“Be careful, Grafton.”
“But it is true, my prince. You know it is. We have very limited resources. Our knights are few. No allies to swoop in and protect us. We are on our own.”
“Tell me how to kill it. You’ve seen it. Breathed its foul breath…”
“Yes, but…”
“This beast is nothing more than an animal. Like a stag or a horse. It can be killed!”
“With all due respect, Highness, a stag does not generally breathe fire.”
“No, but…”
Grafton shook his head, obviously frustrated with Tristan’s delusions of grandeur. His courage was bolstered by the fact that he had never seen the beast. He did not know what it could do. “You don’t understand, Prince. The beast of Gwynfir does not just breathe fire. His breath is poison. His enormity is… unfathomable. He shakes the whole of the earth when he walks, and his wings set off a gale that will level anything its path.”
Tristan growled in frustration, slamming his fist down on the side table with an audible crack. “I refuse to believe that some witless, evil… wyrm is mightier than Osghast!”
“Begging your pardon once more, Majesty. There is one who might help us, Prince. For the right price.”
Tristan rounded on Grafton, his brow knitted with tense concentration. “Who? And I should warn you that I do not put much stock in wizards or soothsayers.”
Grafton laughed. “You may well before our task is complete. You may even wish for it.”
“Go on.”
“Go into the Dark Wood just beyond the borders of Thane. Seek out the Dark Lady.”
“The Dark Lady? Grafton, if this is some kind of gypsy trick…”
“There is no trick, Prince. Queen Mab, the Dark Lady of the Wood and the Queen of all Fae. She is familiar with dragons. There are some that say she gained her power when she was the lover of an ancient Dragon Lord. Go to her and beg her favor.”
“And how do I do that?”
Grafton smiled wide until Tristan could see a glint of gold tooth. “Offer a gift.”
Chapter Four
“Filthy tribe bitch!” Thalia was pushed down the stone steps of the tavern, coming to rest in a wet, mucky puddle below. She shook the muddy water out of her hair and looked up at the sweaty mountain of noisy flesh barreling out onto the porch. “Get out of here and never come back!” he snarled.
“You’d better hope I don’t, old man!” she shouted. “The next time I see you, your painted whorebeasts will be picking your innards out of their hair!” Evidently the look in her eyes was enough to convince him of her seriousness, and he turned back to the safety of his establishment.
It wasn’t easy, but Thalia stood, groaning as the stays in her ragged old bodice stabbed into her ribs. She smoothed her hair back as best she could, trying to keep some semblance of dignity as she limped down the muddy road toward the village gates. With every step, it became harder to breathe, and she pulled at the knotted strings at her middle. How most women wore these all the time was still a mystery. She wasn’t used to being bound up so tightly or having to maneuver around in long skirts. Further proof that she hadn’t belonged here in the first place.
Perhaps it was a blessing that her employ with Mr. Cabbagestalk had been so short-lived, though when she’d started, it had seemed a blessing. After Markus’s death, she had known she was done slaying dragons. She wanted a normal life, a quiet life, a life where she didn’t have to weigh life and death in her hands just to survive. She’d begun working at Cabbagestalk’s tavern as a barmaid, a mindless task that she hadn’t exactly enjoyed but that kept her tired and busy enough to keep her mind off Markus and dragons. But in less than a week, Cabbagestalk had become convinced by her blond curls and unblemished skin that her talents would be better utilized elsewhere. When he had tried to sell her virtue to a merchant passing through, she’d refused. Vehemently. He had been able to offer a warm place to sleep and scraps of food, that had hardly seemed adequate compensation for her honor. If that was the lot her station in life could provide her without her slaying skills, she was in dire straits indeed.
Thalia’s stomach growled insistently. Since Markus’s death, food had been in short supply. The gold given to her by the old friar had seemed tainted. She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of carrying it with her, so she’d given it to the church in a neighboring town. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, even noble, but now as she walked away from the only other source of income she had found since, the taunting ache in her belly called her a fool. Esa, she thought. Esa will take me in. But Esa was in Isling.
When she reached the gates, the road continued into the surrounding forest. She hoped that there would be a stream or something close by where she might catch something to eat. The meager pack she had slung over her back didn’t have much in the way of weapons, just a few crossbow bolts and a hunting knife. Fish would be much easier. She didn’t feel much like chasing down a wild animal and killing it with her bare hands, but the hunger pangs were insistent.
Thalia walked for hours until the sun began to dip low in the sky. It was cold and dreary, and the road had become so narrow and overgrown that she could barely make it out any more. The forest was dense here, and despite the fact that a stream rushed parallel to the road, she hadn’t had much luck with hunting or fishing either. Only a few berries and wild onions kept her from passing out. She dragged through the underbrush, and the weight of all that had happened grew heavier and heavier on her shoulders. Soon it began to rain, and the drops on her cheeks quickly turned to tears. Finally, she couldn’t walk anymore and collapsed on the muddy ground.
“I’m so sorry, Markus,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I let you run out on your own. I’m sorry that I took you away from your home. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you!” She lay down with her cheek against the cold ground, perhaps hoping that the rain would pool up around her and she’d drown, lying in a puddle of her own regret. “I’ve made such a mess of things.”
Lost and wandering. Through endless fields of blue and black, Thalia swam away from consciousness and into her dreams. She could feel it. The Veil between life and death where she floated weightless and waited for him. It was her only comfort. The scent of ash and rain permeated her senses, and when she opened her eyes, he stood in the distance, leaning against an ancient oak and staring out at the world. He wore a cloak of deep inky blue-black that almost matched his hair. For a moment, Thalia thought she might see him change into a raven that would fly away if she got too close.
“Is it you, Prince?” she asked, sitting up. Her head ached, and her cheeks were raw from angry tears. “Can you hear me? Or am I dreaming?”
“Is there any difference between dreaming and waking?” he asked. His voice was like an autumn breeze in the night.
“I’m not sure,” she said, struggling to her feet. “I’m so tired. I’m not sure what’s real anymore.” As she approached him, he tensed and was almost startled when she touched his shoulder.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he said, shying away from her touch. “You cannot take refuge here, Thalia. This place isn’t for you.”
“But why?”
“Why doesn’t matter. It’s a pretty fiction, and neither of us are children anymore.” He turned, and for a moment, she could see his profile silhouetted against the moon above. Thalia’s heart gave a flutter, and she rushed to him again, throwing her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against the warmth of his back. “Why must you make this so difficult?” he asked, neither turning to her nor pulling away.
“Because I don’t care about the whys either. I don’t care if I don’t belong here. I don’t want the world anymore; I only want you. Here, protecting me like you’ve always done.”
He turned around, gripping her shoulders. His face was obscured by shadows once more, but his eyes glowed fiercely. “Never say that, Thalia!”
“But it’s true. I would gladly drown myself in the Cryspyn Sea if it meant staying
here with you!” She was sobbing again, burying her face in the folds of his cloak. Her heart was so heavy. She could feel it shattering in her chest, leaving a cold and empty place that was darker than the night around them. “He trusted me! And I let him die! It just doesn’t seem right that I should go on living.”
Finally, he pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her close as she wept. Her body shook with the force of her tears, but he held on tightly. “But you do. And you will. You didn’t kill him, Thalia. Markus chose his own path just as you must choose yours.” He pulled back, tipping her chin higher until their eyes met. “But your path is not here.”
Thalia woke with a start. She was surprised and disgusted to find herself lying in the dirt once more. “Path indeed,” she snarled, sitting up. As she got to her feet and gathered her pack, she noticed a crossroads up ahead and sighed with relief. Perhaps she wouldn’t be lost in the forest forever.
Chapter Five
Esa made her way down the path toward the ruins of Ellythin. Legend had it that there had once been a great kingdom of men here, perched on the cliffs by the sea. Now all that remained was the hollow keep, done to ruin by the Dragon Lords of old. The ancient king had been driven out of this fortress into what was now Osghast, and thus the house of Laurenz had begun its reign over these lands. The hatred and vengeance that had begun with the destruction here had prompted endless wars between men and the Dragon Lords until finally it had seemed that the whole dragon race had been eradicated. The kingdom of men had grown arrogant and reckless in their illusion of victory. Esa and the rest of the Fae had watched as they raped the mountains for riches and wasted the fruit of the forest. They were like spoiled children. Greed and malice invited evil; now their destruction even threatened Faerie. Perhaps she should just let them burn. Let Malik take his revenge and obliterate any trace of them. It was only her own guilt and her need to put things right that made her journey so deep into the angry forest.
“Malik!” she called. “Do not hide yourself from me, Serpent.” As she approached what had once been the entrance to the fortress, she could feel that it was noticeably warmer here. He was close. The gentle exhale of the breeze against her wrinkled cheek was his breath, and the shiny rocks she stepped over were the leathery spines that adorned his tail. A dragon was good at not being seen, but Esa was wise to him. After all, she’d known Malik since the day he was born. She could always find him. “Get up, you hoary beast!”
Esa could feel his approach long before she saw him. A tremor of fear that began in her chest reverberated down her body and morphed with the quaking beneath her feet. Though she was certain that Malik would never harm her, his presence was overwhelming, and she could not help but cower before him. She could hear the waves below crashing against the rock face, but all else was silent. The trees were still. Even the birds wouldn’t sing so near his lair. As she reached the gates a roaring sound startled her, and she looked toward the falls at the base of the mountain that poured into a stream that would wind its way around the sharp rock and empty into the ocean below. Malik reared his head from beneath the spray and yawned a growling roar. His scales glistened with the drops of foam that clung to their iridescent surface. Those scales were stronger and harder than any armor could possibly be. They could withstand the iron bolts of a dragonslayer and the heat of his own breath. He rose from the stream, standing to his full height before her, stretching like a man just awakened from a long nap. Plumes of steam curled from his nostrils wrapping his enormous serpentine head like a crown. Esa tried not to concentrate on the rows of sharp fangs that flashed pearl in the sunlight as he yawned again. Instead, she preferred his eyes. They were still fire and ice—blue-green oceans with a kiss of amber fire. His eyes were a clue into the man that lurked beneath this outer shell of grotesque distortion. “It’s about time!” Esa scolded.
“I’ve been following you for two leagues, old woman.” He chuckled, a low rumble of thunder. “Your human form never ceases to amuse me, Faerie Mother. But you’re safe in the grove now. Even Mab can’t block out the moonshine. Shed this wrinkled pelt and show me your true face.” At his command, Esa’s body strained and contorted until she stood tall once more. The steel-colored tangles of hair lengthened and coiled until they shone copper in the moonlight. The lines of age vanished, and her eyes were sparkling with mischief once more.
“This is how you prefer me, then?”
“Of your two faces, this one is the truth,” Malik snarled. “The arrogant poisonous fairy.”
“Such harsh words for one who saved your life.” Belladonna clucked her teeth and approached. She looked way up to see him. His size was immense, and she marveled each time they met. The tips of the horned protrusions over his brow would break through the high canopy of trees when he stood at his full height.
“Is that what you did?” he hissed. “If you can call living in exile as a hideous beast saving me, then thank you, my queen.” He bowed his head to her level, feigning grace.
Bella’s expression softened, “Destiny has a role for you yet, my serpent son.”
“Why have you come?” Malik growled. “Did you come pleading for your human pets once more?”
“Would it sway you this time?” she asked, stroking her fingertips along the rough scaly bridge between his massive eyes. She knew it would calm him. It had since he was a mere hatchling, hissing and licking at her hand.
“Of course not,” he snorted, snapping his head up and startling her. “What reason would I have to spare them?”
“Please Malik,” she pleaded, falling to her knees as he whipped around, his spiny tail grazing over her head. “I know that you are angry. That you hate Christophe and your brother for what was done to you. But the realm of Osghast is under the protection of the Fae, and I beg you to abandon this vengeful mission. Do not make them pay for Mab’s sins. Show some mercy!”
“As they were merciful to me?” he bellowed. He raised up on his hind legs and spread his black wings wide behind him. They glowed like molten lava flowing in cracks of pumice stone. “Ruled by a murdering fool who would cast out his own son and leave him to die on the rocky crags! These are the creatures whom you so passionately defend.”
“He is their king.” She hung her head, feeling the icy sliver of a single tear roll down her cheek. “You must understand, my son…”
“Do not call me your son,” he snarled. “Would a child born of the Fae be so distorted?”
“But you are. I suckled you at my own breast, Dragon Lord. Cared for you and kept you hidden. Mab wanted me to destroy you. My defiance of her is what’s kept me trapped here! That and…” Her voice trailed off as she turned away from him.
“The girl child.” Malik huffed and narrowed his eyes. They had been playmates since infancy. Thalia. The abandoned orphan of Tarkin had been the daughter of the greatest of that city’s dragonslayers. When her mother died, her father had rejected the child, and she had replaced Malik as Esa’s nursling. He should have been jealous. He should have hated her.
But Thalia had loved him first. As the fairy Belladonna, Esa had taken the baby into The Veil, the world between worlds where the boy Malik could take a human form. The baby had smiled at him, laughed at the sound of his voice. Not even his touch had hurt her. Thalia had been born to be a slayer, but Malik could never hate her. She had been the first living creature to reach out for him, to welcome his touch. He had left his mark on her, but it was not a scar. It was a gift, a connection between them that had endured ever since. At first Esa had feared this connection, but the infant Thalia had become the only one who could quell the rage that burned so deeply within Malik. And even when the dragon had grown to his full shape and left Esa and her mothering behind, the human girl’s connection to him within The Veil remained. With her Faerie sight, Bella knew that for years when the girl had assumed that she’d been dreaming, Thalia had been straying into The Veil between her world and Faerie for nighttime games with the dragon prince. In these visions, she saw h
is true form, the prince he ought to have been but for his father’s treachery and Queen Mab’s curse. But it was only a clever illusion that dissolved in ash if she gazed too long or tried to touch him. Now that they were older, their games had grown bolder, and Belladonna knew the urge to touch must have become almost too much for them to bear. Bella suspected this was the cause of the dragon’s sudden ferocity, the reason he had become so intent on burning his father’s kingdom to ash. “I asked that you not speak of her.”
“Malik… I… you must listen to me…”
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? So spill it before you burst with all your huffing and stammering.”
“Your anger has finally gotten the attention of the king…”
“Good!” Malik snarled.
“Not good,” she said. “The king knows who you are. The only reason he hasn’t tried to destroy you before now is because he knows. And I fear that your brother is not so patient. He will destroy you not because of the destruction you’ve wrought but because he fears you.”
Malik heaved a bored sigh and flopped over on his side. “How do you know these things?”
“I have foreseen it. Tristan will try to use the girl to destroy you.”
“Why are you telling me this, Bella?”
“Because Thalia needs your protection. I don’t think that Mab is quite finished with her sinister games. She hates Christophe and will stop at nothing to destroy his world. She sees you as his ultimate weakness. She will play on that.”
“So let her,” Malik said. “My father deserves whatever havoc Queen Mab can dish out.”
“Arrogant and witless wyrm!” Bella shrieked. “Christophe’s fate is irrelevant to me! As is his brat’s. You and Thalia are all I care about! Your fate and Thalia’s have been entwined from the beginning…”
Huntress: A Paranormal Romance Page 5
