by Mary Auclair
Marielle inched almost imperceptibly closer and Fedryc turned to her. She was so beautiful in the flaming dress the same color as her hair. The same shade as Nyra.
She was the flame that warmed his heart, cast out the shadows of his old life. She was everything.
Behind them, Nyra stood silent, her gaze on the assembly. He could feel the tension rippling off her scales as more dragons and their Draekons landed on the large outcrop of rocks, coming together in a rare display of intimacy. This much closeness was not characteristic of the dragons, who lived far away from each other except for the rare occasion when they found true mates.
But violence would not erupt tonight. Tonight was a time for Mourning.
Fedryc turned sharp eyes to the assembly, watching Lord Aymond Haal’s allies and enemies alike as they gathered on the large round platform under the silver rays of the moonlight.
The great red dragoness behind him bristled, fiery scales reflecting the gray light of the moon.
“Calm down, Nyra.” Fedryc patted the broad neck of the dragoness and felt a pulse of pure savagery travel up his arm. “Now is not the time to hunt.”
Nyra’s anger traveled down the bond, and it was all Fedryc could do to refrain from raging out, lashing out at the assembly with all the wrath of the uncivilized beast. After a few more seconds had passed, he was able to send up his own feelings of restraint and calculated patience to Nyra. It wouldn’t contain her for long, but it could buy him just enough time to get through the Mourning ceremony.
“She’s angry.” Marielle looked at him with her wide, storm-colored eyes.
“She knows the killer is amongst us.” Fedryc’s hand moved almost of its own accord to touch her silken cheek.
“How can she know?”
“Venemum Ardere is the only poison capable of killing a dragon,” he explained as his eyes trailed over the exquisite curves of her face. “It’s forbidden, the mere possession of it is punishable by death. Whoever fed it to Nissar not only had the dragon’s trust, but the means to buy it as well.”
“The killer was also a traitor, then.” Marielle stared at him for a second more, her eyes turning cold and deadly. He liked this side of her, the protective instinct that made her fierce.
Fedryc scanned the assembly of more than two dozen Draekon High Lords and their dragons. Then his eyes locked onto a familiar face: Lord Aldric Darragon, High Lord of Katanie, with his human Draekarra and his white dragon behind them. Not too far away stood Lord Emeril Fyr, alone with his sapphire blue dragoness. Fedryc’s heart clenched at the sight of his old friend, at the lines of grief and loneliness on his face making him appear decades older than his forty years. Fedryc remembered the boy Emeril had been at the Emperor’s palace for his defining training years, full of passion and mischief, a few years younger than he. That boy was gone, and the man standing in the Mourning assembly had taken his place.
Was that what had happened to Lord Aymond? Was he a youthful Draekon once, like Emeril? Did the birth of his only son turn him into the uncaring man who had abandoned Fedryc all those years ago?
With a tremendous effort, Fedryc looked away from the assembly and stared at his father, lying as if in a deep slumber in Nissar’s embrace. His hand closed around Marielle’s wrist and he looked up, inclining his head slightly to signal to the assembly it was time to begin the Mourning.
The dragons opened their wings in the night air, painting the view with scales all the colors of the rainbow. Theirs was a magnificent display of power and beauty as the chant began from low in their throats. The hollow, rolling sounds rose, summoning images of beauty and grief.
Images of the bond that made the Draekons who they were, and their beasts sentient marvels.
Then, after the dragons had paid tribute to their dead, they stopped. Now it was time to put the dead to rest, so man and dragon could fly together in the night sky forever.
They approached, one after the other, gifting scales for the dead, covering Lord Aymond under a shimmering shroud. Then it was the turn of a young Draekon man, a large gray scale in his hand.
“For your grief and the loss to us all.” The Draekon man’s eyes went to Marielle, paused for a long second, then went back to Fedryc. “I trust we will speak soon, Lord Fedryc.”
“Why is that, my Lord?” Fedryc frowned at the way the young Draekon spoke.
“I am Lord Anion of Virhot.” A superior smile appeared on the young man’s thick but weak lips. “And I was in discussion with Lord Aymond before the sad event.”
“Before my father’s murder, you mean?” Fedryc tensed, all his senses on high alert as Nyra bristled behind him. He shot a quick, hard glance at Nyra over his shoulder. She had to restrain her temper, as violence during a Mourning was a blasphemy liable to unite all the Lords of this land against them.
Marielle followed his eyes and she stepped back quietly, placing her hand softly on the fiery scales. Soon, Nyra calmed down, but her sapphire eyes shot bolts of danger toward the young Draekon.
“Of course. A terrible, terrible crime.” Lord Anion bent his head, his eyes darting to the red dragoness. “But I hope this will not prevent the understanding I had with your father, the late Lord of Aalstad.”
“What is that understanding?” Fedryc frowned. Whatever this man wanted, it was highly inappropriate to talk business during such an event as the Mourning of a High Lord.
“The mating with the Lady Silva.” Lord Anion’s eyes shot over Fedryc’s shoulder to where Silva and Isobel stood. “She is compatible.”
Fedryc stared for a long time at the repulsive, mild-mannered man. Anger brewed inside him and it took all his years of training to rein the emotion in. He couldn’t allow it to show, not with Nyra barely containing herself right behind him.
“Tonight we honor my father.” Fedryc finally spoke, his voice cold and full of contempt. “Whatever understanding you had with the previous High Lord of Aalstad died with him. Now, step back, my Lord.”
Lord Anion’s eyes filled with poison as he rubbed the gray scale in his hand. Then the man’s gaze went to Marielle, and a growl rose in Fedryc’s throat. Lord Anion hastily retreated, taking his place next to his gray dragon.
Fedryc watched the Draekon for another few seconds before dismissing him. That one wasn’t strong enough to challenge him, and he would be very surprised if his father had placed his trust in such an obviously weak and obsequious man.
Whatever his flaws, Lord Aymond had never been one to be fooled easily.
Finally, only the eyes of Lord Aymond remained uncovered. Fedryc watched as his aunt approached, her elegant figure clad in a gown of pure emerald, followed by her daughter wearing a gold dress that looked like a jewel. The two had dark, almost black hair and fine features accented by milky white skin.
A surge of protectiveness overtook him at the sight of them. They were his family, and although he barely knew them, it was his duty to keep them safe.
“Aunt Isobel, cousin Silva.”
“For your grief and the loss to us all.” Isobel handed the emerald scale to Fedryc, silently followed by Silva with her golden scale. “May Aymond and his dragon fly together in the Night Lands.”
Fedryc took the scales and placed them over his father’s eyes, finishing the cover of dragon scales that would serve as Lord Aymond’s coffin.
“Congratulations on your Draekar mating.” Isobel glanced at Marielle, her eyes going to the bracelet at her wrist, then back to Fedryc. “Marielle looks lovely. The entire continent will know her now.”
Fedryc nodded, then watched his aunt and cousin walk away to their dragons’ diminutive forms in the assembly. They were dazzling and beautiful, with their dragons shining like jewels behind them. This was the curse of the pure of blood, those who had too many generations of Draekon mating Draekon behind them.
Nyra stirred, pulling Fedryc from his thoughts. Strong or not, this part of the Mourning was Nyra’s greatest test. She had to burn hot, hotter than she ever did, to melt
the scales on top of Lord Aymond and burn the flesh of both Draekon and dragon, leaving only their shapes behind. Then, she would have to fly high with them to take them to the Night Lands.
Without waiting, Fedryc jumped on Nyra’s neck with the ease borne of a lifetime bond, taking Marielle with him. She followed his movements easily, leaning into him as he sat in the saddle.
He could feel Nyra growing hotter between his legs as she gathered the unthinkable amount of strength it would take her to burn hot enough to melt dragon scales. She was young, younger than any other dragon he had known to close a Mourning.
Fedryc closed his eyes as pain and suffering traveled down the bond to him. She hurt, burning so hot, and she still had to hurt more. He readily accepted the pain, knowing that sharing would lessen Nyra’s part of it. The pain grew and grew until all he could feel was a blazing white agony and the world around vanished to be consumed by fire and grief.
It spread out of him, all that pain and anger at losing a man he had never known, but who had shaped his life by his absence more than he could ever have done with his presence.
Then it was finally done and Fedryc opened his eyes. His father’s flesh and his dragon’s were gone, reduced to powdery ashes, leaving only the shapes of the man and beast behind, melded together for all eternity.
Fedryc stepped down from Nyra, holding Marielle, who was still and teary eyed, against him. The dragoness cradled the shapes in her talons—impossibly large for her, but still, she took flight as was her duty.
He watched Nyra leave in the night sky of this strange planet. Shortly after, the assembly left, one by one, carried on dragons back to where they belonged.
Finally, when all the strangers were gone, Fedryc turned to look at the woman who had stood at his side all along.
“Where is Nyra taking them?” Marielle watched the empty sky, a look of wonder and incredulity on her face.
“No one knows where the dragons take the dead. Some say they fly to the Night Land, where all the dead dragons and their Draekon fly together.” Fedryc looked at Marielle’s face, at the marvel in her eyes. How he would love to be so innocent again. “But really, no one knows.”
Marielle nodded, her eyes lost in the empty sky, her expression dreamy.
“One day, this will be you and Nyra.” She spoke to the night. “And maybe one of our children’s dragons will carry you away.”
“No, little firebrand,” Fedryc corrected her gently, and was rewarded by her clear gray eyes set on him. “One day, it will be you, Nyra and me. You are my Draekarra. You and I will fly in the Night Lands together.”
Marielle’s smile was soft as she turned and looked away, toward that distant land where Nyra had gone.
“But not for a long time. Not for a very, very long time.”
He wrapped his arms around her and stared over her head. He would make sure to keep his promise.
Even if he had to reduce his entire kingdom to ashes.
Chapter 11
The door to their apartments closed and Marielle almost shuddered with relief. The Mourning ceremony had been the scariest experience of her entire life.
“It is over.” Fedryc’s voice came from behind her, soothing as only his could be. “They’re all gone.”
Marielle turned to Fedryc and was once more struck by the majesty of him. Clad in a red silk jacket to match Nyra’s scales and her own gown, with his dark hair and honey-colored skin, he was the epitome of power and male beauty. With his sharp features and silver eyes reflecting the light, he looked more alien than he ever had, there in that room, surrounded by expensive Draekon furniture and Delradon technology.
He stopped a few feet from her, his face unreadable as he looked at Marielle.
“I’m sorry,” Marielle said then, when Fedryc frowned, she added, “About your father. I never told you how sorry I am that you lost him.”
Fedryc smiled but it was sad and didn’t reach his eyes.
“I do not mourn Aymond Haal.” He spoke quietly, almost like he regretted his own words.
“You were not close to him?” She shouldn’t be surprised. The rich and powerful didn’t have time for their children, always hiring other people to do what they should have been doing.
“I did not know the man.” Fedryc shook his head, then looked up over her head and to the desert far away on the other side of the window. “He sent me away to live at the Emperor’s castle when I was five years old. Since then, I only met him a couple of times when he came to Dagmar for official business.”
Marielle watched this man who had taken care of her with so much fierce possessiveness over the last few days. They had shared mind-shattering pleasure and faced deadly threats together, but she barely knew him.
“But that’s so young.” She shook her head. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. It seemed so cold, even for the Draekons. “How did your mother agree to this?”
Fedryc’s face slackened just a fraction and his eyes became remote, unseeing.
“She died giving birth to me.” His voice was flat, emotionless. “The doctors did everything they could, but in the end, no one could save her.”
“Your father loved her.” Marielle’s hands fidgeted in front of her stomach. She wanted so much to touch him but she was afraid he would stop talking. And she needed to know him, understand him. “He never mated another woman after her?”
“Nakia was his Draekarra.” Fedryc’s voice wasn’t flat anymore, it was heavy and breathless, such a fearsome change from his usual stoic countenance. “When she died, a part of him died with her. He never forgave me for it. That is why he sent me away. Because the more I reminded him of the love he lost, the more he hated me.”
Marielle’s breath left her body and her hands clenched painfully on her arms. There was such a depth of pain in Fedryc’s eyes, imbued in his voice, she wasn’t sure what to say. If anything she could say would be enough.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Her own voice shook, sobs just under the surface of her words at the cruelty of making a child grow up thinking he’d robbed his father of the love of his life. “You were her son. She would have wanted you to be loved.”
“He couldn’t.” Fedryc turned his silver stare to her. “You don’t understand. Aymond loved Nakia more than life itself. She was his Draekarra, and my coming into the world robbed him of her. I don’t blame him for resenting me.”
These words were so cruel, tears fell down her cheek. Fedryc looked at her face, then his fingertip brushed the salty droplets.
“It was unfair.” Her voice broke and she couldn’t speak anymore.
“Fair has nothing to do with grief.” His fingers touched her face again, cradling her cheek. “I understand now, what he felt for her. My attachment to you is nothing less. You are woven into my soul, Marielle. Without you, the world is colorless.”
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe under the weight of the emotions that gripped her. All that grief, all that loneliness.
Fedryc pulled her in and her arms closed around him, hard, like she could shield him from the ghost of a past best left behind. A past that was all too present, all around them. In the threat that still loomed over them like a crow’s shadow.
Marielle stayed in Fedryc’s embrace for a long time, until the lump in her throat had reduced and she could think clearly again. “Did you find what you were looking for? Do you have a suspect for your father’s murder?”
She leaned into him instinctively and was rewarded by the warmth of his skin on her naked shoulder. Incredible how she had come to seek his touch every time she was scared.
How fast she had come to rely on him. Need him.
“No.” Fedryc pulled her closer and she rested her head on his shoulder, his breath on the side of her neck, hot and comforting. “No one who was smart or powerful enough to have slipped through my father’s defenses. He was too suspicious, too accustomed to the dangers of being the High Lord of a rich kingdom to have let any of those greedy cowards close e
nough to slip Venemum Ardere in Nissar’s drink.”
“Not even Lord Anion?” Marielle’s lips pursed involuntarily at the memory of the man.
“That man was the least likely of them all. No, the person I’m looking for is much, much smarter than that. And has everything to lose now that you are my Draekarra.”
“You’re not planning on giving Silva away to him, right?”
“That worm isn’t going to lay a finger on my cousin.” Fedryc growled deep and low to underline his point. “But Lord Anion is not what I want you to think about just now. I have waited all day to have you to myself.”
He pulled her chin up and his mouth closed on hers. This kiss was different than last time. It wasn’t just a claim, it was a plea for love that made Marielle hungry for him. This man made of hardness and power needed her just as much as she needed him.
Fire spread in her body and she answered his claiming kiss, her hands running over the back of his neck and through his silky hair. Fedryc’s hands were everywhere on her body, grabbing her ass, then running along her waist and over her breasts, his thumb rubbing the taut nipples pushing through her dress.
Hot wetness pooled between her legs and a now familiar aching need pulsed at her core. She wanted him again, wanted that mind-shattering pleasure he’d brought her before.
She reached down, reluctantly leaving the feeling of Fedryc’s hair, and closed both hands around the bulge at his groin. His cock stirred in her fingers, throbbing, struggling to break free. Fedryc broke the kiss and inhaled shakily as Marielle rubbed up and down his imprisoned cock.
She felt her lips pull up in a sensual smile as his hands grabbed her ass, and he growled deeply. The sound turned her on even more, the way he restrained the beast inside of him. That beast she wanted so desperately to break free.
“I want you,” Marielle whispered against his throat, and was rewarded by Fedryc’s deep shiver.
