Hannah bit her lower lip and swallowed hard. “Absolutely nothing is wrong, Gilda. Thank you. You’re doing a wonderful job.”
At the sound of her chamber door softly closing, Hannah adjusted the angle of the floor-length mirror to see who had just entered. “Esme! Good. I wanted to ask you a few questions before the ceremony.”
With her tail swishing against the thick golden carpeting covering the floor of Hannah’s chambers, Esme padded across the room. “Ye look very presentable, Guardian. Taggart will be well pleased.”
Hannah smiled. Presentable. That was quite the compliment coming from Esme. “Thank you, Esme.”
“You had questions for me?” Esme folded her hands across her shimmering tiled belly and patiently tapped a claw.
Gilda swept her hair up off her neck and piled the mass of curls high upon her head. “Oh no. Can I please just wear it pulled back a little bit and flowing down my back? My ears are big and stick out like car doors. See?” Hannah turned toward Gilda, stuck her fingers behind her ears, and waggled them at the confused-looking Draecna maid.
With a nod of her head, Gilda released Hannah’s curls. “Whatever ye wish, honored Guardian.”
Turning back to Esme, Hannah pulled the strapless bodice of the dress a bit higher up around her breasts and continued, “Please explain to me just exactly what this Fire of Immortality entails.”
Folding her claws back across her belly, Esme peered closer at Hannah’s ears as she replied. “I enclose your body with the Fire of Immortality and increase the years of your life. What are car doors? Is this some sort of human imagery reference?”
Hannah whirled from her image in the mirror. “What do you mean you breathe fire around my body? I saw you crispy-critter all those Waerins in Tiersa Deun. What if you accidentally pick the wrong heat setting?”
Esme’s eyes widened as though Hannah had slapped her. “I would never make such a simple mistake! Just because I’m newly hatched, do not take me for an inexperienced fool.”
Gilda dropped the brush she held between her claws and stood trembling with her head bowed. “Forgive me,” she whispered. “But take the greatest care. I made just such a simple mistake many eons ago. That is why I no longer possess the magic. I had the powers stripped from me. But the goddess saw it was truly a mistake and not malice as some accused. That is why she suffered to allow me to live under her protection here in her crystal caverns.”
“And you wondered why I was nervous?” Hannah shot Esme an accusing glare as she retrieved the brush from the floor.
“I will not make the mistake Gilda was unfortunate enough to make.” Esme huffed two tendrils of smoke in short impatient bursts.
Hannah rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms as she compared the two female Draecna. One self-assured and one self-effacing. She wondered how many times, in the history of Draecna, Gilda’s type of mistake had actually happened. Or did she really want to know? Her stomach gurgled as though filled with a thousand flopping fish. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled out her mouth. Deep breaths. She could do this.
“Don’t fry me, Esme. Think cool thoughts, okay?”
Esme’s eyes narrowed into insulted slits. “Ye still havena described a car door.”
She hadn’t been in this sector of the caverns. The crystals imbedded in the walls and the ceilings reflected the purest white. Even the floor of this part of the cave consisted of great slabs of crystal striated with silver and gold. Rows upon rows of black shining pews disappeared down each side of the colossal room. This section was so massive that even though it was well lit, she couldn’t tell where the cavern actually ended.
Hannah rubbed her hands together and forced herself not to wipe her damp palms against the folds of her lovely gown. Nervous perspiration rolled down her back, trickled down her butt, and threatened to roll even farther. She swallowed an anxious giggle. There was no way she’d ignite even if Esme did mess up. She’d drenched the lining of her gown with nervous sweat.
A raised platform stood several yards into the room surrounded by several pews. The pews held every Draecna she’d ever met, all waiting for her to join Esme, Taggart, and Isla on the center dais.
Taggart. Hannah raised her hand to her pounding chest as a surge of need stole the ability for her to breathe. Decked in black leather that strained across every muscle her hands ached to stroke, Taggart watched her with those eyes that said he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
“Come forth, Hannah, and receive Esme’s gift so ye might know many years of happiness as Taggart’s mate.” Isla motioned her forward with a wave of one claw, smiling as she nodded her great white head.
Breathe. She had to remember to breathe. Fingering the locket at her throat, Hannah made her way down the aisle. Stepping up to the platform, she glanced at Taggart before she turned to Esme.
I love ye, he mouthed with a slight nod of his head.
Hannah shivered. It was the first time Taggart had actually said the words. I love you too, she mouthed back. A warm glow released throughout her body.
“Are ye ready, Guardian?” Esme cleared her throat.
“I hope so, Esme.” Hannah took a deep breath as she turned her full attention on the young female. Esme seemed so determined and sure of herself. Hannah hoped she knew what she was doing.
“It will be fine, Guardian. Ye must trust me.”
“I do, Esme. Or I wouldn’t be here,” Hannah replied. “Please do whatever it is you’re going to do.”
Esme took a deep breath; her tiled chest expanded and shimmered beneath the torchlight flickering in the hall. Then she exhaled and enshrouded Hannah’s body in a cloud of silver-white flames, keeping them burning brightly as Isla’s voice echoed off the crystals scattered throughout the room.
“By the power of blaze, by the power of flame, death shall no longer have any claim.”
Inside the circle of flames, Hannah squinted against the brilliance of the light, reaching out to touch the flickering tongues of the fire around her. The flames licked through her fingers, but she felt no heat from the yellow-white tongues of fire. How odd to watch something that should be so painful and not register the normal feeling at all. But she felt different. She couldn’t quite place it; a strange coursing of energy pulsated through her body. Turning, Hannah raised her arms in the enveloping light, lost in the miasma of brightness surrounding her. Warmth seeped through her, like a sip of brandy as it burned down her throat and coursed through her entire system. Her hand to her chest, Hannah frowned and concentrated. Had she died? She pressed a finger to her wrist. She couldn’t detect the beating of her heart. She pressed down hard against the general area of her jugular vein. Wait, there it was. Finally, she felt it. Her heart had slowed to a rare beat every now and then. She exhaled and looked down at her hands. With a smile, she noticed the skin had smoothed to a lustrous eerie glow.
The flames gradually withered away and everyone’s smiling faces came into view.
“Ye see, Guardian? I told ye I would not crispy-critter ye, as ye so succinctly put it,” Esme stated with a disgruntled sniff.
Reaching out to clasp Esme’s front claws between her hands, Hannah bowed her head. “Thank you, Esme, for this precious gift, and I’m very sorry if I offended you.”
“Your gratitude and your apology are accepted.”
With a cough, Septamus stepped up to the platform with a curved dagger clutched in one claw. “Allow me to present this gift to ye, Guardian, from all your beloved Draecna. Ye now have the lifespan and the sight to see through the Waerin’s glamour. Unfortunately, there is no way to arm ye with the holiness of the Draecna fire. The claw of an ancient Draecna crafted this sacred dagger. It possesses the magic he controlled while he lived. Always keep it connected to your body. It will protect ye when others cannot be there for ye.”
Hannah hefted the knife in her hands, amazed how it immediately molded itself to her palms. It bonded to her as though it lived. She raised her head to meet Septamus’s thoughtful
gaze.
“It will protect ye, Guardian.”
“Thank you, Septamus.”
“And now for the joining,” Isla’s voice rang out once again. “Taggart and Hannah, please face each other.”
Esme took the knife out of Hannah’s hand and tucked it into the back of Hannah’s dress. “It must always be touching your skin to keep ye safe. Ye must always keep it with ye.”
“Thank you,” Hannah murmured as she fixed her bodice and turned to face Taggart.
“Taggart, reveal the mark for everyone to see.” Isla nodded to her son as she stood in front of Hannah and Taggart.
Reveal the mark? What mark? Hannah arched a brow at Taggart. She didn’t know if she liked the sound of that or not. Glancing around at the expectant faces, Hannah backed up a step from Taggart. “Reveal what mark?”
“Shh, easy now, love. Watch.” Taggart smiled down into her eyes as he caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Bending closer, he blew a warm breath down the base of her throat and bare décolleté, tracing his fingertips along behind it.
In the path of his touch appeared dark whirls and icons of an intricate ornate script. A tattoo of sorts, a black-patterned writing, started at the base of Hannah’s left ear, flowed down her throat and collarbone, and ended right between her breasts.
Hannah bent her head, staring down at as much of her chest as she could see. Catching her breath, she blinked twice at the detailed tattoo trailing down her body. “What is that?”
“It is my mark,” Taggart replied, opening his shirt to reveal an identical symbol on his chest.
“I don’t remember seeing that on you before.” Hannah ran her fingertips across her skin, frowning at the raised edges she felt running along her throat.
“It is only visible if we wish it to be, like today,” Taggart explained.
“Hannah, the mark is Draecna tradition. It is how Taggart implanted his DNA in your system so all know you to be his mate. It is irreversible. There is no question of fidelity with Taggart.” Isla expanded her chest with pride and nodded toward her son.
“It was just a bit of a surprise,” Hannah said, shooting Taggart a look that said he should’ve told her about it before he’d done it. At least with her extended lifetime, now she had an eternity to discover all his secrets.
Taggart just smiled.
Isla looked over the couple’s heads to the gathered Draecna. “Do ye accept the proof of Taggart’s mark?”
In unison, each Draecna in the room raised his snout and blasted a short burst of flames into the air.
“Taggart of the bloodline of Cair Orlandis, your proof has been accepted.” Isla nodded in Taggart’s direction and raised a golden brow when he failed to move. “Taggart?”
“William!” Taggart hissed to the young Draecna sitting on the pew closest to the platform.
“Now?” William jumped as though Gearlach had just elbowed him in the ribs.
“Yes, William, now,” Taggart groaned.
William stumbled up the steps and planted a good-sized rock into Taggart’s hands. “Sorry,” he mumbled, turned back around, and tripped back to his seat.
“Poor William,” Hannah whispered as she watched his scales flash a bright shade of red. Her poor little Draecna, younger and more innocent than all the rest, he was having such a hard time growing up.
Crumbling the rock between his hands, Taggart revealed two polished bands of a dark, lustrous metal. Sliding one of the bands over Hannah’s ring finger, he exhaled as it slid perfectly into place. “Draecna steel. Indestructible and pure. Just like my love for you.”
The metal warmed around her finger and sent a surge of energy pulsating through her veins. Her fingers trembling, Hannah blinked against the tears stinging her eyes as she reached for the other ring to slide onto Taggart’s finger. As she felt the ring settle in place, she raised her gaze to his. “I never thought I’d be happy again. I don’t know how you found me. But I’m so very glad you did.”
Taggart bent to accept the gift of Hannah’s kiss just as the ceiling exploded.
Taggart pushed Hannah to the floor and covered her body with his. “Septamus!” he roared as chunks of the cavern rained down all around them. He couldn’t see for the clouds of exploding crystals dusting all around them. Another blast shook the platform beneath them as Taggart transformed to his Draecna form. Spreading his wings, he shielded them both from the shards of gemstones pelting through the air.
“How did they get through to the caverns? I thought we were safe in here?” Hannah shouted, cringing and covering her eyes as debris bounced off Taggart’s wings and rattled to the floor beside them.
Taggart flinched as a larger clump pegged him squarely between his wings. Anger roared through his veins like liquid fury. So, Sloan had chosen today as the day of reckoning.
“I canna tell ye how he found the stronghold or why he chose this day,” he ground out between gritted teeth. Raising his head, he released his blaze and welded the loose gemstones against what was left of the ceiling. “That should hold long enough for William to lead ye out of this room and get ye both to the shelter.”
“I’m not leaving you.” Hannah shook her head as she wriggled her Draecna dagger out from the back of her dress. “That son of a bitch ruined my dress and my day. Do you think I’m leaving here without a fight?”
“William!” Taggart bellowed, not taking his eyes from the enraged gaze of his hardheaded mate. By all the gods, she would go to that shelter with young William even if he had to paralyze her with a catatonic spell and toss her over William’s back.
“I am here,” William panted, ducking as a boom echoed from a lesser cavern deeper to the north. “I will not fail ye, Taggart. Tell me what ye will have me do.”
Pulling Hannah’s wrist into William’s front claw, Taggart closed it around Hannah’s hand. “Take your mother to the shelter, William. Do not come out until I come for ye.” Taggart paused and stared down at Hannah’s tiny hand swallowed up by William’s clawed hold. His heart clenched at the sight of her delicate arm, so pale and fragile in William’s grasp. She had to be safe. He couldn’t comprehend living a moment without her. “Keep her there, William. One of us will come for the two of ye. Make certain ye do not open the door for anyone unless ye know ye can trust them.”
“The others have gone to fight the intruders.” William nodded toward one of the tall narrow doors dangling halfway off its hinges.
“I know, William.” Taggart nodded. “I’m glad ye stayed here as ye were taught. Ye did well and this is why. ’Tis your duty to lead the Guardian to the shelter. I must go and join the others to fight off the intruders.”
“William, I want you to go to the shelter, but I’m going to stay and fight at Taggart’s side. Now let me go. Uncurl your claw. I promise I’ll be just fine.” Hannah squirmed and tried to pry her hand from William’s clenched claw as she spoke, frowning when William shook his head.
“No. Taggart has given me a direct order, Mother, and it sounds as though it’s for your own good.” William tugged on her arm and encircled her with his wing as he edged them toward a curtained off alcove toward the side of the room. “Come on, Mother. The shelter is safe. We must make the passage before another volley hits and seals off the corridor.”
“Dammit, Taggart! I said I am not going!” Hannah planted her feet and grabbed the tip of his wing with her free hand. “I can stay and help you fight. I’m an immortal too now, remember? I’m not leaving here without you.”
Touching her forehead with the tip of his claw, Taggart rendered her limp as a child’s rag doll. “I love ye, Hannah,” Taggart whispered as he caught her up in his arms and settled her across William’s back. Smoothing her green eyes closed, he pressed his lips to her temple. “I will come for ye when it is safe. Until then, ye must stay with William.” He hated to leave her, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her facing Sloan.
With a nod to William, Taggart rose up and spread his wings. “The spell will ren
der her motionless, and silent, for three days, lad. Hopefully, I shall be back to save your poor hide before she recovers and regains her tongue.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“How many still live?” Sloan pressed his finger along the top of the crystal, relishing how much the squeal of the glass mimicked the cry of a victim in pain.
“Gearlach is the only confirmed Draecna kill, my lord. The Waerins have placed his head on a spike outside the tents. I havena bothered to count the villagers. I didna think ye gave a damn about them.” Corter ran his thick tongue across his bulging lower lip as he ogled Sloan’s glass of wine.
Swirling the blood-red liquid in the long stemmed glass, Sloan frowned as he pondered Corter’s report. “Ye mean to tell me, we’ve only killed one of those infernal beasts? What the hell seems to be the problem?” They’d been blasting the caverns for nearly three days. They should’ve mangled a few more of those monstrosities than that. “Are the vermin that difficult to kill?”
Corter didn’t answer. He stood hypnotized by the ruby-red temptation swirling in Sloan’s glass.
“Corter!” Sloan splattered the wine in the man’s face. “There. Now that ye’ve had your wine maybe you can answer my question. Why is Gearlach the only Draecna casualty?”
Swiping at his face with the back of his hand, Corter sputtered and licked his lips. “Draecna are not the easiest creatures to kill. Their lives can only be taken by one o’ their own. ’Tis something to do with that friggin’ magic flowing through their bloody veins.”
“I was promised the power of the Waerins was great. I was assured their abilities would secure the safety of my throne.” Sloan tired of this bothersome game. His castle lay in ruins. During the battles, he’d taken to following the skirmishes in this less-than-adequate tent. He enjoyed his luxuries and grew bored with the constant noise and grime of this utter foolishness. It was high time they all gave up and died so he could return to his accustomed standard of living.
“A Waerin’s no match for a Draecna, m’lord.” Corter backed closer to the flap of the tent and ducked as Sloan lobbed the wineglass directly at his head.
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