Crane

Crane opened the door to find the bodyguard – Creel – Cara – her sister – at the door.

And she slammed it shut again in a blink.

Heart racing, she pressed her back against the solid wood and panted in disbelief. She was here. Creel.

Cara! Her name is Cara!

But she couldn’t think of her as Cara. She was Creel, bodyguard to Lady Sheenavora. Not a flesh and blood sibling. There was no way.

It was impossible to reconcile the two. Creel was loyal to the royals. The royals were lying, thieving… thieves! They stole the throne and broke the land. And Creel supported them. Sure, they had lied about the whole thing, but surely people had tried to tell her the truth. And she’d attacked Cadrin, and-

“In the name of Lord Fordenathrain Sorynna, open this door, or I’m breaking it down!”

Crane had forgotten about Creel. She peered out the window next to the door and saw her standing on the porch, face stony.

Thank heavens the dragons had the sense to flee.

Rysind chirped worriedly.

“I don’t know, Rysind. I don’t want to get arrested. I’m going to have to let her in.”

Rysind let out indignant trills and protested loudly, as she was so fond of doing.

“Well, you’ll have to hide.”

Rysind snarled grumpily and flew away, probably to hide in the sleeping room.

Crane breathed out, long and slow. And a ridiculous, awful, horrible, dumbest plan ever formed in her mind.

Well, maybe not that bad, but still.

Another knock. “Crane Nightcrest, open this door now or I’ll have you arrested!”

Vensgone. She knows my name. And how did she find me?

“Three…” Creel began calling from the porch. “Two…”

Crane fluttered her lips.

“One…”

Crane flung open the door, leaned against the frame, and crossed her arms. “Creel. How did you find me here?”

A slightly startled looking Creel recovered her balance and took in Crane’s cool façade.

“I’ve come to find answers,” she said.

Creel

* ●●

It wasn’t often that Creel demanded a door be opened and the occupant of the house came out looking annoyed, as if Creel was some nasty bug instead of someone with the authority to order their house burnt to the ground. Yet this – this Lowlander, who could be hanged for her crimes, dared to do exactly that.

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Crane relaxed against the door frame as if this were nothing more than a pleasant afternoon chat between two friends.

“If you come into my house, I’ll run you through,” she said calmly, “Lord Forden or no.”

Creel felt anger boil to the surface. “You impertinent –“

“- Unless,” Crane broke in, “you’re willing to listen.”

“Listen to what?” Creel hissed impatiently. “You have absolutely no right to –“

“Listen to what I have to say.” Crane interrupted again.

Creel felt annoyance burn within her, but she tamped it down.

“Okay, spill. I’m listening.”

Crane shook her head. “Inside.”

“Wha-?” It was Creel’s turn to shake her head. “You Lowlanders think you can just order us around.”

Crane frowned. “Inside, Cara.” She muttered the last word under her breath, but Creel caught it anyways. Her temper was really flaring now.

“Look, Crane, I don’t know what’s going on, but I mean to find out. Boss me around, threaten me, call me – whatever you just called me, but any plot that you have is going under once I’m done with you.”

Crane nodded patiently through Creel’s deluge, and she almost lost it.

I’m supposed to be intimidating! She should be fearful and respectful because I have the authority to have her skinned alive!

But that Crane certainly didn’t act respectful in any way, shape, or form.

Creel took a deep breath. “Okay, then, Crane. We’ll go inside.”

Crane smiled. “Good. Right this way.”

She led Creel into a large room with a long wooden table and open shelves of jars. Several drying plants hung upside-down from the ceiling’s wooden beams and gave off a tangy, spicy scent.

Herbs, probably.

Then Creel stopped short and stared. There, on the table, was a dragon. An honest-to-goodness dragon, complete with bat-like wings, a delicate snout, large jewel-like eyes, and an array of glittering rusty red scales.

“You – you…” She couldn’t find words. “You traitor!” She burst out. “You’re harboring a dragon, against the decree of Lord Forden.”

Crane smirked. Didn’t anything ruffle her?

“I am not harboring a dragon.”

“Uhh…” Did she see the thing on the table? “Yes, you are.”

“On the contrary, I’m not. I’m harboring many dragons.”

A swarm of teal dragons burst from the ceiling beams as Crane spoke. Creel felt her mouth drop. She searched for words but found none.

“Crane Nightcrest, I’m going to have to arrest you for treason against the royals Sorynnas.”

Crane nonchalantly sat down on a stool. “You said you’d listen. You can’t do anything until you do what you said you would.”

Creel growled. This girl was annoying. “Okay, then. I’m listening. Be quick about it.”

Crane sighed. “I can’t be quick about it. It’s a long story.”

Creel glared. “Try me.”

“Okay.” Crane let out her breath in a rush. “We’re twin sisters.”

Creel blinked. Crane was looking at her, waiting for a reaction. She blinked again. And burst out laughing.

“You really think I’m going to believe that nonsense? I’ve heard the story a thousand times: a long-lost twin shows up? That’s fairytale, Crane. I’m not falling for it.”

Crane reached down and pulled out a paper. “Then can you at least believe this?”

Creel looked at the papers. Old, wrinkled, smudged. Not at all attractive and hardly looked worthwhile to read. She sighed and skimmed the page.

And froze.

For a second she couldn’t feel or think or hear anything.

“General Thrain, Lord Forden’s great-great-great grandfather, killed Merwyn?” Creel felt her pulse race. “I can’t believe you Lowlanders. You’d go so far as to forge a document to try and prove them villains?” She slammed the papers down in disgust.

“I don’t know if we’re sisters, or if this document is true. But what I do know is that harboring dragons is illegal, you threatened me, and your brother attacked Lady Sheena, my charge. And you’re both going to prison.”

Crane leaped from her chair with sudden fire in her eyes. “If you touch Cadrin, I’ll personally throw you in the moat!” She snarled, suddenly deadly.

Creel smirked. That was her weak spot. “Ah, yes, Cadrin. Your brother. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to him, would you?”

Crane had a wild look in her eyes, a dangerous light. “Creel, I swear to the Seven Cities that if you touch him –“

Creel shoved a chair at Crane, throwing her off balance, and raced out the door, panting. She mounted her horse in a swift motion and kicked him into a gallop. Behind her, Crane yelled something.

But Creel was already gone.

Crane

* ●●

Crane fell to one knee and sobbed. Cursed, vensgone royals. Her own sister was now riding to betray them.

Things were going to get ugly.