Caress of Fire (Dawn of Dragons Book 2)

by Mary Auclair

  “Found what?” Isobel twisted around, setting bewildered eyes on the guard, then on Fedryc.

  Fedryc gave his aunt one last look, then walked past her, past the guard and stared at the carved stone cup adorned with a silver lid. A dragon was curved on its surface, and three nestling circles were drawn on its belly.

  “Sacer sanguis.” Fedryc whispered the Knat-Kanassis words and behind him, the guard inhaled sharply in shock, or terror, or both. “Aeterna vita.”

  Fedryc pulled gloves from his belt, then carefully lifted the lid. Inside was an innocuous white powder, shimmering like it was lit from within. He knew what this was.

  “Venemum Ardere.”

  Behind him the guard took a step backward, so great was the fear of the poison. Fedryc put the lid back down on the cup, then walked past the guard whose face was now ashen.

  Isobel stood in the middle of her ransacked room, her eyes wide and her hands squeezing the folds of her dress compulsively. She opened her mouth to speak but Fedryc lifted a hand to silence her and she obeyed. Fear poured out of her skin like perfume and she darted a nervous glance at the door but didn’t move. She knew there was no escape.

  Fedryc closed his eyes, summoning the face of the girl, Asha, lying dead on her chair. Of Isobel, acting as though she had loved her. Of Rela and her broken body. Of Devan, tortured and left for dead.

  Of the refugees and their terrible, gut-wrenching fear.

  “You are a monster.” Fedryc looked at his aunt, his voice as cold and merciless as the beast inside. “There will be judgment. Nothing can save you now.”

  Isobel’s knees gave way and she fell, her head lowered in despair, but no sound left her mouth. She was too well-bred to lend herself to the indignity of begging for mercy.

  The Draekons had none.

  Chapter 25

  He should be awake by now.

  Devan’s external injuries were healed thanks to the Delradon medical technology, and his blood infection was a thing of the past. The skin on his back would always bear the traces of the abuse, but it was closed and pink. Healthy. Devan was healthy. He was still bone thin and pale, and his cheeks were hollow, but he wasn’t at death’s door anymore.

  Still, he did not wake up.

  Devan lay in the bed, his eyes closed and his body limp. He looked like he was sleeping but his sleep was like a maze, one he was lost in and couldn’t make his way out. As Marielle stared at his slack, swollen features, she couldn’t help but think he looked like he was calling out from somewhere deep inside his mind but no one could hear him.

  It made her want to scream and shake him until he finally opened his eyes and talked to her.

  A catatonic state, dissociation of the mind and body caused by trauma, that’s what Dr. Ylco called it. Because nothing else was wrong, the final wound had to be in Devan’s mind. There was no cure for it, not even in the Delradons’ medical arsenal. Devan’s mind had been fractured during his torture and there was no saying if it would ever be mended.

  “Wake up,” Marielle whispered, bringing her forehead to Devan’s, just like when they were little. “Please, open your eyes. I need you to wake up.”

  But only silence answered and her heart sank a little more. She hadn’t thought it was possible to hurt more, but every time she looked at Devan’s skeletal, bruised face, it overlapped in her mind with the childish sleeping face of the boy he had been, and another cut shot right between her ribs. Her heart bled and bled until she was sure she would die from the pain, but it was still beating steadily in her chest.

  Her hands went to her stomach, and she stroked it absently.

  How can I protect you when I couldn’t protect my brother?

  Pain and despair washed over Marielle and she lost herself in her fear. Fear of losing her brother all over again, even though he was asleep just in front of her. Then a noise came from behind her, a child’s muffled cry.

  Marielle pulled back from Devan, from her pain and her anguish. There was nothing more she could do for him but she could still help others. The refugees from Virhot had been sorted earlier and the sickest sent to the medical room to received much-needed help.

  Marielle cast a wide glance over the cramped medical suite filled with broken, sick bodies. Everywhere she looked, children and adults sat or lay down on narrow cots, some crying without making a sound, some staring at the empty air with remote, absent eyes. Eyes that had seen too much and now looked faraway. Eyes that would never unsee the horror that had ripped their lives apart, leaving only bloodied stumps behind.

  They were not as damaged as Devan, but not far from it, either.

  And she could help.

  Dr. Ylco worked tirelessly, buzzing between patients like an overworked bee, his face paler, thinner than usual. The man was taut like a string and he would snap at any time. No one could work as much and not break. No one except a Draekon, maybe. Isobel had done this to Devan, done this to all of them.

  I hope she dies slowly and painfully.

  The thought made her uneasy, because she meant it. Since Rela had been found, beaten and left for dead, a new emotion had blossomed inside Marielle. It had grown and grown like a stone between her ribs, searing cold and invasive until it was all she could feel. It was hatred; hatred for those who hurt the weaker, the innocent.

  And now her hatred had a face, had eyes, a mouth, silky black hair and a name. Isobel Haal was a monster like no other.

  Marielle pulled on the skin at the corner of her fingernail and pain answered, as reliable as ever. Her fingertips were raw by now, raw and bloodied, but she couldn’t control picking at them any more than she could control her hatred for Isobel Haal.

  It didn’t matter. She couldn’t help Devan but she could help the refugees. She could help Dr. Ylco. Marielle got to her feet and Rela looked at her. The girl was much better now, with only the faintest traces of bruises on her face.

  “Can you stay with Devan in case he wakes up? I have to help with the others.”

  Rela cast a wide glance around at the twenty or so people pressed in the medical suite, then nodded quietly. She had become so quiet in the last day—ever since the refugees came in with their stories of horror and murder, the mark of the Knat-Kanassis burned onto their bodies.

  If Devan didn’t wake up soon, Rela would be lost to silence altogether.

  Marielle turned her back to Devan and Rela and walked to Dr. Ylco. The Delradon was bent over an old man whose chest was slashed by a long wound, puffy and angry. The doctor worked with a strange device that emitted a pulsing blue light. Marielle frowned as she stared at the young doctor’s face. His cheeks were hollow and his lips chapped, his skin an ashen gray color. Dark circles underlined his reddened eyes.

  I should have done this sooner. I was too caught up in my own pain to see.

  “Just a bit more, and I’ll be able to cleanse the wound and seal it.” Dr. Ylco spoke in low tones, never breaking his concentration. Then, finally, he finished his work, and the old man’s skin glistened anew with a fresh pink glow. “Now, eat and sleep. You will be okay.”

  “What about you?” Marielle asked, and Dr. Ylco looked up at her with surprise but also the kind of exhaustion that couldn’t be ignored. “When was the last time you slept? The last time you ate?”

  “I don’t recall.” Dr. Ylco passed a hand through his short brown hair. He looked older, more fragile than ever before. “But it doesn’t matter. I can’t stop now. These people need me.”

  “You’re right.” Marielle crossed her arms. “But you won’t do them much good if you break down from exhaustion, will you?”

  When the doctor didn’t answer, his eyes hardening with pride, Marielle exhaled forcefully. What was it with men and refusing to accept help?

  “You’re coming with me now. I’m going to find you some food and a bed to sleep in for a few hours.” When the doctor opened his mouth to protest, Marielle lifted a hand in authority. “There will be plenty of time to kill yourself performing the task aft
er. Now, I’m the Lady of this house and I order you to eat and sleep. And you don’t want to disobey me.”

  Marielle lifted a brow in challenge and Dr. Ylco sighed with resignation, but also with relief.

  He must have been hanging on by a thread for a long time.

  She shooed him away into a back room, where a Delradon servant brought him a hot meal and a cup of wine. His eyes were heavy before he even finished eating. Marielle closed the door on him, promising to come back after two hours, but already deciding the doctor could use at least five hours of sleep.

  Then she turned around to see Fedryc standing over Devan, his face closed off and his eyes cold. She hugged herself. She hadn’t seen him since the refugees had come. It had taken a toll on him.

  He wasn’t the same man who walked down the dungeon steps on that terrible day. He looked older, his sculpted features harsher, his eyes colder.

  Her heart lurched but she didn’t move.

  “Fedryc.” Marielle said his name softly and it sent a current of whispers across the medical room. “You came back.”

  Fedryc looked up at her, and she saw in his expression that there was something hurting him. She walked up to him and stood on the other side of the bed where Devan lay, looking up at him expectantly.

  “What did you find out?” She was scared to ask, but knew he needed to talk. Whatever burden he carried, she needed to share it with him.

  “It was her.” Fedryc shook his head, his voice low and somber. “Isobel killed my father. She also killed the girl, Asha. She ordered the massacre in the border town. She did it all. She’s the snake in our bed.” His voice was steady, but she knew him well enough to see the signs of the pain from the betrayal. “I had her and Hydrad brought to the dungeon.”

  Marielle stared, wide-eyed, not knowing what to say or do. Fedryc had done it. He had solved his father’s murder and uncovered the head of the malevolent order that had wreaked such havoc on so many lives.

  “So you did it.” She blinked, then hugged herself. “What are you going to do to her now?”

  “She will be judged after I wipe the Knat-Kanassis from my kingdom and restore order.” Fedryc nodded to himself. He stared at her, then seemed to come to some kind of reluctant conclusion. “Nyra still hasn’t come back. There is no dragon to protect Aalstad.”

  “I know.” Marielle spoke softly, knowing Fedryc was hurt by her absence. “Nyra will come back. I’m sure of it.”

  “In the meantime, this is too dangerous. I have to send you and Silva to Katanie, under Lord Aldric Darragon’s protection.”

  “What? You want to send us away?” Marielle was confused, then she frowned. “Why?”

  Fedryc inclined his head like Marielle had just slapped him and his mouth curved with a grim determination. Marielle’s breath caught as she understood their troubles were far from over.

  “Lord Anion of Virhot has declared war on Aalstad.” The simple words left Fedryc’s mouth in an even, controlled voice but they had the effect of a punch in the guts. “I go into battle immediately.

  “War?” This had been the biggest fear all along. “Is the entire kingdom really lost to the Knat-Kanassis then?”

  “Yes.” That single word, merciless and sharp. “Lord Anion has at least one ally that we know of, but with Henron gone, his sources have gone silent. There could be as many as three kingdoms gone to the madness already.”

  Marielle fell silent at Fedryc’s words. Her eyes latched onto his beautiful, sharply cut features. His silver eyes were a façade of strength and control but she knew better than to trust that. Behind her, people started whispering. Fedryc hadn’t bothered to hide what he’d had to say. Because it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

  “But without Nyra, you can’t possibly win.” Marielle pulled on her fingertip and pain answered, as reliable as ever. She understood now. “You want to buy us time.”

  She breathed hard through her mouth as spots of darkness bloomed in her vision.

  “Silva won’t abandon her mother.” Marielle shook her head. “Did you talk to her?”

  “She won’t talk to me.” Fedryc shook his head, regret clear on his face. “You will have to speak with her. Make her understand.”

  “What about the rest of them?” Marielle indicated the people in the medical room with a wide gesture. “What about you?”

  “My place is here. I am High Lord of Aalstad.” Fedryc answered her with a tired look, and sadness shone briefly in his eyes. His hand closed on her shoulder and his thumb ran the length of her collarbone. “I will stay and fight with my men, as is my duty.”

  Marielle shook her head. She couldn’t believe it. After all they had been through, he wanted to send her away?

  “What about my duty? I can’t leave you. I certainly can’t leave them.” She once again made a wide gesture to include the sick people in the room, then looked down at her brother, still sleeping, unconcerned by what was going on. “And I will never leave him.”

  Fedryc straightened and his eyes grew cold and harsh. His mouth curved in a cruel line and he pulled his hand away from her shoulder. “I already gave the order. You will go to Katanie with Silva, and that’s an order. The rest of the people will follow shortly after you.”

  He stared at her, waiting for her answer. She didn’t make him wait long.

  “No.” Marielle lifted her chin slightly but kept her voice low. “I won’t obey. I’m not leaving you, I’m not leaving anyone. I’m your Draekarra. You said this house is as much mine as it is yours.”

  “It’s too dangerous.” Fedryc bit out his words, not caring about the people around them who looked up with wide eyes. “They can’t get their hands on you. Save yourself and save our child.”

  Marielle stared at him, the cruel reality of what he was saying sinking in gradually. “I can’t accept that.” She shook her head. Fear gripped her ribs, compressed her heart, and her breathing came hard and shallow. “I can’t live without you. You can’t go. We can fight the Knat-Kanassis from Katanie. Just come with us.”

  His hands closed around her shoulders but she resisted the pull of Fedryc’s body. Accepting his embrace would mean she accepted what he said, what he wanted her to do. And she couldn’t. Dying would be easier than what he asked.

  “If I don’t fight, the Knat-Kanassis will invade. They will take over Aalstad and the richest kingdom this side of the continent will be theirs.” Fedryc looked away, over her head, his thoughts lost in the violence to come. Lost in his grief for Nyra. “No human, no mixed-blood will be left alive. The Knat-Kanassis will have a stronghold on this continent, on this planet. A Blood War will be waged on this Earth, and millions, hundreds of millions, might die. One life is not worth it.”

  “To you, your life isn’t worth it. But to me it is.” Anger flared through her despair at his remoteness. At the cold way he contemplated his own death. Like it was something of little importance. Like it wouldn’t shatter her entire world. “Lord Aldric pledged his allegiance. Rhyl and Myral will fight if you wait for them.”

  “Myral won’t abandon her dragonet.” Fedryc took a step toward the door, then another, before he stopped. “Rhyl is mighty, but even he cannot fly across a continent in under an hour. That’s how long it will take Lord Anion to wipe us out if I don’t go to him. If I fight, it will buy you the time you need to evacuate the castle.”

  Marielle felt something break, deep between her ribs, like fabric ripping. The nauseating feeling of despair took her in its freezing embrace, stronger than ever.

  “How can you do this?” Her voice was choked but when Fedryc looked down at her, his eyes were cold. “You’re leaving when you know you won’t come back.”

  “I am saving what matters most.” His voice was cold and remote—full of duty, honor and all that bullshit she didn’t care about. “You will lead the evacuation into Darragon. The transports are ready. Make sure you put the women and children first, the old and the injured as well. The guards I’m leaving behind will obey your ord
ers.”

  “What matters most.” Marielle let out a bitter laugh. “And what about what matters most to me? Does that count?”

  He turned to her and the cold drained from his eyes but that iron resolve was still there.

  “You matter more than my entire kingdom.” His words were heavy with sadness, with a love that blindsided her. “Your life and the life that you carry inside you are all that matters. That is why I’m going to do what I must. If I run away with you, we can hide in the far corners of this Earth and live together for a while, but it won’t last. If I allow the Knat-Kanassis to triumph here, they will get to us one day and then they will be too strong to be stopped, they will rip you from my arms and kill you—you and our child.”

  Fedryc paused, his eyes on her. All Marielle could look at was him, all she could hear was him. Him and that love he had for her that ran deeper than anyone in her life before, deeper than anyone ever would.

  “All I wanted since I first laid eyes on you was to grow old in your arms, but that won’t happen now.” Fedryc reached for her and his hand cupped her cheek. “All I can give you is your life. Take your brother, take your people, and fly far away to Darragon. Live, Marielle. Live for us both.”

  The walls around her heart fell apart and Marielle’s knees hit the floor. Anguish washed over her and she shook her head violently, tears falling down her eyes like two rivers. Her world turned black and she was engulfed in her pain.

  Then strong arms wrapped around her and she searched blindly for the comfort of Fedryc’s body. His hands cupped her face and she buried her head against him while her arms locked around him like she could force him to stay there with her.

  “I can’t lose you.” Marielle managed to speak between the sobs that wracked her body. “I’m not strong enough.”

  Like he knew what she needed, Fedryc just held her in silence, his arms around her shoulders, breathing into her hair. The tears flowed and ebbed, but the pain didn’t subside. She simply couldn’t lose him.