Page 37 of Water Dragon
“Tell me whotheyare then,” Malcolm demanded.
“I do and you will find me hanged before you get the chance to sentence me yourself,” Sir Patrick said.
“You’re already dead,” Iona snapped, her voice so cold it sent a shiver down Malcolm’s spine. He had never heard her speak in that tone before. “You tried to kill the heir apparent, or had you already forgotten about that transgression? Aiming for a killing blow in the tournament is punishable by death. Do you honestly believe the king will spare your life after you placed such a threat on his son? A threat that still lingers?”
Sir Patrick observed her, looking as though he was teetering between the amused and the bemused. What was this woman, this servant, doing speaking to him like this? Then he frowned softly, eyes back in Malcolm’s.
“So, you’ve chosen then?” he asked.
“Beg your pardon?” Malcolm inquired.
“Well, it was between Lady S and this… whatever she is, wasn’t it? We’ve all been holding our breath waiting for you to decide.” He smiled at Malcolm’s surprise. “Oh, you thought we couldn’t tell? You thought Lady S didn’t know she had competition? Even when you brought that competition so firmly forward, making it perfectly clear to the whole court you were aiming to elevate her?” Sir Patrick let out a soft scoff. “You always were naïve, weren’t you? You think you’ll have it easy making them accept her as their queen? Trust me when I say that you will not.”
“I don’t care what the court thinks,” Malcolm retorted sharply.
“I think you do,” Sir Patrick said, a knowing smile on his mouth to punctuate that statement.
Malcolm glanced at Iona, hoping she wasn’t listening to this swill, but her posture was stiff and her face a mask of discontent. Malcolm couldn’t be sure if it was because she thought what Sir Patrick had just stated might have some truth to it, or whether it was because being in the presence of Sir Patrick was making her stiff with discontent.
“Tell us what it is that is afflicting Malcolm and we’ll speak to the king about a pardon,” Iona said, her tone carrying the same sharpness as before. This was not a plea for Malcolm’s life, it was a clean and fair deal, and she knew that Sir Patrick would recognize it. “They can’t very well kill you for that,” she added. “And at least you’re only half-dead, with a pretty good chance of escaping this whole situation with your neck intact.”
Sir Patrick smiled then. “Oh, you are going to be formidable, aren’t you?” he asked, not waiting for a reply as he added, “It’s a binding spell done with ancient runes that only a handful of sorcerers know. It has interlaced with the earthmagic in your blood. That is all I’ve been told.”
“But what does that mean?” Iona asked.
Sir Patrick shrugged. “Probably that he shouldn’t even try to use the earthmagic or…”
Or things might get hairy.
Malcolm’s eyes met Iona’s as the seriousness of the situation hit them.
Whatever their opponents were planning, they were already several moves ahead.
Chapter 10 - Iona
“What do we know now?” Iona asked as they climbed the stairs taking them from the cells and back to the hallways of the castle.
“We need someone with magic,” Malcolm said.
Their eyes met and they said in one voice, “Queen Maize.”
“Who better than one of the kingdom’s more powerful sorceresses?” Malcolm concluded, Iona’s hands grabbing his in her excitement that whatever was infecting him might soon be remedied.
“Where are their rooms?” Iona asked, hope shining in those blue eyes of hers.
“The East wing,” he replied.
“Mal!” Prince Ewan’s voice rang out. “What are you doing out of bed and not letting everyone know you’re able to stand on your own two feet? We’ve been worried sick for you.” He approached down the hallway, hands held out in soft wonder.
“I’m sorry,” Malcolm said, accepting the embrace the other prince offered him. “I was… not entirely… I got distracted,” he added by way of airy explanation.
Ewan looked from him to Iona and back again, then down at their once more interlocked hands. His eyebrows rose.
“The good kind of distracted?” he asked with a meaningful nudge with one elbow to Malcolm’s chest.
“No,” Iona broke in, not feeling like bearing witness to a male bonding moment over her losing her virginity. “The very bad kind. We need to speak with queen Maize. At once.”
“Oh, at once. Sounds very serious,” Ewan said, eyebrows raised. “I saw her dipping her feet into one of those beautiful fountains of yours a mere few minutes ago. She should still be there. Wait,” he stopped them when they moved to hurry straight to the garden, which hosted the beautiful fountains of theirs. “Tell me what’s going on.”
