Dragonfly, L. Kendecia Bastian [best love story novels in english .txt] 📗

at my soul, screaming something akin to 'home' to my heart.

My mind came back to me when the woman's scent began to diminish. But before I could move to catch up to the still walking servant, something else caught my eye: something so familiar that it shifted the stone floor beneath my feet. It was the Massimo Mountains: the same mountains outside the palace walls. It may have been something of a speck, unnoticeable to others: far off in the distance according to this piece, but I knew otherwise. I recognized those peaks instantly.

"Sir?" The girl's head peeked at me from around a corner and I moved to follow, my gaze lingering on the painting only a moment longer.


My hair was pulled back and away from my face in a low pony tail: I politely declined to have it cut since I have a strange attachment to it. My filthy gray attire (no more than an oversized night shirt, really), was replaced with another set of the same color: they gave me a gray loose-fitting shirt and trousers with brown leather boots that reached to my knees. However, those were placed neatly in the corner of a spare servant's room as I was dressed in a mage's garments. They were ebony in color, with emerald studded silver embroidery, a symbol not unlike the curse seal attached to my nape but bigger, was emblazoned onto the back and partially hidden by the rather large hood. Now that I had thought about it, as I walked behind my handler, he too bore the seal on his robes. To be honest, I'd never seen him with anything remotely related to the seal other than the pendant he wore around his neck which he used to restrict me along with an incantation.

Silently I followed Luxor who donned the white ceremonial robes of a Shaman, trekking an unfamiliar path. As we drew nearer to where we were going, the sounds of murmuring and excited chatter wafted through the hall. Odd, but not unwelcome scents greeted my nose and opened my stomach. It was not meat, not the kind I am used to eating: but hot and flavored.

Cooked food.

Soon, the scent was nearly overwhelming as we entered a large room. The guest dining hall, I recall. I had been here once before, but that was years ago. The design had changed since then, and all that is really left of the once incredibly ornate room was a rather ridiculously large round table, looking to fit at least a hundred men. This table, however, was laden with dishes I could never dream of. Different meats and fruit called to me, but I held myself firm. The soldiers, who were the ones chattering, were standing around dressed in their wartime attire: some wore armor, some wore robes, and the archers came in their tunics and slacks. Each man and the occasional woman wore their weapon of choice proudly, none seeming to notice as I all but floated behind my handler as we both headed toward an elevated part of the Hall. There on the raised piece, were four thrones: three of which were occupied.

King Heath was seated in the red cushioned golden throne, third from the left, aged not a day over fifty with slightly graying red hair. He wore his usual royal blue robes and bullion crown with but one peculiar ruby embedded in its center. The king sat with a slightly withered fist beneath his jaw as he looked on, amused. To his immediate left sat the younger of his two sons: no older than twelve with scarlet locks and gray eyes to match his father. Keith was a boy of great patience and benevolence, an emotional ghost of his late mother, Queen Katherine. The twelve year old wore dark blue robes trimmed with silver, and he seemed to be a bit…fidgety, as if wanting to mingle with his loyal subjects. It was to be expected: every bit like his mother he was; she was the only one other than Glen to demonstrate kindness toward me.

And one entire seat over from the king's right, sat Ingram, the Crown Prince of Noirzhe. He was nothing, if not the spitting image of his mother, the androgynous lad that he was. He had his mother's face and slender form, with nothing to tell of his masculinity save for his deepened voice and flat chest. He had hair of the most natural white, and eyes of the sharpest amber. He looked all the world a flaxen angel, dressed in white and gold robes… save for the perpetual scowl he wore like the very skin he was in. The prince sat with the side of his face resting in his upraised palm, glaring at his crown which was perched atop his left knee. Just about everyone who knew the late queen knew that Ingram, no matter how much he resembled his mother, was the total opposite of that dear, sweet lady.

Luxor and I stopped before the Imperial family and bowed, as was custom.

"My Liege," we chorused, my first words spoken outside the Tower since the predawn light.

"Luxor," King Heath greeted, nodding to the shaman and then to me. "Dragonfly."

We rose, my head kept low as I followed my handler up onto the raised platform, Luxor standing half a step behind the throne: position of the Royal advisor; and I in the shadows as per usual. I felt eyes on me and followed the prickle-like feeling to the watchful gray gaze of the second prince. I merely shot him a glance and turned my attention elsewhere: if I were to be caught looking any of them in the eye, punishment was severe and I for one would like to retain my monthly privilege. My eyes drifted to the floor-to-ceiling windows and beyond, looking at the lush green meadow awash with the light of springtime.

Come to think of it, that was where I should have been. There were only two other times I'd been somewhat swindled out of my chance to spread my wings: and that was before the war against Moisteur and the other occasion was a sporadic idea of the shaman himself who seemed to have the notion to drag me along for the Announcement of the Ranks. And judging from the magnificent layout of the buffet, it was the latter. I looked over at my handler, who leant over ever so slightly to talk to the king. Keith was all but careening over to hear what was being said, much to the amusement of his father.

Again, I felt that prickly sensation of being watched. My attention roamed the large room as imperceptibly as possible and came to lock with familiar brown eyes. Roderick stood in front of the window now, goblet of wine in his hand. He was dressed in his usual archer's attire and his arrows were strapped securely to his back. He gave me a small nod of acknowledgement and I returned the gesture after a moment's hesitation. Soon after he beamed, a wide grin plastered across his face, causing both my brows to furrow in confusion. But before either of us can react, the king silenced the entire room.

Luxor stepped forward, and his voice washed over everyone in attendance. "King Heath has called you all here not only for the anniversary celebration of the win against Moisteur, but to announce the new ranks."

Out of his sleeve he pulled a scroll that unraveled to quite a length. Much like the last time I'd been present, I decided to set my mind free, only listening in for the most prominent positions. There were at least twenty battalions in the army, all headed by the best of the best. Takk was announced as general for the D-Brigade of the fifth battalion again for the second consecutive time. I brought myself back to the room, looking to see where the swordsman was. He stood in the shadows of the room amidst other eager soldiers, the same prideful look sitting in his eyes.

As for all of the archers, the crown prince was captain. It wasn't much of a surprise, really. Everyone else seemed to be geared toward the position of Lieutenant. However, this wasn't the piece of information that had garnered my wayward attention. What stunned me was who was labeled Lieutenant.

"…Roderick Armania."

There was an eruption of mixed murmuring. Some were a bit skeptical -- the boy was but a rookie after all, not to mention that it had only been three months since his enrollment in the army. Others, the archers mainly, sounded as if they knew it would happen all along. Roderick knelt before the king to receive his Royal Blessing. Cheers and applause rang out when he stood to be presented. Luxor went on to the remaining battalions and I let my mind move on to other things.


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3

I'd been allowed to spend the night within the castle. It may have been the servant's quarters but it was much more lavish than that cage in the Tower. I had almost questioned Luxor of my stay but thought better of it, foolishly but halfheartedly, believing that I'd be able to chance the meadow behind the castle. With a heavy sigh, I turned to lay on my side. The image of the painting in the main hall invaded my thoughts and I considered going out to look at it properly. Blinking at the part of the wall that met the moonlight, I arose and walked toward the window. This one didn't overlook the fields behind the castle, but the vast garden planted by the queen herself before she passed. Roses and carnations were her choices -- they had buried her with an entire bouquet. I inhaled, the many combined scents of the garden seeping through the seams of the windows. The night beckoned me but I could only deny her call.

I met the dawn at the window where I had eventually fallen asleep sitting in its sill. Absently as I stretched, I rubbed a hand over the mark at my nape where the skin was slightly raised beneath the mark. I trained my ears on the sounds and the happenings around. Servants were already up and puttering about their duties. Footsteps approached not an hour after my waking and a different girl whisked me away to the baths.

Soon after I was dressed in loose fitting clothes, the ones set out for me previously once again neglected. The girl left me in the care of one of the butlers and he led me to the Dining Hall. King Heath sat to the head of the table, to his right, the queen's empty chair. Along the length of the table were Ingram and Keith who sat opposite each other while Luxor sat beside the crown prince. The butler and I bowed to the king and his sons and I assumed my place in my handler's shadow, head slightly bowed and hands at my sides.

"Please, Dragonfly," came the younger of the prices' voice. "Sit with us."

I looked to him and then to the King and finally Luxor. The shaman did not look back at me but glanced at the King. His Majesty looked at his youngest son and then nodded. Luxor raised a hand to beckon me and I sat beside him. Prince Keith told the butler who brought me here to bring me a plate. Silently I thanked Glen for teaching me all those years ago how to use the different eating instruments, even if I was a bit rusty. The entire breakfast went by in silence