Arc 3, Chapter 41: Dragon Knight - Mercer House

  The Mercer kitchen filled the lower floor of the main house’s eastern wing. Heat from the hearths rolled across the flagstones. Six cooks moved through candlelight, their cleavers and knives keeping a steady rhythm against the preparation tables. Steam spiraled from the hearths and swirled toward the stone arches of the ceiling, carrying the scent of rosemary and rendered fat.

  Angelica’s knife clicked on the marble counter beside the hearth as she sliced oranges into thin rounds. The bright disks slipped from the blade and flashed in the candlelight before landing on a waiting cloth. The heat from the fires warmed her skin, and pots simmered within arm’s reach. Pans hissed when the head cook tipped fat into them and gestured to one of the younger maids. The girl hurried over with a clay jar of spices. Her weathered silver apron bore a crest of two coiled dragons at the shoulder.

  Another maid crossed behind Angelica, carrying polished silver platters toward the wash trough. Water splashed in the wooden basin where another girl scrubbed dishes, her hands moving through the stack without pause.

  Angelica's thoughts drifted to her brother as her thumb dug into the peel of another orange.

  *Rafe’s eyes were dull these past few days. He barely touched his food before he disappeared upstairs. Lady Boudica is pushing them too hard.*

  The kitchen went silent.

  The woman stepped through the archway. Weathered silver plates rested on her shoulders, secured by leather straps the color of stagnant moss. Two dragons coiled across her breastplate, their silver bodies pitted and scarred. Strands of wet black hair clung to her neck. Her skin looked almost translucent, pulled tight over the sharp ridges of her cheekbones and jaw.

  Three rings occupied the fingers of her right hand. The first held a stone the color of a dried scab. The second was a flat, rainy gray. The last looked like a piece of forest rot.

  Her eyes were solid white, opaque bone from corner to corner.

  The woman stood motionless. A dark haze detached from her frame and spilled across the stones. It crawled along the floor like smoke, coiling around table legs and swallowing the light. The vapor surged through the kitchen until it buried Angelica's feet and spread toward the others in a lightless gloom.

  Angelica stared at her boots as the shadow engulfed them. A freezing chill bit into her ankles, the cold sinking through the leather of her soles. The heat from the hearths remained in the air, yet her feet were trapped in a frozen void.

  The chopping stopped. A blade slipped from a cook’s trembling hand and clattered on the stone floor. The head cook stood over his pot, ladle frozen mid lift.

  

  "Helia." The name slipped out before she could stop it.

  “My lady.” A grin broke across Angelica’s face as she set her knife down. The blade clinked against the marble. She hurried toward the archway, her legs cutting through the smoke on the floor, the shadows coiling around her shins.

  Angelica reached the archway and collided with Helia, her arms wrapping tight around the silver armor. The frozen metal leached warmth from her palms, yet she gripped the plates and held fast.

  “You’re back.” She drew away just enough to see Helia’s face. “I was worried about you. Have you eaten anything today?”

  Helia reached out and caught Angelica’s hand. Her fingers felt like frozen iron against Angelica's palm. "I'm starving, Angelica."

  The bone white in her eyes shifted. A speck of forest green appeared at the center of the white, then flooded outward in a jagged pulse until her irises and pupils returned.

  "Could you bring something to my chambers?" A smile lifted the corners of Helia’s mouth.

  The heavy smoke along the floor coiled and drew back. Shadows slid off the marble, slipping away from the preparation tables and the staff’s feet until the haze vanished into Helia’s boots.

  "Of course, my lady. I'll bring it up right away." Angelica pressed her hand into Helia’s palm before pulling away.

  She lowered her eyes to the center of the breastplate, focusing on the twin dragons coiled in the weathered silver.

  "Hello, Fulgora." Angelica waved her hand while leaning closer to the metal. "You'll get a feast of your own."

  The silver plates began to shiver against Helia's torso. A deep hum resonated from the metal as the carvings seemed to shift their weight within the silver. The vibration rolled through the air and rattled the kitchen’s hanging pans and ladles.

  "Welcome back, my lady," the head cook's voice murmured behind Angelica. She half turned, just in time to see him dip his head toward the floor. The younger maids mirrored the gesture, fixing their eyes on the gray flagstones.

  Angelica watched them. Their hands trembled against their aprons. She drew a breath to speak, but Helia's gauntleted hand settled on her wrist.

  "They're right," Helia whispered. She stood frozen for several long heartbeats. Then her chest rose. She let the air out in a steady rush, and the force of her breath ruffled the steam lingering near the archway. She pivoted toward the corridor and walked into the dark. Her boots made no sound against the flagstones. The shadows swallowed the weathered silver of her armor until she disappeared.

  The head cook reached for his ladle. His fingers shook as he gripped the handle. The younger maids stayed by the wash trough with their eyes fixed on the floor. The heat from the hearths began to return to the kitchen.

  —

  Forty minutes passed.

  Angelica stood outside Helia's chambers beside a wooden cart. Heat seeped from the edges of three silver lids, and the rising steam dampened the front of her apron. She balanced a clay bowl in her left hand.

  Thick bean stew filled the dish, and the scent of garlic rose from the warm broth. A wedge of flatbread rested on the rim, already soaking up a golden sheen of olive oil. She lifted her right hand and knocked twice on the heavy door.

  The heavy door swung inward. Helia stepped back into the dim to clear the way. She wore an ashen velvet gown. The fitted bodice hugged her ribs. A line of charcoal fasteners ran from her waist to the base of her neck. Heavy sleeves draped over her wrists and gathered in deep folds around her hands. When she moved, the long skirt brushed the stone floor with a soft hiss.

  Angelica pushed the cart over the threshold, the wheels rumbling across the floor. As she entered, her gaze swept the circular chamber. A heavy bed frame sat against the far wall, the mattress pressed close to the stone beside the balcony doors. Moonlight leaked through the panes and pooled on the rug. Along the left wall, sconces cast a flickering orange light over a dresser and the family sketches pinned above the mirror. On the right, a second door led deeper into the suite.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  An oak table sat in the center of the room, with one chair facing the dresser. Guiding the cart toward the table, Angelica reached for the tray. "I brought your favorite." She lifted the clay bowl and carried it to the table. "Bean stew with extra garlic, just how you asked for it last time."

  Angelica set the bowl onto the table's scarred grain. The flatbread shifted against the rim, its edges deepening in color as it drank the olive oil. "I made sure it stayed hot for you," she said, her fingers lingering on the warm clay. She pulled the chair back from the table and stood beside it.

  Helia stood at the cart. The three covered dishes sat before her, steam escaping from beneath the silver lids. Her lips parted. "Fulgora. Eat."

  Three plumes of black smoke seeped through the skin of her hands and chest, rising in shreds into the air. Each one snapped to a silver lid. The smoke braided into thick strands as it wrapped around the metal. The murk thickened until the stoneware and lids vanished within a lightless cloud. Then the shadows snapped back into her pores. Only the bare wood of the cart remained.

  Angelica smiled. "She must have been starving."

  Helia crossed to the table and lowered herself into the chair. "Thank you, Angelica."

  "The road has left its grit in your hair," Angelica said. She ran her hand down a heavy lock, her palm catching on a thick mat of salt and sweat. "Start on your stew. I will get these knots out." Angelica crossed to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. She retrieved a wooden brush from among the pins and combs, then returned to the table.

  Angelica gathered Helia's damp black hair into her grip and drew its weight over the back of the chair. The brush dragged through Helia's hair in steady pulls. Starting at the ends and working up to the roots, Angelica picked at the tangles until they gave way.

  The bowl of stew remained untouched on the table before Helia. Steam curled from the surface, carrying the smell of garlic through the chamber.

  "You should eat while it's warm." Angelica kept brushing. "The bread is getting soft."

  The wooden bristles scraped through the last of the tangles as Angelica moved to a fresh section of damp hair. She drew the black strands over Helia’s shoulder, the weight of the wet locks tugging at her fingers.

  Below her, Helia reached for the silver spoon and sank it into the garlic-scented broth. She lifted a full spoonful to the rim. Thick drops spilled over the edge and broke the surface as she held the metal still. She lowered the spoon back into the bowl. Her thumb and forefinger rolled the handle in a tight circle.

  "Angelica," Helia murmured. The word came out on a breath that turned white the instant it left her lips.

  Angelica stopped the brush mid-stroke. "Yes, my lady?"

  "Would you mind helping me prepare the guest chamber?" Helia said.

  Angelica smoothed the strands with her palm. The damp hair felt icy against her skin, and the chill seeped into her fingers as she drew the brush through the length. "You know I will. Who are we expecting?"

  "Anna." Helia’s voice was so soft it barely stirred the steam rising from the bowl.

  Angelica's hand tightened on the brush. A grin spread across her face. "Anna? Is she coming here? It's been so long since her last visit!"

  "But the border assignment—I thought the king stationed her there for the season." Angelica's brow furrowed.

  "She said she'll arrive at the end of the month." Helia's palm pressed against the side of the clay bowl. Frost bloomed from her fingertips and raced in a cold ring around the rim. The ice choked the rising steam and webbed over the broth. The layer hardened until the stew sat motionless beneath a white skin.

  "Her brother finishes his deployment soon." Helia's fingers traced the frost spreading across the rim of the bowl. "She wants to be in the capital when he arrives."

  "And she'll come here?" Angelica said.

  "A few days. She'll ride from the capital to visit us." Helia sat motionless. "Then she returns to her post."

  Angelica's hand went still. The wooden brush slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor. She moved around the chair and caught Helia's face in both hands, pressing her palms to Helia's cheeks. The skin was so cold it stung. Angelica turned her until they were face-to-face. The green in Helia's irises was gone. White filled her eyes, opaque bone from corner to corner.

  "Helia," Angelica said. "What is wrong?"

  "The border situation is worsening. Anna should have sent word two days ago when she arrived." A plume of freezing mist puffed from Helia’s lips and hit Angelica’s face. The chill made the skin on her forehead ache.

  Angelica’s hands dropped from Helia’s frozen cheeks. She straightened and stepped away from the chair, putting space between them and the frost spreading across the tabletop. "She probably got delayed settling in. You know how it is with a new post."

  "I asked my father for leave to reach the border." Helia's head dipped, her chin sinking toward her chest. "He refused."

  The dark vanished from her hair as frost surged from the roots. Rime raced to the tips, leaving the strands frozen white. A veil of pale vapor spilled from the frozen hair and drifted over her shoulders. The mist rolled across the oak table and reached the nearest candle flame. The orange light shrank and sputtered as cold crept toward the wick.

  Angelica moved back to the dresser and slid the drawer open. She retrieved a pair of heavy wool gloves from the corner. "Anna is one of the summoned heroes," she said, working her hands into the fabric. She snugged the cuffs against her wrists and turned back toward the table. "She has survived far worse than a hard post at the border."

  "Tomorrow we'll go to the market." Angelica's breath came out in a thick white cloud as she spoke. "We'll get fresh linens for her room."

  She crossed the freezing distance and gripped Helia's forearms to guide her up from the chair. As Helia rose, a wash of frigid air poured off her skin and struck Angelica full in the chest. Loose strands of her hair lifted and drifted across her cheeks. Angelica glanced at the empty chair behind Helia.

  A layer of rime covered the backrest and the seat. The ice hid the wood grain under a frozen mask. "Maybe those honey cakes from the baker near the fountain. The ones Anna loved last time."

  Helia's mouth softened. The smallest lift touched the corners of her lips, and Angelica caught it like a candle flame in a draft. "You need the night air to clear your head. Come," Angelica said as she steered Helia toward the balcony door.

  —

  Angelica nudged the door, and the glass panes swung wide. She guided Helia out onto the stone platform. The air met Angelica's face, fresh compared to the stale frost of the room.

  Above, the dark was peppered with thousands of tiny white specks that burned overhead. Angelica tilted her head back until her neck ached. The vast sky stretched across the horizon.

  *Please be safe, Anna.*

  A heavy boom rattled the stone. The vibration climbed through Angelica's boots as the balcony shuddered under a sudden weight behind her. She spun.

  A man crouched on the balcony stones near the balustrade, one hand braced against the railing as he steadied himself. Moonlight caught the weathered silver of his armor and the twin dragons carved into his breastplate.

  Angelica's palm flew to her mouth. A sharp gasp snagged in her throat before she found her voice. "Rafe!"

  Rafe tilted his head, a wide grin cutting across his face. "Evening, little sister."

  "Rafe, stop doing this!" Angelica's voice cracked in the cool air. She pressed a hand to her chest, her pulse thudding under her palm. "You arrive like that every single time. My heart nearly stopped."

  "Grow up. You should be used to it by now." Rafe straightened from his crouch and stepped away from the balustrade. He struck his gauntlets together with a few sharp slaps that knocked grit from the metal.

  Angelica's brow pinched into a frown. She drew a lungful of fresh air and blew it out in a hard breath. "How did you even know I was out here?"

  "I smelled that rose soap of yours from a hundred feet up," Rafe said as he lifted a finger and pointed into the black sky above the balcony. "Sylvan nearly emptied his stomach." He winked, his grin widening.

  Angelica stuck out her tongue at him. Then she tipped her chin toward the stars. "Hello, Sylvan."

  The night directly above the railing rippled. For a heartbeat, deep moss green scales appeared in the moonlight. A long tapering tail flickered into view, then the camouflage slid back into place. The hide vanished, leaving only a faint distortion in the starlight where the dragon hovered.

  Rafe stepped past Angelica, his armor clattering as he crossed the stones.

  "Hello, Rafe," Helia said, and lifted a brief hand in greeting.

  Angelica watched as Rafe reached out and caught a lock of Helia's hair. The white strands looked like frozen silk against his bare fingers. "You look like one of the palace statues," he said. "All ice and no color."

  Rafe set his palm on the top of Helia's head. "Good to see you, little lady," he said.

  His fingers spread through the white strands as he leaned in. He got close enough that Angelica could see his breath fog between them, and his eyes swept over Helia's unblinking white gaze. "White suits you better than green anyway."

  Helia tilted her head slightly. "Isn't it too early to collect Angelica?"

  Rafe straightened and stepped back from Helia.

  "I told you I'd be finished in an hour." Angelica crossed her arms.

  "Our scouts at the border arrived twenty minutes ago."

  Rafe turned toward Helia. "Helia." He paused, drew a breath, and then spoke again. "Anna disappeared from the imperial camp. She was there, then she was gone before the company moved to the border."