The Dragon God's Kiss

by Ana Lee Kennedy

  “The Fae sense your magic and therefore who you are.” A soft giggle followed. “And you forget that the mark upon your temple glows.”

  Two great, inky cats padded out of the undergrowth. One leaped atop Hoggr’s back, who snorted with disapproval but did not flinch. The other panther scaled the tree to recline on the limb in front of Ember. It rubbed its big head against her tunic, the animal’s purrs thunderous.

  Relieved, Ember said, “Please show thyself, good Raya.”

  “I am here.”

  Ember looked up into the branches above her to find the goddess staring back with vivid blue eyes.

  Smiling, Ember said, “Your entrances into this world are unique and mysterious.”

  The goddess laughed, the sound vibrating the tree. “And your silver tongue pleases me, dear princess.”

  “Why have you come?”

  “You have need of me.” Raya rolled off of her perch and slowly floated down to sit next to her panther, which promptly stretched across his mistress’s lap. “You have been calling for me since you discovered your power. It is grand, is it not?”

  “It—it is frightening.”

  “And all-powerful.”

  “Aye,” said Ember, “but why give an all-powerful magic to a half-Mortal?”

  “Ah.” The goddess nodded. “Because of your human blood, you deem yourself unworthy. If you were unworthy, you would not have handled the battle upon the plains.”

  “I just do not feel I can wield such power.” Worry and doubt weighed heavily upon Ember’s heart. What if she failed? What if someone special lost his or her life because of her ineptness? And what would Raya say should she fail? Would she punish her?

  “Your lie is easily seen, oh favorite one, as are your doubts.” Raya tipped her head to one side, her curly, golden hair tumbling over one shoulder. She scratched her pet’s ears, and the cat rewarded her with a deep, rumbling trill. “Questions tumbled through your mind like grains of sand through one’s fingers. You have issues with your mother’s bloodline.”

  “Mother left the Mortal world, abandoning all she knew to embrace the Fae, but I fear her human blood will be my downfall.”

  The goddess’s laughter rocked the woods. “You, dear one, have more disdain for Mortals than I.”

  “Not disdain. Fear.”

  “Fear? Of Mortals?”

  She shook her head. “No, I fear the human blood in my veins shall cause me to be as thoughtless as Mortals often are. I shall never forgive myself if I do something foolish. I am afraid the human part of me will be too weak and I shall not be able to control or contain my power.”

  Raya studied her quietly for a long time. Trying not to squirm beneath her scrutiny, Ember stared back, hoping she appeared bold.

  “As you pointed out, your mother embraced her Fae roots, dear child,” Raya began. “Your father is the Green Man himself, and Fae magic already coursed in Queen Honey’s veins despite the Mortal part of her. Her magic could not be diluted or contained, nor can yours, so you should put your fears aside.”

  Silent, Ember shifted her gaze to Hoggr, where the other panther kneaded the horse’s great shoulders. The warhorse appeared as though he were in ecstasy. She smiled and looked back at the goddess.

  “You have another question, do you not?” A smile tugged at Raya’s lush mouth. She adjusted her embroidered tunic and kicked her feet back and forth, the limb quivering beneath them.

  As Ember searched for the right words, the owl shrieked again, closer this time, and another answered its ghostly call.

  Finally, the princess asked, “Why did you give me such a destructive gift?”

  “I did not.”

  Ember blinked. “If not you, then who did? Lochri, perhaps?”

  “The Trickster is but one deity of fire,” Raya answered. It was obvious the goddess was choosing her words carefully. “Lochri gave you the gift of fire, but the bulk of the power’s strength came from Hyrrokkin.”

  Shock coursed through Ember. Hyrrokin? Why?

  “Who summons me to these infernal woods?” a female voice boomed in the gloaming.

  Chapter Eight

  “Princess,” said Sarenkesh. “Are you well?”

  Except for Kaedric, Ember saw all the men racing through the woods toward her. They stopped below her and formed a circle around the tree.

  “Hold thy tongue, Sir Greensleeve,” said Raya. “The princess has a visitor. Mayhap you all should return to camp.”

  Deeper within the forest, the trees bent and swayed, snaring Ember’s attention. Wood protested with groans and squeaks, and branches and small trees snapped like thunder claps. The ground vibrated with heavy footfalls. The howl of a wolf—a very large wolf—penetrated the area. Ember glanced down at the Fae men, who placed their backs to one another, looking this way and that, weapons drawn.

  Raya laughed so hard she nearly fell out of the tree.

  Ember stood up on the branch and wrapped her arms around the trunk. Fear engulfed her, the taste of it thick in her mouth. Her heart hammered so hard she thought she felt its beat penetrating the tree trunk. She had to control her emotions and rule her fear instead of the other way around. She’d never forgive herself if she managed to burn down the entire forest.

  Below her, Hoggr issued a single, worried neigh, but Ember didn’t know if it was more from his fear or if he sensed her magic surfacing.

  A gargantuan form drew closer. Finally, a wolf and a female rider took shape until all Ember could do was look upward. The leafy canopy blocked her view of anything above the rider’s breasts.

  “Hyrrokkin,” said Raya. “Welcome. This wee one by my side is a Daughter of Trinity, Ember, my favorite.”

  The giantess released a set of reins that writhed and twisted around the wolf’s head and neck. The ebony vipers blinked red, glowing eyes at their surroundings. Hyrrokkin hiked one leg over the wolf’s head and slid from his silver back. She knelt, slowly stretching out on her stomach, her huge body covered in leather armor.

  “Greetings, little daughter,” said Hyrrokkin, her bellow shaking the earth and trees.

  “Greetings, good Hyrrokkin,” Ember replied in a small voice.

  The men pressed themselves against Hoggr and the base of the tree.

  “Be gone, little mites,” said the giantess. She lowered her head, squinting at Sir Hestbone with onyx eyes. “We womenfolk must speak of things that male minds struggle to comprehend.” Pursing her lips, she blew out air, knocking the men to the ground. Ember clung to the tree in desperation, her hair streaming out behind her. Hoggr neighed in protest.

  Once the ogress’s breath passed, Ember said, “All is well. If I should have need of you, I shall call.”

  Diondi Shastar and his guardsmen turned and filed through the undergrowth.

  “Princess?” the dwarf said.

  “Go on,” Ember urged. She turned and reseated herself on the limb.

  Reluctantly, Sir Hestbone withdrew, but Sarenkesh refused to leave. “I shall remain here for you, Princess,” he said.

  Nodding to him, she replied, “Go back to camp. I shall be fine.”

  He stared up at her, indecision and worry evident in his eyes. His concern for her warmed Ember, but before she could relent, the goddess spoke.

  “The princess is with me, Gloaming Elf,” Raya stated. “She is well protected.”

  He nodded once and slowly walked back to the fire.

  Ember turned her attention and unease toward the giantess.

  “You have the makings of a fine leader,” said Hyrrokkin.

  “Aye,” said Raya. “One of the many reasons she is my preferred one.”

  Hyrrokkin set her chin in one great, gnarled hand. Behind her, the vipers hissed, and the wolf panted. She frowned, her large rug-like brows knitting over a wide nose that looked as if it had taken a damaging hit. “You summoned me, good Raya. What is thy desire?”

  “Ember”— Raya inclined her head—“fears the strength of her power.”

>   “And I shall do what about this?”

  “Quiet her fears,” said the goddess, a bit of irritation slipping into her voice.

  “This was your—”

  “Take care what you speak,” Raya warned, her tone loud, stern, and startling. “You are not a god.”

  “Not yet.” A smirk tainted Hyrrokkin’s face.

  “Did I not already warn you about your mouth?” Raya countered. She shifted on the limb, and it dipped dangerously.

  “Ask Torr.”

  “Torr!” Raya glanced at Ember. The goddess’s eyes blazed with fury. “Torr’s graces are fickle, oh giantess. Do not say I have not warned you.”

  A grimace settled over the creature’s rough features. “Take heed, dear princess. Lochri is a trickster. I only gave you some of my strength so that your magic would be all-powerful. I cannot teach you how to contain it or wield it. Just know Torr favors you as well. If it was not for Raya, Torr would have you beside him in his hall.” Hyrrokkin sat up but lowered her head so she could see Raya and Ember beneath the canopy. “What is done is done. I cannot interfere, for as good Raya aptly put it, I am not a god. If you have questions, little woman, I suggest you call upon Lochri or Torr himself.”

  “She need not do so,” said Raya. “I am here for her.”

  Hyrrokkin’s oily, black gaze shifted from the goddess to her chosen one. “Such a pity.”

  “Hyrrokkin!” Raya thundered and stood upon the limb. “Be gone!”

  “With pleasure, good Raya,” said the giantess, disdain thick in her gruff voice. “Be wary, wee, Daughter of Trinity.” She rose and mounted her giant wolf steed. Picking up the rein of snakes, she turned the wolf around. “And be well!” Her words rolled like thunder through the twilight as the animal raced off into the woods. Sticks and small trees flew through the air. Resounding crashes and thuds shook the ground.

  “It is time I go as well,” said the goddess. “And it is time for you to rest.”

  “I have to keep watch—”

  “You have to rest,” Raya reaffirmed. “You shall sleep soundly and gather your strength. The days ahead bring new and disconcerting discoveries.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The goddess touched the mark on Ember’s temple. Exhaustion overwhelmed Ember, and darkness descended upon her in a warm, heavy blanket of oblivion.

  ***

  Sunshine warmed her face and turned the inside of her eyelids a deep pink. Ember shifted her position. Why does soreness torment my ass and legs? And why do I have a crick in my neck? With a groan, she turned her head. Someone held her. Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared at a familiar dark blue tunic.

  “Sarenkesh?”

  “Aye, Princess. You awaken at last.”

  She sat up straighter and found herself once again on Hoggr’s back with Sarenkesh riding behind her, holding her up.

  “What—how did I…?”

  “Raya brought you to the camp two nights ago. She had put you to sleep, stating that for what is ahead you shall need your energy to overcome it. Little did we know you would sleep for such a long time!”

  “I feel as though I have been sleeping an entire season.” She wiped at the grains of sleep in her eyes.

  “Oh, thank the gods,” Dikartha’s voice erupted somewhere behind them. “The princess is awake.”

  “Aye,” Sir Greensleeve called over her shoulder. “Awake but disoriented.”

  “Ach, only natural after tasting a god’s magic,” Sir Hestbone said.

  “I didn’t get to bid Lady Evanesce farewell.” Guilt settled in Ember’s chest. “She became a good friend.”

  “And she understands, dear princess.” Sarenkesh looked down at her. Sympathy and kindness filled his eyes, his tone soft and soothing. “Worry more about Raya’s vague warning than friends gone their separate ways to sleep in safe, warm beds.”

  She nodded. “How far are we from the Southland’s borders?” she asked.

  “A few hours, maybe less.”

  A tickle of fear climbed up Ember’s spine. What would they find there, and why was it so essential she possess an all-powerful magic that could consume everything in its path?

  Ember wasn’t so sure she wanted the answers to her questions.

  “Hold!” Sir Hestbone called. “I’ll ride ahead and scout for a suitable camp.”

  As they waited, the minutes passed, but Sarenkesh’s hard body tantalized Ember. He held Hoggr’s reins in one hand, his other arm cradling her body as he brushed his thumb back and forth across the thin flesh over her hand. Desire swirled through her. Flustered, she sat up, forcing Sarenkesh to release her.

  Behind her, he issued a soft, disappointed sigh. Although Ember knew he wooed her once more, it didn’t make sense for him to use his magic when he was aware of the consequences.

  Sir Hestbone’s pony snorted from the brush. The dwarf emerged and waved to them. He led them to a lush, green glen. The sound of a waterfall filled the air.

  “A bath would be wonderful,” said Ember.

  Dismounting next to Hoggr, Dikartha looked up at her. “Go ahead and have your bath, Ember.” She untied her bedroll from the saddle. “I shall set up our bedrolls and then join you.”

  Once Sarenkesh maneuvered Hoggr next to a sizable rock, Ember slid from the steed’s back with the elf’s aid. She moved to climb down from the stone, but Sarenkesh did not release her hand. Pausing, she looked up at him.

  He squeezed her hand and smiled. “I will unsaddle your steed and lead him over to graze with the other horses. We will keep watch, but remember that this area is new to all of us, and we have no idea what dangers may lurk about. Promise me you will be wary as you bathe.”

  The emotion in his eyes baffled Ember. “I promise.”

  He let go of her hand and then clicked his tongue gently nudging Hoggr with his heels. The horse nuzzled Ember’s hair, blowing softly, and turned to the area where the steeds grazed.

  Ember took the change of clothes her aunt held out to her and made her way toward the sound of falling water.

  “Watch your step, Princess,” Sir Hestbone warned. “There is a good bathing pool just over there”—the dwarf pointed—“but the stones leading down to it are covered in moist moss.”

  She nodded and made her way down the steep incline. A creek snaked through a grove of trees and spewed from a jumble of rocks. The water fell down into a small pool. Ember navigated the last few mossy rocks and stood on a thick sandbar. Water lapped against it, and the aroma of fresh water permeated the air. Birds twittered in the surrounding foliage, and high above the pool, a white-and-blue butterfly duo performed zigzags and dips. Kneeling, she cupped her hands and sampled the water. Cold and refreshing, the liquid soothed her parched throat. She splashed some on her face and gasped. Perhaps a pan bath would be better than freezing her ass off; however, since her last bath was at the castle, a thorough bath was a must.

  As she pulled off her boots and then stripped out of her breeches, tunic, and undergarments, Ember kept thinking about Sir Greensleeve. Now that they couldn’t make love, Sarenkesh seemed more determined to woo her with his magic. Lately, every time he looked at her or touched her, the sensations he sent out almost rendered her powerless. However, for his safety, she had to remain strong. She would never be able to live with herself if she hurt him in any way.

  Naked, a soft, cool breeze flowing over her skin, she forced herself to concentrate on a bath. Ember shivered, delicately toed the water, and slowly stepped into the pool. As she waded in, her body adjusted to the bracing temperature. Finally, she submerged herself and surfaced to work her fingers through her hair.

  “I thought you might need some soap,” a male voice said.

  Blinking water from her eyes, Ember turned. Kaedric stared back at her, a smug smile on his face, eyes agleam with desire. Suspicious, she studied him, keeping her form submerged to her neck.

  He tossed a wad of white substance to her, and she caught it. “Thank you.”

 
“Dare I ask you a question?”

  Ember gauged the expression in the man’s eyes.

  “Aye,” she answered hesitantly. She didn’t trust the Mortal, but if he should try something, the others were only a shout away from aiding her.

  “How does a princess raised by the once-chaste Queen Honey have so many lovers?”

  Although his question was bold, somehow it didn’t surprise her. In her hands, the soap ball glistened with flecks of flower petals. She paused, thinking on her reply. “I have many lovers because it is what I want.”

  “Are you not concerned that no man will want you as a wife?”

  Her gaze flew up to meet his, and she laughed to shame him. “You know not of Fae ways, Kaedric. The Fae are not governed by Mortal customs and beliefs. Giving up one’s virginity is not a matter of impurity or lack of morals.”

  “King Roahre thinks differently.”

  She shook her head. “Nay, Father only strives to keep me to one lover—not that it is any of your concern. You obviously did not come here to discuss my lovers but whether or not you could be one of them.”

  “Your father denied me what is rightfully mine,” Kaedric retorted, his tone indignant.

  “So you feel I should take you into my bed to make the matter right in your mind?”

  “It is a start.”

  “No wonder Mother hates you so.”

  He waded into the water up to his knees, and his eyes turned from bright blue to flint. “Your mother would have learned to love me, little princess. My father paid your grandmother handsomely in gold for your mother’s hand in marriage.”

  “The marriage price was returned in full.”

  “Aye, but a person’s word cannot be broken.”

  “I will not lie with you, Kaedric.” Steeling herself for a nasty confrontation, she added, “If you are so desperate for relief, wait until we reach the next village and seek it within the arms of a whore.”

  “I want you.” His words came out with such menace a shiver tightened the hair follicles on Ember’s head.

  He took another step into the water but paused. A series of emotions crossed his handsome face. Realization followed in their wake, and Ember knew he was thinking of how she’d nearly killed Sarenkesh.