Dragon Daughter Page 9

Milla’s hand flew to her necklace, the habit of a lifetime. Her fingers stroked the gold medal with the imprint of the dragon and the full moon. Her only possession. The only way of tracing her family. She felt sick at the thought of giving it up. She couldn’t do it.

  The guard started closing the window.

  She had no time and no choices left.

  ‘Wait, please!’ Milla closed her eyes, steeling herself. With reluctant fingers, she unfastened the necklace. She stared down at the gold medal in her palm, gleaming in a sudden shaft of moonlight. She brought it to her lips one last time.

  Then she folded her fingers over it and held it out. ‘Take this,’ she made herself say. It was the only link with her past and she felt it snap like a broken chain. She gambled her past for the sake of her future.

  ‘For your trouble, sir,’ she said through gritted teeth, and handed over the ancient gold medal, blinking away tears.

  ‘Let her through.’ The guard winked at her and palmed the gold. ‘She’s right: they’ve only just reached the palace. Let her through, but escort her all the way, do you hear me?’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Milla nodded her head demurely, listening to the bolts being drawn back and the heavy gates swinging aside over the cobbles. Two more guards waited on the other side. She threw a smile at them, but it was like smiling at a stone wall.

  They walked swiftly through the palace grounds. Last time, Milla was with invited guests, part of the jewelled throng. This time she felt like a prisoner. The guards marched her up the steps, through a vast hallway with a massive curving staircase, and into the great hall of the palace.

  Milla blinked, dazzled by the opulence: dozens of gold candelabras; a long dining table covered in snowy linen, laid with glass and crystal; a huge stemmed bowl, dripping with purple grapes.

  Nestan and the twins stood by an enormous fireplace with Richal Finn in attendance, all scrubbed up for the occasion.

  ‘Milla!’ Nestan exclaimed, steadying himself with two hands on his cane.

  Was he angry, or relieved? She couldn’t tell.

  ‘Milla? What are you doing here?’ Tarya cried out, coming over.

  She felt the grip of a gloved hand on her arm. ‘Expected, were you?’ the guard growled.

  She had seconds left before they threw her out. Her eyes searched the room. There was a strange gilded table by the fire, shaped like a compass on a map, with four leaves pointing outwards, and a little dish of water set right in the centre. On each leaf there was a large silk cushion. On each cushion rested one of the dragon eggs: blue, red, green and yellow.

  The eggs were safe.

  Either side of the table stood a burly palace guardsman gripping a lethal-looking pike and armed with longsword and throwing knife.

  Her gambles had worked so far. Now she played her best card, ‘I brought your necklace.’ Milla passed the pearls to Tarya with a squeeze of her fingers. ‘As you wanted, my lady,’ she added.

  ‘And the medicine for your brother …’ She went to Isak and handed him the glass vial.

  ‘Thank you, Milla,’ Isak said, taking it carefully from her shaking fingers.

  ‘Just in time, I see,’ Nestan said dryly.

  ‘I think you mean to thank Milla for her speedy return,’ Isak said. He swigged a mouthful of his medicine and came to stand so close to her that the guard had to release Milla’s arm.

  ‘Yes! What would we do without Milla?’ Tarya said loudly, playing her part. ‘Quick, fasten my pearls, won’t you?’ She lifted her mass of curly hair and turned her back.

  Milla fumbled with the clasp of the necklace, her fingers damp and trembling.

  ‘That will be all.’ Nestan dismissed the guards.

  She heard their footsteps receding beyond the door, and let out a low sob of relief.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Tarya whispered, patting her pearls into place. ‘Where did you go? I was so worried! It didn’t feel right, coming without you, but I wanted to stay with the eggs and keep them safe for you.’ She added quickly, ‘It doesn’t mean I accept the betrothal! They can’t make me do that.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Milla breathed shakily into her ear, so no one else could hear. ‘That plan you wanted? Be ready: I’ll need a diversion. If it works, let’s meet later, back at the ruined house?’

  Tarya swung round, eyes glittering conspiratorially, and nodded. ‘I’ll tell Isak.’

  Just then, the duke swaggered through an archway at the far side of the room, followed by Serina and Vigo.

  ‘Friends, friends, friends!’ Olvar greeted Nestan and the twins with a broad smile. His pale eyes slipped over Milla, and Finn next to her: as servants, they were invisible to him.

  ‘What could be more perfect?’ Olvar was lit up. A man who held his heart’s desire in the palm of his hand.

  Milla noticed that Serina and Vigo weren’t smiling and wondered what they knew that she didn’t.

  ‘Nestan, old friend, I thank you again for this most fitting gift,’ Olvar declared. ‘On the day our families celebrate their union, we also celebrate the return of the dragons to Arcosi. It’s a sign: we are blessed! You two are blessed!’

  He turned to indicate Vigo and Tarya, standing awkwardly together, fidgeting under his gaze. He started applauding them loudly, till Nestan, Isak and Serina joined in. The noise sounded hollow and echoing in the large room.

  ‘Sit! Let’s eat and celebrate this momentous day,’ the duke said.

  Time was running out. Any moment now, Milla and Finn would be dismissed, and she’d have to leave the eggs. She’d promised Kara she would stay with them. But how?

  Vigo bowed to Tarya. ‘Shall we?’ He indicated seats at the far side of the table. The eggs lay just behind them.

  Milla darted to Tarya’s side, pretending to adjust her hair.

  She checked the guards: they were staring straight ahead, like two statues.

  Next, she watched the duke, waiting for a moment when his attention moved away from the eggs.

  She just needed a distraction, a smashed glass, nudged in error.

  Her hand reached out …

  Tarya looked up and smiled at Milla, and her plan fell apart.

  Stealing broke all the rules of Norlander hospitality. If she stole this egg, Tarya, Isak and Nestan would never make it out of the palace. They’d be arrested. Blacklisted. They’d lose all they owned – house, ships, possessions.

  It wasn’t fair! Milla had nothing of her own. Why couldn’t she take the blue egg, just this one?

  Not if it destroyed Tarya’s life.

  She drew her hand back from the table. She would need another plan, and fast.

  Crack!

  It was the noise of something fragile breaking.

  Nestan glanced down at his glass.

  Serina checked the windows.

  Isak looked at Tarya, peering over his glasses.

  But Milla was already facing the eggs. She moved closer to them and she was the first to see.

  Crack! It came again.

  The duke noticed Milla now. ‘Get back from there!’ he bellowed.

  The guards crossed their pikes, pushing her back.

  ‘If you have damaged them …’ Olvar roared.

  ‘No!’ Milla cried. ‘It’s hatching!’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The blue egg was hatching.

  In the chaos, everyone pushed forwards.

  ‘Get back,’ the duke was yelling, putting himself closest to the eggs.

  ‘No!’ She had to be there. Milla felt it like a fire in her blood.

  The guardsmen dragged Milla away from the table. That was wrong; that was impossible. ‘No!’ She twisted round to gaze down at the blue egg. Its smooth curve was now zigzagged by a giant crack.

  ‘Let me go!’ she shouted, trying to tug her arms free. ‘I need to be there. Careful! Don’t scare it.’

  ‘Get her out of here.’ Olvar jerked his head towards the door.

  ‘Your Grace.’ Nestan limped over and put his hand o
n the duke’s arm. ‘She’s my servant. Let me deal with her?’

  ‘Let Milla go,’ Tarya cried. ‘She’s with us. She needs to stay with us. Vigo, please? Can’t you do something?’

  ‘Father?’ Vigo tried, but the duke was staring down at the eggs and nothing would avert his gaze now.

  Milla shoved her heels down, but the guards’ iron grip tightened.

  ‘No! Please,’ she begged. ‘Wait.’ She slid unwillingly, resisting every inch of the way.

  Crkk! A tiny nobbled lump appeared, right through the egg, pushing out a jagged piece of shell the size of her thumbnail.

  ‘It’s coming,’ Milla said. She struggled with all her strength, only causing more pain. ‘Let me see! Can’t you just let me see?’ she pleaded uselessly with the guards. Her neck protested as she twisted round.

  The dragon made steady progress, with pauses to rest. Tak! Another larger piece of shell fell off.

  They were almost at the door now. A few more steps. ‘I don’t mean to leave you!’ Milla shouted, praying that the little creature could hear her.

  Then came a different movement: a rocking, shifting, gathering. Quite suddenly, the two halves of the shell fell apart.

  ‘Ohh! Wait. Look!’ Vigo’s words stopped everything.

  Even the two guardsmen halted to stare.

  Curled on the cushion lay a damp, exhausted baby dragon, mewing faintly, next to the shards of its shell. Its body glistened with moisture, dark blue like lapis lazuli.

  ‘A dragon!’ Milla’s heart blossomed at the sight. The colour of the dragon unlocked something inside her: she recognised that blue. It was the blue from her dreams. This was meant to be.

  Before she knew what she was doing, Milla put her lips together and blew. She whistled a short series of five notes, ascending then descending. The song from her dreams. Loud and clear, it carried across the room.

  The dragon heard. It lifted its little head and listened. Drained and limp as it seemed, it heard Milla and it responded with a hoarse Ee-ee-ee-ee-eep! as if trying to sing the same song.

  She whistled again, the notes she’d been dreaming.

  The blue dragon replied. Everyone heard it.

  ‘I’m right here. Listen to me!’ Duke Olvar prodded the dragon.

  But the dragon only looked past him, trying clumsily to stand and failing. It had four scaly feet that seemed too big for its puny body, and it was weighed down by a lumpy damp mass on its back. It tried again, and almost fell off the table, trying to get to Milla.

  ‘Don’t let it fall!’ Milla said. ‘Let me go. Can’t you see? It needs me.’

  Duke Olvar gave the slightest nod of his head, and the guards released Milla’s arms. She darted across the room. The others parted for her, letting her through.

  This time the dragon staggered forwards, tripping over its tail. Then it got up, flicking its tail behind it, ridged with tiny blue bumps all along its length. It stood taller and stared at Milla through two bright unblinking eyes, fixed on her: two green jewels, each slashed vertically with a black iris.

  Milla and the dragon stared at each other and the world was remade.

  She felt as if the dragon saw right into her soul; and her soul gazed back. She knew, without a shadow of doubt, that this dragon was hers. She loved it. She would live and die for it. Nothing in her life had ever felt so right or so strong. Tears blurred her vision, but she was smiling so widely that she couldn’t manage her next whistle.

  The hatchling’s head drooped and it sank down, tugging at her heart, banishing the smile. She whistled again, and remembered Kara’s words from earlier that night: she needed to feed it! Didn’t she have meat and bread in her pocket? She whistled, faster, rummaging for it.

  She held out a pale morsel of chicken. ‘Here, little one.’

  The dragon stretched up and took the meat from her fingers delicately, swallowing it down. Its whole body was about the length of her forearm.

  She hurried for more meat and then, whistling and feeding, feeding and whistling, she lavished her entire concentration on these repeated actions, sensing the dragon growing stronger every moment.

  At last, the hatchling was full. Milla noticed its small belly was now round and swollen with its first meal. It rested down with a little sigh.

  The damp dark mass on its back stirred next, fluttering into life. Two wings sprang open, with shiny blue skin stretched taut between bones. Batlike, each wing ended in a tiny claw. They flapped once, and then folded again. The dragon set to preening itself, adorably inept, losing its balance now and again. It wobbled to the water bowl set into the table, put its snout down, drank deeply, then rested back.

  Milla reached in and picked it up, feeling the ache in her arms where the guards had bruised them. The blue dragon was light and cool, drying out now but clammy with its egg-sheen still on it. She draped it around her neck, its head in the hollow between her neck and her left shoulder, where the heat from her bare skin could comfort it. The dragon nestled into the dip of her collarbone, one claw hooked into the purple fabric of the dress. She felt it curl up and relax into sleep.

  Only then did Milla look up.

  Everyone else in the room was staring at her: spellbound, open-mouthed, speechless.

  Vigo was astonished; Isak delighted; Olvar thunderous.

  Milla moved her hands to protect her dragon, prompting a sleepy scolding mew from the creature curled at her shoulder.

  ‘Bring it here. Give it to me,’ the duke ordered.

  The world seemed to pause. Everyone stared.

  Milla’s life tilted on this moment.

  Either, she was a good servant girl.

  Or she held her dragon.

  ‘No,’ she said. She was going to disobey him. ‘No. No. No.’ She wasn’t used to saying that word. It flew from her lips like a flurry of black wings, a murder of crows, filling the room, taking the light.

  She blinked hard, coming back to this new reality. She spoke again, sure and strong, ‘He needs to sleep, Your Grace. He’ll be hungry when he wakes. We need more chicken.’

  The duke made a move as if to snatch the baby dragon from her. Then he halted. His gaze returned to the three eggs, still waiting. Doubt rippled across his face, making him look like someone else.

  ‘More chicken!’ the duke ordered and someone hurried from the room. Then, ‘He?’

  The dragon stirred, raising its head to listen.

  ‘Yes,’ Milla said firmly. ‘The dragon’s a he.’ She knew this with the same instinctive certainty that she knew the song. The same way she knew they belonged together. And she knew another thing. ‘His name is Ignato.’

  Iggie growled lightly, answering her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Things might not have gone well for Milla and Ignato, except that the next egg began to hatch. The duke stopped glaring at Milla and pushed forward to stand by the red cushion. ‘Let me through.’

  Shakily, Milla crept nearer the fire. She peered down, keeping her hand cupped over her dragon. ‘Sleep, Iggie, sleep.’

  Just as before, the red egg was tapped apart from the inside, till a gap was wide enough for the dragon to crawl out. It lay there, exhausted, its sides heaving.

  Duke Olvar copied what Milla had done, whistling and then humming with desperate eagerness. He bent low to the cushion, ‘Dragon! Dragon, do you hear me?’

  But the little dragon’s head sank down. It glistened, the colour of raw meat, but the colour was paling slightly, turning pinkish. Its breathing slowed.

  Tarya called out the dragon’s name. A two-beat cry, one high note, then a low: ‘Heral!’

  Milla watched, trying not to grin too broadly as the dragon responded to Tarya. It stirred and tried to stand, quivering.

  The red dragon stared at Tarya and she stared back. The air seemed to thicken and pulse between them. Then the red dragon made a noise that echoed Tarya’s call.

  Tarya’s eyes swam with tears.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Duke Olvar
cried. ‘What’s wrong with these creatures? I’m right here.’

  By then a servant had brought in a silver plate piled high with more chicken, so Tarya was allowed through. She gently took the red dragon in both hands and lifted him to her face. They touched each other, nose to nose. Tarya was whispering to the hatchling constantly. Then she brought Heral to sit by the fire and reached for a piece of meat.

  Heral growled and snapped it out of her fingers.

  Tarya sobbed, laughing-crying with delight and pride.

  The duke shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the table. ‘Still two to go,’ he said, wiping the disappointment from his face. For now, at least, he seemed to accept the dragons’ choices.

  The green egg was next and this dragon was stronger. Milla watched as it got up immediately and hissed in the duke’s face. Undeniably aggressive, its wings unfurled and flapped twice, creating a little draught.

  The duke stepped back, shocked.

  Vigo was by his side. He laughed, looking bewitched by the hatchling’s determination.

  It cocked its head towards Vigo, listening.

  Something crackled between them.

  Vigo laughed again. ‘Do you like that?’ he asked, and slowly reached down and held open his hands.

  The green dragon blinked its amber eyes and bowed its head, then clambered into Vigo’s hands and curled there, purring like a kitten.

  ‘She l-l-likes me!’ he stammered in astonishment, all his usual poise melted away in the warm glow of his delight. ‘Hello, Petra.’ He seemed like a small boy on his birthday.

  That left one egg. The yellow egg sat on its golden cushion, motionless. Duke Olvar leant low over the table, one ear to its pale dome.

  ‘This one must be mine! I can hear it.’ He picked up the egg in both hands and went to sit in a carved wooden chair at the other side of the fireplace. ‘Come on, then. I’m ready!’ He sat there, almost bursting with impatience, staring down at the egg he cradled in his hands.

  Milla’s heart sank. That wasn’t the right way. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. When a dragon and a person stared at each other and bonded, everything changed for them both. She’d felt it happen. She was a different person now. She’d been made new, when Iggie hatched and found her.