The Dragon Queen

Four: Prince George

Four

Prince George

“What did you do to her?” Lancelot asked for the millionth time.

I had already recounted the story of the maze multiple times, and he seemed to delight in hearing it. “I fingered her in the maze,” I replied casually.

We were on our way to The Witch Doctor. The Witch Doctor lived in the forest surrounding Vincia and refused to meet us in the palace. Even though my father had tried his hardest to. The forest was technically not part of Vincian rule, and what happened there, stayed there. The Witch Doctor was more powerful around nature, and I suspected safety was the real reason that he didn’t want to go the palace.

Witches weren’t very trusting of humans. Though we used magic ourselves, it was mostly in ways that we could control. We didn’t actively seek it out unless we absolutely had to. Magic that came from witches wasn’t the same sort of magic as fairy’s or pixie magic. That magic was given to them.

Witch magic was taken from the world around them. From the magic of dead things. It made their magic wild, and unpredictable.

“And she let you?” Lancelot seemed most surprised by the last part.

“Why wouldn’t she?” I asked, a little annoyed that he thought that Ashden wouldn’t want me.

Lancelot patted me on the shoulder. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, my dear Prince. I’m not saying that you couldn’t make her quiver with anticipation. I’m only surprised in her. She’s a waif of a girl, a little mouse.”

“And you’re the Tom Cat that would like to play with her?” I asked.

He smirked. “Yes, please.”

“Not until I have an heir,” I said, “well, maybe a little. She knows about us. She didn’t seem opposed to the idea, though a little confused.”

“Does she? Well, she’s a lot cleverer than I give her credit for. She’s like Snow White, lost in the woods. Doesn’t know what a bad idea it is to stumble into a house full of seven, little men.”

“Maybe they were gay,” I suggested.

He smirked. “Probably.”

“We need to give her a distraction.”

“I’ll happily oblige,” Lancelot offered, showing off his white teeth with a too wide smile that I knew meant trouble.

“Not you,” I said, “with that guard there, I’m worried that she’ll get close to him and forget all about me. I don’t need something standing in my way. She needs a friend. A lady-in-waiting.”

Landon snorted. “Are you serious? The concept hasn’t existed since the eighteen hundreds.”

I nodded. “I’m perfectly serious. The Royal Household still has room in the budget for one, we’ve just never used it. Mother has her maids, and she’s perfectly capable of making friends. I think if she has a friend, we’ll be able to keep her less distracted.”

Landon laughed. “What if she falls in love with the girl?”

I snorted. “Please. She’s around Anu all of the time, and she’s never once checked her out.”

“She might like small, delicate girls like herself.”

“Anu is everyone’s type,” I commented.

“Point taken,” he said.

We had the three dragon’s eggs in a golden chest that were on my lap. I could hear the heartbeats, ba-da bum, ba da bum. A constant reminder of the lies that my family had fed Ashden over the years. I couldn’t imagine what she would do if she found out the truth.

The dragons were part of the Continuarians. They’re where they got their power from. Without it, they were humans, just like us. When a dragon was killed, it was like having a limb ripped off.

If she knew the truth of everything, she would hate me.

We had killed their dragons. Destroyed their eggs. And then, for good measure, we had taken her for a war prize. A way to keep them in place. It had worked for nearly eighteen years. But at any moment, they could decide that they were no longer going to play nice. That they were going to destroy everything.

I wouldn’t blame them a single bit, even though we had done it to protect ourselves. But all I wanted was to keep Ashden safe. Doing that meant making certain that she didn’t find out anything about Vincia’s past, or about her own country. I couldn’t have her getting close to handsome guards from her homeland.

I would do whatever it took to keep her distracted. Give her friends, give her jewelry, give her the world for it if she asked.

The large, black, SUV that we were in rambled down the road. Though Lance was my guard, we had brought one of the other guardsmen for good measure. Going into the forest was a dangerous place to be. It was home to the witches, the fae, the giants, the ogres….any good number of creatures that could have destroyed us.

“Do you think The Witch Doctor will even be able to tell anything?” Lancelot asked. “I, personally, think they’re all charlatans.”

“You would, and that’s because you haven’t spent much time around magic. Witch Doctors know things other witches don’t. Other people don’t, even. They take their power from other witches, and they’re dangerous but they can also sense magic because they’re often addicted to it.”

“And what’s this man’s name again?”

“If he has one, we’re not the sort of people he’d let know it. You know how magic works. Magic means power in this world.”

Lancelot laughs. “If they’re so f*****g powerful, why haven’t they kicked us out of power yet?  Rather than live in the woods, like heathens?”

“Because, we’ve a different sort of power,” I explained.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Money,” I replied with a smirk.

From the drivers seat, our guard, Winifred “Freddie” Whitmore, says, “We’re almost there, your highness!”

“Thanks, Freddie,” I said.

She smiled at me through the rearview mirror. Freddie is a small, curvy Latina curl with brown eyes, pale skin, and jet-black hair. Her Mother was from Columbia, and her father was one of our Knights. Sir Whitmore had fallen in love with Freddie’s mother when we’d been making negations for the exporting of Chupacabras.

When reached The Witch Doctor’s home, I was surprised by what I saw. It was the ruins of an ancient plantation, done in the Grecian style, with a porch held up by Greek pillars. It had long since lost its majesty. The moss colored roof was sagging, the white paint was chipped and faded, and the front door was hanging off of its hinges.

But standing there on the porch, waiting for us, was The Witch Doctor. He was a tall, skinny black man who reminded me of a willow tree. His hair was long, and curled, and he had a thin mustache that he stroked with his long fingers. He wore a long, black robe, had a golden cane, and a top hat on his head.

“Alright,” said Lancelot, “time to go to visit Screamin’ Jay Hawkins.”

“Be nice,” I chided, “he might just put a spell on you.”

I got out of the car and carried the golden chest that held the eggs with me. Lancelot walked beside me, with Freddie walking up ahead to keep us safe.

“Your father was most….insistent. I’ll be the first to tell you, I don’t like royals up in my business. If my regulars see you, they’ll run. So, this will be a quick job. No more than an hour, anymore after that and my rate doubles. Now, do you have what I f*****g asked for?”

Lancelot grinned, and pulled out a little, clear potion bottle that had gold, glittering pixie dust inside. “Should get you through the year.”

The Witch Doctor made a grab for it.

Lancelot jerked it back. “Nah-uh. You get paid after we get answers, and not before.”

The Witch Doctor placed a hand on his hips. “Fine. Follow me. Careful of the crocodile.”

Lancelot and I exchanged glances but said nothing as we followed The Witch Doctor inside. Inside, it smelled like swamp, and age, and decay. But there was also something else. A fission of energy that I had felt enough times in my life to know what it was.

Magic.

“How is that delightful, young fiancé of yours, Princeling?” The Witch Doctor asked as he walked ahead of us. “I saw the picture in the paper of you two kissing at the treaty renewal. Rumor has it that she kissed you first, although you yourself are no stranger to primal desire. That one…. she’ll be a force to be reckoned with, to be sure.”

I frowned. “She’s perfectly fine. But we aren’t here to talk about The Crown Princess of Continuar, and I’d prefer if we kept to the topic at hand.”

The Witch Doctor twirled around, his eyes blazing red. “You know who and what I am, Princeling. There are no games, no secrets in these walls. Spirits talk. You might have rewritten the books, and destroyed the others, but we know what you did. What your family did. So don’t pretend this doesn’t have anything to do with The Little Princess, because it has everything.” He pointed a finger at me.

I noticed, for the first time, that his fingernails were long, painted black, and so pointed they could have been used as  weapons.

I glanced down at the chest of dragon’s eggs in my hand. They couldn’t have anything to do with Ashden. Could they?”

The Witch Doctor smiled, the sickeningly sweet kind, the one where you weren’t certain if he was happy for you, being polite, or plotting your death. I was fairly certain it was all three.

“The dragons eggs…you think they have something to do with her?”

The Witch Doctor smirked. “I don’t think. I know. Come along. No more questions until we’re in The Summoning Room.”

We walked up the long, winding staircase of the plantation house.

“Why on earth do you live here?” Lancelot asked.

The Witch Doctor chuckled. “Do know how much power comes from ghosts? Lots. This house is full of f*****g bad juju. I dance on its bones and use it to power my s**t. The fact that I get excellent wi-fi and live rent free is the least this f*****g place can do after what it’s ancestors did to my people.”

“Why not decorate?”

He chuckled again. “To keep fuckers like you from visiting. Also, the house appears how I want it to appear. You’re not welcomed. Therefore, it appears unwelcoming.”

Curious, I asked, “How would it appear if Ashden were here?”

He glanced over his shoulder at me, tilting his head to the side. “For her, I’d put the crocodile away. Not something I do for just anyone and having to deal with a crocodile is the very, last thing that sweet child needs. Just like the very, last thing she needs in her life is you.”

I wanted to tell them that he was being too forward, but I could barely get the words out. He was right.

We made our way down a dark, narrow hall. With a wave of his hand, the door we were standing by pushed open. Inside, were herbs, pickled things, and flowers lining crooked shelves. There was a cauldron off to the left-hand side, by the closed window, and in the center was a table with a purple, velvet tablecloth.

“Place the chest there,” he ordered.

I put it on the table. He walked around, muttering to himself, then after a moment he opened it. Inside, were three, golden eggs. His fingers hovered over each of them before making the choice to pick up the one on the right.

He picked up the one in the middle, cradling it gently in his hands. He caressed it softly, and whispered to it, in a language that I couldn’t understand. The dragons egg seemed to rattle as he talked to it. “Yes, precious…. yes…. oh, I see. Thank you for that information, little one. Go back to sleep now. The world’s not ready for you yet.” The Witch Doctor gently placed the golden egg back in the chest.

Then he looked up at me. “Give the girl the eggs.”

“What?!” Lancelot and I exclaimed together.

“Give the girl the eggs, or else destruction will befall you. Do you realize what these eggs mean, boys?”

“I don’t understand,” I said, “they’re just eggs.”

“Eggs come from somewhere. What do you know of the Continuar?” he asked.

“Their dragons are part of them. They gave them their power. But we…. we killed them.”

“Ha!” he laughed, throwing his head back. “That’s a nice, little myth you’ve told yourselves. Good on them, for letting you think that.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

“They are the dragons. When a Continuar come of age, the universe gifts them with a dragon. And that dragon latches onto them, becoming part of their being. If you haven’t seen a dragon in years, it’s because they didn’t want you to. Dragons are shapeshifters. Tricksters. They show you whatever you want to see, whatever makes you comfortable. You believe your Little Princess is exactly that, because she wants you to see that. Of course, she probably hasn’t even seen her true form yet but once it gets awakened…. I suggest you run.”

I stared at him. I thought of Ashden, with her cupids bow lips, her blond hair, and her eyes that were brown but sparkled in the sun like amber. “It can’t be true.”

“Believe what you want. She’s not a Princess. She’s a monster, waiting to be unleashed, to destroy. When she discovers what she truly is, I suspect the first thing that she’ll eat is you.”

“But the eggs…where did they come from?” I asked. “Is there another dragon here?”

The Witch Doctor smiled, the slow and nasty kind. “That’s not what you paid me to tell you. And the fact that you’re asking me that tells me you aren’t listening very hard. Now, I suggest you run along, and make certain that those get to Ashden. If they don’t, your Little Princess will die.”

“What do you mean?”

“A Continuar can only exist so long without it’s dragon. If they do not find the right one, they will die.”  

“Is she a dragon or isn’t she?” I yelled, confused by the nonsense that the man was spewing.

“Give her the eggs, boys. That’s the only thing you need to worry about. Now, get out of my motherfucking house.”

With a snap of his fingers, he took the pixie dust, and then vanished into thin air. Lancelot scowled. “f*****g magic.”

I glanced down at the eggs. I now had a picture of the girl I loved with fangs, and claws, completely covered in scales.

“Do you think it’s true?” I asked, glancing at Lancelot. “That she’s a dragon?”

Lancelot shrugged. “f**k if I know, but you know what this means?”

“What?”

“Anu’s actually going to get to kill something! Think maybe she’ll lighten up after that? I kind of want to see if I can f**k her.”

I said nothing but picked up the chest of dragon’s eggs and closed it shut. “Come on,” I said, “let’s go.”

It couldn’t be true. The girl that I was in love with…that I’d waited my whole life to be with…she couldn’t be a dragon. A monster. I’d spent my whole life training to kill them. My family had been built on killing them.

If she was a dragon, that meant that I would have to kill her. I had never thought I cared for her. Not in a romantic way. But now the thought of her dead, at my hand, because it would be mine and no one else’s….

It left me with an ache in my heart. One I wasn’t sure I would ever recover from.