“So your hatred for Humanity made her jealous,” Light said.
Nilda glanced up from her work. “Clearly, there’s more to it.” Her knowing eyes fell on Dracyrus, who only frowned at her insistence. “Go on, you mighty Dracon, tell us the rest of the tale.”
Mighty Dracon? Why was Nilda sucking up to Dracyrus? Unless she fancied his appearance, which Light would never understand. He was tall, but he was like an animal. With his scales and his horns, he wasn’t like the other races. His features were more angular, sharper and more pronounced. Their kind was beefier, bulkier. At least, Light would assume they were, as like most people, he’d never seen a Dracon in person before laying eyes on Dracyrus on the top of that burial site.
“The first Human found his way to the lands of Furen,” Dracyrus spoke, closing his eyes. “He immediately took to my sister, the High Queen. She had mates already, and the Human forced her to get rid of them. He wanted her all to himself, and once he had her, he tossed her aside like worthless refuse. I waged the first war for her.” His chest let out a rumble. “I do not wish to talk of the past.”
“And we don’t blame you,” Nilda spoke, offering him what was on her lap. A handmade scabbard for his sword, something he could tie to his hip so he would not have to carry the blade in his hand as he walked. “Here. For your travels.”
Jag got miffed. “What’d you make me?”
“I didn’t make you anything, because you don’t deserve anything. This man has been through a lot, and I can’t help but feel sorry for him.”
“Sorry? For him?” Jag was confused, and rightfully so. “He’s the Dracon who exterminated entire kingdoms. He’s the reason so many Fae and Elven kind are dead, not to mention the Orcs and the Dwarves. All of our history revolves around him and the Harbinger—”
Nilda nodded. “Yes, but there are two sides to everything, is there not? It seems your true enemy is the Fae who created the curse in the first place, not each other. For her magic to be so eternal, I would not doubt that she’s still alive, somewhere. Somehow. If her magic still exists, she must too.”
Prickling in his seat, Dracyrus glanced from the scabbard to the old woman. “If Yulena is still alive, I will find her and gut her.” The vehemence, the intensity behind his words made Light flinch in spite of himself.
Nilda simply patted him on the shoulder, making the Dracon’s scowl grow. “Good boy. Now, I believe you have a Harbinger to save. How will get to her? What if the two Fae you say took her are related to the one who cursed you both?”
“I’ll kill them, too,” Dracyrus stated. Clearly his answer to everything was revenge and death.
“And this brother of yours,” Nilda paused, glancing to Light. “I do not know if I agree with everything Sellyn said—you know I’m good at hearing, so don’t give me that look—but I do know that Ulen are conniving. Cam might have your best interest in heart, but he might not make the same decisions you would. I hope you find him, along with that other Human.” To Dracyrus, she asked, “You’re sure you didn’t see either of them when Faith was taken?”
Dracyrus frowned. “No. Like I said, we were alone, save for those two Fae. A portaler and an illusionist, and I swear on all that I have those two will pay for taking her from me.” His body let out something between a hiss and a growl, and for a moment, all anyone could do was stare.
Fantastic. Because the next thing Light wanted was to deal with magic. Magic was his absolute favorite.
He could not have thought that thought more sarcastically, even if he tried to.
Chapter Five
The more time Faith spent with Foresh and Swift, the more she found herself actually enjoying their company. She wasn’t sure if it was strange or not, but she probably would’ve voted on the former, because from what it sounded like, these two were her kidnappers. Her weird, confident, overly flirty kidnappers. They were bringing her to the Lionheart, or Hart, as they often called him, whoever the hell he was. She had no idea who the Lionheart was, who the hell would want everyone else to call himself such a pompous, grandiose name. When they spoke of him though, it sounded as if she should know him.
She didn’t.
She didn’t know anything, but that was beside the point.
The deeper inside their kingdom they went, the pinker the sky became, the same with the grass. The leaves on the trees were a watercolor of purples and blues and pinks, their bark shimmery and shiny. Nothing here looked normal; she knew grass was supposed to be green, along with the leaves, and the sky was supposed to be blue.
Faith also knew the nighttime sky was supposed to have stars. The moon. Something. Not just eternal blackness, a void of empty space. It made the nights long and cold, and though she couldn’t remember, she had the inkling she used to sleep beside someone. She had to—how else was she supposed to survive these strange black nights? She felt lonely, which was stupid. If she would’ve asked, she was certain both Fae would’ve cuddled her—probably done more with her—but anytime she thought about it, it didn’t feel right.
Almost as if her heart was telling her to wait.
Faith leaned on a tree, sitting on the ground, the cloak pulled tightly around her. They hadn’t made it to a Fae village yet, so she still wore the illusioned clothes Swift had created a few days ago. At this rate, she was going to get used to walking around and doing everything stark naked, even if she didn’t look it. It confused the hell out of her mind when she had to go to the bathroom.
Another thing she missed from her old life. Whatever she was doing before, she knew: indoor plumbing was the bomb. It beat pissing outdoors any day, and that said nothing about how it felt to do a number two when two Fae men were nearby.
Awkward.
Talk about awkward, though. Foresh and Swift had left the campsite to do certain physical things with each other; they’d long trusted Faith not to run away, mostly because there was nowhere for her to go. She was a stranger, even to herself, in a strange land whose grass was freaking pink. Yeah, she wasn’t going anywhere.
Faith fiddled with her hands for a bit, turning her wrist to view the dagger tattoo on it. She traced a finger along it, traveling up the hilt of the dagger, to the point, which was nearest her wrist. Her skin tingled, and something warm appeared in her hand. She would’ve jerked back, jumped back if she was standing, but she sat against a tree, so all she could do was drop it.
A dagger.
The dagger fell onto the grass, and Faith could stare at it for only a few seconds before it faded away, out of existence. What the… She couldn’t even think straight. Did she have magic too? How else could she explain the sudden existence and quick disappearance of the dagger?
She tried the same motion, and the dagger appeared in her hand again. Faith traced a finger along the metal. It felt real. It wasn’t an illusion like Swift’s clothing on her. The weapon in her hand was a real metal dagger, that had just popped into existence when she touched her tattoo. Did the other one on her other wrist do the same? She wondered, trying it out.
It did.
Faith sat there for a while, amazed at what her body could do. It seemed she was able to conjure them easily, though she could only call forth two at once, one from each wrist. They never lasted long out of her hand, either. Maybe because she didn’t have her memories, so she didn’t know how to handle them.
But still—it was freaking awesome. She had powers. Weapons. Did the two Fae know? Maybe she could run away…
Just as she thought it, a figure appeared in a haze on the other side of the campfire. A tall, domineering figure that made her lose her focus on her wrists and her magical tattoos. Faith was slow to get to her feet, something taking hold of her stomach and refusing to let go. She dropped her daggers, clutching the hard bark of the tree behind her as she watched the man walk through the fire, as if he wasn’t truly here.
He wasn’t. She would have heard him if he was.
The man wasn’t even a man. He was…something else. Something foreign. S
even feet tall, a girth so wide and powerful Faith couldn’t help but be glad he wasn’t here in the flesh. Horns, curled and pointed toward the sky. A scaled body, the scales lining his face and his arms, his hands ending in clawed points.
This was no man. This was a monster. A beast.
And Faith was scared. Scared and…angry. She couldn’t help but feel a kind of animosity toward him, deep within her gut, almost as if she was born to hate him. But, even with the hate and the anger, she was mostly frightened. A beast like this—how could she ever defend herself? How could she fight him?
Fight.
She wanted to fight him, she realized in horror. Surely doing so would be a death sentence.
“Faith,” he spoke, and his voice took hold of her, practically choking the air out of her throat. Low, rough and scratchy, deep in all of the ways that made her legs shake. Or maybe she shook for another reason.
This man, this Dracon, she suddenly realized, knew her. Maybe…maybe it wasn’t hatred she felt, but something else.
His eyes were a startling contrast to his pearlescent white scales, a dark black, so pure in their color she couldn’t even see the pupils. His hair was long and white, traveling down his back, but it didn’t look bad. In fact, the longer she looked at him, the more confused her inner self became. She knew this man, and it was clear he knew her, but to what extent, she couldn’t say. She wasn’t certain she wanted to know.
“Faith,” he said her name again, taking a step toward her. “Where are you?” He lifted an arm, as if he was going to touch her—which was crazy. He wasn’t really here. This was some kind of dream. Some kind of illusion. Was this Swift playing a joke on her?
No. No, Faith knew this man. She’d seen him before. She simply couldn’t recall where, or why her heartbeat sped up when he reached for her. Why she felt like both sinking into the tree behind her and rushing to him. Her body couldn’t make up its mind.
“Don’t touch me,” Faith sputtered, voice trembling. She watched as his extended arm fell to his side. He’d been only a few inches from her face. That was close. Too close. He stood too close. All of this…it was too much.
The man studied her, and she felt too small before him. Like a child. Like she was something he’d never seen before. Something strange. Which was ridiculous, because if anything, he was the strange one. He was the seven-foot-tall Dracon who instilled fear, rage, and something else inside of her.
Faith felt her lower gut warm, and she gripped the inside of the cloak, holding it together. She should fight him, scream for the others. Do something besides stand there and act useless. But useless was exactly how she felt, staring up into his black eyes. She was lost in their absence of color, utterly lost in every way.
God, she didn’t have her memories, and she was still confused.
And then it came to her. As if she’d always known, deep down, who the Dracon was. Faith didn’t know why she knew, but she did. She knew it without any traces of uncertainty. Her lips parted, and she whispered, “The Dread King.” Almost instinctual, like she knew him better than she knew herself.
Even though the last thing she wanted was for him to move closer, he did. He moved so close his wide body blocked out the campfire entirely, his tall frame towering over her. She could stare only at his chest. And, what was even odder, she felt his heat.
Impossible. If he wasn’t really here, how could she feel him? Was all of this in her imagination? Was this her subconsciousness trying to break through and force her to remember?
“I believe we’re past that point now,” he said, his voice almost like a growl.
Faith closed her eyes, hating that she liked the sound. What was wrong with her? She didn’t know much, but she knew she shouldn’t be growing warm between her legs all because the Dracon, the Dread King, growled.
“You…” The Dread King paused, tilting his head, and she was slow to open her eyes, meeting his curious, scowling expression. “You do not remember.”
Remember…remember what? Faith couldn’t recall shit, but the way he spoke it, almost as if there was something between them she should know…the rest of her body knew, but she didn’t. Her mind didn’t. She—
“We’re coming for you,” he whispered, moving a clawed hand to her face, trailing it down her cheek with an intensity she couldn’t match.
And, dear God, she felt it. She felt him. The gentle caress of his claws, the heat from his palm on her skin. She felt him, and she liked it, even though she knew she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t feel a trembling in her body; her breath shouldn’t hitch in the back of her throat. Her body shouldn’t react to him like this—but that’s precisely what it was doing, and she couldn’t stop it.
We. He said we, meaning there were others. Others like him? Or others searching for her? Faith couldn’t remember, didn’t know, and she didn’t trust her voice to come out normal. Not while in this position. Not while feeling so compromised, heart, body, and soul.
“And when I reach you,” he whispered, the hand on her face falling to her neck, above the fur on the cape, “I will make you remember.” The words were spoken as a promise.
Faith closed her eyes again. Whatever hatred, whatever fear she felt at his first appearance was long gone. She didn’t want him to go. She liked being near him, feeling so small against him. She wanted him to stay, to feel his scaled hand everywhere. But, alas, it was not meant to be, because when she opened her eyes again, she was alone, clinging to the tree behind her.
She let out an explosive breath just as Foresh and Swift returned, looking a bit worse for wear. Swift gave her a quizzical look as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth down his stray locks. “Were you just talking to yourself?”
“No,” Faith managed to say, sounding weak. She felt weak too, so she sunk back to her knees, slowly sitting as she had been before the Dracon showed himself.
“Huh,” Swift went on, glancing at Foresh, who knelt by the fire, poking it with a stick. “I could’ve sworn I heard you say the Dread King.”
She shook her head. How could she explain what just happened? What she saw? She wasn’t sure it was real. Maybe she was insane. Maybe the air in this place was making her see things. With pink grass, nothing was out of the picture.
No—he’d been real. His touch had been real. She’d felt it deep within her, a burning fire that still lingered. He’d been real, here, and now he was gone. Faith knew she was supposed to hate him, but somehow she didn’t. Somehow, a part of her liked him more than she should.
She didn’t know why and she didn’t know how, but she knew she was going against everything by liking that particular Dracon.
Things were freaking complicated, and she didn’t have her memory. How crazy complicated would things become once she got it back? Faith wasn’t sure she could handle it, considering she could barely contain herself when she stood near him. How bad would it be when she had her memories?
Were they…she came to a startling thought…were they together, before all of this?
Chapter Six
When Faith’s image of her before him faded, Dracyrus let out a long breath. Difficult would not even begin to describe how things had been the last few days. Traveling with those two was impossibly aggravating, and oftentimes he found himself daydreaming about killing them. But he wouldn’t, because they were hers. They were Faith’s.
He’d tried the entire time to set up a connection, their link, and it had taken him this long to do it. It was not something he’d ever purposefully attempted before—before Faith, before her appearance as the Harbinger, Dracyrus never had such a link with any other before. It was something new, and whether it was because she was the first female Harbinger or because the curse was wearing off, he had no idea. He didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was getting Faith back.
And, now that he’d seen her, making her remember everything.
Oh, yes. Making Faith remember would be his top priority. Perhaps he’d visit her daily, now that
he knew how to do it. Days prior to this, Dracyrus had been too caught up in the magical, incorporeal aspect of their link. He should have simply given in to his instincts. Everything about the Harbinger was instinctual; their connection today was no different.
He wanted her, and he would get her.
It did not escape him how ironic it was. Dracyrus was never one for irony, it was a fool’s amusement, but he knew this might all be some game to Yulena. If what that old Malus said was true, the Fae bitch was still alive somewhere, causing mayhem wherever she went. But she was dying, as was evident from the fact that the curse between the Harbinger and the Dread King was broken.
And it had to be broken, for why else would Dracyrus feel something so strong for a Human female? Her kind were so different from his, and she was…she was young. Inexperienced. Even though she had mates, she had no idea how rough Dracon were. It was quite possible she wouldn’t want it. Wouldn’t want him.
Dracyrus would not let himself think that. Whatever was going on inside her head, she clearly didn’t remember. If her memories had been altered, she should have hated him on sight. Maybe she did, but even so, she hadn’t done much to try to escape him just now. Hadn’t put up nearly the fight he knew she was capable of. Even though she stared up at him with bright green eyes that didn’t recognize him, her body responded to his.
By the fires of Furen, he’d touched her. He’d felt her. How was it possible? What kind of magical link did they have? It would have been good to have and know during the previous wars with the Harbinger…
He would not let himself linger on the past. For once in his life, he was going to focus on the future, on what could be done, what he had to do. Find Faith. Make her remember. Mark her as his, so long as she was willing. Find whatever remnant of Yulena remained and destroy it completely. Then…then Dracyrus did not know what would come next.
The Lionheart (The Harbinger Book 4) Page 4
