The Dragon Legion Collection 9

by Deborah Cooke

  Alexander stood by the doorway and breathed deeply, familiarizing himself with everything in the house in an attempt to correct his oversight. He smelled now the three slaves in the house, two in the kitchen and one outside. He smelled the olive presses in the storage room, the basis of Cetos’ trade. He smelled the burro being led by the slave at the outer door to a lean-to where it would be stabled.

  The evidence had been in the house, but Alexander had been too consumed with desire for his wife to notice it.

  He had never met Cetos, but had heard his name. He knew him to be a merchant, much older than Katina, and a man who had been content to offer to marry the woman whose family believed she should serve the gods. He remembered also that Katina had disliked Cetos—or at least the differences in their ages—from their first encounter.

  Yet she had chosen Cetos in the end.

  She had pursued Cetos.

  He supposed that had to be a measure of her desperation. He had abandoned her with an infant son. The fault was his, both that she had made such a marriage and that speaking of it put such shadows in her eyes. He’d heard the accusation in her tone, and her conviction that she’d had little choice.

  The fact was that Katina had been poorly served, and Alexander was to blame. Eight years with no tidings? He couldn’t say that his faith would have been stalwart in her place.

  Alexander might have chastised himself and regretted his choices—even though he knew he hadn’t really had a choice—but he smelled the brimstone of anger.

  A man’s anger.

  The scent teased his nostrils and drew him closer to the door. A heavy footstep sounded on the cobblestones, and a slave murmured to a man who responded in an impatient voice. Alexander stood silently in the shadows of the doorway, knowing who it must be. Outside, Katina stood with her hands folded before herself and her head bowed, a demure pose that made her almost unrecognizable as the opinionated and outspoken woman he loved.

  Anger lit within Alexander that Cetos wanted Katina to be anything other than what she was. His prize of a wife was still poorly served, but now by this husband.

  A much older man stepped into the courtyard and surveyed it with dissatisfaction. His face was creased in lines of discontent and there was something mean about his mouth. He was a large and swarthy man with small eyes. Katina hastened to remove his cloak, speaking to him in a subservient manner that Alexander despised.

  He remembered all too clearly how she had averted her gaze when he’d asked if Cetos had been good to her. One glance at them together told Alexander the truth. The man was like a seething bull, filled with violence and seeking only a target for his wrath.

  He wondered whether Katina had felt the weight of this man’s hand and his own fury grew.

  Alexander knew his valiant Katina would take blows herself to save any other soul in the household, even a slave. She would invite them, to protect another. Had she done as much to save Lysander? The idea that she would be in a situation that might compel her to do as much infuriated Alexander, never mind that he was responsible for it. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the shimmer of the change.

  He caught a whiff of a deep and rotten smell and his eyes widened in surprise. Was Cetos a Slayer? How could that be? There would be no Slayers for at least a thousand years, until some of the Pyr turned against mankind. All the same, the residue of the scent clung to Cetos, like the scent of a wood fire lingering in one’s cloak the next day.

  There were no Slayers in this time. Alexander chose to distrust his impression. Cetos must have visited some foul place on his travels and that was the scent that clung to him. A horrible one, but not Slayer.

  Despite his rationalization, the scent put him on edge. He felt himself hovering on the cusp of the shift, ready to fight to defend his mate.

  One thing was for certain: Alexander wasn’t leaving this house again without ensuring Katina’s safety forever. He would see justice served, even if it meant revealing his secret to her abruptly and without explanation. He wished too late that he had told her the truth years before, but Pelias had always counseled secrecy.

  He had the power to set her free of this man and he would use it. Whether Katina wanted him as her husband afterward was something he couldn’t anticipate.

  That didn’t affect his resolve.

  * * *

  Katina knew she’d made a mistake in welcoming Alexander with such passion. Her excuse was that she’d been overwhelmed by her love for him, and her relief that he was returned. She’d never been able to hide her emotions well, and with Alexander, she felt so much that she couldn’t contain her feelings at all.

  She knew though that no explanation could excuse her infidelity.

  One look at the expression on Cetos’ face filled her with dread. He was a merchant who didn’t abide any situation in which he received less than his due. Katina saw the glint in his eyes and knew he suspected her of cheating him of his full measure.

  Katina raced to take his cloak from his shoulders, doing her best to appear demure. That usually pleased him, although it wasn’t an easy manner for her to adopt.

  “Where is your son?” he asked with impatience. “Doesn’t he come to greet me?”

  “Lysander is gone,” she admitted, hoping the news would improve his mood.

  It didn’t.

  “What is this?” he demanded, seizing her arm.

  Katina didn’t understand his anger, although she didn’t doubt it. He’d never grabbed her so roughly before and she didn’t like the change. “They came from Sparta...”

  “Who?” Cetos shook her. “Who came from Sparta?”

  Katina pulled her arm from his grip and took a step backward, unable to explain his attitude. “A man named Pelias. He came to collect Lysander for the agoge.”

  Cetos exhaled mightily, as if mastering his fury. Katina was perplexed. Cetos didn’t usually like to have Lysander around. It made no sense that her son’s absence was making him angrier than she’d ever seen him.

  On one wall of the courtyard were a number of shelves, upon which were displayed Katina’s pots and bowls. Cetos went to the display, picking up a pitcher and acting as if he intended to make a purchase. She thought his mood improved. Maybe his journey had been arduous. “And you let the boy go with him? A stranger?”

  The thrum of anger underscored his words, against all expectation. “He said he’d known Alexander. He told me several stories to prove it. I had no reason to doubt him.”

  “He might have lied!” Cetos snapped.

  “I thought you would be glad Lysander was gone.” Katina realized she was still holding Cetos’ cloak.

  Cetos turned her pitcher with such deliberate care that his move drew Katina’s eye. He’d never looked so closely at her work, and she doubted that particular piece deserved such scrutiny. “When was this?”

  “Three days ago.”

  “Three days. And they went to Sparta?”

  “I believe so.”

  Cetos abruptly spun and flung the pitcher across the courtyard. It smashed against the opposite wall, near the doorway to the bedroom. Zeta appeared in the arched opening to the kitchen, her eyes wide, but Katina dismissed her with a curt gesture. The girl fled with obvious relief.

  “Worthless bitch!” Cetos roared to Katina’s shock. “How dare you send the boy away without consulting me first?”

  This was ridiculous. “Lysander isn’t your son,” Katina retorted. “His fate was mine to decide, and I always believed he should follow in the tradition of his father. It’s what Alexander would have wanted for him...”

  Cetos seized the shelves and pulled hard, sending the entire structure cascading to the ground. Katina’s pots shattered with a deafening noise as she watched in astonishment and dismay.

  She took a step toward the shattered ceramics, then halted when she saw the rage in Cetos’ eyes. She backed away from him warily, knowing that something critical had changed between them.

  She wondered if she
would live to tell of it.

  “You think yourself so clever, don’t you?” he snarled, stalking her across the courtyard with steady steps. “But the only time the boy might have been of use to me, you sent him away.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.” Katina backed away.

  “I found him a paid position! I found him employment in the retinue of a man as wealthy as a king, a man with a son the same age as Lysander. I found him a future.” Cetos dropped his voice. “Now I must go and beg forgiveness of this man of influence, and admit to him that I am not in command of my own household.”

  Katina couldn’t stop herself. “You are not in command of my son...”

  “You dare to defy me, when I have done so much for you?” Cetos roared, then back-handed Katina across the face. His heavy blow sent her reeling against the wall.

  She hit her head. Her hand rose to her cheek and she tasted blood.

  He had struck her.

  She eyed his angry expression and knew he would kill her, without remorse. She didn’t know what had happened to Cetos or why he had changed, but she wouldn’t cower before him.

  “I thought a wise man never left a visible mark,” she whispered.

  “Oh, I will leave you black and blue,” Cetos snarled. “I will beat you until you learn your place.” He spat at her. “And then I will toss what’s left of you out into the dirt.” Cetos seized Katina, tugging her back into the middle of the courtyard as she struggled. He flung her to the ground, wound one hand into her hair to hold her captive, then raised the other hand.

  But instead of him striking a blow, Katina saw a flash of brilliant light and heat. She heard Cetos swear in astonishment. A massive dragon leapt into the courtyard, teeth bared and talons outstretched.

  For a heartbeat, she and Cetos stared at the creature in astonishment. Cetos’ grip in her hair loosened at his surprise, and Katina pulled herself away from him.

  The dragon’s scales were the hue of ebony and gleamed as if polished individually by a hundred slaves. The scales on its chest looked to be silver but with proximity, Katina saw they were the color of smoky amethysts. Its teeth were enormous and sharp, and its wings stretched nearly the entire width of the courtyard. It appeared as if conjured out of nowhere, but attacked Cetos with savage force.

  The dragon roared and breathed a torrent of fire at Cetos, then struck him down with a fierce blow from its front claw. Cetos fell to his knees and cowered, folding his arms over his head. Katina scurried toward the wall, uncertain of the creature’s intent.

  She cowered against the wall and watched. The dragon turned its gaze upon her, its expression both hungry and knowing. She caught her breath, wondering if there was any escape from this beast.

  She was fiercely glad that Lysander was gone and safe.

  In that instant, Cetos seized a shard of pottery and flung it at the dragon, apparently aiming for the creature’s face. The dragon roared and thrashed its tail, sending Cetos flying into the opposite wall. The dragon’s eyes flashed, then it arched its neck and breathed a stream of fire at Cetos. Katina smelled burning cloth and singed flesh. She heard Cetos scream in agony and turned her face away to avoid seeing his fate.

  She supposed a better person wouldn’t have been glad that Cetos suffered.

  Katina didn’t see the dragon approach until she felt the heat of its presence. She glanced up just as it snatched at her. She struggled when its talons locked around her waist in a fearsome grip. She fought against its merciless hold, knowing it was futile to even try to match its strength, then cried out when it took flight.

  With her securely in its grasp.

  Katina looked down at her home, unable to make sense of what was happening. She’d been captured by a dragon. The dragon was flying through the air. Was it one of the gods, having taken this form? Or was it some strange beast, created by the gods to serve some whim? Where would it take her? And why?

  She was still holding the cloak she had taken from Cetos’ shoulders. She stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. Then she glanced down at the village that was dropping away beneath her feet.

  The courtyard of her home was filled with broken pottery and flames. She saw the slaves run to Cetos and pour a jug of water over him, then she couldn’t see him anymore. She saw the neighbors come from their homes to investigate the noise. Several looked up, and their jaws fell slack in surprise.

  Then the dragon beat its wings hard, carrying her away from all she had known. Katina looked up at the darkening sky, out over the hills, then back down at the village below.

  She was astonished to realize she was glad. She dropped Cetos’ cloak and let it flutter toward the earth, a part of her past and not her future. The sight of it falling pleased her so much that she removed Cetos’ gold ring and threw it after the cloak.

  For the first time in years, Katina felt free.

  She owed a debt to a dragon for that. She couldn’t help but look up at the impressive creature and wonder what price it would demand as his due.

  * * *

  Alexander could have gnashed his teeth and screamed in frustration.

  Because he’d not only possessed Cetos’ wife, but he’d attacked the man in his own home. He’d burned Cetos with dragonfire and left him writhing on the ground.

  Homes should be sanctuaries and not be filled with violence. There was no doubt that Cetos shouldn’t have struck Katina, but still Alexander had been wrong to take vengeance for that in the man’s own home.

  What price would he be compelled to pay for his transgression? Alexander feared it might be more years of service. He could lose all the promise brought by the darkfire, because of this impulsive choice. All the same, he couldn’t have done anything differently. He couldn’t have stood back and watched Katina be beaten. He didn’t even regret that Cetos might die of his injuries.

  But Alexander did regret that he would have to pay for his crime, for he feared it would cost him all that he had been poised to regain.

  How could he leave Katina again?

  How could he ever win her love and trust, if he couldn’t pledge to stay with her?

  Why had he been sent back to this time, if not to be united with his mate?

  * * *

  Cetos could smell roasted meat with sickening clarity and only gradually realized that he was the meat. His body was consumed by pain, scorching hot pain that drove all thought from his mind. It was dark and he did not know how much time had passed. There was only pain. The slaves had drenched him in water, and now knelt beside him, but he couldn’t answer their questions.

  “Step aside,” commanded a man, and Cetos nearly fainted at the accented voice.

  The rich foreign merchant.

  The one he had to disappoint.

  Of course, the merchant had arrived as arranged, in order to collect the boy. Even though he couldn’t keep the bargain, Cetos didn’t want to return those gold coins.

  He also didn’t want to tell the merchant the truth.

  There was something terrifying about this foreigner, something Cetos had found easy to dismiss when the man had offered him so many coins. Now, he recalled the strange cold blue of the man’s eyes and the yellow gold of his very short hair. Such coloring was seldom seen in these parts, so seldom that it seemed unreal. The merchant had spoken in an odd way too, impatient and quick, and his choice of words had made him even harder to understand.

  And there’d been something else. Something Cetos didn’t want to remember.

  He kept his eyes closed and pretended to be oblivious to all around him. He heard the slaves move away and felt the attention of the merchant bent upon him. Yes, that was part of it. The stillness. The focus. The intensity—as if the stranger could read Cetos’ very thoughts. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right. Men couldn’t be so still as this. Cetos could have sworn that the merchant knew he had a son before the question was even asked.

  He wondered again if the merchant was a deity in disguise, a god come to
walk amongst men for some purpose of his own.

  To collect young boys, perhaps.

  Why had he wanted to buy Lysander? It was too late to ask.

  Cetos’ heart pounded as that man walked around him, the soles of his sandals very close, then bent over Cetos.

  Cetos heard him sniff.

  The sound so startled Cetos that he shuddered involuntarily. His eyelids flickered, too, revealing that he was conscious. He had time to hope that the merchant hadn’t noticed, then the visitor chuckled.

  It was as terrifying a sound as Cetos recalled. It made him think the merchant enjoyed injuring others and took pleasure in their pain.

  “Where is the boy?” the stranger demanded in his strangely accented speech. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our bargain?”

  There was something about the merchant’s voice that made Cetos want to respond, something that compelled him to try. It was an enchanting voice, so melodious and musical. He looked up and saw once more the flames dancing in the other man’s blue eyes.

  He’d seen those flames before when he’d talked to this very same merchant, although he hadn’t wanted to remember them. They were unnatural and wrong, but as soon as Cetos looked at them, he couldn’t even blink, much less look away.

  “The boy,” reminded the merchant, his voice low and insistent.

  “Gone,” Cetos managed to whisper.

  “Gone?”

  Cetos heard the displeasure in the merchant’s voice, but the pain of his burns was overwhelming him. The merchant glanced away. Freed from his commanding gaze, Cetos felt his own eyes close.

  Then something sharp locked around his neck, like a claw.

  He gasped and his eyes flew open. A dragon held him by the throat, those same strange flames dancing in the pupils of its eyes. It wasn’t the same dragon as had burned him. This one was enormous and brilliant yellow, the hue of topaz trimmed with gold.

  A second dragon. If anything, it was more terrifying than the first one. It seemed cold and merciless, while the other had been passionate.

  Where was the merchant? He couldn’t look for him, not when the flames in those eyes danced so brightly that they fascinated him.