Caress of Fire (Dawn of Dragons Book 2)

by Mary Auclair

  “You have no choice.” Fedryc pulled his hand away. “Your presence would make this rescue even more dangerous, for all involved. We still have no clue as to who murdered my father, and Nyra and I will be exposed in the streets. If I have to ensure your safety as well then I won’t be as alert as I should be. I am sorry but you need to stay here, where you’re safe.”

  He shook his head again but his scowl loosened when Marielle pursed her lips and nodded. His hands closed around her waist and he pulled her against his hard body.

  “You are my life now.” Fedryc kissed her hair. “Nothing can ever happen to you.”

  Marielle chuckled, but didn’t pull away. Never before had she felt so safe, and that made her guilt all the more vicious. Because Devan wasn’t safe.

  How she wished she could go back to that rock and lose herself in Fedryc’s body again. Forget everything else. But she couldn’t.

  “I trust you,” she admitted, and it was like a dam had broken. All those years of fear and tension, always being the one who had to provide, who had to keep her little brother safe and fed, were gone. Fedryc was going to take care of her, and of Devan. “Just don’t get hurt, okay?”

  “Nyra and I are the scariest things for hundreds of miles around.” Fedryc chuckled in a rare moment of humor. “I’m pretty sure it’s Ignio Marula who should be careful not to get hurt. I won’t permit thugs in my kingdom.”

  Marielle lifted her eyes to see Silva walking quickly toward them, her golden dragon at her feet, gleaming like jewelry in the blazing sunlight. Soon, another figure emerged on the platform, a tall, slim woman Marielle had never seen before. Silver eyes shone with anger in the middle of a perfectly oval, milky white face that was so beautiful, she looked like a painting. Behind her was another dragon, the size of a horse, emerald green with a metallic sheen.

  Marielle didn’t need anyone telling her this was Isobel Haal, Silva’s mother.

  “Is this true?” the Draekon woman shouted, her musical voice carrying over the wind as if she were right next to them. “Tell me you didn’t take that creature as your Draekarra!”

  Fedryc let go of Marielle and stood beside her. The loss of his skin against hers made Marielle feel cold despite the heat of the sun.

  “Aunt Isobel.” Fedryc’s voice was cold, filled with suppressed anger, but his face remained expressionless as the Draekon woman approached and stopped right before them. “You know Marielle Jansen, I presume.”

  “Of course I know that girl.” Isobel Haal glanced with disdain in Marielle’s direction without making eye contact. “She’s the one who killed your father. My brother.”

  “Marielle Jansen had nothing to do with my father’s death.” Fedryc took one step closer to his aunt, his face still expressionless but his eyes glinting dangerously. “And you will address her with the respect due to the Draekarra of the High Lord of Aalstad.”

  Isobel scoffed, then she locked gazes with Fedryc. He stared her down with open anger, his powerful body unmoving. Isobel pursed her lips, then her eyes widened and her brows arched high on her polished, aristocratic face when Fedryc almost imperceptibly leaned towards her.

  “Of course,” Isobel answered abruptly, the venom in her voice betraying her true feelings. “Lady Marielle is welcome to Aalstad.”

  “Lady Marielle is the new owner of Aalstad, Aunt Isobel,” Fedryc corrected mercilessly. “She will be the lady of the house from now on.”

  Marielle stared, horrified, as Isobel turned flashing, accusing eyes her way, looking directly at her for the first time. Isobel’s fine lips disappeared as her mouth reduced to a thin, cruel line and fine wrinkles bloomed around her eyes. She didn’t look beautiful and elegant anymore; she looked old and bitter.

  “No!” Marielle spoke fast, gripping Fedryc’s sleeve as she stepped to his side once more. “Lady Isobel has lived in Aalstad for a long time. She can keep being the head of the household.”

  “No.” Fedryc shook his head, denying her words but keeping his eyes steadily on Isobel. “You and Silva are family. You are welcome to stay as long as you like, but I will have no one other than me above my Draekarra in Aalstad.”

  Fedryc’s words hung in the air as Isobel slowly inhaled, then glared at Marielle for a long time. Finally, her mouth softened and her wrinkles disappeared to make way for a remote coldness, heavy with the promise of a long-lived hatred.

  “Will the Lady Marielle take residence in your mother’s old chambers?” Isobel cocked her head to one side, keeping her expression carefully neutral as anger poured out of her eyes like liquid mercury. “Those are the lady of the castle’s apartments.”

  “No.” Fedryc shook his head. “You can keep your chambers. Marielle will move in to mine.”

  Isobel lifted one brow but inclined her head in acceptance. “Of course.” She spoke with velvet-wrapped hatred, her eyes going from Marielle to Fedryc. ”And what of your father’s Mourning?”

  Marielle listened to Isobel, the uneasy feeling in her belly growing by the second. She didn’t need to be Draekon to understand Fedryc had just thrown the woman from her pedestal and that Isobel Haal now saw her as a threat.

  “Marielle will hold the position of honor alongside me,” Fedryc stated simply. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like Marielle wasn’t suddenly at the very center of a deadly power play. “You will stand with Silva as the guest of honor.”

  “Guest of honor.” Isobel repeated Fedryc’s last words, her lips pursed like she was tasting some particularly foul food. “Of course. That will make you the High Lord in everyone’s eyes.”

  “I am High Lord,” Fedryc answered, sparing no pity for his aunt’s obvious hurt feelings. “And you would do well to remember it.”

  “My Lord.” Isobel inclined her head in obedience but her silver eyes shone with resentment. “My Lady.”

  Her steely gaze went to Marielle once more before she turned on her heels and walked away, her back straight and her elegant figure swaying gracefully as her emerald dragon followed in her footsteps.

  As Marielle watched Silva give her a tiny, apologetic smile and leave, she reflected that she had just made a new enemy without even trying to.

  Chapter 10

  Marielle stared in the mirror, keeping her hands away from her sides, too afraid to touch the dress that clung to her body, revealing just as much as it was hiding, shimmering like a flame. The fabric hugged every curve of her body, red, orange and yellow tones melding like precious metal. Only it wasn’t fabric. No, the dress itself was made of dragon scales. It was close-fitting around her hips, waist and chest, leaving one shoulder completely bare and draping across the other to end in the small of her back in a flaming pattern that seemed made of pure blood diamonds.

  The gown flared from her knees down in a wide circle, giving her small stature an elegant, swanlike appearance.

  It had taken less than a half-day for the skilled artisans to fashion the dress from Nyra’s scales, a dazzling work of art. The most beautiful thing Marielle had ever worn.

  She was afraid to even touch it.

  “There, Lady Marielle.” Asha stepped aside and admired her handiwork. “You look wonderful.”

  Marielle opened her mouth to thank the Delradon servant girl but it was too dry to talk and no sound came out.

  She didn’t recognize the stranger looking back at her in the mirror. The gown’s color offset her pale skin, giving it an ethereal, delicate texture. Her gray eyes shone in the middle of her face while a wide braid tamed her flaming hair, running down her naked shoulder and brushing the top of her gown. Glowing jewels were strewn through the braid, glistening through her curls like they belonged there.

  “I don’t know how you did that,” Marielle said truthfully. “I don’t look like me.”

  “Of course you do.” Asha spoke softly, a smile on her face. “You are very beautiful. Lord Fedryc will be proud to have you at his side for the Mourning tonight.”

  “Thank you, Asha. I have never been this pampered in m
y life.”

  Marielle smiled at the girl who had fussed over her for the last few hours. The Mourning of Lord Aymond, that sacred Draekon ceremony, was going to take place when the moon was at its highest in the sky, and Marielle was going to stand beside Fedryc and Nyra as Fedryc’s Draekarra, the most powerful woman in the kingdom.

  The thought made Marielle want to scurry away and hide, but she couldn’t. Fedryc needed her, and she owed him that.

  She owed him that and much more.

  Marielle turned away from her reflection and smiled at Asha. The girl was nice but shy, speaking in soft tones. Her presence soothed Marielle’s shot nerves.

  The girl smiled back, visibly proud of her work, and turned around to pick up the ornate box left on the heavy dresser against the wall of the bedroom. She held it with awe and an almost religious deference as she presented it to Marielle.

  “They brought your Draekar bracelet, my Lady.”

  Asha lifted the cover of the ornate box, encrusted with enough gold and jewels to wipe clean Devan’s debt twice over. But what lay inside made Marielle take a step backward. It was a marvel fit for a Goddess, something so beautiful, so precious, she felt guilty just looking at it.

  The bracelet that lay on a bed of black velvet gleamed with a life of its own. Its colors—red, orange and yellow—embraced each other in a succession of flames, carved out of Nyra’s scale. The scale Fedryc had pulled out for her.

  That single scale was worth more than any mating contract ever signed. That single scale that had been carved into the symbol of Fedryc’s lifelong commitment to her.

  Marielle reached for it but her fingers shook and she stopped before touching the shimmering surface. Her hand just hovered there, unable to touch the precious bracelet but unable to withdraw, either.

  “Take it, Lady Marielle.” Asha lifted her brows in encouragement. “It’s wonderful. I’ve never seen a Draekar bracelet before.”

  “It is gorgeous.” Marielle nodded but still, her fingers didn’t obey when she ordered them to touch the bracelet. “But I can’t take this. This is… this is…”

  She didn’t have the words. Priceless was what this was. Priceless and unique. Some work of art forged by dragon fire, for a woman who was as worthy as this gift. She wasn’t that woman. She was just a woman trying to survive, trying to save the last member of her family still alive.

  She wasn’t worthy of Fedryc’s devotion.

  “This has been made from Nyra’s scale,” Asha insisted, her lovely face suddenly confused. “It can only be worn by you.”

  Marielle brought her fingers away from the bracelet. It was too much. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve anything from Fedryc.

  Not after what she had done. Not after what she would still do if it could ensure Devan’s safety, if Fedryc didn’t find him fast enough. Because no matter what the Draekon Lord said, she knew where to find Ignio Marula. She had grown up under the thug’s shadow. She knew who he was and what he was.

  She knew she could take the bracelet and sell it for whatever fortune it was worth. Even if she sold it for half its value, she could still repay Ignio Marula and live the rest of her life with Devan comfortably.

  But she couldn’t.

  Betraying Fedryc had seemed so easy at first. Steal whatever she could find, then run. This time in the right direction, maybe even taking a hover transport to reach the capital.

  But now, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Just the thought made her stomach clench in knots. The thought of painting pain on those sharp features, clouding those silver eyes. She couldn’t do it.

  But then, if not Fedryc, she would doom Devan.

  Marielle shook her head against the impossible choice she had to make.

  Still, whatever her choice, she knew, somehow, somewhere inside her heart, that if she sold this bracelet, it would break him. Fedryc would not forgive her and she would never forgive herself.

  She could live with him hating her for leaving, for taking money from him and running away like the thief she was, but she couldn’t break him. Because he had offered her something no other man had ever offered. He had offered her more than an entire lifetime of safety and comfort.

  He’d offered her himself.

  And because of that, she was going to give him what he asked for. She would give Fedryc time to search for Ignio Marula, and during that time, she would stand by his side. Until then, she couldn’t accept a gift like this.

  After a few more seconds, Marielle reached for the lid and closed the ornate box. From the look on Asha’s face this wasn’t something that was expected of her.

  “But you have to wear it, Lady Marielle.” Asha stood there with the box, her soft golden eyes wide and fearful. “It would be of great offence to Lord Fedryc if you didn’t.”

  Marielle stood, undecided, as the door opened behind her. She turned to see the tall, well-built silhouette of Fedryc entering the room, his eyes on her like two silver moons. At the sight of him, a wild tide of desire rose inside her, and memories of their encounter flashed in her mind. Her body responded despite herself, like it knew something she didn’t. Like it wanted to belong to him.

  Fedryc approached, his eyes on her, not blinking. He looked so dumbstruck, Marielle couldn’t help but feel a stab of pride at the open appreciation in his eyes. He looked at her like no other men ever had.

  Like she was perfect in every way.

  He walked toward Marielle, never taking his eyes off her. He nodded quietly to Asha, who bent her head and handed the box over to her Lord before leaving in a flurry of gray fabric.

  “Do I look okay?” Marielle asked to break the awkward silence.

  Fedryc lifted his brows at her question and his mouth hung open for a few seconds before he scoffed. Doubt insinuated itself inside her and Marielle swallowed, hard.

  “You don’t look okay.” He shook his head. “You look like the incarnation of the fire Goddess herself. There won’t be any woman half as beautiful as you there tonight. All eyes will be on you.”

  “I don’t want anyone to pay attention to me.” Marielle brought her hands to her naked arms. Her skin was cold under her palms and she shivered. “I’m not the one who’s being honored tonight.”

  Fedryc’s lips lifted in a lopsided, sad smile. “You are mistaken. This Mourning has little to do with my father.” He trailed a hand to her collarbone, tracing the line of the bone to the curve of her shoulder. Marielle’s skin warmed under his touch and her fear lifted. “This Mourning has everything to do with showing all those High Lords and their ladies that we are not to be trifled with.”

  “They will look up to Nyra and you.” Marielle nodded. Nothing in the Draekon world was as it seemed, she wasn’t even surprised by it anymore. “They will see you are both powerful and strong.”

  “They will have eyes only for you.” Fedryc’s finger glided down to her braid, played with the curl at the end of it. “You are the strength of Aalstad that we will show to the world. And they won’t believe their eyes.”

  There was such confidence in Fedryc’s words, such devotion. Her heart swelled and she grabbed his hand. He looked at her, his face all sharp angles and honey skin, silver eyes shining.

  He glanced down at the box between his long fingers, then flipped it open. Without hesitating, he picked up the precious bracelet and examined it in the light of a large orb that lay on the side table. “It is perfect. A piece of art befitting of a great beauty.” He gently picked up her wrist, then frowned when she pulled it back.

  “It’s marvelous,” Marielle said quickly, realizing that Fedryc stood stiffly, his face an unreadable mask. “But I can’t accept a gift like that. It’s too much.”

  “This is no ordinary gift.” Fedryc smiled and it lifted his entire face. “This is the symbol of my commitment to you, to our union. It can be offered but once in a Draekon’s lifetime.”

  This time, when he reached for her wrist, Marielle didn’t pull back. She was choking on her feelings, on the
care with which Fedryc folded the bracelet around her wrist, like she was the most precious person in the universe. When he was done fastening the bracelet, his fingers trailed the delicate flaming scales intertwined with each other, then he brought her wrist up and kissed the inside of it, his hot mouth on the sensitive skin sending a rush of sensation all the way to her heart.

  “I want you, my beautiful Draekarra.” His silver eyes looked down at her, filled with heat and the promise of carnal pleasure. “You were all I could think of all day.”

  “You were all I could think of all day, too,” Marielle answered truthfully, her voice small and breathless as Fedryc’s arms closed around her waist and pulled her into his warmth. She could feel it through the fabric of her dress, that hot chest, that strong, beating heart.

  No, she could never leave. She belonged to Fedryc with every fiber of her being.

  The Mourning was about to take place, and Fedryc stood at the place of honor with Marielle at his side. Just in front of them was the stone altar where his father, Lord Aymond, lay beside the larger form of his dragon, Nissar.

  Fedryc stared at his father, the strong, aristocratic features lined with hardness, drawn into the taut mask of death. Lord Aymond was still as Fedryc remembered him, with a face made to rule over man and beasts. Lord Aymond wore a silk coat with a high neckline in tones of green and gold, outlining his athletic build and strong, lean shoulders. Despite his age, Lord Aymond had been a strong man, much like his dragon. Nissar’s spring green scales shimmered softly under the moonlight, and his mighty head rested just above his Draekon, his paws curved around the man’s chest in a perfect representation of the bond they shared during their lives. Now, they would be connected in death also.

  Emotions bloomed inside Fedryc at the sight of the man who had abandoned him all those years ago. The old anger was still there, but it was tempered under a veil of sadness. Because, for the first time, he understood what Lord Aymond Haal had lost the day his only son was born. Fedryc would never love his father. He would never forgive the man for the cold loneliness of his childhood, but he now understood him.