by Jasmine Walt
Except here she was. Standing in Dareena’s private chambers, ready to “serve” her.
“Do the two of you know each other?” Drystan asked, glancing curiously between them.
“We are from the same town,” Dareena said, holding Lyria’s gaze. She half-expected the dragon born to make some sort of snarky comment, but she held her tongue. Dareena wondered what she’d done to deserve such a punishment—surely she would have never come here of her own free will!
“I see you two are already acquainted,” the steward said, ignoring the tension crackling in the room. He gestured to a petite female with shoulder-length, curly blonde hair, dressed in a black mourning gown. “This is Rantissa Bellisam, recently widowed by a wealthy merchant from Asalan,” he said. “And this is Soldian Tassar, daughter of Lord Tassar of Canthas.” The two women bowed.
Dareena scrutinized the other two ladies. Rantissa seemed pleasant but reserved, her blue eyes remote as she held Dareena’s gaze. Soldian was younger, around sixteen, with a head of thick, shining brown hair. She was much plainer-looking than Rantissa, who was a classic beauty, or Lyria, whose beauty was like the blaze of a distant star, but she had silvery eyes that seemed to sparkle with an inner light, and a fey look about her that suggested she was not averse to mischief and was the kind of girl one could easily make fast friends with.
And yet…
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Dareena said. “Steward, could you have them wait in the hall? There is a private matter I must discuss with you.”
“Certainly.”
The three ladies curtsied and left the room. As soon as the door shut, Dareena rounded on Tarius. “Steward, while I appreciate your initiative in this manner, I really must protest your choices. Lyria and I are old enemies, and while Rantissa and Soldian seem nice enough, I do not know them. I really would have preferred to choose my ladies-in-waiting myself.”
“I understand,” Tarius said gravely. “It is, in fact, customary for the Dragon’s Gift to do so, but she normally chooses from the noble girls in her generation. Due to your, ah, common birth, there are none that you are already acquainted with, so I took the liberty of choosing for you. I must also point out,” he said before Dareena could protest further, “that it was difficult enough finding these three.”
“And why is that?” Drystan demanded. “Dareena is the Dragon’s Gift, and her recent actions have saved the lives of thousands of soldiers. Our women should be lining up to serve her.”
“I agree,” the steward said apologetically, “however, not everyone in the kingdom shares those views. There are those who view your… arrangement as unseemly and do not want their daughters anywhere near the royal household out of fear that they too might get the idea that it is acceptable to have more than one paramour. Add that to the anger many of the nobles are feeling over the tax cuts, and we are left with a dearth of qualified candidates.”
Drystan snarled, a sentiment that echoed Dareena’s feelings perfectly. So the aristocracy was determined to snub them simply because they could not keep their noses out of Dareena’s bedroom? Well, she would show them. When the four of them finally had the chance to wed, she would throw the most lavish, ostentatious ceremony she could come up with to celebrate their union. A union which had been blessed by the dragon god, and was necessary to save their people and lift the curse. Clearly the citizens of Dragonfell did not understand this and were determined to view Dareena as a slut. That would have to change.
But first, she had to deal with the matter at hand.
“Why is Lyria Hallowdale here?” Dareena asked, genuinely curious. “I can’t imagine she volunteered.”
Tarius cleared his throat. “Her father volunteered her on her behalf,” he said, looking mildly uncomfortable. “Apparently there has been trouble at home these past few weeks.”
“Of that I have no doubt.” Dareena had to hide a smirk. She imagined Lyria had been an absolute terror to deal with after she’d lost her position to Dareena. Lord Hallowdale had clearly had enough of her, for once, and was trying to teach her a lesson.
“Very well,” she said. “I will take all three of them, on a trial basis.” As much as she wanted to send Lyria away, she knew that was exactly what the dragon born noble wanted. By keeping her here, she was forcing Lyria to pay penance for once—something she’d likely never had to do in her privileged life. But in the meantime, Dareena would write to Cyra and offer her a position. It was high time she had a female friend by her side.
6
Drystan was sitting in his office, going through the morning mail, when a knock came at the door. “Who is it?” he called, even as he slit open a letter from yet another one of his vassals. They’d been pouring in ever since the treasure had been recovered, asking for audiences, reminding him of old alliances and agreements, making complaints, and on it went. Drystan had gotten the very distinct impression over the last few days that his father had been ignoring these letters, or that the vassals had been too afraid to send them—some of these grievances seemed to have been festering for quite a while.
“It’s us,” Alistair said, opening the door.
Drystan jumped out of his seat as he and Tariana came in, looking tired but satisfied. “How did the recruit mission go?” he asked, embracing them both. “Did you put—” He stopped himself, then cleared his throat. “We should go downstairs so you can give me a full report.”
Alistair went still, and Tariana scanned the room, eyes narrowed. Drystan was still getting used to the idea of holding his tongue; he’d been holding all meetings of strategic import in the underground council chamber to avoid Shadowhaven’s magical spying. It infuriated him that he could not count on privacy even in his personal quarters, but then, this was war. He supposed if he had the power to listen in on King Wulorian’s war meetings, he would do the same.
The three of them adjourned to the underground chamber, along with Shadley, who had been on his way to meet Drystan anyway. Drystan half-wondered if he should bring Dareena with them, but she’d started feeling dizzy and tired in the mornings, so he was loath to wake her. She’d still been sound asleep when he’d left their chambers an hour ago.
You can always debrief her later.
“Well?” he asked once they were all settled. “What news from Glastar?”
“The strike forces have been assembled,” Tariana said. “Xenai and Ara have taken over their training for the moment. We did have a rather…interesting development during testing.” A dark cloud seemed to cross her face. “We found spies amongst our ranks.”
“Spies?” Drystan and Shadley said at once. “Warlock spies?” Shadley demanded.
Alistair nodded. “Not warlocks themselves, but yes, from Shadowhaven. They have illusion charms, and they have been using them to impersonate our soldiers after killing them.” His jaw clenched. “I discovered one who was posing as a dragon born, because he shied away from Tariana’s flames during the tests. We forced every soldier at the base to strip, and found eight spies in total among them. All have been executed.”
Shadley shook his head in disgust. “We’ll need to do the same with the rest of the encampments, and with all the castle staff,” he said. “It’s bad enough that the warlocks are eavesdropping on us with magic, but this…”
“There is no use in dwelling on it,” Drystan said firmly. Such thoughts only served to anger them, and anger would not serve them well. Yes, there could be spies amongst them, and they would deal with it quickly and efficiently. But he would not allow himself, or his staff, to be ruled by emotion and fear. They needed to focus on how to get ahead of the enemy, and not merely sit here and wring their hands.
“Yes, Your Highness.” Shadley cleared his throat. “I do have some very interesting news from Elvenhame, just in by raven this morning.”
“Oh?” Tariana sat up straight. “Anything about Arolas?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Shadley gave her a smug smile. “The High King did indeed finally rele
ase his eldest son from the dungeons, but the lingering effects from the warlock envoy’s spell are fast wearing off, and he has not been taking to Arolas’s temper tantrums well. Neither has the elven goddess, for that matter.”
“The elven goddess?” Alistair asked, sounding as surprised as Drystan felt. “Has she spoken again?”
Shadley nodded. “My spies tell me that the king and his son had heated words. Arolas tried to take advantage of being the only royal sibling left in the castle by urging his father to strike at our armies again, but Andur blames him for this whole mess, and he is ready to sue for peace. The warlocks sent him a message that they have Princess Basilla, and are threatening to storm the castle if the king does not hand over her dowry. The king was outraged when he heard they were going to force his daughter to marry Prince Mordan, but Arolas argued that it would be a waste of resources to go and rescue her, and that it was her fault for sneaking off in the first place.”
“Snake,” Tariana spat, her eyes glittering with rage.
Alistair shook his head. “He deserves to be strung up by his balls and hung on the tallest tower of Castle Whitestone for all to see,” he snarled. “He’s an insufferable bastard, and he’s tried to force Dareena into his bed before.”
Drystan clenched his fists beneath the table as a red haze filled his vision. The thought of his beloved being violated by that elven prick sparked a roaring flame in his chest, and he had to draw in a slow, deep breath to keep himself from torching the room.
She’s all right, he reminded himself, picturing her sleeping form. She’d cuddled against him all night long, her sweet curves pressed against him, her cheek resting against his heartbeat. Arolas was no danger to her.
But even so… “You have my permission to kill him, if the opportunity presents itself,” he said to Alistair. He might have claimed the right himself, but his brother had gotten his arm chopped off by the elven prince. If anyone deserved to kill Arolas, it was Alistair.
“In any case,” Shadley went on, glancing warily between them, “the elven goddess was so infuriated by Arolas’s callous behavior that she seized control of one of the servants and spoke to them. She told the king that a great curse would befall his house should he put Arolas in any position of power again, including general, and that as recompense for what they have done, she will lift the curse on the dragons as soon as Dareena’s babe is born.”
“What?” the three of them shouted in unison. They stared at Shadley as if he’d grown a second head. “Are you certain?” Tariana asked, her eyes bright. “This is not some trick?”
“The information came from one of my most trusted spies,” Shadley said, beaming. “I am certain.”
“This is fantastic news!” Drystan cried, elation filling his chest. He jumped up from his chair and embraced his siblings, who were equally overjoyed. “Damn the warlocks for making us huddle in here like this. We should have a drink to celebrate!”
“Damn right, we should,” Tariana agreed, grinning from ear to ear. “My sisters and I will finally be able to have children! I cannot wait to tell Ryolas.” Her eyes glowed. “We will finally be able to marry now.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Alistair said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Though I am sure Ryolas would marry you regardless.”
“While this is great news indeed,” Shadley said, interrupting their moment, “Shadowhaven will have also heard of this development, and will do everything they can to stop it. Breaking the curse is contingent on Dareena delivering your child safely, after all. If they can prevent that from happening…”
“Blast it.” Drystan scooped a hand through his hair. “She needs to be under guard at all times.” With some of the joy wearing off, fear squeezed his heart like a vice. Dareena was strong, but her body was only human, and she did not have the healing abilities of a dragon. It would be all too easy for a warlock spy to assassinate her.
“I’ll take care of it,” Alistair said grimly. “Whenever she is not with one of us, she must have at least two of her ladies-in-waiting with her, and four guards whenever she leaves the Keep.”
“Better to not let her leave the Keep at all,” Tariana said. “That will infuriate her, of course, but too much depends upon keeping her safe. The fate of our race lies in that babe.”
Drystan sighed. “Which of us gets the dubious honor of informing her of this?” he asked. He could already imagine how upset she would be—Dareena loved her garden walks, and had been taking them daily since returning. Just the other day, she’d talked of visiting the market to shop for toys for the babe.
Alistair winced. “I hate denying her anything,” he said, “but this is for her own protection, and that of the babe. She’ll understand that.”
“Let’s call her down here now,” Shadley said, rising from his seat. “She should really be here for this.”
The four of them waited as a guard brought Dareena to the council chamber. She was dressed in a garnet-colored gown today, Drystan noted, similar in color to the one she’d worn for the selection ritual. He was pleased to note the healthy color in her cheeks, and when she squealed in delight at the sight of Alistair, he knew that her energy was up.
“I’m so happy you’re home,” she said, hugging Alistair tightly. “Why didn’t you come and see me first?”
“We didn’t want to wake you, since you’ve been feeling ill in the mornings.” Alistair kissed her soundly, then pulled her into his lap as he resumed his seat. Drystan felt a flash of jealousy as he watched them cuddle together, but he couldn’t very well have a tug of war with his brother over their mate. She was free to sit with whichever one she wanted.
“Well, I’m here now,” she said. “What are we discussing?”
“Your safety,” Drystan said.
Dareena frowned. “My safety? I’m not in any danger.” She glanced around the room. “Am I?”
“We have received word that the elven goddess is rescinding the dragon’s curse as penance for the insults you and Alistair have suffered at the hands of the elves,” Shadley said. “We must only wait until your babe is born for the curse to end.”
“I…what?” Dareena’s emerald eyes widened, and she clutched at Alistair to keep from falling off the chair. “The curse is being lifted? That is wonderful.”
“Yes, it is,” Alistair said, tightening his arms around her. “We will finally be free, and the Dragon’s Gift line will end with you, my love.” He nuzzled her neck. “But if you or the babe should die before you give birth, the curse will remain unbroken. Shadowhaven will have already thought of this, and will do everything in their power to make sure our child is never born.”
Dareena’s face paled. “You think they will send assassins in the night to kill me?”
“We have already discovered spies amongst our armies,” Drystan said grimly. “It is possible there are some in the castle as well. We will do our best to ferret them out, but we cannot take any chances. Until the babe is born, you must not leave the Keep, and you must be accompanied by at least two of your ladies at all times.”
Dareena scowled. “At all times?” she protested. “Drystan, I can hardly stand to be around them for more than a few hours! And really, they can hardly protect me anyway. I do have some magic now—I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. The only one stronger than me is Lyria, who wouldn’t lift a finger if someone came to slit my throat. She hates me that much.”
“You’re right,” Drystan said. “Of course your ladies are not sufficient protection. We’ll also assign two guards to trail you indoors at all times.”
Dareena bit her lip. “I understand the need to keep me indoors, even if I don’t like it. But there are already guards everywhere, Drystan. I don’t need four people trailing my every move.”
“Please,” Alistair said, turning Dareena in his lap so she faced him. His face was the picture of concern—he was the right person to soothe Dareena, Drystan thought. He himself was brimming with frustration at her lackadaisical atti
tude. “I know that you are not a child to be coddled, but you are carrying our child, and the future of our race, as well. This is only a temporary measure to ensure both of your safety. Once we’ve won this war, things will go back to normal.”
“And when will that be?” Dareena asked, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room. “It seems that with every day that passes, Shadowhaven’s grip on us tightens further. Soon, they will suffocate us. What can we do to beat them back? They’ve kidnapped Basilla—can we kidnap their prince? Would that force King Wulorian to parlay with us?”
“It is not as easy as that,” Shadley said wearily. “Prince Mordan is a nasty piece of work, but he is not stupid, and is fairly powerful for a warlock. It would cost many lives to take him, and we may not be able to hold him.”
Dareena sighed, sinking back into Alistair’s embrace. “What do we know about Shadowhaven’s royal family? Is there anything else we can use against them?”
“The current warlock king obtained his crown under suspicious circumstances,” Tariana explained. “The previous king, Wulorian’s uncle, and his cousin, the heir, both died in quick succession, supposedly of heart failure. Given Wulorian’s record since, it is more likely that he murdered them. He and his wife have no love lost between them—they only had the one son, and she was soon exiled to a remote castle in the mountains. I believe she far prefers it there.” Tariana shook her head in sympathy. “I probably would too, if I were forced to marry such filth.”
