by Meara Platt
Indeed, she had to handle this matter without delay.
Problem was, she couldn’t find Cadeyrn to work out a truce before the bedding ceremony, or whatever he and his council called it, took place. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she sang softly, repeating a children’s verse that suddenly began to swirl inside her head. It seemed appropriate, for Cadeyrn was playing a childish game. It wasn’t very nice of him to disappear now that she needed him. He’d been hiding from her all day.
She was about to give up and return to the vicarage when a thin, reedy voice called out from somewhere above her. “Here I am, Melody. Come to me.”
It didn’t sound like Cadeyrn, but voices didn’t always carry clearly on a quickening wind. She glanced upward, noting the gray thunderclouds sailing briskly overhead.
“Here I am,” she heard again, this time the voice emanating from beside the hot spring.
Melody whirled toward it. A thin, vaporous mist had formed along the grass beside the hot spring and seemed to be slowly crawling toward the bluebell garden where she stood, its movements like a monstrous spider crawling up its web. “Your Majesty?”
Cadeyrn never sent shivers up her spine … well, not these cold, unsettling shivers.
She gazed upward as something fluttered overhead. At first, she thought it was him in his raven form, but the flap of those wings sounded deeper, heavier than the easy flap of a raven’s wings. The bird seemed to be flying toward the chapel belfry where she’d seen Cadeyrn roost before. Deciding to go there to confront him, she started toward the church.
“Your Majesty,” she called again, feeling a chill as she entered. She marched past the pews, into Vicar Axwell’s office, and up the flight of narrow but sturdy wooden stairs that led to the belfry. She was out of breath by the time she climbed to the top and paused, careful where to step for the wooden slats along the belfry floor were rotting and obviously dangerous. St. Lodore’s enormous copper bell and its massive support beams took up most of the tower’s space, leaving a mere strip of unsafe planking around its perimeter as a walkway.
She let out a sigh of exasperation. “Stop it! Just show yourself to me. We need to talk.”
Just then, a burst of fading sunlight struck the copper bell, casting a brilliant reddish glow about the belfry that lasted only a moment before those dark and threatening rain clouds captured the light again. “Say something? Are you up here?”
Then another brilliant burst of light. More dark clouds quickly swallowed it up. The play of light and dark no longer seemed so innocent, but more of a battle raging in the skies overhead, and the dark appeared to be winning.
Rain began to fall, softly at first, and then more insistently as the wind picked up and gusted through the belfry, whistling sharply through its eaves.
Melody grabbed the bell’s thick rope and secured it in her grasp.
The bell let out a soft clang.
“Your Majesty,” she called out louder, for the rain was no longer falling in a light mist but had intensified and was now pounding against the copper roof. The mix of wind and rain now buffeted the frail slats, and she no longer trusted them to support her slight weight. One wrong step and she’d plummet a great distance to the ground. “I’m going now. I don’t like this game.”
No response, only the persistent sound of raindrops resounding, pock, pock, pock, against the belfry dome. Then, above the wind and rain, she heard the heavy flap of wings again. Something was hovering on the other side of the bell, purposely hiding from her view. “Don’t go, Melody. Come closer. Let me see you.”
The voice, sinister and taunting, was not Cadeyrn’s, nor was the hot breath that began to foul the air around her. Her heart began to pound in quick, unsettled beats. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”
“You are The One. You are Cadeyrn’s beloved, destined to die a fiery death so he may live. I shall help you to escape him.”
She released the rope and ran down the church steps as fast as her legs would carry her, for she was certain this creature, whatever it was, did not mean to help her. She tore out of the chapel and raced toward the vicarage in hope of finding sanctuary, for Cadeyrn had told her demons could not enter her home without being invited in.
She had no intention of inviting that thing in.
Cadeyrn! Where are you? Now would be a good time to appear!
A burst of intense heat shot overhead.
Fire!
Another burst of fire landed in front of her and would have swallowed her up had she not tripped on a jutting stone and fallen right before it. A sapling caught flame in front of her, the scent of wet, burning wood and intense smoke filling her nostrils as she lay on the ground breathing heavily. Damp smoke surrounded her, swirled in her hair, and clung to her wet gown.
She coughed as she scrambled to her feet and dove behind the stone wall that separated the church from the vicarage, hoping her dark green gown and woodsy brown hair would help her hide amid the brush and brambles that covered much of its expanse. The ground was now soaked by the steady downpour. The soil quickly turned to mud and stained her gown as she curled herself into a tight ball and tried her best to blend in among the twigs and leaves.
She held her breath and tried not to move as another blast of fire scorched the bramble patch just to the right of where she was hiding. The flames died out before they could nibble at her boots, doused by the drenching rain descending from the ominous blanket of clouds.
She had never been so glad for rain before.
She burrowed deeper into the patch of brambles, making not a sound even as the thorny branches pricked through her sleeves and scratched her cheeks.
She had once seen people die by fire, a raging, out of control inferno that had swallowed house after house in the usually quiet village of Eastbourne. It was not quiet in that moment, as the fire marched on in a hot roar and innocents screamed to be rescued. Most had been saved, but a few had died. The poorest part of the village had been destroyed, for the houses were shoddily built and packed too closely together. That’s where she had been at the time, accompanying her father while he ministered to the poor. They returned home later that evening desperately sad, mouths and noses covered in soot, wheezing for days afterward … that was a day she would never forget.
That was a day she never wished to repeat.
Melody peered through the mass of wet leaves hoping for a look at this creature intent on killing her. At first, she could see nothing. Then something large and dark swooped close … once … twice.
Blessed saints! A dragon!
She saw a glint of a black underbelly that seemed to be covered in protective scales, like armor on a medieval knight, though this creature did not seem at all chivalrous. She heard the snap of its long tail above her. Crack! Crack! Like the stinging flick of a black whip.
It flew close again.
This time, the creature’s head was bowed while it scanned the ground in search of her. She held back a scream as their eyes suddenly met—hers green and its ice-blue—but it moved on, somehow missing her amid her shroud of brambles. The green of her gown and brown of her hair must have done the trick, allowing her to disappear into her surroundings.
Still, how was it possible? He had been staring straight at her.
The Fae would believe it was the Prophecy at work, but she knew there had to be a logical explanation—perhaps elongated shadows cast by dimming light or the swirl of encroaching mist and low clouds had blurred the dragon’s sight.
The dragon moved away to hover above another section of the stone wall.
Safe for the moment, Melody peered between the branches to study this creature of myth. She recognized its shape as drawn in books—a long, thin body covered in scales, wings seeming to span the massive length of the sky, an elongated face with flaring nostrils.
She continued to study the creature as it lost interest in the brambles and turned its attention to the bluebell garden. It moved quickly, landing atop the bluebel
ls and crushing them with its taloned feet and spiked tail, which whipped across the flowers in a frenzied whirl, no doubt furiously seeking her … or seeking to destroy Cadeyrn’s portal that lay hidden among the flowers.
She had never believed in dragons, but one stood before her now, spreading its skeletal black wings as it prepared to lift off the ground and circle overhead once more. The wings flapped twice, effortlessly lifting its enormous body upward into the blanket of clouds still covering the sky.
Was it gone?
Sensing it wasn’t, she remained frozen in place.
“Come out, human!” the dragon commanded, its voice laced with malicious impatience as it swooped down again, close … too close … so close she had merely to reach out and touch it. “Show yourself to me!”
She cringed.
Its hot, foul breath now surrounded her.
She braced herself, awaiting the inevitable lethal blast of fire from its snout, but it never came. Instead, the dragon moved on, ignoring the little patch of brambles where she lay hidden, as though it hadn’t seen her run in here, or didn’t think a savior queen would be stupid enough to run into its maze of thorns.
Well, she was that stupid and had the scratches to prove it.
Cadeyrn! Where are you?
“Show yourself!” the dragon roared again.
Never.
She refused to believe this thing hunting her was in any way related to Cadeyrn. Dragon Lords and Fae were demons, Cadeyrn had explained soon after their first encounter. No, Cadeyrn could not possibly be related to this creature.
“You cannot hide from me!”
Melody let out a soft gasp as its spiny tail suddenly whipped through the brambles and grazed her arm with enough force to leave a gash where it had ripped her sleeve.
“Curse you! Is this what you wish? To save a Fae king who will never love you?” Now obviously frustrated, the creature let out another great roar and disappeared into the clouds.
Melody dared not leave her hiding spot.
Was it still here? Quietly circling overhead among the clouds?
Darkness fell and rain continued to pelt against her shelter of leaves. Mud and rain soaked through her clothes, a cold, biting rain that chilled her to the bone.
Her arm began to throb where that dragon’s spine had scratched.
Cadeyrn! Help me!
She shivered endlessly, afraid to leave her hiding spot until certain the creature had flown off, for she still sensed it hadn’t gone away.
Suddenly, someone reached into the brambles and grabbed her. “Melody! By the Stone of Draloch! What are you doing in here? I’ve been searching for you everywhere!”
Hearing Cadeyrn’s voice, she lost what little was left of her composure and burst into tears. “Where were you?” She pounded her fists against his chest as he drew her tightly into his embrace. “You didn’t protect me! You said you would!”
“Melody, what happened?”
“I saw it. I saw your dragon! It blew fire over me and tried to kill me!”
Cadeyrn tensed and drew back slightly to view her face. “What color was this dragon?”
“Black.”
“Are you certain? Not green? Or amber?”
“Black,” she insisted. “The color of night. The color of coal. Dark, inky black.”
“Even its underbelly?”
She nodded.
“By the Stone of Draloch,” he repeated in a whisper.
“Who is it? What is it?” Melody let out a sob, one mingled with fear and pain, for the scratch to her arm had gone beyond throbbing and was now beginning to hurt.
“Lord Brihann, High King of the Dragon Lords.” Cadeyrn cursed softly under his breath. “He senses your power and it has scared him enough to come after you himself.”
“He threatened that I would die in a fiery death, then shot flames at me.”
“That was only meant to frighten you. He wasn’t trying to burn you. To do so would … never mind.”
“Would what?”
Cadeyrn frowned. “What else did he say?”
“Isn’t that enough? He scared me and I wasn’t about to listen politely while he burned me to a crisp. I just wanted him to go away.”
“What else did he say?”
She let out another sob. “I don’t know! Let go of me. It hurts! I don’t understand why I can see demons and dragons and Fae. I don’t understand why my mother and the vicar can see you in your raven form but can’t see you in your Fae form. I don’t understand the rules of your world, assuming it even exists. Is this real? Or am I simply going mad?”
She jerked out of his grasp and ran into the vicarage, her legs feeling leaden as she clambered up the stairs to her bedchamber. She shoved open the door and ran straight to her mirror to inspect the scratch and the burning circle of skin around it. Indeed, her arm from shoulder to elbow now felt as though it were on fire.
“What hurts?” Cadeyrn appeared behind her an instant later and, grabbing her by the waist, spun her to face him. His touch was gentle and all too real.
She pointed to her left arm. “He scratched it with his tail. It didn’t hurt much at first, but the pain’s getting worse. Help me unfasten the lacings of my gown.”
“There’s no time,” he said, ripping away the sleeve over her protest. “He’s poisoned you. Your arm is infected.”
She glanced down and almost fainted, for her flesh was covered in a pattern of thin, blue webs that seemed to be weaving their way up her arm and outward in long, spidery tendrils. The pain was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. It was a soul-stealing ache. “It feels like a venomous spider crawling inside me. Fix it, Cadeyrn. Please! Do what you must to heal me.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Do what you must!” She stared at the blue tendrils now undulating up her arm. “I’m begging you! Why won’t you help me?”
“I’m sorry it must happen like this,” he said after a moment, an odd look in his eyes as he drew her into his arms again. She realized that he meant to take her through the portal. “It is better done in my bed.”
“In your bed? What are you talking about?”
“The only way to heal a dragon’s cut is with a stronger force … love. The act of love. All out, nothing held back. Melody, it is the only way to save you.”
“Wait! What are you saying?”
“Are you willing?”
“I must give myself to you or die?”
He nodded. “Are you willing?”
This was her choice? To refuse and die a painful, virgin death or accept and … she didn’t know what might happen then, only that she would no longer be the person she was this morning.
For Cadeyrn, their lovemaking would be a necessary act of healing. For her, she realized with a start, it would be the act of love. Tonight, she would give her heart and body to Cadeyrn. “Yes, I’m willing.”
Chapter Ten
Cadeyrn grabbed Melody and drew her firmly into his arms, his only thought to whirl her through the Fae portal and undress her as fast as possible. He felt the dampness of her gown through his own clothes and felt her shiver despite the burning heat now spreading through her arm.
Lord Brihann had found her!
The Draloch Prophecy was unfolding.
He wasted no time in passing through the portal. “Get out!” he ordered the Fae soldiers guarding his bedchamber. “I must not be disturbed.”
Melody was frightened. He saw it in the tense pucker of her lips and the tears glistening in her eyes, though she was struggling mightily to contain them. “Close your eyes,” he said in a voice of authority, as though she were one of the soldiers under his command. “Trust me, Melody. Whatever happens, know that I’ll do my best not to hurt you.”
Without bothering to wait for her consent, he drew the knife always hidden in his boot and used it to cut away the rest of her wet gown and underclothes, tossing those garments aside before kneeling to remove her stockings and walking shoes.
Melody made not a sound, not even as she stood naked before him, her slender body shivering. He set aside his knife and lifted her into his arms. “Hold onto me. Take some of my body’s warmth.”
“I can’t raise my left arm. It hurts too much.”
He said nothing, merely shifting her more securely in his grasp. Her soft, pink breasts molded to his chest. She looked pale and fragile, for her life force was slipping away.
He crossed the broad expanse of his room in a few strides and set her down as carefully as he could manage in the center of his bed. Melody whimpered and rolled onto her side the moment he released her, for the mere settling of her body against his sheets must have sent bolts of pain shooting up her arm.
He cursed under his breath. The poison was working its way into her system with a furious intensity that boded ill for her survival. “I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he said, knowing these words of assurance were meaningless. He would do whatever was needed to save her and doubted his actions would be gentle.
He unbuckled his sheath, hastily set it and his sword down beside the bed, and sank onto a nearby chair and kicked off his boots.
His gaze never left Melody.
She lay curled and shivering on his bed. Lush strands of her wet hair fell over her slight shoulders and perfect breasts. He studied the dark patch of hair at the junction of her thighs and knew he had only moments to embed himself inside her or Lord Brihann’s soul catchers would claim her forever.
“The pain feels alive within me,” Melody said, her voice weak. “What is it I feel gnawing at my insides?”
“They’re soul catchers. That’s what those creatures burrowing under your flesh are called. They’re tiny, but more dangerous to humans than any demon sent by Lord Brihann from the underworld.”
“If you heal me, will they harm you?”
The question surprised him, but this is what made Melody different from others, what made her special. She thought of him, even amid her own distress. “No, sweetheart.” He used the term of endearment often used by humans in the hope it might soothe her. “They’re harmless to all manner of demon, including the Fae. We’re resistant, often use them for our own purposes, but Fae never use them against humans.”
