Following Fate’s Kiss

By: Rebecca Anne “Sinead” Fahey-Leigh

Chapter Five:

Bringing it All Together

            “Where have you been?!” Mira hissed quietly as we entered the main building upon the island.

            I pulled the bags from Varthin’s back, not bothering to answer just yet. Silver shoved her snout in front of me, causing me to ever-so-gracefully stumble backwards into Mira’s waiting arms. “You three have been traveling too long, and Riian, you’ve been traveling on a still-wounded leg.”

            Sighing, I let her help me back to my feet. She shook her head, straight silver hair brushing at her hips. I remembered when she once had sky-blue eyes and her hair had been as red-brown as my own, curling into ringlets around her face. We had passed as sisters once upon a time. Yet when one Awakens a Dragon, their very appearance mirrors that of their Dragon’s. For example, if there is a violet-eyed, midnight-blue-black-scaled Dragon, the Rider whom they choose to allow to Awaken them will gain violet eyes and blue-black hair.

            Silver looked at me, then rested her head upon my shoulder. {You are in need of a bath, new clothing, and a husband to bed with.}

            I was too tired to reply telepathically, so I snapped aloud, “Yes, Silver, I am well aware of my needs.”

            Her soft grey-silver eyes shone with warmth. {And you are too tired to take my bantering. Forgive me. I miscalculated, Nighkin.}

            Frowning up at her, I found myself yawning. Mira sighed. “I’m afraid that all the rooms save one are taken. Master Varthin, your room is still yours.”

            “Where is this other room?”

            “On the other side of the Cavern.”

            She made it sound as if it were a title. I had no doubt that it was. But I found that I could no longer see straight, nor could I stand on my own. I gripped Mira’s arm as I stated to fall into a dark tunnel.

            Arms were around me, warming me. I knew that their owner was sitting up by the position I was being held in. I slowly opened my eyes to look up at a sleeping Qyriian. Some of his hair had fallen free from a ponytail that was still somewhere around the nape of his neck, and he was breathing deeply. There was a knock on the door, startling him awake. I smiled up at him as I called, “Who is it?”

            “Fyrin.”

            Qyriian helped me sit up as Fyrin entered, dark gold eyes and lighter gold hair contrasting wonderfully with her light skin. Mira had gained a dark tan from her Awakening, as have many others. You could always look out into a crowd, and tell who was a DragonRider. Their looks were always dramatic and exotic.

            “Food for the travel-weary,” Fyrin said cheerfully, setting a good-sized tray upon the table. “How did you sleep?”

            “Without dreams, with warmth, and with a guardian angel watching over me,” I replied, my long hair draped around my shoulders like a mahogany curtain.

            Fyrin smiled, and said, “Good on you. Now, what did you want to do first?”

            “A bath. A long bath. And then I would like to see this area.”

            “That’s understandable. I’ll have one set up right away for you.”

            “I can do it myself, you know.”

            “Oh, really?” she asked with a smirk. “You’ll blow flame to warm the copper caldron that will supply your bath with hot water?”

            I glared at her. “Gee, maybe I will.”

            She laughed, and then said, “Mira will be up with some clothing for you.”

            “What? Why?”

            Qyriian ruffled my hair lightly. “You seem to forget that we went through a rainstorm for the last two hours of our journey last night.”

            “Oh. Right.”

            He chuckled kindly, then stood and helped me out of bed. I noticed that I was only in a nightshirt, as was he. “Uh . . . who changed me?”

            “Mira. Silver literally dragged Qyriian out of the room while she did so.”

            I sighed, and asked softly, “How’s Grasp doing? Any luck with Bronze?”

            She shook her head. “And there are no others. Gold has said so. I . . . I’m worried. What if we have to skip a generation?”

            I shook my head. “That won’t happen. Something is wrong, but I have the feeling that it will work out. I just can’t figure out what isn’t going right at the moment.”

            She nodded, looking to one side briefly. After a sigh, Fyrin whispered, “I hope you’re right, Harmony. I really hope that you’re right.”

            I was just drying off, when I heard, “Harmony?”

            It was Mira. I wrapped the over-large and rather soft towel around me, then opened the door, calling the DragonRider by the name she had been born with. She had told me once that she never wanted to hear me call her “Mira” unless we were around company, and the company hadn’t known her as a child. When Qyriian had come into my life, and once Mira had met him, she added his name to the list of people whom she would let them call her by her former name. “Allay, tell me what that sadness in your voice is trying to say.”

            She smiled sadly. “Grasp isn’t doing all that well.”

            “What do you mean?”

            She handed me a formidable stack of clothing that looked as if they were as thin as the wings of a fairy. They actually looked as if they were fairy-made. I didn’t doubt it. “His soul is starting to mourn.”

            Taking them, I went behind a screen. Behind there were other layers of the material. I put those on first, then worked my way outwards. “Why the ceremonial clothing?”

            “It’s to approach the Dragon. You’re both an assassin and have killed four Gyrkin. You have to make yourself presentable, and in goodwill. Most likely, though, he’ll recognize you as Nighkin.” She paused. “Gold has barely made it through to Bronze last night, and even then, it was only a small moment before he pushed her out.”

            I was stuck. “Aah . . . Mira, how do you finish getting into this thing? And what does Nighkin mean? That’s the second time I’ve heard that term.”

            “Nighkin is a term that Dragons use a lot. It basically means that you’re either the child of a Gyrkin-human marriage or the actual wife of a Gyrkin. You will be qualifying for the second option once you and Hrutan tie the knot.” As she was explaining that, she came around the screen, tugged on a seam here, pulled a hem there, then straightened the whole bit nicely. The sides of all the ankle-length tunics were split up to nearly my waist, while the wide-legged, many-layered breeches also reached my ankles, the outer ones splitting as high up as my knees. The top layers were pure white, but as each layer went inwards, they became a few shades of blue darker than the previous. The layer closest to my skin was a royal blue.

            Mira sat me at a chair, then proceeded to braid two long strands of my hair from my temples outward. She wrapped them around my hair, holding it together for about half of its full length, before tying it tightly with strips of the same type of fabric as my outfit was made of. She then handed me a pair of sandals, the same white fabric tying around my lower legs in cris-crosses.

            Finally, she looked at the pennant hanging behind a few of the gossamer tunics and smiled. “Pull that out completely. Let it be seen that you and Hrutan are betrothed.”

            I did so, and then saw her pull out a gold circlet from behind her, with silver and bronze twining around it. She placed it around my head, centering it so that the dip in the circlet was perfectly placed in the middle of my brow. A pearl hung at the bottommost part of that dip, gently tapping against my skin. Mira smiled. “There. Now you look like the royalty that you really are.”

            I smiled in return, then said, “Allay, my mother’s side of the family has been exiled for seven generations, now. I’m hardly royalty. We’ve been over this time and time again.”

            “You have the blood in you, do you not?”

            “You need five heritages to be in line for the crown. I only have four.”

            She looked at me somewhat strangely, silver eyes drifting off slightly, indicating that Silver was talking to her, then shook her head and replied to me, “Say what you will. Now, we have to get you to see Bronze.”

            I followed her out to a balcony. There, I saw Hrutan standing, leaning upon the banister, dressed in the same fashion as I was, only . . . his color was crimson. The exact color of blood. His hair was managed the same way as mine was, only his circlet was completely round and not dipped in the center. He turned, wings shimmering soft highlights in a myriad of colors. I rested my hand upon his elbow, whispering, “Your wings never looked like that before.”

            He nodded. “I know.”

            “Why are they shimmering like that?”

            “We are in the place where Dragons and Gyrkin first took breath, Harmony. My body is reacting to the fact that I’m in my ancestor’s halls. Where Ice Eyes took her first breath, and where her mate Blue Steel first stretched his wings.”

            {This is also where Fireheart first played with fire in the air, and where her mate Waterwing first brought water up from the stones,} Gold’s telepathic voice said within our minds.

            Qyriian bowed his head. “I pay my respects to the DragonLeader.”

            {Respects acknowledged, Qyriian Hrutan, betrothed of Harmony Riian.}

            We started down the staircase to the caverns below. Within a half-candlemark, we were in a round cavern, easily the size of the valley the Academy rested in. This was the Cavern. I felt it somewhere deep within me . . . something that wasn’t quite human. I shook my head, dismissing the feeling, then gasped as a curled form floated in front of me.

            We were in the actual Awakening Cavern.

            I couldn’t take my eyes off of the bronze form. I didn’t touch him. I couldn’t. It just wasn’t my place.

            But . . . he came closer, as if he sensed that we were here.

            I whispered, “Bronze, why haven’t you let Grasp Awaken you?”

            There was a feeling of sadness flowing from him.

            “Forgive me that I have killed four of your kin. Forgive me that I may end up killing more in the future. I have to protect those who I can. I cannot allow virgins to be stolen, violated and eaten as long as I am still breathing. I have to make the Gyrkin understand that it isn’t acceptable.”

            Something of hope drifted across my chest, centering around the pennant. I chuckled. “Yes, Qyriian knows that I feel this way. And he’ll help me. He already has.”

            Bronze drifted slightly away and I reached my hand out, knowing that I wouldn’t touch him, but that I would get his attention. I did. Whispering, I asked, “Is Grasp your choice?”

            Uncertainty from the Dragon.

            “Why do you not know?”

            Dread.

            “You don’t want to make a wrong choice, do you.”

            I knew that others had gathered around us by this time, but I didn’t care. Neither, apparently, did Bronze. His shaking sigh confirmed my suspicion.

            “Then, Bronze, I wish to advocate for Grasp. I wish to let you know that he is not to be just taken at face-level. He has no front nor back in his kindness, in his wish for protecting others, or in his wish to love another.”

            A question formed in emotions breezed past me.

            I laughed. “Yes, she’s another Rider. She’s also high up.”

            I heard Mira clear her throat in embarrassment. Silver laughed a piping Dragon laugh, and Qyriian rested his hand upon my shoulder. I smiled. “She is the same as him. Silver chose her, and Silver has made a good decision.”

            The question of where Grasp was seemed to be what Bronze wished to know next.

            “In bed, resting. He’s soulsick with worry that he is not the one to Awaken you. He doesn’t want to fail. He’s a kind and gentle soul, Bronze, unless the need to fight is provoked within him. He’s a perfect DragonRider.”

            Bronze fell back into his thoughts, and floated back towards the bottom of the rounded cavern. I smiled down at his slumbering form, and then whispered to myself, “It only seems like fate.”

            “Hm?” Qyriian asked, bending closer to me.

            “It feels like this is supposed to happen, somehow.”

            “Because, milady, it is,” a wizened voice said, off to my left.

            I looked around Qyriian, and saw quite possibly the oldest woman I have ever seen in my life. Yet . . . she was standing straight, completely-white hair and eyes staring almost straight through me. Wrinkles and lines traced over her darkly-tanned face. Her pure-white ceremonial clothing was made of the same fabric as my own was, only it was a shorter tunic with no colors beneath. “You are Qyriian and Harmony, if I am correct.”

            “Yes, you are,” I replied.

            “Well, milady, your coming has been prophesied for seven generations.”

            “What? How?” My voice was no higher than a whisper.

            “Come. Follow this old lady and learn.” She smiled while saying that, and she turned, walking into the room from which she came from. It was a cavern almost a fourth the size of the Awakening Cavern. A pure-white Dragon was in the center, watching us with lustrous pearly eyes. She . . . yes, this Dragon was female . . . she wasn’t shaped like most of the others of her kind. Her body was long and supple, and was only at the thickest parts possibly a half-t’row wide. She had wings, and they were thin but strong. Her head was shaped almost like a dog’s, but longer and narrower. Two long whiskers came off of the sides of the snout, near its end, and drifted in an unfelt breeze.

            Immediately, I bowed properly before this Dragon. “I pay my respects to Seer and her Chosen Awakener, Tiia.”

            “Respects acknowledged, Queen Harmony Riian.”

            I looked up at the Dragon. She could speak in the verbal tongue?! I couldn’t speak a word in my complete shock at her honey-smooth voice . . . and as well as her words. She unfurled herself, and then walked closer to me, her pearly white scales shining brightly while her eyes were worried. “You did not know that you have hereditary Gyrkin blood in you? Who did not tell you?”

            I shook my head.

            “Your coming has been foretold for seven generations. All DragonRiders know this. They also knew that the Forgotten Line would be found when she advocated for the Awakener of Bronze.”

            “This was all known of?”

            “And there is more that will not be told to you, that you have to do on your own, my lady,” Tiia the Twenty-Sixth replied, walking closer.

            Qyriian looked from one to the other. “How is she Gyrkin? We’ve traced both of our lineages back eons in the great volumes of the Academy!”

            “Seven generations back, her maternal ancestor had been born out of wedlock to a Gyrkin and his Xaqtha woman. The mother died in childbirth, and the father died of soulsickness and grief. The girl-child was thus abandoned at a Xaqth village. The Xaqtha of that small village raised her as they would raise any other child, regardless of lineage. She had Gyrkin blood in her, yet looked human. Her Gyrskin had been taken at birth when the father was distracted with comforting his lover in her last moments, and was consequently burned.”

            Qyriian looked sick at that. Seer reached out a pearly talon, resting it lightly upon his shoulder. “She avenged her loss later on in life, even though she didn’t know that she had killed the man who was personally responsible for burning the skin. She was an assassin, as you are, Harmony Riian, and one that was feared among the nobles. She killed them not for the bounty, but for political purposes. The bounty went back to her village and helped build it up to what it is today, and that is the Xaqth City of Duel. Finally, when all the noble houses had been given over to the kind-hearted and wisest villagers of the area they were in, she turned her sights upon the Royal house. She learned the streets, the passages beneath those streets, and finally, the Castle itself.”

            “There was a castle,” I whispered, eyes widening upon their own accord. “I knew it.”

            “Finally, she was given the chance. And there was a bloodbath. She survived the assassination, against all the odds, then settled into shadow and mystery. Or so the mainland says. However, here upon Dragon’s Island, we know better. She came here and married a Tietha boy who was involved with DragonRiders. The rest is to be learned later, although she had a son. He became a DragonRider early in life. None of her descendants had relations with any of the Harutha or Kalitha until your mother, and even then, your father wasn’t that man you thought until earlier this year.”

            I nodded slowly, then whispered, “What is the need to be done? Why am I the one who had to be chosen? Why not any of the others before me?”

            “Your paternal lines were clearly in both only the Kalitha and Harutha clan books. There are no cross-overs to either the Tietha or Xaqtha lines. Your mother’s line is the same, with the exception of your Gyrkin ancestor. And I think that you know that, don’t you?”

            “Yes. I know.”

            Seer seemed to smile, and she moved swiftly to me, then rested her head upon my right shoulder. She lapsed into the telepathy. {My Awakener shall not live much longer, Queen. She has but a moment left. And then I shall sleep for seven years. One year for each generation that had been lost. Never before have I slept that long, and I never will again. Your child . . . one of your beautiful children will Awaken me. The others will all become DragonRiders as well.}

            {Which one will Awaken you?}

            {You will know when the time is right. You’ll know. Aah, I grow tired, now . . .} She yawned, then smiled again. {Do not fear.}

            “Fear what?” I whispered.

            Seer rested her head within Qyriian’s arms, just as Tiia sat heavily upon the fireplace. “My time . . . my time, milady . . . it has come.” She raised her strange eyes to me, all white with the exception of a black pupil, and smiled wearily. “My time is now. Do not fear the future. It . . . time . . . makes . . . time makes itself . . . clear . . .”

            I caught her as she pitched forward, while Qyriian held the giant head of the white Dragon on his lap. The twenty-sixth Tiia smiled at me pallidly, then sighed with a great deal of effort. “Your children . . . are beautiful . . . so beautiful are the times ahead . . . so . . . so bright . . .”

            She sighed deeply . . . and then was gone. Qyriian knelt with the head of Seer upon his thighs. His gaze caught mine, his ice-blue eyes watering. I swallowed, but couldn’t move. We were found like this an hour later, when Grasp was brought in to speak with Tiia and Seer. His escorts were DragonRiders. All saw us.

            The youngest, a girl no more than thirteen, turned and ran from the room, yelling, “Tiia has passed! Tiia the twenty-sixth has passed!”

            There was a wail, and I immediately recognized it as a Dragon’s. But I couldn’t place it. Grasp held at his chest, brown eyes wide with pain. “Aah . . . !”

            I placed the body of Tiia upon the ground, then took one of Grasp’s arms over my shoulder. “Get him out there! Bronze needs him!”

            Another girl, black eyes and hair shimmering with red highlights, took his other arm and we brought him out into the large Awakening cavern. Bronze was stretching in all directions, moaning in grief and pain. Grasp tore himself from our hold and ran towards the Dragon. He threw himself into the air, which crackled and shimmered . . . and then he was there. Standing before Bronze . . . on the very air itself.

            Bronze cooed, eyes still sealed shut. Grasp reached up to brush his hands over the Dragon’s face, whispering to the creature. Finally, he rubbed at Bronze’s eyes, sloughing a layer of skin off, letting the eyes open for the first time. Bronze saw only Grasp.

            I felt my knees start to give out, but Fyrin grasped my arm, helping me stand. Qyriian stumbled to beside me, and then took my hand. We held onto each other, still watching the Awakening of Bronze.

            The air shimmered again, and Bronze stretched his neck out long, crying out in joy. The skin that had covered his eyes was still in Grasp’s hands, their bronze coloring melting into his skin. There was a flash, but I was able to see through the light, as was Qyriian, even though those around us were wincing away, holding arms up to their faces. I saw Grasp’s skin lighten dramatically, while his hair flushed from its pale colors into a perfect reddish bronze. His eyes did the same sort of shifting, yet lightened from their original dark-brown color.

            He held onto Bronze’s neck and the two landed, the light fading from their forms. I walked up to the pair as the DragonRiders around me stood fully, watching. I raised my left hand up, palm facing Bronze and his Awakener. The Awakener pressed his palm to mine. I smiled slightly. “Naiiq, Awakener of Bronze, I greet you and welcome you into the DragonLeader Triad.”

            I raised my right hand, and felt Bronze rest his massive clawed hand against mine. I raised my eyes to his, and said, “Bronze, Chooser of Naiiq, I greet you and welcome you to join your Dragonkin in the Triad.”

            Their hands fell from mine, and I fell to my knees, suddenly weak. Why had I said those things? Was the word “naiiq” really from the Gyrkin language? What happened, anyway?

            Varthin reached around me, and brought me up to rest upon his shoulder for a moment, before setting me upon the flagstones. “And I greet and welcome you, Queen Harmony Riian. I welcome you to the Castle.”

            I passed out.

            Laughter.

            Kind Laughter.

            I opened my eyes and saw Grasp . . . no . . . Naiiq over me, still laughing. “Riian, you goon, get up. Can’t have you passing out like that. It’s embarrassing.”

            “Naiiq?”

            “Yeah, me. You’re right about the name. It’s Gyrkin for ‘bronze.’ I didn’t know that you knew that language.”

            I sat up slowly, assisted by Qyriian. “I don’t. Anything happen?”

            “No,” Qyriian replied. “But I’m getting you back to your room, getting you out of this clothing, then tending to that leg of yours as well as your shoulder.”

            “Grandson, you’re forgetting something,” Varthin growled.

            Qyriian cradled me in his arms, settling my weight evenly, and then said, “Really? And what’s that? I’m helping my betrothed recover. We haven’t had time to talk alone since before she had been injured, and I am not letting that continue!”

            I stayed silent. This had been coming for a long time.

            “Qyriian Hrutan, are you disobeying me?!”

            “Most likely! I’m tired of having you hover over me as if I’m a fledgling! I’m not some cub that needs constant tending to, Grandfather!”

            “I made a stretch last night, having ye and ’er in the same room, alone for candlemarks!”

            “What are you implying?” Qyriian hissed in a dark voice.

            Varthin just watched him.

            I had enough, but just as I was about to speak, my mother’s voice cut across the Cavern. “Qyriian and Harmony, don’t move. Varthin, you’re being overprotective.”

            “Aye,” a silver voice added. “An’ me son’s right: ye’re treatin’ ’im like ye would a cub. Th’ marriage comes now. They’ve been though enough, an’ fully half o’ th’ grief ’as come from you!”

            I looked up at Qyriian, whose gold medallion was gently resting against my own. His face was unreadable as we both looked over to his mother, who was paying respects to all Dragons in the Cavern. Finally, she looked back at her father. “Da, they’re of th’ age t’ marry. They’re ready for it. Besides that, though, lookit these kin o’ ours. D’yeh see th’ way they’re lookin’ at those two? Qyriian’s their king in all but title and marriage. ’Tis fate, Da. ’Tis fate. Dinnae ye try t’ hold it back.”

            I swallowed, then asked, “When will this happen?”

            “Now,” my parents chorused, mother’s voice an octave higher than my father’s, harmonizing with him. My father looked at Qyriian. “Let her down. If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be able to stand for the ceremony upon her own.”

            I felt my feet touch the ground once more. Gold puffed a warm breath into my face. I reached up to rub the tip of her nose. Silver quickly followed suit, and finally Bronze. I smiled at all three, and saw a sadness around Bronze’s eyes. I rubbed his snout extra long, reassuring him, hearing the silence around me. Nobody would ever dream of touching another’s Dragon. Not unless they are married, anyway. I sighed, and then looked at Fyrin. “The twenty-sixth Tiia has yet to be cremated. Qyriian and I can wait until it is the proper time.”

            My father rested his hand upon my shoulder. “I’d say that you’re right. We were being rash in our defense of your and Qyriian’s morals and honor.”

            I smiled and then embraced my father. His arms were warm and comforting. “But let him see to your leg before the rites are preformed.”

            Varthin snorted. “I’ll supervise.”

            Qathin, Qyriian’s mother, growled, as did the three Metal Dragons. Gold hissed out in strained verbal speech, “Nowttt of th’ sorrrt! Queeensss nneeedd no sssuperviss’nnn! Nottt witthhh tthheirrr bettrrottthhhh’ddd! Sssiiilllllennncccee, Gyrrrkinnnnnn!”

            I didn’t know Gold could speak in the verbal tongue.

            I looked at Qathin, who was bowing her head to the superior Dragon’s wishes. Varthin was about to protest in anger, when Silver howled and Bronze dug his nails into the floor, scratching long scars into the stones. His growl was irritated and protective at the same time. All three Dragons were glaring at the old Gyrkin. Fyrin, Mira, and Naiiq were standing in front of their Dragons, each with their personal weaponry around them, yet sheathed and relaxed. Fyrin spoke. “We stand by our Dragons’ judgement.”

            “Oh? That so?”

            The black-haired girl sighed irritably. “I’m full Kalith back though all the records. You want to know if she’s Untouched? Fine. If my lady is willing, then an inspection into her chastity can be made.”

            Varthin sneered at the girl. “I have no need of proof of her virginity! I can smell it rolling off of her as well as my grandson! But I only wish to keep it that way between them!”

            Jagha belched insolently, walking into sight and glaring around. “Euah! Look ’ere, Varthin! Iff’n they’ve wanted t’ just bed each other, they’d’ve done it long ago, an’ you an’ I both know it! They ain’t gonna do nuthin’ before they’re wed, an’ they don’t need a bloody escort! They’re bleedin’ adults, both o’ ’em! Not cubs!”

            Varthin narrowed his eyes, then hissed and turned his back. “Then be it so.”

            Qyriian looked at me. I took his hand in mine, reassuring him silently. Jagha walked over to me, his nose inches from my own. He inhaled deeply, then blinked, and did so again. He did the same to his son, and then nodded. “Even though I’m still not understandin’ yeh an what ye two are doin’ as marryin’ each otheh, at least ye’ve been good t’ yeh oaths.”

            Bronze lowered his head towards Jagha, an inquisitory growl rumbling from his chest. Jagha replied, “I’m Hrutan’s da.”

            The Dragon nodded, and then looked at me, then to Naiiq. I smiled, and said, “Yes, you are both dismissed. Thank you.”

            Fyrin walked up to me. “Harmony, I’ll prepare Tiia for the ceremony.”

            I nodded. “Thank you.”

            Mira tugged on my sleeve, then said, “Marriage ceremonies begin when the sun’s last sliver recedes behind the horizon.”

            “Thank you,” I said for the third time. “When is Tiia’s last rites?”

            “Less than two candlemarks away. Get your leg seen to only. The wound on your shoulder will take more time to get to, but it wasn’t as deep. Silver says that’s it’s nearly completely healed. It’ll be fine without being seen to for another day.”

            Qyriian set me upon the bed, and then helped me out of the sandals. “What did Seer say to you?”

            I sighed. “Seven years will pass before she is Awakened again. Her Awakener will be one of our children. All of our children, with the exception of one, I felt, will be DragonRiders.” I looked into his eyes. “That means that it will be a young Tiia.”

            “Yes, it seems as if that child will be responsible at a young age.”

            “Qyriian, all of them will be.”

            “Will they be like the royalty of old, who Hatched and Awakened their Dragons?” He wondered out loud, helping me stand. The tunic would cover me sufficiently well, so I slipped out of the many layers of the pants by releasing the belt. Qyriian was looking away from me. I sat back upon the bed, and pulled a sheet over my lap. “And what about that one that wouldn’t be a DragonRider?”

            “I don’t know about either,” I replied, touching his hand. “I can put the salve on myself.”

            He nodded, smiled, and kissed my forehead before walking to the other side of the screen. We were silent for a little while longer, until I had to get back into the wide-legged breeches. I managed to get into them without much of a hassle, but I groaned when I saw the sandals. Qyriian’s wings rustled, and I heard him ask, “Something wrong, darlin’?”

            “My sandals. Could you help me, please?”

            He laughed, and sat me upon the bed. He slipped the left one on first, and then looked up at my eyes. “And you’re partially Gyrkin. I knew that I smelled something that didn’t fit in with you.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Qyriian smiled and said, “Each clan has a type of smell that Gyrkin associate with them. The Kalitha smell like medicines, Tietha smell like fresh-let blood, Harutha smell like animal grease that is put on hinges to keep them quiet, and the Xaqtha smell like metals. You have the best part of each smell out of all of them, and then there was this one bit that I couldn’t figure out. And I didn’t know that it was Qyrkin, because I didn’t feel the immediate connection that I usually feel when I’m around other Gyrkin.”

            “So I smell like a Gyrkin?”

            “Not really,” he replied, putting the other sandal on. “It’s so faint that even I as a Higher Form Gyrkin can hardly smell it. And you know how good my nose is.”

            “But Dragons have an even higher sense of smell, I take it.”

            “Oh, immensely,” he laughed. He helped me to my feet. “Now, to the ceremonies.”

            The pyre had been set by Qyriian, myself, the other DragonLeaders, and my parents. The royal family and their protectors. That had been an hour ago, and Qyriian and I were watching the sun set together, just holding onto each other, scared of what lay ahead on this night. I was trembling with what could happen, remembering the fight with Khranak Hgathin. I didn’t want that to mar our wedding night.

            Qyriian sighed into my hair, and whispered, “What are you turning over and over in your head?”

            “Khranak Hgathin.”

            “Is that coin for him made yet?”

            “No. Father said that he’d have it for me soon, though.”

            “He’s a wonderful person. I’ll be fortunate to be his son. And I’m glad that he and your mother got married before we left Fortune’s Island.” He rested his hand on the small of my back, causing me to smile and lean into him more. His voice was gentle. “If you want, we can still wait until you feel ready. Even after our marriage, we can wait. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

            I heard four sets of footsteps, two human, and two Gyrkin, walk up behind us. We turned and saw our parents. My father held out a small leather purse to me. I took it in both hands, and opened it to reveal not only the memorial coin, but two rings made out of twining gold, silver and bronze, each with a perfect clearstone set into them.

            They were wedding bands . . . in the style that royalty wore.

            I looked up at my father, and saw his smile. “My family has always supplied the royalty with their wedding rings, as well as any delicate jewelry. Those circlets that you’re wearing were made by my grandfather. His sister was the Twenty-fifth Tiia, and she said that one day, his great-granddaughter and her chosen betrothed would wear them.”

            I flew into his arms, and felt him hold me back gently. Finally, he set me upon the ground, and I turned to look at the last sliver of the sun. It finally dipped out of view. I looked up at Qyriian, who whispered, “Whenever you’re ready, Riian.”

            I took his face in my hands, and gently pulled it close for a soft kiss. “I’m more than ready. I think that we both have been for a while.”

            He took my hand and lead me back down to the Awakening cavern, where the DragonLeaders were waiting with a lady who looked older than the Twenty-sixth Tiia. She was a holy woman, one of the ministers of the Old Faith. She smiled, wrinkled face gaining more wrinkles in the action, and said in a surprisingly strong voice, “Harmony Riian, I have been waiting for this day for years. You took long enough in the coming.”

            I smiled, and bowed to her. “Thank you for waiting, then.”

            “God have mercy upon my soul, but child, you’re going to have rough years ahead of you if those future-seers are right. You and your husband-to-be both.”

            Qyriian smiled, and then said, “We’ll deal with those troubles when they come up.”

            “Good. That’s the way to look at it. Now, shall we?”

            I looked to Qyriian, catching his eye, and he smiled that smile he reserved only for me. I smiled back, and said, “Yes. We’re ready.”

            Dawn took its time coming, it seemed. Neither Qyriian nor I slept, but instead sat out on the top of the rock castle all night long, completely alone. We just sat together, him holding me close to his body, his wings keeping us warm in the chilly night. We were facing east, so we saw as the sky went through the morning shades of daybreak, and finally became something more.

            The sun rose, and I sighed, bowing my head. Qyriian kissed the back of my neck timidly, and I chuckled. “Alright, already. What did you want?”

            “You, but I already have you.”

            “Something else is hiding in your voice.”

            “Yeah, I know.”

            “Are you going to tell me?”

            He didn’t answer, but instead slid his left hand under mine, raising them up so that we could look at the rings that signified our marriage. Our pennants were still around our necks. They would come off just before consummation of the marriage, so that we would hand them to each other, completing the formalities.

            Qyriian stood, then helped me up. We needed no words to say what we both felt. Mother met us at the door to enter the castle, the network of caverns that housed the Awakening of Dragons, saying, “Your rooms are ready, daughter.”

            I embraced her, and whispered, “Thank you.”

            “For what? I didn’t prepare them! Your father and I were spending time talking about you all night long!”

            I laughed, and replied, “Sure you were. But I’m just saying thank you for everything that you’ve done for me.”

            Mum smiled, and rested her hand upon my cheek. “You’re my daughter. It’s what a mother does. You’ll understand it someday.”

            I nodded, smiling, replying, “I know that I will.”

            Qyriian took my hand as we walked to our rooms, passing though vacated halls. For three days, starting at the first candlemark after dawn, we’ll only see one another. Our food would be left outside the door as well as anything else that we might ask for. He opened the oaken door to the many-roomed chamber, and we stared at the room. It was amazing, with fall-blooming roses all over, and a breakfast set finely upon the table. A shining faerie settled upon the top of the tea kettle, shaking her gossamer wings slightly. Her small, high voice carried over to us. “It’s been at least four centuries since I’ve made up the marriage chamber for the royal couple! Come, come! Eat!”

            I laughed, and walked over to her, leaning closer. “Well! I haven’t expected to meet a faerie this early in life!”

            She grinned and patted my nose, waving purple hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Don’t worry! You’ll be seeing a lot more once you’re recognized by everyone as Queen! Hm . . . lesse . . . oh! Hold tight! I forgot something!”

            She became a blur of light as she sped out of the room. Qyriian was grinning widely, but kindly. I smiled back at him, knowing that he was enjoying watching my interaction with the faerie. She came back in, dark blue eyes showing how truly happy she was. “I’m of use again!”

            “How do you mean?” I asked, taking the basket that she and a few of her friends were carrying. There was strawberry jam and bread in it, with butter in a dish in the middle.

            She indicated that they all had purple hair, but different eye colors. “Purple hair means that we serve only the queen and her husband! The darker the eyes, the higher up we are!”

            “And your eyes are the darkest shade?”

            “Uh-huh! So that means that I work directly with you two, with only about six others of my hair color.” She pointed to representatives of the other faerie clans, who nodded in turn to us as they were introduced. “The green-haired ones clean up and do the different room settings and stuff, and the pink-haired ones watch over the children and keep them company, and the blue-haired ones do wardrobe, and the white-haired ones council and organize your schedule, and . . . and I don’t remember any more . . .”

            Qyriian laughed kindly, and held his hand out to the speaker. “Tell us your name.”

            “Oh! I’m sorry! I’m Christie!”

            I blinked. “You really are old. That’s a name from before the Great Awakening.”

            “Uh-huh . . . it’s from long before the Great Awakening. It’s from even before the Great Landing, too. From . . . from Earth? Yeah, that was the name of where we came from.”

            She pointed to a blue-haired one who peeked around the door shyly. Christie smiled, waved, and said, “That’s Tess. She’s really timid, but she’s gonna resize whatever you wear so that it fits you right.”

            Tess smiled shyly, and I extended my hand. She flew over on blue wings, and sat, her silver dress shimmering as she did so. I pulled my hand slightly closer carefully, so as not to startle her. I kept my voice level, gentle. “Did you make what Qyriian and I are wearing?”

            She nodded.

            “Thank you. They’re wonderful.”

            Her voice was soft. “I’m glad that you enjoy them. Ah, uh, Christie, it’s time that we go, remember?”

            Christie sighed, pouting. “And I was hoping to talk with you two longer.”

            “Don’t worry,” Qyriian said, smiling. “There will be plenty of time later for that.”

            Christie brightened, kissed his nose, then sped over to kiss my cheek. “Eat well! Have fun! See you in three days!”

            Tess smiled shyly at us, then left just as quickly. I smiled at the door, then closed it. Qyriian wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his cheek against mine. We stayed like that for a bit, but soon I turned in his arms, and looked up at his ice-blue eyes. “Qyriian?”

            “Yes?”

            I took off my pennant, the symbol of my chastity, and put it in his hands.

            He looked from the small gold disk, then up to me, and finally back again, before carefully taking off his own pennant, and letting it rest in my palm. I swallowed, blushed, and looked down. He wrapped me up in his wings again, and I angled my face up for a kiss. “I love you.”

            He chuckled, then replied, kissing my forehead softly, “I’ve always loved you.”

            Five days later I woke up, feeling Qyriian’s arms still around my waist. I tried to push my way out then sighed, and laid back, my nightshirt threatening to rip. “C’mon, you great lummox! Lemme up!”

            “No.”

            “We’re two days overdue!”

            “I know. You’re not leaving yet.”

            “You said that two days ago. They’re gonna worry, you oaf.”

            “So? Let them.”

            I growled at him, then folded my arms across my chest. “What if I told you that I feel that Bronze is outside the door? With Naiiq?”

            I heard the young man’s laughter on the other side of the wooden door. “Yeah, I’m here!”

            Qyriian sighed huffily, then said, “You’re all no fun. Fine, leave me! I see how it is, Riian!”

            I leaned over to kiss him, and smiled. “You’re coming, too.”

            “You’re horrible.”

            “I know.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I think that the Queen and her King should be seen together?”

            Qyriian rolled over, hiding his head under the pillow. “I’m doomed.”

            Naiiq and Bronze stood at the entrance to the large room where he said all the heads of the Clans were assembled, along with the leaders of the other countries and a few creatures, including fairies and other such sentient beings. His voice rang out above the rest, causing them to turn and look at him. “I wish to present to you your Queen and her King! Harmony Riian and Qyriian Hrutan!”

            We walked into the large room, and then saw everyone bow their heads respectfully in silence. All except for Mira, who stood suddenly, knocking her chair over and yelling, “We’ve been here two days waiting for you! I’ve had to listen to these people gripe at each other for five days! Where have you been?!”

Click here for part 6