“No, the shaman is dead, and I believe the team that infiltrated the castle with him is too.” Sardelle shook her head slowly, her gaze locked on the burning ship. “So many people killed, and for what?”
“My father said there were rewards out there for the dragon blood,” Cas said. “One for its acquisition and another for its destruction. Someone must have decided the latter was easier to accomplish.”
“Seven gods.” Tolemek rubbed his face, thinking of all the formulas he’d crafted using it. Most had been designed to harm dragons, but there had been the potential to do much, much more.
“I guess nobody’s going to turn it into a super weapon now,” Cas said.
Tolemek hadn’t even wanted to do that. He’d just found it an incredible substance, an energy source that could be magically programmed with simple commands.
“Not unless Bhrava Saruth volunteers to donate some of his own,” Cas added.
Tolemek shook his head, having a hard time imagining Bhrava Saruth allowing a needle between his scales to draw out his divine blood. And he already knew Phelistoth resented that the Cofah scientists had taken his blood while he’d been unconscious. He had already stated he would never allow such a thing again.
“We may simply have to go forward without it,” Tolemek said. “And hope no more enemy dragons come to visit us, because I hadn’t had time to make much more of the acid I crafted from the original stuff, acid that can eat through dragon scales.”
“Let us hope Bhrava Saruth’s presence in the city keeps other dragons away.” Sardelle patted Tolemek on the back and rose to her feet. “I need to do a little more work on you later, but the worst has been healed. I’m going down there to help. There are injured people still alive on that ironclad.”
She picked her way up the hillside, using the glow of her soulblade to light the way.
Tolemek sighed and leaned against Cas, gazing down as the flames continued to burn on the sinking ship. These weren’t the lights he had expected to watch tonight, but at least it should mean that nobody else would attempt to break into the castle anytime soon.
“Maybe I’ll spend a little less time working going forward,” Tolemek said.
“Have you found your assistant?”
“Not yet. But I’d like to be home more often to spend more time with you.”
“I’d like that. I’d hate to go shopping for wedding presents alone.”
“Then again, I do have a lot of work to do to get the lab fixed up again…”
She poked an elbow into his ribs. “You’re not getting out of shopping with me.”
He sighed and hugged her close, wishing they were gazing out on the stars and the city lights, not a burning ship and a burning cannery. He hoped that the future would be more peaceful than the last week—than the last year. At least for a while.
19
The early afternoon sun gleamed on the calm waves lapping at the hull of the yacht, the yacht taking the wedding party to the newly named Temple Island. Ridge smirked, thinking of Bhrava Saruth’s suggestions for names. Divine Destination. Palace of the God. The Dragon God’s Sublime Residence. And the eponymous Bhrava Saruth Isle.
“Does that smirk mean you approve of our transportation?” Sardelle linked arms with him as she joined him at the railing near the bow of the yacht. She was even more beautiful than usual with carved bone clips holding her hair back from her face, her blue eyes almost matching the clear sky, and an elegant orange—or saffron, as Lilah had corrected him—dress that reminded him of autumn foliage and seemed a nod to the end of summer. “Or are you having irreverent thoughts?”
“You know me well, and you can read my mind. What do you think?”
“Irreverence. Even though I’m not attempting to read your thoughts right now.”
“It’s not really necessary, is it? I’m an open flight manual.” Ridge patted her arm with his free hand.
“I certainly approve of our transportation. It was considerate of Angulus to let us use his yacht for this short trip. I must say, private sailing vessels have improved vastly since my day.”
“Are you referring to the lavatory facilities?” He grinned, thinking of their recent discussion on modern conveniences, particularly indoor plumbing.
“Not specifically, but I assume they’re wonderful. Did you know there are stabilizers built into the yacht to make the ride less bumpy on days when the waters are rough?”
“Fortunately, there’s no need for them today.” Ridge waved toward the clear blue sky. “It was kind of the gods—the real ones—to grant us good weather for the wedding.”
That was never a guarantee along this section of the coast in Iskandia. That morning, a dense fog had socked in the city, and Ridge had worried it might turn into rain clouds, despite Phelistoth’s promise that the sun was out above it. The dragon had been busy chugging coffee at the house, not flying high to personally check on meteorological events.
“Yes, and maybe with the dragon blood gone, nobody will have a reason to come looking for it, and the gods—and the Cofah—will grant us some peace for the next year. Or twenty.” Sardelle rested a hand on her stomach.
Ridge assumed it would be some months before signs of the pregnancy were evident, but he smiled, already wondering what their child would be like.
“Peace for a while wouldn’t be bad.” He thought of Tolemek’s question about what Ridge would actually do with himself if peace came to Iskandia. Ridge didn’t truly wish to make soap or candles. But he could understand why Sardelle would want an uneventful future for the raising of their child. Or children? Would she want to have more than one? Ridge had lamented at times that he’d been an only child, especially since it hadn’t always been safe in his neighborhood to go out and find playmates. He had always been delighted when the whole family had gotten together, giving him the chance to romp around with his cousins. “Though a pirate attack now and then would be all right. My pilots need more than practice maneuvers to stay at peak performance.”
“Your pilots.”
“Yes. I get plenty of practice doing my job of sitting at a desk and signing papers.”
“How many times have you actually sat at your desk this past month? Between Tolemek’s kidnapping, the dragon-blood incidents, and the building of the temple, I know you haven’t been in your office very often.”
“Enough to keep my penmanship skills honed.” Ridge mimicked writing in the air in front of them. “My name is long. It takes regular practice to be able to sign it.”
“I’ve seen your signature, Ridge. It’s a small R, a couple of bumps, and a large Z.”
“But the Z has a little flourish. That adds to the difficulty level.”
She shook her head but shifted to kiss him, so she couldn’t have been too disappointed by his handwriting efforts.
“Aren’t you supposed to wait until the priest waves his hands over your head to do that?” came a familiar grumble from behind them.
“Therrik.” Ridge reluctantly released Sardelle and turned to face him, hoping Cousin Lilah would be with him. Alas, she was at another railing, chatting with Lieutenant Ahn and Tolemek about something. “How’d you get on this yacht? The regular guests are supposed to be on the ferries.”
He waved toward the ships sailing out of the harbor behind the king’s yacht, far more people than he had expected packing the decks. What if there wasn’t enough cake for all those he had promised a slice to? He was positive he hadn’t invited so many people, even allowing for the extra blank invitations he’d given to General Ort’s daughter, Lieutenant Pimples, and Captain Kaika. Maybe someone had forged some invitations, though it was puzzling to imagine someone bothering. Unless they were dying to attend the unveiling of the structure on Temple Island.
Given the size of the structure, Ridge was surprised it wasn’t visible from the capital. If only those pesky cliffs didn’t get in the way…
Therrik lifted his chin. “You know there’s nothing regular about me, Zirkander
.”
“I hope that statement doesn’t relate to your latrine habits.”
Sardelle swatted Ridge.
Therrik’s eyes narrowed. “I miss the days when we were the same rank so I could shove you up against walls and mash your windpipe.”
“You weren’t supposed to do that when we were the same rank, either.”
“Are you sure? It seemed right.”
“Positive.”
Therrik glanced down at a bracer on Ridge’s wrist. “That doesn’t look regulation.”
Ridge wore his full dress uniform, including the pistol and saber, though he doubted he would have to stab or shoot anyone today. The army blue and gray didn’t nod to autumn the way Sardelle’s dress did, but she had promised him he was dashing in his uniform. The leather bracer did have a somewhat fall feel, and it was large enough that he’d been able to clasp it on the outside of his sleeve so people would see it.
“Sardelle gave that to me when she proposed. She made it. I forget the exact meaning, but I believe it means she’s claimed me as hers.” Ridge grinned at her.
“She proposed?” Therrik asked. “The man is supposed to propose.”
“Only if you’re a stuffy noble locked into a long-past century,” Ridge said.
“Don’t you know how to do anything right, Zirkander?”
“When someone deigns to marry you, you’re welcome to do it your way.”
Therrik looked over at Lilah, and Ridge winced. The last thing he’d wanted to do was put thoughts of marriage to his cousin in Therrik’s mind. He kept waiting for Lilah to come to her senses and find a nice, polite academic to date.
I believe she’s attracted to Therrik’s warrior physique, Sardelle said into his mind, a smile flirting with her lips. It can be hard to find sufficiently muscular academics.
I’m sure there must be some out there. She needs to look harder.
Lilah must have noticed Therrik’s attention because she smiled and waved at him across the deck. They held gazes for a long moment, ignoring the guests, servers, and royal bodyguards meandering between them.
Ridge wondered if he was too high ranking and mature to make a gagging noise.
I would, Jaxi spoke into his mind. They’re thinking about rutting. Make sure to stick your finger way back into your throat to ensure it sounds authentic.
Thank you for the tip.
You’re welcome.
“Aren’t you allowed to modify the dress code somewhat as a general?” Sardelle asked. “I could have sworn that when we ran into that General Brastbore in the citadel, he was wearing a hat from his favorite hook ball team, and he proclaimed he’d created Alternate Hat Day.”
“You can do days like that, yes. For your unit. Alas, Therrik isn’t in my unit, so I can’t make him wear bracers.” Ridge, suspecting Therrik was too busy fantasizing about Lilah to hear him, added, “Or bracelets. Or other jewelry. Too bad. Some nice heart-shaped earrings might soften his flinty appearance.”
“Doesn’t your yap ever stop, Zirkander?” Therrik turned back to him, a scowl replacing his moon eyes.
“Rarely. Was there a reason you came over to listen to it?”
“Yeah. To congratulate you on your wedding. If you had to marry a witch, you picked a good one.” He stuck out his hand.
Ridge glanced at Sardelle, hoping she wasn’t offended. Is he joking or being serious?
I believe he’s earnest in his congratulations. However dubious an addendum that was to them.
Huh.
“Figured I’d get that in before your legions of fans swarm you,” Therrik added, glancing toward the trailing ferries.
“I’m convinced those people are just coming for the free food and to see the dragon temple, but thank you.” Ridge clasped Therrik’s hand. By silent agreement, they kept the handshake very brief.
“I still can’t believe the king had a temple built for a dragon.” Therrik curled his lip. “As if we want those dragons to stick around.”
“A certain general talked me into the idea,” Angulus said, walking toward them.
Therrik’s eyebrows flew up, and he spun around and saluted. Ridge didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone sneak up on the colonel or catch him by surprise. It was probably just because so many people were wandering around on the yacht.
“This particular dragon has been helpful.” Angulus stopped in front of their group, two of his bodyguards alert just behind him.
Maybe it was Ridge’s imagination, but they seemed extra diligent ever since he and Angulus had been trapped in his office without any of them. The captain of the guard had been chagrined to learn that Angulus had been forced to wield a pickaxe to escape, even if Angulus himself had appeared proud of the blister the work had earned him.
“He healed a pilot,” Angulus added, “destroyed a shaman’s familiar, and offered me a secret spot in his temple as a place to store the dragon blood. A shame the cargo didn’t actually make it there.”
So that was where the blood had been heading. Huh.
“Yes, Sire,” Therrik said. “I’m sure I was mistaken. Building a, uh, structure for a dragon is perfectly reasonable.”
“Shouldn’t you yell a warning to the people behind you when you back up that quickly?” Ridge muttered.
Sardelle swatted him again. Angulus raised an eyebrow in his direction.
“You’re welcome to call it a residence, Therrik,” Angulus said. “That’s how Zirkander sold me on it.”
“How about a stable?” Therrik asked.
“Greetings, human friends,” came a cheerful voice as the human-formed Bhrava Saruth ambled toward them wearing his flowing kryka, a loose vest, and more necklaces than should be legal.
He spread his arms as he approached, displaying tufts of blond armpit hair. Something about a dragon’s transformation into a human being so complete that armpit hair was included flustered Ridge. Or maybe it was that Bhrava Saruth deemed clothing that revealed such hair appropriate for a wedding.
“Is this not a lovely day to celebrate the opening of my temple?” Bhrava Saruth lowered his arms. Thankfully. He smiled at them all, though his eyelids shivered as he met Therrik’s gaze, and Ridge suspected he’d heard—or sensed—that stable comment. “I have invited any humans who seek healing or blessing to come today.”
“During the wedding?” Angulus asked.
Ridge groaned silently and looked at Sardelle. Is that why all those people we don’t know are coming?
Hm. She tapped her chin and gazed back at the ferries. A few, perhaps. But my understanding is that your wedding has been deemed the social event of the season.
Our wedding. And that can’t be possible. Unless it’s been an extremely slow season.
You underestimate the interest the Iskandian people, especially those in the capital, have in you. They think of you as their hero. I understand there’s talk of a statue being erected, though oddly, Angulus hasn’t signed off on it yet.
A statue? That’s even crazier than a temple. I don’t want a statue. Ridge wouldn’t mind seeing a statue of one of the original models of fliers, perhaps with an educational plaque underneath, in a prominent location in the city—right now, people had to go to the flight museum to learn about the history of the craft—but definitely not one of him.
Statues aren’t about the person represented; they’re about the dreams and ideals of those who put them up.
Ridge made the face that comment deserved.
“I can do the blessings before the ceremony,” Bhrava Saruth said. “There will be festivities before my high priestess and her mate join, yes?”
Ridge didn’t know what to think when nobody batted an eye at the dragon’s reference to Sardelle as his high priestess. Even she seemed bland and almost accepting of the title these days.
“That will be an excellent time for people to come worship me and see my throne. Do you think they’re bringing offerings?” Bhrava Saruth rose on tiptoes to peer past Angulus’s shoulder and toward the ferries
.
“Throne?” Therrik asked.
Angulus dropped his face in his hand, maybe already regretting that he’d donated land for the temple. Residence. Stable.
“It is a marvelous temple, fully furnished with divinely approved—and dragon-sized—seating areas similar to nests.” Bhrava Saruth smiled at Ridge, probably reading his thoughts. “Though I do intend to take alternate forms when I bless my worshippers. This makes them less nervous.”
Ridge imagined a ferret on a throne rising on its hind legs and waving its paws as it offered blessings.
“I must go and prepare for the arrival of the guests.” Bhrava Saruth clapped his hands together, then leaped onto the railing, sprang away from the yacht, and switched into his dragon form while airborne. He flapped his wings and flew north faster than the ships were traveling, then banked and disappeared into the gap in the cliffs leading to his little cove.
“Your wedding is going to be weird, Zirkander,” Therrik said.
“Your bluntness refreshes like a spring… flood.”
“I’ll show you what a wedding is supposed to be like when I get married. Pardon me, Sire.” He bowed to Angulus, then headed over to Lilah.
“When?” Ridge gripped the railing for support. Therrik was assuming that would happen?
You seem to have put him in the mood for pledging his eternal bond—and virile manhood—to Lilah, Jaxi observed.
His virile what? He’s not going to propose to her now, is he? Ridge stepped away from the railing, barely aware that Angulus was talking.
Relax, hero. He’s just starting to think about how he might go about proposing. Doing it on a boat heading out to a fake god’s temple isn’t his idea of romantic.
I’m terrified to imagine what his idea of romantic is.
Yours was proposing from on top of a giant rock.
Crazy Canyon is known around the world for its natural sandstone arches. They’re geological marvels.
Uh huh. Trust me. Therrik can’t do any worse.
Angulus cleared his throat. “Zirkander, are you listening to me?”
Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8) Page 28
