Jessica nearly dropped her basket of laundry. “What did you say?!”
The winded valet gasped, “Sir Brodrick has returned...with Her Highness... He’s been hurt... Broken arm and all... But Her Highness...looks to be...all right.” He gulped down a bit more air and straightened. “Well, mostly all right,” he amended. “Heard from one of the guards stationed at the gate that she looked unwell. Must’ve been rough, being held hostage by a dragon for so long.”
Being held hostage by Brodrick, more like. Jessica shoved her basket into the valet’s liveried chest and took off. He scrambled to catch it before the basket and all the clean sheets hit the dirt. Belatedly, she called over her shoulder, “Take that inside for me, won’t you, Tom?” Folding laundry could wait. Right now, her mistress was top priority.
It required a bit of asking around, but eventually she found someone who knew where to locate the wayward princess. A few older maids scoffed and shouted after her for running in the halls and hiking up her skirts. As usual, Jessica ignored them. Sliding down the balustrade would earn her a tongue-lashing later, but she would bear it if only to reach Rhiannon that much sooner.
Jessica found Rhiannon alone in a parlor not far from the throne room, looking haggard. Her normally good posture was replaced by a hunch. The normally warm, if tired, smile she’d send Jessica’s way never appeared. Instead, red-rimmed eyes turned upon her without expression, and Jessica saw her cheeks red and raw like she’d been scrubbing at them for hours.
Fearing the worst, Jessica knelt at Rhiannon’s side and placed a tentative hand on her knee. Unsure what to say, she opted for, “Welcome home, Your Highness.”
Rhiannon averted her gaze. Jessica gave her knee a gentle squeeze. “It’s presumptuous of me to ask, but is something the matter— Oh, who am I kidding? Something is definitely the matter! Brodrick didn’t do something to you, did he? I swear I’ll... I’ll steal all his left socks so he’ll never have a matching pair again if he’s done anything to you.”
Normally Jessica’s facetious threats would earn a watery smile, but Rhiannon’s fell further. She shook her head. “Not to me.” The words stuck in her throat. “He killed...killed my...” Rhiannon trembled.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Jessica asked naively. “The dragon took you, didn’t it?”
Rhiannon shook her head vehemently. “He didn’t take me. I went to him,” she bit out. “I couldn’t marry Sir Brodrick, so I went to keep that promise.” Tears she thought had dried up came anew, streaking fresh salty tracks down her face. “He was so kind to me, and I repaid him with...with...”
Hang propriety. Jessica threw her arms around her friend. “Shh, shh,” she soothed, tucking Rhiannon against her chest and gently rocking. Her mistress clung to her like a woman drowning. A weak wail issued from Rhiannon’s throat. “You did nothing wrong. Brodrick’s the one who did it.”
“I stopped him,” she keened. “He was going to finish him, but I stopped him. Because of me, he didn’t get a quick death.”
Jessica stroked her hair, finding it surprisingly soft in spite of how she and the rest of the castle’s residents assumed Rhiannon had lived the last few months. Maybe dragons lived in luxury and not caves. “I hear dragons are tough,” she said. “Maybe he got back up after you left or someone found him and took care of his injuries.”
True. They hadn’t been far from Magia. Perhaps when they noticed she and Taliesin had vanished, someone tracked him down. With so much magic, they could have saved him...if he didn’t die while awaiting rescue. Rhiannon slumped like a marionette with strings cut. Jessica kept stroking her hair.
“Did Their Majesties see you yet?” Rhiannon nodded but said nothing. That was fine by Jessica. If her mistress wasn’t up to conversation, she wouldn’t force it.
“Shall I have someone prepare a bath for you?” Rhiannon shook her head. “A snack, then? I’m sure it’s been a long ride.” Another shake of the head. “Should I escort you back to your room and let you rest?”
“Don’t leave me alone,” Rhiannon whispered.
“I’ll stay as long as you wish, my lady.”
Over the next few days, Jessica coaxed the whole story from her mistress, though not before swearing on her grandmother’s grave never to repeat it to another soul. Rhiannon’s adventures were beyond anyone’s imagination. Even if Jessica didn’t completely comprehend it, she learned that the dragon had been a perfect gentleman. They’d shared a love of music, one he encouraged by tutoring her in the piano she had long given up. He’d been more than kind, sharing his home and hearth with her. Anything that he called his own he freely gave to her.
He’d kissed her, Rhiannon said, but not with the same fear or disgust that accompanied tidings of Brodrick’s frequent advances. Rather, fondness effervesced from each story she related. She even admitted, quietly and late in the night with no risk of others overhearing, to his making love to her.
Jessica gasped at this news. “How?!” For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine it. Dragons were impossibly huge.
The spell of far-off memories snapped, and Rhiannon’s placid face grew red with embarrassment. She dithered, unsure what to say, then settled on, “The usual way, I suppose.”
“The usual way?!” Jessica couldn’t believe her ears. “But dragons are gigantic! They’re bigger than the whole west wing, aren’t they?” Unlike Rhiannon, she’d never seen the castle’s draconic guests.
Rhiannon laughed, a sound as reassuring as it was foreign these days. “He wasn’t as big as all that, and he usually took a more human form.” She sighed wistfully, and for the first time in a while, the candlelight highlighted a faint smile. “He had a talent for glamours, so it was never a problem.”
Magic and music? Jessica couldn’t picture it. “He sounds too good to be true.”
“I think the same thing sometimes.” The smile fell away, and Rhiannon sighed. “I’m tired,” she announced.
Jessica nodded and stood with the candle. “Then I’ll take my leave.”
Rhiannon seized her sleeve. “No!” she pleaded. “Please stay. I don’t want to be alone.”
This common refrain was met with the same reassurance as always. “Of course. Let me get my things and I’ll join you.”
The princess needed a companion. With every day, the wedding approached, and every day her nightmares worsened. If not for Jessica, she wouldn’t have gotten any sleep at all and that worried her. When the day finally came, when Jessica could no longer remain at her friend’s side as lady-in-waiting, who would chase away the nightmares? Certainly not Brodrick. He starred in most of them, and the few he didn’t, the ones that left Rhiannon sobbing instead of terrified, he would more likely punish her for than rescue her from. After all, what man would ever entertain his wife’s sorrow at the loss of a former lover?
Her dragon, perhaps, but despite Jessica’s reassurance, even she didn’t believe he was of this world any longer.
Though both prayed the day would never come, the morning of the wedding dawned with summer sunshine and birdsong as if to spite them. Rhiannon hadn’t slept a wink, so thorough were her nightmares, and so she simply drifted through the preparations as a ghost. Jessica did her best to give her a healthy glow with blush and lip stain, but to no avail. One could paint over the pallor, but little could be done for the all-consuming grief casting a pall over her heart.
All throughout the ceremony, Rhiannon wept bitterly beneath her veil. When the priest reached their cue, when Rhiannon was meant to make her vow before their god that she would bow to her husband, the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Her knees buckled, and when she woke minutes later, although it felt like hours, she found herself resting in Brodrick’s arms still before the altar. Her stomach twisted in knots, and had she been able to eat anything that morning, she might have been sick. As it was, she just shoved against his chest until he released her.