Master of Swords

by Angela Knight

  “But you did.” The dragon curled a lip. “You’re lying again, egg-sucker.”

  “No. I’m not. I suggested the ultimate sacrifice, the one that would liberate all the power he wanted. But Geirolf thought that target would be too risky.”

  The great tail lashed like a hungry cat’s. “And who was that?”

  “Who is the heart and soul of the Magekind, even in the minds of mortals who don’t even believe in him?” Richard grinned, watching that flash of interest intensify. “Whose abduction would leave the Magekind in a panic?” He paused a moment, letting the thought penetrate, letting the dragon draw its own conclusions. “Arthur, the Once and Future King.” He grinned savagely. “Or should I say—the Once and Never King.”

  Lark and Gawain returned home barely half an hour before the sun would force him into the Daysleep. He felt weary to the soul in that particular way he associated with a serious defeat.

  And Lark…

  She looked grief-dazed, more like a woman who’d lost a mother than a good friend. Yet despite her pain, she’d returned to Diera’s home and used her magic to ready the lovers’ bodies for their funeral the next night. Gawain had gone with her to lend emotional support and Kel’s help.

  It was as she wrapped the bodies in her magic that Lark sensed Diera’s gruesome injuries were all postmortem. She’d been dead before Edge even touched her.

  Gawain had instantly realized what happened; he’d seen it before. “Diera and Antonio must have Truebonded.”

  “And Antonio’s death killed her.” Lark had stared at him, puzzled. “But she didn’t mention they’d Truebonded when I saw her at the meeting. In fact, she was still denying she loved him.”

  Gawain shrugged. “They probably hadn’t done the ritual yet. It was likely impulse.” Brooding, he shrugged. “If not for the Truebond, Diera might have been able to fight Edge off.”

  “Or not. She loved Antonio. The shock of seeing him dead like that…” Lark shook her head. “I’m glad they did it. At least they were together.”

  Thinking about it now as he and Lark trudged up the stairs to the bedroom, Gawain found himself sharing her gratitude. Though Diera had never believed it, he’d loved her. Not enough to give her the Truebond link she wanted, but he had loved her.

  When she’d found Antonio, he’d been happy for her, had hoped they could finally be friends again.

  Edge had destroyed it all like a heedless toddler in a temper fit.

  And the little bastard could not have hurt his father more if he’d cut out Bors’s heart instead. Gawain had seen men look less devastated on the way to the executioner’s block.

  “Think Morgana and Gwen will have any luck?” Lark asked him as they walked into his bedroom.

  Since the men had no choice except to sleep, Morgana had announced her intention to talk to Soren that morning. Guinevere intended to request an audience with the Sidhe king, Llyr Galatyn. Galatyn was the Heir to Heroes, with a special magical connection to Cachamwri, the dragon god. Perhaps he’d be able to find out something if Soren couldn’t help.

  “It’s hard to tell. Neither the Dragonkind nor their god is known for being cooperative.”

  “Good point.” Lark grimaced and banished her armor with a flick of the fingers.

  Gawain blinked. She’d replaced it with a white cotton sleep shirt that seemed to swallow her slim body. All she needed was a slogan across the front: “Keep off the Maja.”

  Then again, he was too exhausted to even think of making love himself. There’d been one too many battles tonight.

  With a sigh, Gawain shrugged off his scabbard, barely noticing as Kel replaced his armor with loose cotton pants. Instead of hanging the scabbard on the bedpost, he put it down on the floor. Considering Edge’s new talent for gating past Avalon’s wards, he wanted the sword in easy reach.

  As Lark gestured the lights off, he got in next to her and tugged her gently against him, wrapping her in his arms.

  With a muffled cry of grief, she turned and burrowed against him, her body shuddering as she wept.

  “I loved her, too.” He stroked Lark’s hair and kissed her forehead. “It wasn’t enough for her, but I did. She was warm and funny, and she never backed down.”

  “They were in love,” Lark said against his neck. “She was actually happy. And then that bastard took it all away.”

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  Her arms tightened around his waist. “I know.”

  Gawain woke before Lark did, something which told him just how exhausted she must be. The Desire was awake and prowling, of course—it always was after a battle—but he had no intention of indulging it. Not after what she’d gone through last night.

  He’d just have to go hungry.

  Instead, he rolled over and propped his head on his forearm, the better to watch her as she slept. Now that the sun had set, the bedroom’s magical shutters had opened, admitting a spill of moonlight to caress her cheek.

  Brooding, he studied her elegant fragility. She looked pale, her closed lashes long and dark against her cheeks.

  Was he going to fail her the way he had Diera?

  OK, enough of that, Kel said in their mental link. Pick me up. I want to talk to you.

  He supposed he needed to touch base with Arthur, Morgana, and Guinevere, find out if they’d made any progress during the day on tracking down Edge…

  Hey, you!

  …though if he hadn’t let the little fucker get the better of him, none of this would be necessary, and Diera would still be alive.

  All right, dammit, I’m coming to you.

  Gawain felt the covers tug across his hip as if something were pulling on them. With a sigh, he reached down to pick the sword up. Teeth snapped at his hand. He snatched back. “Hey! You said you wanted me to pick you up!”

  “By Cachamwri, I’m going to do it myself now.” The dragon sniffed. “I’ve decided I need the exercise.” With his ferocious pride, Kel often insisted on forcing his tiny, awkward metal body to do his bidding.

  Gawain lay back and waited, alert for any sign the dragon might lose his grip on the sheets and fall. It wouldn’t hurt him, but it would piss him off even more. Neither of them needed the frustration.

  A moment later, the dragon’s tiny head appeared over the side of the bed. His neck snaked out, and he bit down fiercely on a fold of sheet as he used claws and wings to drag himself the rest of the way onto the bed. Behind him, the sword blade dangled like some awkward tail. Gawain scooped the length of steel up and arranged it into its proper position. As soon as it was straight, the blade solidified. Kel sighed in relief.

  One of these days, I’m going to eat the egg-sucker who did this to me. Cannibalism was the most vile, insulting threat one dragon could make against another, implying as it did that the other was prey.

  Kel meant it.

  I’ll slice him up for you, Gawain thought with a black grin. We’ll have dragon steaks.

  Jeweled eyes gleamed. Even better, dice him into dragon stir-fry and cook him in my mother’s memory.

  Dragon burgers.

  There you go. We’ll invite the Majae and have a little cookout. Kel’s jaws gaped in a vicious grin. Edge can provide the appetizer.

  Gawain curled his lip. There’s not going to be enough left of the bastard when I get done with him.

  They lay silent for a long moment, each pondering his own bloodthirsty revenge. But after a moment, Gawain’s attention returned to Lark’s delicate little face.

  The dragon watched him. She may be young, but she fits your soul as none of the others ever did.

  Gawain blinked. Even Diera?

  Especially Diera. She was a lovely woman, but the two of you weren’t really in love. And deep down, you knew it, which was why you never wanted a Truebond with her.

  I only wish we’d been in time to save her. Five minutes sooner…

  The dragon gave him a sharp look. You know better than that. You’ve lived long enough to know that some th
ings can’t be done, no matter how powerful you are. And in this case, you literally could not have gotten there any faster than you did.

  I know that, and yet……Blaming yourself gives you the comfortable illusion of being in control.

  Gawain blinked at his friend. You know me entirely too well, don’t you?

  I should, after all these centuries. Now, what are you going to do about Lark?

  He had no idea.

  Lark strode down the marble corridor of Diera’s villa, her sword in her hand. She was alone this time. Alone in the chilly, ringing silence.

  She stopped, horror and dread creeping over her. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she heard a faint liquid sound. A suckling.

  Her hand began to sweat around the hilt of her sword. Her instincts shrieked at her to run, but she couldn’t. Diera and Antonio needed her.

  This time, she would be in time.

  Licking her dry lips, she forced her leaded feet to keep moving. The bedroom doors stood ajar. The liquid sound was louder now.

  She swallowed, then extended the blade of her sword and used it to nudge the door open. Stepping inside, Lark felt her eyes widen in surprise.

  Diera knelt before Antonio, suckling him.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” Lark stepped backward as her cheeks flamed hot. “I thought…”

  Antonio’s head slowly turned to look at her. His blue eyes were fixed and staring. Dead. Dead as his gray face. “Why didn’t you come in time?” His voice echoed, hollow and moaning. A red crack spread across his throat, widening. Blood spilled down his muscular torso as his head tumbled off his shoulders. It hit the carpeted floor with a wet thud.

  Slowly, so slowly, his body toppled, revealing the bloody, gaping hole in Diera’s chest.

  “Too late.” A tear rolled down the Maja’s dead, decaying cheek. “Always too late. I thought you were my friend.”

  Lark jolted up with a scream. Masculine arms snapped around her, and she fought them in instinctive panic.

  “Hey!” Gawain’s deep voice penetrated the mental fog. “It’s me! You’re having a nightmare.”

  Blinking, dazed, she quit flailing at him and let him gather her against his warm, strong chest. Images from the dream flickered through her mind. She had to swallow hard against her rising gorge.

  A big hand came to rest against her hair, gently stroking. “Want to talk about it?”

  Lark closed her eyes and shuddered. “Not really. It was just the same damned dream I had half a dozen times last night. Or today. Whatever.” She let her head rest against his brawny shoulder. He felt good, so warm and strong, just touching him freed something wound tight in her.

  Gawain lay back, pulling her over on top of him and curling his arms around her. Lark sighed, letting the comfort of his warmth roll over her. “How long have you been up?”

  He shrugged, his chest rising and falling under her cheek. “An hour or so.”

  Guilt stirred, and she lifted her head. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long. The funeral…”

  “…Isn’t for another couple of hours. Everybody’s been busy trying to get the Dragonkind to believe one of their own was involved in the murders.”

  Lark stared at him. “But Edge was using Dragon magic. I could sense it.”

  A muscle flexed in Gawain’s jaw. “The Dragon Lords have flatly denied any of their people would have anything to do with a Dark One’s spawn.”

  Kel’s grumble emerged from the sheets. “Basically, it’s a variation on the same song and dance they’ve given us about the dragon who trapped me.” He raised his voice in a mocking singsong. “‘It was probably a human magician, Kel. That’s what happens when you associate with humans.’ Like I don’t know dragon magic when I feel it.”

  Lark thumbed the sleep out of her eyes. “Why are they so blind about this?”

  “Because it suits them.” The sword made a low growling sound. “You know, I think I’ll go work on a locator spell. I’d really love to confront those idiots with proof they can’t deny their way around.”

  The sword went still, the way he did when he slept. This time though, Lark could sense magic building around him like an electrical field, almost crackling with his fierce concentration.

  Gawain rolled over to pick him up and return him to the scabbard lying beside the bed. “Well, that’ll keep him occupied until it’s time for the service. When Kel latches onto a problem, he never lets go.” He sighed. “Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps him sane.”

  “I’ve wondered about that.” Lark sat up against the headboard. “I can’t even imagine what it would be like being trapped like that. I don’t think I’d be able to hold on.”

  “If it wasn’t for our mental link, I’m not sure Kel would have made it either.” Gawain extended his powerful arms in a broad stretch before settling back down again. “As it is, he experiences life through my senses. It was really rough for him before we established the link.”

  Lark watched him, admiring the ripple and play of tanned muscle as he moved. “How do you go about Truebonding with a dragon?”

  A corner of his lip twitched up. “It’s not exactly a Truebond. For one thing, Truebonds are sexual. I may have an interesting reputation, but I assure you, I ain’t banging my sword.”

  She winced. “God, the mental image that leaped to mind…”

  Gawain laughed. “Imagine how I feel.”

  “Actually, I’ve got a pretty good idea how you feel.” She said it without thinking, the sort of automatic flirtation that felt natural with Gawain.

  The smile froze on her lips as she remembered Diera. How could she joke at a time like this?

  Reading her stricken gaze, Gawain cupped her cheekbone. “You know what Diera would tell you right now?”

  Lark could almost hear her friend’s voice. Being alive isn’t a betrayal. Being afraid to live is. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” She sighed. “I’m glad she found Antonio. I hope they’d made love all night long.”

  “There’s something to be said for seizing every chance you get. Fewer regrets that way.”

  For a long moment they went silent, each lost in memory.

  Despite her emotional scars, Diera had found the courage to reach for happiness with Antonio. And maybe, Lark thought suddenly, it was time she did the same.

  She knew better than to believe Gawain would ever Truebond with her—she wasn’t even sure she wanted to—but they could make the most of the time they had.

  Lark looked up into his handsome face and let the need show in her eyes. “I know if it was me, I’d rather remember making love to you.”

  He went very still. Then he visibly reined in his leaping hunger and eased back. “Might be better if you didn’t say that kind of thing to me right now. After last night’s fight…”

  “Maybe I need you as much as you need me. Maybe I need to forget.”

  She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He took a deep breath and searched her face. “Are you sure about that?” Despite his obvious attempt at control, something feral showed on his face.

  Need, wild and reckless, rose in her. A need to forget her guilt and grief, to celebrate being alive. To be in control, when it seemed she’d been in control of so little for so long. “I’m sure.”

  He started to reach for her. She slapped a hand in the middle of his chest. “Not so fast.”

  For a moment, the Desire glared, frustrated, out of his eyes before he yanked it into submission. He eased back. “It’s your call, sweetheart. You’re in control.”

  Control. Yeah, that’s exactly what she wanted. Hungrily, she eyed his handsome face. “You know, I think it’s time you were on the receiving end.”

  He lifted a blond brow, warily interested. “What do you have in mind?”

  “You. All tied up.” She gave him a hot smile of raw anticipation. “At my mercy.”

  “When you say tied up, are we talking silk scarves or…?”

  “Magic.” Lark grinned. “
Like I said, I want you at my mercy.” He could probably snap solid steel shackles like wet pasta. Anything less than a spell wouldn’t hold him.

  Gawain swallowed, his expression a blend of unease and intrigue. “That’s what I thought.”

  She realized she was enjoying this. “The question is, do you have the guts to do it?”

  Green eyes narrowed. “I assure you, my guts are not in question.”

  “That’s just what I wanted to hear.” Lark flicked her fingers and cast the spell.

  It felt as if something clamped around Gawain’s wrists and ankles and jerked them spread-eagle. “Whoa!”

  Sitting up on the bed, her breasts thrust out beneath that white cotton shirt, Lark gave him the kind of smile a cat gave a caged canary. “A little disconcerting?”

  Gawain pulled at his right wrist. Though it didn’t seem bound to anything, it wouldn’t budge. “A bit.”

  She shuttered those hot chocolate eyes and crawled up his body to lay down at his side, one elbow braced on the mattress. “It can be intimidating, being held like that, knowing you can’t escape.”

  He met her gaze steadily. “Depends on whether the one doing the holding is trustworthy.”

  “That’s the whole question, isn’t it?” A long forefinger traced over his nipple. Hot, flickering sensations trailed it, so fast he could barely process them all—the stroke of a tongue, a quick pinch, teeth scraping gently. And over it all, he could sense the tingling rise of her power.

  Gawain caught his breath. “You’re…using magic.”

  “Ummm hmmm.” The finger slid across his chest, circled the other nipple in a kaleidoscope of sensation. Even that small magical contact brought him arching off the bed.

  “Dirty pool.” He gasped it, barely able to catch his breath.

  She grinned wickedly. “Want me to stop?”

  “Hell, no!”

  “That’s what I thought.” She started touching him. Everywhere. Light little brushes of her fingertips—his collarbone, the top of one thigh, his knee, his biceps. And wherever those long nails moved, starbursts of delight trailed until it was all he could do not to writhe.