Twin Flame

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Or so Enore had been told all her life. Until the whispering began around the castle.

Enore Loftlenn hadn’t felt the sun on her skin in eight years. Her once vivid memories now tumbled through her mind only in the blur of dreams, her waking mind devoted to assisting the needs of the Archduke Elio, whose castle she tended to. The kindest label she could give herself was maid. Her days consisted of scrubbing floors until her fingers were raw and polishing every surface she could reach, always staying out of sight.

She hadn’t chosen this life, unlike some of the others in the castle who had sold themselves to the Archduke to provide for their families. No, she had been stolen from her parents’ side at a market when she was hardly ten, taken away to an underground cell in which she was kept for days alongside other girls until they were piled into a wagon and taken somewhere far away to be sold. She still remembered how her heart had pounded in her ears as the Archduke inspected them all weeks later, his smile deepening as he met her gaze. It wasn’t long before the Archduke and her captor came to an agreement, and she arrived here.

Here, where she had remained for eight dreadfully long years.

Enore bit back a curse as her nail bent backward against the tile she’d been scrubbing for the better part of ten minutes. She assessed her nails. She’d have to file them down again soon. She turned her attention back to the tile. A dark smudge of some substance she couldn’t name lingered along one edge. Narrowing her eyes, she dipped her rag into the bucket of dirty water beside her and rang it out one last time. If the stain didn’t come out after this, she’d give up. She couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. Not when today was the summer solstice.

For the past eight years, Enore’s birthday had been marked by the extra hours spent in the kitchen preparing for the Archduke’s summer solstice party that he held on the grounds of his castle. She’d come to loathe the longest day of the year, and the simpering maidens who arrived on the arms of lords and merchants from across the kingdom. The summer Enore turned twelve, she’d spilled strawberry sauce on the skirts of one of those ladies when she’d been told to take an enormous bowl of it out to the banquet table. The woman had sneered at her and struck her with her jeweled hand. Enore still bore a faint scar beside her right ear from the incident.

Enore’s lips tightened into a tight line at the memory, which she shoved down into the dark recesses of her mind as she tossed the rag back into the bucket and stood. With the bucket dangling from one hand, she began down the hall, back to the servant’s passage at the end of it. She’d just reached the hidden door and dark staircase beyond when a cold voice reached her ear. She froze, one hand still holding open the door as she peered out from the servant’s passage. Down where she’d just been scrubbing, two figures approached. The Archduke’s dark voice was unmistakable, but his companion was unfamiliar. A squat, portly man beside the Archduke’s tall frame who looked more like a messenger than an advisor. Enore would have left, had the Archduke’s next words not caught her attention.

“Are you sure?” The Archduke asked, his eyes sweeping to the man at his side.

“Yes, your Highness,” The man’s voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Dragon tamers.”

“And what does this have to do with my party?” He sounded bored already, though his eyes sparked in interest.

“They arrived in the valley this morning. No one saw them approach, it was as if they simply appeared out of nowhere. Without a permit.” The stranger added the last part swiftly, as if sensing the Archduke’s boredom.

“Then arrest them and be done with it. I won’t have a wild pack of alleged dragon riders ruining tonight’s festivities.”

“Dragon tamers, your Highness. And they wish to apologize for their sudden appearance by performing at tonight’s celebration.”

The Archduke bristled. “You dare correct me?” He seethed, turning fully to the man. The stranger’s face drained of color, his hands beginning to shake at his sides. The Archduke seemed to notice, and leaned back, his features settling into a cool calm. “Very well, I suppose a performance would be acceptable. But they may only bring one dragon. I’d be a fool to allow more than one of those beasts on my grounds.”

“I’ll send word at once, your Highness.”

The man bowed low, and disappeared before the Archduke could dismiss him. The Archduke scoffed as the stranger rounded a corner, then turned his attention on the floor. His lip curled, nose wrinkling as he took in the subtle stains edging the tile Enore had given up on moments ago. Fire danced in his eyes as the Archduke lifted his gaze to the servant’s passage at the end of the hall. Enore was already long gone by the time the Archduke’s bellowing echoed through the stairwell.

Hours later, Enore lay on her cot, staring at nothing. A sliver of chocolate torte rested beside her untouched. The only gift she’d receive today. Out of everyone in the castle, the head chef, Hector, was the only person to treat her with kindness. The other servants kept their heads down and didn’t talk to anyone, long since broken and drained of hope. But Hector, he’d occasionally talk to her more than to just give orders. And she never failed to notice when a little extra food appeared on her plate. He’d become the closest thing she had to a friend in this miserable place. Tonight, the chef’s only words to her had been that she wouldn’t be working after failing to perform well over the last week, and he couldn’t risk her ruining the party upstairs. But then he’d winked at her, and slid her the slice of torte, and she’d smiled before disappearing to her small room.

The boom of fireworks shook the walls, and she wondered whether dusk had finally claimed the land, or if some lord had grown too eager in anticipation and lit them regardless of the light. There was no way to tell in her room, which was no more than four slabs of gray stone and a door with a broken latch. A chair was propped under the door handle to at least pretend to maintain the feeling of security. As she waited for another indication of the time, Enore slid the torte onto her lap and took a bite. Her eyes fluttered shut at the heavenly chocolatey taste that filled her mouth as she scooped a second bite into her mouth. Just then another sound like clapping thunder rumbled through the castle. It must be dark, then. Perfect.

Not wasting any time, Enore reached under her cot, fumbling along its base until something remarkably softer than her worn sheets brushed against her fingers. Gripping tightly, Enore pulled at the material until a midnight colored cloak untangled itself from the springs of her bed. She’d stolen the garment weeks ago from the launders, its previous owner likely too caught up in court antics to even notice it was missing. It was of fine make, with silver thread embroidering the edges and swirling along the inside of the hood. If anyone caught her in it, they’d assume she was simply a reveler already worn out by the Archduke’s party. She hadn’t planned to sneak out tonight, but the opportunity had presented itself when Hector gave her the night off. The fact that the largest party of the year was happening in this very castle changed nothing. Perhaps it would even aid in her escape.

Because she would escape. Under the cover of darkness she’d run away and never return.

The threat of capture and the whipping that would follow held little influence over her anymore.

Carefully, so as not to make a sound, Enore lifted the wooden chair away from the door, gently setting it aside to avoid the screech of wood on stone. She knew there was likely no reason for her to be so careful in the servants’ quarters, but it was better to be safe than sorry, at least when it came to this.

Without the chair to hold it shut, the door swung open, creaking slightly at its hinges. Enore grimaced, but when no footsteps sounded to investigate the sound she released a breath and silently scolded herself for being so jumpy. All the others were upstairs serving the Archduke and his guests anyway. Breathing deeply, Enore swung the cloak over her shoulders and padded down the hall toward a staircase that would lead her to a side door of the castle that was so overgrown and forgotten that no one bothered to guard it anymore.

She’d discovered the hidden door halfway up the spiral stairs a week before she’d stolen the cloak. The staircase itself wound up to the residential wing of the castle, the secret door almost invisible, blending perfectly into the wall. Except for that one corner that stuck out at an odd angle. She’d dropped the linens she’d been carrying the first time she realized what that strange angle in the wall was, her breath leaving her in a silent gasp. It was in that moment that she had started to entertain the idea of escape.

Despite the fact that summer had been upon the land for a few weeks now, the passages she strode remained chilled and damp. She pulled the cloak tighter around herself, grateful for the extra layer of warmth. She’d brought nothing with her beyond what she wore, possessing little else besides the clothes on her back, anyway.

Enore reached the spiraling stairs with no problem and was through the hidden door and at the exit a moment later. She paused with her hand on the heavy wood door. No sounds outside to suggest she’d be caught, yet she knew better than to barge out and into the night. So slowly she could feel the gears grind under her hand, she turned the door handle. A rush of air that smelled of lilacs pushed into the stairwell as she edged the door open. Inhaling deeply, Enore savored the cool night air in her lungs. It had been an age since she’d last breathed anything other than the staleness of the castle. A peek through the crack in the door revealed no guards or wandering courtiers.

Perhaps that breath of freedom made her reckless, because Enore did not wait another moment before she darted out the door and into the summer night. Through previous scouting of the door, she’d known that no one knew of its existence, or at least cared enough to leave a guard, yet she couldn’t ignore the tension that left her shoulders when no shouts arose at her swift exit.

The night was warm, and yet the air seemed to kiss her skin like cool silk. She wanted to stop and twirl under the stars, but she knew she had to keep going. Keeping close to the castle walls to avoid any lookouts, Enore ran in the direction of the valley. If she could make it to the city, and maybe steal some provisions, she could disappear in the grassy slope of the valley and then… She didn’t have a plan beyond that. She didn’t even know what lay beyond the valley. She shook her head, throwing the hood up as she continued. She’d figure it out later.

Music drifted to Enore from around the next corner, and she slowed her pace. Her shoes were soaked with dew, making the fabric squish under her toes. Breathing heavily, she did her best to still her shaking hands as she peered around the bend in the castle walls. Light spilled from a cluster of windows up ahead, all of them thrown open to invite in the slight breeze. At least no one was outside. Steeling herself, she gritted her teeth and kept running. At the other end of the castle, the gates gleamed in the warm candlelight that reached from the windows. She was so close. At the windows, she ducked and kept running, hardly daring to breathe until she was past those inside.

She’d almost made it past, and was marveling at the fact that she had made it so far without running into trouble when a cool voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Halt! Just where do you think you’re going?”

Enore turned around, straightening as she did so to find a guard striding toward her. The golden light of the party inside washed over his features and set him in a warm glow that would have made him handsome, if it weren’t for the scowl on his face. Two blades of different length caught the light from either hip, glinting with every step he took.

“Pardon me, Sir. I’m on my way back to the party. I came outside for some fresh air.”

The guard scoffed, “Fresh air, you say.” He looked her up and down, taking in her gray dress and soaked shoes. His scowl deepened. “What is a servant doing outside the castle walls? And where did you come by that cloak?”

“I purchased it,” she said, willing her voice to remain steady. The guard’s eyes flickered in annoyance. If he worked for the Archduke, he already knew no castle servant had the means to buy a cloak of this quality – let alone any cloak at all. He was toying with her, she realized. She swallowed, backing up a step.

The annoyance in his eyes turned to ire.

“Now, we both know that’s a lie. Why don’t you hand it over and I can walk you back to the servants’ quarters?”

She backed up another step. “I don’t need an escort, thank you.”

“It wasn’t an offer,” he said with icy calm. He advanced on her, snatching her wrist in a heartbeat. She staggered back, but he didn’t release his grip. Instead, he pressed his thumb into a tendon, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out. His breath was hot on her face, but not nearly as disgusting as the spit that flew at her as he declared, “Not only are you a runaway, but you’re also a thief. You’re coming with me.”

Enore didn’t give herself a chance to reconsider as she reached with her free hand for the shorter blade at his side. Using a maneuver she’d observed the guards practice countless times before whenever she watched their training, she twisted and swung the blade up toward his face. His curse sounded loud over the music as he brought his hand up to his cheek, releasing her. Enore hardly noticed the warm slickness that had sprayed onto her forearm as she turned and ran.

“Thief!” The guard shouted after her, no doubt already in pursuit and calling for backup. “Thief!”

Her feet pounded into the ground, aching inside her flimsy, wet shoes. She stuffed the blade she’d stolen, a dagger, from what she could tell, into a pocket of her cloak, even though she knew it would likely just cut through the fabric and vanish in a few steps. Her breath was ragged, but she didn’t acknowledge her burning lungs, not when she could hear multiple sets of footsteps closing in behind her. She didn’t spare a glance for the guards on her tail as she raced for the towering gates. They were so close, and beyond them the city awaited her, teeming with commoners celebrating the solstice at the grand festival they held every year. She could easily disappear among all those people. She had to.

The shouts of guards followed after her, even as she catapulted herself through the gates, leaving them swinging in her wake. The lights of the city spread out before her, and she couldn’t stop her feral grin. Ulstinn, the city of beginnings. At least, that’s what it was called when it was established hundreds of years ago. The name was said to have lost its meaning over time, but right now, Enore prayed it rang true.

People dove out of her way as she barrelled through the streets, weaving in and out of the vendors’ carts and polished buildings adorned in bobbing pink and green and blue lanterns. She hoped to lose the guards, but with their training they remained right behind her. Still, she turned down alleys and bustling streets alike, and stumbled upon what looked to be a street dance in honor of the solstice. The street was packed with dancers of every age bedecked in vibrant colors and spinning to the joyful music played by a band in the center of it all. Hope fluttered in her chest as she twisted her way into the throng, moments before the guards spilled out of the alley and took in the scene before them.

Daring a glance over her shoulder, Enore smiled as she noted the furious faces of the guards once they realized they’d lost her in the sea of bodies. She danced her way through the crowd, edging toward the opposite side. Along the way, she threw back her hood, smiling as she arched her back and gave herself a moment, just one moment, to savor the festivities. A woman swathed in layers of fuschia silk and chiffon wrapped a scarf around her and spun, clearly drunk and having the time of her life. Enore laughed, spinning with her. As fast as she had wrapped her in silk, the woman moved on to her next dance partner, leaving Enore with the scarf. Enore threw the sheet of fabric around her shoulders and continued on, grateful for the color that would help her blend in.

She’d just reached the other edge of the street when her eyes snagged on the gaze of a castle guard prowling toward her. She fumbled along the wall at her back, barely taking the time to note that it was canvas and not stone that brushed against her fingers as her heart leapt into her throat. Her fingers snagged on a flap in the tent and she rushed in with a final glance in the guard’s direction. Miraculously, he seemed to have lost sight of her, at least for the moment.

She plunged deeper into the tent, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the dark interior. It smelled strange in here, almost like burning hay. And something else, but she couldn’t put a name to it. The tent was larger than she would have guessed, too. Its peak seemed to stretch above for miles, though she supposed that was just the darkness creating an illusion.

Something seemed to gleam ahead, and she crept toward it. Her breath caught when she beheld the massive cage before her. Thankfully, it was empty. The sight of it made her recall the conversation she’d overheard earlier. Dragon tamers arrived this morning, the messenger had told the Archduke. Enore bit her lip, approaching the empty cage with an outstretched hand. The bars were thicker than her arm, she noticed in awe.

Light flashed as the tent flap opened and closed, and Enore ran deeper into the depths of the tent before she could be spotted. She crouched behind another cage, forcing herself to slow her breathing. Footsteps thudded down the main stretch of the tent, pausing after each cage they passed. The tent flap opened again, and a deep voice called from outside. Enore couldn’t tell what the guard said over the roaring in her ears. A sharp whistle sounded in response, far too close for comfort, and Enore froze entirely. She was trapped.

More footsteps approached as the other guards joined the one who whistled, and then impatient muttering filled the air from the center of the tent. Enore rose onto her knees, poking her head up just enough to see the four pairs of boots standing in a circle behind a wagon that blocked the rest of the guards’ bodies. Slowly, she inched her hand toward the dagger she’d stolen from that first guard, which was somehow still in the pocket of her cloak. Her fingers wrapped around the handle at the same time something warm and smelling of smoke huffed in her face. She shifted her eyes toward the source of that breath and nearly let go of the dagger as her body tensed. Towering before her stood what could have only been a dragon.

Her eyes widened as she remembered the rest of that chilling conversation. The Archduke had said the dragon tamers may only bring one dragon to his party. She swallowed, tightening her grip on the blade. Yet the dragon did nothing other than look at her. Its blue scales glimmered in the faint light, smoother than the stones polished by the river where she’d once lived with her parents. Its enormous golden eyes dilated subtly. Another warm breath puffed at her, setting her eyes watering. She thought back on what she knew about dragons. Not much. But she remembered the stories she’d begged from her parents every night before she’d been stolen.

Her parents’ stories had claimed that dragons once roamed the land and sky before they’d abandoned the realm for reasons no one knew. They’d also said that dragons had the uncanny ability to sense someone’s spirit and know whether it burned bright as their flames or whether it was stained black by malice. With that memory the weight of the dragon’s gaze grew even heavier.

She looked into its eyes, silently daring it to deem her soul to be dark and twisted with hate. It only looked at her, tilting its head slightly. Almost like a dog, she thought. She would have chuckled were it not for the inescapable doom approaching from behind that wagon. Her eyes darted toward the guards again. They were on the move, drawing closer with every breath. Sensing the source of her attention, the dragon swung its head around, pausing as it settled on the group of guards nearing them. She could have sworn it growled before looking back at her. When it met her gaze again, understanding seemed to flare in its eyes.

It was that perception of understanding that made Enore pause. She looked at the dragon again, and something ugly settled low in her gut. The creature was beautiful, and was locked in a cage too small for it to stretch its wings. She couldn’t fight back the immediate bond she felt at the realization. She met the dragon’s eyes again. Determination blazed there, and the dragon bobbed its head ever so slightly, as if in a nod. Her heart beat wildly against her chest as an idea took form.

Frantically, Enore looked at the bars of the cage, searching for a door. Surely, the tamers had to have some way to let the dragon out. Her pulse was pounding in her ears when she finally spotted it. There. A simple lock, nothing more than a bar latched behind a hook. She stood, not caring if the guards saw as she sprinted for the lock.

The metal was heavy as she pressed against it, shifting it up. Slowly, so painstakingly slowly, Enore lifted the bar. With a final shove, the lock opened, the door swinging wide. One of the guards shouted, and then thudding footsteps filled the air once more. The dragon turned in its cage.

Enore looked up at the beast. It cocked its head again in question, then looked at the open door. It shifted toward her. She grinned at it, and she could have sworn it grinned back as it took another step toward her. Enore refused to consider how risky this was, what she stood to lose, as the dragon lowered its head to her level. A guard swore, turning the corner of the cage. More shouting echoed around her, but all that mattered now was the dragon. The twin soul kept in a cage and locked away in the dark.

Enore threw back her shoulders and stood tall before it, still grinning. The dragon met her smile with a snort of defiance. Not toward her, but toward their captors. Her smile grew wicked. “Let’s get out of here.”