Page 19

It was close to midday when we decided to risk the flight home. I scribed my father before we left, requesting not only a stretcher for Hannity—there was no sign of infection as far as I could see, but she was barely able to put weight on her leg, and the potions weren’t doing a whole lot to cut the level of her pain—but also additional webbing, sealer, and numbing salve. If Damon’s plan to do all three of us at the same time eventuated, then we needed both Hannity and Rua to be at peak fitness—especially given the danger of the spell and the physical toll it would take on us all.

We started off slowly, keeping low to the sea and our speed down, until we were sure Rua’s wings weren’t going to shred, then gradually raised our pace and height. The hours ticked by slowly, and by the time we neared the aerie, I was shaking with fatigue and so damn hungry I could have eaten a whole damn capra—raw if necessary.

Me eat three , came Kaia’s thought.

You’ve enough time to hunt before dusk, but don’t dillydally.

What dillydally?

Take too long to hunt or eat.

Hunt fast, bring back to aerie. Gria hungry.

Gria is always hungry.

Truth.

We swooped toward the aerie’s landing tongue, the younger drakkons preceding Kaia. Gria once again greeted us enthusiastically, rubbing necks with her mother and demanding they go hunt.

The interaction between the two, the obvious love, hit me hard. What I was asking Kaia to do, what I was asking her to risk, was just too much….

Me chose , she said softly, not you.

But—

Am queen , she cut in. I must protect. I fail Ebrus. Will not happen again.

But Gria ? —

Will die, like Ebrus die, if gilded ones not stopped.

I drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. I could not deny the truth of the words, but I still worried about the risks.

You risk.

I don’t have a child.

Would not stop you. You queen too.

It was the second time she had said something like that, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I will never be queen. Not in the same way as you are.

But even as I said the words, the dreams rose anew to haunt the outskirts of my mind, and the bitter taste of bile rose up my throat. I clenched my fists against the heat that instinctively pressed against my fingertips; I would not lose my family. No matter what it took, I would protect them, even at the cost of my own life.

That queen thinking , Kaia commented.

I laughed again, unclipped my packs and all the harness bits and pieces, and then slid down her leg. After giving Gria the demanded eye scratch, I stepped out of the way as the two of them ambled toward the exit. Yara followed, but Rua remained, her mate leaving instead to hunt for them both. Her pain was a distant song that ran through the back of my thoughts; the long flight had taken its toll and torn more membrane. Thank Vahree I’d ordered more supplies to be brought up—I really didn’t have the energy to walk all the way down there and back.

“I’m hearing voices outside,” Kele said. “Sounds like the stretcher you ordered is here.”

“Let’s help Hannity out there?—”

“Hannity is capable of walking,” she cut in somewhat crossly.

I glanced at her. “No doubt, but why risk further damage and the possibility of not being able to ride Rua again?”

Her eyes widened briefly, then she glanced at Rua. “I swear, I won’t?—”

“You need two good legs to ride her, same as she needs two good wings to fly,” I cut in. “So, stop arguing, soldier, and let us help you out of here so I can get back and finish the repairs on your drakkon’s wings.”

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know.” She paused. “Is she in much pain?”

“Some.”

“But she’ll be okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

We carried her out, the shield shimmering softly as we went through. There were six soldiers waiting outside—four for the stretcher and two relief—and a number of packs sitting to one side. I was a little disappointed—more than a little, if I was being at all honest—that Damon wasn’t also here, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have other problems to deal with. I might be his wife, but I was not a priority right now—and maybe never would be.

I did not like the ache that accompanied that thought.

Did not like the implications.

“You want me to stay and help with Rua’s wing?” Kele asked.

I shook my head. “Go get some rest. You deserve it.”

Kele snorted. “So do you, Captain, but I’m not seeing you rushing to do so.”

I smiled. “With the title comes responsibility. Go. I won’t be that far behind you.”

She hesitated then lightly saluted and ran off after the stretcher bearers. I grabbed the three packs and carried them back through the shield into the aerie. The other drakkons who’d come here with Yara watched with wary interest as I patched the newly torn sections of Rua’s wing. While that was not unexpected, given how little interaction they’d had with humans until Kaia and I had intervened in the attack on their aerie, if we were truly going to build an army of fire-breathing dragons and riders, we needed them to trust us. Right now, while they would obey Kaia, they remained wary of us.

Of course, if we couldn’t find more strega witches willing to ride drakkons then it wouldn’t really matter.

Once I’d rubbed on the last of the numbing salve, I rinsed my hands with the last of my water, then scratched Rua’s eye ridge. “Keep that wing as still as you can for the next few hours.”

Will. Appreciate.

I smiled. “You’re welcome, Rua. Just don’t do something that stupid again.”

Won’t.

I gave her eye a final scratch, then picked up all the empty wrapping and salve tubes, shoving them in the pack and tossing all three into a corner, out of the way. I had my own to carry down and no desire to add additional weight. Not when I was feeling bone weary.

Once I’d strapped on my sword and slung my bow and quiver over my shoulder, I grabbed my packs and headed home. Night had well and truly settled in by the time I reached the gate, where I discovered that, for the first time in ages, the portcullis had been lowered into place. Obviously security measures had been increased, even for minor gateways that were never likely to be a point of entry for either the Mareritt or the gilded riders.

I hailed the guards, and, after a visual check, the portcullis was raised enough for me to slip under. One of the guards stepped forward and, with a crisp salute, said, “Captain, I’ve a message from Commander Silva for you.”

“And that message is?”

“Head immediately to your quarters and report in the morning.”

Relief spun through me. I needed food, I needed a bath, and I needed to see my husband—and not necessarily in that order. “Thank you, soldier.”

I returned his salute and continued on, making my way through the short tunnel, then across the courtyard and into the palace. The foyer was dark and still, and if not for the presence of various guards, it would have been very easy to believe the entire building was empty. I ran lightly up the stairs, my stupid heart racing at the thought of seeing Damon again. His magic shimmered over me as I approached the door, a familiar caress that felt as strong and real as the man himself. I nodded at the guard positioned at the midpoint between my room and the thermae—a new assignment, and perhaps one to prevent Damon’s aunt getting to come to family apartments—then stepped into my room. It was as quiet and as still as the rest of the building and utterly empty. Once again, disappointment shot through me.

That’s what I get for falling for a man for whom I would never be a first priority… except I didn’t fall. I was given. Big difference.

Even if my heart was suggesting the end result was the same—me, foolishly tripping along the path to caring. To loving…

Nope, I was not going there. Wasn’t even going to think about it.

I dumped my packs into the holding bin, then stripped off my weapons and hung them over the hooks. Once I’d taken off my boots and my jacket, I padded over to the scribe tablet and ordered a meal and shamoke, half smiling as Candra’s comment about never knowing when the family was going to scribe down for food echoed through my mind.

As I turned and headed for the bathroom, I noticed the symbols Damon had written on the floor now glowed with an odd, bloody luminance. I paused briefly, wondering if it was wise to approach a possibly active spell, but, rather unsurprisingly, curiosity got the better of me. Three steps away from the symbols, I hit a shield and was stopped. Light flared across its surface, its hue yellowish rather than the red of the letters—a warning, I suspected, rather than a threat. I raised a hand and pressed a finger against the magic continuing to tingle across my body. Light gathered where my fingertip met the spell, buzzing around it like tiny moon flies, even if their color was yellow rather than silvery. Frowning, I circled the symbols, keeping my finger against the shield as a guide; the moon flies trailed after my touch, reminding me a little of a falling star’s tail.

The symbols were completely encased. I rose on my toes and ran my finger up its surface to see how high it was; there was a slight curvature, suggesting it wasn’t so much a wall as a complete bubble.

Was this a mini version of the spell he would use to share my strega abilities with Kaia? Or was it something else?

The suspicious part of me said it was the latter, and the instinctive part of my soul loudly agreed. It was frustrating that Damon wouldn’t confide in me, but in truth, why would he? We might be married, we might be fire in bed and out, but it took more than sexual compatibility to build trust, let alone a relationship.

I dropped my finger and continued on to the bathroom, running water into the bath before stripping off and tossing my clothes into the laundry chute. A long soak in the hot water made me feel fresher, if no less tired. The food arrived just as I was tugging on a gown, one woman carrying a tray while her companion carried a large pot of shamoke. I thanked them both and helped myself to the latter, savoring the smell for several seconds before taking a drink. But as I sat down to eat, I spotted a sealed piece of paper with my name on it.

The writing was Damon’s.

Heart hammering unreasonably, I slid a fingernail under the seal and opened the letter.

My dear wife , it said, and I could almost hear his dry tone as I read that, I have gone to meet—and escort—the Angolan witches here. They had some trouble with their mode of transport, but we should be back by the morning. I’ve left a leather bracelet on our bed—please wear it. It will stop my aunt stealing your thoughts when beyond our room. I have also given one to both your parents. As stakes rise, it will be more important than ever that our secrets are kept.

It was simply signed, D.

I immediately rose and walked over to the bed. In the middle lay a plaited bracelet of brown and black leather with threads of red and gold—the colors of his house and mine—interwoven through it. Even without picking it up, I could feel the familiar caress of power emanating from it, and wondered if the darker leather had been soaked in his blood in order to hold his magic.

I warily picked it up; it seemed overly large for my wrist, but I nevertheless slipped it on. The pulse of energy running through the darker thread sharpened briefly, and the bracelet contracted until it sat snugly but comfortably against my wrist. I lightly pulled on it; the leather gave fractionally but didn’t move. It appeared that, at least for the moment, there was no taking it off. Which, given Gayl remained a threat to whatever Damon was truly up to, was not a bad thing.

I returned to the seating area, eating my meal and consuming the entire pot of shamoke, then stripped off the gown, climbed into bed, and went to sleep. This time, it wasn’t dreams of deception and betrayal that haunted me, but rather a sullen warning that our time was up.

Vahree was coming for us, and this time, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

* * *

I woke to the faintest brush of warmth against my lips. I stirred, caught the scent of warm spices and man, and opened my eyes. Damon lay beside me, his head on my pillow, his face inches from mine.

Almost instantly, the urge to wrap myself around him, to beg him to kiss me, caress me, lose himself within me, rose, but I held still. I’d already given too much of myself to this man and, until he opened up, I needed to slow things down.

“When did you get back?”

“About two hours ago. Had to report to your father, then make myself presentable for my wife.”

“The wife appreciates the cleaner presentation.”

His lips quirked. “But would not have rejected the dirtier?”

“Depends on the type of dirt we’re discussing.”

His soft amusement fell away. He knew I wasn’t talking about actual dirt but made no reply to it. Instead, he touched my cheek, then ran his finger down to my lips, leaving a tingly, burning trail in its wake. When his finger brushed my bottom lip, I closed my mouth around it and lightly sucked. Heat and hunger stirred in his eyes and echoed deep within me. My brain might be wanting me to slow down but my body definitely had other ideas. I released his finger, and it moved on, down my chin and neck, still trailing heated chaos behind it.

“What of the Angolan witches?” I asked softly, a slight catch in my voice. He might be doing nothing more than lightly touching me, yet it felt like I was being branded.

“They await our arrival in the caverns.”

His slow journey continued to my collarbone, sweeping from one side to the other, encompassing the shoulder I wasn’t lying on. I had the odd feeling he was determined to refamiliarize himself with all the parts of my body he could reach, and while I was not against such slow exploration, I also wasn’t sure I could stand the torture. I wanted this man with a fierceness that almost felt like desperation. And maybe it was, because if the dreams that had plagued me over the last couple of nights were to be believed, this moment, this perfect bubble of peace and desire, was all that we had left; life, war, and treachery were about to sweep it all away.

I licked my lips, saw the hunger in his gaze deepen, and once again felt its deeper echo within. “Why the caverns? Why not perform it here, given you’ve already marked all the symbols on the floor? Or do you need the drakkons’ presence rather than just their blood?”

“The latter, I’m afraid. There has to be a physical connection between the two elements we’re trying to combine for the spell to work.”

“Then if you’re not using the spell here, why does it still glow?”

“Because I’m still refining the process.”

“That may not be a lie, but it’s not entirely the truth now either, is it?”

He grimaced. “No, but I cannot say anything more just yet?—”

“That response is getting so fucking tedious, Damon.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He paused. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

He chuckled softly and, with one lone finger, continued to circle my left breast’s areola. It pebbled in response, and my breath caught in my throat. Vahree only knew, I wanted the man so badly... but I needed to ask my questions even more, no matter how fruitless that particular endeavor might be.

“And what of your aunt?” I somehow said, a quiver that spoke of the desire building within so very evident in my voice. “Won’t she be?—”

“I do not wish to talk about my aunt or indeed my father right now.”

“Then what do you wish, Damon?” I snapped back. “What part will I play in your future once the machinations that currently rule your life end?”

His fingers stilled again, and his gaze came to mine. For the briefest of moments, it felt like I was falling into a sea of blue. A sea that was warm, caring, and dangerously beautiful, filled with ghostly promises that couldn’t possibly be.

“What part do you play?” he echoed softly, somehow so much closer than he had been only a heartbeat before. “You are a light that shone brightly at the darkest point of my night, a promise of what might yet be. If you believe nothing else, then believe this; I will never relinquish you. You are mine, and only mine.”

Before I could question the oddness of that statement and the intensity with which it was spoken, his lips claimed mine. While the kiss was neither fierce nor hungry, it held an odd intensity. It felt like both a beginning and a message, one filled with a determination to assert his claim over body and soul.

Over the course of the next hour, it was a message he delivered to every part of my body, and it left me in little doubt that, no matter what the origin of the darkness haunting his every move, he was utterly serious about his vow.

I could only hope that Aric allowed him to keep it.

* * *

My mother sent a message for me to join them in their suite before we headed out to the aerie. I left Damon working on final preparations of the spell that continued to glow eerily on the floor and strode down to the other end of the hall to my parents’ suite.

Lenny, their longtime door guard, watched me approach, a smile touching his lips. He was a bull of a man, with a thick mane of brown hair tied up in a tail at the back of his head—following the newer fashion in hair styling rather than the more traditional plaited—and dark green eyes.

“Good afternoon, Lady Bryn,” he said, reaching for the door.

“Afternoon, Lenny. How’s the family?”

“Good, thanks. Rodkin is heading into military training next week.”

My eyebrows rose. “He can’t be old enough, surely.”

Lenny laughed, a warm rich sound. “Nearing sixteen he is, now.”

“Time flies.” I shook my head. “Do you know the name of his training officer?”

“Gert Hankin, I believe.”

“Then Rodkin is in good hands. Please send him my best wishes, won’t you?”

“I will, Lady Bryn. Thanks.”

He stepped back to let me enter, then closed the door behind me. The suite’s layout was a larger version of mine, though my parents also had an additional dining and a living room beyond the family ones so they could entertain guests less formally.

Mom stood near the window slit that looked out over the courtyard, the pale afternoon sun filtering through barely warming her skin. She turned as I entered, her face drawn. Which, given so many of her kin on Jakarra remained missing and the long hours she’d spent organizing relief supplies and evacuations, was not surprising.

What did surprise me was the anger. It blazed from her blue eyes and practically radiated from the pores of her skin.

I stopped cold, my heart lodging somewhere in my throat. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing.” She waved a hand. “Everything.”

“As statements go, that’s definitely not one of your clearer ones.”

Amusement briefly tugged at her lips but did little to ease the fiery fury in her eyes. “Sorry, between my fears and my seeress abilities deciding to light up, I’m a bit all over the place.”

“What are your visions telling you?” I asked, even though it wasn’t hard to guess given the dark threads running through my own dreams.

“Death comes to Esan,” she replied. “And so too does Aric.”