By Rachel Ann Michael Harris
The crowd cheered, and confetti fluttered through the air as people gathered on either side of the street. Trevon pushed with his elbows through the bodies blocking his path, gently cupping the treasure he held in his hand. Men and women grimaced as he passed, not just from his dirt-streaked face and greasy hair, but from the splotchy scales on his arms and cheeks proclaiming his half-dragon heritage.
Today, he didn’t care. It wasn’t every day an orphan got to see royalty.
He made it to the street as an open-top carriage rolled toward him. Never in his ten years had he seen anything so spectacular. He first spotted the golden crowns of the king and queen, but only when the carriage was almost alongside did he spot who he was searching for.
Princess Moira, the youngest of the royal family.
She was calm, poised, and graceful as she looked upon the crowd, a gentle smile pulling on her lips. She was dressed in a white dress with pearls dotting the skirt and sleeves and a golden circlet sitting upon her chestnut curls, the sun gleaming off its polished surface.
Trevon was so struck by the sight, the carriage neared and passed before he knew what happened. Shaking his head, Trevon darted into the street, ignoring angry calls of the crowd, and ran after the carriage. He couldn’t miss his opportunity.
“Princess,” he yelled, his voice drowned out by the cheering throng.
“Princess Moira!”
She leaned over the carriage’s side, her gaze locking with his. With a final spring, he grabbed the side of the carriage and pulled himself up onto the side. For a brief second, all other sounds faded. With wide eyes, the princess stared back at him.
Already sensing the guards closing in, Trevon lifted the white rose he’d been gripping, a little worse for wear after he’d pinched it from the market.
He held it out to her. “For you.”
Her fingers brushed his scale-covered hands as she gently took it without a grimace or hesitation when she touched his claws. She raised it to her nose and took a deep breath.
And then she smiled.
The guards tore him from the side of the carriage the next second.
He didn’t care if they imprisoned or beat him. She’d smiled at him.
The carriage continued on, now lost to the crowd, but he stared after it as the guards dragged him away.
I’ll find you again someday.
***
“Please, Princess. Not so close.”
Moira sat back as her bodyguard, Daron, had instructed. The covered, nondescript carriage passed through the city with as much discretion as possible. With the current unrest, people did desperate things, so it was best to travel inconspicuously.
Yet, Moira couldn’t help searching the streets in hopes of catching a glimpse of the half-dragon boy who’d gifted her a rose. It had been eight years ago, but she knew she’d recognize him if she saw him again.
Still, he’d never appeared.
The sun dropped below the horizon as they exited the city, but they did not stop, planning to travel through the night. Moira leaned back and closed her eyes to sleep away the time.
A horse screamed and she nearly flew from her seat as the carriage jerked to a stop. Cries from outside silenced the angry retorts of her entourage and chilled her blood.
A thump against the side of the carriage made Moira scream. Daron grabbed her arm, pulled her from her seat, and shielded her.
“Bandits,” Daron hissed.
Desperate men, Moira thought. She tried to settle her ragged breathing but her heart would not stop quaking.
“We must be quick.” Daron darted from the carriage and drew his sword, dragging her after him. Immediately, he crossed blades with a hooded figure in ragtag clothing.
“Run,” he yelled.
The guards clashed with the assailants, and Daron jumped into the fray, giving Moira enough time to dash into the woods. The light of the moon reflected off her white gown causing it to glow in the night.
Someone shouted, “Get her,” so she ran faster.
The sound of snapping twigs grew behind her.
She couldn’t let the bandit catch her. Spinning around, she lifted her hand, and a flash of light flared into the man’s face.
He cried out and fell backwards, clutching his eyes as he groaned.
Moira stepped toward him. Then stopped. His arm was covered in scales.
As he lowered his hands, his eyes widened, mirroring her own surprise.
“You,” they both said.
She would know that face anywhere. The half-dragon with the rose. But how…
Raised voices came toward them. The half-dragon sprang up and grasped her hand. Moira pulled away, but he grabbed her waist and tossed her into a tree above. A startled squeak escaped her lips, but she clung to the branches.
“Climb,” he whispered.
Gathering her skirts, she moved from branch to branch until their pursuers were underneath her. Watching from above, she saw the half-dragon on his knees again, hand over his face as if he were still suffering from her light.
“Did you get her?” one of the bandits asked, pulling him to his feet. Moira caught a glimpse of the fur peeking out from under the man’s cloak. A half-wolf.
“No,” he said. “She got away.”
“It’s fine. The carriage should be enough.” The half-wolf clapped him on the back. “Come, Trevon. Let’s go see what spoils we’ve gained.”
They headed back the way they’d come, Trevon following. He glanced up at her for a moment then turned away, sorrow and shame filling his eyes. Soon, he was lost among the leaves and branches of the trees.
The boy she’d met. How could so much have changed? She could almost hear the words of her father. “Desperate men do desperate things.”
As Moira waited until she was sure they were gone, she made a vow to the boy she’d known.
Someday, I’ll find you again.
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Loading...ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Great story! I really enjoyed it. (Was that maybe Crowd of Thousands from Anastasia?)
Thank you, Rysha. It was so fun to write and I’m glad you enjoyed it.
Trevon was a man
I mean, he was a dragon man
Or, maybe he was just a, dragon
But he was still TREVON!
TREVON!