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Down in the snowy street, Luane, the Dragon of Almara, was an imposing figure, a giant brute of a woman standing beside her giant brute of a horse. Her blonde hair was wild and her blue eyes narrow and she wore silver armor, beautifully engraved, with the sigil of a roaring dragon on the breastplate. All of that was very hard to see in the blizzard, however, even though Luane was carrying a torch. Liadan and the others could see only a giant figure with yellow hair that was simply too large to be anyone else.
Liadan knew that some believed Rowan to be half-giant, but Luane could have passed for a full giant, for she was taller even than the Black Lioness, standing at a staggering seven feet tall. The stories said she was half-Wildoras and half-giant, being so gargantuan in size and yet able to cast orange magick fire from her hands, fire that had consumed whole hamlets with its rage.
As far as Liadan was concerned, the stories were right. She wouldn’t have been surprised if a woman of Wildoras had lain with a giant to create Luane, for it wasn’t uncommon among the wild women, though it was frowned upon. Liadan’s people used to speak of Luane with great disdain back in Wildoras. They would sit around their fires and tell stories of the Dragon, of how she brought shame to them by using her power to slay innocents, and how the youth of each tribe should view Luane as a tale of caution.
As a child, Liadan had listened in awe to the tales of Luane slaughtering entire villages for pay. She had been amazed by Luane’s power and had even admired her ability to adapt to the world outside Wildoras. But now, as a grown woman who had to face Luane's fire, Liadan wasn't in awe. Liadan was about ready to wet her smallclothes.
Outside, the gusts of snow were building strength, but the cold did not seem to bother the Dragon, who peered with narrowed eyes up and down the street as she held her torch aloft. On Luane’s back was a great two-handed sword, and the silver pommel gleamed watery in the guttering light of her torch when she turned.
“Shite. And of course, Saoirse only just left. She could have defended us easily,” said Ethne.
“Perhaps,” Liadan said grimly, “but I would rather Saoirse did not risk her life to defend us and place in jeopardy her wedding day. Rowan would never forgive us if Saoirse was slain. We would never forgive ourselves.”
Ethne looked frustrated and on the verge of arguing. Instead, she gazed intently Liadan and said, “What do we do, Li? Flee out the back door?” with the sort of somber disposition that made Liadan think she might have thrown herself in the sea had Liadan but asked.
“Is she really so terrifying?” asked Ava in innocent wonder. She stared wide-eyed up at Liadan and Ethne, and gazing down at her, Liadan thought she did indeed look as doe-like as Rowan had often joked.
Ethne goggled at the princess. “She’s a beast of a woman, even bigger than Rowan, for the sake of the gods, and you would ask—!”
“Liadan is the Knight of the Wild!” said Ava confidently. “No one can best her! Not even some giant knight with a giant sword!”
Liadan smiled to hear Ava’s words. “While I am pleased by your confidence in me, my princess,” she said gently, “there was a reason Saoirse wished to escort us to Hastow. There are very few who can best the Dragon. Not even a knight of the wild could.”
Ava frowned. “But you’re the greatest knight there ever was!”
Liadan looked down at Ava and wondered what she could have done to have deserved such doting. She had never actually fought in front of Ava against a worthy foe and had only slain men she had taken by surprise. True, she had slain many of Mairin’s thugs while Ava watched in awe, but those ragged, underfed bounty hunters hadn’t been much of a challenge. Even little Lysa, without training, had handled them well. And when slaying the assassins back at Caradin, Liadan had easily bested the poor women with magick. In truth, she had little to boast about.
And yet, for whatever reason, Ava believed Liadan far more skilled and powerful than she was in reality. Perhaps it was due to King Eyvor’s fireside tales of Wildoras, of which Ava had been privy since she was a child. Whatever the case, the stories weren’t true. Liadan was the best in her class, perhaps the best knight to graduate the academy in recent years, but she was not a legend. The Dragon of Almara was.
“The back door,” agreed Liadan, looking at Ethne.
Ethne grimly nodded.
Ava gasped in disbelief when Liadan grabbed her by the arm, grabbed her saddle bags from the floor, and marched them from the room, pulling the princess along. Ethne grabbed Lysa’s arm and did likewise, ignoring it when Lysa sputtered indignantly.
“I don’t believe you!” Ava cried, golden hair flying out behind her as she staggered after Liadan. “You’re supposed to be a fearless, honorable knight! An unconquerable woman of the wild!”
“I’d rather be alive and conquerable,” panted Ethne behind Ava.
They left the corridor and stopped on the landing, where they peered over the rail. As usual, the tavern below was crowded. Women were drinking, laughing, and dancing, and the band was playing enthusiastically.
Liadan searched the crowd below and her heart skipped a beat: the Dragon of Almara was standing at the bar, ordering a pint from Grainne, who looked quite nervous. Luane went still, as if she sensed Liadan watching her, and very slowly, she turned her head, and their eyes connected.
“Shite. She’s seen us,” muttered Ethne.
Smirking, Luane slowly lifted her gauntlet toward them and spread the silver fingers.
Liadan’s eyes flew wide. “Get down!” she yelled and tackled Ava just in time: a ball of fire came rocketing toward them where they stood on the upstairs landing, shaking the walls and sending up shards of wood in a splash of fragments when it made impact with the railing.
Liadan could hear people screaming in the tavern below, could hear Ava, Ethne, and Lysa coughing. Through the smoke and fire, she saw Ethne and Lysa crouched against the wall opposite, coughing as Ethne tried to shield Lysa from the spreading flames.
Ava was likewise trembling and coughing as Liadan’s arms clutched her tight. They were lying on their sides on the floor, as before them, Liadan’s saddle bags were consumed by the flames.
“S-She cast fire from her hand!” coughed Ava in disbelief. “A huge fireball! Large enough to consume the building!”
“Now you know why they call her the Dragon,” said Liadan darkly, but she went still when she heard boots on the stair: Luane was coming for them. And she was taking her time. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Ethne looked through the fire at Liadan, her gray eyes panicking. “We have to get out of here, Li!” she growled, lurching to her feet. “Now!” She helped Lysa stand, who was still coughing shrilly.
Liadan was helping Ava to her feet when Luane appeared at the top of the stair, towering in her silver armor, indifferent to the flames dancing around her. With her laughing eyes fixed on Liadan, she stepped slowly through the flames, her shadow falling over Ava, who shrank before her. Luane was lifting her hand again when Liadan bellowed, “NO!”
Liadan lunged protectively in front of Ava and felt the magick leapt out of her in an invisible blast, smacking with incredible force right in the center of Luane’s breastplate. The giant woman was sent careening backward, straight through the wall, and into an unoccupied room, the walls of which crumbled around her in fragmented bricks and wood paneling. The force of the impact brought parts of the ceiling down, and as the Dragon was lurching beastlike to her feet, she was knocked down again by the sudden rain of debris.
Liadan waited breathlessly for Luane to burst out of the rubble, but she did not. Relief washed over her: they had time to get away.
“I knew you could stop her, my knight!” Ava cried, hugging Liadan’s arm. She bounced up on tiptoe and pecked Liadan’s cheek with her soft lips again and again, but Liadan was barely aware as all her attention was fixed on the rubble pile.
“Let us go! Stand not amazed!” growled Ethne, waving her hand in Liadan’s face. “Before that monster rises again and slays us!”
“Liadan!” Lysa begged. Her face was smudged and she was frightened and coughing.
Liadan came back to reality, gazing from face to face. She had fallen into a trance of fear, waiting for Luane to rise. “You’re right,” she said hoarsely. “Let’s go.”
They mounted their horses and raced from Hargendon, flying fast through the white storm. As they galloped along at breakneck speed, Liadan held out her hand, and the blizzard parted before them like a curtain.
Liadan caught the others giving her curious looks and knew they were no doubt wondering why she hadn’t used this power before. It was because she didn’t have the power before. Knowing Ava and falling in love with her had awakened something in Liadan. Something she couldn’t explain. But she was never so powerful as before the last few days.
Liadan led them south, pushing further and further from the cluster of villages behind them. Luane would eventually catch up to them, after all, and she did not wish for there to be casualties in the ensuing fight.
To their amazement, the winter storm, which had seemed to go on forever, suddenly began to clear. The wind dropped its screaming, falling abruptly silent, and the clouds overhead glided away, revealing a scattering of stars in the night sky. They pulled their horses to a stop at the height of an incline and remained still as the horses snorted mist in the sudden quiet.
Blank snow spread away from them to the bottom of a great valley, where ancient long barrows stood in rows either side, their stone doors surrounded by arched walls of brick and carved into the valley’s sides.
“The Valley of Queens,” whispered Ava, who was sitting the saddle before Liadan, snowflakes still sprinkled on the hood of her fur cloak. The hood was drawn up over her head, and Liadan could only see wisps of her golden hair. “The resting place of my ancestors,” she said, awe-stricken and hushed.
Each realm in the seven kingdoms had two ancient valleys, one for the kings and one for the queens. The valley they had come to, with them being in Illa, belonged to House Damaris. Liadan could see the great statue of the goddess Eyslath in the distance. She stood at the other end of the valley, towering over the dead queens, her six arms spread and her sleeves hanging from them like water.
“But how do you know it’s the Valley of Queens?” wondered Ethne, who was sitting astride her white stallion behind Lysa. She nodded at the valley below. “Those could be kings down there.”
“I can feel it in my bones,” Ava whispered in a trembling voice and said no more.
Liadan knew what was going through Ava’s mind. If not for the Endoreth invasion and the alliance with Almara, Ava would have remained at Caradin. She would have become queen, ruled the realm for decades, and eventually gone to her eternal rest in the valley of her kin. Now perhaps she would die senselessly, slaughtered by Luane’s magick or by random bandits in the woods, and her grave would be shallow and unmarked.
Somehow, Liadan knew Ava was wishing she was as clever as her father had supposed, she knew the princess was wishing she had orchestrated a coup and taken the crown from her father. The princess could have then gathered allies on her own and led her people against King Bjorn and Endoreth’s armies. It wouldn’t have been easy, but it would have been better than selling herself in a marriage.
But because Ava was not witty or pragmatic or even ruthless, she was here, living on the run, her life in constant peril, sleeping in the snow and the mud, wearing the same gown every day. Because she was meek and spoiled and useless, she was here. Liadan could feel the bitterness and sorrow welling up in Ava as the princess gazed almost longingly across the Valley of Queens.
Liadan didn’t know why, but she had been able to read Ava’s mind a great deal lately. Back at the tavern in Hargendon, for instance, she had felt Ava’s rage-fueled desire to cut off the head of the man who groped her, and Liadan had obeyed to please her. Even when she was furious at Ava. . . Liadan always found herself trying to please her.
“It feels almost eerie here,” Lysa said, hugging her cloak to her throat and shivering. She looked very tired and unhappy, her brown hair tousled under her hood, her eyes lined. She was still wearing her leather armor and sword beneath her cloak. “But at least the storm has lifted,” she said with relief.
“It hasn’t,” said Ethne, gazing back over her shoulder.
Liadan looked over her shoulder as well: the storm was raging on behind them. The sheets of snow and icy wind howled just beyond the edge of the valley, as if there was some invisible barrier the storm could not pass. Liadan, having grown up in Wildoras, had seen such magick before, but only in the wilds. She wondered what wild woman magi House Damaris had employed to cast such a spell over the valley.
“A magick barrier. Let us take advantage of it,” said Liadan, taking up the reins of her brown horse again. She nodded at the valley below. “Let us hide ourselves in one of these tombs before Luane has found us here gawping.”
Ava gasped. “We can’t disturb the tombs! They're my ancestors and the goddess Eyslath will—”
“I’m sure your ancestors wouldn’t want you to die at the hands of the Dragon, your highness,” said Ethne. She also took up the reins of her stallion, reaching around Lysa. She nodded grimly at Liadan. “Let us venture in.”
House Damaris was one of the oldest houses in the seven kingdoms, going back to the age of the elves, when the elven had ruled the land alongside humans, before their sudden and mysterious disappearance. As a result, there were thousands of tombs, one beside the other, like little doors under the hill, and the valley seemed to go on forever, rising above them on both sides.
The only sound was the faint jingle of the knights’ armor and the crunch of horse hooves over the snow. The magick barrier appeared to keep most of the snow out, and as a result, the snow wasn’t very deep at all and fell only in a thin layer. Liadan was grateful for that, as they would not have been able to reach any of the tombs to hide themselves. The snow was also so thin that they didn’t leave an obvious trail for Luane to follow. Instead, the horses clomped softly through a fine sprinkling of snow from which patches of mud and grass could be seen. They made good time down the valley as a result.
“We should choose one quickly if we are to do this,” said Lysa in a low voice when they had already passed six tombs, “though shutting ourselves in a tomb with little air seems foolish.”
Liadan glanced at Lysa irritably. Lysa was always complaining but never had any ideas of her own. Liadan didn’t know how Ethne could stand her or what she saw in the tiny handmaiden beyond her admittedly ripe breasts and tight—
“The tombs have passages leading out of the valley,” said Ava quietly. “They are not without air.”
Lysa and Ethne looked around at Ava in surprise, and Liadan didn’t blame them: it hadn’t occurred to any of them that Ava actually knew things about the world. Not only had the princess been shut away for her entire life, but according to Lysa, Ava hadn’t much interest in learning and had only read books to escape into fantasy.
Ava blushed miserably as everyone stared at her and she admitted, “The romance series . . . Knights of Illa, Part XXVI . . . In that story, the knights hide in the tombs of House Damaris with the princess. They both have s-sex with her in the tomb,” (Ava blushed brighter) “and the goddess Eyslath is angered by their defilement of the tomb and curses them, so they are forced to flee the valley through a back tunnel . . .”
“So as long as we don’t have group sex on the queen’s sarcophagus, Eyslath won’t try to kill us,” said Ethne, her lips pulling in a crooked smile as she gazed down the valley at the enormous statue.
Lysa made an impatient noise. “Those are just romance novels, your highness,” she said in exasperation.
Ava frowned, annoyed now. “Beathan Macclellan didn’t just write romance novels! She was a historian and all of her books were accurate!”
Ethne raised her brows, her head bobbing as the white horse carried her along. “Hmm. Learn something new every day. I always thought Macclellan was trash, myself.”
Ava glared sideways at Ethne. Then something occurred to her and she smiled as she teased, “You read romance novels?”
“In my youth,” said Ethne, grinning.
“Do you remember which tomb they hid in, my princess?” Liadan asked. “Perhaps that tomb alone has an escape tunnel, while the others do not.”
“Good thinking,” said Ethne.
“It was the tomb of Queen Saraid,” said Ava thoughtfully.
“Ah,” said Ethne, blinking. “The warrior queen.” She frowned. “I wonder why Saraid would have an escape tunnel in the back of her tomb. I mean, she was dead. If the tomb was flooded or some other, why would she need to escape?”
“They say that she faked her own death,” Ava answered, amused, “and that she escaped out of the tunnel and ran away with the elves. Saraid supposedly had an elven lover who took Saraid with her to . . . wherever the elves went.”
“So if we enter the tomb,” Ethne realized, “Saraid’s coffin will be empty?”
“If the legends are true,” Ava answered. “Some believe the legend only exists to explain away the absence of the corpse. In reality, Saraid’s tomb was raided, but the thief couldn’t get her out of her armor, so he took the whole corpse.”
“Disgusting!” cried Lysa while Ethne howled with laughter.
“Do you believe any of this horse shite, Liadan?” laughed Ethne.
Liadan was hardly paying attention to the others. Her eyes were scanning each tomb door they passed, looking for the symbols and signifiers that would mark the occupier. Queen Saraid’s symbol had been the rune symbol Fehu, which Liadan had always thought looked like a tree with only two branches on one side. The rune would be enclosed by a triangle, with many “heatwave” lines coming from it. Liadan knew because she had been forced to study the runes of the entire Damaris dynasty at the academy . . . which had been no riveting feat.
Ava, however, noticed the tomb of Saraid before Liadan did. “There it is,” Ava said, voice yet again hushed and awed.
Liadan and Ethne pulled their horses to a stop.
Ava was right: the tomb of Queen Saraid was on their immediate left, overrun with dead vines and flowers and muddy grass, all of which peeped brown and lifeless from beneath a thin layer of snow. Liadan could see the arched brick wall, crumbling with the slow passage of time, and in the center of the bricks, the stone door, also covered in a web of dead brown vines. It looked as if no one had been there for centuries.
Liadan dismounted, her eyes on the tomb. She had the strange feeling that entering the place was about to change her world forever. She couldn’t shake it. Her, the knight who was exiled and forbidden to rule, would become a ruler if she set foot in that tomb. The whispers of it echoed in her mind. Where did the whispers come from? She wondered if the others were hearing whispers, but when she glanced around, none of them seemed bothered.
“How do we open the door?” wondered Ethne, also dismounting. “Even you can’t open it, Li. The way I understand it, these doors were immensely heavy to keep out thieves, and it took the help of giants to place them in the first place! Back when giants weren’t trying to rape us and eat us, that is.”
Ethne reached up and lifted Lysa down from the horse, setting her on her feet. Lysa looked intrigued by what Ethne had said, and Liadan was beginning to notice that Lysa only seemed to take stories seriously when they were coming from Ethne. She almost always dismissed Ava. Perhaps it was Ethne’s old bard charm shining through. The Knight of the Sparrow could charm anyone into caring about her tales.
“Really?” said Lysa, gazing up at Ethne eagerly. “The giants were our friends once?”
“Oh yes,” said Ethne, gazing around the valley as if it impressed her. “It would have been fascinating to have examined these tombs under different circumstances.”
“These are my ancestors, lest you forget!” said Ava hotly. “Their tombs should remain intact and unbefouled!” She was still sitting on Liadan’s horse and folded her arms, indignant.
“Oh—of course, your highness,” said Ethne, playfully bowing.
Ava rolled her eyes. Then she held out her arms and lifted her chin. “Lift me down, my knight!”
Liadan obeyed, reaching up and taking Ava by her narrow waist. She set the princess gently on her feet. Then Liadan turned and – with the others watching in confusion – she lifted her hand and focused, sending all of her magick, all of its strength, to the heavy stone door of the tomb. Sweat beaded on her brow as she silently strained with effort. She saw the heavy stone door move slightly and frowned, focusing harder, and in seconds, the round, flat stone door had rolled aside, revealing a dark passage. Liadan lowered her hand and heard the others gasping.
“How did you do that?” cried Ava with a sort of happy ecstasy and took Liadan’s arm, peering up at her.
“I don’t know,” Liadan answered breathlessly. She had never before been able to move things with her mind, but back at Hargendon, she had moved Luane, and now, she had opened a tomb. It had to be Ava. Nothing else made sense.
There had been stories back in Wildoras that once a wild woman found a compatible mate, then she would become what she was truly meant to be, growing in power and might. Liadan’s power had been strengthening since she’d met Ava, to the point that she had been able to defend the princess from would-be assassins with ease and on her own back at Caradin. Now she could move things with her mind, and she felt an overwhelming desire to impregnate Ava . . . To rip off Ava’s clothes and finger her, until the seed had passed through her fingertips and into Ava’s sex . . . Until her woman produced a child as mighty as her parent . . . In essence, Ava had triggered the mating urge in Liadan.
Liadan didn’t quite know what to do. This was a bad time to procreate, out here in the middle of nowhere, while living on the run. But she also felt that if she didn’t, she would combust.
“You’re amazing!” Ava cried breathlessly.
When Liadan looked down, Ava was gazing up at her, her pretty green eyes wide in wonder and admiration, her cleavage heaving, so soft and plump. The princess looked so sweet, innocent, and beautiful, her face framed beneath her hood by wisps of golden hair. Liadan wanted to rip her clothes off. The urge swept over her – more powerful than it had ever been – but she held it down and turned away. Her clitoris, however, was raging in her smallclothes.
“Come,” said Ethne, leading the horses forward. She appeared calm, though Liadan could tell she was as shocked as everyone else by Liadan’s new abilities. Ethne passed Ava the reins of Liadan’s brown horse as she said, “Lead us inside and hurry! We linger here as if a dangerous magi weren’t on our trail!”
“She’s right,” said Lysa, though she was still gazing at Liadan with something between amazement and caution.
Liadan turned away, and lifting her hand, she conjured a golden wisp to it, the ball of hovering light casting their faces in shadow as they all entered the tomb. But the horses, not at all pleased by the prospect of going underground, bucked and nickered, kicking their legs wildly. Liadan’s horse nearly kicked Ava, who managed to dodge narrowly when Liadan grabbed Ava around the waist and pulled her back.
Ethne struggled with her horse for a while, then gave up and unbuckled her saddle bags. She smacked the white horse’s bottom, and it took off into the valley again. Liadan did likewise with her own horse, and the group watched for a moment as the horses tore away, galloping so fast it was as if the Dragon herself were casting flames behind them.
“I dunno,” said Ethne, shifting the saddle bags onto her shoulder. “We could always ride you.”
“Very funny,” said Lysa sarcastically.
Liadan stepped forward and rolled the stone door back into place with her mind, closing them in such darkness that it was hard to see each other, even with the magick of Liadan’s golden wisp light. Then, preparing to head down the tunnel, she took Ava’s hand, and something hot jumped through their fingers. Ava didn’t seem to notice the heat, but Liadan quickly took her hand away: her fingertips were glowing. They were glowing a bright gold, and she could see her fingerprints and veins, as if her fingertips had turned transparent from the light.
“What is it?” asked Ava innocently. She seemed unfazed by Liadan’s glowing fingers, and it was because Liadan’s fingers often glowed when she cast magick.
But Liadan knew her fingers were glowing for a different reason entirely. By touching Ava’s skin, Liadan’s body had reacted to Ava and had started the process. If Liadan were to finger Ava again, she would impregnate the princess.