Thorn pinched the bridge of her nose. “It seems, Yvonne, that we have an extra complication. Any idea where to start?”
“Mm, no. But I’ll ask Artur. See if he’s got anything in that crusty old brain of his.”
“There’s one person you can ask,” Elena said then, her voice cracking as she finished.
“Oh?” Yvonne scowled at the younger woman. “Do tell.”
“I…” Elena’s eyes darted to the floor, then stayed there, unable to look elsewhere. “My mother. She might know. Actually, I think she does. She said something about needing to keep me out of danger. And… she…” Elena stopped herself from saying something else, and Garek wondered wildly what hovered on the tip of her tongue.
“Your mother,” Yvonne said flatly. “Convenient.”
“I swear. She knew I was having these nightmares. But she never mentioned anything about a Bond. She just changed the subject or found something else to talk about, and I didn’t think it meant anything big at the time.”
“Right.” Yvonne and Thorn murmured something to one another, too quiet for Garek to hear. Meanwhile, Garek just stared at Elena, trying to reconcile the image he had of someone Bonded to him with her. He failed, because there was nothing there except that vague loss.
They should know one another, but they didn’t. And when they touched, there were no sparks, no fire or dams bursting. To test, he absently brushed his fingers against her knuckles, trying to appear he was comforting her, and a strange nausea overtook him.
Her gaze snapped up to him as well, stricken, and she moved her hands away. “What was that?”
“What did you feel?” Thorn said sharply, and Garek grimaced.
“Off,” he said. “Like I’ll be sick if I touch her for too long. Yet I also…” Want to touch her. Yeah, he didn’t voice that out loud, preferring to leave it hanging.
“What in skies and swamps,” Yvonne said, apparently at the end of her comprehension abilities as well. “It’s official. I know nothing about magic. All you special cases cropping out of nowhere. First Maya not fitting in the box, then a wanderer, and now two people who can’t feel their Bond. Who are also thieves who tried to steal the queen dragon. I’m out.”
“Least I don’t torture people for fun,” Garek said, before he could help himself. The water witch gave him a warning glare, as did Elena. “I’ve never tried to hurt someone the way you did to me.”
“Are you sure about that?” Yvonne smiled lightly, but it hid danger. “Because the things you’ve stolen – how do you know you didn’t ruin someone else’s life forever? Taking their most valuable possession. Leaving them in the mud after you robbed them blind. You smugglers are all the same. Thinking you’re above other people, when you’re just as bad as them.”
“I never claimed to be better than other people,” Garek said, the unease still churning in his stomach. “But you think you are, don’t you?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Elena squeaked then. “Don’t say things like that.”
“He’s stupid,” Yvonne said. “But don’t worry. I’d prefer to get to the mystery of this Bond. So you say your mother knows? And where is she? The Realm Market?”
“Usually,” Elena said. She sucked in her bottom lip, appearing anxious to Garek’s eyes. “It’s my mother and father, they sell a stall. They call it the Knick-Knacker, you’ll see the sign. But… don’t hurt them.”
“If you don’t want them to be hurt, then why tell us this?” Thorn asked in interest. Garek privately thought the same, because he didn’t think these kind of people planned to be lenient on those with a reputation for stealing.
“Because I want to know,” Elena said simply. “And she never told me.”
Garek didn’t have the luxury of a parent who could tell him what to do. He had his mentor, Sylas, who’d trained him specifically for the purpose of using his talents for profiting the Smuggler’s Den. And it was great to be put to such use, to feel a kind of direction, a purpose to his existence. To have some guidance on his magic, though he knew most of it instinctively already. He liked who he was. But now Sylas, old and settled in his underground throne, would be watching the seconds tick by, and understanding that Garek had failed. If the news spread over the Realm Market, it’d reach the Smuggler’s Den. They had eyes and ears everywhere.
He wouldn’t sell out his people’s secrets, but he couldn’t entirely trust them not to send an assassin at some point to make sure he didn’t reveal anything about their operations. Since the den did process hundreds of clients each day, and scoop up wretched magical children like him to train.
Someone like Elena must have had a nice, secure life. He didn’t begrudge her it. Some people needed to have nice lives, to make up for the ones who didn’t.
“If this Bond between us is true,” he started, making sure Elena’s dark eyes locked with his, because even if touching her nauseated him, seeing her also felt right at the same time. “Then I’d like to know why it’s not working as intended.” It was a strange contradiction, wanting to be near her and distant. Like they should be close, but whatever darkness inked their dreams wouldn’t let them.
“That makes two of us.” She smiled tentatively at him, with a beautiful pale flush on her cheeks, and he blinked.
“That uh, yes. Hmm.” Words failed to form properly. His brain kick started into action when Yvonne cleared her throat, pointing at the baby dragon, which now squirmed, trying to find a better position on Garek’s broad chest. The dragon’s mind brushed against his own, not intrusive, exactly, just curious.
You and me both, little D, he thought.
“We must have met before, then. At the market,” he mused, searching her eyes to see if maybe she recalled something he didn’t. Unlikely, but still…
She nodded at his words, swallowing a lump in her throat. “Like I said, I played with the children when I was younger. And I know my mom didn’t want me playing for some weeks at one point, and that was when I started getting the nightmares. I don’t remember anything else, though. Just a time I was playing and a time when I wasn’t. Nothing of you.”
“Nothing of you, either,” Garek admitted, though he’d been scrabbling hard through his memory for any girls that resembled her. His past in the Realm Market appeared in his mind like a smudged painting. “Though I was taken quite young. I think I was around ten. Eleven. Something like that.”
They continued to scour each other’s expressions in curiosity, trying, trying to push past the fog. A headache built up in Garek’s skull as a result, and he gave up with a huff, choosing instead to go back to stroking the baby dragon. At least the activity was soothing, and the dragon’s purring a pleasant vibration against his chest, which caused his bones to be sunk in warmth.
“Are you really going to help these thieves out?” One of the guards spoke up again, the one that Garek referred to in his head as Grumpy. He always sounded like there was something shoved up his backside when he spoke, and he and Garek were quite content to mutually dislike one another.
“We’re helping ourselves in the process,” Yvonne said. “And like them or not, our little queen here certainly seems attached to them. And we all know she can breathe fire, so let’s not go down this route.”
Go on, Garek thought savagely, feeling a similar emotion stir in the golden dragon. Say again how you think we should just kill the queen. I dare you.
The guard, wisely, chose to keep his tongue from flapping, though he stood far stiffer than the other three, face hidden behind his dark gray visor.
* * *
Garek received a letter from his mentor, Sylas, two days later. Hidden somehow in a plate of food delivered to him by either a servant in on it, or completely oblivious to the information he carried. Garek lay on his bed, facing away from the door, and unfolded the tiny parchment, recognizing Sylas’ special seal in the top left corner.
Son, the letter read.
We know by now that your mission has failed. The security in the castle i
s tight if you’re not a shadow witch, but we’ve managed to glean information off a guard that our… product has hatched. Furthermore, you may have a bond with said product, which no one expected to happen, least of all our scaly clients.
Not everyone is pleased to hear of your subsequent capture, however. Some believe it better to cut their losses and cut you in the process. They think you’re turning soft with the life of luxury you must be leading in the Bastion keep.
Garek snorted at this, suppressing his urge to laugh wildly. Yes, he was just loving his new accommodations and role.
Our clients grow restless and surly. They are distressed at the thought of a queen hatching for a human, to the point where they are thinking the unthinkable. Kill the queen.
They will pay double our current offer just for you to kill the queen. Since from what we gather from our clients, a queen that has hatched for a human is worse than losing a war.
As always, we at Smuggler’s Den remain neutral. Your task has changed.
When you find an opportunity, kill the queen. This is your chance to redeem yourself. If you can’t…
Then I’m sorry, my son.
I can’t stop them.
Good luck, and hope you return to Smuggler’s Den in triumph.
S
Staring blankly at the S, Garek didn’t move for a moment. Dread bottomed out his stomach, leaving a cold rush traveling through his veins. The queen dragon nudged at his mind, curious at the change in mood, beginning to grow upset herself.
Garek re-read the letter twice more.
He should have seen this coming. He’d speculated that he’d be an assassination target, but for some reason, it didn’t occur to him that the queen would be a target. He’d assumed they’d still want to haul the queen out, somehow. Not kill her.
Skies. He didn’t even know if he could. The thought of stroking that little dragon, then slitting her throat next second filled him with sheer revulsion at the concept. No way. He couldn’t do that. Not drain the life from a completely innocent and trusting creature, especially one that seemed to regard him as a parent figure. Even if it’d only been something to the tune of two weeks since his capture, he’d sensed that little creature in his mind every day, and her confused emotions as she attempted to understand the world around her, and why he and Elena couldn’t be near her every hour of the day and night.
Another ugly thought struck him.
It was far, far worse than just the queen being a target for assassination. Hadn’t Thorn said that the queen was connected to them? That if one or both of them would die, it would kill the queen as well of a broken heart?
Meaning that he and Elena were vulnerabilities.
Without access to their magic. Hard not to get panicked at that thought. All it’d take would be one slip of poison in his food, like how that parchment got in. He’d need to taste the food carefully from now on, using the brief training a food taster learned if they didn’t trust their hosts.
He’d… he’d have to warn Elena. But by extension and association, that meant him aligning with the royals and their cause.
No, I’m not aligning with them. This is just for myself. It’s just a bad joke that it’s working out this way.
The alternative simply didn’t exist for him.
No. He stared at the paper for a while longer, debating how to break the news. If he should burn every scrap or present it as evidence. It took far too long for him to roll out of bed, and alert the guard outside his door.
A muscled, visor wearing guard with the unicirim royal crest on his armor swam into view. “What?”
“I need to talk to Yvonne or Thorn. Or one of the royals. Anyone important.” He stood his ground, gazing evenly at the guard until he relented with a grunt, locked the door in Garek’s face, and slouched off to fetch someone. He couldn’t stay still after that, anxiously pacing up and down the small room, clutching the parchment, still considering whether he should just rip it up once and for all and scatter the pieces to the winds outside his tiny viewing window. Betraying his people didn’t exactly come easy. His mouth was dry, and his heart beat a painful rhythm against his ribcage, as if accusing him of being a sellout. A traitor. Spitting in Sylas’ face after the old man’s efforts to try and reach out to him, to redeem him, like he was a true son.
I’ll always look out for you, son. We might be a collection of slum dwellers and has-beens, but we’re like family, and family has each other’s backs.
Garek exhaled loudly, feeling as though he was exorcising his soul with it. They never said life would be easy, but this…
This was worse than being on the streets. He didn’t even like any of these people, but he refused to be a participant in murdering something that trusted him so completely, that didn’t know any better.
Humans were awful. He knew that, and took solace in it. Made it easier for him to do his jobs, because he knew everyone was wearing masks, anyway, hiding something dark and twisted within. They stole, maimed, killed lusted, pretending to be good people, when reality revealed them for who they really were.
He was just fine stealing from them. But not the little queen. Not something so pure, so stripped down and having done nothing to deserve suffering.
It was Tara and Janus who came through the door, the siblings tall, proud, and wary.
“You wanted to speak to us?” Janus said, leaving a cautious distance between them. Tara was less guarded, but still had a set about her jaw that denoted a lack of trust. Garek held up the crumpled parchment in his hand.
“This was smuggled to me earlier. I think you should read it.” Quickly, give it to them now, he thought. He handed over the parchment before he changed his mind. He’d made his choice. The sibling’s eyes darkened as they huddled together to read through the letter
Seconds trickled by as Garek waited for judgment to fall. Whatever their verdict, he hoped at least his intentions were clear. He didn’t plan to hurt the baby.
“Why give us this?” Tara was the first to speak, her brow furrowed. “Surely this goes against your own interests.”
“You seriously want to talk about this now?” Garek said, struggling to ignore the bees buzzing in his stomach. “You know because of that letter, we have limited time. Elena’s going to be in danger!” He paused. “The dragon. Me. They’re going to know I betrayed them fast.”
Tara and Janus exchanged wary expressions. “We’ll deal with her, don’t worry. But still… why would you care about Elena or the dragon?”
Garek gulped visibly, unsure how to explain, since the panic in his stomach continued overriding everything else. “I’ve no desire to hurt the queen. If they’d asked me to try and smuggle her out, we wouldn’t be having this talk, and most likely you’d come in to an empty bed sometime in the next month. But I’ve no interest in murder.”
The siblings regarded him with identical glares, and he clasped his clammy hands behind his back.
“You don’t want to hurt the dragon.”
“No. Wasn’t that obvious?” Garek smiled briefly, though it most likely came out as a grimace. He didn’t particularly want to hurt Elena, either… “But there is another complication…”
“Of course there is,” Tara said in exasperation. “What is it?”
“There’s three ways to kill the queen. Either assassinate her, the obvious one, or to kill me or Elena. We are quite vulnerable – and if spies can smuggle in a piece of parchment to me, then they can likely slip in something else a little more lethal as well.”
Really, he shouldn’t be telling them about their own security, but neither did he particularly care for getting killed due to major security flaws.
Janus and Tara exchanged a long, meaningful look, as if communicating without words. Twins were like that, weren’t they? Always too close for comfort.
“Thank you for telling us,” Tara said softly. “We’ll pass this along.”
Garek gave a non-committal grunt in response. Sooner or later his former allies
(it stung to consider them this way) would catch the news. Sylas might be sitting at his desk with a heavy sigh of regret for having reached out at all. And lots of knives would be sharpened, lots of unsavory thieves taking bets on who’d bring down the shadow user first. Rare enough he was a male, able to use shadow magic. Rarer still he was a unicirim to boot. They’d want to force him into his unicirim form most likely, to rip out his feathers and use them for charms and wards. The black markets around the worlds always held a budding trade in procured body parts.
Tara and Janus left, promising to return shortly with news, though Garek knew it’d be something along the order of moving him to a more secure, less obvious location.
He frowned at the door they left through, still not completely sure if he’d made the right choice. Certainly it wasn’t the smart choice, because the smart choice would be killing the dragon and letting his colleagues rescue him, and then laughing in some high end bar through the dozens of expensive wines bought with his earnings. Buying the company of top class women and comparing successful heists with the boys.
Sacrifices had to be made. An innocent life deserved a chance. Besides, a new mystery had neatly thrown itself onto his lap. A mystery wrapped by dark hair and dark eyes and a body that preferred wearing boyish clothes – pants and shirts rather than sundresses and feminine attire. That glared at him sometimes with unrelenting hate, and sometimes, he was sure, with something else.
It intrigued him, because he’d never bothered forging a connection with any woman. Didn’t think he could, really, because none of them tugged at his heartstrings. None of them meant anything more than a quick way to blow off frustration, a night of passion and fun, and sometimes just something warm to hold when things got a little too lonely for sleeping solo.
I should try talking to her more. Be nice to talk to her outside the context of the dragon and being ogled by several people at once, expecting him to pull off a disappearing act with these antimagic bracers. Which he had been picking at in his spare time. They didn’t want to come off. It was as if they were welded into his skin, because he barely managed to squeeze a fingernail underneath the peculiar metal.
Captured By The Royals Page 5
