“It’s stunning,” she whispered. “Where did it come from?”
“It is my gift to you,” he said softly.
“A gift? What for?”
His dark eyes found hers and lingered. “What reason do I need to give a queen a gift? Not that it is nearly exquisite enough for you, but it was all I could find in Nillias on short notice.”
“Dalton, it’s beautiful,” she said, “but I cannot accept this.”
“I want you to have it. Please…a gift from my family’s kingdom to yours.”
She sighed and smiled. “All right then.” The deridam was now warming her stomach and she was starting to feel much better. “You know, Prince Dalton, I long for the day when this journey is over.”
“You, and many, many others—myself included,” Dalton said. “So what will you do at the end of your grand adventures in the world?”
She grinned. “Find new ones.”
Dalton laughed.
Silvia stared at him, looking at the sharp curve of his jawline and the way his hair kept falling over his shoulders. “And what will you do, Prince Dalton? What great adventures await you after you return to the life of royalty?”
His face became solemn as he met her eyes. “Finding something to keep me near you. Or maybe find something to keep me away. I haven’t decided which yet.”
“Why would you wish to be near?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“What man wouldn’t?” he said. “To be in your presence is akin to having the most powerful of blessings bestowed upon you. To be at your beck and call entices me to the core. I would love to watch as you age beautifully and become an old wise woman in your later years. I would know everything you would be willing to share with the world…or with me.”
Silvia couldn’t move; she was so captivated by his words. Finally she sputtered, “So then why would you want to keep yourself away?”
His eyes darkened. “I think you already know that, Silvia.”
“You’d keep away because of Keelan.” The idea of it saddened her profoundly, yet she understood. The drink running through her veins freed her tongue a little more, and she spoke from the heart. “Dalton…what if I did not want you to stay in some other place far off?”
“You have but to ask.”
A scent sought for her attention, and her dragon senses became alert. She recognized the smell of another dragon’s musk. Shaking her head, she rid herself of the notion that another dragon was nearby. The deridam must have worked wonders on her to make her imagine such things. Her mind raced to her husband: Keelan had committed adultery on more than one occasion, and then had nearly begged her to take another man to her bed to make them even. Her mind went back to the night in Nillias when she’d dreamed of being taken by a large male dragon and her breath caught. It had seemed so real, but she swayed her thoughts forcefully back to the man in front of her.
Her heart seemed to stop beating as she said, “I’m asking now.”
The prince said and did nothing; he only stared at her with a fierce countenance she couldn’t read.
She reached out and tucked some of his hair behind his ear so that she could see his face more clearly. “Why do you look at me so?”
“I am holding myself back,” he whispered in a rough tone. “The things I want to do to you are not fit for the wife of another man.”
Her breathing grew ragged as she contemplated what he was saying. Moving forward, she raised up on her knees to be eye to eye with him.
“What sorts of things?”
He watched her edge closer and he held his breath, hoping both that she would back away or that she’d come nearer still
“Silvia…” he managed to say before her mouth engulfed his. His self-resolve shattered and he drew her to him in a tight embrace. Her hands found the strings on his shirt and sought to untie them, as he untied the back of her already ruined dress. In moments they were bare to each other, naked as the day they were born.
Silvia couldn’t stop touching his body, feeling all the new curves and groups of muscles that were so different from what she was used to. He picked her up as though she weighed nothing and laid her down on the blankets. She grabbed him below and guided him to her lower pair of lips. He forced himself to slow his motions, afraid he’d hurt her. He eased into her and the look of bliss on her face awakened every fiber of his being.
His body pleasured hers until she was having difficulty keeping quiet. He covered her mouth with his to stifle her gasps and felt himself gathering for the climax he knew was fast approaching. Gazing into the emeralds of her half-closed eyes, he exploded within her, barely containing his own yell of pleasure.
Dalton stayed atop of her for a few moments, his sweat mingling with hers in the stuffy tent. After catching his breath, he got up and used her torn dress to clean her.
“I had Hans get you a shift to sleep in earlier, but I didn’t want to wake you up to get you to change.”
He handed her the shift, which she slid over her head. “Thank you, Dalton.”
He grabbed his breeches and donned them. Next was a clean shirt to cover how much he’d been exerting his body, though the sweat began to dampen the shirt right away. As the shirt came down over his torso a loud rumble rent the air, and the earth began to shake viciously.
Dalton was thrown to the floor, where he rolled over and sought to protect the queen with his body. The earth quit shuddering beneath them a minute later, and the loud reverberations were replaced with screams from the camp.
“Milady, are you okay?” Hans and Cambry tore the tent flap aside and thundered in. They saw Dalton getting up, reaching down to help up the queen.
“I think she’s fine,” Prince Dalton answered. “Nothing fell on us in here. What in the blazes of all Eerich’s hells was that?”
Cambry snorted. “It’d take a smarter man than me to tell you. I have no clue.”
Silvia sat on the stool Dalton had been seated on previously. “We must find out what that was,” she demanded as she absentmindedly fingered her new ring. “Whatever it is cannot be good.”
The group was still travelling, although it was well into the night. The horses had had few breaks, and the men were griping to each other in low voices about their want of food.
Quentin listened to them with half an ear. His skin was prickled as if something strange was going on. Seconds later, the horses went mad, bucking their riders as the ground commenced vibrating fiercely. He cried out as the saddle dumped him to the ground, the horse he’d been riding bolting into the night.
It was over just as fast as it had begun. Quentin clambered to his feet, frantically searching for Emaree. He couldn’t see her anywhere. All around him men were chasing after their horses and helping each other off the ground. One unfortunate soul had fallen into a crevice which had opened up in the earth and had been crushed by rocks that had tumbled in atop of him. Aldoa was busy helping men to their feet and seeing to the minor wounds they had incurred.
No Emaree.
Spotting her horse, he left the path they were following and ran after the beast. It was prancing around her still form as she lay unconscious at the bottom of a hill. Its feet were dancing dangerously close to her body.
“Shh, good girl,” he whispered to the horse as he ambled up to it.. He reached out cautiously and rubbed its nozzle as it pranced, and the horse visibly calmed. “There you go—good girl. That was scary, I know.” The horse stopped fidgeting and he led it to a nearby tree, loosely tying its reins so that it wouldn’t run off. He went back to Emaree, who was already starting to stir. “Hey, are you all right?”
She waved him off, getting to her feet. “I’m fine, Quentin. I think I hit my head when the horse reared up, but I’m good.”
“She was standing over you to watch out for you,” he said.
“Such a sweet beast,” Emaree said. She chuckled. “Now if only she hadn’t thrown me!”
A crack was heard above them, and as they looked up a boulder the siz
e of a wagon dislodged itself began tumbling down the hill straight towards them. With a yell, he tugged Emaree to the side to get out of the rock’s path. They toppled to the ground as it neared, and as they looked back, Emaree saw it going directly towards the mare.
“No!” she cried, flinging her arms out at the boulder. The horse whinnied and reared up in fright, but the boulder changed direction, coming to rest ten feet to the right of the animal.
Emaree stared at what she’d done, mesmerized by the amount of magic she had just used. Her arms slowly fell to her sides as Quentin gave her a look of amusement.
“Where did you get that?”
Aldoa appeared nearby, walking towards them at a brisk pace.
“Where did I get what?” Emaree replied, for it was to her the goddess was speaking.
“The bracelet that adorns your hand, child,” Aldoa responded tersely. “I noticed it the other day but regretfully did not pay it much attention.”
Emaree glanced down at the jewelry and then back at her.
“Let me see it,” Aldoa commanded, holding out her hand. “No need to remove it—just hold it up so that I may see it better with these old eyes.”
The witch lifted her arm towards the goddess in compliance. Aldoa put her face up close to the bracelet, peering at the whole contraption. “Where did you get this?” she asked again.
Emaree stuttered, not wanting to answer. “It’s um…it was a gift, milady.”
“A gift from whom?”
“I-I cannot say,” she responded.
Quentin folded his arms across his chest. “Have the witches visited you, Emaree? Did they give you this?”
She shook her head fervently. “This is to protect me from them.”
“Says who?” he asked.
Aldoa ran her finger along the part connecting the ring to the bracelet and inhaled sharply. “Don’t say it!”
Quentin looked at her quizzically. “But I thought—“
“Forget what I said,” the goddess said. “Emaree, can you describe the person who gave this to you?”
Emaree shook her head. “They…they were not in human form.”
“I want you to put an image of them in the very front of your mind,” Aldoa said. “I’m going to see if it’s who I think it is.” She placed her hands on Emaree’s temples. Shortly after, a smile spread across her face, relaxing her features. She took her hands away and clapped them together delightedly. “It is as I suspected!”
Quentin was more perplexed than ever. “And what did you suspect?”
“I cannot say,” said the goddess. “She would be in danger, so we cannot speak of it now—not out here in the open. When we are somewhere where we can speak more confidentially, I will tell you a story.”
Quentin stared at her, threw up his hands, and stalked off, grumbling about women.
Chapter Fifteen: Into the Fire
“Psst…wake up. Wake up, you fool!”
Natosha opened one eye groggily. “Ugh, what do you want, Clea?”
“I need you to snap out of whatever dream you’re having and get up.”
“Not dreaming,” Natosha mumbled angrily. “Saris spelled me.”
Clea rolled her eyes. “It is no wonder you wouldn’t wake up. I wish she had told me. I suppose that’s why your door was shut with magic as well. It took some thinking to get around that spell and open it.”
Natosha’s fogginess was evaporating steadily. She sat up and groaned from being stiff. “Damn you, Saris.”
“No time for damning anyone right now. You need to wake up, Natosha.”
“I am awake, woman. What more do you want?”
“Something bizarre is going on in your sister’s bedchambers.”
Natosha’s ears perked up at the statement. “What is it?”
Her sister-wife was at a loss for words. “If I knew, I would surely say so. Come with me and see for yourself.”
Glad to venture out of her muggy room and breathe in fresh air, Natosha rose to her feet and followed the other woman out of the room. They wound through the passageways, going higher up in the mountain until Saris’ door was before them.
“You went in without your sister-wife’s permission?” Natosha asked sharply. This was an unspoken and forbidden thing to do in the mountain: when the wives were not in their rooms no one else was allowed to go inside without explicit permission.
“When the earth began to shake, I feared for my fellow wives,” Clea said defensively. “I knocked, but when I didn’t hear an answer I went in to make sure she hadn’t been hurt.”
“I’m sorry, but what in the name of the Dark Moon are you talking about? Are you trying to get at me for our spat in front of the God of the Dead?”
Clea raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “No, that’s not it at all. Do you mean to tell me that you actually slept through the whole thing?”
The brunette folded her arms across her chest crossly. “I am not in the disposition for childish games, Clea. If you would kindly explain, I would very much appreciate it.”
“Oh, all right then. I was in my room and the mountain started shaking. I looked out my window and saw the lake sloshing about and the trees across the other side of it were moving up and down as though a river were flowing under them. I ran out and came straight to Saris’ room, and as I said she didn’t answer. When I went inside…well, let me show you.”
She cracked the door open, peeked inside, and then opened it so that she and Natosha could slip in. She shut the door quietly behind them, gazed at Natosha with a frightened face, and turned to point. Natosha’s line of sight followed Clea’s hand, and her mouth fell open as she saw what was scaring her sister-wife.
In the wall between Saris’ bed and the fireplace (whose fire was now softly glowing embers), was a crack. As she took in the entire thing, Natosha decided that the word ‘crack’ was not the right term. A rift had opened in the wall that was big enough to walk in. It was as black as the darkest hours of a starless night in the crevice, and tiny wisps of shadowy smoke drifted out of the top of it. A feeling of disquiet crept up Natosha’s spine.
“Clea, have you spoken of this to anyone?”
“No.”
“Then don’t. I don’t have an inkling as to what this could be or what is occurring in here, but until I do I think we need to keep this between ourselves.”
Clea bobbed her head in agreement, her tight bun going up and down in the back.
They left the room wordlessly. Their earlier argument was now forgotten in the wake of the odd discovery in Saris’ room. They walked away quickly, but the uneasy feeling followed them and prickled at the backs of their necks.
Saris opened her eyes. She questioned her whereabouts at first, but then she remembered.
She remembered everything.
A glance down at her still-naked flesh showed her that she had no cuts anywhere, yet her body was still streaked with blood. She shuddered as she recalled the pact with Eerich, but it wasn’t a tremor of revulsion by any means.
It was then that she noticed she felt dissimilar…altered in some way. She frowned, yet couldn’t seem to pinpoint why. She got to her knees and pushed herself up. Her body felt energized and renewed. She stretched and felt magic in every inch of her limbs. She stopped in awe, looking at her hands.
“It feels marvelous to have so much magic coursing through you, does it not?” Eerich said from the couch.
“I feel so alive,” Saris said excitedly.
“You don’t have the full extent of your powers yet,” Eerich told her. “The weaker your sister gets, the stronger you become. When you kill her, you will gain her full power.”
Saris’ smile dwindled. “Must I be the one to kill her though?”
He frowned at her from his perch on the couch. “You wanted the damn powers, and you will get the rest of them when you kill her. That is part of your side of the bargain, dear Saris. You will have it all when her blood stains your hands.”
“And if she dies
by the hand of someone else?”
His eyes darkened. “Do you really want to find out?”
“No,” she said quickly. “But we are in the middle of a war, and there could always be a chance of someone killing her before…before I can work up the nerve.”
“I am pondering if it would be best if I help you with her death,” the God of Evil said, tugging on his beard. “In this way I can ensure that your pact will not be broken.”
“Whatever you desire, my Lord,” Saris was quick to assure him. “If that is what you wish to do.” Her eyes lit up and she stood from the bed. “I feel much stronger than ever before, Lord Eerich, but tell me…are my powers any greater than hers yet?”
War Against the Realm Page 20
