A Tiny Flame

Kathryn swished the skirts of her favorite lilac dress, Sonny firmly perched on her shoulder, his small, scaly wings outstretched to keep him balanced, his front claws clutching his single gold coin protectively. She paused briefly next to the dark marble wall to admire her reflection.

           “I’m telling you, he tried to kill me!” Squeaked the tiny dragon from her shoulder.

           “Oh, rubbish,” Kathryn replied. “Why would he do that? You’re harmless.”

           “I’m also a quick way to get your dowry. Slay the dragon, get the princess, or whatever.”

           Before Kathryn could respond, Sir Gregory rounded the corner. He bowed deeply.

“Forgive me, Princess; I did not know you frequented this part of the castle. Allow me to escort you to wherever you are bound.”

           Sonny blew a puff of smoke in the knight’s face. Kathryn swatted him gently on the muzzle and replied graciously, “Thank you, sir, but I have an escort already. Good day.”

           She stepped (elegantly, she thought) around him, but not before she saw his clear blue eyes narrow in an unmistakable threat at her shoulder. She hurried a little faster down the hall and slowed only when she reached her own rooms.

           “You saw that, didn’t you?” Asked Sonny with a self-satisfied smirk.

           “And so what if I did? He can’t hurt you if you’re with me, and besides, what could I do? Do you like this dress, or do you think it a little loud?” She asked, looking down.

           Sonny slapped her lightly on the cheek with a wing. “I do not intend to be made into a dragon-shish kebab! You have a throne, don’t you? Use it, for once. Or find yourself a new dragon.”

           Kathryn turned to the mirror. She liked the dress; it looked as a princess’ should, even if the body inside did not. She sighed. To the throne-room, then, to do battle without swords for a dragon as small and frail as her courage.

           Sonny perched on her shoulder as she marched into the throne room, glad her long dress hid her unsteady feet.

           Her mother, father, and Lord Heketh, a representative of Scaliera, their western neighbor, sat around a table exchanging notes on some sort of official-looking document. Kathryn groaned silently as her mind slowly processed the scene: Lord Heketh was Sir Gregory’s father.

           Kathryn leaned back almost involuntarily, her feet instinctively making for an escape, but Sonny clutched her shoulder tightly and flapped his wings, propelling her forward.

           Hardly any of the courtiers glanced her way as she approached the negotiating table, but continued milling about in the throne room, some trading gossip, others currying favors with those in higher positions. Kathryn was used to feeling nearly invisible. She was royal, but only just; the throne would pass to whomever the Court of Advisors deemed most fit at the time of the current monarch’s death or retirement, so her status as Princess was barely titular.

           Her parents remained engrossed with their papers as she approached the table.

           She stood in silence for a few moments, too afraid to speak. Sonny coughed shortly, and her father looked up.

           “Yes, dear?” Asked her father with a slight note of irritation at being disturbed.

           Kathryn finally found her voice. “I need to register a complaint.”

           Her father raised his eyebrows and her mother actually looked up from her document.

           “Against whom, dear?” Asked her mother in a suspicious voice.

           Kathryn steeled her courage. “Sir Gregory.”

           That got Lord Heketh’s attention. His head jerked up. “Might I ask why?” He asked warningly.

           Kathryn found herself sorely tempted to back down, but Sonny’s claws gripped a little tighter on her shoulder, and she remembered the look in Sir Gregory’s eyes as he had stared threateningly at her friend. Too late to turn back now, she thought. She swallowed and put her hands behind her back to hide their shaking. She tried with moderate success to keep her voice from shaking as well as she declared in as confident a tone as she could muster, “For attempted murder.”

           A gasp ran through the assembled courtiers, though a moment before it had seemed no one was listening. Lord Heketh jumped to his feet, knocking his chair to the floor with a crash.

           The queen stood as well, though more gracefully, her face dark with anger thinly veiled by royal manners.

           “My apologies, Lord Heketh, for this incident. Kathryn is young, and so I have no doubt you will forgive her for this mistake.” The queen glared meaningfully at Kathryn, who opened her mouth in fear and confusion. She had expected surprise, maybe annoyance, or perhaps some concern. Not this.

           Her mother gripped her firmly by the arm and marched her from the room, Sonny crouched low on his friend’s shoulder.

The queen sat beside her daughter on Kathryn’s bed and explained tensely. “Lord Heketh is not really angry—happy, actually. He will use this ridiculous accusation to gain leverage on the trade deal. Stay out of business until you can be helpful, Kathryn; you are not ready to have influence or power.”

           Kathryn refrained from protesting that her actions had been to protect Sonny, not to steal attention. The queen seemed to sense her thoughts, though, and continued in a gentler tone, “We will smooth this over, but dear, it would be best if Lord Heketh didn’t see you until after the trade agreement is signed. Lady Harper will be at your outer door if you need anything.”

           Sonny let out a snort of smoke in the queen’s direction in response. Kathryn would have snorted fire if she could, but settled for a stony expression. Trying to keep the frustration out of her voice, she asked, “How long am I to stay in here?”

           Her mother looked apologetic. “However long Lord Heketh drags this out, dear. I will send word as soon as he leaves or the contract is signed.” She leaned forward and kissed her daughter’s forehead gently.

           Kathryn scratched Sonny’s tail half-heartedly as the door closed behind her mother with a snap.

           Sonny glanced up at Kathryn guiltily. “I guess this is my fault.”

“No; you’ve done nothing wrong. This is Sir Gregory’s fault.”

“Thanks for trying, anyways.”

Kathryn stroked his wing in response. Her eyes wandered to the window. It would be so easy to escape…no, she told herself sternly. You’ve caused your parents enough trouble today. It won’t be much longer; just wait and try to make things right.

The first day passed slowly. Kathryn and Sonny read, stared listlessly into space, and speculated over their time of release.

The second day, Kathryn looked more earnestly at the window and daydreamed of an escape.

As the third day neared its close, with a conspicuous lack of news from her parents, Kathryn felt the irritation of confinement chafe more intently. She tossed her unopened book aside, marched to the window, and examined the vines that stretched down the castle wall.

“They’re strong enough, right?”

Sonny shrugged his wings. “Probably. I can always help.”

“Sonny, you can’t carry a book longer than a hundred pages.”

“I can get help,” replied Sonny defensively. “Besides, this is the defiant move you need to gain leverage at court.”

“You don’t know anything about court politics, Sonny.”

Sonny snorted his disagreement and adjusted his wings irritably.

Kathryn looked down the long wall to the ground. It seemed so much higher up here than it did looking up from below. If she fell…but the thought of spending who-knew-how-many-more days in solitary confinement with her dragon made her angry enough to lower herself out of the window until only her arms held her. Sonny slipped out after her and hovered nervously.

Kathryn held her breath as she took one of her hands from the sill, the other still clutching it in a vice-like grip, and grabbed a sturdy-looking vine. As she shifted some of her weight to it, it snapped and with a scream, Kathryn found herself hanging from the window by a single, sweating hand.

Sonny grabbed the back of her dress in his claws and flapped his wings with all his might. It gave Kathryn just enough leverage to swing her free arm up and grip the window sill again.

Sonny, recognizing that further efforts were useless, released Kathryn and flapped away, calling behind him, “I’ll find someone!”

After several interminable minutes, a small bit of vomit, and many promises to do good for the rest of her life if she were rescued, Kathryn felt a small wave of relief as Sonny appeared at her shoulder.

“I got help! He’s below you!”

Kathryn glanced down, and her relief ebbed a bit from a combination of renewed vertigo and the realization that it was Sir Gregory who stood below, fumbling with a none-too-sturdy ladder.

After several more minutes, during which Kathryn lost the last ounce of feeling in her hands, Sir Gregory managed to lean the ladder against the castle wall. Its top rung fell short of Kathryn’s dangling feet by an arm’s width.

Sir Gregory called up, “Let yourself down a little! Use the vines; your dragon can slow you down too.”

Sonny screeched shrilly, “Can’t you come up and help?”

Sir Gregory mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?” Called Kathryn.

“I’m scared of heights!”

Sonny grumbled, but Kathryn had neither the intention nor the clarity of mind to make out what he said.

She closed her eyes and let her hands slip an inch. Sonny gripped her dress and beat his wings fiercely as she grabbed the nearest vines and let them slide through her grip. The ladder leaned dangerously to the side, Sonny screeched, and Kathryn clawed at the wall, heedless of thorns and bits of stone that cut her hands.

Sliding much too quickly down the wall, Kathryn’s flailing feet finally hit something solid, and while Sir Gregory secured the ladder from below, Kathryn locked her feet onto a rung, then the rung below, on and on, until her hands gripped the wood. Sonny released her and heaved a sigh of relief.

When she reached the ground, her knees gave out and she retched into the bushes, not caring that Sir Gregory wrinkled his nose in distaste. Sonny landed on her shoulder and began licking her hair, his most seldom-used gesture of affection.

When the world stopped reeling and the nausea subsided, Kathryn sat back and let the relief of having solid ground beneath her feet sink in.

Sir Gregory cleared his throat and bowed deeply. “Your Highness is most welcome for my aid.”

Sonny snapped back between licks, “You didn’t even come up!”

Sir Gregory knelt and said solemnly, ignoring the dragon’s comment, “Would you go for a walk in the garden with me sometime?”

Kathryn looked at him, astonished. “Why on earth would I do that?”

The knight looked hurt, so Kathryn corrected herself and continued more gently, “Why do you ask?”

“I saved your life-”

“You brought a ladder,” interrupted Sonny.

“You owe me an honor debt,” continued Sir Gregory, ignoring Sonny again.

“Are you blackmailing me?”

Sir Gregory looked deeply offended. “A knight would never! No, Your Ladyship, I am merely asking a favor, as someone who has done you a service.”

Sonny snorted distrustfully, but Kathryn regarded him thoughtfully. It might put the whole situation to rest, an outcome that sounded greatly appealing.

“Sonny has to chaperone.”

Sir Gregory winced and his expression tightened, but his voice was polite. “By all means.”

Kathryn concealed a smile. “His fire hurts.”

“Your company is worth the risk.”

The knight reached graciously to take her hand but withdrew his quickly when he saw their cuts. He stood awkwardly and motioned towards the castle entrance. “Perhaps you’d like to go get cleaned up?”

Kathryn stood shakily as well and nodded. “And a discussion with my parents.”

The two walked towards the castle gate, Sir Gregory leading his horse and dragging the ladder, Sonny perched on Kathryn’s shoulder, hissing occasionally in the knight’s direction.