming.

  “Going for another round?” Robin asked.

  “No. Let’s get you home to the tender care of your family.”

  Robin snorted, then winced as he pulled his tunic over his head. Wending their way through the crowds, Xavier followed Robin as he climbed the stairs and led them back to the alley.

  “We can split here if it’s shorter for you,” Robin said.

  Xavier shrugged. “I prefer being outside to cooped up within four walls, so unless you want the solitude, I’ll walk with you.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  They walked in silence for a while, but the tension lay heavy over Robin. More than once he opened his mouth to say something, only to reconsider and look away.

  “What is it?” Xavier finally asked.

  Robin gave him a startled glance. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Yes. Now what is it?”

  He stopped and turned to face Xavier. “You said you hadn’t fought before, so how did you manage to fight like that?”

  “As I said before, I’m a quick learner.”

  “No-one is that quick. The moves you were making come from years of practice.”

  “Are you doubting my word?”

  Robin looked away and started walking again. “No,” he said after a moment, “but I don’t think you are telling me everything.” Xavier remained silent, and after a few moments Robin spoke again. “And then there is the question of your eyes.”

  “My eyes?”

  “They were shining. No, burning, like a fire.”

  “That’s … not possible,” Xavier said, mentally cursing himself for not being more cautious.

  “Xavier, why did Uncle stop killing dragons?”

  “He –”

  “Something happened, didn’t it? Up there, in the mountains. Grandmother was so pleased he wasn’t hunting anymore, but there’s more to the story than that, isn’t there?”

  Xavier closed his eyes in dismay. “I must go,” he said, spinning on his heel, but Robin’s voice stopped him short.

  “It’s not just you, Xavier. I’ve watched your parents, the few times they’ve visited, and there’s something about them, too. Something that makes them different.”

  “Who else have you mentioned this to?” he asked.

  “No-one,” Robin said quietly. “What would I say? I don’t know anything. But I want to understand. You are my blood relative.”

  “Is that why you took me to the fighting hall?”

  “No. I didn’t know you when we were children, so I wanted a chance to get to know you now.”

  “And?”

  Robin gave a wry smile. “Perhaps it’s a good thing we didn’t grow up together. I have a feeling I would’ve suffered far more bruises.”

  “That you would have.”

  “I’m a man of honor, Xavier. I won’t be spilling your secret.”

  Xavier cocked his head as he regarded his cousin. “There are no secrets to be spilled,” he said, before turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction into the darkness.

  Chapter 8

  A week had passed since Evelyn made her escape from the house. Instead of relieving her frustration, it had just made her more dissatisfied. Each day she watched to see if Uncle would leave the house again so she could make another escape, but he remained stubbornly in his study. No progress had been made on finding her a companion – Mother had not replied to her letter, and Uncle was disinclined to apply himself to the task.

  She laid aside the still-life sketch she was working on and wiped the charcoal from her fingers with a cloth. She was almost out of both canvas and parchment, and her stick of charcoal was no more than a nub. If she didn’t find a way to replenish her supplies she would not be able to continue drawing. A tendril of hair had escaped its pin, and she tugged it from her face and tucked it securely back, then made her way downstairs to the hall to join Uncle for supper. He arrived a few moments after her, startling her with a faint smile.

  “I trust you had a good day, niece. Any word from your mother about another companion?”

  “No, Uncle.”

  “Ah, well, I’m sure it won’t be long.” He broke off a piece of bread. “I have some business I need to attend to away from the city. I will leave first thing in the morning and won’t be returning till the following day.”

  “You’ll be gone for the night?”

  “Yes. There’s a man I need to see. I’ve been trying to locate him for years, and finally received word that he’s living in a town a few hours away. And not a moment too soon, either,” he added. “The man is on his deathbed, so it is imperative I see him as soon as possible. I’m hoping he can provide me with some information I’ve been seeking before he passes.” He took a sip of wine. “You won’t be nervous remaining here alone, will you?”

  “No, Uncle.” Evelyn refrained from mentioning that she would probably feel safer knowing that his nightly visitors would not be in the house.

  “Good.”

  Henry, the footman, brought in a lamb pie, and they lapsed into silence. It wasn’t until the dishes had been cleared that Uncle spoke again.

  “You won’t try to leave the house while I’m gone, will you?” he asked. Evelyn drew a startled breath as his gaze met hers. “This is not your sleepy country town where you can roam unattended. It is not safe here for a woman alone. Cities attract rogues and criminals, as well as other dangerous elements. I trust you will use good sense and not do anything foolish.” He rose from the table. “I leave first thing in the morning. Please ensure you heed my warning.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief as he left the room. Despite his words, she did not believe she would be in any danger if she went to the market unaccompanied. She was not a faint-hearted ninny, unable to look out for herself. And since he had extracted no promises from her, she felt no guilt about ignoring his caution. She hastened to her chamber, eager to get a good night’s sleep and be ready for the day to come.

  Clouds blo
cked the sun the next morning, but the threat of rain did not dampen Evelyn’s cheerfulness. She lay in bed until she heard her uncle leave, then rose to prepare for the day. Nan came in a short while later to help Evelyn get dressed.

  “I hear your Uncle will be away all day,” she said.

  “Yes,” Evelyn replied, a smile playing around her mouth.

  “You know that he will want a report on your activities,” she continued. Evelyn frowned. That thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Nan carefully tucked a curl into place. “Henry’s decided that with your uncle away, he’d like to visit his family across town.” She twisted a ribbon through her hair. “Cook’s put the day aside to do preserving, so she’ll be occupied in the kitchen until late this evening.” She straightened and met Evelyn’s gaze in the mirror. “And since you will probably be working on your drawings or needlework, I won’t be bothering you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s not right that a girl like yourself should be locked indoors for want of a companion. Go and enjoy your day of freedom.”

  The rain had passed by the time Evelyn left the house, and a few rays of sun made their way through a break in the clouds. The pavement was wet, and Evelyn picked her way between the puddles, lifting her gown off the ground. She crossed the road and started across the common, narrowly avoiding a cow pat. Without the constraints of time, she felt carefree and happy. In the distance the sounds of the market rang through the air as hawkers shouted their wares, while closer by, the cathedral bells began to toll the hour, raising a chorus of howls from the neighborhood dogs, and she laughed at the great cacophony of noise. The last bell was falling silent when she reached the other end of the common and crossed the road to the market square.

  She paused to admire the bright blooms of the flower sellers, and when a young girl thrust a small posy her way, she handed over a coin and tucked the flowers into her hair. As she passed the cloth merchants she ran her hand over brightly dyed bolts of fabric; the warm scents of muffins and pies filled the air as she passed the sellers with their trays, and she breathed them in with pleasure.

  A table of sparkling silver had her stopping to examine the brooches and hairpins laid neatly on a piece of cloth. A piece of amber set in silver caught her attention, and she was studying it when her eye fell on a hairpin set near the back of the display. The silversmith watched as she reached for it.

  “I’m going to have to melt that one down and make it into something different,” he said ruefully. Evelyn turned the piece in her fingers as she examined it more closely.

  “But why? It’s so beautiful.”

  “With all the rumors, no-one wants dragon jewellery.” The piece had been intricately wrought, with a long tail that curled around the body to form a circle. Tiny pieces of amber made the eyes and sparkled along the length of the tail.

  “What rumors?” Evelyn asked.

  “About the dragons, of course.” He scratched his head as he regarded her. “You don’t know?” She shook her head, and he picked the dirt from beneath his nail before continuing. “It’s being said that dragons are planning to attack the city.”

  “Planning to attack the city?” she laughed. “That’s ridiculous. Dragons aren’t capable of planning an attack.”

  “Well, they’ve been attacking all the towns up north.”

  “They have?”

  “Yes. Killing and burning everything in sight.”

  She frowned. “How do you know?” Surely Uncle would have mentioned that the city was in imminent danger of attack, unless he did not want to frighten her. Perhaps that was what he meant when he said the city was dangerous.

  “Everyone knows,” the merchant replied.

  “But how do you know they’re coming to the city?”

  “Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? There are more people here.”

  “Oh,” she said, her tone doubtful. “So what’s being done to stop them?”

  “People have begun arming themselves.”

  “But the king must surely be sending soldiers to stop them before they reach the city.”

  He scratched his forehead. “Well, now, I wouldn’t know about such things. The king doesn’t share his plans with me.”

  “How many dragons are there?”

  “A dozen, maybe? I don’t rightly know how many there are.”

  “Perhaps there aren’t any at all,” she said smartly.

  She continued on her way, considering what the man had said. She had seen a dragon once, flying high above her town while she stood on the bluff overlooking the ocean. It hadn’t seemed the slightest bit interested in her or her town. But the city had been attacked by a dragon once before. In fact, her grandfather had been killed by the dragon. Father had just been a babe in arms when it happened, but Grandmother had mentioned it once. The dragon had gone crazy, she’d said, like a rabid dog, but once it had been killed, things settled down again. Grandfather had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. There had just been one dragon that time. Surely there could not possibly be a dozen rabid dragons.

  She reached the parchmenter’s stall a short while later. The paints caught her attention, and her gaze lingered on them for a moment; her own were running low, but she lacked the necessary coin for such an extravagant purchase. She turned her attention to the rolls of parchment and selected half a dozen sheets, then moved on to the charcoal and canvas. Handing her selections to the man behind the table, she watched as he wrapped them.

  “Have you heard rumors about dragons attacking the city?” she asked as he tied a piece of string around the package.

  “Oh, aye, a whole thunder of them, if the tales be true.”

  “You mean dozens and dozens?”

  “Aye.”

  “And what do you think?”

  He shrugged. “Dunno. The priest thinks it’s a load of nonsense. Says his sister up north has made no mention of dragons in her letters. Still, no harm being prepared, is there?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  She took the package and left the stall with a nod of thanks, clasping it to her chest to avoid having it knocked from her hands by the throngs of shoppers. She continued walking, her mind composing the letter she’d write to Juliana when she returned home. Juliana had made no mention of dragons in her last letter, but then again, perhaps the rumors hadn’t reached their town.

  The sounds of the market grew quieter, but it wasn’t until she found herself in a back lane that she realized that she had left the market behind and landed herself in a rather dingy, dirty area of town. She was just beginning to retrace her steps when a hand suddenly gripped her arm, spinning her around. She looked up into the leering face of a man a few years older than herself. A vicious scar cut through his eyebrow and down his cheek, and half of one ear was missing.

  He brought his mouth close to her face and his sour breath washed over her. “Well, ’ello, poppet. Wot’s a pretty thing like you doing in these parts? ’As no-one told you that it’s not safe to be out alone?”

  “I’m not alone,” she replied. “My brother is very close by.”

  “Your brother, eh? I’ve been watching you, my pretty, and I know there is no brother close by.”

  She glanced around, searching for a means of escape. The roll of parchment she held was not a very formidable weapon. “Really? Not very observant, are you?”

  The man sneered at her as he tugged her towards the shadowed depths of an alley. “We’ll just ’ave to ’ide from ’im then, won’t we, my poppet?”

  She dug her heels into the ground and leaned away from him. “Get your hands off me, you cur. I’m not going anywhere with you!”

  “We’ll see about that.” As he yanked her again, the package fell from her grasp into the mud. She barely noticed as she began to struggle in earnest against the man’s grip.

  “I love a good fight,” he whispered against her lips as he wrapped a hand around her neck. “Makes things more exciting, it does.”

  Twisting awkward
ly, she jammed her elbow into his stomach, but his hold on her did not loosen. Instead he grinned. “Fighting like a cat. I like it.”

  “Help!” she shouted before he slapped a hand over her mouth.

  “Can’t ’ave you doing that,” he smirked. “Someone might interrupt our fun.” She pitched forward, stumbling beneath his superior strength, desperately trying to find purchase in the dirt, cursing her smooth-soled boots which seemed to be aiding her attacker more than herself.

  They were almost at the alley when a warm hand wrapped around her waist and she was pulled against a solid surface. A fist slammed into the man’s face, causing him to release his hold on her. The wall at her back disappeared as she was spun around, and she stumbled, falling into the dirt. Besides a stranger’s broad back she saw nothing – except for the hand wrapped around the neck of her attacker, lifting him clear off the ground. The man struggled uselessly against the grip, his fingers clawing the hand around his throat as his face took on a deep shade of purple. Just when Evelyn was sure he was about to choke to death, he was raised even higher then flung like a rag doll down the length of the alley.

  She blinked in shock as her rescuer turned to face her, reaching out a hand to help her to her feet. She stared at his hand for a moment, then lifted her eyes to his face. His hair was a silvery white, although he could not have been more than a few years older than herself, and his eyes were a pale ice blue, ringed in gold; his visage looked as though it had been sculptured from marble. He wore a simple tunic, which did not hide his broad shoulders tapering to a trim waist. She shivered at the undercurrent of power that clung to him, and when her gaze dropped back to the outstretched hand she felt a sliver of fear, remembering how easily he had flung a full-grown man down the alley.

  “Mistress? Are you all right?” As though he could sense her fear, he smiled. “I’m quite safe. Let me help you.”

  She reached for his hand, and warm fingers curled around her palm as he gently eased her to her feet. At five foot, six inches, Evelyn was a good height for a woman, but the man stood at least a head taller than her.