Chapter 2
That night, Charlotte lay trembling under an absurdly soft and warm quilt.
It was not discomfort or hunger that plagued her, which made the situation all the more perplexing.
She was wrapped in a dressing gown of the finest silk, her red hair neatly coiled beneath a nightcap.
She reclined on a large bed draped with a beautiful canopy, covered in a white blanket of the most precious fabric.
The room was comfortably warm, the blackout curtains drawn tight, even a jug of water placed within easy reach should she wake in the night.
Everything was perfect, except for the fact that the bed belonged to Henriette.
Tonight, Charlotte was to sleep in the Empress’s place while Henriette herself went to Mount Horeb.
“No matter what happens, you must keep this spot. I will return before long.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Whatever you command I, Charlotte, will obey.”
She had tried to answer with spirit, yet tears still welled in her large eyes. The Empress had never been one to act capriciously, yet here she was, intending to set out in the dead of night for a land as barren as a wasteland. And on an empty stomach besides.
Charlotte’s head was already full of questions and small complaints, but she dared not commit the disrespect of voicing them.
Henriette had always been a compassionate ruler who put her people before herself.
Years ago, when a severe drought brought famine to the Elhyde Empire, she had not hesitated to sell the fine silks she had received as a bridal gift and the jewels from her estates, emptying the Imperial storehouses to feed her people.
Some nobles resented her for what they called squandering the Empress’s wealth, yet she ignored their censure and did her duty.
Charlotte had always wanted to be of service to such a sovereign.
That did not mean she understood why the first order of a resurrected Empress was this strange errand.
She forced a smile as she watched Henriette finish her preparations.
“Your Majesty, please take care and return safely.”
“Of course.”
“If we have to hold your funeral a second time, I swear I will bite my own tongue clean through.”
Charlotte’s voice held both jest and deadly seriousness. Henriette smiled softly and pressed a finger to her lips.
“Hush. I shall return.”
Then she slipped away into the deep shadows with practiced ease, her figure growing smaller until Charlotte could no longer see her.
Charlotte kept her gaze fixed on that fading silhouette, hands clasped tight in silent prayer.
May Her Majesty finish her errand quickly, throw off that somber black cloak, and rest warmly in her bed again. And may Charlotte herself make it home unharmed.
✮⋆˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
Perhaps her prayer had been heard, for Henriette reached her destination without anyone recognising the Empress.
The carriage slowed and finally stopped at the northern bridge that led to Mount Horeb.
Henriette handed the coachman a generous sum and sent him away. Not long after, the sound of hoofbeats approached through the night fog, and a familiar figure emerged.
It was none other than Duke Bertrand Godric, Captain of the Imperial Knights.
“Your Majesty.”
Henriette stopped him from bowing.
“Keep your voice down. There is no need for formalities here.”
“As you wish. Please, mount at once.”
Henriette took his hand and climbed onto the horse.
“We ride to the inner slopes of Mount Horeb, to the sealed cave where the black dragon Zakhar lies sleeping.”
The name of Zakhar was one known only through the legends of the Elhyde Empire.
“A sealed cave… Forgive me, but why would you visit such a dangerous place?”
Bertrand’s unease was plain. It was rare for the steadfast knight to let his voice betray him, but Henriette paid it no mind.
“Time is short. I will explain on the way.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
After ensuring she was comfortably seated, Bertrand gathered her lightly into his arms.
The horse snorted once and surged forward toward Mount Horeb. It was clearly one of the strongest in the stables, carrying the weight of two without slowing, pounding across the earth with unrelenting speed.
“I am going to awaken Zakhar.” Henriette spoke slowly.
Bertrand said nothing.
“Many, including you, still follow me, but after recent events my authority has been badly shaken.”
“As you say, Your Majesty, after your passing, many were devastated. Some tried to investigate your death, but it was not easy. In ten days, so many things have been said…”
He recalled with a shudder the day his heart had seemed to drop into his stomach.
“Bertrand.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Having crossed the threshold of death, I must now do what only I can.”
A sharp wind cut across their path, whipping Henriette’s fine hair loose and carrying with it a heady floral scent.
It was the same overpowering fragrance that had filled every street during her funeral rites.
Bertrand was struck with a mingling of awe and unease, unable to form a ready answer.
“I must reach Zakhar before he does. That is why I have returned.”
“Then… Your Majesty’s death was a falsehood?”
Though bold, it was clear Bertrand had pushed his imagination as far as it would go. Henriette merely shook her head.
“If I told you I bargained with the god of death for my life, would you call me mad, or believe me outright?”
✮⋆˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
“So, arrogant mortal, are you here to beg for your life as the rest do?”
The god of death, his face veiled in strange colours as though woven from the aurora, mocked her.
“I know a mere human cannot defy you. But I must return. So I offer you a bargain.”
The sight of humans struggling and claiming they could not die was nothing new to him. It was tiresome. Yet Henriette neither flinched nor yielded.
“Why must you return? What sets you apart from the rest?”
“My empire is falling. Scheming traitors and a greedy emperor seek to devour it. And beyond taking my life, he will awaken the black dragon Zakhar to bring slaughter. So, take my husband’s soul in place of mine. I will deliver him to you myself.”
She drew a steadying breath.
“I am no commoner’s child. I am the Daughter of the North Wind, heir to the line of Laenes, where promise and honour are held sacred.”
The god of death laughed long at her audacity.
✮⋆˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
Henriette’s recollection broke as Bertrand, pale-faced, spoke in a voice laden with hurt.
“How could you say such a thing? I am a knight sworn to your service.”
As though pleased by the answer she had expected, Henriette replied.
“Then I ask only that you trust me.”
The horse, which had been climbing steadily, suddenly reared in alarm.
They narrowly avoided being thrown and were forced to dismount. The animal shied and shifted, unable to hide its fear.
They had arrived in a dark forest. The moonlight streamed through bare branches, casting a cold, uncanny pressure over them both.
Henriette’s senses told her there was something extraordinary nearby. She closed her eyes and listened.
The whisper of moonlight sliding past thin clouds. The rustle of dry leaves as the wind combed through the branches. The scurry of a small creature in the undergrowth.
And beneath it all, faint yet undeniable, a powerful heartbeat.
The dragon was here.
Her breath caught, She stepped forward with surety.
A few paces more brought them to a cave sealed by a great mound of stones, the air heavy with a crushing presence.
The stones looked as though they had once been shattered and then hastily piled again.
Henriette approached the entrance and took a deep breath.
“I am Henriette Neva Hortensia, Empress of the Elhyde Empire and descendant of Laenes, in whose veins runs the blood of dragons. Zakhar, lord of Mount Horeb, I have come to meet you. Open the broken gate and receive me.”
She spoke in the dragon tongue, a language only dragons themselves or the direct heirs of Laenes could truly master.
The ground shook violently before she had finished. Bertrand pulled her back just as a massive rock crashed down where she had stood.
The barrier of stones tumbled aside, revealing a gaping darkness. From within emerged a pair of cold blue eyes, followed by scales blacker than night and sharper than any winter.
Zakhar, the black dragon king, stepped into view.
“Which arrogant morsel dares whisper in my tongue? You who stole my mate and took my only child, and now seek to pierce my grieving heart with that same language?”
Bertrand drew his sword in alarm.
“Your Majesty!”
“No, put it away!”
She ordered him back, stepping forward to face the dragon herself.
[“Zakhar, I have not come to fight. I have come to make a bargain. I need your strength, and if you aid me, I will return your child, hidden somewhere in Liberne.”]
