Dragon and the Princess Read Free

beasts they were.
    On the dragon’s back, a wild-eyed, howling dragon rider urged it on—a rider with long bone-colored hair who wore a huge red stone in the middle of his chest.
    She had definitely just had a vision of a warrior of Dorn.
    “Princess, what is it?” asked Lady Petrulla.
    Rozlinda looked around, finding her anxious ladies and the sunlit garden beyond them as unreal as if they were the vision.
    “You are required at the apothecary, I believe,” Lady Petrulla prompted.
    “Yes.” Rozlinda carried on.
    The cluttered, aromatic room welcomed her, but it didn’t soothe the jangle of thoughts inside her mind. Had she just received a warning of war? Should she tell someone? There’d been no violence in the man she’d seen, but he had looked foreboding.
    Mistress Madder seemed as out of sorts as she. She was muttering, “There’s not enough,” as she scraped out the ornate pot where the crumbly mother stone was kept.
    Rozlinda pulled on plain oversleeves to protect her diaphanous ones. “Aurora is so stupid.”
    “Only in some ways. She was clever enough to figure out that if Galian of Gar killed the dragon, she’d have to marry him, blood family or not.”
    “Perhaps he thought of it.”
    Mistress Madder put the bowl of chips and dust on the worktable. “Who spends the most time studying the rules and traditions of Saragond? The archivists, the king and queen—and the SVP. She did it.”
    Rozlinda knew the apothecary was right.
    By tradition, the mother stone had to be prepared by the SVP, so Rozlinda set to pulverizing it in a pestle. “Do you know if she had a vision?”
    “Aurora? If she ever had a vision of more than her own selfish wants, I never heard of it. Concentrate on your work.”
    Rozlinda looked at the grayish powder. “It’s not enough.”
    “We have to try. If the child dies in her womb, it will be her own fault.”
    But Rozlinda could tell that Mistress Madder would no more wish that on any woman than she could. She began to add the other ingredients. “No children for me, then, even if Izzy flowers today.”
    “Not until the next tribute comes. But don’t you be in a hurry to pick your husband.”
    Rozlinda stirred everything together, not saying that she’d made her choice already.
    Jerrott of the White Helm, captain of her guard. He of the golden curls and sky-blue eyes. The best, the brightest, the boldest, and safely of the blood.
    “I’ll have plenty of time. Even if Izzy flowered today, I wouldn’t risk marriage until next year.” She looked at the empty mother stone box. “It could be disastrous.”
    “There’s always dragon eye,” the apothecary pointed out.
    Rozlinda’s hands paused. “Can it be relied on?”
    “Absolutely. Three small stones swallowed, and no child can start that month.”
    Rozlinda stirred again, allowing a little hope. As soon as Izzy flowered, she could marry. Babies could wait. She wanted Jerrott and to cease to be V. But then she grimaced. “I suppose we’re short of dragon eyes, too.”
    “Not that short,” Mistress Madder said, with an understanding smile.
    Rozlinda poured the potion into a vial, but then, as she stripped off the oversleeves, a new fear shivered in. “What if no more comes? Ever? No more dragon eyes. No more mother stone.”
    I’ll never bear a live child, so I’ll not be able to risk conception. I’ll have to live as chastely as the SVP all my life.
    “Of course it will. As long as everything is done right this time.”
    “It will be, I promise.”
    The apothecary looked up. “If you’re SVP, yes. But it’ll be Princess Izzagonda by then.”
    “She’ll follow the rules, too, I’m sure. We all know the dangers—”
    A bell clanged.
    It startled Rozlinda, but caused nothing but puzzlement at first. Then the apothecary cried, “The dragon bell!” and Rozlinda’s ladies burst in. “Hurry, hurry, Princess. A dragon comes!”
    “But it’s not due until next year. . . .”
    They grabbed her and