The tents in front of the castle were beautiful. Reds, golds, and greens were scattered about. The largest in the center hosted the king, prince, and other higher nobles of the country and foreign lands. We walked through the front and it felt like I'd walked right back into the palace.
"Cassius?" my mother called.
"Over here, sweetheart." He waved from an elegant table adorned with platters of delicious-looking foods.
Mother sat beside my father and I sat beside James. He smiled over at me before standing.
"I'm sorry gentlemen but I require the use of the tent for a bit. Please go, enjoy other parts of the festivities while I discuss business with the king and queen of England."
A few of the nobles looked in our direction with confusion. James motioned to his guards who helped everyone leave the tent. I looked at James and chewed my bottom lip.
Don't you dare tell my parents about Draco.
"Cassius. Joselyn." He paced around the table as we stared up at him.
"What's wrong, James?" my father asked.
"There is something I need to talk with you about."
"What?" my mother asked.
"It's about Evelyn."
"James. Don't," I hissed at him.
"They need to know. This is something major."
"What?" My mother stood and slammed her hands on the table.
"There is something I never told you or any other dignitary."
"What?" My father sat back in his chair, apprehension plastered on his face.
James took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You've heard legends of the dragons from times of old?"
"Of course, but they're just that, legends."
He shook his head. "No. They are very much real and live here. In Scotland."
"So the rumors are true?" my mother asked.
"Rumors? You've heard more than the fairy tales?" Father questioned.
"Yes, the guild talked about dragons but only in rumors. They never had solid proof that the dragons were real. I always assumed they weren't."
Alastair stirred next to me. His eyebrows arched as he struggled to speak. Nothing ever came out.
"It's okay." I rubbed the old king's arm as James looked from me to him.
"It's true."
"Whether it's true or not, what do dragons have to do with Evelyn?" my father asked, staring at me.
I stood next to James and grasped his hand. "What he's trying to say is I'm a dragon rider."
My mother said nothing. She closed her eyes slowly and opened them back up.
"Don't look like that, mother. It's not very queen-like."
"Do you have any idea how insane you sound?" she asked.
"Show them," I said to James.
"Show them?"
"Yes. They need to meet Draco to understand."
"Draco?" my father asked.
"My dragon that I bonded with, his name is Draco."
"It has a name?"
"He. He has a name."
I moved away from the table and out of the tent. My parents and James followed close behind. At the large barn, we had all those there for festivities removed from the area. A few guards stood around the building to ensure nobody would enter.
"Draco?" I called.
We were met with silence.
"There is nothing here, honey," my mother said. "Perhaps we should take you back to England."
"Stop it, mother." I moved forward, looking toward the rafters. "Draco, please come down. I need you to meet my parents."
My mother opened her mouth to say something when a gust of wind rushed around us.
"What is this!" she shouted.
Dust blew up as impressions of large, clawed feet appeared in the dirt before us. The corners of my lips twitched up as the shimmer of visibility took over Draco. Within a few seconds, a large dragon stood before us, menacing as ever. Smoke billowed from his nostrils, his lips curled back over sharp teeth, and the light grew in his throat.
"This is Draco."
My mother shouted and fell backward, landing on her backside. My father gasped and stepped back into the wall. I walked forward, stroking the top of Draco's snout. The smoke dissipated and he relaxed his mouth.
"Draco, this is King Cassius and Queen Joselyn of England."
"It's my pleasure," he said in his thick Scottish accent.
"You're a...the rumors are true." my mother stuttered for the first time since I could remember.
"A dragon, Madame."
"A polite dragon," my father said, stepping forward.
"Yes, majesty."
"And you speak," he continued.
"We all do," Draco informed him.
"All? Ho-how many are there of you?" mother asked.
"Our numbers are not quite what they were at one time, prior to the great hunting, but we are growing."
"Great hunting?" my mother asked.
"Knights from times past hunted my kind for sport. Our heads adorned their walls, our claws used as trinkets. It was a dark time for all dragons."
"I'm sorry," my father said.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. You can not be faulted for what your ancestors did."
"No. I suppose not."
"How did Evelyn end up as a 'dragon rider'? That's what you called it right?"
"It really was quite remarkable. Typically we bond with our riders as hatchlings and young dragons. My first rider died over a hundred years ago. My elders said I must not have properly bonded and when Evelyn came along, we did bond. And now we are one."
"What does a dragon rider do?" my father asked. "It isn't dangerous? She is the princess of England."
"We fight in the Scottish king's army."
"I'm sorry, what?" my mother asked.
"We fight in the Scottish king's army."
Mother held her hand up, glaring at James.
"Don't look at him, mother. James had nothing to do with it. This was entirely my doing. I asked Draco to take me for a ride. He did. So don't blame James or Draco."
"Why would you do something so irresponsible?" my mother asked.
"Irresponsible? I'm doing something great. I am going to have meaning in my life now besides a princess who can't do anything. I will be remembered for being a warrior. A warrior princess."
"Uhm, soon-to-be queen," James reminded me.
"Yes and eventually a warrior queen," I added.
"I don't think you should do this. I don't think the wedding is a good idea."
"It's no longer your decision mother. I am tied to Draco and to James. I am not returning to England."
She sucked in a breath and pursed her lips into a tight, thin line. She pressed them together so hard that the edges of her mouth turned white.
My father put his hand on her shoulder and leaned in close to her. Mother shook her head and continuously repeated no.
"What?" I asked.
"I'm simply reminding your mother about her past and how it affected us. She shouldn't want to become her own mother."
"I am nothing like that woman."
"Let Evelyn make her own decisions. She's right. She is tied to this country now. We can't forbid her marriage simply because we don't agree with what she wants. How did you feel when your mother told you not to do something?"
"Angry," my mother said relentlessly.
"I'm not a small child anymore, mother. I can do this. You trained me to be an assassin, and now Draco is training me to be a rider."
"I'll listen to my husband this time," my mother said. "You are almost eighteen Evelyn. You are old enough to make this decision on your own."
I grabbed James's hand while placing my other hand on Draco's snout. "My place is here with a man I love and the dragon I'm bonded to. They need me as much as I need them."
"I just want what is best for you, Evelyn."
"I know, mother. You've done your duty though. I've grown up and our kingdom will be united with the Scottish throne. The line of assassins will continue."
"I don't care about that. I care about you. You are my daughter. I want you safe and happy," she said, walking forward and embracing me.
"I know, mother, and I love you. You've done well. Now it's time to let me go."
"How?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"Let's return to the festivities before we are missed," James said, glancing at the door as loud voices grew near.
"The guards should be outside," my father said.
"Yes. They should."
The two men drew near the door to inspect the commotion. The doors flew open, hitting both my father and James in the chest throwing the backward. My mother ran to my father as I knelt down near James. Neither of them stirred.
"He's breathing!" my mother cried out.
"So is James." I stood as two men, surrounded by a handful of women, strolled in.
The two men at the center of the group were well dressed. Their cloaks were dark black with red satin linings. Their black tunics were tucked into black breeches while their knee-length, black, leather boots hugged snuggly to their calves.
The others wore cloaks, covering most of their faces, and masks.
I stepped back, bumping into Draco as they pushed forward toward mother and me.
"Who are they?" I cried out.
"Agnolo," my mother said.
"Ah, Lady...or should I say Queen Joselyn." The man bowed low to my mother. "It's so good to see you doing well."
His eyes turned to me. A creepy smile crept over his face. I couldn't tell if he admired me or had more sinister thoughts.
"You had a child," the second man hissed, spitting toward me.
"Mother." I side-stepped to where she stood.
She pushed me behind her as Draco let out a low, menacing growl that emanated from deep within his body. I glanced at him as smoke billowed from his nose and the light of his fire glowed in his mouth.
"There is no reason for you to be here. This is a happy time for the Scottish king."
"Yes. It is his birthday, and I believe he's your lovely little petunia's future father-in-law."
"What?" my mother recoiled at his revelation.
"She is marrying the perfectly delicious prince James, is she not?"
Mother said nothing.
The smile spread across his face as he stepped forward. "I thought so. Child. Come forward."
I looked from the man, who obviously ruled over the group, to my mother.
"No. She stays back. There is no need for you to be near her, Agnolo."
"I don't believe I was talking to you, dewdrop." He stared me in the eyes, almost hypnotizing me. "Come, child."
I stepped around my mother and tentatively approached him. He lifted my chin to meet his gaze. "What a lovely rose. You truly are the jewel of England. She looks so much like you, my most favorite former assassin."
"Agnolo..."
"Fear not, sweet queen, I am not here to kill her. Yet. I shall save that for later. I am here to offer you a compromise. All this nasty business of you marrying and producing a most stunning example of beauty if you hand her over to us to become an assassin."
"No. Absolutely not. She's not an assassin," my mother said, grasping my arm and pulling me back.
"You have been training her though."
She pursed her lips together, trying to think of something to say when Draco lurched forward, putting me behind his leg.
"A dragon? Well my, my. I have not seen one of you since I was but a boy. I thought those nasty knights killed you all off."
"They didn't. You shall not have Evelyn."
"Let me run him through," the other man said.
"No, no, Berard. You mustn't destroy something so rare and magnificent. Especially not a dragon. We are not monsters."
"He's just a beast. We destroy beasts."
"No. He's not just a beast. He's Evelyn's dragon. You bonded with a woman? An English princess at that. Remarkable." Agnolo turned back to my mother. "You did create a remarkable creature, my lovely petunia.
"She's not a creature. She is my daughter. Mine. You shall not have her."
He shook his head as he glanced at me again. "Then you shall die."
He turned on his heels and strolled back through the doors without another word followed by the women and the man he called Berard.
"Who was that?" I cried.
"That is what remains of the leaders of the Guild. "I don't know how they found you. There must be a spy. He knew everything."
"How old is that man?" Draco asked, his scales growing cold.
"His age? I don't know. Is it important?"
"Perhaps. He said he remembered seeing dragons as a young boy. Dragons have not openly been near people in over a hundred years. Not since I was a hatchling."
"What?" my mother asked.
"Is he an immortal?" Draco asked.
"I-I don't know. I never thought so. Perhaps."
"An immortal?" I asked.
"Yes. A human who has some magical abilities. Usually, it's bestowed upon them by witches or other beings."
"Witches?" I asked. "I am so...I can't." I sat down and put my head in my hands. "They want to kill me?"
"I've been warning you this would happen," my mother said, pacing the room.
My father and James slowly sat up and looked about. I leaned against Draco as mother informed them both of what happened and the fact that I was going to die.