one exception. She
had not taken the cart. More frightened than she could have ever imagined at
hearing of the disaster that had befallen Ven, she lost her head and acted
rashly and impulsively. Such behavior was not usual with her and she was
astonished by it, even as she gave in to it.
Bellona had once been a warrior for the kingdom of Seth, the same kingdom
where Melisande had been high priestess. Both of them unwittingly served the
dragon Maristara. Bellona had trained as a warrior from an early age, and part
of that training included learning to keep her shield raised, her sword arm
steady. Bellona had believed herself secure behind her shield, safe in the
knowledge that since Melisande’s death the weapon had not been forged that
could penetrate her defenses.
Then came Draconas and his tale of what had happened to Ven at the faire,
and suddenly fear’s sharp point slipped past her shield, struck her to the
heart.
Bellona was surprised to feel pain, for she had imagined she could not feel
anything. The pain of her grief had been so agonizing that she had never wanted
to feel anything, ever again.
Bellona had not known until that moment how much she cared for Ven. She had
not cared for him at all when he’d been a babe in arms, forced upon her by the
untimely death of his mother, her beloved Melisande. Bellona would have refused
to take him, but she had made a promise to the dying Melisande to care for her
sons—both this child and his human twin—and Bellona had been taught to honor
any promise she made to the dead.
She could not look back on those first few months with the infant Ven
without experiencing again the burning ache of loss that had nearly suffocated
her. She could not draw a breath without feeling her grief catch in her chest.
The pain was so terrible she often thought it would be easier to die than to go
on bearing it, and she might have died, if it had not been for Ven. She had to
live for the baby’s sake. He was so utterly dependent on her and she was such a
poor substitute for a mother.
At that, he nearly did die, for she knew nothing about raising babies. He
almost starved to death, until she found a peasant girl willing to serve as his
wet nurse in return for food. Bellona was able to keep his lower extremities
wrapped in swaddling bands, so that the girl, who was dull-witted as it was,
never suspected the child she held to her breast was anything other than a
pretty, fair-haired, blue-eyed babe. Once Ven was weaned, Bellona carried him
deep in the forest, and there they had lived ever since.
She named him Vengeance, because she fully intended that he would grow up to
avenge his mother’s death. In order to do this, he would have to enter a world
of normal humans, and Bellona raised him for that, or tried to. She trained him
to be self-reliant and fearless and she gave him a shield like her own, a
shield against feeling. She did not know he was hiding behind that shield,
because she did not realize she was hiding behind hers.
After hearing Draconas’s story of Yen’s mishap, Bellona had only one
panicked thought—escape.
Escape the faire, escape Draconas.
She blamed him for the tragedy that had befallen Melisande and she did not
trust him in regard to Ven. Bellona was the only human in the world who knew
the truth about Draconas—that he was a dragon who had taken human form. He had
told her the truth on the day Melisande died. He had told her because, he said,
she had a right to know.
In those hard, early days, Bellona had often hoped that Draconas would come
to take the burden of the dragon’s son from her. Her feelings had changed. She
would do all in her power to keep him away from Melisande’s child.
She sold the remainder of her pelts at a loss to a happily astonished
furrier and when he said he could not take them at that moment, but would need
to find a vehicle to transport them, she threw her cart into the bargain.
Anything to get rid of him.
She helped the man load,
had not taken the cart. More frightened than she could have ever imagined at
hearing of the disaster that had befallen Ven, she lost her head and acted
rashly and impulsively. Such behavior was not usual with her and she was
astonished by it, even as she gave in to it.
Bellona had once been a warrior for the kingdom of Seth, the same kingdom
where Melisande had been high priestess. Both of them unwittingly served the
dragon Maristara. Bellona had trained as a warrior from an early age, and part
of that training included learning to keep her shield raised, her sword arm
steady. Bellona had believed herself secure behind her shield, safe in the
knowledge that since Melisande’s death the weapon had not been forged that
could penetrate her defenses.
Then came Draconas and his tale of what had happened to Ven at the faire,
and suddenly fear’s sharp point slipped past her shield, struck her to the
heart.
Bellona was surprised to feel pain, for she had imagined she could not feel
anything. The pain of her grief had been so agonizing that she had never wanted
to feel anything, ever again.
Bellona had not known until that moment how much she cared for Ven. She had
not cared for him at all when he’d been a babe in arms, forced upon her by the
untimely death of his mother, her beloved Melisande. Bellona would have refused
to take him, but she had made a promise to the dying Melisande to care for her
sons—both this child and his human twin—and Bellona had been taught to honor
any promise she made to the dead.
She could not look back on those first few months with the infant Ven
without experiencing again the burning ache of loss that had nearly suffocated
her. She could not draw a breath without feeling her grief catch in her chest.
The pain was so terrible she often thought it would be easier to die than to go
on bearing it, and she might have died, if it had not been for Ven. She had to
live for the baby’s sake. He was so utterly dependent on her and she was such a
poor substitute for a mother.
At that, he nearly did die, for she knew nothing about raising babies. He
almost starved to death, until she found a peasant girl willing to serve as his
wet nurse in return for food. Bellona was able to keep his lower extremities
wrapped in swaddling bands, so that the girl, who was dull-witted as it was,
never suspected the child she held to her breast was anything other than a
pretty, fair-haired, blue-eyed babe. Once Ven was weaned, Bellona carried him
deep in the forest, and there they had lived ever since.
She named him Vengeance, because she fully intended that he would grow up to
avenge his mother’s death. In order to do this, he would have to enter a world
of normal humans, and Bellona raised him for that, or tried to. She trained him
to be self-reliant and fearless and she gave him a shield like her own, a
shield against feeling. She did not know he was hiding behind that shield,
because she did not realize she was hiding behind hers.
After hearing Draconas’s story of Yen’s mishap, Bellona had only one
panicked thought—escape.
Escape the faire, escape Draconas.
She blamed him for the tragedy that had befallen Melisande and she did not
trust him in regard to Ven. Bellona was the only human in the world who knew
the truth about Draconas—that he was a dragon who had taken human form. He had
told her the truth on the day Melisande died. He had told her because, he said,
she had a right to know.
In those hard, early days, Bellona had often hoped that Draconas would come
to take the burden of the dragon’s son from her. Her feelings had changed. She
would do all in her power to keep him away from Melisande’s child.
She sold the remainder of her pelts at a loss to a happily astonished
furrier and when he said he could not take them at that moment, but would need
to find a vehicle to transport them, she threw her cart into the bargain.
Anything to get rid of him.
She helped the man load,
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