Chosen: Book 1 in the Dragon Queen series
1 – A Stranger Comes to Town

The harsh jangle of the bell over the shop door startled me out of my gloom. I swept the doctor’s bill out of sight under the counter and looked up. My customer-smile became a real gesture when I saw who it was, “Brunna!”

“Alliss.” My best friend glanced around nervously, as though she might replace her way barred. “I’m here on business. I’ve come to get ma’s pearls out of hock.”

I waved her to come in. Brunna didn’t need an excuse as far as I was concerned. She liked to escape her crowded house and I liked the company. “I’ve got them right here,” I promised.

Payday, which meant Ma Henderby’s jewellery would return home until the next time she was short. With seven children, that happened regularly. Brunna’s mother was one of Magpie’s Antiquities best customers; reliable for a shilling a week.

Brunna reached the counter and leaned on the rikkawood top while she looked around, surveying the shop’s contents, which she probably knew as well as I did. “Anything new in?”

“Nothing exciting.” While Pa was sick I didn’t dare buy anything, only pawn goods for people who could be relied upon to retrieve them. I was afraid he’d wake up and tell me off for making a bad bargain and wasting money. A shiver twitched my shoulders. I was more afraid he wouldn’t wake up at all.

I found the necklace and bracelet and set them on the counter. Brunna counted out the five shillings owed and I signed against the tally book and swept the money into the till. Brunna edged along the counter, her eyes dredging the jewellery kept in the glass display cabinet. “I don’t know why you don’t wear these,” she sighed. “You’d look like a princess.”

I smiled. If Brunna couldn’t escape her family, she escaped into her own imagination. I was more pragmatic. “I’d look like a poor girl who’d committed a theft.” Pa had drubbed into me the knowledge that nothing in the shop was ‘ours’. It was all passing through, and making a little money on the way.

Brunna tutted at my practicality. “Don’t you like to dream?”

“Can’t afford dreams,” I told her drily. My thoughts returned to the bill under my hand. We could barely afford to pay our way, never mind silly dreams.

My romantic friend looked up, eyes shining. “But dreams are free. That’s the best part. A pauper can dream just as freely as a prince.”

I huffed, the paper dry beneath my fingertips. “Dreams won’t replace a cure for Pa.”

Brunna’s expression dropped. “He’s no better?” She glanced behind me to the curtain that sectioned the shop from the back room and the stairs up, as though he might appear just for wanting it.

“No change.”

She frowned. “Ma says it must be an enchantment, for him to sleep so long.”

“It can’t be an enchantment,” I replied automatically. “Who could enchant him here in Besserton?” My light words betrayed the hard beating of my heart. There were no mages in Besserton, but Pa had never told me where he’d gone to do business. And while I wouldn’t admit it even to Brunna, what he’d brought back suggested the matter was full of magic. Choking fear rose. If it were magic we had no hope, and I couldn’t let go of hope.

“True enough.” Brunna was easily distracted, returning her attention to the display cabinet, sighing over the glittering jewels and gleaming gold and silver.

The bill burned under my fingers. “Brunna, could you watch the shop? Just for a few minutes? I’ve an errand to run.”

She grinned, delighted for the excuse to play shopkeeper. “Of course.” She moved immediately to the other side of the counter beside me. “Take your time.”

“Don’t pay anyone any money. Tell them to wait.”

Brunna pouted, and flicked open the tally book. I was confident she’d spend the time seeing which of our neighbours owed what. Gossip was almost as valuable as dreams for my friend.

I folded the doctor’s bill and took the money to cover it from the till.

“Ten minutes,” I promised Brunna as I left, bell jangling behind me.

The doctor lived in a fancy house in the middle of town, his surgery and an apothecary’s shop on the ground floor with accommodation on the upper storeys. He looked as though he could afford plenty of dreams, and given the bill I’d received, I wasn’t surprised. I’d tried remedies from the apothecary first, only calling on the doctor when I was desperate.

My desperation hadn’t paid off.

Three crowns we owed. Yet Pa was no better. I fingered the coins in my pocket. I’d barely earned three crowns in the shop during the past six months. Just existing I was eating into Pa’s savings. There ought to be some rule that doctors couldn’t charge if their patients didn’t get better. I pulled my cloak tighter around me as I rapped on the locked door, resentment filling my breast. For three crowns he ought to guarantee a cure.

“Surgery’s closed until tomorrow at ten!” A voice called down from an upstairs window.

I stepped back until I could see the face, half-hidden by the glass. “I’ve come to pay a bill. And I want to speak to the doctor.”

There was a pause, then the window slammed shut. I waited. A minute later the door opened and the doctor, a tall, grey-haired man dressed all in black, let me inside. “You want to pay your bill?”

My courage quailed, but I couldn’t leave empty-handed. “I want another cure,” I blurted. “The one you gave me didn’t work. You shouldn’t charge for something that doesn’t work.”

The doctor’s eyebrows rose and rose until they were completely hidden behind his hair. I wished he would step back so I didn’t have to crane my neck at him, but I was sure he was looming over me deliberately for that reason. “You dare to doubt my expertise?”

“You treated my father and he’s no better. What am I supposed to think?”

His nostrils flared with displeasure. I wanted to run, but that wouldn’t do Pa any good. I looked up at him and gathered all my courage. “You’ve charged me three crowns and made no cure. That’s not good enough.”

His already cold expression grew icy. “I diagnosed the patient and gave you appropriate medicine.”

My mouth dried and I licked my lips. I needed Pa better, and we didn’t have three crowns to throw around. “It didn’t work.” My words tripped over themselves. “There must be something else you can do. You have an obligation...” At his expression my words dried up.

He glared, eyes glittering with anger. I forced myself not to take a step back. “I am a doctor, not a miracle worker. Some ailments cannot be cured. I have done all I can. Perhaps you should steel yourself for the worst.”

The meaning of his words pierced my unwilling brain. “No. No, he’s not dying!” Terror blazed through me, cold and ferocious. “He can’t be.”

For the first time, a flash of humanity and sympathy softened the doctor’s expression. That was even worse than the contempt. “We all die eventually. There’s not a doctor in the world can prevent that.”

I turned and ran. My breaths came in sobs as I pounded the cobbles of the main street. Pa wasn’t dying. He couldn’t be. Six months and he was no better, but he was no worse. Just sleeping. I pushed away the knowledge that no one could sleep for six months, not naturally.

He was all I had. I needed him back, whole and well. I couldn’t let him die.

As the shop came into sight I slowed, sucking air into my panicked lungs so I could think. The doctor had no solutions, but there had to be other options. The doctor wasn’t a miracle worker, but there were people in Muirland who could perform miracles. The mages, with their spells. They could cure him, even if he had been sent to sleep by magic.

Provided I could afford their price. I doubted that would be counted in crowns. We didn’t possess enough money to pay for a spell from a mage, but we did have something that might persuade them to act...

Pa would likely kill me if he woke to replace I’d exchanged his most prized possession for a cure, but so long as he was awake, that was a chance I’d take.

~

“...Oh, here she is.”

Even over the chime of the bell over the door, the relief in Brunna’s tone was clear.

I paused as the man at the counter turned. A frisson of alarm ran down my spine. He looked as out of place in Besserton as I did. Like me, he had the pale skin of a Nordin citizen, while his hair was dark and glossy like someone from Surran. And his eyes were cold as ice.

“You’re the owner?”

I straightened my shoulders at his tone. “I’m the manager.” I strode forward and rounded the counter, Brunna giving way eagerly. “How can I help?”

His lip curled. “I need to speak to the owner.”

I looked at his eyes, then away, straightening the tally book to give me something to do. “That’s not possible. But I can help?”

The man leaned further over the counter. I forced myself not to back away like my frantic heart was recommending. “Where is he?”

Brunna pressed closer. “I ... I think you should leave.”

He glared and she swallowed audibly. I touched her arm. “He’s not available,” I told the stranger, pushing down my fear. He was just a customer. I rude, intimidating one, but a customer. “Are you looking for something in particular?” I spread a hand, indicating the shop’s contents.

He showed his teeth and leaned even closer. “I’m looking for something exceptionally rare. If you take my meaning.”

My heart lurched, because I was afraid I knew exactly what he meant – although I hadn’t thought anyone but me and Pa knew the rare item he’d acquired. “A piece of jewellery, perhaps?”

His lip curled. “Don’t be stupid, girl. Something rare, that could get you into a lot of trouble.”

My guts froze. He definitely knew about Pa’s treasure. “We don’t take anything stolen,” I said, my lips barely moving.

His eyes glittered ferociously. “That’s a lie.”

“Hey!”

He flicked a hand and Brunna’s protest died on her lips.

I swallowed, thoughts tumbling. He saw me as a silly girl; I could use that to my advantage. “If my father accepted something stolen, he was wise enough to keep the fact from me. I don’t believe I can help you.”

The stranger moved back fractionally and I sucked in a breath. “Then I’ll speak to your father.”

“I said, he’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s on a buying trip.”

The stranger smiled as though he could taste the lie.

I swallowed and continued, “He’ll be back...” I needed to place Pa close enough to protect us, but not so close I’d be expected to produce him. “He should be back tomorrow sunset.”

The stranger’s pale, icy eyes skittered over my face as though he could read my lies. I forced myself to hold his gaze. “Then so will I,” he stated, spinning on his heel.

As the bell jangled behind him, I blew out a relieved breath.

Brunna sagged against the counter. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get rid of him.”

I forced a smile. “Don’t worry. Awkward customers are a fact of life.”

“What are you going to do if he comes back tomorrow?”

My fake smile widened. “I’ll think of something.” I strode around the counter. “You should get home. I’m going to close up for the day.”

“Will you be all right? Do you want me to stay?”

“Thanks, but no.” I had plans to make.

Brunna let me hustle her out. I fastened the shutters and slid the bolts home behind her (all freshly oiled; Pa couldn’t say I wasn’t taking care of the place), then went to check on my father. I’d run out of alternatives, but what lay ahead was mildly terrifying – could I really do it?

As I mounted the stairs, I hoped I might replace Pa better so there would be no reason to go to Muirland City and ask the mages for a cure; no need to escape the stranger with icy eyes, but there was no change. The dim room echoed with the sound of his slow breathing. From the doorway I could see the movement of the blankets over his chest. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

“I’ve made a decision, Pa. I have to go to the capital to replace a cure.” My heart beat hard, as though I might have to fight to convince him. But there was no fight left in the figure on the bed.

“Remedies from the apothecary and the doctor haven’t helped, so I have to try the mages.” My gaze darted to the cupboard in the corner. “And I’ll have to offer payment. Something the mages will be interested in.” I paused, hoping that suggestion might rouse my father to sit up in his bed and shout out his disagreement. He slumbered on.

I strode to the cupboard and lifted out the bundle inside, setting it on the wooden top. I caught my own gaze in the mirror set above the cupboard. I looked stricken, and well I might. Pa wouldn’t thank me for giving his treasure to the mages.

“There’s no alternative,” I whispered. My eyes, pale blue like my Nordin mother, stared solemnly back.

I turned my attention to the bundle containing Pa’s most precious possession. As I parted the folds of the blanket something small fell out, clattering onto the floor. I scooped it up to replace a necklace I’d forgotten about. It was a pendant made from an iridescent shape Pa had said was a dragon’s scale. My heart jumped with hope – might this be enough to buy a magical cure from the mages? I gripped the chain between my fingers and lifted it to get a better look. “Is it truly a dragon’s scale, Pa?” The figure on the bed made no reply, but Pa was always close-mouthed about the origins of what he brought to the shop.

Even in the dim light the scale seemed to glow, as though it had somehow drawn what little light was in the room inside itself.

I turned to the mirror and held the pendant so it dangled, twisting slightly, casting light around the room. It was beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I remembered Brunna admiring the jewellery in the shop. She’d be mesmerised by this. I swallowed. I knew better than to indulge in a fantasy that it was mine. Everything we owned was passing through. But every girl likes to pretend she’s a princess now and then. Pa would definitely not approve, but somehow my fingers fumbled to the ends of the necklace, made a loop around my neck and fastened it closed. The dragon scale nestled in the notch at my throat, continuing to glow. My skin appeared brighter, creamier. I leaned forward for a better look, then froze. The scale was warm. No – it was warming.

I scrabbled for the catch as the metal continued to heat, but my fingers couldn’t replace the fastening. It was far too small to tug over my head. My breath hitched. I couldn’t get it off. Pa would be horrified. I was too old to be this stupid – although in my defence, I’d never before touched goods that were enchanted. I slid a finger between the scale and my skin, my heart thudding. I hoped it wouldn’t keep heating until my head was burned clear off.

Then, over the pounding of my heart and the sighing of Pa’s sick breaths, came another noise. A chip-chip-chip resounding from the egg nestled in the blanket on top of the cupboard.

Shock held me still only for a moment, after which I scrabbled the egg free of the blanket we’d used to cover it.

My heart stopped entirely. A broad split had appeared across the surface of the dragon’s egg Pa had brought back from his travels.

It was hatching.