By morning, the worst of her fears had dissipated. Rhiannon sighed contentedly as she snuggled deeper into the warm quilt and her dreams of music, flower fields, and laughter. The sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains refused to give her peace. Worse yet, the house itself pulled the drapes back.
“I’m awake, I’m awake,” she mumbled. “Give me a moment, Jessica, won’t you?”
“I’m sure Jessica will give you all the time you want,” came a voice from the doorway. “Merlin, however, is a lot less patient.”
Rhiannon shot up in bed. Amusement colored Tabitha’s tone as she leaned against the frame. “Did you sleep well, Princess?”
“Yes, I did. Thank you.” Rhiannon pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. She hurriedly dug through her things for a clean dress to change into. “Has Taliesin returned?”
Tabitha smiled. “He did. I don’t think he’ll be joining us for breakfast, though.”
Concern halted her search. “He wasn’t injured, was he?”
“No. Just exhausted. I don’t think he got much sleep last night.” Then chuckling to herself, she said, “His loss is our gain. Merlin prepared quite the spread for us this morning.” She stepped out into the hall, paused long enough to say over her shoulder, “Take your time getting ready. The food will stay hot for you,” and closed the door.
As promised, a wide array of dishes waited for Rhiannon in a dining room she knew for sure hadn’t been there the night before. Plates of toast sat next to bowls of out-of-season fruits, some of which Rhiannon had never seen. Eggs and bacon had already been dished out for her at one place on the table. Likely an attempt on Merlin’s part at protecting her food from the witch who currently shoveled all morsels within arm’s reach into her mouth.
“Muffin?” Tabitha offered around a mouthful, waving a hand. The basket that was heaped high with baked goods hopped closer. Rhiannon accepted one of the fresh-from-the-oven treats and took a bite. The taste of sweet summer berries filled her mouth. She eagerly took another.
As Rhiannon munched on her breakfast, Tabitha watched with a smirk. One that gave Rhiannon pause. “Is there something on my face?”
“I was just curious how you slept.” The teasing lilt put the girl on edge. “I hear princesses have trouble if there’s so much as a pea under the mattress, and I’m sure there’s bigger things than that on your mind, Your Highness.”
She could have asked without the teasing. To prevent herself from saying just that, Rhiannon nibbled on a sliced peach to buy herself a moment. “I slept okay. Thank you for asking.”
“Good, good. That’s what we like to hear.” She swapped focus to someone just behind Rhiannon. Her voice turned even more syrupy sweet as she addressed them. “Isn’t that right, Taliesin?”
The usually well-dressed bard looked rather frumpy this morning. He combed his fingers through tangled, unkempt hair. In the soft light of the magical chandelier, the black of his locks had an odd, almost blue sheen to it.
“Ignore her,” Taliesin yawned, pulling Rhiannon from her brief bout of confusion at his transformed appearance. “Tabitha is always like this.” He crossed the room to the third seat at the table. Its inhabitant, a large fluffy cat, gave the bard a cold side-eye before leaping down. “I am glad to hear you slept well. I was afraid all that talk of dragons and wyverns last night would upset you.”
“It didn’t bother me at all,” Rhiannon quickly reassured him. “I was more concerned for your safety than anything.”
“Then I apologize for causing you concern. I assure you, all went well.”
“Is it safe to assume the wyvern’s taken care of?” Tabitha asked, reaching for the dish of bacon.
Taliesin beat her to the crunchy strips of meaty goodness. “The wyvern’s taken care of. It fled when faced with a bigger dragon than itself.”
Rhiannon’s hand flew to her mouth. “There was a dragon?!” she gasped.
He waved his hands. “No, not a real dragon,” he assured her. “I faked a dragon’s call. Only the dumbest wyvern will stick around to make sure it’s the real thing.”
“Ah yes, your famous fake dragon’s call,” snarked the witch with the smarmiest of grins. “Maybe you could treat us to an encore this morning? I haven’t heard it in years.”
“Tabitha...” Taliesin sighed and shook his head. Instead of getting annoyed, he opted to partake of a poached egg atop a slice of toast.
Pouting, she whined, “Aw, I’m sure Sofia here would love to hear it. It’s oh so lifelike. Why, she was just telling me how she’s interested in dragons.”
Doubtfully casting a glance at Rhiannon, he said, “Did she really?”
Tabitha elbowed Rhiannon, grin growing ever larger. “Of course! You want to hear it, don’t you? It’s so realistic.”
Rhiannon ducked her head. “I don’t know. If Taliesin doesn’t want to, then he shouldn’t have to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Taliesin said. “It’s more that I wouldn’t want to frighten you. I’ve fooled wyverns and greater dragons alike with it in the past.”
“Oh yes,” agreed Tabitha. “He’s upset more than one with his playacting.”
“Then, could I hear it?” If Rhiannon was to be the bride of a dragon, it might be better to get used to the scarier sounds when not faced with the real thing.
Taliesin set aside his fork. “Very well. Give me a moment.” Eyes closed, he cleared his throat and thumped his chest a few times in preparation. When he reopened his eyes and mouth, Rhiannon swore for a second that she saw the green of his irises flash gold. What startled her more, however, was the growling, gravelly nature his voice took on. “I am Taliesin, dragon of the Storm Peak,” he boomed, and Rhiannon flinched in her seat. “What lowly wyvern dares stand in my way?”
He coughed and took a swig from his goblet of juice. He swallowed a few times, cleared his throat again. With another thump to his chest, his voice had regained its musical quality, even if it was still uncharacteristically raspy. “How was that?”
Tabitha applauded. “Bravo. Encore! Encore!”
He leveled an apathetic look at his godmother, then heaved another sigh before returning his attention to his breakfast. “I didn’t scare you, did I, Miss Sofia?”
It had surprised her, certainly, to hear so uncharacteristic a sound come from someone as unassuming as Taliesin. However, she didn’t think it counted as frightening. Rhiannon said, “I’m all right. Just startled. I didn’t think you would be so good at it.”
Tabitha giggled. “He’s good at a lot of dragon-related things.”
But why would a bard be good at dragons? Rhiannon glanced surreptitiously at Taliesin. Did he have a history with them, perhaps? Could something have happened in the past, where he had survived a run-in with a wyvern with only his wits and talent for mimicry? Was that why he wanted to help people, with no concern for his own safety?
Taliesin sighed and shook his head once more. Rather than comment on the witch’s teasing, he spoke to Rhiannon, drawing her from her thoughts. “We should be on our way sooner rather than later. The carriages won’t be running until they’re certain the wyvern’s gone for good, but I can probably arrange with the stables to rent a horse for our journey if you are agreeable to it.”
“Never thought I’d see the day when Taliesin would ride a horse,” quipped the witch. Again, Taliesin ignored her.
“A horse would be fine. I can pay for two—”
“Just the one,” Taliesin said. “I doubt they’ll want to spare two on the word of a dragon-slaying bard, and it’ll be at an exorbitant rate.”
He turned out to be correct when later that day they inquired after a steed. All that could be spared was a shaggy pony only just strong enough for two, and it cost a full gold piece just to rent. Without Tabitha’s word as a well-known witch in these parts, they wouldn’t have gotten so much as that, but Rhiannon would take it.
They had to keep moving before Brodrick caught up to her.