Adrina walked through the garden lost in thought, as she did often now. Many thoughts crossed her mind, each seeming to blow in and out with a fresh breeze. She walked until she came to the white gazebo in the center of the garden and rested a bit. She had not felt well lately and grew tired easily. Her skin was milky white and her eyes held a pinkish haze. Father Francis blamed it on her not eating though she insisted she had been eating.
Pain hit her suddenly and she doubled over. She began to cry out as she coughed up blood once more. The tiny dragon she had named Tnavres dropped from her shoulder and licked the blood hungrily. “Stop!” she called out to the beast. “Follow, hurry!”
Tnavres hopped back onto her shoulder. She waved a finger to scold him. “Naughty, Tnavres,” she said, “Bad dragon.”
Dizzy and weak, slowly she staggered back to her room. She would not tell Father Francis about this. She hoped she could make it back to her chamber without him or any of the servants spotting her. The walk seemed overly long and arduous. It was all she could do to hold herself upright. She was so very tired; her body desperately needed sleep. Everything spun suddenly and she grabbed out at the wall, using it as a support.
Tnavres flapped his wings rapidly from his perch atop her shoulder. He was as agitated as she was disoriented. Without warning he launched from her shoulder.
She reached out to catch him but as she did this, he turned about and locked his jaws around her hand. His teeth plunged inward; the flesh of her hand turned to stone. As she stumbled and fell against the wall, she gripped her forearm and squeezed with all her might as if this alone could stop the progression.
“No, not again,” she whispered as she clutched her arm.
“Yes, again,” came the voice. “You don’t listen.”
“But I have listened and done all you asked. I gave you it all. What more do you want? What more?”
“You know what more. What must I do to convince you?”
“Never,” she cried out.
In her mind’s eye, Adrina saw the Dragon King, his great wings spread wide and his great clawed hands reaching out, enveloping her. “To live, you must. It will only take a moment and then it will be done. You must not fight; you must accept. Do you understand?”
Adrina started to respond. Pain swept through her body. She coughed up blood. “You are a liar!” she shouted.
“Not me,” said the Dragon King. “This is not my doing. Hurry now or it will be too late.”
Adrina writhed and convulsed on the floor. “Make it stop,” she whimpered.
“Only you, Adrina Alder, can make it stop. Do what I’ve asked and it will be done.”
The pain sought to sweep her away. “Yes,” she shouted out, “I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“So be it,” said the Dragon King and with the saying, the one became the many and the dragon flock took flight.
On the floor beside her, Tnavres released his grip on her hand. He jumped up onto her leg, cocked his head to the side as if listening to something or someone unseen. With his head, he lifted up her shirt then he faded into her, leaving only his mark upon her skin.
Adrina’s eyes went wide as the pain left her. She stood unsteadily then hurried down the hall. When she reached her room, she crawled into bed and soon fell asleep. She was so tired and her bed was so warm and soothing. A convulsion sent a shock wave through her body that forced her to consciousness. Rubbing her head as it throbbed, she made her way to the basin near the bed. Her hand trembled violently as she poured a cup of water and raised it to her lips. She spilled most of it onto the floor. The cool water was momentarily soothing to her throat and stomach. She dipped a cloth into the basin and touched it to her forehead, groping her way back to bed. A cough sent her into another seizure and she vomited up the water. Afterwards she grew sleepy again and fell back to sleep.
A familiar sound drifted into her thoughts, a voice that had soothed her through many childhood illnesses. The voice of the one who had recently left her, Isador, whispering to her that everything would be all right. She wondered if she were dreaming, but then the voice streamed into her consciousness again, soft and pleasant, nurturing.
“I am sorry, Izzy,” she said, momentarily slipping into the familiar little girl’s voice that the presence of her nanny stirred. “I didn’t mean for you to have to return to Imtal. I’m getting better really. I’ll be fit in no—”
“I don’t think so. You just rest for awhile. I will be back momentarily,” Myrial said, cutting Adrina short. She did not have the heart to tell her that she was not Isador.
Adrina rapidly dropped off. She dreamed of Valam and Seth. All the arguments and fun times they had had together. She missed them both. Images played in her unconscious for a time, and then she entered a pleasant deep slumber. She had only been asleep for a couple of hours, or so it seemed, when she was awakened. The voice sounded so urgent, and so very distant.
“Wake up, princess, wake up!” shouted Myrial.
To Adrina, it seemed it was Isador who shook her again and again and wiped her face with a wet, soothing cloth.
“Please, Adrina. Wake up,” begged the girl.
Adrina didn’t want to wake up; she still was so tired. She wanted to sleep.
“Wha-a-at?” she asked groggily.
“Come quick, princess!”
“Whaaat isss itt?” asked Adrina through a yawn.
“It is King Andrew; hurry.”
Thoughts of sleep were suddenly chased away. Adrina jumped out of bed, pulling a robe around her as she raced out the door and down the hall to her father’s chamber.
Father Francis and many others were gathered around his bedside when she arrived. The priests of the Father led by Francis were chanting words in the holy tongue; and from the level of their tone, she knew something was amiss. Her father smiled as he saw her face. He waved at the priests to fend them off and to end their unnerving chanting.
She quickly knelt beside his bed, taking his hand as she did so. She asked Father Francis what was wrong, but he only answered by shaking his head. She tightly clasped her father’s hand and burst into tears.
“Don’t go, father, please!” begged Adrina, “I love you!”
King Andrew brushed the tears from her eyes and held her hand. “Don’t be frightened, my child,” he spoke weakly, “it will be fine, just fine.”
Andrew bit back the pain that was welling up inside him. He coughed and spit blood onto the pillow beside him. Father Francis jumped to his sire’s side, attempting to push Adrina away, so he could continue the healing rights.
“No, please, no!” screamed Adrina.
“She will stay,” said Andrew in a voice that was scarcely audible.
Father Francis released Adrina and she raced back to her father’s side.
“Stay with me!” whispered Adrina, turning Andrew’s words back around.
A sparkle touched his eyes as he took her hand again. “Send word to Valam to return at once,” he said, pulling her close to him as he whispered in her ear, “I love you, my daughter, you are my pride and Valam and Calyin, my joy. I go now to her. She’s waited so long.”
Andrew’s voice faded off as he spoke, the pain becoming too much for him. He squeezed Adrina’s hand tightly and then sighed a gasp of relief, holding his composure even at the end.
The priests started to chant loudly, wild in their requests to the Father to spare their monarch’s life. Father Francis even offered his own life in place of Andrew’s, but the Father would not accept his offer. Sadly the chants shifted from pleas to the cry for the dead, a song of mourning.
King Andrew’s last words to Adrina had been words of love for his kingdom and his family. Adrina was swept with tears. She cried out to the Great Father, but received no answer. Attempting to soothe her, Father Francis embraced her. Adrina ran away screaming as he touched her. She ran until she came to her room, where she slammed and bolted the door.