wanted to roar. She wanted to flee. But no. She must remain silent. She must alert no one. Had anyone heard her tables falling over? Would anyone burst into this room, see her like this, see the monster she'd become?
Silence, Gloriae, she told herself. Breathe. Think. Calm yourself. Do not panic.
She shut her eyes, forced deep breaths, and imagined herself as a girl again. She forced the image of her human form into her mind. A girl, slender but strong, of golden locks, of green eyes, of marble skin. She took deep breaths and opened her eyes.
Once more she was a girl.
"Was it all a dream?" she whispered. No. She could see claw marks on the floor, and her room was a mess. Gloriae trembled. Cold sweat drenched her, soaking the shirt under her breastplate. She had never known such terror, not in all her battles.
A thought struck her. She tugged open a drawer and grabbed a leather pouch. Inside were crumbled ilbane leaves. Fingers shaking, Gloriae reached into the pouch and touched the leaves. She yelped, dropped the pouch, and pulled back her hand. She stared at her fingers. They were red and blazed as if she'd touched open flame.
Sun God... I'm infected.
Gloriae clutched her head. She understood what had happened. Lacrimosa had given her the disease, the curse. Gloriae now carried that evil within her.
She too had become a weredragon.
Gloriae began to weep. She curled up on her bed, hugged her knees, and sobbed. She had never cried so much in her life. She was a freak now, diseased and monstrous. How would she continue? How could she face her father again? How would she ever get married, have children, raise a family? Would her children inherit this curse? She wanted to scream, to call for help, but dared not.
A knock sounded on the door. "My lady?" came May's voice. "My lady, are you well?"
"Leave me!" Gloriae cried. She rose to her feet, frantic, hair wild. I must hide this mess, she thought. Nobody must know. Nobody must ever know.
Gloriae nodded. Yes, yes. She would keep it secret. She would tell nobody. How would they know? If she never shifted again, they could not. It was simple.
She allowed herself a wild, weepy smile. "I can hide this."
She placed a rug over the claw marks on the floor, righted her furniture, and arranged everything as it had been. Perfect. Finally she spent a few moments fixing herself. She removed her sweaty clothes and brushed her hair. She pulled on leggings, a cotton shirt, a leather belt, tall boots—her clothes of battle. She owned no gowns or dresses. She had never been much of a girl, she thought, but now she wanted to be nothing more.
"May!" she called.
Her handmaiden stepped into the chamber, and Gloriae pulled her into an embrace.
"Hold me," she whispered, trembling. "Tell me it'll be all right. Please." Tears filled her eyes.
They sat on the divan, and May held her and smoothed her hair, and Gloriae slept in her arms.
She woke up to discover that night had fallen. May slept against her, her arms around her. Gloriae gazed upon the girl, her best friend since childhood, her only friend. I won't let you down, May, she thought. I won't let evil fill this world. You're my friend. You're pure and good. How can I let you live in a world so dangerous, so cruel?
Gloriae knew what to do. She had known for years perhaps, but never dared. Tonight she would dare.
Moving slowly, she wriggled out of May's embrace and placed a blanket upon the girl. Eyes narrowed, she silently put on her armor: her breastplate of steel, molded to the curve of her body, gilded and jeweled; her helmet, its visor a golden mask of her face; her greaves and vambraces, their steel bright. Finally she donned Per Ignem, lifted her shield, strapped her crossbow to her side, and left her chamber.
She found her father in his hall. He sat upon the Ivory Throne, talking to the gaunt Lord Molok. When Gloriae entered the hall and walked across it, the two men turned to face her. Molok wore no helmet today, and she could see his ashen face, sunken eyes, and slit of a mouth. Her father was frowning.
"Father," Gloriae said when she reached his throne. She slammed her fist against her breastplate.
He nodded. "Daughter."
"Take me to the Well of Night."
Dies Irae rose to his feet, his face reddened, and for a moment Gloriae thought that he