by Rebecca York
Thank Ravina. Willow struggled to strengthen her resolve. “We must help him and help ourselves.”
“How?”
“We must get free. But wait until the main body of the guards has withdrawn.”
She stood listening for long moments until the uproar in the corridor subsided. Standing near the door, she sent her mind outward, probing at the lock. When she thought she understood the mechanism, she began to slowly turn it. The lock clicked, and she cautiously opened the barrier a crack. A guard was standing with his back to her. Silently she crossed the room again and grabbed the fireplace poker. Opening the door wider, she lunged out, striking the man on the top of the head. When he crumpled, she took his dagger, then pulled him into the room and locked it behind her.
From there, she made her way down the hall to the royal chamber, which was locked but unguarded.
With a quick twist, she opened the door. Grantland whirled, his fists raised.
“I have little time,” she told him as she took in the anger and despair on his features.
“Is Rowan all right?” he asked urgently “Did you talk to her?”
“Yes. And yes.”
“Thank the gods.”
“Listen carefully. A dragon is going to attack the castle. When it does, go down to your men. Tell them that only the queen and her sister can save the kingdom.”
“How do you know a dragon will attack?”
“He told me.”
His expression changed to a mixture of astonishment and anger. “It’s the same dragon who tried to kill me, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“And now you are you saying you trust him?”
“He has changed,” she answered, praying she had not made a terrible mistake.
“Why?”
She swallowed hard. “I believe he fell in love with me.”
“And you with him,” Grantland bit out.
She raised her chin. “We don’t get to choose when or why that will happen. You and Rowan are an unlikely pair.”
He nodded. “And Devon and Galladar.”
“Your sister and her dragon consort?”
“Yes.”
“Then trust in this dragon. Wait until you hear the people screaming. Tell them the queen and her sister have powers that will save the kingdom. Do I have your agreement?”
“I have little choice,” he answered in a gritty voice, and she knew he still wasn’t completely convinced. Since there was no time to keep arguing with him, she withdrew and hurried down the hall to the room where she had seen the men drag Rowan. Again there was a guard, and this time he saw her coming. When he lunged at her, she hurled a bolt of power at him, stunning him so that he fell to the floor before she bashed him over the head with the poker. Then she unlocked the door and let Rowan out.
“Hurry.”
“Where are we going?”
“To one of the towers. You must show me the way.”
“We can’t get away by going up there.” She stopped. “Well, perhaps we can. Grantland and I escaped from the elders in Valleyhold by jumping off a cliff, and I cushioned our landing.”
“If we have to, we’ll do that,” Willow answered, thinking that they would be leaping into a crowd of hostile onlookers. But she didn’t voice the observation. Instead she said, “Nobody will suspect where we’ve gone.”
The queen led her to another doorway, then into a stairway that wound upward into a turret.
“Stay inside until we hear people shouting,” Willow said.
“And then what?”
“We are going to save the kingdom from a dragon.”
Rowan gasped. “A dragon? How?”
“He’ll only pretend to attack. And we will pretend to shoot him down with a blast of power.”
Rowan looked at her doubtfully.
“The people will think we are the only thing that could save them. They will thank us—and your safety will be assured.”
“I don’t know,” Rowan whispered, and Willow could see that she might have gone through too much recently to think rationally. Or was Willow the one incapable of rational thought?
They huddled together in the tower, and they didn’t have to wait long to hear shouts from below.
Amid the screams, voices floated up. “A dragon. Gods save us.”
“Come on,” Willow said. “We must show ourselves.”
When Rowan held back, Willow pulled her on to the balcony that ran around the top of the tower.
Above them, in the light of the twin moons, Cullendor circled the castle, sending down blasts of fire.
Then from the courtyard, they heard a commanding voice. “Stay calm. Everyone stay calm.”
“It’s Grantland,” Rowan whispered.
Playing his part in the unfolding drama, he raised his voice and bellowed. “You branded my queen and her sister as witches. They are no witches, but they have powers of the mind that can save us. This dragon dogged our tracks on the road from my queen’s home, and now he has come back to threaten the whole kingdom.”
Cullendor dove toward the courtyard, punctuating the king’s words with a blast of fire that raked the ground in front of a group of men and women. As the fire blazed up, the people cowered back against the wall of the keep.
Still playing his part, Grantland looked up toward the tower where the queen and her sister stood.
“Can you save us from this monster?”
“We will try,” Willow called down.
Beside her Rowan was shaking. “It’s him,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“Grantland spoke the truth. It’s the dragon who attacked us outside the cave and then again in the forest. I see the burned patch on his shoulder.”
“But he’s repented,” Willow told her.
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“And you believe him?” Rowan asked the same question that Grantland had asked earlier.
“Yes.”
Cullendor chose that moment to send a blast of fire toward the tower. Willow could see it was well away from where they stood, but Rowan only responded to what she thought was an attack from a known enemy.
She lifted her arms, and pointed toward the great beast as it circled the tower.
As Willow sensed what her sister was planning to do, she screamed, “No.”
But it was already too late.
A blast of lightning shot from Rowan’s outstretched arm, striking the dragon in midflight. He roared in pain and lurched in the air, then began to hurtle downward.
“No,” Willow screamed again, but Rowan was mad with fear, and she blasted the dragon again, her power barely under her control.
Again Cullendor cried out in pain as he fought desperately to put distance between himself and the castle, but his flight faltered as he sank into the trees.
A cheer went up from the crowd below.
“We’re saved. We’re saved. The queen has saved us.”
In dismay, Willow watched the dragon hurtle down, trying to see where he was going to crash-land. When she thought she had the location, she pulled Rowan back inside.
She wanted to scream and rage at her sister, but she knew that Rowan had only acted instinctively when the same dragon who had attacked her before came after her again.
“I must go to him.”
Rowan grabbed her arm. “No. Stay here.”
“I can’t.” She wrenched away, then turned and fled, hoping she could get through the crowd below.
She ran down the stone steps, and without waiting to find out if it was safe for her to venture out, she charged into the courtyard and was caught in a crowd of milling people.
Grantland saw her, sh
oved his way through the throng and grabbed her arm. “Is Rowan all right?”
“Yes.”
She heard a man’s voice shout, “We must find the dragon and make sure he is dead.”
Willow gasped and looked pleadingly at Grantland. “Stop them.”
He nodded tightly. “No one leaves the castle until I declare it safe,” he said.
There were murmurs of agreement, and Willow was thankful for that.
Grantland led her to a side gate and helped her ease out. “Let us know what happens.”
“Yes.”
With her heart in her throat, she rushed toward the forest. Heedless of her own safety, she ran for the spot where she thought Cullendor had gone down. At first she couldn’t find him, and panic rose in her throat. Then she saw him lying on a bed of dry leaves—not a dragon, but a man, dressed as he had been the last time she’d seen him. He’d managed to change form and that gave her hope. If soldiers came, they’d attack a dragon, but hopefully not a man.
“Cullen,” she cried out as she ran forward. When he didn’t stir, her heart stopped and began to beat again in double time as she knelt beside him, pressing her hand to the side of his neck. To her vast relief, she felt a pulse beating there.
“Cullen,” she repeated. “Are you all right? Please wake up.” When he didn’t stir, she did what he had done the first time they met. Bending toward him, she pressed her lips to his, reassured by their warmth as she nibbled and stroked, their mouths the only point of contact.
She heard him make a sound deep in his throat, then speak her name. “Willow.”
“Thank the gods.”
“Willow,” he said again, more strongly, as he opened his eyes and gazed at her.
“When you went down, I thought I would lose my mind,” she whispered.
“Dragons heal quickly. I’m only a little bruised, I think.” He slung an arm around her, pulling her close. They lay together in the dry leaves, holding each other, hands eagerly stroking over backs and shoulders and into tangled hair.
“What you did was so brave,” she whispered.
“No braver than you. You wouldn’t leave your sister in the castle in danger, and I saw you high up on that tower with her.”
He raised his head and looked back toward Arandal. “Will she be all right?”
“I think so. She did save the kingdom from a fearsome dragon. I hope they will realize it can be an advantage to have people with powers beyond the ordinary.”
“Yes.”
“Thanks to you.”
She levered her body on top of his and found his mouth again. This time when their lips met, heat flamed between them.
He deepened the kiss, and she moved against him, loving the taste of him, the feel of his body under hers.
His tongue dipped into her mouth, exploring the line of her teeth, then stroking the sensitive tissue on the inside of her lips, sending hot currents curling through her.
At the inn, she had run from him because she knew he had used her ill. But he had followed her—and saved her and Rowan. And she knew that he had changed from the dragon who had sought to kill the king and usurp the throne of Arandal.
“You are so precious to me,” he murmured as his hands stroked up and down her ribs, gliding upward to find the sides of her breasts, then inward, across her tight nipples as the hard shaft of his cock pressed against her middle.
“This court dress, how do I get the damn thing off?” he muttered.
“Let me help you.”
She reached to undo the ties at the back, and he aided her, their fingers tangling as they both tugged at the bodice, pulling it down to expose her breasts.
He bent to them, turning his head one way and the other, kissing her, then taking one hardened nipple into his mouth.
She cried out at the pleasure of it.
Her breath shuddered in and out as he pulled up her skirt and stroked her most intimate flesh.
“I’m so sorry I ran from you,” she whispered.
“You thought I had tricked you,” he answered as he stroked her. “I did trick you, and I am so sorry for it.”
“No more talking,” she gasped. “I need to feel you inside me.”
He tore down his leggings, then covered her body with his, plunging inside her.
As he joined with her, her joy welled up. “Cullen, I love you.”
He went still above her. “Truly?”
“Yes. I knew it was true before those animals attacked us. That was why I was so upset when I found out you had lied to me.”
“Oh Willow, Willow. I knew it was true as well. And then you left me.”
“But you have me now.” She punctuated the words by thrusting against him, and the conversation stopped abruptly as they moved frantically against each other, both of them driving for completion.
Climax took her in a blinding flash of pleasure, and she felt him follow her, shouting his satisfaction as his seed pumped into her.
He moved off her, gathering her to him.
“Tell me again that you love me. I want to hear the words,” she whispered.
“I love you. More than I thought possible.” He swallowed hard. “A female dragon loves her daughters above all else, and she casts her sons out. Love is not possible for us in our world.” He swallowed hard. “I never hoped for it—until I met you.”
“That’s sad.” She clasped him to her.
“You saved me from a lonely existence.” He stroked his lips against her cheek. “And we will work out a way to make a life together. But now we should put our clothing back to rights because the king’s men may come looking for a dragon.”
“A wise move.”
They both stood. He pulled up his leggings, then helped her rearrange her dress.
“How do I look?” she asked as she ran a hand through her hair.
“Beautiful.”
She flushed. “To you.”
“To any male.”
“We will have to go back to the castle. Rowan and Grantland will want to know that you are all right.”
He cleared his throat. “I am abashed to meet them. I did try to kill them—before I came to my senses.”
“They know you have changed—and that you saved Rowan’s life when the people of Arandal turned on her.”
“And who will we say I am? I mean—to those who don’t know my true identity.”
“That you are my husband,” she said without thinking, then drew in a quick breath. “I mean...
He squeezed her hand. “Husband. I like that title.”
They had started walking toward the castle, when Cullendor stiffened.
“What?” Willow drew in a breath as she saw a man and a woman standing in the moonlight several yards away. Both were dressed in fine clothing—he in a linen jacket and silk leggings and she in a silk gown. He was dark and handsome, with his hair hanging loose around his shoulders. As she gazed at him, she saw he had something of the look of Cullendor. The woman was young and beautiful and reminded her of Grantland.
Cullendor’s nostrils flared as he squared his shoulders. “You are...”
“Galladar,” the newcomer said.
“The other dragon,” Willow breathed. “Grantland spoke of you.” Her gaze went to the woman. “And you must be his sister—Devon.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Have you come to fight with me again?” Cullendor asked, his posture rigid.
“No.” Galladar’s gaze stayed steady. “You came to this world as I did—trying to find your way. I was like you, but I took longer to find out what was important in life.” He paused for a moment. “I think the love of a good woman changed us both.”
Cullendor relaxed fractionally. “It is true for me. And I know you have been
with Devon...”
“For ten years,” Galladar finished.
“But she looks barely into womanhood,” Willow breathed.
“I have learned what will keep her young.”
“What?” Cullendor asked quickly.
“Some of my blood.”
Willow drew in a quick breath. “Your blood?”
“You will learn not to be shocked by the ways of dragons,” Devon said softly. She looked fondly at Galladar. “He has changed me—and I him.”
Galladar nodded, then inclined his head toward Cullendor. “I do not need to fight you to prove myself or stake out my territory. I only fought you before to save Grantland and Rowan.”
“I understand why you did it.”
A flicker of movement made them all turn, and Grantland stepped forward. Rowan was several steps behind him.
Devon went to her brother, and they embraced, speaking quietly together before turning back to the group.
“We can’t go to the castle with you,” Devon said. “Some of the people will remember me and wonder where I have been all these years.”
Grantland nodded. “We will do as we have before—meet at the hunting lodge.”
“Yes,” Devon agreed.
She and Galladar walked into the forest. Moments later, a dragon rose through the trees, a dragon with a woman dressed in light armor riding on his back. They circled over the four people on the ground, then flew into the west.
Grantland looked back toward his queen, who had stayed behind him. “Time for you to come forward.”
She scuffed her feet against the dry leaves, then walked slowly toward Cullendor. “In my panic, I almost killed you,” she said to him. “Can you forgive me?”
He kept his voice steady. “If you can forgive me for trying to do the same thing to you six months ago when I was misguided in my ambitions.”
“I think we are both wiser,” she said. “And with Willow here to steady me, I think I can better control my powers.”
“I’ll do everything I can to help you,” Willow answered, embracing her sister again.
Cullendor looked toward the sky. “The strong sun in your land is difficult for me, and I must shelter for the day.”
“Will you be our guest in the castle?” Grantland asked.
