Page 16 of Bride of the Black Dragon
“So you got it?” Henri asks, his eyes trained on Dorian’s clenched fist.
“Of course! Took it from her jewelry box—right out from under her nose. She never suspected a thing.”
Dorian opens his fist and shows something that makes me clap a hand over my mouth. The Queen’s ruby pendant is cupped in his palm! The same one she wore the first day I came to Court. It matches her favorite gown—it’s her favorite piece of jewelry and no wonder—the ruby is pure, blood red and as big as my thumb.
She’s definitely going to miss it. What can Dorian be thinking?
“You have a buyer for it?” Henri asks.
The Crown Prince nods.
“A jewel merchant from the East. He’s coming to the Citadel on Friday next. Until then, I’ll keep it in my own jewel box—not even the servants can get to it because, as you know, I have the only key.” He makes a face. “That will teach Her Majesty to cut my allowance, just because I didn’t want to bed the nasty little freak she made me marry.”
“But won’t you get into trouble? What will the Queen say when she finds it gone?” Henri asks anxiously.
Dorian shrugs—a careless gesture.
“Let the servants take the blame. It’s of little consequence.”
They have more to say but they’ve reached his rooms now and pushed their way inside, closing the door behind them.
I stand there for a moment…should I say something? I don’t want anyone getting punished…but would the Queen believe me, if I told? Dorian is her favorite—I doubt she’d look kindly on me for tattling on him.
I try to put the whole matter out of my head. I know it’s cowardly of me, but I can’t go talk to the Queen right now. She’ll no doubt want details of the night I spent with Xaren. And as I said before, I’m not a very good liar.
For now, I’m going to go take my morning ride on Mirabella and try not to think about what might happen when the Queen finds her ruby pendant missing.
11
ELAINA
Mirabella is placid to the point of sleepiness as the groom leads her to the mounting block so I can get astride her back. I’m meant to be riding side-saddle—all the proper ladies in Court do. I tried to copy them when I first came to the Citadel but I kept slipping off. Besides, it’s so uncomfortable. I finally gave in and asked for a “man’s saddle” which the grooms grudgingly provided.
“So, my Lady—I hear you got quite an eyeful here the other day.”
“Excuse me?” I look down from my horse’s back to see the groom is talking to me. He’s a pale, thin man with dirty blonde hair. I think his name is “Grims.”
“I heard-tell you seen something you didn’t ought to have seen,” he says, giving me a twisted smile that doesn’t reach his watery eyes.
“I…don’t know what you mean.” I wish he would let go of Mirabella’s reigns. He’s making me uncomfortable. I keep thinking of Tanzy’s story about the hapless milkmaid. I can’t help noticing we’re the only two people around, despite the size of the stable and its numerous staff. Where is everyone else?
“Oh, I think you know what I mean, my Lady.” Grims winks knowingly. “And I got a message for you—don’t go blabbing or there’s going to be trouble.”
“I don’t kn—” I begin but then he slaps Mirabella on the rump—hard—and lets loose of the reigns.
My normally calm and quiet mount suddenly goes crazy.
Bucking and snorting, she takes off at dead gallop—a pace I’ve never tried before. I give a breathless scream and grab onto her mane. I have no hope of controlling her because the reigns are flapping free and I can’t reach them. Thank goodness I have my feet in the stirrups—it’s the only thing keeping me in the saddle.
“Whoa! Whoa, girl!” I shout, but it’s no use—Mirabella is acting like a possessed creature, careening through the Royal paddock and into the riding lane beyond and I’m apparently just along for the ride.
Then I see it from the corner of my eye…a black stallion on the far side of the lanes. The figure sitting on it is tall with impossibly broad shoulders—I know who it must be. But my brain barely registers the fact because I’m too busy hanging on for dear life and trying not to get bucked off.
The stallion turns and gallops towards me, jumping gracefully over the high fences separating the lanes. The next minute, Xaren is riding right alongside me. He holds the reigns of his own mount in one hand and reaches with one long arm to catch the dangling reigns of mine.
“Whoa!” he shouts and there’s a tone of command in his voice that’s impossible to ignore. I see Mirabella’s ears—which have been laid flat back against her skull—twitch. Then, as Xaren pulls on her reigns, she comes to a shivering, stumbling stop. His stallion, Death, pulls up with a snort beside her.
Xaren’s out of his saddle in an instant and pulling me out of mine. I fall into his arms and wrap my arms around his neck. I forget how scary he was last night—right now he seems like the only safe thing to cling to. I bury my face in his cloud of midnight hair and try to breathe. I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel him rubbing my back and murmuring,
