The Dragon’s Daughter and the Winter Mage by Jeffe Kennedy

~ 5 ~

They set out for the coast a few days later. True to his word, Astar waited for everyone to feel rested and somewhat normal again. Gen spent many cozy hours with Wim playing kiauo. He picked up the strategy rapidly and soon graduated to playing Lena. During those hours, Gen went flying with Zeph and Stella, pushing Stella to build up her endurance again. Even though Stella hadn’t experienced much physical injury from her trip to the tower alter-realm, facing her lifelong nightmare had been a blow to her confidence.

Gen also took her turn playing living target for Stella’s fledgling offensive magic, until she tired of having her feathers burnt. Sure, she could heal as she shifted, but that was draining—and they were all under strict orders from Astar to be building their strength. Besides, their sweet and quiet Nilly had discovered a hitherto unknown streak of savagery, hurling fireballs with accuracy even shapeshifter speed couldn’t duck—and those things hurt. Even Jak conceded that Stella had come a long way.

In the end, Wim and Marjie ended up accompanying them to the coast, making the journey into a bit of a festive parade. Though the weather remained wintry, the lowlands between Castle Marcellum and the coast were buffered from the sharp winds of the steppes. And towns were frequent, boasting comfortable inns with excellent food. Being the off season, the inns had enough space for all who wished to have their own rooms. The privacy was nice, though Gen missed the late-night gossip sessions with her friends.

Having Wim and Marjie along reminded Gen of the excursion from Castle Elderhorst to Lake Sullivan, when Henk and Berendina had accompanied them—and subsequently abandoned them after Henk witnessed Gen’s transformation into the saber cat. Even now, the look on his face flashed into her mind with crystal clarity, twisting her gut. The sheer revulsion made her feel heartsick. And she hadn’t liked Henk that much by that point, post disappointing bedding. Still, she’d supposed they’d try again, and that maybe their relationship would grow. But no.

The resemblance to that ill-fated outing—which had ended with Lena falling into an alter-realm and Zeph nearly dying in the process of rescuing her—stopped there. Wim was good company, and Gen enjoyed his friendship now that she wasn’t worried about love and sex. Zeph probably had a point that Gen was sabotaging herself by continually looking for true love. Everything was certainly easier and more fun when she wasn’t. Marjie proved to be a pleasant companion, too, especially as she relaxed more away from Castle Marcellum and her responsibilities there. She’d also begun spending more time with Rhy. A lot of time, in fact, the two of them often in conversation.

When Gen tentatively asked Lena if that bothered her at all, Lena declared that Rhyian had always done exactly as he pleased and would doubtless continue to do so. And that was that. If Lena seemed to be devoting more attention to Wim after that, well, Gen wouldn’t judge.

Jak and Stella rode in the carriage mostly, completely wrapped up in each other. And, while Zeph and Astar were out and about in company more, they were also taking advantage of the more leisurely journey to enjoy their blossoming love affair. The end result was that Gen spent a fair amount of time alone—trying hard not to wallow in self-pity over it—and on the wing, usually as a snowy owl, acting as a scout for the party with her sharp eyes and excellent camouflage.

They hadn’t encountered any more rifts or attacks by creatures from the alter-realms as they had before. The spirit horse Falada, who’d been Queen Nix’s companion, and who only Stella could see, had accompanied them as promised. Stella said that Falada was on the lookout for anything strange, too, and would alert them. But no one questioned Gen’s choice to continue to act as scout. The solitary hours with nothing between her and the vast silence of the sky soothed some of the agitation in her heart. When she was worn out, she sometimes imagined they were all happier to be rid of her, the odd person out in their otherwise merry crew, but she could usually set those dark thoughts aside.

And so they reached the small fishing village of Aduard without incident. Gen supposed she’d been subconsciously expecting something like home, as Wim and Marjolein had said Aduard was situated at the base of some cliffs on the rocky coast, with a semicircular protected harbor. It had sounded like the cliff city at Annfwn, and a wave of homesickness washed over her in her disappointment at seeing Aduard.

It wasn’t ugly—but it also entirely lacked the lush beauty of Annfwn. Not gleaming white like in Annfwn, the rocks forming the cliffs were a granite so dark they looked black jutting against the obstinate overcast. The Strait of K’van spread out in more shades of gray to the horizon, choppy with white caps, nothing like the gentle turquoise sea of home. It was winter, so she couldn’t expect the vines, fruits, and flowers of Annfwn, but the place also lacked much snow to speak of, leaving it looking wet and barren to her eyes. A pervasive mist made the whole place feel muffled and quiet.

“Not anything like home, is it?” Stella said, coming up beside Gen on the point where they’d stopped to take in the view, such as it was. As a company of Castle Marcellum servants and retainers had also accompanied their entourage, they kept up the façade of being on a sightseeing tour.

“You thought it might be, too?” Gen replied with some relief that it wasn’t just her.

Stella sighed a little. “I shouldn’t have. Obviously not all cliffs and seaside cities are the same. And I knew it wouldn’t be warm, but still…”

“I guess it’s normal to miss home.”

Nodding, Stella looked over at her, wide gray eyes somber as the sea and sky, seeing through Gen. “That’s not why you’re so sad, though,” she observed.

“No? Do tell,” Gen replied lightly, though not enough to soften the edge in her voice. Being friends with an empath sounded good until you realized you had no secrets from them.

Stella simply gazed at her, the smooth oval of her face pale in its frame of mist-beaded dark hair, her lips curved in a sympathetic smile. “You have friends, Gen.”

“I know that.” Because she sounded testy, Gen blew out a breath and tried again. “I appreciate that, Nilly, I really do. I’m just starting to feel like I’ll be alone for the rest of my life.”

“I can sympathize with that feeling,” Stella replied quietly, and Gen immediately felt bad.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that my situation is anything like yours. There’s no way for me to compare my bad luck in love with you having a vision of dying alone in a tower in that alter-realm.”

Stella shrugged a little. “We all have problems, and they are all important to us. There’s no scaling of one person’s troubles being greater or lesser than another’s. When it’s your hill to climb, it’s steep and requires effort. Knowing someone else’s hill is steeper doesn’t make yours any less exhausting.”

“I’m trying to decide if that makes me feel any better,” Gen mused.

“It should. It’s not healthy to dismiss what’s bothering you as irrelevant,” Stella chided gently.

“I’m not.” But a sigh escaped her, dolorous and self-pitying.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I really don’t,” Gen answered after a moment. “I appreciate the offer, Nilly, but I’m tired of hearing myself talk about it. I’m tired of thinking about my hill, steep or otherwise.”

“I understand that, too.” Farther down the cliffside, Jak was walking on his hands along a narrow stone wall bordering the drop, a dagger in his teeth. Balancing on one hand, he plucked the dagger from his teeth and threw it, nailing a bore in a nearby tree gnarled by the ocean winds. Wim and Marjie applauded, both handing over coin as Jak returned to his feet. Stella shook her head. “That man.”

As if he heard her, Jak caught Stella’s eye and swept her a deep bow, pocketing the coins deftly.

“It’s really nice to see you together,” Gen told her, realizing she probably hadn’t said so. “I’m happy for you both.”

Stella regarded her gravely. “Thank you. You’re sweet to say so, as I know it can’t be easy for you, seeing us all pair off like this.”

“I’m not jealous,” Gen assured her, then grimaced. “Well, I’m envious in principle, because I want that, too, but not jealous of you having Jak. You two are perfect together.”

Stella smiled, a full and radiant expression that brightened her solemn face, a light giggle of pure happiness escaping her. “We are, aren’t we? I never would have guessed I could experience this kind of partnership with someone.”

“Enviable, indeed,” Gen acknowledged, her heart feeling lighter for no good reason. It felt good, though, to be happy for Jak and Stella. If anyone deserved true love, it was Stella. “And not everyone is really paired off—there’s always Rhy and Lena. I doubt either of them is serious about the flirtations with the Erie twins.”

“No, they aren’t.” Stella looked into the distance, a line between her brows. “They’ll have to figure it out, though, or suffer greater consequences than any of us will be able to endure.” The shiver of prophecy echoed in her voice, chill with vague alarm. Stella glanced at Gen, once again looking through her, eyes gone silver. “You too, dragon’s daughter. Your fire will be sorely needed to melt the ice. Don’t let the fear hold you back.”

Gen didn’t have to ask if that was prophecy. Rhy always said prophetic words were easily identifiable because they made no helpful sense. “I will, ah, keep that in mind.”

Stella blinked, the silver fading into storm gray again. “Marjie says the inn down in Aduard makes the best cioppino she’s ever tasted. I plan to eat hearty tonight, as Jak says the voyage might be so rough we won’t be able to stomach much.”

“Lots of cioppino it is, then,” Gen agreed. “And a whole lot of wine.”

The ship didn’tlook like much, but Jak hummed with approval, so it must have been suitable for their purposes. They all gathered on the dock in the morning drizzle, saying their goodbyes, waiting for Jak to complete his inspection, the small sailboat bumping against the wood with the surging of the irritated sea. The dock itself bobbed, too, but with a different rhythm, and the truly excellent cioppino of the night before curled uneasily, deep in Gen’s gut. She’d sailed before, of course. Sailing tournaments were a time-honored tradition in Annfwn. But those seas were far kinder, and the boats sleek and trim. “I think I’m going to be doing a lot of swimming,” she muttered to herself. Probably her orca form would be fine in this water, and with it being just their group, she wouldn’t have to worry about revolting their new friends by taking the form of something huge and dangerous.

“Astar says no shifting,” Zeph corrected, a sullen look on her gorgeous face as she also eyed the ship dubiously. “He wants us to stay together.”

“That’s only fair,” Lena pointed out, she and Stella edging closer. “Since not all of us can shapeshift.”

“And not all of us have forms that can survive this arctic hell they call a strait,” Rhy agreed sourly.

“So if we drown, we all drown together,” Jak declared cheerfully as he jumped onto the dock and put his arm around Stella and drew her close against his side. “Worthy of a Dasnarian romantic ballad.”

“Only Dasnarians think death is romantic,” Zeph countered, making a face. “It’s the worst quality of the race. You wouldn’t believe some of the stories my mother tells, expecting us to somehow appreciate them. Some would depress me for days.”

“Did she tell you the one about the young newlyweds who went looking for their lost kitten?” Jak asked.

“Oh, Moranu, yes!” Zeph dug her fingers into her hair, clutching her skull. “I wish I could erase that one from my brain.”

“Don’t tell us,” Stella said hastily.

“I would never,” Jak promised solemnly, giving her a kiss. “Because I love you and I would never inflict that story on any of you. Not even Rhy.” Jak grinned wickedly. “Though I could hold that in reserve, in case you piss me off again, bro.”

“Your story wouldn’t bother me,” Rhy replied coolly, “as I have no heart. At least, so I’m reliably informed.”

Lena rolled her eyes but didn’t respond—thankfully.

“Now I’m wondering if the kitten lived,” Gen remarked.

“Me too,” Lena said with a worried frown.

Zeph and Jak exchanged glances. “You really don’t want to know,” Zeph said, a shadow in her brilliant sapphire eyes.

“What don’t I want to know?” Astar asked, having finished a final conversation with Wim and Marjie.

“Nothing to worry your pretty head about,” Zeph told him with a saucy smile.

“Oh, good.” He grinned at her. “Danu knows my pretty head is full enough as it is. All right, everyone, Zeph told you that there will be no shapeshifting? No swimming or flying excursions. You may consider that a royal command.”

“Can I ask why?” Gen asked plaintively. So much for her plan to escape seasickness.

“Because we don’t know what we’ll encounter,” Astar explained. “You heard Queen Nix—the Isles have a reputation for fading in and out of our realm. It may not be the exact same phenomenon as the rifts that lead to the alter-realms, it’s true.” He nodded at Lena, who met his gaze thoughtfully. “But the possibility remains that the two phenomena are linked in some way.” Astar tipped his head at Rhy, who gave no indication of noticing. “If we go anywhere,” Astar concluded, “we go together.”

Jak sang a brief line in Dasnarian that no doubt referred to drowning together, probably with innocent kittens.

“Any other questions?” Astar asked.

“What if the boat breaks apart?” Rhy asked as he slouched against a post.

“Jak, is the boat going to break apart?” Astar asked.

“Nope.” Jak grinned and tossed off a Dasnarian salute with his free hand. “Not unless we slam into an immovable object, that is.”

Rhy flashed an accusing look at Astar.

“Fine,” Astar conceded. “If you are facing imminent death, you may shapeshift to save yourself—and we’ll hope that you live a long life with the guilt of having abandoned us to this distinctly dismal watery grave.”

“I’m sure I could get over the guilt,” Rhy commented with a thin smile.

“Because you’d need a heart to even care to begin with,” Lena muttered, and he glared at her.

“It’s a small ship, and we might be on it a few days, searching for King Isyn or a hospitable island,” Astar said, giving them all a meaningful look. “Let’s attempt to get along, as we have no choice but to be in each other’s laps.”

“You are always welcome in my lap,” Jak murmured to Stella, and she giggled.

“There will be no sex on board,” Astar declared, the looks on Jak and Stella’s faces almost comical.

“What?” Zeph demanded, clearly outraged.

“It’s a small ship,” Astar repeated, giving her a serious stare. “We will be considerate of each other.”

Gen glanced at Rhy, who shrugged and smiled, unperturbed. Lena was ignoring all of them, and the others nodded, unhappy but resigned.

“Anything else?” Astar looked at each of them in turn, and they all shook their heads. “Gen, do we understand each other on the shapeshifting?”

Why did he single her out? She wasn’t the only one unhappy about the no-shapeshifting rule. “I will abide by Willy’s new moratorium,” she replied with a bow.

Rhy snickered, expression lightening with amusement at her reference to Astar’s previous, unpopular, and now discarded rule on no romantic relationships within the group.

“May it go where the old moratorium went,” Rhy added.

“Hmm.” Jak cocked his head thoughtfully, dark eyes sparkling. “I’m pretty sure it went up Willy’s—”

“Don’t say it.” Astar stabbed a finger at Jak, but he was laughing. “All right, the sooner we set sail, the sooner we can be on dry land again. Nilly, is Falada on board?”

Stella nodded, her gray gaze tracking over what looked like nothing to Gen. “I think we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

They all turned to wave to Wim and Marjolein, who’d stayed back on the solid part of the dock—which should’ve warned Gen right there. Taking turns, they ascended the narrow gangplank, Jak going first so he could designate their stations for being abovedeck and their associated responsibilities. Astar hung back, catching Gen’s arm.

“Truly, Gendra,” he asked quietly, “will you be all right with that rule? I know it will be hardest on you.”

She bit back the caustic reply that had sprung to her lips. “It’s no great hardship,” she answered honestly. Not such a steep hill as all that. “I can go a few days without shapeshifting, and your reasoning is good.”

He smiled slightly. “I’ve heard so many stories about Zynda. Marskal always says your mother can’t go a few hours without needing to stretch her wings or fins. I know you’ve been circumspect around the Erie folks, and I appreciate your discretion, especially as it’s clear you have a lot of your mother in you.”

Gen really didn’t think so. She was nothing like her wild-spirited mother, who’d fallen in love so inadvisably with a stolid mossback soldier. “I’m much more like my dad,” she confided. “Nothing very interesting about me.”

Astar gave her an odd look. “That is not how I would ever describe Marskal. Just because he banks his fire doesn’t mean it’s not fierce. In fact, he burns all the hotter for keeping it contained. I understand why they named you born of the dragon.”

“What is it like?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Taking dragon form. What did it feel like?”

“I really don’t remember a lot.” He frowned, thinking back. “I was so focused on saving Zeph—and Lena—that I didn’t even realize what form I’d taken. But it was powerful. Fiery,” he added, with a part smile. “When you get the form, you’ll enjoy it.”

“I don’t know that I ever will.” She was immediately sorry she’d said that; she sounded so plaintive.

But Astar grinned, clapping her on the shoulder. “I believe you will. If anyone can do it, you can. And you will be able to do it more than once.”

She smiled back, surprisingly moved. “You did it when you needed to most, and without ever practicing, but thank you for your confidence. And Astar?” she added impulsively as he started to turn away. He faced her again, his summer-sky blue eyes intent, gold curls tossing around his noble brow. “I think you’ll be a really good high king,” she told him. “You’re a good leader. Wise and forward-thinking. I’m sorry I questioned you.”

He tugged one of her long curls, just as he had when they were kids. “You have royal dispensation to question me anytime you think it necessary, Gen. Any king would be lucky to have someone as quick-witted as you are to point out their flaws.”

Maybe it was because she was already emotional, but that surprising statement made her weepy for no good reason at all. She opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it and blinked the tears away. “Thank you.”

“Hey, you two,” Jak called, one booted foot propped on the gunwale. “No lollygagging will be tolerated on my ship. Get yourselves up here.”

“We’re not on your ship yet,” Gen pointed out, tempted to stick her tongue out at him, which had been her go-to response to Jak’s mischief when she was ten.

He grinned, dark eyes sharp. “If you want to be on it—and not get tossed overboard—you’ll step lively.”

“I don’t care if you toss me overboard,” she argued, though she obediently trudged up the gangplank. Slowly. “I’ll just—” She broke off, realizing that she wouldn’t be allowed to shapeshift.

“Exactly.” Jak rubbed his hands together. “Your ass belongs to me now, mossback.”

“You are not funny.”

“But I am in charge.” He still smiled, but steel underlaid it. “My ship, my kingdom. The captain of the ship outranks everyone on it,” he reminded them. “That includes you, Willy,” he added as Astar stepped on board.

“It’s apparently true,” Lena called from her perch on an upper deck, near the big wheel for steering. “I found it in a Dasnarian sailing manual.”

“Would I lie?” Jak inquired jauntily.

“Cheerfully and without remorse,” Astar retorted with an easy smile, then he snapped to attention and saluted. “Permission to come aboard, Captain Konyngrr?”

“Granted. Stow the gangplank, Willy. Gen, come with me. Step lively.”

“I had no idea you could be such a tyrant,” Gen muttered.

“I did,” Stella said as they passed her, her tone sultry and her slight smile full of smug mystery.

Jak winked at her, and the too-familiar envy stabbed at Gen. She let it go with a blown-out breath, actually grateful she needed to pay attention to Jak’s instructions on her new responsibilities. He left her to memorize the lines and ties he’d explained, and went to place Astar on the wheel, as the most muscular of all of them.

“All right, crew,” Jak shouted, waiting for everyone to pay attention. “All joking aside, I mean it when I say I expect you all to obey my commands and obey them immediately. It could mean the difference between us sailing or sinking. You’re a raw crew, but you’re all smart, capable people. If you need help, yell out my name. Don’t use it otherwise. I’ll get to you as quick as I can. Don’t leave your stations without permission for any reason. Lena, you are the sole exception. Do your weather magic in any way that might smooth our passage. Move around if you need to—just keep your eyes open, because stuff moves around fast sometimes. Just remember, your new motto is: One hand for you; one hand for the boat. Always be holding onto something, so you don’t go overboard. That goes for all of you.”

They all nodded, and Jak continued. “The rest of you, just focus on your job, and not what anyone else is doing. Let me do the thinking. This is going to be a miserable crossing, but we can do this. You can do it.”

“I can’t decide if I’m inspired or terrified,” Rhy drawled.

Jak tossed him a little salute. “Both work for me, as long as you obey orders.”