Page 45 of Fate Promised
Juri thought about all he’d seen back in the sewers. The way the unnamed man and Hoyt discussed power, and the way their voices dripped with their desire for it. “The man in the hood Hoyt met in the sewer wore one of the family rings.” Juri held up his hand. “The kind used to make a seal in wax. Doesn’t the heir to the family wear that?”
Fergal lifted his head sharply. “Did you make out the crest?”
Juri shook his head. “He was too far away.”
“If he had a ring, then yes, he’s the heir, or already the head of the family.” Fergal scratched his chin. “That’s interesting. You didn’t see him on the beach during the attack in Ryba?”
“No. And … there’s something else.” Juri described how Hoyt blew something into the air, making him fall to the ground. He’d hoped not to say anything about flopping to the ground like a fish in front of Triska, but it couldn’t be avoided. “Do you know how he did that?”
“Inhalable magic. Clever …” Fergal said. “Vulk have such heightened senses, it’s the one way to get around their resistance to magic.”
Juri growled. “Yes, that’s why I told you. So you’d praise the asshole that blew dust at me.”
Fergal poked one partridge with a stick. “Needs some turning here.”
Juri grumbled under his breath about how much he hated hanging out with magicwielders and flipped his birds. He poured more oil over them—oil Koschei had brought down from his house. Koschei said there was an old patch of olive trees near the meadow, and he picked the olives and pressed them. Or, more likely, the forest sprites did it for him.
The oil sizzled, and the pleasant odor of cooked meat filled the air. “How about a story?” Triska asked. She’d returned to her seat and sat leaning forward, her hands on her knees. Exactly as she used to when they were kids, and he’d jump up on a rafter in the barn and relate some tale he’d made up, usually swinging from beam to beam to mimic the pirates she loved hearing about most.
“What kind? Weepy? Dramatic?” He glanced at Arrow, who cracked an eye—most likely to check if they’d started eating yet. “Dragon-ish?”
Koschei settled on a rock, his lips pursing as he removed a dollop of seaweed. “Dragon.”
Juri remained standing at the fire so he could continue to check it. “All right. The Knight and the Last Dragon. It all starts with a knight who had to bring the head of the last dragon of the land in order to prove he was worthy of becoming a lord so he could marry a fair princess.”
As he told the tale to the others, Triska gazed at him steadily, the way she always had when they were kids. He described the knight’s long journey into the dark forest to find the dragon and the trials he overcame as he trudged deeper and deeper.
He paced in front of the fire, lowering his voice. “The knight finally chased the dragon to a lagoon, but it was a trap. There was only one way in and one way out.”
Triska gasped.
“The knight’s exit was blocked, for the dragon stood there, far too big and powerful for his measly little sword. It reared up, and the knight threw his hands up, prepared to die. However, the blow didn’t come. Instead, the dragon slipped its skin, revealing a young woman, her hair as scarlet as her scales.”
Triska’s eyes lit up. “A woman!”
He took the birds off to cool. “And naked as the day she was born, so how could he resist? He took one look at her and fell in love, even though it was arranged for him to marry a bride in a distant kingdom. A bride he’d never met but to who his parents had sold his heart. The selling of his heart wasn’t metaphorical either. All magic was tied to emotion in that land, and the strongest of all lived in the heart. He’d given his heart and emotions to this unmet bride because all the knight cared for was the might of his sword and the strength of his arms. What need would he ever have for a heart? For magic?”
He continued on, and as more of the tale unraveled, he realized he’d chosen a story about a man willing to give up everything, even his life, for the one woman he loved. It was a story about a man who pursued his love endlessly.
The story continued as they all ate, and the fire dwindled to only a tiny lick over the remaining bits of driftwood.
“To free her from the curse demanding she live in her dragon form everywhere but in her lagoon, he had to find her three times. Each time she’d prove more elusive than the next. It was the ultimate game of hide and seek, and he had to make sure he won.”
Triska put her hand to her chest, and her fingers closed around his ring. An awareness grew between them as if strong winds blew them together, yet the night’s breeze was gentle. He no longer saw the others sitting nearby, it was only her.
He described how the first time the knight sought his dragon love, the strength of his limbs failed, and he had to use the strength of his mind. How the second time, he almost lost her because of trickery, but in the end, his loyalty to her, and his belief in her, helped him stay true. But the last time was the hardest. He had to find her because he loved her, and for that, he needed his heart. A heart he no longer had.
The only way to do that was to call it from its prison in the other kingdom. His intended bride fought him, and it was a long battle, one he had no prior experience with, for he’d only ever used his body to fight.
“He failed. But as he sat, thinking all was lost, he called upon his heart with everything in his soul, seeking its depths for the first time, and he spoke his words of love upon the open air.” Juri locked gazes with Triska. “He spoke out loud that his heart and soul belonged to her. That it was written in the stars before he was born. How even before he could understand, he knew she was his. For always.”
Triska didn’t move. Her chest didn’t rise or fall with her breath. “And he found her the last time?” she whispered.
Juri nodded.
There was a rustle of movement at his side as Koschei stood, and Juri turned, tearing himself away from Triska. “I’m going for a walk,” Koschei said, and stalked away.
Juri frowned. “What was that about?” Normally those who heard his tales begged for another, they didn’t leave in a huff. He crossed his arms and glared at the dark shape of Koschei, walking down the beach.