Dragon's Kiss (The DragonFate Novels Book 2)

by Deborah Cooke

  Her breaking it was infinitely worse.

  Because as soon as the scale snapped, Kris’s flight faltered. His wings stopped and he arched his back as if in agony. His tail drooped and his eyes closed.

  Then he fell out of the sky, just as he had when she had poisoned him, but this time Bree feared he was lost forever.

  Kristofer felt as if he’d been sliced open and seared with liquid fire. The pain from his broken scale was excruciating, far beyond anything he’d experienced before. He wondered if this was how Bree had felt when she’d lost her wings—then the pain drove out all thought. He lost the rhythm of flight and felt himself falling.

  He flapped to catch himself, struggling against the agony and fearing he wouldn’t be able to do it. He didn’t want to disappoint Bree, much less abandon her in Fae. He didn’t want to let down his fellow Pyr, but he felt a toxin sliding through his veins and feared it would finish him. Fighting would only make the assault faster.

  In that moment, Kristofer realized he could feign the extent of his injury.

  That was one way they could regain the element of surprise.

  Kristofer folded up his wings and pretended to lose consciousness. He fell hard against the earth and that hurt, too. He heard Bree call his name but ignored it. He had to make this look good. He shifted to his human form, then back to his dragon one, forcing himself to cycle between forms as the Pyr did when seriously injured. All the while, he did his best to look as if he were at death’s door.

  He decided to “die” in his dragon form, even though that wasn’t how it actually worked. Maybe that would give Bree a clue that he was faking it. Maybe the Fae didn’t know anything about how the Pyr died. Either way, he wanted to be bigger and stronger when he sprang his surprise.

  When he finally stilled, there was silence in the court.

  Kristofer didn’t move.

  Finally, he heard Bree’s whisper. “Can I say goodbye?” Did her voice quiver because she understood what he’d done and was acting, or did she really think he was dead? As much as he didn’t want to deceive her, he also needed to ensure their safety, whatever the price.

  Kristofer heard Maeve’s assent, then felt Bree fall to her knees beside him. He felt the weight of her hands land on his chest, her fingertips brushing across the bare flesh where the arrows were buried. She ran her hands over his scales, her distress obvious in the racing of her heart.

  Bree pulled the arrow heads from his flesh and he felt his blood gush forth, but otherwise gave no sign of awareness. She caught her breath and Kristofer felt two salamanders take refuge beneath his bulk.

  To his surprise, Rhys and Hadrian began to breathe smoke. They created a dragonsmoke conduit between him and them, but instead of draining his energy away, as the Slayers had routinely done to the Pyr, they pushed their vitality into him. Kristofer felt their energy flow into him and understood that they knew he was their sole chance of escape—and that they didn’t care what it cost them to help him. He felt the power of the poison retreat steadily yet knew that Maeve was unaware of what her captives had done. They were hidden beneath his scales in salamander form, the thread of dragonsmoke so thin that no one was likely to notice it.

  That they were beneath his scales reminded him of something.

  But before he could act upon it, Bree surprised him. She began to hum an old Norse lullaby, as if she’d ease him to sleep. Kris almost gave himself away in his surprise. He hadn’t heard that lullaby since the injury to his hands, since he’d been in that field hospital. He hadn’t seen any of the staff there because his eyes had been bandaged, but he remembered the one nurse who’d always come to him when he was having nightmares. She’d sat beside him, the weight of her fingers on his shoulder, and reassured him in Norwegian. Every night, she’d sung that lullaby softly to him until he fell asleep.

  And now he heard her voice again.

  Bree had been that nurse. And despite all her tough talk, she was as much of a romantic as he was. She had just as much of a kind heart and an honorable soul. They were both warriors to their marrow. She wasn’t his destined mate, but she was one of the treasures of the earth. She’d gotten him through a dark time, without knowing his name or his nature.

  He might not be able to convince her that they could build a future together, but Kristofer would ensure that Bree had what was most precious to her—her sister.

  The timing was perfect. Bree faced his chest and she would block the view of anyone else behind her. It was as if she’d known the perfect place to stand. Maeve and her warriors were behind his back. He had to act before Maeve even considered reading his thoughts.

  Kristofer rolled slightly to his back and groaned as if he was dying. The move let Bree see what had been hidden beneath his scales since their first fight.

  “Sig-runes thou must know,

  if victory thou wilt have,

  and on thy sword’s hilt grave them;

  some on the chapes, some on the guard,

  and twice name the name of Ty.”

  He still had Bree’s sword, and it was a powerful one. He knew she would seize the opportunity and make it work, because that’s exactly what he would have done.

  It was going to get them out of Fae.

  When the blue shimmer stopped and faded away, Kris was in his dragon form. In a way, it was worse to see him stretched out across the ground, inert—as a dragon, he should have been soaring through the sky. As a man, Bree could have believed he was sleeping. But there was no avoiding the fact that the dragon had been felled.

  The sight sickened her and Maeve’s triumphant laughter was even worse. Bree wondered if his scales would dull and their color fade, then hoped it didn’t happen soon. She didn’t want to see him like that, or remember him this way.

  Funny how she’d known that he would die before her, but now that he had, she felt cheated. She wanted all the days and nights together, no matter how many there might have ultimately been—if they hadn’t done what was right and returned to Fae. She knew that there would never have been enough of them, but this was far too few.

  Bree saw the future with total clarity. Maeve wasn’t going to let any of them go. The rescue mission had failed. She’d never escape with her sister and the two Pyr, they still didn’t know where Theo was, and she wouldn’t betray Kris’s trust by leaving his friends behind.

  This would be the end for all of them.

  Should she kiss Kris? Would that be better than nothing? Would she be able to leave Fae to deliver his soul to Valhalla, or would Maeve compel her to surrender it here? Bree didn’t know. The stories didn’t talk about this intersection of realms.

  She just wanted Kris to live.

  She dropped to her knees beside him, with Maeve’s permission, and pulled out the arrows, one at a time. His blood flowed, that telltale sign of mortality, and she wished she could have wept at the sight of it—but Valkyries shed neither tears nor blood. She touched her lips to the wounds, wishing she could have had the chance to try to heal him, remembering how even the fake firestorm had helped him. She felt the two salamanders moving with agitation in the pouch hung from her belt. She loosened the ties, wondering if there was some Pyr ritual they had to practice and not wanting to interfere. They slipped from the bag, gleaming emerald and ruby, then disappeared beneath the scales of their fallen fellow.

  Bree had seen Kris injured before, in that field hospital. She wished she’d known then what she knew now, because they could have had those sixty years together instead of three days. But then, she hadn’t been ready to become involved with any mortals, not before she met a stubborn dragon who changed her mind.

  She wished she’d told him the truth about the war, but it was too late. All the same, she sang the old lullaby softly, remembering those nights, and ran her fingertips over his gleaming scales. She’d never felt regret before, not like this, not so that she wished she’d chosen differently. Kris had taught her that. He’d taught her to savor the moments and actually live, instead
of going through the motions for all eternity. He’d taught her that her affection for Siegfried had been a pale shadow of what she was capable of feeling.

  She’d mourn her dragon warrior for all time.

  And it wouldn’t be long enough.

  Kris sighed and shifted slightly, and her heart leaped with hope. But it was just his weight settling against the ground, the way corpses sometimes moved in the morgue.

  Or so she thought until she saw the glint of steel beneath his scales.

  That hadn’t been visible before.

  Bree flicked a glance up to Kris’s face. There was the barest shimmer of blue between his lids and she was suddenly convinced that he was watching her.

  She understood then.

  He wasn’t dying.

  He was faking the extent of his injury.

  That was her sword. She remembered dropping it and wondering where it had gone.

  He’d had it all this time!

  He was counting on the element of surprise.

  Bree was on board with that. She moved before Maeve could discern her thoughts. She seized the hilt, leaped to her feet and spun to slice off the head of the Fae warrior just behind her. The warrior dissolved into a spill of silver, like mercury flowing to the ground, but Bree had already attacked his companion. Kris roared and breathed dragonfire as he came to life again. He fried the front ranks of the Fae, astonishing them all with his sudden recovery.

  Maeve stepped into the blackened middle of her court and raised a hand, sending a beam of lightning directly at Kris. Where did she get the magick? Bree looked. Instead of aging this time, Bree felt a ripple in the air and saw a flicker of silver light. When she looked back, the red string around Kara’s wrist had dissolved. Kara shifted shape with a bellow. She drew her dagger and slashed at the Fae warrior beside her, slicing him open like a sack of grain. When the spill of silver shone against the blackened ground, the other warrior released Kara and ran.

  Maeve fled, disappearing into the ranks of the Fae.

  “Don’t leave me behind!” Kara shouted.

  “To me!” Bree cried in reply. She slashed and fought, slicing down the warriors on either side. Kara did the same, working her way toward Bree so they could fight back to back. Kara was ferocious. They felled eight more Fae warriors and the court was in flames when Kris swooped low to snatch up both Bree and Kara, much to Bree’s relief. He was bleeding copiously and not nearly as strong as Bree could have hoped.

  Meanwhile Kara paled as she looked beyond Bree, where her wings should have risen high behind her back. “It did happen,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I thought it was a dream. It was all red. Bree, I’m so sorry. I thought I was coming to help you.”

  “Because Bree, who doesn’t have a cell phone, called you,” Kris noted and Bree smiled that he was still skeptical.

  “I was trying to help!”

  “She came for you,” Kris said. “Which I understand isn’t the inclination of immortals. Would you have stepped into danger for her?”

  “I did,” Kara insisted. “That’s how I got trapped. We’re sisters.”

  Kris harrumphed but kept flying. They were high above the ground when the other Pyr shuddered and shifted shape. Bree knew that Kris had them in his other claw because she’d glimpsed their salamander tails, but they took their human form again. The red strings on their wrists had disappeared, although their feet were still bloody and they looked exhausted.

  More weight was the last thing Kris needed, but his fellows didn’t look like they had the strength to shift, let alone fly.

  “You can’t carry us all,” Bree protested. “It’s too much.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Kris replied tersely. “We have to get out of here while we can.” He gave Kara a look that told Bree he hadn’t forgiven her sister. “You could be part of the solution, anytime now.”

  “I can’t fly as quickly as you,” Kara said, her cross tone indicating that the distrust remained mutual. Suddenly, her eyes lit. “They were talking about the wild hunt in the court. About being unable to ride out tonight because the portals were sealed.”

  “Not because they didn’t have horses,” Kris mused.

  Bree didn’t understand. He flew hard until the Fae court was just flames in the distance behind them, then landed. He put down his fellow Pyr, then Bree and Kara.

  “They’re coming!” Bree said, glancing over her shoulder.

  Kris took a deep breath and she thought he was gathering his strength. He shifted shape to his human form. Bree feared that he was weakening, that he’d rotate between forms again, but he’d chosen to change shape.

  She knew because he narrowed his eyes and looked around them, intent on something. “I thought so. I smell horses,” he murmured, which made no sense. His eyes shone with conviction when he turned to Bree. “Whisper,” he commanded.

  Bree understood and was shocked.

  “Not those horses,” she said.

  “Where else could they have gone?” His eyes gleamed. “Who else would have dared to rip off the Valkyries?”

  Bree hardly dared to believe, but she whispered the name of her favorite stallion all the same. She gasped when she heard hoof beats right away. The sound grew in volume, as the horses obviously raced toward them. Four horses appeared, shadows against the darkness, and Kara cheered in welcome. They weren’t normal mortal horses: they were the black stallions of the Valkyries. The lead horse whinnied in recognition and raced toward Bree, then halted and bent his head before her. He was already wearing a bridle, but he remembered her.

  The stallion was as sleek and black as she remembered, his mane flowing wild and his tail long. There was familiar fire in his eyes and his nostrils flared as he stood beside her.

  Awaiting her command.

  Bree was overwhelmed as she had never been before. Being with Kris had opened a new side of her, a more emotional one. She was aware of Kara staring at her, tapping her toe with impatience. There was a lump in Bree’s throat and she reached to caress the stallion’s velvet nose. He leaned against her touch, as if he’d missed her, too. He nickered and his eyes flashed, as filled with vigor as ever. She stroked him, wondering what she had become herself.

  “His tether’s broken,” Kris said, recalling her to their situation. “He broke free, which means someone will be looking for him.”

  “Come on!” Kara said. She’d already swung into the saddle of the second horse. Kris helped Rhys and Hadrian climb onto the back of the other horses, though they looked exhausted. Hadrian seemed to be used to riding, while Rhys hung on grimly.

  “We’ve got to go,” Kris said, then hefted Bree onto the stallion’s back when she didn’t move. She was snared by the vivid gleam of his eyes and couldn’t take a breath.

  Until there was a shout from the Fae.

  “No saddles,” Kris noted.

  “I’ve ridden bareback before,” Bree replied. Even better, she had ridden this horse bareback. She tightened her knees around the horse and gripped his mane.

  “Then let’s get out of here,” Kris said. “I’m betting he knows the way.”

  Bree whispered to the horse, giving him a command in Old Norse. Meanwhile, Kris shifted shape in a glorious shimmer of blue. The horse snorted and turned, then raced into the darkness ahead. They took flight, galloping into the sky, and Bree laughed at the feel of the wind in her hair. It was like old times, but so much better to ride like this with Kris.

  She watched in awe as the peridot and gold dragon flew low over them, like a protective guardian, and knew that even if this night was to be her last, she would have no regrets.

  Thanks to Kris.

  The woman, Eithne, took Rafferty and Melissa to Edinburgh Castle. They joined a tour, which left Melissa and Rafferty exchanging puzzled glances, until Eithne dropped back from the group. She ran one hand along the wall, watching for the group to move out of sight, then slid a key into a hole Rafferty hadn’t noticed. A door opened and he could see a staircase
descending into darkness.

  “Quickly!” she said and they stepped inside.

  Rafferty didn’t like the situation at all, and hovered on the cusp of change. The pale blue light that he emanated lit their way as he and Melissa followed Eithne down the stairs.

  “Is this the dragon’s lair?” Melissa asked Eithne, humor in her tone.

  Rafferty took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said, smelling an ancient dragon’s scent. “At least it was at one time.” He inhaled again, considering all the nuances of the scent. “Another has visited recently.”

  “The one you saw in the newspaper,” Eithne said. “Embron.”

  Rafferty felt his eyes narrow. He recalled the rhyme that Kris had shared with him, the one that Drake had been given at the Circus of Wonders. “Twin dragon princes,” he said softly and Eithne spun so quickly in her surprise that she nearly stumbled.

  Melissa caught the other woman’s elbow to steady her, because the walls had opened away, leaving the staircase exposed on both sides. Rafferty could smell dampness and leather, armor and skin.

  Awareness prickled on the back of his neck.

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  “Maybe it was a lucky guess,” Rafferty said, wanting her to explain. “Who are they?”

  “They were twin brothers, condemned by their brother, the king, simply for existing. Flammos feared a challenge to the crown and decreed that they should be...executed. Someone in the palace saved them, a rebel and family servant, and I was invited to save my own life by escorting them into exile. It was treason. I watched over them.” Her voice broke slightly. “But then it all went wrong. Blazion, the other brother, turned against humanity. He was hunted by his own kin, but it was a mortal man ultimately killed him. This was one of his hoards, the one where he was first attacked.” She turned on the flashlight she’d been carrying and Melissa gasped aloud. Rafferty stared at the warriors laid out on slabs. They must have been dead, but they were perfectly preserved and looked as if they were sleeping.