Instead of knocking some sense into his head by banging it on the nearest wall, he followed Aryana around the corner of the house, which gave him a glimpse of the commotion. A group of Draconi and Watchers surrounded several crying females. It looked like the Watchers belonged to the Council. He recognized a few from before his captivity, along with Enar who he heard now served on the Council. Tension filled his muscles, stiffening them, as he froze in place.
The one person he wanted to avoid, needed to avoid, stood on the opposite side of the distraught group, staring not at the wailing females, but straight at Fafnir.
That look burned through him, immobilizing his limbs, momentarily prohibiting him from subtly using illusion to change his appearance. Nothing he did would keep Alviss from recognizing him. He knew the risk of following Aryana, knew it like he knew the sun would rise in the morning, and yet he could no more stop trailing behind her than he could still the pounding of his heart.
Time for him to face reality, to admit his true identity and stop hiding behind a false name. He gulped.
“Moira?” Aryana stepped forward, her gait stiff and jerky. His thoughts crashed into the present as he focused on the female she addressed.
One of the crying females looked up, her eyes red and puffy, swollen like a bruise. “Ari?” The female shoved past those gathered around her and stumbled toward Aryana. “They took her! They took her!”
Aryana caught the female by the elbows as Balthor and Thoren hurried toward her. “Took who, sister?”
“They took my baby! They took Jaythena!”
Chapter Six
Her sister’s words crashed through Aryana like a waterfall of ice, stealing her breath. Two tries later she managed to choke out, “What?” Surely she heard wrong. Jaythena was her youngest niece, seventeen years old, a pretty girl still in the unstable phase of having her magic unlocked, the phase where her powers fluctuated out of control.
It had only been two weeks since Jaythena came to the Temple for her unlocking ritual. Two weeks since Aryana spent the day repairing the destruction left after the ceremony. Two weeks.
And now she was gone?
Despite the stability issues of her newly released magic, Jaythena should still possess the ability to ward off a kidnapping attack. She should be able to channel some of the energy into harming her attacker.
Unless she possessed little to no magic.
Moira fell against her shoulder and Aryana wrapped her arms around her sobbing sister.
“Jaythena was in Goleb?” Her brain turned over as if walking through sludge, unable to accept the evidence as truth.
“She was visiting a friend,” Balthor said, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes blinking a rapid staccato as if to ward off tears.
“How? How was she taken? Her powers had been unlocked.”
Thoren stepped closer, vibes of anger radiating off him like bursts of lightning. He glanced at his mother, then his father before focusing on Aryana. Her magic seems to follow the same path as Mother’s.
Aryana tried to swallow her caught breath and got all of nowhere. Moira’s magic, if it could truly be called magic, lay in her fertility, not in demonstrable powers. Unlike other Draconi, Moira could not snap her fingers and dress herself. If after their unlocking ceremony, her daughters blew up a table, she was unable to wave her hand and repair it. To the casual observer, Moira possessed no magic.
However, Draconi females had trouble getting pregnant. Even among mated couples, it could take centuries to have a child. Some families conceived two children and considered themselves blessed beyond measure. More than two was a rarity. So Moira’s family of six living children and six unhatched eggs—eggs with the potential to hatch into male young—placed her in a category all by herself. Unheard of. A rare form of magic thought to be possessed by only one.
Aryana swallowed the stab of jealousy that always erupted when she thought of Moira’s fertility and allowed her mind to trip down a jagged path to a conclusion she feared.
Jaythena is pregnant?
It’s too early to tell, but her power fluctuations stopped. Mother said the same happened to her after her unlocking ceremony.
And Moira had lost the child even as she gained notoriety for being the only Draconi female to get pregnant from the unlocking ritual. Aryana swallowed.
“I’m going to kill them.” Judging by Balthor’s raised eyebrow, she spoke the words aloud. Just as well. Spoken words held strength.
I’ll help. Fafnir’s words might not be spoken aloud, but they held strength nonetheless. As they had when she prepared to enter the Council chamber. As they would forever.
Forever? Stop behaving like a girl with her first crush and focus on what needs done.
“You won’t be alone.” Steam snaked from Thoren’s ears, his brows a black slash across his forehead as his fists curled and uncurled.
Enar stepped beside him and Aryana waited for a streak of unwanted longing mixed with remorse to jolt through her heart, like it did every time she saw the tall Watcher.
Nothing. Maybe enough time passed for her to stop missing their chats in bed after a night of passion.
Praise the Goddess. Dealing with unwanted feelings resulting from a dead-end relationship instead of focusing on finding her niece ranked lower on her to-do list than servicing males.
A puff of warm air struck her back and she turned her head to the source. Fafnir stood behind her, his lip on full snarl mode, his eyes glaring daggers at Enar.
Surely he didn’t read her mind about her former lover. Thoren knowing was bad enough. Only through a mutual understanding between the two did she manage to avoid him telling others about her illicit relationship. Sure, she could slip into his mind and cause him to forget the entire conversation, but invading her own nephew in that way just didn’t seem right. Erasing another’s memories was tricky business. Potentially harmful business if she extracted the wrong memory. Something only to be used in extreme emergencies, like observing her dragon form crashing to the earth.
Now reading others’ minds was a whole different matter. Most people didn’t realize she slipped inside and took a look around. Most couldn’t stop her even if they did realize her ability.
Most people did not include Fafnir. For whatever reason, she couldn’t peer inside his thoughts, which left her reading his body language.
It didn’t take a genius to deduce he had issues with Enar. The Watcher in question stepped around the grieving family, and she slanted her stance to see him bump a fist against Fafnir’s flank.
“Fafnir, my dragon, how are you?”
Aryana bit her lip to ward off the smile threatening her mouth. Clearly Enar wasn’t bothered by Fafnir’s off-putting behavior.
Good thing. She needed all the help she could get to find Jaythena. First things first. Head in the moment, Ari.
“How did it happen?” Steam billowed out her ears as she pictured Jaythena in her memory. Thought about what the poor female must be going through.
Decided a simple death wasn’t enough for the one who took her. A painful, long death sounded like a winning plan.
Moira took a step back, dashing a cloth under her eyes. “She came to visit a...a...friend.” She darted a quick glance to her mate before squeezing shut her lids. “I cursed my daughter.” The words, spoken in a whisper, floated to Aryana’s ears, but they struck with the power of a hammer.
“Nonsense, Moira. It’s not a curse. It’s just...different. That doesn’t make it bad.” Envious, yes, bad, not so much.
“But if it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have come here. She would be h...h...home.” And there went the tears.
Before Aryana could wrap her arms around her sister, Balthor grabbed his mate into a hug, whispering something in her ear. Moira relaxed against him, tears still running down her face, but her sobs seemed to subside.
Aryana raised a brow.
Calming spell, Balthor mouthed.
“All right. So she came here
to meet her friend. The town was attacked. What happened then?”
“A group of Watchers dressed in black, as if that would help disguise them, appeared from nowhere and began attacking the villagers. Unlike Tyne, these villagers turned into dragons and cornered most of them, but some managed to grab Jaythena before her friend could stop them. He said he was knocked unconscious and when he awoke, she was gone.” Thoren’s jaw clenched, his hands knotting into fists.
“How did Watchers appear from nowhere? And in coordinated attacks?”
Balthor’s eyes narrowed. “We suspect a Draconi helped them. We’d also like to know what you and a dragon were doing here when the village was first attacked.”
Aryana swallowed. At least no one besides Fafnir saw her turn into a dragon. She hoped. “A mother and her child appeared in the Courtyard saying Goleb was under attack. I immediately transported here and saw a group of Watchers attacking. Before I could do anything, Fafnir”—she gestured to the looming dragon—“appeared, knocked a group of attackers unconscious, and returned me to the Temple. I came as soon as Annaliese released me.”
“You were injured?”
“It was nothing.”
“So, this is the mysterious Fafnir.” Alviss shuffled his way across the packed dirt to stand in front of her, peering at Fafnir with a gaze sharpened by years of observation.
Muscles drew taut despite his squint aimed at Fafnir, and she forced her limbs to relax. From the corner of her eye, she saw Fafnir bristle as she stiffened, a sense of displeasure roiling in the movement. Was it possible he acted protectively toward her?
Despite the moment’s situation, a wave of happiness crashed through her, and she swallowed a smile. No male ever cared about her like that. No one.
A subtle magic pulsed from Fafnir’s direction, subtle enough that only her heightened senses noticed and she wondered if Alviss knew Fafnir cloaked himself in a disguise. A disguise? Why would he do that? Sure, Alviss intimidated everyone he met and she’d rather not deal with the elderly male, but disguise herself to avoid him?
Why?
Yet another mystery about Fafnir she needed to unlock. After she found Jaythena and killed the kidnappers.
Eyes narrowed, she glared at Alviss. “Yes, it is, but what’s more important is what happened to my niece and how and why a group of Watchers attacked two Draconi villages. What are you doing about that?”
Was that a hint of red crossing the old male’s cheeks? Maybe he overexerted himself shuffling to where they stood. “We are interviewing the captured Watchers and attempting to extract information.”
“Any success?”
“These things take time.”
Those things would go a lot faster if the Council let her talk to the attackers. “May I talk with them? We in the priestesshood have secret ways of getting tongues to loosen.”
“You would allow us to watch?”
As it was impossible for Alviss to see her tunnel into the Watchers’ minds, root around, and extract information, why not? “Of course. We should be willing to work together for the good of our people, should we not?”
Alviss snorted, his cane thumping against the packed dirt as he began his slow, shuffling walk to the other side of the square, forcing her to follow. Fafnir’s breath raked hot on her back, his vague magical illusion brushing against her skin. No time to think on his magic-enhanced appearance, she needed to focus on the upcoming interrogation.
In order for Alviss and his Council not to realize she and other higher-ranking priestesses slipped into and out of minds at will, she needed to persuade the captured Watchers to verbalize their thoughts. A simple spell, one she’d used since the unlocking of her powers.
No problem.
Alviss led them across the square, past the houses lining the open area, and out into the fields beyond the village. A group of Draconi and Watchers, Council members and those who worked for them, stood in a circle surrounding those she assumed to be the previous night’s attackers. Alviss waved at the closest males, a gesture for them to step aside and let the two of them through. They stepped back into place behind her, leaving her and Alviss to face the intruders.
Five males sat on the tilled dirt, their black cloaks thrown to the side in a heap of cloth, their blond hair streaked with blood. Aryana swallowed. Her entire life she believed the Draconi to be calm, peaceful, not prone to violence. Violence happened rarely and was punished quickly when it occurred.
The males’ appearance dashed her beliefs.
Only her anger sustained her, kept her feet moving forward. They knew who took Jaythena. They helped. And they had no qualms about killing Draconi.
Why should she be repulsed by their black eyes, their bleeding noses and lips, the careful way they drew in a breath? In one act, make that two acts, they turned from allies to enemies. She should not feel compassion for their injuries.
She could not stop her emotions any more than she could stop her feet from continuing their slow Alviss-like shuffle to the closest Watcher. The scent of blood stained the air and she fought to swallow the bile rising into her throat. A couple of swallows later, she knelt by the male.
“Tell me where they took the female.”
He turned to her, his features too swollen to show surprise, but she felt it radiate from him nonetheless. He spat on the ground, a bloody stream of saliva hanging from his torn lip. “No.”
She heard growling from the circle and held up her hand. “Are you sure?”
“Not talking.”
It took no effort to slip in to his mind, to rummage through his thoughts. Unlike a Draconi mind, she had no barrier to barge through, no wall surrounding his innermost thoughts. Even Enar put up a resistance, poor though it was, but this Watcher knew not how to protect his mind from assaults.
Stealing toys from a hatchling.
Now to get him to talk. Alviss did not need to know what she saw inside the male’s mind, he needed to hear the Watcher talk. She sent a spell of persuasion, a wave of energy convincing the Watcher to confess his secrets aloud. He stared at her, his eyes blue slits in his now-slack face.
“Why don’t you tell me who told you to attack?”
“The hooded Draconi.” His speech slurred through swollen lips.
She ignored the gasps from his comrades in crime and continued her questions.
“Do you know his name?”
“No.”
“Do you know where he took the girl?”
“That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“What was?”
“Attacking. Overthrowing the Draconi. Letting all know we are the strong ones. Why else would we be their guardians if they weren’t useless?”
A shudder passed through her as she pulled out of his mind. He didn’t know where they took Jaythena. He knew other things, things with the ability to terrorize her dreams and haunt her waking moments, but the twisted images couldn’t stop her from questioning another Watcher. Surely out of all the captives, one would know where her niece had been taken.
She moved to the next Watcher, Alviss shuffling along to stand next to her. For once, his presence didn’t bother her.
“Tell me what you know about the girl.” This time she didn’t bother with niceties, such as giving him a chance to answer. She slipped into his mind, sending a wave of persuasion to ride along her question.
“What girl?”
He didn’t know. She moved to the next one, and the one after him. Maybe none of them knew. Her hands shook as she stopped in front of the last Watcher.
“What do you know of the girl?”
“He wanted her for his.”
“Who?”
“The hooded Draconi.”
“Why?”
“Said she belonged to the bitch priestess and he was going to take her. It wasn’t planned. He saw her and decided right then to have her. So we got her for him.”
“Where did he take her?”
“To our hideout.”
“Can you ta
ke us there?” After seeing it in his mind, she could take herself there, but that wouldn’t help Alviss and crew arrive.
“Yes.”
“That’s good. You’ve been very helpful. This male will take you to your hideout.”
Alviss gestured a Draconi reconnaissance expert over along with the expert’s Watcher and together the two younger males carried the injured attacker away. Aryana turned her back on the captives and prayed her legs held as she marched out of the circle. As before, anger lent strength to her body, despite her shaking hands and dry throat.
Fasolt took Jaythena. At least she assumed it was Fasolt. Over a month ago, when the hooded Draconi first broke through the Draconian ward line threatening her life, she assumed the Council would take care of the problem. Why should she fear a disgruntled Draconi she’d banished from Draconia?
But instead of coming after her, it appeared Fasolt decided to attack her family. Perhaps he thought to make her hurt with pain equal to what she forced on him. He wanted revenge for his banishment. He wanted her to die.
He had no idea what an infuriated High Priestess was capable of.
He’d learn.
Once they walked through the ring of Council cronies, she whirled on Alviss.
“Why did you not take care of the hooded Draconi, of Fasolt, before now?” If only the Council had done their job, Jaythena would be here with them, instead of captured by that female-hating bastard.
“We couldn’t find him.”
“With all the resources of the Council, you couldn’t find one bloody goat-sucking Draconi?” She sucked in a breath. The High Priestess must not yell at the elderly leader of the Council. The High Priestess must exude serenity at all times.
Her predecessor’s voice echoed in her head as she fought to get her breathing under control. One of Alviss’s bushy white eyebrows played a game of touch-the-hairline as he stared nonplussed at her.
“A goat-sucking Draconi, eh?” Was that a smile attempting a run on his lips?
“I apologize for my language.” But not her outburst. He deserved that. The Council should have caught Fasolt, or whoever the hooded Draconi was, before now.
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