The Twin Dragons: Book III in the Elementals Series

by Marisol Logan

  “Your Majesty,” Strelzar grinned slyly as he bowed to Browan, “please, you flatter me, when I have only come as a humble servant to Lady Veria.”

  “Commander,” Veria corrected. “And you are not going to be anyone's humble servant, Strelzar, because you are incapable of humility.”

  “Well,” he chortled, letting his lip curl knavishly, “you have got me there.”

  The other man, who Veria had forgotten about in her shock to see Strelzar, quietly and slowly moved toward her, as well. As he moved closer, she recognized that sad face framed in white whiskers. It was Virro Ladny.

  He, too, reached out and took her hands, but did not kiss them, just squeezed them and nodded at her in silence.

  “This one never talks,” Strelzar said, gesturing to Virro.

  “Be quiet, Strelzar,” Virro muttered, and Veria giggled.

  “I didn't think anyone would respond,” Veria said to them both.

  “You think the Ageless Council would miss out on the reinstatement of hard elementals?” Strelzar postulated. “Some of the younger Magers don't even know a life with them, but we remember.”

  “Then where are Daloes? Ellory?” Veria asked.

  Strelzar shrugged. “Earth Magers are stubborn. Your guess is as good as mine, since you are one of them,” he said with a hint of disdain.

  She furrowed her eyes at him, and he furrowed his back playfully.

  “Gentlemen,” Browan interrupted, “I regret that we shall have to call an end to this brief meeting, as Commander Laurelgate and I have an appointment. We are quite pleased that two Magers of your level of prestige have decided to join us on our venture. The old Elemental barracks have been vacant since my grandfather disbanded the Guard half a century ago, but they've been kept in good condition, and I have had the castle staff thoroughly prepare them for the New Guard. Please, choose rooms, get settled, and join us for dinner tonight at six o'clock. You are our guests of honer.”

  “Your Majesty,” Virro and Strelzar said simultaneously, Strelzar's voice sounding like the vocal equivalent of coacoa cake and Virro's hoarse and gravelly from lack of use.

  Browan took Veria's arm and escorted her out of the chamber. As soon as they were in the hallway he bent down and put his mouth near her ear.

  “They are the same age?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Pretty much, yes, give or take a couple years,” Veria tittered.

  “But—how?” Browan asked.

  Veria laughed. “If I knew, I would tell you.”

  They had gone to the infirmary, where Claryain removed the stitches, rather quickly and effortlessly. Before she had put her clothes back on, Browan had run his finger along the raised line where the gash, then the stitches, had been. Claryain had left the room at his command.

  “I am so sorry,” he whispered.

  “Stop it,” Veria said, lightly slapping him in his barreling upper arm. “I made the choice. You didn't ask me to. We have talked about this. No more guilt.”

  “That will be hard with this reminder,” he said.

  “How often are you going to see it?” Veria teased, stepping into her dress.

  He pulled her in slowly by her hips. “That's up to you,” he murmured, running his hands across her bare stomach before helping her pull up her dress, slowly buttoning it for her as they stared at each other, both breathing deeply and heavily.

  “Veria,” he purred her name.

  “Yes,” she whispered in response.

  “We should get you moved into the Elemental barracks,” he said softly. “There is a suite with an attached library and den for the Commander. If Strelzar hasn't taken it already.”

  Veria snapped out of the trance that Browan seemed to so easily cast on her.

  “Yes,” she said. “Of course. That sounds—that sounds wonderful. And how is your bed chamber coming along? The repairs?”

  “Should be done within the week.”

  “Great. That's great.”

  “You don't sound pleased,” he pointed out.

  “I am!” Veria lied, her own lie snapping like sparks in her ears. “I mean, no. It's good but I—”

  “I have gotten used to it, too,” he cut her off. “But we don't have a reason now. You're all healed. Cleared for duty, even. You don't need me anymore. Many rumors would start if we continued to share a bed. More than already have, I am sure.”

  Veria swallowed and nodded. “Of course. You are right.”

  Her heart flipped and stomach dropped. What was he saying? she thought nervously.

  “I sent for some of your items from Longberme a few days back, as you remember, and they are in the barracks ready for you to get moved in,” he said, seeming totally composed again, and not desirous of her at all.

  What had all the talk been about when she healed? Veria thought, a bit resentfully, as he led her to the opposite side of the castle to the barracks.

  As predicted, Strelzar was lounging in the indigo velvet chaise in the den of the Commander's suite.

  “Master Plazic,” Browan said, calmly and politely, but Strelzar interrupted.

  “Yes, this is the Commander suite,” he drawled. “I know. I just thought I'd welcome my new Commander, and catch up with her over some congratulatory meade I've had specially ordered from Dranspor. They turned my childhood home into a brewery! Can you imagine?” he threw his head back and laughed wildly. Veria had to suppress laughter, but one chuckle escaped through her nose as a snort.

  Browan pulled her aside a bit and dropped his voice. “Is this man safe, Veria?” he asked, face scrunched in concern,

  “No, not at all,” Veria said. “But I will be fine. He'd never do anything to me, and if he tried, I've already beat him in a duel once. I can certainly do it again. Now go, you have work to catch up on, I'm sure. See you at dinner?”

  “Of course,” he answered.

  “I look forward to it.” She turned him toward the door and tried to urge him through it. His eyes lingered on her tenderly for a few moments before he finally turned and left.

  As soon as he was gone, she shut the door and rounded on Strelzar.

  “Why the Fire are you here?!” she snapped.

  He jumped off of the lounge and stomped his foot as he yelled his response: “You think I'd just sit in that cave alone and let you have all the fun?”

  “I didn't think there was anything that would bring you out of that cave,” Veria retorted.

  “Well, then you are wrong again,” Strelzar said, his voice returning to its typical smooth, composed tone as he strode seductively toward her. “If there is anyone who could bring me out of that cave, it most certainly is you.”

  “Did you think I was going to jump back into bed with you if you came?” Veria scoffed.

  “I thought about it...” he purred, running a finger along her jaw, down her neck and across her collarbone. “But,” he sighed, “alas, I've been listening into that pretty, little head of yours, and you don't have a single desire for me. This is Tanisca's fault, isn't it? I shall have to have a chat with her, now that I'm out of the cave.”

  “Please don't have a chat with my mother,” Veria groaned. “I can only imagine what your idea of a chat with my mother implies.”

  Strelzar laughed.

  “Seriously, Strelzar,” Veria repeated, “why are you here?”

  “You managed to do the one thing I could never do,” he said. “What none of us could do. Not a single one of the most skilled and important Magers in modern history—not one of us could convince King Browan's grandfather or father to reinstate hard elementals. And believe me, we tried. And not a few months after you leave Plazic Peak and I get this?” He pulled a piece of parchment out of his shirt pocket. “This invitation to power?! Oh-ho, my little Birdie, you have been very busy since you left me, haven't you?” A sly, conspiratorial smile slid across his gorgeous lips.

  “It's not like that,” Veria said with disdain for his implication, and partial disdain for the fact that it wasn'
t like he had implied.

  “Have you slept with him?” he asked.

  “Oh, Fire! You are just like my mother!” Veria groaned in frustration.

  “Have you?” Strelzar pressed.

  “No.”

  “But he wants to?”

  Veria glared at him.

  “Of course he wants to. Who am I kidding? That's a ridiculous question.”

  “All I did was rescue him, as I'm sure you've heard,” Veria said. “That's it.”

  “You are a terrible liar,” Strelzar chuckled. “That's not it. You two are very close...and when you are together, the desire in your heads practically screams at me. It's annoying, really.”

  “Oh, well I'll try to tone it down for you,” Veria sneered.

  “Thank you,” he said and waltzed back to the lounge chair, draping himself across it and lifting his meade glass. “A toast.”

  “To what?” she asked, walking to the table with the meade and picking up the glass he had poured for her before her arrival.

  “To the two most powerful Magers in the world,” he smiled devilishly.

  “What about Virro?” Veria cocked her head.

  “Him?” Strelzar asked. “He just came because Daloes asked him to keep an eye on you.”

  Veria spit out the drink of meade she had just taken into her mouth.

  “You heard from Daloes?” she snapped.

  “No, I just said he did,” Strelzar corrected, slowly, like he were talking to a child. “Could you not waste anymore meade, please? This was very expensive, and the Elemental Guard is not going to pay as well as offering prestigious apprenticeships.”

  “Mine was free,” Veria said.

  “You were special,” Strelzar said, matter-of-factly. “Now, as I was saying: I haven't heard from Daloes, nor do I know his reasoning for not coming. If you want answers on that front, you can bother Old Windy. He is setting up a hammock in his room on the first floor. Strange old nut.”

  “You're all strange old nuts from what I can tell,” Veria said, rolling her eyes and draining her meade.

  Strelzar raised his glass and nodded his head. “And you'd do well to not forget it.”

  - VI-

  A week passed, and the day of the announcement ceremony that King Brown insisted on having had arrived. They had seen very little of each other, Veria and Strelzar spending most of their time sending out more recruitment letters to some of his former apprentices, and Strelzar pressing the importance of re-establishing the power of the Elemental Consortium as their main mission now that Veria had a position of influence.

  They had fiddled around on the training field the King had set up for them just to the North of the castle, in the Londesson Forest, Virro taking several days to warm back up to the prospect of using Wind Blades. And, even once he had, the sound made Veria jump every time it ripped through the air, and sliced through the leaves and trees, so he'd refrain again, or wait until he had the training ground to himself.

  Veria mostly tried to work on her overall stamina and agility, realizing she had taken a hit to her abdominal strength and range of motion with the injury. Strelzar would occasionally insist that she practice against swords and shields, and would run at her brandishing some metal weapon or another, and she'd easily send him flying backward by connecting to the metal's energy and pushing it away.

  Earlier that morning, she had come out to the grounds to see Strelzar spraying flames and splintering trees like mad around him, and had heard the volley of air blades, but didn't see Virro. He had gone invisible, and they were dueling, she realized. After several minutes, both collapsed to their knees with heaving breaths and laughter, looking completely unscathed. When she had approached, Strelzar had rolled onto his back with his hand on his sweaty chest, uttering through panting breaths and laughter: “The King has brought us a gift.”

  He had gestured behind him, and she saw it—a giant trunk, filled to the brim with...

  “Dragonskin,” she had uttered breathlessly.

  “That's not what Urtiz called it,” Virro had grumbled.

  “You dare argue with our Commander, Old Windy?” Strelzar had barked, jokingly. “He says he has more, by the way. I am supposed to tell you.”

  “Why didn't he tell me?”

  “Well, he can't even say your name without a thousand impure thoughts flooding his head, so I am guessing he doesn't trust what he'll do if he's around you,” Strelzar had chuckled.

  Veria had flushed, and looked away from Virro in embarrassment.

  “Oh, don't mind him,” Strelzar had said with a dismissive wave. “He doesn't talk to anyone besides us.”

  The conversation played over and over in Veria's head all day as she readied herself for the ceremony. Once again, she found herself primping to perfection for the King. She even pulled out the red dress he had gifted her nearly a month before for consideration, which Strelzar approved of as he walked in on her in her undergarments.

  “Very nice,” he purred. “Definitely wear that. Although, I prefer you in black, or my old shirts, but neither are appropriate for a ball.”

  “Do you knock?!” Veria snapped.

  “No, I do not,” he said plainly.

  “I don't want to wear this,” she sighed flinging it across her bed. “I don't want to clamor or fawn for him. He wants me, he can come get me. I'm not going to dress like a dainty queen at a ceremony that is celebrating my power.”

  “Ooh,” Strelzar tittered, draping himself across her bed with the dress, “I just got the shivers when you said power. So what are you going to wear?”

  “What would a female Mager in the Elemental Guard have worn?” she asked.

  “Um, I don't know if there were any...” Strelzar said slowly. Then he pulled himself off the bed and strode over to the wardrobe and pulled it open. “But the Commander would have worn this.” He flipped through her dresses and pulled out an old uniform.

  It was similar to a guard uniform, or a military uniform. Black pants, a scarlet vest, a thick, black undershirt, a large belt. This particular vest was adorned with medals and had clips on its shoulders that attached to a long red satin cape.

  “Strelzar,” Veria said.

  “Yes, my beautiful and wise Commander?” he responded, his voice heavily playful.

  “Have Virro send for a seamstress, immediately.”

  A seamstress arrived within the hour, and Veria instructed her to alter the Commander's uniform to fit her. Strelzar then went on to instruct the seamstress to make it very fitting, which resulted in a vest that practically looked like a corset and pants that were almost skin tight. After the seamstress left, he elaborately braided her hair and pulled out a pair of knee-high black leather boots from the wardrobe.

  “Standard issue?” he asked, holding them up.

  “I guess,” Veria shrugged.

  He dressed in the uniform he had found in his wardrobe in his room, and Virro did the same. Just before the three were about to make their way to the Regal Chamber for the announcement ceremony, Strelzar pulled Veria aside and opened the top three buttons of her blouse, exposing the tops of her breasts, which were being pushed to new heights by the tightness of the newly-fitted vest. Then he unfastened the top two of his with a smirk, looking down and admiring his toned chest.

  Veria sighed and shook her head.

  “I didn't come out of that cave for people to be looking at anyone besides the two of us,” he grinned. “We are the most powerful, yes, but I'll be swallowed by the Eternal Fire of the World if we aren't also the most attractive. I didn't let Urtiz practice that painful hydration cycle ritual on me for years just to let this go to waste.” He gestured to his face and body.

  “That's what happened! That's how you look so young?”

  “Yes, and he did it on himself, too,” Strelzar said, fiddling with her hair and pushing her breasts up. “In fact, I'm glad he's dead, because he was more attractive than me, and looked a full ten years younger.”

  “Strelzar!�
�� Virro snapped angrily.

  “Joking!” he yelled back. “Obviously, I was joking. I was closer to Urtiz than any of you were. You or Daloes, and certainly Ellory, that snobbish horse's ass.”

  Virro didn't seem to have any objection to Strelzar's maligning of Ellory Mielyr. Veria didn't have to stretch her imagination to fathom why, either. It seemed the entire Ageless Council disapproved of his trademark skill set.

  They were stopped at the back door to the Regal Chamber, where Browan had instructed them to be at five o'clock on the dot, by a guard who seemed to be waiting for a cue or a signal from the King, who had just begun to address the audience gathered in the Regal Chamber.

  “Thank you all for coming,” they heard him say loudly. “I know I was rather vague in my invitation, only designating this as an announcement ceremony, but not quite what I was announcing. And you lot came anyway, I can only guess for the feast and free drinks,” he laughed, and a ripple of laughter from the crowd followed his. Veria peeked into the room, and could only see a few people in the middle, right in front of the throne, on benches that had been brought into the chamber. “But I can guarantee you that it is a matter of no little importance.”

  His voice when he addressed his people was so different than any voice she'd ever heard in his presence. It was the same warm, deep tone, but it was confident and assured. With her, he had always been so vulnerable, so gentle, and at times, unsure of himself, it seemed. She preferred the side of him she knew, and reveled in the fact that maybe only she knew it.

  “Allow me to first tell you how we have come to this momentous occasion,” Browan continued. “A little over three weeks ago, an attempt was made on my life.” The crowd gasped and murmured and then hushed. “I was fortunate to come out of the attack unscathed, especially since the two assassins who were sent to kill me were Wind Magers trained in hard elementals.” The crowd erupted again—more gasps, more shock, more volume than the first round.

  “Had it not been for very fortunate circumstances,” Browan boomed over them, “I would be dead. The Kingdom of Londess would be in wonderful hands, I assure you, as you well know, my cousin, Lord Borlys of Dranspor would be my successor, and at least he has produced an heir...” Browan laughed again, but the crowd's response to his joke was a bit more constrained this time.