Shadowed Lies

by Clara Hartley

“We can think about it together.” She ran kisses across his jaw. “And where’s the reward you promised yourself?”

  “A few months ago, you would throw up suggesting anything like the sort.”

  “I’m converted.”

  He laughed, but his features went dark soon after. “Not now, little fire. It’s the nature of this case I’m dealing with. It… it makes me afraid… about our relationship.”

  Her chest tightened. What was that supposed to mean? “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, nothing of the sort. That didn’t come out right.”

  “You have to tell me now.”

  He caved. “A man murdered his dragon wife today.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “He killed her in cold blood, but he has no recollection of the incident.”

  Perplexed, she licked her lips. “But that can’t be. The bond wouldn’t allow something like that to happen.” She touched the marking on her shoulder. “This is real,” she lied, and her heart squeezed into a tight knot.

  “I know, which is why it’s so troubling. The man obviously didn’t want to hurt his wife. He was crippled with guilt after what happened. What would drive such a person to do such a thing?”

  “Is he ill, perhaps?” she suggested, but she wasn’t convinced by her own guess. Dragons didn’t fall sick. “Mentally ill?” she said, after thinking over her words for a moment.

  “If he is, that’s a first.” Rayse brushed his hands over his hair. He always did that when flustered. “I think it’s magic. Do you know any spells that might make a man do such a thing?”

  She searched her memory. “Soul magic is somewhat related to nature and balance, which makes most spells elemental…” She stared up at the ceiling and tried to think hard. “No, nothing that I know of. Even if it did exist, I’m not sure any common mage could cast such a spell. A dragon’s mind isn’t easily manipulated. A spell like this would be ridiculously expensive. Impossibly so, even.” She pressed herself against Rayse. She wanted to be useful and give him something to go on, but her mind turned up a blank.

  “There. Now I’ve got you upset again. It’s my problem as femrah. Don’t worry about it.” He trailed his digits down her neck and to her back, making her tremble. Her eyes wandered to the stubble of his jaw, then up to his inviting lips.

  She placed a hand over his. “No, they’re ours. I’m femriahl, remember? Rayse, I’m your mate. I don’t want you to think of me as a flower who must be protected. I might have my own troubles, but at least I share them with you, and you lighten my burden. I want to be able to lighten yours, too.” She had become too comfortable with her lies.

  He rubbed her palm with his thumb. “I’ve dealt with such things by myself before.”

  “Well, now you can deal with them more efficiently because you have me,” she said, half-jokingly. His heartbeat was soft and gentle on her ears. Being next to Rayse was like being home.

  And then it struck her. A spell she’d read long ago. “Actually,” she said, “I might have an idea.” She beamed.

  Puzzlement trickled into his expression. “An idea?”

  Without explaining further, she left the bed and strode toward her study. She could feel Rayse’s presence behind her as he followed. She made her way to her large shelf of books, staring upon the countless volumes she’d managed to wade through during the previous months.

  “It might be a stretch, but at least it’s something,” she said. She trailed her fingers along the spines of the books, until she found one on the topic she wanted—ancient battle spells. She pried the crusty volume from its place. The papers were worn and looked half-eaten by insects. She’d only managed to find this book in an obscure corner of the library. Almost all the spells were useless because no witch, even she, with her inclination for the art, had the talent to carry them out anymore. At least, she wasn’t confident she could. She couldn’t afford these spells even if she had a use for them.

  She flipped through the chapters, trying to find that spell. The rough wrinkles of the tome prickled her fingers.

  “I couldn’t find anything in this book so I put it aside a few months back,” she told Rayse. “My mind had to make way for other studies, but it just struck me…”

  She continued to skim through the pages. The chirping of the critters she kept in her study filled the background. She made a mental note to shift them soon, but she was just so busy. Rayse walked up behind her and enveloped her with his heat. She heard his breathing next to her ears, and she attempted to forget how it made her breathe hard.

  “You make it hard to concentrate,” she said.

  “Oh, how so?”

  “When you…” She continued to flip through her tome. “Never mind.”

  He dug his face into the nape of her neck and smothered her with kisses.

  “Rayse, I thought you said you weren’t in the mood.”

  “Something about seeing you worked up over your spells stirs me.” He reached up and cupped her breast.

  Her mind almost went blank. “Rayse…”

  “Continue. You have a mystery to solve.” He nipped at her skin and her knees almost buckled.

  She pulled her resolve together and resumed her searching. Wanting to stop him before she completely lost her mind, she quickly found her spell. “There, I think I’ve got it.” She fetched her quill and circled the paragraph that interested her. “Here, odium addiancienne.”

  “Odium addiancienne?” he repeated, mispronouncing the words. He dragged his touch away, leaving her disappointed.

  “Ancient Dragon Tongue for undoing love and bringing hatred. This spell only works on a person who truly loves the intended victim. It was commonly used for dragon wives, or so it says here, to murder important dragon lords.” She looked up at Rayse, uneasy at the thought of being forced to kill him by such a horrific spell. “I don’t see why it can’t be used the other way around. The stronger the love, the more powerful the manifested hatred will be.”

  “Sounds likely.”

  She pressed a finger on her lips and frowned in thought. “I’m not sure about that. It might be another cause. Why would someone force a man, a non-important figure at that, to murder a mere dragon wife? Plus, this spell is immensely expensive. It requires the sacrifice of an entire herd of cattle. It’s commonly reserved for kings and rulers.”

  Rayse grunted. “I don’t know. But it’s as good a guess as any other. We don’t have any leads at all. The few witches we have here likely aren’t good enough to come up with any theories. We have Greta, who specializes in healing, and some other women who can do parlor tricks. They’re no longer as adept with magic as you are, definitely.” He looked at her with a warm gaze. “Seeing as you’ve spent countless hours poring over these books.”

  “Nonsense, I’ve barely learned anything. You have witches here who are hundreds of years old.”

  “I believe in you.”

  Her heart beat faster whenever he showed her that tender look. She tried to ignore how he made her feel like pudding, and said, “You should let me visit that man. Maybe I could learn something from it.”

  A scowl surfaced.

  “You don’t like that idea,” she said.

  “No, I don’t want you anywhere near Karona.”

  “I won’t be harmed.”

  “It’s a risk.”

  She edged closer and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know that you’ll be right there beside me. I trust in you, Rayse. You won’t let anything happen. Plus, shouldn’t he be behind bars? The dragon stone would prevent him from shifting out of his cell.”

  “Dragons… are unpredictable.”

  She cupped his face and tilted his chin toward her. “There’s one thing that isn’t, and I’m sure of it. I can trust you to protect me.” She tiptoed and wisped her lips over his jaw. Her lips couldn’t reach his, not with his height.

  He inhaled softly. “All right. But make it brief. I’m not entirely against the notion. I und
erstand we need any information we can get concerning these attacks.”

  She drew him into an embrace. “I’ll do my best.”

  Chapter 3

  Stay close,” Rayse said.

  Constance gripped his hand tightly as he led her down the stairs. His hands were twice the size of hers, and encapsulated hers entirely. The damp, musty scent of the lower levels of the keep reached her lungs. It was an unpleasant smell—grimy, with an unsettling resemblance to piss. Rayse carried a torch next to her, illuminating barely enough space.

  “Why is it so dark?” she asked.

  “Dragons don’t need light to see in the dark, so we don’t see a purpose in hanging lanterns.”

  “And the prisoners live in darkness?”

  She glimpsed a brief nod.

  “That’s horrible.”

  “It’s punishment. It’s supposed to be that way. Dragon’s don’t get sent here unless they’ve committed horrible crimes. Most of us can get away with a lot.”

  A squelching sound crawled toward her as she climbed down the steps. “Is Ranwynn here?”

  Rayse was so quiet compared to her. “Yes.”

  “But his mother… she’s distraught over his imprisonment.”

  “He tried to kill me, but worse than that, you. That’s the most punishable of crimes.”

  She didn’t think herself that important, but didn’t argue.

  They reached the dungeons. She noted the rusted bars separating the cells, and the dampness of the ground. Was it urine she was stepping on? Because this place smelled foul. She was careful not to brush her shoulders against the walls, for fear she’d touch something dirty. She could almost taste the hopelessness of the atmosphere.

  “I would think death is preferable to living in such conditions,” she said, wincing. “How many prisoners are down here?”

  “Not many,” Rayse said. “Less than ten.”

  The dripping of leaking water echoed from somewhere. The silence was chilling. With Rayse as her guide and comfort, they traveled down the narrow walkway. The torch lit up the cells. The dungeon was quite large, and most of the cells were empty.

  She startled when the light from Rayse’s torch illuminated a ghostlike figure. His hair was long, matted, and grayish. Gasping, she backed into Rayse’s chest. The prisoner looked directly at her with fiery hate. She recognized this man, but barely. She couldn’t put her finger on who he was exactly.

  “Femriahl.” His voice was weak but coarse—laced with the sharp tone of distaste.

  “Ranwynn?” she said. Shock took her by surprise as recognition dawned on her.

  The silver dragon snarled.

  Rayse nudged her back, pushing her forward. “Let’s go, Constance.”

  She stole a lingering glance at Ranwynn before moving on. Her chest tightened as she heard his rumbly growling. The man looked nothing like he did before he was thrown in here. She didn’t manage to get a good study of him before he was imprisoned, but she had seen medium-length shimmery hair and a toned figure. Now, he was merely a shadow of his former self. He was by no means emaciated, but his complexion had dulled—almost like the mishram’s—and his hair looked nothing like before. His body resembled that of a thin human instead of a dragon, and blackened plaque laced his teeth.

  “Is he fed?” she asked, dreading the answer.

  “A few times a week,” her mate replied.

  She frowned. “That’s barely anything.”

  “It’s something, at least. He’s lucky we give him food at all. He’s here to serve punishment, not for a holiday.”

  “He’ll die. You might as well sentence him to death with such little nourishment.”

  She saw a few more prisoners groaning in their cells, but none of them confronted her like Ranwynn did. She quickly redirected her eyes, disturbed by their suffering.

  Rayse shook his head. “Not necessarily. He’ll survive. Dragons can go into a state of hibernation, which makes them slower but allows them to preserve energy. It’s not pleasant, but it’ll help these men live on. You don’t get thrown in here unless you’ve done something deserving.”

  “Can’t you just feed them regular meals?”

  “No. They’re lucky I let them live in the first place.”

  She opened her mouth to voice a rebuttal, but Rayse stopped and held her back with a firm grip, making her halt, too.

  “Karona,” Rayse said, knocking on the magic-infused bars.

  She noticed an untouched deer carcass in the spacious cell. Flies were beginning to gather around it. A beaten figure huddled in a corner. “Are you here to bring me peace?” Karona said.

  “It’s not time yet,” Rayse replied.

  Karona remained crouched against the dragon-stone wall.

  Silence.

  Rayse wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’ve brought my wife to meet you. She has some questions to ask about that night.”

  Karona remained unmoving. “Wife,” he said, his voice so hushed it sent chills to her bones. “I killed her. W-w… with my own hands…”

  “We’re here to ask you about that. Constance thinks she might get some leads if she asks you directly.”

  “I… I can’t remember. I’ve said over and over again. I don’t recall anything. If you’re not here to kill me, leave me alone. I don’t want any memory of what I did.” He sobbed.

  “Karona, please,” she said, stepping forward. She sensed Rayse’s unease, throbbing behind her like a cat ready to pounce. “Any information will help immensely. We think magic is involved. Do you want this to happen to other dragons and their wives? A phenomenon is happening, and we don’t have an explanation. Unless we can find one, we won’t be able to stop this from playing out again.”

  Karona’s dark figure rocked back and forth. A long pause filled the damp air. He bowed his head. “Magic? Was I… misled?”

  Encouraged by his response, she said, “Someone had to have met you to cast that spell. Do you remember who?”

  “I can’t remember… can’t remember anything.”

  “Please. Just think. What was the last thing you recall before blanking out?”

  “Can’t remember.”

  She gazed up at Rayse, seeking direction. She wasn’t sure if meeting this man would lead them anywhere. It seemed as if they were going to walk away with nothing, and just as lost as before.

  Karona’s heavy breathing suddenly stopped. She could see his figure still, and the coolness of the dungeon weaved toward her bones. “There’s something,” the prisoner said.

  “What is it?” she said. “Think, Karona. Anything of use.”

  He stood up and moved toward the light of the torch. He looked like a mentally tired man, but his physique was still that of a dragon male. Shock registered on his face as he said, “I remember you.” Karona’s eyes morphed into dragon yellow, and a twisted look sliced through his features. “You put the spell on me. It was you, femriahl. You appeared in front of me and my family right before I felt that hatred.”

  “Karona, you’re mistaken, I would never—” She yelped as the man reached past his bars and grabbed her arm. Rayse was quick to pull her away, but the prisoner’s grip bruised her. She winced at the lingering pain.

  The dragon slammed at the magic-imbued bars, screaming, “You took her from me. You made me kill my wife!”

  “Calm yourself,” Rayse commanded him.

  “You have no authority over me,” Karona said. “Your wife is a liar and a wretched witch. I will have you destroyed. I will rip you apart, and I will make her watch. Then she’ll know how it feels to have your insides torn apart from guilt and self-loathing.”

  Constance shivered as his blazing eyes met hers. Their gazes didn’t lock for long. She had to avoid his.

  Rayse reached into the cell and lifted him up, choking him. “Nobody threatens my mate.”

  “Burn in hell,” Karona said, coughing. “I will threaten her however I wish.”

  Rayse threw him aside. There was a sickeni
ng crack as his bones met the wall.

  Karona made a disconcerting cackling noise. “You think you can hurt me. You can’t. I have nothing more to lose. I’d risk everything just to make you feel the way I do right now.”

  “We’re leaving,” Rayse said. “This meeting was obviously all for naught and far too dangerous for you, little fire.” Her mate’s anger sent goosebumps over her skin.

  Karona threw his head back and laughed. “You’re running because you’re scared. That’s funny. Is it guilt that’s making you this react that way?”

  Rayse growled at him. “You should watch your words. I can have your tongue cut out.”

  Unfazed, Karona shot Rayse a mocking glare. “Do what you will. I don’t have a use for it anymore. What’s the purpose of life now that she’s gone?”

  Rayse opened his mouth, but hesitated. Then, after some consideration, he turned to Constance. “We’ve stayed here long enough. We should leave.”

  It was the first time she’d seen Rayse at a loss for words. He kept a firm grip on her arm as he pulled her toward the exit.

  “Don’t trust her, Rayse. She’s a witch of the most terrible kind, and you will eventually meet your demise at her fingertips. Or perhaps you knew about her viciousness all along—then the two of you should burn in hell.”

  A sharp breath left her lips. The iciness of the warning nearly froze the beating of her heart.

  Rayse tugged her away. “Don’t look at him.”

  “Running like a rabbit.” Karona growled. “The Black Menace is a damn pussy after all. Sin is on your face, femriahl. Your misdeeds will be punished, eventually.”

  Walking at their brisk pace, they soon reached the exit and entered the warm glow of the outside.

  Rayse pulled his hand through his hair. His dragon was smoldering within, angered at what that encounter with Karona had done to his mate. The stench of Constance’s fear surrounded her, and he wanted to wipe that away.

  “We shouldn’t have gone,” he said.

  “We learned something, at least.” She had her arms wrapped around her body. Constance only did that when something stressed her out. “Why did Karona say he saw me? What do I have to do with this?”