Golden Embrace

by Clara Hartley

  “I’m a growing boy. Dragon puberty isn’t the kindest on emotions.” He gave her a cheeky grin. He recovered from his pain quickly.

  “I’ve seen calm teenage dragons.”

  “They’re the strange ones.” He was still grinning, but shortly after, his face fell. Reorden stiffened. He was looking at the entrance. “I don’t think Lord Everstone likes you working here.”

  Her eyes followed her patient’s. She saw Rayse perched at the entrance, wearing a mask of warning.

  “He gets like that.” She smiled to herself about the way the boy looked like he was going to wet himself. “Don’t you enjoy sticking up for yourself and picking challenges?”

  “Not with him.” The young man swallowed nervously.

  “Stay tough.” She made one final check of his wound, to make sure everything was in order, then stood up. She fished her coat from the hanger. Greta had already left, and Reorden was the last patient for the day. They were getting fewer visits from the dragons these days, save for the mishram who were all standing at the back of the clinic. The Dragon Mother’s disappearance had stopped their enemies from getting so riled up.

  “Go on now,” she said to Reorden. “I need to lock up.”

  The boy wasted no time in scampering away. He avoided Rayse like the plague as he left. Rayse wouldn’t stop glaring at him, and that made Reorden quicken.

  She lifted a cricket from one of her jars and shut the doors behind the curtains of the clinic. She whispered a cheap spell to make sure they were shut tight. The insect fell dead. Only Greta and Constance knew the password for reopening the clinic. She ambled up to Rayse. She flashed him a warm look despite his hot, territorial gaze. She knew he wouldn’t hurt the boy. His dragon was past that because they’d finished their mate bond.

  Almost finished it.

  A pang of guilt hit her chest when she thought about it. She still hadn’t told Rayse about the temporary spell. He was so joyous about their new dynamic that she couldn’t bring herself to mention it. She recalled the way he had stormed off after the bond had just formed, right after she told him about trying to stop them from being mates. She was afraid the same thing would happen again once she revealed the truth.

  Her aversion to the truth had started with light procrastination. Then it dragged on. Soon, weeks had passed and it felt like she had passed the point of no return when it came to telling the truth.

  “I thought I asked you to save the male patients for Greta,” he said, a growl in his throat. “You don’t have to touch them.”

  “As you can see, she isn’t around.”

  “You could have asked him to wait till tomorrow.”

  She chuckled. “It doesn’t work like that.” She kept close to his side as they strode into the cool winds. Her coat was warm enough, but Rayse felt far more comfortable.

  “I thought you didn’t like males?”

  “You taught me that not all of them are terrible.” She hooked her fingers over his. “Now, dessert?”

  “Actually, I have something better.” He dug into his pocket. He rounded his arm around her and pulled her close. She could smell his ashy scent. Did he mean sex? He wouldn’t be wrong if he meant that sex was better than dessert.

  She shot him a curious glance, ignoring the heady sensation his presence gave her.

  He smiled as he pulled out a small sack. It wasn’t larger than the palm of her hand. He passed it to her, and she received the gift carefully.

  “What is it?” she asked. She tried to be cautious about getting her hopes up.

  “Look inside.”

  She tugged the seams of the pouch open and peered in. Her heart fluttered when she had the first inkling of what it was. She heard the objects in the pouch clink together. “Soul beads? How did you get them?” She picked one out, handling it as if it were worth a kingdom—and it probably was.

  “I sent Fraser and some men. They complained that these came at no easy cost.”

  “Thank you,” she said, grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. These would be incredibly useful in her research. “I can’t believe you listened to that long ramble. I’m touched.” She rewarded him with a kiss. Knowing Rayse had gone through the trouble to procure these for her sent butterflies through her chest.

  “Do you want to go to Everndale?” he asked. “I’m sure that store’s still open.”

  “I’d rather not,” she said. “I want to test my new toys out.” She shook the beads in her palm and smiled sheepishly up at her mate.

  “I thought so.” He brushed his fingers across her shoulder. Her skin tingled wherever he touched. She hoped he didn’t notice her blushing. “I’ll take you home first,” he said. “There’s this hearing I’ll have to attend to.” His mood visibly soured at the mentioning of his meeting, but he quickly wiped the expression of distaste away. “And after I’m back, I’m expecting a reward.”

  “Reward?”

  He drew her in and captured her lips with his. The scent of him made her dizzy. His abdomen was hard beneath her touch, and his mouth was heavy on hers. She lost her breath, just like that.

  He let her go. It was a challenge to level her breathing. “Oh, that kind of reward.” The corners of her lips turned up sheepishly.

  The intensity he used to look at her made her knees weak. “Let’s go home.”

  Constance scuttled away from her mate. She watched as he flew off, giving her a light wave as he did. A reward, he had said. That promise made her nerves taut with a kind of excitement she wasn’t sure was appropriate. Well, but of course it is. Rayse was her husband. She could think those things about him. She didn’t need to be afraid of him anymore. They’d shared the bed countless times, and her nights were always eventful. Her chest ached from anticipation of what he would do to her this time.

  She pushed away those thoughts and ran to her study—a new one Rayse had built especially for her—with her beads clinking together in her hands. They looked unassuming, but were extraordinary items. They had been concocted by the water witches with a long-lost art to hold soul magic.

  The dusty scent of books hit her as soon as she stepped through the door to her study. It was home. But it was mixed with an animal odor, because of what she needed to experiment with. With these soul beads, she wouldn’t need to have the animals so close to where she worked anymore.

  Constance plucked a snow rat from one of its cages. The last few months of thinking had given her an ingenious way to solve a grain problem the clan had, while giving her plenty of souls to test with. The grain shipments from Yvrdeen attracted pests—mostly snow rats from the mountains. And despite how many she’d caught and harvested, they always managed to find their way into the food.

  She and Nanili had spent countless hours in the grain stores trying to find and trap these critters. Neither of them were the most efficient at catching rodents at first. After weeks of struggling, she had devised a trap. The traps made catching the snow rats a breeze. She hardly had to try anymore. Nanili did most of the work these days, collecting the critters from the wooden devices on the steep slopes of the mountains and their grain stores.

  Sometimes, when Constance wanted to clear her mind with a walk, she would go alone to collect the tiny rats. She preferred to avoid Nanili when she could. The mishram frightened her, even though she didn’t have any reason to be afraid of it.

  The critter felt slimy in her hands. It made a squeak, which sent a crawling sensation through her skin. She knocked the rat over the head, which made it pass out, so it’d lie still while she harvested its soul.

  “Es rea misreagou, kisla misreagou,” she said, reciting the spells to draw souls from animals.

  The magic swirled in her hand in a rainbow that starkly contrasted with the matted fur of the creature. She directed the magic to the beads. Nothing happened, and a lot of the rat’s soul drained into the atmosphere. She furrowed her brow, then remembered the last phrase. “Ah, yes: Couela misreagou.” She almost stuttered on the first syllable, but the spe
ll worked. The magic drew itself into one of the glass beads. It gathered. The glass object glowed with a dim white light.

  She beamed, feeling the excitement of discovery coursing through her. This brought her one step closer, albeit a small one, to the cause of Eduard’s death. Perhaps these beads were the reason why such huge amounts of souls could be stored to cast such a murderous spell.

  Sometimes, wading through the books felt like swimming through murky waters. She ended some days feeling immensely frustrated, but Rayse was always there to make things feel better. She wondered if she would be as driven to investigate Eduard’s murder if not for Rayse’s guiding support and understanding. Without him as an anchor, she might have just cruised through life in a depression.

  She examined the orb. It didn’t manage to capture much of the rat’s soul. It was most likely because of her fumble. She wondered how brightly it’d glow once completely filled, and how many souls it could contain.

  She’d have to test that out.

  Her head started to whirl, and her stomach cramped. She clutched her hand to her belly, scrunching up the fabric there.

  It was happening again.

  “Nanili, the bucket!”

  The mishram took slow strides toward the hallway. Constance would appreciate it if Nanili didn’t dawdle. Her vomit couldn’t wait much longer. In haste, she rushed past her servant and to the bucket she had prepared for such a purpose.

  She made an awful retching noise. The night’s dinner, a stew, poured from her guts. Her eyes teared as she puked. She’d been eating herbs to help with digestion, thinking they might calm her disobedient stomach. They’d failed to ease the problem.

  She cursed and wiped her mouth. After she washed up, she went back to her room to drink more of the herbal mixture she had prepared for herself. She couldn’t fall sick now, not when she had so much to do.

  But these signs… the women back in Evernbrook had them when they were pregnant.

  She couldn’t be—could she? Her bond hadn’t fully formed with Rayse.

  She was too deep in the secret to let him know without him being mad. Maybe if she’d just told him earlier…

  She’d have to spill it eventually—but maybe it’d be better if he found out after the spell was over and their temporary bond broke. He wouldn’t have to go through a year’s agony of knowing that their bond was faked, and they could get on with forming a proper bond right after.

  She heaved herself up and wiped her lips with a towel. She’d think about the problem later.

  Another worry for another day.