“Damn you! What have you done? You stupid, stupid girl.”
She couldn’t stay up on her knee any longer. She dropped back to sit on the ground and the glow broke, but she could feel it tethering her to him. Then he blinked and the tether was chopped off as if by an ax.
“You think you can tie me to you?”
The pale blue color of his chest heated to an intense shade of blue. Siobhan braced herself for the incoming blast.
“You can’t kill me—you saved me. You’re responsible for my life.”
The confusion that passed over his face was almost comical. Then he laughed. “You are far more clever than I would have thought.” The bright blue on his chest faded away. “I don’t owe you a thing, and despite your little attempt at tying me to you, it won’t work. I’m far too powerful to be pulled in to a vow of protection by your little game. But you do amuse me. I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep you around for a while. I never swore to her bitchiness that I would kill you, so I have leeway. And she did give you to me to do with as I wish. In fact, one might say you owe me for not killing you. I think I’ll let you live.”
Relief rushed through her and she sagged into the dirt. “You’re not killing me?”
“Not today.” He leaned in, his head coming dangerously close. “But, girl, while I am not tied to you, your vow to me still stands. You have just tied yourself—life, labor and all—to the last ice dragon in Underhill. Best of luck to you.” He rose, reached out with his front claw and opened his massive fist, and scooped her and the bag of gold back up. “And, girl, take care to stay on my good side or I’ll eat you, laws of magic be damned.” His wings unfurled and Siobhan could do nothing but hang on as the ground below her disappeared into the distance.
Chapter Three
Doyle flew high above the abandoned underground palace of Cairngloss, cradling his new charge to his chest. As he flew he checked out the landscape, making sure all was well, before he brought his new charge into his lair. It didn’t pay to not be careful. He’d learned that the hard way.
The massive front doors of Cairngloss were built into the side of the mountain, but the entrance he used was on the other side of the mountain, well hidden from view. No one would find it from the outside. And no one would think that a dragon of his size and stature would be able to fit into the crevice. But no one in Underhill really knew any dragon secrets.
And he, and his brethren, intended to keep it that way.
On what he thought of as his side of the mountain, was a steep ravine that dropped far below the main entrance’s ground level. He landed on the ledge, opened his claw, and carefully deposited the damp bundle of village girl on the cliff side. His gold tumbled to the ground with her and he nudged it aside.
“Hey, girl.” He prodded her with the rounded side of his claw. “Wake up. We’re here.” But there was no response.
He bent his head and took a closer look, opening his second sight and looking deeply inside. The elvatian lass had been pulled out of hibernieth and forced to function without food or water. She’d pulled on the last of her stores to make that ridiculous pledge to manipulate him into taking her in, and now she was near death.
She still carried the dregs of the ice queen’s spell—the tips of her fingers burned with frostbite and her skin was blue and cold.
He sighed. What in all the lands of ice was he going to do with a near frozen village girl? Likely she was uneducated and he could see she had little magic. He checked her again. No, she was definitely unconscious. He had a choice—he could leave her somewhere to die of exposure, knowing she likely would never wake up again from this state. Or—he could take her in and nurse her back to health.
Despite what she thought, the rules of magic didn’t force him to take in every stray who pledged fealty to him. He smiled down at her. Actually, he thought she might even know that. She was just a feisty lass who refused to die.
He looked down at her near frozen body lying in a vulnerable heap on the stone, and made his decision. He respected her fighting until the end, for whatever cause. And, after seeing how Maeve was so pissed at her and whoever hadn’t shown up to rescue her, he had to know more of the story before even considering killing her. There might be an advantage in it for him.
And it wouldn’t hurt to have someone to talk to on a daily basis. How long had it been since he’d lived with anyone? The years stretched back to long before his tenure here in Cairngloss and he experienced a twinge of sorrow at the memories that came rushing in. He pushed it aside. Yes, a little conversation and a diversion from the ghosts of his memories might be a good thing.
It wouldn’t be easy. He still needed to stay on Maeve’s good side, and the queen thought he was going to kill the girl, but anyone this plucky deserved a chance.
Entering the narrow fissure in the mountain’s wall, he squeezed his body as he went, passing through the illusion of a solid back wall and on past his wards. Now that he was hidden from view, he shifted to humanoid, and walked back out through the illusion in the form of an elvatian man.
He’d take her in, but his secrets were still his own and he and his brethren had kept their shape shifting skills secret for millennium. Dragons were nearly gone from this universe and secrets were one of the few things keeping them from complete extinction.
He scooped up her still form, snagging his bag of gold for good measure. Her life-force was weakening. He didn’t have much time.
In the back of the entry cave he took her deeper in to his lair, bending and turning to the side in order to get her through the narrow entrance just large enough for a stooping gnome. He’d done some modifications to his side of Cairngloss, but not many. He hadn’t had to. Keeping the doors small meant larger predators would never be able to come in. And, given his ability to be whatever he wanted, a door built for gnomes was no problem. At least this palace had been for the taller Galatian gnomes and the doors were a good size for elvatians. Once past the sliver of entrance, the passageway widened out into a wide cavern heaped to the sides with piles of treasure.
He dropped the bag onto a convenient pile and took her deeper into the cave system, all the way to his bedroom. He liked the elvatian form and frequently spent time in it. Having hands and fingers was so much better for doing many mundane tasks, and this form took way less energy to maintain than his dragon form with its huge size. Even his cold fire was a tiny burning spark deep inside this humanoid shape, requiring much less fuel.
Her furs and leathers had been soaked with melting ice when he’d picked her up, but the flight through the frigid air had frozen the fabric to her body, and he struggled to peel off the layers. Normally he would have admired her curves, despite the fact that she was nothing but skin and bones, but he had to get her warm fast, or his decision to keep her alive would be moot.
“Where is it?” Leaving her naked on the bed, he opened up a drawer and dug through the pile of golden amulets and necklaces. “I know I stuck it in here somewhere.” Three drawers of jewelry later, he found it. “Ah-ha!”
He placed the amber warming amulet on its golden chain around her neck and nudged the spell. The central amber stone began to pulsate with heat. He placed her emaciated body under the furs and blankets on the bed and tucked her in. She looked lost in his large bed and an odd feeling came over him—would she make it?
He had no idea, and strangely, it worried him.
SIOBHAN WOKE UP HUNGRY, warmed by something heavy on her chest and cocooned deep inside a bed of furs. She sat up and her head spun. Pulling the bedclothes up around her bare shoulders she held still until she could focus and take stock.
The last thing she remembered was staring a huge dragon in the face and hoping he wasn’t going to kill her and now she was naked in someone else’s bed and wearing only a huge piece of golden jewelry that purred like a warm cat on her chest.
Trying not to panic, she looked around the room. Its walls seemed to be formed out of solid rock, and there were no windows to be seen
. The bed was massive, with a dark, carved headboard and a wooden frame, where once curtains must have hung. A single candle sat on the cluttered bedside table, the light of the flames glinting on more treasure than she’d ever seen in her life. More than she’d ever imagined she’d see.
Every surface of the large room had something on it. The floors were covered in costly wool rugs, woven in bright colors that spoke of wealth. Every surface on all four walls was packed with paintings, tapestries, and odd pieces of random furniture—five golden chairs were on one wall and half of a narrow side table hung from another bracketed by silver trays of varying shapes and sizes.
And every single table that was actually on the floor of the room—she counted six—had its own collection of shiny silver boxes and candlesticks. Or a pair of large vases with ornate flowers sketched in glowing colors. Or carved wooden trays overflowing with knickknacks, large and small.
Coming from the austerity of the northern villages, where any spare coin was spent on clothing or food, she’d never seen anything like it. The furs on the bed alone were equivalent to a year of her father’s income, let alone what everything else in the room was worth.
From an armchair in a shadowy corner of the room by the fire, a deep masculine voice rumbled. “So, you’re awake.”
“Oh!” She pulled the blanket up to her neck and moved fast, scooting back against the headboard, almost banging her head.
“Easy, go slow.” He stood up and came closer to the bed, stepping into the circle of candlelight.
His hair was a deep black, the candlelight picking out flashes of blue in the curls. His pointed ears indicated he was elvatian, but he was much more muscular than any Tuathan De Dannan, moving with easy confidence in the cluttered space. He had pale blue eyes that were crystalline, like hers, but the pupils were a black slit down the center. Like the dragon’s.
“The amulet has healed you, but you’ve been through a lot and your body may still be weak.”
“Who are you? And where am I?”
He smiled, his cat’s eyes crinkling up at the corners. “I’m Doyle, manservant to the dragon, Atavantador.”
And with those words it all came rushing back. Her bungled attempt at rescue. The blur of years lost in frozen hibernation. The loss of Bosco.
“I have to find my brother. He’s in trouble.” She moved to get up, but she was still weak and the furs seemed very heavy. “Where, for Danu’s sake, are my clothes.” She pulled just one blanket up and stood, weaving a little.
“Slow down, before you fall down. Your clothes have been washed and dried. They’re right here.” He pointed to a small chest where the clothes she’d been wearing lay neatly folded on top, with her pack lying close by. Even her sword was there. The queen hadn’t bothered to take it from her, she thought bitterly, that’s how little she’d felt threatened.
She stood up straight, clutching her blanket and eying the stranger. “If you’ll be so kind as to give me some privacy I’ll get dressed and be on my way.”
He was dressed in clothes the likes of which she’d never seen before: some type of denim pants and a soft white shirt with short sleeves. Could a hundred years have made that much difference in clothing? Maybe he’d used a portal and picked them up on another world. She certainly hoped so or else she was going to have a lot of trouble fitting into the world after her imprisonment.
He shook his head. “Maybe you don’t remember everything, but you swore your life to the dragon’s service. And if you value your life, you won’t be leaving Cairngloss.”
The rest of her memories flooded through. “The dragon? That wasn’t a dream?”
His cat’s eyes looked strangely sympathetic. “No, it wasn’t a dream.” He walked over to the door. “Get dressed and I’ll be right back with some food.” He left, and the cluttered room felt oddly empty.
She was on her own, Danu only knew where she was, if her family were still alive, and where Bosco was. She huddled in her blanket, suddenly cold despite the heat of the amulet.
He hadn’t come back for her. When the queen had finally melted Siobhan’s prison away, she’d been furious. She’d ranted and raved and made sure Siobhan knew: her little brother wasn’t coming. He was three days late and Siobhan was at the Winter Queen’s mercy.
The queen had said Bosco was still alive so that meant one of two things: either her little brother was in deep trouble—again—or he didn’t care enough about his big sister to come to her rescue.
And she didn’t believe that, no matter what the queen had said. Either way she would find out. And either way, she owed the queen a debt. A debt filled with the weight of the blood price of either a brother’s love or a brother’s life.
She took off the heavy gold necklace and left it on the bedside table. Feeling cold without its purring heat, she pulled on her clothes, one piece at a time. Her suede breeches felt softer than she remembered. Her shirt smelled like a crisp winter’s day, fresh and clean. Her boots had been polished and the laces had been replaced with brand new sinew. Even her vest, embroidered with love by her mother in bright red and green threads on the white, seemed brighter and more vibrant. She traced the intricate pattern of frost flowers, tears welling up in her eyes.
A hundred years lost. What must her mother and father think? What had happened in her village? Had the queen taken vengeance for the theft of her latest toy?
Siobhan sank down onto the bed, holding the vest in her hands.
What had she done? Saved Bosco only to expose an entire village to the evil of the Winter Queen? And what would happen to her now, sworn to a dragon with a reputation for scouring the countryside for maidens to devour?
“I’ve heated some soup for you.”
It all seemed so normal, but it wasn’t. There were no windows in the large room and she was being nursemaided by a man who looked like he should be breaking ice for a living. For such a big man, he moved with feline grace through the clutter, setting a tray on the small round table in the corner with two chairs that seemed to be the only uncovered surface.
“Thank you.” She quickly put on her vest, leaving her jacket on top of her knapsack, walked over and sat down in one of the chairs. There was only one bowl of soup and one spoon. “Aren’t you eating?”
“It’s all for you. We need to get your strength up.” At her concerned look he added, “I ate earlier, don’t worry. I’m taking you on the tour after this and I don’t want you collapsing on me.”
She spooned up deer meat, vegetables, and broth, letting the hot broth warm her insides. “Mmm, this is delicious. Did you make it?”
“Let’s just say I had it flown in.” He smiled at her and she warmed even more. He had nice teeth, clean and white, and very sharp.
She swallowed. “Atavantador brought this. For me? But why?” Why would the dragon, who’d made it clear that she wasn’t his responsibility, go to all that trouble?
“Dragons are actually very lazy and it was easier to fly to the nearest village than to let you starve. We don’t actually have much of a kitchen here, just a cold storage where I keep a few things.”
“No kitchen?”
“There’s one in the palace proper, but it would have to be cleaned out. It’s, um, rather a mess at the moment. The last occupants were goblins. And besides, it’s a pretty far trek to get there.”
“Palace?” There was only one palace near her village, the Winter Palace. She shivered. “Where are we?”
“We are tucked away under the mountain of Cairngloss.”
She stopped eating. “Cairngloss? That’s leagues away from the Winter Palace across the Giant’s Shoulders.” They must have traveled for hours and hours to get here, flown over the wide mountain range and the Forest of Pines. And she didn’t remember any of it. She looked around the room with more knowledgeable eyes.
Cairngloss had been built thousands of years before by the Galatian gnomes, dug out of the insides of a massive mountain in the middle of the Forest of Pines. And abandoned lo
ng before she’d been born. “My people avoid this place. It has a—” she caught herself and substituted “—a reputation.”
“It wouldn’t be about a certain dragon, would it?”
“Yes. Among other things.” The heat of a blush crept up her neck. “It’s also supposed to be haunted.”
“It is, but the ghosts are all in the main palace. Nothing will bother us here. Even ghosts leave dragons alone.” He stood up. “Finished?”
She looked down at her empty bowl in surprise. “I ate that fast.” She felt a lot less wobbly, the warm energy of the soup filling the hollow place in her stomach. Amazing what a little food and sleep, and being warm and dry, would do for you. “It’s been so long since I’d eaten, I think I’d forgotten I was hungry.” She smiled at him and he smiled back.
Warmth zinged along her nerves and she ducked her gaze away from the strange intensity of his eyes. “Thank you,” she managed to say. “I was really out of it.”
“A hundred years of hibernation will have that effect. I once hibernated for over two hundred and fifty and when I woke up, I ate an entire herd of cattle.” He winked.
“Really?” She laughed. He was funny and charming, and she had that odd feeling again that she’d talked to him before. “A whole herd? Not sure where you’d put all that food.”
What he was doing serving the dragon was anyone’s guess. She looked closer at him. With all that muscle under his hunter’s garb of light shirt and vest, he was much bigger than any of the Tuathan. He could be Fir Bolg, but she thought he was too tall for that. Not that she’d ever met one. There weren’t too many of them left, just a few down in the Black Forest far to the south.
“You’ll see. You think you’re full now, but we’ll take the tour and give that soup a chance to fill your bones, then I bet you’ll want your own cow. Or maybe two.” He stood and offered her his hand. “I recommend a jacket. There’s no heat and Cairngloss is entirely underground. Now, I’ve told you my name. You should tell me yours.”
Caged: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 4) Page 3
