Blood of Stars and Gods (Stars and Souls Book 2)

by Melissa Petreshock

  Oliver escorts me to greet the odd former Lord Regent, and I hope someone informed him of the power shift. “Agtos, may I introduce Caitriona Mary Hayden, our North Star, less formally known to us as Cait.” I want to elbow Oliver in the side for that ridiculous introduction.

  “Hey there, Cait.” Agtos replies with a huge grin, the most perfect smile. He may be the size of a mythical giant compared to me, but he’s the damned friendliest giant possible.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I try not to stare at his chiseled chest and Greek god-like abs since he’s wearing his shirt unbuttoned. Casual doesn’t begin to describe this newly arrived dragon. Physically, he lacks nothing of my own dragons, but mentally … a tad insane? Slightly unhinged? Agtos makes Jai seem socially normal.

  “Great to finally meet the one I’ve been hearing about from like day one I’ve been around.” The dragon leans in and grabs me up in a one-armed hug, lifting me off the ground, squeezing the breath right out of me. “You’re just a doll. No wonder she picked you. Theo says you’re really something. So does Claaron.” He winks.

  “Oh, I can’t imagine what Snowflake says about me.”

  Agtos laughs, not a small, pleasant-company haha, but an honest, head-thrown-back, uproarious kind of laugh. “I’ve heard all about the nicknames. That’s awesome. Do I get one?” He’s a wide-eyed, grinning giant again as he asks, kind of bobbing his head as he talks, gesturing with his hands enough to make someone motion sick, and I wonder if he ever stays still.

  “I’m sure you will.” I’m not sure I want to tell Hippie Dragon that he’s Hippie Dragon until I find out if he knows he’s no longer Lord Regent.

  “Awesome,” he replies, nodding his head in a bouncy way. “That’s just awesome. I love it.”

  I glance back at Oliver, wanting to ask if dragons can get high on faery salt, and if it’s possible Agtos imbibes in such scandalous behaviors. He shakes his head with the slightest movement, and I’m sure he knows exactly what I wanted to know. “Agtos, Theo is inside. Did you wish to speak with him?” offers Oliver.

  “Oh, yeah. Gotta go pay my respects to the new Lord Regent and all, man.” I breathe a quiet sigh of relief to know this isn’t going to turn into another violent standoff between dragons. “He took longer than I expected, but it’s all good. We’re all good.”

  “We’re not all good, Agtos.” I don’t even know why I say it the way I do, but he’s too calm about everything while I’m still a wreck over my life being turned upside down. “I nearly died last night. Dante had to save me, and now I don’t remember anything about choosing Theo over him before. Do you think that’s all good? Do you think the other dragons think that’s all good?” My tone is a near growl, but he’s still smiling, head bobbing as if it’s loose on his neck.

  “You love Dante more than you did,” he says, shrugging, and I want to knock that loose head off his neck, only stopped by Oliver putting an arm around me, guiding us all toward the house. “It is all good, all part of the plan for you three, Cait. You gotta be close, work together, trust each other, solve problems. You know?”

  “No, Agtos. No, I don’t know. I don’t know how taking my life away and stuffing my head full of a fake life is all good. It all sounds insane to me.” And I’m nearly sure he’s insane too. I have no idea how a dragon like this ever became Lord Regent. Nothing about him screams True Alpha, and there’s simply no way a mere brush with death could do this. No. I think he belongs on the next surfboard out of here.

  Chapter 10

  *Theo*

  “A Blood Mage. Nothing about that found suitable concern in your mind, warranting informing Theo that to be the case?” Dante stands his ground, crossing his arms over his chest; hands clenched into fists. Were he still the violent monster of his past, I might consider it possible he would assault Agtos as his anger turns to fury. “Have you no genuine interest in the welfare of the North Star that you would flippantly consider explaining Valoin to be ‘an Oracle but not an Oracle’ as sufficient, knowing the inherent dangers the mere existence of a Blood Mage poses? I am quite honestly surprised you bothered to come. Isn’t it excellent surfing season on Avalon in November?” I cannot recall the last time I saw my friend seething with such rage.

  “Dude, chill.” Agtos brushes his hair back and sets his sunglasses atop his head. “Your mama’s right. You are so uptight, man.”

  I cast a glance toward Cait and see her mouth hanging; I have no doubt she finds Agtos far removed from expectations. Few truly understand the workings of an Oracle’s mind, certainly not me, though I have greater patience for developed eccentricities of Agtos than many others, having been with him when he brushed the danger of death. Somewhat greater patience. Jai stands at her side, stroking her arm as he does, sensitive to her distress, Oliver filling what should be my position beside Cait, a position I fear she no longer wishes me to hold. Ever.

  Our former Lord Regent shrugs, his hands and head moving as he speaks to the point of annoyance, given my mood. “Seriously. Jai and I, we got mad skills. That’s why I decided to drop in. Leave the Blood Mage to us. We’ll have it all figured out.” He turns and points to me. “Oh yeah, totally forgot … those nasty little buggers got a camp set up ‘bout a half mile southwest of the house. Like four kindells. Cake walk.”

  Falcon’s low growl disturbs the silence fallen over the kitchen, those gathered in disbelief of how casual Agtos can be, so removed from the countless wars many of us have seen over the millennia, though he has fought his share of battles, in his condition, long passed are the days his duty fell to the guardianship of wards. “Without the title of Lord Regent, you stand here as little more than a lunatic and a gypsy fortune-teller, as unacceptably irresponsible as the rest of this lot, allowing the near death of the North Star, lying and scheming behind her back.” His eyes flicker over Dante and I. “Entirely untrustworthy, you will surely guarantee her death before she sees the full transformation.”

  “Man, I suggest you dial it down a notch.” Agtos steps toward Falcon, and the tensions rise, no one moving, not a brother among us daring to breathe, the aggressive side of him, the true power possessed deep within him so rarely surfaces. “I’d hate to do it, but don’t think I won’t personally take you down a notch, Falcon.”

  A small gasp from Cait drives me to action, stepping between the two. “Enough.” With a growl and a hardened look at them both, I watch them back from a confrontation with the slightest step. “Agtos may no longer be Lord Regent, but I am, and I will not condone such pettiness amongst the brotherhood while there are serious matters beyond egos and pride to which we must attend. Falcon, join the others outside. Keep watch.”

  His red eyes bore into me, a deep guttural response rising in his throat before that dangerous gaze searches past me, and I have no need to look, no need to ask, to know Falcon meets Cait’s eyes. I sense her anxiety, not wishing to see more violence, dragon against dragon. “Of course. The threat nears. Someone must ensure Cait’s safety.” He regards me with narrowed eyes, but I swallow my own pride, my anger, and leave it be for now.

  Walking away, Falcon exchanges an inexplicable look with Cait, the hint of a grin twitching at his mouth as he leaves. I want to demand he reveal whatever secret thoughts or plans twist and whirl behind those eyes. “Perhaps I should go as well, Theo.” Oliver’s tone does not undermine my authority, though my brother has held such respect within our ranks, many could believe he is better suited for Lord Regent than I. “Intended or not, his attitude may tear at the cohesion of our brotherhood under the circumstances.”

  “Agreed.” I hold no fear Falcon could taint Clifford or Liam’s views of me, neither impressed by his willful ways. Corrin carries too much at stake in his service to Cait than to fall under such influence, but tension reigns in light of Cait’s memory loss, and aggression is a rather common trait among dragons. “See to it no trouble arises.”

  With them gone, Agtos claps me on the back too jovially. “Knew you’d be good at th
is, man. You got it all covered.”

  Turning on him, snarling, in his face, my threadbare patience snaps. “Covered? You believe I have this covered? Oracle or not, Agtos, your madness nearly destroyed our North Star.” My voice lowers, threatening, the lethality of my rage seeping into each word, my hand fisting around the collar of his shirt, pushing his back against the cabinets. “Destroyed our life.”

  He raises his hands in surrender. “Chill, dude. It’s all good.”

  Teeth clenched, I inhale sharply, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. “No. It is not all good. Truthfully, it is not good at all.” My tone becomes icy, knowing too well allowing emotions to slip through the cracks will only serve to open the floodgates of what I feel. I need to settle this matter, not kill our Oracle. “You will work with Jai. You will find out everything you can about this Blood Mage and Z’s plans.” I keep my eyes on his, hard, daring, not fearing his size, his strength. Rage and love and loss course through my veins, promising to overcome any opponent. “And you will tell me what I need to know when I decide I need to know it.”

  His head bobs in compliance, less comfortable with his new position than before. “Yeah, man. No prob.” Agtos glances down at my hand still gripping his collar. I release him but do not move away, not yet. “I’m cool with that. … You cool?” He swallows hard, not exhaling until I take a step back.

  Am I cool? No. I’m a volatile volcano about to erupt. “Sure.” Nothing in my voice or body language concurs with that. “Do not forget. You are no longer Lord Regent. I am. You fall under my authority.”

  “Well, now that we’ve settled that, how about we plan an attack.” Claaron’s sarcasm rings thick in his words. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m rather hungry. You know what they say. … Elf. It’s what’s for dinner.”

  Cait snickers, cupping a hand over her mouth.

  I want to capture her muffled laughter with my mouth, press her body against the wall, and claim her as mine once again. Her eyes meet mine, realizing I’m watching her, watching just as I did that day in court. Everything and nothing has changed since then. Yes, she sees me, but she lost something between there and here. She no longer knows, no longer understands what I feel when I look at her. Always more than my ward. Now perhaps always less than my wife. I do not know how to navigate this median.

  ***

  A large glass bowl set atop a mirror taken from the wall in the dining room, boiling water poured from Runa’s teakettle, filling it to the brim, these are the necessities Agtos insists will tell us what we need to know. I finish the last origami rose, handing it to Dante. His fingers close over it, reopening to reveal it fresh, white, fragrant, vibrant and alive. Jai takes it along with the others I have created and Dante brought to life, pulling each petal off, one-by-one, drawing a five-point star around the bowl. Completing the task, he cuts open his finger with my knife, closing everything prepared into a perfect circle.

  I understand none of this, to be honest. Water for clarity. A mirror for vision. White roses for purity in truth. Enclosed by the blood of a mage, somehow they work in unison.

  “Come on over here, Little Star.” Agtos holds a hand out to Cait. She hesitates but goes to him.

  I hate that he calls her that. I do not care how tiny she appears next to him. I do not care that she is the North Star. She does not belong to him, not in the way she belongs to me, to Claaron, to Jai, Oliver, Liam, and Clifford. We are her dragons. We may call her by nicknames, tokens of affection shared between us for bonds earned within her heart. Agtos may be a brother within House of Pendragon, may fall under her as the North Star, but he is not one of her dragons.

  “What do you need me for?” Cait questions everything. Perhaps if she were not this way, not a second thought would have crossed her mind in accepting the change brought on by Dante’s blood.

  He laughs. “You don’t trust me?” He grasps her hand, pulling her to him, close, too close. I barely contain a growl, but Cait can handle herself.

  Elbowing him in the gut, she pulls a step away. “Back off, and don’t get so handsy with me again. I asked what you need me for, and I expect an answer.”

  Agtos rolls his eyes but relents. “Valoin bit you, right?” She nods. “Then you’re like an antenna from one of those old radios or televisions.” Agtos grins. Cait’s eyes narrow. “Yeah. Guess you’re too young to know what those are.” His laugh deepens. I scowl. Cait easily becomes angered by evasive answers.

  “Blood ties.” Jai’s voice remains soft as always, though his own frustration with Agtos agitating Cait taints his words. “We touch.” He reaches out for her empty hand. I know he sees as easily as I how she held it balled in a fist until Jai wished to touch her. They clasp hands, his smile encouraging. “We find quick. Be done. No touch.” His last two words come with a significant glance to Agtos.

  “My blood within Caitriona should amplify such an ability,” Dante remarks, watching from the corner of his eyes, mostly keeping his attention outside the window, restless. The draw to act as her husband, a side effect of his blood within her, tortures him. His desire for Cait warring against his determination to be godly and moral, as he wholeheartedly believes his mother expects of him.

  Jai places one finger in the water, moving it in a clockwise circle, murmuring as if chanting to himself, the language unfamiliar even to me. Leaning over to look closer, our Oracle begins nodding and grinning. “Perfect. Right there.”

  The water’s surface appears to harden into a mirror just as clear as the one below it the moment Jai removes his finger, peering intently at what is not his reflection looking back. I move closer, trying to see what they do, but when I come nearer, the vision changes to Jai’s face where I expect something else still. “What happened?” I ask in a growl, displeased to think this may fail.

  “You no see. Eyes too blind.” Jai points at me then shoos me away. “Not mage eyes. Not Oracle eyes. See here, not beyond.” He gestures broadly toward the ceiling, facing the mirror-water, focusing on it rather than me as he speaks. “Z want revenge. Brother want power.” Jai shakes his head, frowning. “Not good.”

  Agtos leans in closer. “No, dude, this is so not cool. Valoin knows Cait has Dante’s blood in her. She’s got one big-ass target on her back. Bigger than before.”

  “Stop.” Cait’s voice is a whisper, making me believe she fears what they say, until I look at her and leap over the table, not caring in the least that I’ve ruined the carefully laid out work to see anything.

  “Let go of her,” I demand, scooping Cait into my arms, pulling her away from Agtos, Jai already quick to release her. “I may be blind to what you see in that, but this is unquestionably clear.” Placing her gently on the couch, I kneel at her side, wiping the blood from her nose with my thumb. “However you used her, it’s hurting Cait.”

  Agtos steps into the family room behind me. “Sorry, man. Must’ve been some kind of feedback loop or something Jai and me aren’t affected by.”

  She looks up at me, eyes wide, soft, dampened by pooling tears. “Where’s Claaron?”

  I brush her hair from her face. “You will be alright, Cait. I’m here.”

  Closing her eyes, a tear escapes, but she turns, refusing to face me when I try to wipe it away. “No. Don’t touch me. I don’t want you here.”

  I distance myself from her and stand. “Claaron.” It is an invitation I do not wish to extend, one unneeded, truth be told. He waited in the doorway until I accepted her request—her rejection—not willing to push me aside, knowing I would not deny her wishes.

  “Damn. I was hoping you’d slap him too,” Claaron teases as he kneels beside her, and she rolls toward him, reaching out to touch his arm, hold his hand, allowing him near her in every way I want to be.

  “I already did earlier.” Cait’s expression remains sullen, no playfulness in her voice. “It didn’t help apparently.”

  My body tenses at the words. No. I do not believe it helped, not me, not Cait, not Dante. T
he action relieved nothing of the confusion, pain, and heartache we all feel. I cannot watch this and walk back to the kitchen. “Jai, go to her. Stay with Cait. We must deal with the encampment, and I need Claaron.” Perhaps I do not need Claaron so much as I do not want him taking my place at Cait’s side, but I will not speak of that aloud.

  He nods, blue eyes widened, and touches my arm. “You be strong. North Star strong. Cait belong to you before.”

  I hear Cait’s voice, talking with ease to Claaron, his laughter as she clearly feels better, and I fear holding her too near me has only hurt her in ways I cannot see. “Cait belongs to Cait, Jai.” My words come at a whisper, difficult to hear myself say. “I simply want her heart to be mine.”

  Jai shakes his head. “No. No. In love, not pieces. Nothing but all. Nothing at all. No in-between.”

  “Thanks, Jai. That makes me feel so much better.” My monotone response fails to deliver the sarcasm and falsehood within those words, and he smiles before going to Cait. “Liam,” I call toward the front door, and he enters the house in seconds.

  “I’ve seen no movement from that direction, but I can’t tell you with any certainty that they won’t try coming at us from another angle.” He eyes the mess on the kitchen table. “I take it the plan didn’t work.”

  “It seemed to work fine, until Cait’s nose began bleeding in some reaction to the magick, and I put a stop to it. Z and Valoin do not have the same ultimate goals in this war effort. We will discuss what that means for us later. For now, we must move against them before they come closer, or more join them.”

  Claaron, Dante, and Agtos join us as we move to the hall, beyond Cait’s hearing. “Ready to take down some elves?” The enthusiasm of our former Lord Regent disturbs me, and I say nothing, pondering the situation. “What, man? You think I can’t handle it?”