In the Time of Dragon Moon by Janet Lee Carey Page A

was a fabrication to lure me to his room. The
Adan-duxma
said:
Adans heal the wicked and the righteous alike.
My father never lost his focus when he’d mixed the queen’s cures, despite her brutality. I needed the competence to mix this cure without bile rising in my throat, but I couldn’t calm myself.
    I set out my mother’s pinch pot bowl filled with water, my father’s leather pouch of sacred earth. Breathed in the light breeze whispering from the still open window, lit a candle, and leaned into the power of the four sacred elements for balance, hoping that would be enough.
    The small evicta seeds were night black in the pale onyx mortar. I’d used evicta for the queen’s pain, and once or twice to treat Bianca’s headaches back in Pendragon Castle. But the king’s guard hadn’t let Father use the painkiller on the spit boy with the severed hand. What was Prince Desmond’s trivial little headache compared to that boy’s wretched pain? I felt my anger boiling up again and glanced over the four elements for help.
You can do this.
A true Adan heals the wicked and the righteous alike.
    Head down, I chanted evicta’s name to release its potent power, crushing the small seeds with Father’s heavy stone pestle. The door opened and shut again with a thunk. I knew who it was before looking up.
    Too late to stop him. The prince was already in my herbarium.

Chapter Ten
    Pendragon Summer Castle, Dragon’s Keep
    Egret Moon
    August 1210
    H OW LONG DOES it take to answer a summons?” he said, coming toward me.
    â€œI was only just told you have a headache, Your Royal Highness. I am mixing your medicine now.”
    He pressed up close to me at the table. “What is that stuff?”
    â€œSeeds that will cure your head pain,” I said, crushing them harder, wishing I could do to him what I was doing to the seeds.
    â€œI like it when you lean over like that.” He was eyeing my low-cut gown. I straightened up, quickly. The prince grabbed my wrist and removed the pestle from my hand. He dropped the pestle by the mortar with a thud, crushing me against the worktable. “Do you remember when I found you in Devil’s Boot, Uma?”
    My eyes were on his chin. I did not look up. “Yes, Your Highness.”
    â€œYour father made you dress like a boy. He worked you like a slave. I saved you from that.”
    Saved me? You abducted us!
    â€œI thought you would want to thank me for the favor,” he said, running his free hand up to my chin. He pinched my jaw, forced my head back, and pressed his thick lips against mine. I tasted the fried fish and ale he’d just downed for breakfast. I shouldn’t move. You do not cross the king’s son; still, I pushed him off.
    â€œYou should know better than to push me away, Uma!”
    Thumping sounds came from the window behind us as something large flew past. The sound vanished as quickly as it had come.
    Think. Make some excuse.
“Your Royal Highness, I cannot allow myself to be with you in that way.”
    â€œWhy not? What’s the matter with you?”
    I was slowly inching back. “I cannot give myself to another.”
    He grabbed the stone pestle. “Come here or feel this on the back of your head.”
    I ran. He lunged at me, swinging the heavy pestle. I ducked, but not low enough. The stone pestle cracked against the side of my head. I reeled from the pain. He pushed me to the floor, straddled me, and held my arms down against the planks.
    â€œWell now,” he said, smiling. His dark hair fell about his plump face as he leered down. Head throbbing, I struggled under his bulk. Lights flitted around us.
Don’t pass out!
Breathe.
I couldn’t suck in enough breath under his heavy weight. He shifted, uncoiling himself like a snake, and slid down, lying on top of me as if my body were his bed. I screamed. He clamped his hand over my mouth.
    I squirmed under him, tried to