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Authors: Joanne Bertin

BOOK: The Last Dragonlord
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“All seemed well, but one day on the journey Linden wanted to show me something from the air. It was to be a short flight, nothing difficult—and that’s when it happened. I couldn’t Change again.”
Maurynna swallowed against the memory; even remembering that pain made her queasy. “Not that time, not the other few times I’ve had the courage to try. It’s never happened before in anyone’s memory, and there’s no mention of such a thing in any of the records. Both the Lady of Dragonskeep and her soultwin Kelder as well as the two archivists Jenna and Lukai, all of the
kir
recorders, Linden and I have spent candlemarks searching them. I keep hoping there’s an answer … .”
“I’m sorry for that,” Raven said. “Truly sorry.” Then, “You and … Linden Rathan … .”
The pain was back in his voice. Maurynna suddenly understood. “Raven—did you … did you think that we would … ?”
He turned bright red. “Um, ah—yes. I did. We got along so well, you see. And we always made up after a fight. We wouldn’t have to get used to another person’s ways, either of us.”
“Raven, you don’t really consider
that
a good reason to get married, do you?” The thought boggled her. She had certainly never felt that way.
Raven said, “It’s better than some.”
She had to admit that he was right; indeed, it was a better reason than many she’d heard.
But it still wasn’t enough.
“It seemed so simple. We’ve always been comfortable together,” he finished plaintively.
If she’d had something to hand, she would have thrown it. Marry her because she was comfortable, like a pair of old boots? Because it was the easy way out? She considered hitting him but remembered her new strength in time. “What!”
From the corner of her eye she could see heads turning to
look. She didn’t care. “Oh, for—! Raven, yes, I love you, you idiot, but as a friend.” She relented at the hurt in his eyes. More gently she said, “Don’t you see? We would never have had a chance. Even if we had married, I would’ve had to leave you once I’d Changed the first time. Try to understand; I don’t just love Linden. He’s part of me—literally. That’s what being a soultwin means. I would have had to go to him no matter what.”
He nodded. His voice shook when he spoke. “I’m trying … to, to understand. I do here,” he touched his forehead. He continued, “But I’m having trouble here,” and laid a hand over his heart. “I’d always thought we’d marry, then go to my aunt in Yerrih. You know she wants me to help her raise and train her horses.”
The words shocked Maurynna. Not
his
plans; she’d known about
his
plans for years. But she’d never known of his plans for
her.
Feeling the walls of the Keep closing in, she got slowly to her feet. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air to breathe. “You thought I would give up the sea so easily? That I could?”
She couldn’t believe it. Raven of all people should know what having her own ship meant to her. He had dreams as well. “Hang it all! Don’t any of you understand?”
Maurynna bolted from the alcove and out of the great hall. Through the halls of the great Keep she ran, ignoring those who called to her, running like a deer from the hounds, running from those who wanted to bury her alive.
It was silly and childish—she knew that. But neither could she sit still any longer. She’d suffocate.
One of the postern doors was open to the fresh morning air. Maurynna went through it like a bolt of lightning looking for a target.
She didn’t stop until she reached the paddocks behind the Llysanyins’ stable. A leap that she wouldn’t have even considered trying a few short months ago carried her over the fence to her Llysanyin stallion’s yard. She landed, nearly lost her balance, but caught herself before she sprawled facedown in the dirt.
Boreal trotted to her, snorting concern over his person’s agitation. Maurynna buried her face in his mane and wrapped her arms around the dappled grey neck, fighting back tears of frustration and anger.
I can’t be a proper Dragonlord, I can’t be a ship’s captain at all, and everyone wants to either wrap me in wool like some glass bauble or drag me off to fulfill their dreams. Damn it, it’s not fair!
Boreal draped his head over her shoulder and pulled her closer. Encouraged by the intelligent animal’s sympathy, she drew breath to recite her list of grievances.
With my luck, the horse will be the only one who understands
. The sudden thought made her break into a wry, hiccuping laugh.
“Thank the gods,” a lilting—if ironic—voice said behind her, “you’re not crying after all. I had wondered about that from the way you fell on Boreal’s neck. For alas and alack, little one, you’re a wee bit large for me to cuddle on my lap for comforting.”
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
THE LAST DRAGONLORD
Copyright © 1998 by Joanne Bertin
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
 
 
Edited by James Frenkel
 
 
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Tor
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
 
 
eISBN 9781466819757
First eBook Edition : April 2012
EAN 978-0-812-54541-8
 
 
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 98-21186
First edition: December 1998
First mass market edition: September 1999

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