The Goddess of the Underworld: The Chronicles of Arianthem VIII
Page 20
This thought comforted Raine. “How long have you been awake?”
“A few hours. I wanted you to rest.” The golden eyes flicked upward to the cave opening and the fading light beyond, then to the lengthening shadows around them. “You’re going to need it for what happens next.”
The teasing tone brought Raine upright in the bed. “What happens next?”
“Hmm, you should probably go stand over there before the sun goes down.”
“What?” Raine asked in bemusement, but Weynild only laughed and waved her hand. “Go over there.”
Raine grinned and complied. Her love was positively playful right now, so Raine stood where Weynild directed her, the dragon content to lounge in bed and admire the naked form in the fading light.
“What is happening to me?”
“Hmm,” Weynild said noncommittally
Raine looked down at her body. Having been entirely immune to magic her entire life, she had never experienced what she was feeling now. Her shape was shifting, her limbs transforming, her height increasing, and her very form transitioning into something very, very different. Bones stretched, tendons elongated, organs rearranged, and not a bit of it was painful, just fascinating, as was the end result.
Raine stared at herself in delight. “I’m a dragon!”
“Yes, my love,” Weynild said, transforming into her own natural form. “You’re a dragon.”
“I’m a dragon!” Raine repeated. She was ecstatic. The possibilities were endless. She braced herself, then blew out a stream of fire that did not impress Weynild, and only slightly singed the bedding. “I can breathe fire,” Raine said excitedly. She flapped her wings. “I can fly—”
“Yes,” Weynild said drily, interrupting her. “Among other things.”
“What—-?” Raine began, then caught the look from her lover, the one that was unmistakable in all her forms. “Oh,” Raine said as her eyes turned dark violet, a color Weynild thought was fetching on a dragon and matched the deep purple of her scales.
Raine compared herself to Weynild. “Wait a minute,” she said in dismay, “why am I so small?”
“Male dragons are generally smaller than female dragons,” Weynild said, her tone even drier.
The violet eyes blinked at this revelation, and the purple wings gave an involuntary little flutter.
“You mean, I get to be the boy?”
“Yes, my love,” Weynild said patiently. “You get to be the boy.”
Epilogue 1
A dark figure moved through the halls of Ásgarðr, one whom all avoided if possible. Hel entered Sjöfn’s chambers without being bidden to enter, and found the woman seated before her mirror brushing her long blonde hair. As Hel expected, Sjöfn looked at her unbidden entrance angrily, but did not say anything. She simply continued brushing her hair as Hel settled into the chair behind her, seemingly content to watch her perform her beauty regimen. At last, the Goddess of Love could stand it no longer and made eye contact with Hel in the mirror.
“What do you want, Hel?”
“Nothing,” Hel said, the mildness of her response as unnerving as her manner. “Nothing at all.”
“Then why are you here?”
The emerald eyes drifted around the room, examining the many beautiful artifacts, the vases filled with flowers, the lovely artwork and luxurious furniture. Although Sjöfn continued to brush her hair, Hel’s examination took just long enough to put her completely on edge.
“I have been wracking my brain,” Hel said, “trying to figure out why you and Tyr would seek to involve yourself in this matter,” Her overly casual tone set off all sorts of alarms in Sjöfn. “Why you would seek to insert yourself in my affairs.”
Sjöfn, said nothing, simply continued to brush her hair. But the brushing had slowed.
“And then it occurred to me,” Hel said, picking at the embroidery on her chair. “I remember a time, oh, some three hundred odd years ago. Many lingering glances between you and Tyr, whispered conversations, the grazing of hands, always just out of sight of your respective spouses.”
The brushing grew even slower.
“And then something else occurred to me.”
Hel’s mock bewilderment was wearing on her. Sjöfn stopped and set the brush on the table in front of her.
“What if?” Hel said, pausing for dramatic effect. “What if you and Tyr sparked a little something to life in your indiscretion?” Hel’s mock bewilderment turned to mock horror. “Oh, I know how Tyr would react, so brutally pragmatic. He would want you to rid yourself of the evidence of your infidelity.”
Sjöfn’s jaw worked, but she said nothing, staring at the table in front of her.
“But you,” Hel breathed out, pretending both pity and commiseration, “you would never be able to do such a thing. So soft-hearted.” Hel took a moment to seemingly contemplate this impossible situation. “You would never be able to extinguish that light.”
Sjöfn remained silent.
“So what if,” Hel said slowly, “what if, instead, you sent that little spark to the mortal realm? To a couple incapable of having a child.” Hel paused, reveling in her hypothesis and its conclusion. “To a couple who just happened to be the very epitome of Love and War.”
It was enough for Sjöfn. Her eyes flickered upward to the Goddess of the Underworld and her tone was bitter. “What do you want, Hel?”
Hel held Sjöfn’s gaze in the mirror, a smile playing about her lips.
“As I said before, nothing.”
Hel’s eyes and her tone hardened and she now made herself very clear. “This is not over. It is only just beginning, and in the future, I expect that you will not interfere.”
She stood, and the Goddess of the Underworld gave the Goddess of Love one last volcanic look.
“In other words,” Hel said, “I expect you to do—nothing.”
Epilogue 2
Bruises covered Raine from one end of her body to the other, but every one of them had been gloriously acquired. She had been a dragon from sunset to sunset, a full night and day, and although she had flown and breathed fire, most of it had been spent mounting an insatiable fiery red dragon.
Although, Raine mused, Weynild hardly looked dissatisfied lying on her back in her human form in the great nest. In fact, she was not certain she had ever seen her love so completely sated. The golden eyes flicked over the bruises, taking inventory of the damage. One particularly large bruise on Raine’s thigh caught her attention.
“I think I may have fractured your leg.”
Raine shrugged. “It was well-worth it. Although it seems a bit perilous for the male dragon.”
“The mortality rate is dangerously high,” Weynild said, “you are far more hardy than most.” She leaned to kiss the bruise nearest her.
Raine lay back down, content to stare upward at the hole in the ceiling of the cave, at the true stars of Arianthem. But her thoughts kept returning to the last few hours.
“By the gods, that was epic,” she murmured, then grinned. “So that was your greatest heart’s desire?”
“What?” Weynild said, surprised. “No, of course not, that was just means to an end.”
“Means to an end?” Raine said, rolling over onto her side and leaning on her elbow. “What in the world could be better than—”
Suddenly, a multitude of things impressed themselves upon Raine. Weynild’s deep contentment, the soft glow in her golden eyes, the way she rested her hand so protectively on her stomach.
“Wait,” Raine said with incredulity. “Do you mean—?”
Weynild waited patiently for her to get a sentence out.
“You are—?”
Weynild still waited patiently.
“I mean, we are—?”
Weynild finally had mercy on her joyous companion.
“Yes, my lov
e, we are.”
Also from Samantha Sabian
THE DRAGON’S LOVER
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM I
THE SJÖFN ACADEMY
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM II
THE RUNNER THIEF
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM III
THE RIVAL’S CONCORD
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM IV
THE DRAGON’S ALLIANCE
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM V
THE SHADOW GAMES
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM VI
THE DRAGON’S WAR
CHRONICLES OF ARIANTHEM VII
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