The egg rattled, and squeaked. Both thieves stared down at it in horror. The egg squeaked again, and Elena felt something siphon at her magic, draining it out of her as if it was a glass of water.
Running out of magic, Elena and the stranger were completely revealed – at the precise moment four guards entered the room, followed by the two witches from earlier.
Both would-be thieves froze. The man instantly untangled his hand and sprang away from her. “Uh, I was trying to stop her stealing the egg.” He eyed the egg as if it was a ticking time bomb. Caramel brown eyes, Elena noted wildly. That was the color of his eyes. Also, he was trying to sell her out.
Typical fucking thief.
“Excuse me? I took it from your hands. After you knocked out the fire witch. If anything, I’m the one stopping someone from stealing –”
“Another word,” the dark haired witch growled, “and I’ll drown you both where you stand.” For good measure, she summoned two snake-like plumes of water from her gourd, which hovered menacingly in front.
Both thieves fell silent. Before Elena could register that maybe it might be better to just make herself vanish and drag the man with her, one of the guards snapped an iron band around her wrist, doing the same to the man.
Nullifying their magic, though it was already inexplicably drained.
Speechless, Elena knew she was in some deep, deep shit now. Well, it was nice being alive.
“To the dungeons. Extract that egg carefully.” The dark-haired woman crouched by the unconscious fire witch, and a strange mood pervaded Elena – calm and peace. It didn’t feel like her own emotions, because that calm and peace caused her to placidly hand over the egg.
Which squeaked, and rattled again.
All eyes turned to the egg. Eight people watched as cracks appeared on the golden surface. The guard holding the egg appeared terrified, and hastily placed it on the ground, backing away. The useless thieves watched as their very expensive prize broke into pieces in front of them, and a tiny, slime covered golden dragon crawled out of the remains. Elena’s insides felt much like those egg shards. Everything she’d battled for was for nothing. She’d been caught, her magic stripped, and now there was a tiny lizard in place of a golden egg.
The baby dragon squeaked and crawled to Elena’s feet. Filmy yellow eyes contemplated her, and something nudged against her mind, until it broke in without any ceremony whatsoever.
In the back of her mind, she felt the dragon’s little heartbeat. And some very smug satisfaction that she was certain a twenty second old hatchling shouldn’t have.
“Did the dragon… just hatch for these two people?” the red-haired witch said, looking very confused.
“This is the worse day I’ve ever had,” the dark-haired witch said, throwing up her arms in apparent disgust.
2
Garek
How did it all end up going so wrong? Garek had no clue. One moment, he’d been contracted to steal back a dragon egg for some very angry dragon overlords, offered thousands to ensure their queen was returned to River’s End, the next, another shadow witch appeared out of thin air, wrestled the egg off him, and then the people came and it hatched and now he was in jail.
What he couldn’t wrap his head around was the coincidence.
What in damnation had arranged things for someone with the exact same powers to attempt to steal the egg at the same time? Out of all the coincidences in the many, many realms that existed, he thought this one was a bit too much.
He brooded in his cell, sat upon the hard jail bed, antimagic chains anchoring him in place. Opposite him sat the other magic user: the person responsible for completely ruining his burglary.
True, Garek had felt an… unusual compulsion for taking on this task. A strange drive that he had to take that egg the day before, that it needed to be within that time frame. He’d assumed it to be some kind of gut instinct at the time, and he wasn’t in a habit of ignoring gut instincts, but now he wondered if somehow, he’d been played. Some great cosmic joke ending up with him in jail, and some trickster witch or deity somewhere laughing until tears rolled out of their eyes.
At least the compulsion had stopped, now. Ever since he’d laid eyes upon that woman, touched her, actually, and something inside had shifted. He had no words for that something; just an awareness of things somehow being different. Though that might also be down to the fact that he’d been ousted, so of course things were different.
There was one other little problem. That thing, that dragon – he felt it in the back of some cobwebby corner of his brain, and its mental screams of distress. He’d learned to shut it out now, but boy did it give him a stomping headache for the first five hours of jail time.
Absently, Garek blew lank blonde hair out of his nose, failed because it flopped right back, and continued wading through sluggish thoughts.
No matter how hard he attempted to think, nothing made sense. His job, his reputation was in tatters. As soon as the smuggler’s den caught wind of his botched mission, he’d likely be severed from it completely. They didn’t tolerate failure well. They were obliged to satisfy clients, whatever end of the species spectrum they hailed from. No hard feelings – people needed to survive and make money somehow. In war and occupation, all sorts of unscrupulous opportunities emerged for those lacking moral fiber. And with his species and skill set – working as a thief came naturally.
He’d been a thief in the Realm Market, and a beggar as well. He knew the other kids, how they pooled together all their earnings each day to make sure they had food and warm, dry things to sleep in. He’d caught the eye of Sylas, his mentor, and his life went on an upward trajectory from there.
Staring at the cell bars, he wished he could shift into his unicirim form and kick the damn things down. Use his magic to slip out of the castle, and then take to the skies, an invisible ghost heading home.
He wanted freedom. Independence. Not this. Or the sobbing, wailing dragon in the back of his mind, which he still didn’t fully understand as to how he could feel it in the first place. It cried, and he knew it wanted him close. There were no words to express how he knew – just that he did.
“Well done, genius,” the curly haired woman said from her cell. She fixed him a particularly vicious glare, like nothing would give her more satisfaction than to watch him drop dead.
“You’re the one who ruined my operation,” Garek snapped back. “Then you got all hysterical and wasted time arguing when we could have gotten out of there.”
“What, you’re blaming me for this? If I recall, you were arguing back, and assaulting me, which could have dropped the egg. You’re the shitbag.” She rattled her chains for good measure, all fire and fury, and Garek examined her for a moment, licking his bottom lip. Tracing over her wild, curly brown hair, the angry grooves in her heart shaped face, and the tight, skin-fitting black clothing. “Hey,” she added, lips curled in scorn. “Are you fucking checking me out right now? Seriously?”
He blinked at this ludicrous assumption, cheeks heating slightly. “What? No. Just thinking we could spend less time yelling at each other, and more time thinking of a way to escape.”
Her expression turned dark, her smile sarcastic. “Yes, let’s discuss our escape plans right now, in front of the two guards patrolling the dungeon who can overhear us. They’ll never suspect a thing.”
Storms, Garek wanted to slap this woman’s face. If she could lay off the tongue lashing for just one second, maybe they could get somewhere. Where, he wasn’t exactly sure, except now his mind was reflecting over the crazy, ridiculous coincidence of them both robbing the egg at the same time.
“Why were you there when I was?”
“I don’t know. Why were you?”
He thought about that odd compulsion in his gut. The same one he’d learned to follow over the years, to trust in times of danger. “I don’t know,” he answered. The other question he wanted to ask: did you feel what I felt? – he didn’t allow it to see the l
ight of day. This wasn’t the time and place. And she was a complete stranger who’d completely destroyed his chances with the Smuggler’s Den. Instead, he settled with: “What’s your name?”
Her lips pressed together, and he wondered if she’d be too stubborn even to share that. “Elena,” she finally said, barely loud enough for him to hear.
“Elena?” he said, to check he’d caught it right. She nodded. “I’m Garek. Garek Waymarket.”
Her eyes widened at that. “An orphan surname.”
“You know that, do you?” One of his eyebrows raised, interested in spite of himself. “Only way you’d know that is if you’ve been in the Realm Market long enough to pick up the customs.”
“I live there,” she replied. “Well, there, and places on earth. Our favorite place is Vienna in Austria, but we also like Vancouver.”
None of those names meant anything to him, but he nodded as if they did. “That explains things, then.”
“Do you live in the Realm Market, still?” She frowned at him. “Just wondering if I’ve seen you around.”
“I’ve not lived there for years. But I used to be with the beggars. I lived in Westside Orphanage with about fifteen others.”
“Westside…” The frown deepened. So not an angry frown, then. A thinking one. “I’m sure I’ve been there. I used to play with some of the orphans as a child.”
Garek’s heart began to beat faster. Searching his memories, he felt a strange nausea steal over him, the harder he tried to recall. Eventually, he gave up, not wanting to risk vomiting, and shrugged. “Maybe we did play with each other. Maybe we didn’t. But I can’t remember.”
“Me either,” she said softly.
They lapsed into silence after that. Occasionally, they stared into each other’s eyes. More unspoken questions came into his mind, but all of them slipped away, until he closed his eyes, letting exhaustion overtake him. In the dozing state before sleep, he thought he heard the wordless crying of the baby dragon in his mind. Along with the rapidly pulsing heartbeat of an animal in stress.
He jerked into alertness when the cell door opened, and a scowling pair of women examined him. The dark haired witch he vaguely remembered was called Yvonne, and a scarred woman who looked as if half her face had been pressed against a furnace; a shadow witch in the employ of the royals.
“Am I to be executed now?” he said, sounding bored, though his heart picked up in pace.
“Not yet, unfortunately,” Yvonne said, holding up a pair of cuffs. She approached him and clamped each one around his wrists. Locking into place, they chafed his skin uncomfortably. “We’re taking you and your fellow prisoner for a little walk.”
Released from the wall chains, Garek stumbled forward, prodded by the shadow witch, blinking against the stronger hall lights outside of the dungeons. They hauled Elena out as well, also wearing antimagic cuffs, and she glowered at the ground instead of him. His legs ached as they went through the stairwell, winding up and up until they were on the third floor, passing suspicious guards and finery which Garek itched to steal, before being ushered into a room that looked like some kind of high-end nursery. If the pen, the toys, the soft blankets and books and pillows were any indication. Inside the pen lay a twitching baby dragon.
To his side, past the four helmeted male guards that stood to attention on each corner of the room, and a surly, yellow eyed man. In front of the dragon, Elena lifted her gaze up from the ground at last.
Their eyes locked together, and her brown ones narrowed with complete dislike. If looks could kill, Garek would be dead hundreds of times over. Her dark hair was a ruffled mess, and since the last time he’d looked at her, there seemed to be some extra chunks of hair teased out of her scalp. Like she’d been ripping at it in stress. Now they were closer, he again felt that strange energy between them.
“Do we both have to be here at the same time?” Elena asked. The one who’d ruined his plans, but who also felt familiar, somehow.
Have I seen her before? Again, he searched the recesses of his memories. Because there was something about her. Try as he might, however, nothing came to memory. Just that vague nausea welling in the back of his throat.
“Oh, shut up,” Yvonne snapped derisively. “You don’t get a say in this. If it was up to me, I’d have you both strung on a mast for the birds to pick at, but according to our exile friends...” She gestured to the yellow eyed man, “a queen dragon only hatches in the presence of someone, or someones, that she feels an intense connection with.” Yvonne really didn’t look like she was enjoying saying a single word. Each one was forced out of her.
In the deadly silence that followed, the yellow eyed man stepped up to the occasion, his voice gravelly and disdainful. “A dragon’s bond is different from a unicirim’s. You people, you’re born, and you can spend your whole lives searching for one another. For the exiles, it’s the same. We spend our lives searching, we don’t always find what we’re looking for. But with a dragon, a good-to-honest queen dragon that grows to the size of a house – she doesn’t hatch until the right dragon comes along, with the right magical energies. Or in this case… persons.”
As if in agreement, the little dragon squeaked. The despair and distress in the back of Garek’s mind faded, and the creature’s yellow-gold eyes kept shifting from the other thief to him, little nostrils flaring.
The man’s words didn’t bring a whole lot of hope to Garek. “Wait, you’re telling me I’ve Bonded to a baby dragon? That’s messed up.”
“It’s nothing as crude as that,” the man said, a faint growl rumbling in his throat. “It’s just an imprinting. The baby senses the one she wants to be taken care by, the one whose destiny entwines most fiercely with her, and when born, will often mold herself to the ideals and morals of her chosen caretaker, or caretakers. She feeds on their magic if it is strong enough, and by extension, grows with the feeding.” He glanced at Garek and the other woman as if they were pieces of dirt stuck to his boots. “It’s an honor to be a queen’s caretaker. Roughly one queen is born every century. It places the next generation of dragons in that caretaker’s hands. And it seems… the next queen of the dragons will be an ally to humans. If,” the man said, holding up one aggressive finger, “you morons don’t mess it up.”
An unnatural, high-pitched giggle left Garek’s throat before he found the sense of mind to contain it, with a lot of hostility focused on him. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sorry at all, “but you’re telling me that a mighty, powerful dragon… will grow up to be a thief?” His stomach trembled with barely concealed laughter. “She wants her caretakers to be… us?” He pointed at the woman and himself.
“Yes,” Yvonne said flatly. “That’s what we’re saying. And the baby will not shut up unless its caretakers are in the same room as it. It just sits there, crying, all day, all night.”
“What are you saying?” the thief-woman said in a rather panicked tone, her brown eyes wide circles. “What do you want us to do?”
Skies, Garek thought. The other thief was a little dense. He was already on board, and still struggling to control his mirth. The mirth escalated into something giddy, and he brought himself back to some sliver of rationality, in time to hear Yvonne say, “Congratulations. You’re no longer on the execution block. Both of you are now babysitters to a dragon.”
A low, frightened groan slipped out of the thief-woman’s mouth. “You’re kidding.”
“Or would you prefer to be executed?” Yvonne asked mildly, expression bland.
“I’m not… I’m not going to babysit a dragon. Christ on a cracker. My mom’s expecting me back. This was supposed to be our lucky break.”
“Should have thought of that before you decided to sneak into a stronghold surrounded by thousands of soldiers and witches to steal an egg from us. Which we will be drilling you both about, by the way.”
Still grinning on the inside, which he suspected was part hysteria at the terrible situation, Garek focused his gaze on the baby drag
on. He felt similar mirth nudging the back of his mind, and vaguely realized the little creature was imitating his emotions.
Well, this was interesting.
He didn’t exactly think he’d be any sort of father or inspiration material, but honestly, this was too good an universal joke to pass up. He might be fired from the thieving gig, this might be the last sail of his career – but the honest thought of a huge storming dragon calling him dada did nothing for his sanity. How many others could say the same?
Sure, he still intended to escape. He wasn’t going to throw all his plans and ambitions out the water just because these people had designated him as a babysitter, forcing him and the other thief into an instant dysfunctional family.
But right now, he didn’t see any way out of his situation, other than to wait and hope his fellow thieves took pity on him. That his mentor, Sylas, respected him enough to spring him out.
Unlikely, because the Smuggler’s Den hated liabilities, and him being Bonded, imprinted, whatever to a dragon almost certainly classified as a liability.
* * *
“So...” Garek said, committing Elena’s name to memory. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue, and it definitely matched her pretty face. “You were planning to sell the egg at the Realm Market.”
“Yep,” Elena said, straddling the chair opposite him, both her arms propped on the top of the backrest, chin digging into her knuckles. Both of them were under intense scrutiny, since no one planned for them to leave the baby dragon alone. Garek had entertained some notions of taking the baby dragon hostage, but he’d already calculated the probabilities. None of them ended with him escaping. Four guards watched them. Yvonne listened in with that Thorn woman, and two more people had squeezed into the room, which Garek recognized as royals. Tara and Janus. Two of the four, and the last two awaiting a Bonded. People always spread rumors about them being closer than close, since one was rarely seen without the other.
Captured By The Royals Page 2
