Geva, having seemingly recovered from her shock, bounced across, picked up the leather-bound cover, and grinned showing Rhonda the title page.
“Well that figures.” Drorgan’s amused words shook her out of the funk invading her mind at this moment, as he took the book out of his daughter’s hands and winked at her.
“Yes, you’re right. Beauty did get her beast, didn’t she? I think we got the better deal, little bird.”
Geva giggled and wrapped her little arms around both their legs, while Drorgan cupped the side of Rhonda’s face.
Smile, my love. This is where the fairytale ends, and we all live happily ever after.
Rhonda couldn’t shake the impending feeling of doom. It couldn’t be that easy could it?
What if it’s not?
Drorgan frowned at her whispered question in his mind.
What do you mean, little dragon. You’re here, I’m here, the castle still stands.
He closed his eyes, and his frown deepened.
As do the boundaries, admittedly.
Boundaries?
Drorgan winced, and Rhonda was quite pleased at her ability to shout in his mind. Who knew one could do such things? Aware of the curious look on Geva’s face as she let go of them both, and looked up at them expectantly, she smiled and picked her up.
Never mind, you can fill me in on that later, unless it’s something I need to know right now?
No, just stay in the castle until I can explain them to you.
Drorgan looked worried, but he, too, fixed a smile on his face and putting his arms around her and Geva, twirled them around.
“I say, we go and sneak into the kitchens and see if we can liberate some of Cook’s cookies that she’s baking for the steward’s daughter’s wedding.”
Geva clapped her hands together and taking hold of both Rhonda and Drorgan dragged them out of the library. Neither one saw the one remaining bit of parchment, glow and expand, as it pulled the ashes to itself, nor did they hear the whisper in the breeze.
Too easy…
Chapter Thirteen
Six months later
Drorgan banked to the right, taking off across the sea. Air rushed by him, and breathing in deeply he pulled the promise of spring into his nostrils. It had indeed been a long hard winter, just as he’d feared. However, having been holed up in the castle for most of it, it had also been extremely pleasurable. Rhonda made every day seem brighter the minute she smiled at him.
Glancing down at his distorted reflection in the waters he found his dragon self, grinning back at him. Who’d have thought that being mated would turn a man into a grinning fool? Not that he ever felt a fool for showing his emotions in front of Rhonda.
He’d very quickly learned that his little dragon mate had a temper to match the fiercest she-dragon he’d ever had the misfortune to meet. After their shaky start, he’d do anything to make Rhonda happy, and talking played a large part in that. Drorgan shook his head. He’d rather solve any disagreement by fucking. Surely that made more sense than this baring of one’s feelings?
That just meant he was fast losing his fearsome reputation around his people, and he’d been somewhat aggrieved to find that handing him a baby to bounce on his knee, when they came for an audience now seemed the norm.
Surely there ought to be laws about showing such little respect to one’s dragon lord? Not for the world would he admit to anyone that baby bouncing was also fast turning into his favorite way to pass the time. That and the making of said babies, of course. He pushed the melancholy moment of sadness away. If there was one fly in the ointment of his content, it was the fact that Rhonda had yet to conceive. It certainly wasn’t due to lack of trying on his part. He knew it bothered his mate greatly, but he wasn’t concerned yet.
There was plenty of time, and in the meantime he enjoyed the getting there part immensely. Swinging back the way he came he made his way toward the Emerald Isle. A sense of peace came over him whenever he approached his castle. Childish laughter reached his ears, and he swooped lower to see what all the commotion was about.
He spotted Geva’s blonde head easily enough. It seemed with the snow having melted away, and the sun out today, Rhonda had decided it was time to take playtime outside of the castle’s grounds. It still worried him a little when she wandered off. Not that the boundaries had moved even an inch in the last six months. Maybe the curse was well and truly broken.
Rhonda seemed to think so. She had been fascinated by the invisible boundaries when he’d pointed them out to her.
“So, no one can go through, and they all turn to dust if they do?” she’d asked. “I guess I can understand that, if it’s folks from the past, because they don’t yet exist in the future. But, surely I ought to be able to go through?” He’d had to admit that he didn’t know the answers. Her nose had wrinkled up in her confusion. Whenever she did that it made him want to ravish her. For the life of him, he didn’t know why that was such a turn-on. He certainly didn’t find it all that attractive on other women. On his mate, however, it was an entirely different story. Setting himself down on the top of the cliffs, he tucked in his wings and watched her. It seemed all of the village children had joined his mate and daughter, and he shook his head in mild amusement. He shouldn’t be and wasn’t really surprised.
Children seemed to naturally flock to his little dragon and under her careful patronage the castle, and in particular the library and ballroom had become an impromptu play group. Rhonda held a daily story telling time in the library, and she had recently added what she called an art and craft session.
To Drorgan it just looked like an excuse to let the little devils loose with paint, fabric, knives, sticks, and glue, to mention a few of the things that had crunched under his feet lately, but the children certainly enjoyed it. More importantly Rhonda’s smile was never far away these days, and little Geva certainly enjoyed getting to know children her own age.
While she could easily project her thoughts onto anyone now by the mere act of touching them, it was nonetheless gratifying to see her peers learning her sign language.
Today’s session seemed to involve kite-flying. Drorgan regarded the flying objects invading his airspace with a healthy dose of suspicion. How these flimsy creations of sticks, leather, cotton, and various other assorted fabrics managed to fly at all was beyond him. Fly they did, however, and while they defied the rules of gravity, they also confounded him by not following any discernible pattern. He’d lost count how many times one of the blasted things had collided with him. There were rules to flight, dammit, and these things, especially in the hands of small children, never followed them. He winced recalling the moment one of the damn things collided with his bollocks spiky end first. His fiery outburst had resulted in setting the torture object alight, and the resulting screams of the four year old owner of said object had deafened him for a good long while. Little Ernest still gave him that longsuffering reproachful look every time they crossed paths again.
It was why he chose to stay on this cliff top and observe proceedings from afar. It was far safer for everyone, though the close proximity to the invisible barrier at the bottom of the long grassy slope gave him some reason for concern. Rhonda knew it was there, of course.
As fascinated as she was by the concept of the barriers, she’d never tried to breach them. Drorgan knew her argument was that she would be okay if she did, because that was her time on the other side. However, as they couldn’t be sure if either of them could go back, were they to try to breach them they’d agreed never to attempt it. Her declaration had soothed the last niggling doubts in his soul.
“I have everything I need right here. There is nothing and no one important enough to make me want to go back there.” She’d grinned at his sharp intake of breath, and standing on tiptoes had brushed her lips against his. “I love you, you silly dragon, and I’m not going anywhere, so get used to having me around.”
He grinned recalling that moment now, because, natural
ly it had been his solemn duty to show his insolent mate who was the boss in their relationship. After having spanked her behind into a nice red glow, he’d proceeded to fuck that ass. All in all a most satisfactory way to spend an afternoon, and now that the snow had finally melted and the air was warming up, one that they would have to repeat very soon.
As though she sensed his thoughts, Rhonda chose that moment to look up at him. With the sun behind him she had to look straight into it. She shaded her eyes with her hand, and smiled up at him, before she switched her attention to the little girl trying to launch her kite into the air. The blacksmith’s daughter hung onto every word and nodded solemnly, before she took off at a speed belying her little legs.
His dragon roared a warning, as she ran straight toward the edge. Flapping his wings he took off to intervene, but Rhonda was closer. Not caring for her own safety she threw herself at little Marianna, and knocked her off course. His blood ran cold, when Rhonda caught her foot in a protruding tree root, and fell sideways.
Claws outstretched he swooped low in a desperate attempt to reach his mate, before disaster struck. Rhonda gained momentum at terrifying speed, however, as she rolled down the grass bank and through the veil seconds before he could scoop her up. Her scream of terror rang in his ears as he, too, crashed through the veil, getting one last glimpse of his mate in a crumpled heap on the asphalt of the road she’d landed on. There was the sound of a horn, and the metallic squeal of car’s brakes being applied to the maximum of their ability, and then the landscape changed to the rolling hills of his time. Nothing but farmland and open space as far as the eye could see, and most terrifying of all, no barriers. The veil guarding her time had disappeared just like his mate had. Drorgan howled his grief to the skies, but it was no use. None of the barriers were there anymore. He was finally truly free, as were his kin, but at what cost?
Faint laughter carried across the breeze.
Is your love strong enough, oh mighty Lord Drorgan…
Drorgan threw a stream of fire into the path of those words, but it was useless. He was alone once more.
****
A brass band seemed to have taken up residence in Rhonda’s head when she struggled back to consciousness. Everything hurt as though she had been dragged through a hedge backwards, and her heart rate kicked up as she recalled what had happened. That annoying beep in her ear got louder, more rapid and insistent, and she pulled in deep breaths. Something was covering her face, and when she tried to pull it off, her fingers encountered what could only be the rubbery plastic of an oxygen mask, which meant...
“Drorgan, no. What? Where?” The words came out muffled, and she struggled to open her eyes. When she managed the task, she was immediately blinded by the glare of the overhead fluorescent lighting, and that beeping sound became frantic.
A sob escaped Rhonda’s throat, and tears blurred her vision as reality sat in. She was back in her time, wired up to machines to check her oxygen levels and heart rate. Machines which would any minute now bring the medical personnel running in to check on her. What was worse, she couldn’t sense her dragon anywhere. His reassuring spicy musk was missing. In its place was the unmistakable aroma of a busy hospital ward. Antiseptic, the low murmur of voices, the squeaking of rubber soles on the linoleum flooring, and underneath it all, once she managed to yank the rubber mask off her face, the stench of pollution coming in through the slightly open window. Gasoline, oil, the smell of fast food being prepared somewhere.
It all hit Rhonda at once, overwhelmed her, so when an elderly nurse came into her room, smiled at her, and urged her back onto the narrow hospital bed, while putting her oxygen mask back on, Rhonda didn’t fight her.
“There you are, my dear. Take it easy now. You took quite a tumble, according to the driver who brought you in.” Rhonda’s eyes widened at those words, and she was right back there. The moment she fell through the veil of time, right into the path of the oncoming car. Drorgan’s terror filled shout in her mind, drowned out by the squeal of brakes, the smell of burning rubber, and then nothing but darkness until she woke up here.
“Tell Dr. O’Byrne that our Jane Doe is awake at last. Vitals are all good, but she seems confused.”
“Not surprising with the blow to the head.”
Rhonda squinted past the rotund, elderly nurse to find that voice belonging to a young health care assistant with a shock of red hair, which reminded her of her maid Miriam back home.
Home.
The thought tore her heart in two, and the young woman’s smile faltered when Rhonda started to cry.
“Oh, duck, don’t upset yourself. We’ll soon have you right as rain. Don’t just stand there gawping at her, Betsy. Go, fetch the doctor. If she doesn’t stop crying we might need him to prescribe a sedative.”
Rhonda yanked her mask off and despite the immediate waves of nausea assaulting her system struggled to sit up.
“No sedative. I need a phone. I need Drorgan, dammit. I want Lord Drorgan.”
“There now, like I said we’ll take care of you, my lovely. Ah, here is the good doctor now.”
Rhonda pushed the nurse’s arm away and tried her best to concentrate on what she was saying to the newly arrived doctor.
Words like “confused” and “delusional” reached her ears, and seeing the grey haired, bespectacled man consult her chart and nod was the last straw.
“I’m not fucking delusional. I hit my head, that’s all, and my hearing works perfectly well. Give me a damn phone so that I can—I can…” She ran out of steam, because, really who would she phone? She had no idea what year it was, let alone what day, and it wasn’t as though she had Drorgan’s number. That was if he was even still alive. He’d said dragons lived for centuries, but how long had he been alive already? And what about Geva, Magda, Eugene, Miriam, all the other people she had grown to love like family?
“I will gladly give you a phone, once I’ve established that you are okay. First things first, can you tell me your name?” Dr. O’Byrne grasped her wrist as he said that, and Rhonda tried her best to calm her racing heart. They had clearly pegged as her as some form of lunatic, and it wouldn’t do to give them more ammunition.
So instead of yanking her arm away from him, she settled for glaring at him.
“Of course I know my name. I’m Rhonda Butterbaugh.”
Dr. O’Byrne smiled at her.
“Very well. Follow my finger.”
He let go of her hand, shined an annoying little flash into her eyes, and Rhonda did her best to comply. She must have passed that test, because he nodded again and scribbled something else into her notes.
“So far so good. Tell me what year it is, would you Ms. Butterbaugh, and is there anyone we can call for you? Next of kin?”
“Err…” Rhonda stalled for time, and when his eyebrows rose again, she settled for answering the easier question.
“I don’t have a next of kin. There’s just me.” Her voice broke on the last words, as the truth hit her in the gut and made breathing difficult. She truly was alone in this time. Something that had never bothered her that much before, but after having been part of that close knit community at Castle Drorgan for the last six months, the thought of being alone again was terrifying.
And that was without the added trauma of having lost the love of her life. There would never be another man for her, as long as she lived, she knew that.
“There, now, do not upset yourself, Ms. Butterbaugh. Surely there is someone we can call for you? A neighbor, friend?”
When she proceeded to shake her head at him, he frowned and consulted her notes again.
“It says here you were brought in medieval dress and were murmuring about Drorgan.”
Her head snapped up, and she winced at the sharp pain assaulting her temples.
Dr. O’Byrne smiled at her, and addressed the nurse.
“Up her pain medication at the next round, she—”
“No, no more drugs.” His eyebrows rose at her in
terruption. “I’m fine, it’s just a headache. I can deal with it. I’m confused enough without…” She slammed her lips shut, afraid she had said too much, but the good doctor just smiled at her.
“Some confusion is normal. You gave yourself a pretty bad concussion in your tumble down the hill. We originally assumed you must be one of the guests staying at Castle Drorgan for their medieval event, but when we made enquiries, they didn’t seem to be missing anyone. Of course we didn’t know your name then.”
Rhonda’s heart beat faster again, and she couldn’t keep her excitement out of her voice.
“Castle Drorgan still stands?”
“Of course it does, it is one of our major tourist attractions, and since the Drorgan Corporation has refurbished it and opened its doors as a five star hotel, even more so. A great boon to the local economy I have to say.”
Dr. O’Byrne regarded her thoughtfully over the rim of his spectacles, and she forced a smile on her face.
“Yes, of course. I remember now.” Lying through one’s teeth didn’t come as easily as she would have hoped, especially when your every facial expression was under scrutiny. Where was a laptop when you needed it? She needed to get her facts straight, before she put her foot in it.
“So, you were staying at the Castle then?” Dr. O’Byrne asked, and Rhonda decided to settle for a version of the truth.
“I must have been. I can’t actually remember the details.”
“Hmm, partial amnesia is not uncommon. We’ll make enquiries again, with your name this time. I do quite like a mystery, and you, Ms. Butterbaugh, are proving to be a very interesting one.”
He wrote in her notes again, clipped them back to the bottom of her bed, and having used the hand gel, waved an adieu.
“You relax now. If your vitals stay strong, you should be able to be discharged later on this afternoon, once we know where to send you to, of course.”
Something about the way he said that made a shiver of apprehension crawl down her spine.
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