by Bonnie Vanak
She sighed, seemingly with relief. But Gideon was not relieved. He stared at her.
“She has your powers. Son of a bastard elf, Tristan, she has our powers!” Gideon wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic.
He gave a humorless smile. “Our powers, turned to flowers.”
Outside the storm quieted, now that they no longer fought.
Staring at his Nikita, he felt a sense of awed wonder he had not experienced since becoming the Silver Wizard. He and Gideon fought with energy balls often in Tir Na-nog. It relieved boredom and there was no harm in it, since they could not physically damage the other. The goddess Danu had ensured no one wizard could rise in power above the others.
But none of them could vanquish the other’s power, either. Nikita stared at the lilies on the carpet. They slowly faded, and Tristan’s gut churned. Her power had not lasted. A grim reminder that what lay inside her could not last, either, and when that happened…
He must get her out of here.
Tristan bowed his head at Gideon. “Gabhmoleithsceal, my friend,” he said in the formal words of the Brehon.
“Gabhmoleithsceal, my friend.” Gideon apologized and bowed as well.
“I shall take care of clean-up,” Tristan offered.
The Crimson Wizard nodded at Nikita. “My lady.” He jerked a thumb toward the balcony. “Tristan, a moment alone.”
A balmy ocean breeze lifted the strands of his long hair, making the silver glint in the sunshine. Tristan braced his hands on the railing. “What is it?”
“Crown Prince Alexander of Clan Drakon, one of your dragon shifters, was pulled into the Shadow Lands by his great-grandfather, Drust, when the prince was about to take on four red dragons he believes assaulted Emma, Alexander’s friend. How the hell could Drust pull him into the afterworld?”
“When Sebastian was serving me he exchanged blood with Alexander in an oath of loyalty. Sebastian’s blood contained the magick I instilled in him to allow him to travel back and forth between this world and the afterworld.”
“And with the blood exchange Prince Alexander could also travel back and forth between this world and the afterworld.” Gideon’s gaze grew suspicious. “I believe you suggested this blood vow.”
He blinked. “What is wrong with a dragon blood vow? It cements friendships and ties when one dragon leaves a clan to join another.”
“And that portal is the one you created when Sebastian was serving you.”
“Yes.”
Gideon stared. “You said you would close that portal after you freed Sebastian from his service to you.”
“I changed my mind and left it open for Sebastian so he could visit Drust in the Shadow Lands.” Sebastian had used the portal as a gateway from Earth to the Shadow Lands and then to Tir Na-nog during his years of service to Tristan.
“That was kind of you to allow Drust to see his beloved great-grandson. Not wise, but kind. Most unexpected.”
Tristan’s smile grew grim. “I did not do it as a kindness to Drust. I did it so Sebastian could tell Drust how I endowed him with more gold after his marriage, and how close we have grown. Sebastian is like a son to me. He is quite grateful to me for all I have done for him and Skylar, his mate. And he will not visit Drust any longer because, as I reminded him, his life is in this world, not the next.”
And the one report Sebastian had given him was quite eye-opening. Sebastian had said Drust grew quite angry after Sebastian praised Tristan. Drust told him to never trust Tristan, for “you’re my blood, Sebastian, not that silver-haired bastard. I’m your family, not him. You owe him no loyalty. He’s trying to take over my family. If I could get out of here, I’d smash his face in.”
Tristan had found his enemy’s weak spot, and planned to strike him there. Hard.
“What games are you playing, my friend?” Gideon asked slowly. “Do not trifle with Crown Prince Alexander. Force him to leave the Shadow Lands and get him back home. It is one thing to meddle in the affairs of a silver dragon like Sebastian, but interfering in the life of the heir to the Drakon dragon clan is another. Alexander is destined to marry and mate with Princess Sabrina from Clan Ciamoth.”
Tristan shrugged. “Would I interrupt true love? If it were true love?”
“You would strike at the heart of your enemy for revenge.” Gideon folded his arms. “You suffered a terrible death, Tristan, but you were made immortal by our goddess, Danu. You must forgive and forget.”
“I can forget my death. And the torture I suffered.” He stretched out his hands, watching the wolf claws emerge from his fingertips.
“I can never forgive Drust’s actions in the vision I saw afterward.” His body tensed, and the wolf claws sharpened. “After King Emer had me executed, he ordered my head mounted on a pike on the castle wall. Drust stole my head and waved it before a crowd. In triumph.”
“Visions are a tricky thing, Tristan,” Gideon warned. “They are not always clear.”
He forced the wolf claws to retreat. “This one was. He gloated over my death. And I am certain Drust caused Nikita’s death, and the death of our babe, something I can never forgive. He killed my son before he was born. Killed him so I would have no descendants, no legacy on Earth.”
In the Shadow Lands, he had a plan to crush Drust’s dearest hope beneath his boot heel. Embittered, Drust would suffer the most demoralizing defeat and never escape the Shadow Lands, never have the hope of ascending to Tir Na-nog and finding peace and the chance for reincarnation and eventual reunion with his kin. While he, Tristan, continued to be both guardian and judge of the dragons, and remain in close contact with Drust’s family.
Gideon held up a hand. “Your revenge is your affair, Tristan. I cannot interfere. But find Prince Alexander and return him to his family so the marriage can take place.”
He gave Gideon an innocent look. “Of course I will. I do adore weddings.”
With a warning glance at Tristan, the Crimson Wizard vanished.
Tristan went back inside. Niki sat on the sofa, clutching the lapels of her robe, still staring at the carpet, scented with the sweet smell of lilies.
“I did that.”
Tristan went to her and placed his hands upon her shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze. He drank in her scent, spices and fresh lilies and everything his heart wanted.
“As I told you, you have our powers. The potion you drank contains droplets of my blood, and the blood of the Brehon. Our blood contains our powers.”
He waved a hand and the room was restored to rights, as if his battle with Gideon had never happened. Tristan went to the sideboard and took the little knife sitting by a bowl of fruit. He cut his finger. Silver blood welled up. He went to the vase still filled with lilies, dripped one droplet upon a tight bud and it burst into full bloom.
Her gaze widened.
“And that is what is inside me?”
“For now. It is what saved your life from the parvolupus disease.” The cut flesh healed and he set down the knife.
“But it cannot last. The energy I conjured, the flowers…they are gone.”
“Yes.” His chest went tight as the realization dawned in her eyes.
“And when the power inside me dies? What then?”
Emotion clogging his throat, he managed to find his voice. “Then you die as well.”
Chapter 5
What irony. Tristan had saved her, but it could not last. How long did she have to live?
Utterly drained and shaken, Nikita climbed between the covers of the freshly made bed. She, the wolf who had hidden away, now possessed a great and terrible power.
Nikita stretched out her fingers and stared at them. A power she did not want, nor understand, that would ultimately destroy her.
What other surprises did Tristan have in store?
“You failed to tell me about this,” she said, fighting a sense of unreality.
“I was going to.”
“Verbal ability is a highly overrated thing in a guy, an
d it’s our pathetic need for it that gets us into so much trouble.” She sighed. “Sleepless in Seattle. Becky was right. But then again, she never met anyone like you.”
Tristan materialized on the bed. “I am sorry for fighting, and for alarming you.”
Niki stared at her hands, which began to shake. “Why am I so exhausted?”
“The power you expelled. The first time you use it, it drains you. The same happened to all of us after we ascended to the council of the Brehon. For us, we replenish our energy differently. For you, sleep is required.”
His sensual mouth turned down. “Rest now, and when you awaken, I will explain it all.”
Instinct told her that he would not move until she stirred. For once, she felt glad of his presence.
Niki closed her eyes, willing herself to dream. Instinct also told her the past could be recreated in dreams and she needed to know what they had shared, needed to know before she faded into dust.
Knowledge is power, she’d often told Nia, her twin sister.
She began to dream….
She saw a woman lying upon an enormous canopied bed, velvet hangings adorning the posts. Her face was in shadow, but the woman writhed in pain, her hands over her belly. Another young woman wiped a wet cloth over the patient’s sweating forehead. She was shapely, but plain. Camilla. She knew this somehow, that Camilla had become a good friend to her before the woman’s mate had died. Camilla insisted on caring for her when the pregnant woman grew too large and ungainly to move about.
But all Camilla’s ministrations were useless. The woman on the bed was dying. The poison she had drunk, innocently thinking the cup held a magick potion to help her baby grow strong in the womb, was seeping into her bloodstream. Her senses dulled by grief over losing her mate, the pregnant woman had failed to use caution. She had no male to protect her, no family to watch over her welfare. She was in tremendous pain and gasped for breath.
She was all alone. Niki’s heart ached with pity for the dying woman.
Attendants stood nearby, looking helpless and grief-stricken. Niki watched as a tall, rugged man, his long black hair tied back, strode into the room.
Not Tristan, but another. Her heart pounded as she recognized the man.
Drust, his best friend and betrayer.
Drust went to the woman holding the wet cloth and pushed her aside. “She cannot be saved. Tristan’s heir will die with her.”
“No,” the woman said, tears streaming down her face. “It cannot be. Why, Drust? She already lost her mate. She was innocent in all this! You said you wished to make up for Tristan’s death when you gave me that potion to help her baby!”
Then the pregnant woman on the bed gasped and screamed her last. They pulled the sheet over her face, but first Niki caught a glimpse of the dead woman…
It was her. She had died, and the child she was to bear, Tristan’s son, had died with her…all because his former best friend had caused her death with a potion that contained poison.
Gasping, she rolled over, moaning, sensing she had this dream before. No, no. Someone stroked a cool hand over her forehead and the vision faded.
“Sweet dreams,” a deep voice murmured, and she knew it was Tristan. “Dream of us, my sweet. Only of us.”
And then the familiar dream she’d experienced before began, as it always did, with her pacing the long, protected walkway behind the battlement of a stone castle…
She could see the turret close by, with a door she could access if she had to run and seek safety.
Sounds of war raged in the distance. Nikita’s heart pounded with fear as she gazed beyond the fields to the forest where the fighting raged. The day had dawned cold and wet, and the battle had moved closer to the castle. For weeks he had been at war, fighting to protect the land and those he loved. But the enemy was strong.
Her love was out there. Would he return?
He must return, for she would die if he spilled his life’s blood upon the battlefield.
Tristan. His name was Tristan, the guardian of Castle Baldwin, and lord and protector of shifters.
So dedicated to his people, not only Lupine, but all shifters, for the Fae had enthralled all shifters, making them into little more than servants. Emer, the Fae king, liked her mate, and had granted him title of the land and the castle.
But Tristan, and the other Lupines, were forbidden to hunt in the forest unless they asked permission from Emer.
This is not freedom, Tristan had told her, lying in their bed and stroking her hair after their love play. “If I must war with the Fae, so be it.” He had placed a warm palm upon her bare belly. “For you, and the future of the child you will bear.”
“I’m not with child,” she’d protested.
He had smiled. “Not yet. But soon.”
A shiver went through her at the heated promise in his eyes. Nikita had placed her palm over his. “You made a promise to me on our mating day, Tristan, a promise to me and our future young. ‘I will always put you above all others, and your needs first.’ Can you not appoint someone else to lead the war if it comes to that? Drust has much knowledge of war and strategy. He would make an excellent general.”
He had gone silent, his gaze distant. “Let us not talk any more of war, my sweet. I am cold and need your arms around me.”
As always, he’d silenced her worries with his mouth, and made fierce love to her, making her forget all reason.
That was two months ago, and now the inhabitants of Baldwin Castle, and all shifters, were at war with the Fae. Tristan, her mate and her love, lead the battle cry, despite her concerns.
Now as she walked the battlement, a cold wind made her shiver, despite the fur lining her gown. Worry needled her, as sharp as the piercing wind, even though Tristan was powerful. He held the looks of a youth, and possessed the age and wisdom of an elder. Once she dared to ask him how old he was and he had laughed.
“Older than you, my sweet,” he had told her. “Old enough to remember the time when dragons were plentiful as the fish swimming in the sea. But you are my first love, my only love.”
And then she heard the triumphant horns sound, and relief made her shoulders sag. Nikita peered at the gray horizon and saw a silver dragon take flight toward the castle as the troops began to emerge from the forest. Joy turned to a new worry.
Turning, she started to flee for the safety of the turret, but the dragon was swift. He landed on the roof, folded his massive wings and waited.
She sighed. “I know.”
The silver dragon smiled, showing rows of wicked, jagged teeth. His tail swished back and forth like a cat’s. Drust, Tristan’s best friend and his ally in the war.
“I’m not supposed to be here. Drust, let me pass.”
Blinking, the dragon did not move. Anxiety filled her. Perhaps the dragon had bad news to share.
“Shift back to your human form so you may speak to me,” she directed.
The dragon did not.
Frustrated, she scowled. “Then do not remain silent! Tell me! Is Tristan hurt?”
Drust shook his head.
Sighing with relief, she pointed to the ground. “Go fetch him, and bring him to the chamber straight away. He will be hungry and thirsty. Go!”
The silver dragon stretched his wings and flew down to the ground. As she scurried to the turret, she peered over the side and saw the dragon lift into the air again, this time bearing a rider upon his back.
Tristan would not only be hungry and thirsty. He would be furious.
Nikita hurried through the castle until she reached a large chamber. The heavy wood door stood open to show a fire crackling in the hearth. The chamber was a bedroom. The same bedroom she’d visited each night.
Near the fireplace were two carved chairs and a wood table. Upon it were two large basins, one filled with water, and a stack of clean cloths. A trencher filled with fruit and a joint of beef were next to a goblet filled with ale. A bench was near the table.
She paid no heed
to these pieces of furniture. Her interest remained in the massive bed covered with furs. The furs were to keep warm in the drafty castle, but she had him to heat her body from the inside out.
The dragon rider strode into the room in silence. Nikita stood near the bed, watching him. Standing over six feet, he was strong and handsome. His eyes were dark as night, and his black hair brushed against his shoulders.
The warrior crossed the room to the fireplace. He unbuckled his sword belt and then carefully set it upon the table. It remained in easy reach. Always the warrior, never allowing his weapon to be far from him. He could fight in Lupine form, but the Fae were clever, and riding Drust gave Tristan an advantage in a war filled with flying fairies and sprites.
He washed the dirt and grime off his face, then dried it with a clean cloth. Removing his shirt, stained with the blood of others, he turned to her, the strong muscles of his broad shoulders gleaming in the firelight.
“You finally returned home, for you won the battle,” she told him.
“I always win. Drust is a strong dragon, and one cannot defeat an army led by a dragon.”
“But you are his rider, and his warrior. You are their leader.”
A crooked smile touched his sensual mouth. “Your flattery will not distract me, my sweet.”
Her pulse skipped a beat at the look on his face. “Distract you? From what?”
“You disobeyed me,” he said softly in a tone that brooked no disobedience.
Nikita blinked. “Did I?”
Tristan took the cloth and dipped it into the warm basin of water. He began scrubbing the blood and dirt off his chest. Nikita sighed with relief, seeing he was not wounded. There were a few nicks and deep purple bruises, but nothing serious. As he scrubbed his armpits, he studied her.
“I told you to never show your face where the enemy can see you while I am gone.”
“Drust told you I was pacing the battlement.” She knew the dragon would, for the shifter confided in Tristan.
“He worries about your safety much as I do.”
