Read Online Dragon Heart by Cecelia Holland - Free Book Online Page B

breathe.
    Then something seized her by the arms. She opened her eyes, and saw Jeon’s face above her, his hands on her arms, shaking her awake.
    â€œTirza, what is it?”
    Panting, she stared into his face, the dream melting away into the deeps of her mind. She sat up, shaking, soaked with sweat. He held out a cup to her, full of fresh, clear water, and she drank. The water spread through her, cool in her chest.
    He said, “I have bad dreams, too, sometimes.” He hugged her. “It’s all right. It will go away.”
    She shook her head again. He did not understand: it would not go away. It was only coming closer. She wanted to tell him everything, to make him remember, so he would help her, but she could not.
    The dragon was coming after her. That was what the dream meant. They would go home now, and she would have to face her mother. And she could not tell them. And they would lock her away again, and let the dragon eat her.
    *   *   *
    They followed the coast west, which was slow going; the tide had washed out long stretches of the road and they often had to wait for the sea to relent and let them pass. Jeon’s pack of food was empty, but Tirza was adept at catching crabs and digging up clams. Jeon realized she had been living so for the whole long time she had been lost. They chewed seaweed and drank from streams. One morning, crossing a narrow little beach toward a cliff, Tirza went running off ahead of him around the bend.
    A moment later she reappeared, running back, and three men in striped doublets, with pikes, raced around the foot of the cliff after her.
    Jeon galloped up to his sister, and she ran into the shelter of the horse. The three Imperial pikemen surrounded them. One seized the bridle of the horse. Another soldier thrust the tip of the pike up into Jeon’s face.
    â€œOff the horse!”
    Tirza clung to his stirrup, a seed between millstones, and he reached one hand down and gripped her shoulder fast. The soldiers were reaching for him. The pike jabbed at him. He shouted, “I am Prince Jeon of Castle Ocean, and if you don’t stand back, I will see the Archduke—”
    â€œStop!” one soldier shouted. “Stand back!” In unison, the other two stepped back, lowering their pikes to their sides. The helmet stared at Jeon a moment and said, “Yes, that’s one of them. Look at the hair.” He bowed to Jeon, very deep. “My lord Prince, I plead your pardon; we did not recognize you, come here so alone and without ceremony.”
    Tirza growled at him. Jeon still had one arm stretched down to her and she pulled herself up behind him on the horse. She pointed on ahead. Jeon lifted his reins, and the helmet moved, abruptly, and got in front of him, blocking the way. The two pikes came up beside him.
    â€œIt’s well we did meet you, though; my lord Prince, you must turn back. The way ahead is not passable.”
    Jeon lowered his hand to the pommel of his saddle, crossed the other hand over it, and stared at him. Behind him Tirza was grumbling and fussing, and she pushed him; she wanted him to go forward, to strut his way through this, as Luka would. Make them let him pass in his own country. He saw something else. Erdhart’s name had backed them up the first time, but now the men were willing to stand against him, so whatever was going on that they did not want him to see was Erdhart’s business.
    â€œVery well,” Jeon said.
    Tirza squawked like a goose and battered his shoulders with her fists. The soldier before him broke into a wide, relieved smile. Jeon turned the horse around. None of them followed him. He rode back down the beach until the shore bent around again, carrying him and Tirza out of sight of the Imperials, and reined in. She whacked him again from behind and he twisted around and caught her wrist.
    â€œStop hitting me,” he said. “Look—there’s a way up this cliff to