Quinn and Tristan burst into the cornflower field behind Kellan’s house at the same time, narrowly avoiding being trampled by the stampeding beasts approaching from the opposite direction. Etana and Sheehan were there and Quinn jumped onto Etana’s back, racing towards Dragon’s Peak. Tristan, on Sheehan, was right beside her. She could hear Isaiah yelling, telling Camille she needed to stay, and the fainter cries of Camille’s vehement disagreement, but then they entered the trees and all she could hear was the thundering of the unicorn’s hooves beneath her and the distant howling of the wolf pack.
Quinn slid off Etana’s back as she reared up in the air. Quinn had brought her much closer to the mountain than before, and the mare quivered in distress at being this close to the dragons. Glancing up at the mist looming above her, Quinn shivered herself. She had barely survived her own encounter with the dragons so recently, and now a 15-year-old girl was up there, alone and completely unprepared for what she was walking into. The other creatures of Summerfeld were charming, or at the very least, placid enough to tolerate the Guardians, but the dragons were vicious and posed a great danger when the Guardians were in their territory. Tristan was already sprinting up the steep path and Quinn was torn between following him and waiting for Isaiah, who had dismounted and was now kneeling at the edge of Lake Avalon, calling for the merfolk. The merfolk might have seen Monique, and which direction she had headed in, but Quinn did not stay to find out. She made her decision and tore up the mountain after Tristan.
Quinn had been a Guardian a lot longer than Tristan and it didn’t take her long to catch up to him. She was fitter and stronger; years of training had given her amazing endurance and made her lethal in combat, but even she would not take on a dragon.
“Tristan!” she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. His eyes were frantic, darting everywhere.
“I have to find her Quinn!”
“Shhhhh!” she whispered urgently, “we will, but we have to be quiet.”
“Camille will never forgive me,” his face crumpled again and Quinn understood his fierce filial loyalty – she had felt exactly the same devotion for Avery.
“Monique is going to be fine,” she promised, just as Isaiah caught up with them.
“You two need to stay here, I’ll go up,” he instructed. Unsurprisingly, Tristan immediately started arguing, raucously.
“I have more experience with the dragons,” Isaiah rationalised, “you might just anger them and they will only become more agitated. Just give me half an hour... if I’m not back by then by all means continue with the search.” He didn’t need to add that if he didn’t return he would most likely be dead. Isaiah left then, with a cautionary look at Quinn, and she nodded her understanding. She needed to keep Tristan here.
Tristan didn’t give up easily, but eventually Quinn calmed him enough that he agreed to wait half an hour and not a moment longer. They stood in restless silence as the minutes ticked by. Tristan could not stay still and kept casting hopeful glances up the mountain at the slightest sound. Quinn wished she could offer words of comfort, but she had a terrible foreboding that things were going to end badly.
She saw Isaiah first. He came tearing through the mist above them, his white face a mask of shock. Tristan noticed him a second later and an anguished cry burst from his lips. Then Quinn heard the high-pitched screaming and her legs almost caved in beneath her.
“Tristan, no!” she yelled, reaching for him as he took off towards the sound, heading straight for Isaiah who was approaching from the opposite direction. Quinn watched him go, dazed for a second as something pricked at her conscience. As Isaiah got closer, she realised that his face, although shocked, was also expressing a different emotion... Wonder. The penny dropped in the same instant that Tristan spun on his heels, his face morphing from pure panic to shocked comprehension. Monique wasn’t screaming. She was laughing.
The dragon that swooped from the mist above their heads was the colour of burnt umber, with a pale plum underbelly. Quinn recognised the enormous massive beast as a Saurean – one of the least hostile species that dwelled on Dragon's Peak.
The logical part of her brain registered these facts as she watched the dragon soar above her, completing a full circle before flapping her enormous wings and heading back towards the mountain. The other part of her brain, which urged her to believe what she was seeing despite it being impossible, registered that Monique was riding on the Saurean’s back.
Chapter 26
As the first rays of the sun filtered softly through the glass window, Kellan heaved a sigh that the worst was over. He could hear Freya moving around in the bedroom, but she would not emerge until he called her, letting her know that it was safe. Quinn had not returned, and he hoped that Monique had been found, unharmed. He knew that Quinn would not have left him to deal with the wolves on his own if it weren’t important. It had been a long night and his body ached from sitting for so long, but he would rest soon.
“How do you feel,” Kellan asked gently, throwing a blanket over Rafe’s body as he lay shivering and sweating on the floor.
“I’m fine,” Rafe replied through clenched teeth. Nearby, Channon, who was also back in human form, whimpered pitifully. Rafe rolled onto his side, checking that she was all right, before he slumped onto his back again, pressing his hands over his eyes. Kellan left them while he made a pot of tea which would warm them from the inside and hopefully stop the shivering. The transformation wreaked havoc on their bodies for a few hours after resuming human form.
“Thank you,” Rafe croaked, lifting himself into a sitting position as Kellan handed him a steaming mug. Kellan passed a mug to Channon who seemed to be recovering faster than her mate.
“What are we going to do?” Channon sounded so defeatist and Kellan understood the predicament. Werewolves were not meant to be shut inside like domestic dogs. They needed to hunt during the full moon; they needed to run and to mate. It was their most primal instinct, and to deny it could have dire consequences. And yet, Caleb would kill Rafe if he ventured outside in wolf form.
“We have a month to think about it...” Kellan trailed off. As if the very thought had summoned him, the door burst open and the new Alpha stood before them, glaring down at Rafe with ill-concealed disdain. As his gaze moved to Channon, Kellan saw again the desire to dominate her reflected in his gold-flecked eyes.
“Now is not the time, Caleb,” Kellan said, but the angry young man ignored him, shouldering his way into the room. Kellan only noticed Cassandra when she barged in behind him.
Cassandra was an exotic-looking woman, with sallow olive skin and heavy-set, dark eyes. Her hair was cut in a short bob, with bangs hiding a long forehead. She looked both angry and satisfied, and the way she mirrored Caleb’s movements, and stayed as close to him as possible, hinted that perhaps she had finally gotten her way last night and mated with the new Alpha. She did not look happy that Caleb had come here, to the place where Channon was.
“I have come to issue a warning,” Caleb threatened Rafe, “you are no longer permitted in town.”
“You do not have the authority to ban him from the street,” Kellan protested, “you are not in wolf form now. This is a civilised community!” A half-snarl emanated from Caleb’s open mouth and Kellan stepped back as though he had been struck. No werewolf had ever challenged the Fae, not since the beginning of time. Kellan eyed his bow, resting in the corner of the room, but pushed the thought aside immediately. He could not harm one of the wards, regardless of his behaviour.
“Channon,” Caleb continued, heedless of Kellan’s words, “are you ready to join me?” Cassandra let out an inhuman sound, part-growl, part-whimper and her dark eyes narrowed at Channon.
“What does she matter to you?” she hissed.
“She is my rightful mate,” Caleb replied coldly and Cassandra’s eyes widened in shock. “You help pass the time, my young pup, but you are no match for an Alpha.”
“Enough!” Kellan roared, stepping forward to
comfort the young wolf. Cassandra pushed him away ungratefully. “You are new to Summerfeld,” Kellan continued, “and you have much to learn. The werewolves and the Fae have always been brethren – we are, after all, the only humanoid species that reside within the City. You won your pack’s loyalty when you defeated Rafe; there is no need for this feud to continue.”
“Channon?” Caleb barked. Kellan may as well have been speaking to himself for all the notice the Alpha took.
“Never,” Channon hissed, moving closer to Rafe.
“So be it,” Caleb smirked evilly. “You are both banished – do not let me catch either of you outside.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out. Cassandra threw Channon one last dark look, and then she followed him, slamming the door behind her.
“I’m going to take this to the council,” Kellan stepped towards the door, but Rafe moved to stand against it.
“This is not Guardian business,” he murmured.
“Threatening the lives of any of the Summerfeld wards is exactly Guardian business!”
“No,” Rafe shook his head, his gaze falling on Channon, who backed away, looking suddenly afraid. “This is my problem. And it ends now.”
“What do you presume to do, Rafe?’ Freya’s gentle voice carried over to them. Intuitively she approached Channon and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, eying Rafe meditatively. Kellan knew that look. Freya, while as peaceful as most Fae woman, also had a fiercely protective nature, and right now, she sensed Channon’s fear. She held herself upright, taller than Rafe, her rounded belly accentuated by the long dress she wore. Rafe dropped his eyes first.
“Did you hear all of it?” Kellan asked.
“Most,” Freya nodded. “It seems that we have a problem on our hands.”
“A problem?” Rafe gasped. “A problem? That’s what you call this? I think it’s slightly more than a problem. There’s only one solution... Channon, you must return to the pack.”
“I can’t!” Channon cried, her face crumpling. “I can’t be with that... that... monster! How can you ask that of me?”
“What makes you think I want that?” Rafe replied, his voice breaking. “Do you think I want to see my best friend... my wife, with that bastard? Of course I don’t! But we don’t have a choice. I won’t let you risk your life. Unhappy is better than dead!”
“And what will you do?” Freya interrupted.
“I’ll challenge him. He’s going to kill me anyway, I may as well go down fighting.”
Channon succumbed to her tears and slid to the floor in an inconsolable heap.
“You will lose,” Freya pointed out gently. She sensed that his cruelty toward his mate stemmed more from a deep need to keep her safe than any true anger at her actions.
“I know.” The reply was hollow. Raising his eyes back to meet Freya’s, he saw the kindness and the compassion reflected in them. “But there’s nothing else I can do.” His anguish was nothing in comparison to the shame. He had failed Channon – the person he loved most in this world. He had lost and condemned her to death, or a lifetime of servitude to a cruel, powerful wolf. He didn’t know if he could live with the failure.
“You are being a coward,” Freya murmured, as though she could read his thoughts. “Death is an easy alternative.” Lifting Channon by the arm, she placed both hands over her cheeks, “So are you,” she added, “I need to speak to you, in private.”
“I can’t do it,” Channon shook her head when Freya had finished outlining her plan. The two women sat in the small, modest bedroom, with the door closed so that the men wouldn’t overhear them.
“Channon, I know you don’t want to, but your actions are the reason that Rafe is in so much trouble. It is your law – a law that Rafe himself upheld as Alpha. You believed in it, then. By not returning to the pack, you are angering Caleb. I believe we are seeing the very worst of him because you are humiliating him in front of a pack he controls. He cannot allow it.”
“I don’t think we’ve seen the worst of him, yet,” Channon whispered, “or even half of what he is capable of. I’m afraid of him, Freya.”
“I understand. But he is a wolf, Channon, there is nothing to be afraid of. I have known wolves my whole life. Alphas are strong and relentless, yes, but they are also incredibly protective of their pack. You know that.” Channon nodded, but her eyes told a different story. “If you return, you will be safe; sheltered within the pack,” Freya continued. “You have a month before the next full moon to assess whether you feel your life is in danger. If you are still fearful by then, come and tell me. I will make sure you are kept here, safe from harm.”
“I don’t want you involved in this. Not in your condition...”
Freya laughed.
“I’m stronger than you think, young wolf.”
“I know. I’ve seen you with your bow.” Channon gave a watery smile. “What about Rafe? Even if I go back to the pack Caleb isn’t just going to let him go.”
“No,” Freya acknowledged, “but it will cool his heels for a time. We need breathing room to come up with a long-term solution. And I have a plan to keep Rafe out of harm’s way while accomplishing something far more important in the process.”
Channon followed her from the room and Freya gestured Rafe forward. She placed Channon’s small hand in his. “Stay here, comfort her. Your time together is precious.”
“Where are you going?” Kellan asked as his wife headed for the door.
“I have an idea,” Freya replied, consoling him with a small smile.
She returned after a short time.
“Monique is fine,” she announced as she stepped through the door. Kellan heaved a sigh of relief and even the wolves felt their hearts lift. “She’s a dragon rider,” Freya continued, and their eyes widened in surprise. “Although, if her mother has anything to do with it, she won’t be doing it again any time soon. Now,” she continued briskly, facing the wolves, “as to your predicament, I believe I have come up with a solution.”
Chapter 27
“How is it possible?” Tristan was still struggling to reconcile what he had seen last night with what he knew to be true. He, Quinn and Isaiah were standing in the cornflower field, having bid farewell to the unicorns that had brought them back. A few yards away Camille’s furious voice was taking an elated Monique to task.
“A dragon rider?’ Quinn interrupted, also looking to Isaiah for answers. She had heard of it before, decades ago, but she had never seen anything like it. Tristan, who had been a Guardian less than a tenth of the time she had, had not heard of it at all.
“Yes,” Isaiah watched Monique reverently. “She must be a descendant of Alain – he was the first dragon rider.” Alain, like Isaiah and Daniel, had been one of the original twelve Guardians.
“But... if she’s a descendant of Alain, then so is...” Quinn gaped at Tristan.
“Tristan,” Isaiah nodded, “yes, he must be.” Although the descendants of all Guardian families were kept track of, nobody remembered who was descended from whom. It was only important that the families of any living Guardians were traceable.
“Can you...?” Quinn raised her brow incredulously at Tristan.
“No,” he shook his head, “I’m pretty sure I can’t ride them. Not that I’ve ever been close enough to try – I generally run in the opposite direction when they start hurling fire at me.” Now that Monique was safe all the tension had left him. Quinn smiled, marvelling at his resilience and how quickly he had recovered. Tristan smiled back, and a moment passed between them that Quinn was not sure she entirely understood. Something flashed in his eyes, an emotion she had not seen in a very long time and certainly not directed at her – not since Avery had unwittingly come between them.
“A dragon will not breathe its fire at a rider,” Isaiah pointed out, which answered Quinn’s question. Tristan was no dragon rider.
“She’s letting her get into her stride,” Tristan mused, as the sound of Camille’s voice grew louder a
nd more agitated. “You’ve got to agree and apologise quickly or she gains momentum. I better go and save her,” he added, loping off in the direction of his niece and irate sister.
“The girl has the most natural affinity for our precious creatures of any Guardian I have ever seen,” Isaiah mused thoughtfully.
“What does it mean?” Quinn asked, sensing there was more to his words.
“Possibly that my time as a Guardian is coming to an end.” His answer was so candid that Quinn flinched.
“What?”
He turned to face her, his face perfectly tranquil.
“Amongst the Guardians there have always been those with a certain natural affinity – they find their place immediately – their niche, you could call it. Daniel and his Hunters were born to pursue the enemies of the wards, although Blair is more nurturing than most. Other Guardians serve only to protect. I have always been closest to the inhabitants of Summerfeld and they have trusted me above all others. Now it seems that Monique has surpassed me in that respect.” Quinn did not answer. The thought of the guardianship without Isaiah was too awful to bear thinking about.
“What am I, then?” she murmured, wondering about her own place within the Guardian council. Her guilt at leaving was, in this moment, stronger than ever before.
“You will find your niche, Quinn. You question and you challenge – more so than anyone ever has. You have lost your way and you have a great journey ahead of you, but I am confident that you will find your way back. I think you will bring about a great change.”
“What kind of change?”
“I have no idea,” he smiled, “but I sincerely hope that I am around to witness it.”
Slowly, they were eating away at her resolve, without even being aware of it. Quinn could feel her resistance crumbling, the lure of her Guardian life calling, almost too powerful to resist.
Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4 Page 17
