by Mary Auclair
“Yes. He truly is.”
“I will find your brother.” Fedryc spoke low, but his eyes were fierce. “Trust me, Marielle.”
Fedryc lifted her chin, and she stared into his mesmerizing eyes. She truly believed him. He would keep his promise and find Devan. All she could do was hope it would be soon enough.
But could she hope? How could she not? She couldn’t give up on Devan, and Fedryc was her only real chance.
“You know what he’ll do to Devan.” She shook her head against the images coming back to her mind. She couldn’t get sucked into the pain, she had to focus on the future, on what she could do to help. “Ignio Marula will hurt him more. He could kill him.”
“He has to keep him alive.” Fedryc’s words were meant to reassure but they were little comfort. “Devan is the only leverage he has against me. If he kills him then he knows nothing will stop me from sending my men after him in an open hunt—after him and anyone remotely associated with him. He’ll lose everything he spent his life building.”
“He could do it anyway, just as revenge.” Marielle’s heart bled at the idea, and it was only Fedryc’s strength that prevented her from falling to her knees. “He’s not a man who tolerates a slight, no matter who it comes from.”
Fedryc pushed her firmly away from his body and stared down at her. His silver eyes were strong and deadly serious.
“I know men like Ignio Marula.” He spoke slowly, making sure she paid attention to each of his words. “He won’t risk losing what he spent an entire life building. He’s too greedy, too set in his own ways. I will find him, and I will find your brother along with him.”
Marielle held Fedryc’s silver eyes for a long time. Slowly, she saw the truth in Fedryc’s words. He was right. Ignio Marula loved nothing above his money, above his standing in the slums as an absolute master. He was a devious man without morals but he was also cunning, too smart not to understand that killing Devan would be his own death sentence.
“You’re right.” She nodded. “Ignio Marula can’t kill Devan. He’s in hiding now, and he has many allies in the capital, but he also has many enemies. Sooner or later, someone will betray him, and then you can kill him for me.”
“With pleasure.” Fedryc’s mouth took a cruel, savage line as he spoke. “I will end his life, alongside anyone else’s who made his empire of misery possible.”
It comforted her to turn anguish to anger, and anger to purpose. As her worries dulled to an aching pain in the pit of her stomach, Marielle took the time to truly look at Fedryc. Deep lines of worry were carved in his features and there was a cruel edge to his mouth.
“That’s not all, is it?”
His eyes sharpened with surprise, then softened. He sighed and passed a hand through his dark, silky hair. “No, it’s not,” he said with reluctance, his eyes leaving hers to look somewhere far away. “But I don’t want to trouble you any more. This burden is not yours to bear.”
Marielle chuckled, then frowned when she understood he was serious.
“If I am to be your Draekarra,” she began, and lifted a brow at Fedryc’s sudden growl. “Okay, because I’m your Draekarra, you have to tell me everything. This trust thing, it goes both ways. I trust you, but you have to trust me too.”
Fedryc looked at her for a long time, his silver eyes going a darker, deeper shade as they trailed down her face to her mouth, then back up. “You are a wonder, Marielle Jansen.” His arm pulled her closer and she welcomed the warmth of his skin through the silk of her dress. “It is my duty to protect you from harm, yet you want to share the burden of Aalstad with me.”
“I do. You can tell me everything.”
He inhaled, his silver eyes full of doubt then, finally, he nodded.
“Ignio Marula works for an order called the Knat-Kanassis.” His eyes became even darker. “The order believes that once the pure of blood are the only ones alive, this world will be a paradise for Draekons and their dragons. They believe the mixing of blood cast a curse on the Draekons that made our women few and infertile, and our dragons smaller in size. All others—all the mixed-bloods and those who don’t view the worlds as they do—have to die for them to have their paradise.”
Marielle stared at Fedryc, frowning. “What would they want with Devan?” This just didn’t make sense. “We’re not Draekons or even Delradon and it’s not like Devan can have a baby.”
“The Knat-Kanassis hate humans most of all.” Fedryc pulled his arms away and took a step to the side. “You and all the other women who are compatible with Draekons threaten their view of the world. The children born of human women are stronger than the Draekon have seen in many centuries, their dragons bigger. Almost none die, whereas before, as many as one in three passed before their tenth birthday.”
“That is why they came after Devan through Ignio Marula.” Marielle felt a cold stone settle between her ribs, full of anger and hatred. “For some fanatical belief that killing us all would bring them power and glory.” Marielle scoffed, shaking her head at the thought of all her pain being caused for such folly.
“They killed my father.” Fedryc turned his head slightly toward her and she saw his eyes, those two silver mirrors full of the same rage she felt. “There was a man in Ignio Marula’s tavern and he confirmed the suspicions I had all along. It was them. The Knat-Kanassis killed Lord Aymond Haal to take control of Aalstad.”
“But didn’t you say the person who killed your father had his trust? How could Lord Aymond trust some religious zealots if he wanted his own son to mate with a human woman?”
Fedryc’s mouth curved down and his brow creased with a fearsome scowl. “And therein lies the biggest threat of them all. Someone close to us is working with the Knat-Kanassis and has obtained Venemum Ardere from them.”
Marielle held Fedryc’s stare in silence for a long time.
“What now?” she asked him for the second time in the short while since she’d met him.
“Now, we close ranks and we find that son-of-a-bitch before he can do more damage.” Fedryc kissed her, then left for whatever tasks he needed to perform as High Lord. Marielle hugged herself and for the first time since she’d met him, she was afraid… for him.
Fedryc sat on his father’s throne. No, not his father’s anymore. His throne.
Below him stood a tall, well-muscled young Draekon lord, his face set in aristocratic, confident lines as Fedryc read the letter of genetic compatibility once more.
His distaste for Lord Anion threatened to boil over, but he knew he had to tread carefully. Genetic compatibility was not a light matter for Draekons, and the law was clearly on Lord Anion’s side.
Henron stood slightly behind him on his right, his face closed off and in silence, but Fedryc could see the signs of anger on his friend that no one else would recognize. The way the left corner of his mouth was slightly turned down, and the tiny vein at his temple that throbbed just a little too hard.
Fedryc agreed with him. This was an unacceptable request.
To the left of the young Draekon Lord stood Isobel and Silva. The girl wore an excited, almost giddy expression while his aunt’s face remained as expressionless as ever. He knew he would disappoint both, but it mattered not.
“I am glad that you found a compatible mate, Lord Anion.” Fedryc folded the official letter carefully before handing it over to Henron. “But I am afraid my cousin is too young for a mating. You may come back with the same request in four years’ time, and I will be more than happy to accept your claim.”
At Lord Anion’s side, Silva’s young face twisted with confusion, like she couldn’t understand what she had heard. Isobel watched, her face still unmoving but her eyes full of surprise as she stared up at her nephew.
Fedryc nodded to Henron, who climbed gracefully down the stairs and handed the folded letter back to Lord Anion. The young Draekon’s face twisted with an almost comical effect, changing from a confident, almost smug expression to one of complete confusion.
; “But I have the letter. She is compatible.” Lord Anion cast a disdainful glance at Henron before turning away from him, not reaching for the letter. “Silva Derrios is of age, she can be mated.”
“Only fools send a girl of seventeen into a mating contract,” Fedryc answered in a cold, controlled tone. Behind him, Nyra raised her large head and peered at the Draekon man down the stairs, an annoyed look on her features.
Lord Anion’s gaze slid to the dragoness and fear flashed in his eyes. He was not a complete fool, then. But soon, the fear left and was replaced with anger. “You can’t refuse the mating!” he shouted, his features full of outrage. “She’s mine.”
Fedryc got to his feet slowly, Nyra stirring behind him as he climbed down the steps to stand over the young Lord Anion of Virhot, a smaller kingdom neighboring his own. Lord Anion had an aristocratic face, his features fine and slim, almost feminine in their delicacy, and the outrage on his face betrayed a nature governed by entitlement and capriciousness. A mind that couldn’t comprehend why he was being refused something he should not have asked for in the first place.
“You are sorely mistaken, my Lord.” Fedryc growled the words, not hiding his hostility. Lord Anion swallowed compulsively, his eyes darting from Silva to Fedryc in fast succession. “My cousin is not a possession you can claim at your will. She is a young woman, in many ways, still a girl. She is not ready to become anyone’s mate, much less a mother.”
“A female’s fate is to bring heirs to her mate,” Lord Anion retorted through clenched teeth despite the fear gleaming in his eyes. “What you really want is to prevent my kingdom from having an heir that is of pure blood while you will have an abomination for offspring.”
The words hung in the air for a second before Fedryc’s fist moved. Lord Anion landed five feet away on his ass, his nose bent crooked at a sickening angle and blood dripping down his once pristine white coat.
“Leave my house, leave my kingdom!” Fedryc spoke as power coursed through his veins like a poison, making his hands itch with the desire to hurt the man more. “And never return.”
“You hit me.” Lord Anion lifted his hand to his nose, then cried out when his fingers returned bright red with blood. His eyes turned cold and murderous as he glared at Fedryc. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. I won’t take that insult so lightly.”
“You should count yourself lucky I’m allowing you to leave with your life.” Fedryc felt Nyra move behind him and he covered the distance to the young Draekon Lord, towering over him as Lord Anion pushed himself to his feet. Fear was clear on the other Draekon’s features as he glanced over to Nyra and then back to Fedryc. “Run while you still can, and forget your claim on my cousin. A piece of dragonshit like you will never have her.”
Lord Anion’s lips lifted in an ugly sneer and the young Draekon turned on his heel, then stalked away through the large throne room, the sound of his steps reverberating off the ceiling until the door closed on his stiff back.
“What have you done?” Silva’s voice made Fedryc turn around. The girl stomped into the middle of the room, past Henron and toward him. “He came here at my invitation, and you break his nose and then send him back?”
“That man was not worthy of you,” Fedryc answered, wiping Lord Anion’s blood from his knuckles with disgust. “He will never set foot in my kingdom again.”
“You can’t do this to me!” Silva cried out, then turned to her mother for support.
“My darling girl.” Isobel glanced at Fedryc, then turned to take both her daughter’s hands in hers. “Maybe Fedryc isn’t wrong here. You are young and—”
“No!” Silva pulled her hands out of her mother’s. “I was going to be the Lady of one of the richest kingdoms in the entire continent. Virhot should be mine!”
“You will have another match.” Fedryc shook his head, surprised at the girl’s outburst and at his aunt’s support. “When you are twenty-one years old, you may accept any offer you deem worthy. Except from the Lord of Virhot.”
“I won’t forgive you for this.”
Silva stepped closer to Fedryc, and he frowned at the anger in her gaze. She was young but there was something in her eyes, in her soul. Something old and ugly, a greed for power and riches that he hadn’t seen before.
He should have given the girl more attention when he’d arrived on Earth. It wasn’t good to let her grow into a woman hungry for power over conscience.
Before he could answer, Silva whirled around and stalked away, her gown flowing around her slim body with an angry grace.
“I was a year younger than her when my father sent me to Lord Derrios.” Isobel surprised him by speaking and Fedryc stared at his aunt. The woman’s expression showed sadness, but also relief. “My father wanted a powerful match, with the money and status that came with it. It robbed me of my youth, robbed me of my happiness. I don’t want the same for my daughter.”
Fedryc stared at his aunt in silence for a good few moments, trying to wrap his mind around the new information. The world of Draekons and their power was cruel in a way he had not been exposed to in the Emperor’s castle. In a heartless way he could never accept.
“Aymond would have accepted the claim, whether I was happy about it or not.” Isobel looked straight at him with an open honesty he hadn’t seen in her before. “I thank you for this.”
Fedryc watched his aunt as she made her way out of the throne room, her steps slow and elegant. When she was finally gone, he turned to Henron.
“You made an enemy,” Henron said simply. “Virhot is small in size, but it is a powerful kingdom, and that boy is stupid enough to fight for his claim.”
“Yes, you are right.” Fedryc glanced at the door through which Isobel had disappeared. “I have made an enemy today, but I might have made an ally as well.”
Chapter 14
Marielle stood at the window, the cold wind of the desert night on her body. She hugged herself for warmth, but there was none to be had in her entire being. It had been a week. A week since Fedryc had found Devan in Ignio Marula’s tavern and almost lost his life trying to rescue the poor boy. All she could think of was Devan, bloodied and at death’s door. How could things have turned out so wrong? Then again, how could they have not?
Had he truly gambled his life for Ignio Marula’s niece? She should have known. She should have seen through Devan’s late nights and long work hours.
Tears stung her eyes and Marielle cursed under her breath.
“I never thought words like that could escape such lovely lips.” A familiar, masculine voice sounded behind her, and soon, a warm glow radiated at her back as strong arms closed around her waist. “I might mistake you for an old, old sailor.”
The words lifted Marielle’s lips into a weak smile, and she held the arms tightly around her body. “I have loads more I can show you,” she answered with a light chuckle. “Words no little Draekon Lord has learned.”
“Is that true?” Fedryc spun her around, a sexy smile on his perfect lips, but his eyes instantly became serious when he saw her face. “You were crying?”
Marielle shrugged and looked away but he brought her head up again. She sighed, then nodded. It was no use hiding the truth, she was worried sick about Devan.
“I can’t stop thinking about him.” Her voice shook, and tears bloomed anew in her eyes. She wiped them away with an angry gesture. “Did Henron find out anything more about Devan, or Rela? I can’t believe he was in love with her and didn’t tell me.”
“You cared for him, worked to put food on his plate, a roof over his head.” It wasn’t a question, Fedryc simply stated the facts. “You were like a mother to him, the only mother he really knew. If he had told you, what would you have told him?”
“That he was a fool,” Marielle began, and realized right away what she had said. She continued, sadness filling the void between each of her words. “I would have told him he was a fool, that he had to stay away from the girl. That she wasn’t our problem, that sh
e wasn’t his problem. That he was too young to know what love was.”
“So, he kept his love a secret and made a deal with Ignio Marula to buy Rela’s freedom.” Fedryc spoke the words softly, but it felt like they flayed the skin of her face like hot irons. Because he was right. “Your brother damned himself for love. It wasn’t your fault. It’s all on Ignio Marula’s head, not on yours.”
“If only I had known.” Guilt bit stubbornly into her, and Marielle shook her head. “I would have helped.”
“There was nothing you could have done about Ignio Marula, or about Devan’s love for Rela.” Fedryc’s voice spoke the truth, but it did nothing to temper the despair that inflated inside her chest with every breath. “Henron will find him. He’s got eyes everywhere looking for him. I put up such a high reward for him, there is no one he can trust. Soon, we’ll find Devan.”
“But will it be soon enough?”
Fedryc didn’t answer but he pulled her closer, and Marielle nestled her face against his chest, inhaling his good, clean scent. His heart beat beneath her cheek and she closed her eyes, trying to hear only the steady drumbeat. It put a balm on her gnawing fear, to hear it so strong, so steady.
“Come away from the window. You’re way too cold.”
She followed him, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, as he guided her out of the bedroom and into the dining room of the spacious apartments. A splendid meal was waiting for them on the table, and Marielle eyed the food with large, hungry eyes.
“So much.” She sat in the chair Fedryc pulled out for her and inhaled the rich smells of the meal. Her stomach growled and grumbled and her mouth watered instantly. She still wasn’t used to the abundance that filled the Draekon’s table three times a day, every day. It only made her feel more guilty as Fedryc piled food on her plate. Roasted meat, grilled vegetables and baked potatoes, then a thick gravy dribbled over the mix. “You’re stuffing me!” Marielle exclaimed, but grabbed a fork and impatiently waited for Fedryc to sit down with his own plate in front of him, then ate with gusto.
