The Dragons of Ethenia

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. As far as we knew, they died out over a thousand years ago and had never migrated past the mountains to the East. They say one act, no matter how unimportant it seems, can alter the course of many lives. I never understood the saying fully until one year ago, when my choices brought the dragons back.

One Year Ago

I am ordinary, plain even. Aside from being the middle daughter of a minor lord in the kingdom of Ethenia. I have no exceptional talent for music like my elder sister Ianthe. Her voice and skill with the lute have charmed lords well above her station. Her long auburn hair, slender build, and striking green eyes help too. She is a month shy of her twentieth birthday and has already received offers of marriage from House Harrington, House Allain, and House De Luca.

I am not skilled with a blade or bow like my younger brother Reyd. He’s not yet reached his thirteenth year, and yet he is as accomplished an archer as Sir Connolly, a commander in my father’s small army. They say he will be the youngest general our kingdom has ever seen. Some say they may lower the age of eligibility to fifteen, just for him. If mother allows it.

I am completely and utterly normal. I can pass through the halls of Riverfoot with no more fanfare than a simple “my lady” from an attentive servant. Most tend not to notice my presence, being too engulfed in their work to pay any mind to the second Sutton child.

My mother named me Marigold, though most everyone calls me Mari, because I was born during a thunderstorm. She always said the prettiest flowers bloom after a storm. I found that sentiment hard to believe as my handmaiden, Cora, struggled to tame my often unmanageable, fine, brown hair. Most mornings I would rise with strands sticking every which way. Cora would laugh and call it her “daily challenge”. Usually she was satisfied with a simple plait down my back. Today, however, is my eighteenth birthday, so it requires a more elaborate style.

“Happiest of days to you my lady,” Cora said as she continued twisting and pinning my hair.

“Thank you, Cora,” I replied, trying to sound excited.

In Ethenia, when a girl turns eighteen there is a lavish ball to introduce her to potential suitors. They require her to dance with each lord in attendance hoping to secure a future husband, though the marriage ceremony doesn’t happen until her twentieth birthday. It is also the time when a youth chooses their talent. All children, boys and girls, are educated in the arts, history, weaponry and other subjects until our eighteenth year. By then we should have found a talent that speaks to us. For Ianthe, it was music. For Reyd it will be weaponry. I am still unsure.

Cora could hear the trepidation in my voice.

“You’ve nothing to worry about, my lady,” she said. “Lots of people didn’t know their talent at eighteen. It’s simply a choosing. You can always continue to study other talents. Who knows, my lady, perhaps you are one of The Gifted?"

The Gifted are a mysterious group of mages who operate outside of the laws of Ethenia. Once in almost every family, a youth on their eighteenth birthday would be chosen by The Gifted to study the ancient art of magic. These youths often displayed powerful magical ability at a young age, so it was always no surprise to the family when their child would be taken.

“If I had magical talents, do you think I’d still have a tangled mess atop my head?” I asked.

“I suppose not, my lady,” she said. “Perhaps history then. You’ve always enjoyed the grand tales of adventure…”

Cora rambled on about the various talents I could choose. I loved Cora, but she tended toward babbling. I let my mind wander and tried to picture the dance steps to the waltz I would have to perform at least ten times tonight.

“Finished, my lady. And if I may say so, you look lovely.”

Cora handed me a small hand mirror so I could see my reflection. She was right; I did look lovely. She had worked my tangled mess into something beautiful. She had curled it and twisted it around the side of my head, letting the loose curls flow down over my right shoulder. Along the twist, she had pinned in small white flowers and pearls.

“Thank you, Cora. It’s beautiful.”

“You look every bit as beautiful as Ianthe did on her eighteenth birthday,” she said, “You will no doubt have as many suitors.”

I found that hard to believe. Somehow, it was difficult to see myself charming the sons of any noble house. Instead, I imagined myself stepping on their toes, spilling my first glass of wine, or going about the evening with a piece of meat stuck between my teeth.

“Let’s get you dressed m’lady,” Cora said, annoyed that I hadn’t responded to her compliment, “You lady mother will want to see you before your Choosing.”

My mother had the local seamstress make me a gown just for this occasion. The underskirt was gold with a swirling blue pattern, and the corset top a deep blue with gold lacing in the front with long sides that left only a fraction of the gold underskirt visible. Cora tugged my corset strings tighter than I was used to, but under the gown, it gave me a fair amount of cleavage without being too immodest. I allowed myself a quick twirl and reveled in how the gold seemed to glitter in the sunlight beaming through my windows. In this gown, with my hair pinned and a light amount of makeup, I looked royal. Gone was the awkward youth tripping over her own feet. Standing in the mirror was a woman I barely recognized. I saw my mother enter my chambers in the mirror's reflection. I turned around to gage her approval.

My mother, Isla, was a striking woman. Even after having three children, she maintained her slender frame. Her skin was the color of honey, which complimented her light auburn hair that she always wore flowing around her shoulders. Her deep green eyes could melt your heart or paralyze you with fear from just a look. She commanded every room she entered.

Her parents almost disowned her for marrying my father. Mother had suitors from some of the highest lords in Ethenia, yet she chose to marry my father for love rather than station. She told Ianthe the story of how she met father on her eighteenth birthday, just as I knew she would tell me now.

“You look stunning Marigold.” Mother was the only one who insisted on using my full name.

“Thank you, Mother.”

“That will be all, Cora, thank you,” Mother said dismissing her.

Cora gave me a quick squeeze on my shoulder, her silent way of wishing me luck, gave mother a small curtsey, and took her leave.

“Come sit with me, my dear.” Mother moved to sit on the edge of my bed. I silently praised the gods that I made it this morning.

“Are you prepared for your Choosing?” Mother asked.

“As best I can be,” I replied dutifully. I refrained from telling her I had no idea what I was doing, though I expect she knew.

“Tonight, at the ball, you will in all likelihood meet your future husband. In the short time before your Choosing, I want to impart on you some advice my mother never gave me.”

I had only met my grandmother twice, and, in truth, she frightened me. She was strict and callous, quick with criticism and maintained a pained expression at all times, as if there were an offensive odor in the room. Reyd and I once bet our evening dessert on who could make her smile or laugh. Neither of us won, but the competition itself made her visit more bearable.

My mother continued, “I met your father on my eighteenth birthday. I had been dancing with the sons of esteemed lords from all over Ethenia all evening. I was exhausted and frankly in a sour mood. Your father was the last son I was to dance with, being that his father was of the lowest station. Rather than leading me to the dance floor, he asked if I’d rather take a walk in the gardens. He said he understood that the night was overwhelming and that he would much prefer the fresh air to dancing in front of uptight nobles.”

My mother smiled at the memory. It was clear to all of us in Riverfoot that my parents were truly in love with each other. When father was free of his duties for the day, he and mother would often walk through the gardens holding hands or steal a kiss under the large willow tree. Ianthe and I would often talk of their romance and dream about the handsome, young lord who would sweep us off our feet.

“While we walked in the garden, he asked me about my Choosing, my dreams and my ideal family. I shared things with him in that short time that I had never dreamt of sharing with anyone. No other man took an interest in me like your father. The rest cared only about my beauty or how many children I could bring them. I fell in love with your father sitting on a bench below a willow tree that night.”

Mother turned to me and took my hands in her own. She looked at me and smiled, though I could see sadness in her eyes. It made me wonder if watching me and Ianthe grow into women was hard for her.

“My darling daughter, I know you feel lost. You have lived in the shadow of your sister and brother. I want you to know that I love you very much. You are a special young woman and deserve to live a special life. Tonight, meet your suitors with a smile and grace, but do not choose one to make your father or me happy. Choose a man who makes you feel alive. Choose to love.”

She kissed my forehead and handed me a small parcel she had brought with her. As I unfolded the material, I found a necklace with a marigold dipped in gold.

“Oh mother, it’s beautiful,” I said.

“To always remind you that the prettiest flowers bloom after a storm,” she said as she fastened it behind my neck.

I could have sat with my mother all day enjoying her full attention, but a knock on my chamber door interrupted us. Sir Connolly opened the door and stepped inside.

“It’s time for your Choosing, my lady,” he said, giving us a small bow, “If I may, I would escort you to the library.”

Sir Connolly spoke with a thick brogue common to the Northern regions of Ethenia. However, he was anything but common. He was taller than the average man, well over six feet. His golden hair glistened as it caught rays of sunlight through the open windows. His deep green eyes were always keenly observing his surroundings. He was muscular, but not overly so, like some guardsmen who resembled brick walls. To say Sir Connolly was a handsome man was a gross understatement.

I nodded and rose to meet him at the door. My mother rose from my bed, hugged me hard and fixed a strand of hair that had fallen loose.

“Good luck, my darling,” she said as she leaned in to kiss my cheek. She whispered in my ear, “Remember, choose love.”

Sir Connolly offered me his arm, an act that was unusual for him. Our knights rarely served as escorts and were far more comfortable on a battlefield than in social situations. We walked together down the long corridors of Castle Riverfoot, stopping only to greet servants and those who lived in the castle as we passed. Ianthe and Reyd were positioned outside of their chambers, as was the tradition, to greet me as I passed. Reyd gave me a quick bow and saluted Sir Connolly. Ianthe placed her hand on Sir Connolly’s arm, stopping us. I felt Sir Connolly straighten his posture as we passed her.

His infatuation with my sister didn’t surprise me, but I felt sorry for him all the same. Knights in Ethenia never married and took vows of chastity. It was customary for them to pledge allegiance, body, mind and soul to the lord they served for life. There was no leaving the service, except through death. Ethenian tradition views any family outside of the order as a distraction to their higher calling. I couldn’t imagine loving someone and never being able to be with them.

“May I borrow her a moment, Sir Connolly?” She asked.

“Of course, my lady. Be brief, she should not be late for her Choosing,” he replied curtly.

Ianthe took me by the arm and pulled me close, as if embracing me out of sisterly affection. I could tell something was amiss.

“Mari, I must tell you a secret,” Ianthe whispered, pulling me into her chambers. We often shared secrets when we were younger. We would lie together for hours in the fields of wildflowers just outside the castle gates. Two sisters dreaming of our future husbands and giggling over pranks we pulled on the cook. I could tell from the intensity in her voice that this secret was not one we would laugh about.

Ianthe took my hands in hers. “I need your help, but you must promise not to speak a word of this to anyone.”

“You have my word,” I said.

“I need to leave Riverfoot, Mari. I cannot remain here.”

“What? Ianthe, why?”

“It is a tradition for a woman on her twentieth birthday to select her husband. It is her only chance to wed. If she chooses not to marry from the proposals she’s received, the law says she cannot marry and instead must devote her life to the Holy Sisters,” she explained.

“I know our traditions,” I replied, “But you’ve received plenty of proposals from several high lords. Surely one of them would make a suitable husband.”

“Today is your eighteenth birthday. Surely mother shared the story of how she and father met,” Ianthe questioned. I nodded a simple yes. “Choose love. Those were the words she left me with on my eighteenth birthday, just as she left them with you. I am leaving Riverfoot for love, Mari.”

I realized then that Sir Connolly’s affection for my sister was not unrequited. Ianthe could see the realization on my face.

“Sir Connolly… Duncan and I never meant for any of this to happen, but I love him and he loves me. We know our lives won’t be easy. We will have to leave Ethenia. We will probably never see our families again. I hate to ask this of you, today of all days. This day should be about you and I am selfishly asking you to think of me.”

Ianthe’s voice cracked. I’d seen my sister upset before, but never like this. She was resolute in her choice, yet trembling with fear.

“Why not tell mother?” I asked. “She believes in marrying for love. Surely she would understand and help you.”

“Marrying for love and breaking Ethenian law and tradition are two very different things, Mari. While I believe mother would understand, there is nothing she or father could do to free Duncan of his service. They will charge him with treason. He will be killed.”

Ianthe was right. Neither of our parents could know of this or they could be charged with aiding a deserter and be stripped of their titles and lands, or worse. They would question me but no one would suspect my involvement if they escape on the day of my Choosing. They would assume I was consumed with preparations, the ball and the Choosing Ceremony.

“What do you need of me?” I asked. Although it meant losing her, I would help my sister find her happiness.

“I will not share with you the details of our escape. After we are gone there will be a search. You, mother, father, even little Reyd will be questioned. For your own safety, the less you know, the better.” Ianthe went to her vanity and took a sealed letter from under a false bottom in a drawer. “I need you to give this to our parents when the storm has calmed. Tell them I never meant to hurt them, but I had to follow my heart.”

I secured the letter inside my corset and hugged my sister hard. She opened her chamber doors to where Sir Connolly was waiting for me. Without looking at either Ianthe, or me, he offered me his arm. My sister swept a quick kiss on my cheek and we continued on our way.

My heart was pounding by the time we reached the library. I’d never noticed how long the walk was until it felt like my entire future depended on it. Sir Connolly opened the wide double doors for me and stood aside to allow me to enter.

“Good luck, m’lady,” he said bowing, still avoiding my eyes.

“Thank you, Sir Connolly,” I replied, “You as well.” I knew anyone listening would overlook my wish of luck to him as an awkward automatic response, but I knew that Sir Connolly understood my meaning. He nodded and left me in the doorway.

They had rearranged the library in a way I had never seen it. The bookshelves were still as normal, but they had removed all the tables and chairs to make room for a podium lined with tomes of the ancient disciplines. I was to enter the room alone and choose the material I wished to study. I took a few steps forward and felt a rush of wind as the large wooden doors were shut behind me. My heart was pounding, which made me feel incredibly foolish. They were just books, and this choice truly meant little compared to the ball tonight. I had heard stories of people who walked up to the table with their eyes closed and chose a field of study without looking. They were still productive members of society. I took a deep breath and told myself my trepidation was unfounded. I steadied my nerves and walked up to the table.

The books were truly beautiful. They were large and covered in leather that had been dyed different colors. The pages were lined in gold and seemed to shimmer as I reached for them. I opened a turquoise tome simply titled Musics and thumbed through the pages. It was all handwritten in brilliant blue ink. I stopped on a page detailing the proper fingering technique for a penny whistle. The candles flickered beside me as if something had caused a breeze. I spun around, alarmed, half expecting Reyd to pop out from a dark corner to scare me.

Nothing. The room was as it had been, but it wasn’t. Something was different. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I shook my head and told myself it was nothing. I turned back to the book and gasped. The page I had been looking at was now completely blank, save for two words in blood red ink.

He’s coming.