by Jasmine Walt
“Oh no you don’t!” Dareena cried, summoning her whip to her fingertips. She lashed out and wrapped it around his wrists, binding them together. The warlock screamed as the burning whip cut off the blood flow to his hands, and Alistair’s nose wrinkled at the scent of burning flesh. Leaping across the table, he drew his knife and stabbed the side of the warlock’s neck, blood spraying over the woman seated to his left. She fainted in her chair as the dead warlock slumped sideways, his head mere inches from her skirts.
“Good riddance,” Alistair muttered, yanking the dagger from the dead man’s neck. He turned to face the rest of the council, who had been rendered mute with shock. “Is there anyone else who would like to contest the warlocks’ intentions?”
His challenge was met with deathly silence.
“Good,” Drystan said, standing up. “Now, let’s have everyone else strip-searched as well. I know it’s indecent,” he said before anyone could protest, “but we cannot continue this meeting until we are certain there are no more spies in our midst.”
To Alistair’s surprise, no one protested, not even the remaining women. Dareena and Rofana took them off to the corner to have them searched, while Alistair and Drystan took care of the men. To their relief, there were no other spies.
“This is an outrage,” one of the lords said when they were finally all seated again. “If that man was an imposter, then what happened to the real Lord Pharlis?”
“He was probably killed,” Drystan said gravely. “We shall have to inform his family that he is missing and do a search. With any luck, we may recover him alive.” The others looked stricken. “In the meantime, I would advise you not to meet with anyone you do not know alone, especially if it is someone you do not normally see. Take someone with you that you trust, and check everyone you meet to see if they are wearing any jewelry.”
The rest of the meeting was short and to the point. After the nasty shock they’d received, the council agreed to everything Drystan, Alistair, and Dareena said, including paying the reparations to the elves. Alistair shook his head as they adjourned, thoroughly exasperated at the council. If only it didn’t take the threat of death to get them to cooperate, they would be able to get so much more done…
23
After the council meeting, Dareena met privately with Rofana in her chambers. She managed to convince Drystan and Alistair to let her leave her ladies behind, taking two guards in lieu of them and posting them outside the doors. She deserved a moment of privacy with the oracle, she insisted, and they agreed. Besides, it wasn’t as if she were in any danger from the woman.
“I must say that I am very impressed with how you managed to keep a level head in the council meeting,” Rofana said as they sat on the couch, enjoying a cup of tea. “I imagine it must rankle you, the way they look down on you for your birth.”
Dareena laughed. “It does sometimes, but having my mates with me bolsters my confidence. I have to remind myself that their opinion is the only one that truly matters. The council is a valuable asset, but they are still secondary to the dragons.”
“I never expected to be standing amongst nobles in Dragon’s Keep,” Rofana said with wonder and sipped her tea. “Never mind ordering one of them to strip naked,” she added with a chuckle. “I didn’t even know I could use my voice to command a man to do something like that.”
Dareena winked. “Try not to take advantage. Although I think with your looks, you could get a man to do a great many number of things without having to force him.”
Rofana smiled. “I have had a few lovers since my husband’s death, but now that I am sworn in the service of the dragon god, I must be celibate.”
“That sounds quite different from what I am doing,” Dareena said with a wince. “You are no longer to marry, while I must marry not one but three dragons!”
They laughed together. “The dragon god may have vastly different plans for us, but I am content with my new path. Yes, I might miss the warmth of a man in my bed from time to time, but I far prefer the contentment of fulfilling my true purpose in life.”
“I imagine so,” Dareena said, though she had trouble wrapping her head around the idea of celibacy. It hadn’t been that long since she’d lost her virginity, but now that she’d enjoyed carnal pleasure beneath the skilled hands of her mates, she couldn’t imagine forgoing it. The very idea made her ache to go and hold them in her arms again.
“Drystan told me the two of you spent a lot of time straightening up the temple last night,” Dareena said. “I was saddened to hear it has fallen into such disarray—it is a beautiful place, even if it was being run by such a horrible man.”
Rofana nodded. “There is still much work to do, but it is coming along, and though the acolytes were a bit shocked when I was first introduced to them as their new oracle, I believe they are relieved to finally have steady leadership again. I will have to go back today—the temple should not be without its oracle for very long. Besides, I have asked Prince Drystan to send out a proclamation inviting the people of Dragonfell to make a pilgrimage to Targon Temple and renew their faith in the dragon god. I will not be able to see to all of them personally, but I intend to take a limited number of consultations. That is what the oracle is for, after all.”
“That is an excellent idea,” Dareena said. “By the time the wedding and coronation comes along, the people will know you, and word will spread throughout the kingdom that you are the true oracle.”
“It will take longer than that to convince everyone, but it will be a good start,” Rofana said. “Word has already spread about the imposter oracle—I imagine the people’s faith has been shaken significantly by that.” She shook her head. “That man has managed to do quite a bit of damage these past six years.”
Dareena bit her lip at that. “You know,” she said, “when I was in the library the other day, I ran across a purification spell that can supposedly purge a place of hostile magic, like the spell that killed my predecessor. Considering that the warlocks are doing everything in their power to infiltrate us, perhaps we should find a way to use it.”
Rofana’s eyes lit with interest. “I would like to see this spell,” she said. “Perhaps with the dragon god’s assistance, I can use it.”
“Of course. We’ll go right now.”
Dareena took the oracle to the library and had the librarian fetch the title she’d spoken of. “Yes,” Rofana murmured as she read the entry. “I believe this is within my power. I will need to consult the dragon god, and also collect the necessary herbs, but we can certainly perform the ritual.”
Dareena and the oracle discussed the spell a bit further and agreed to give it a try. The oracle promised to return in a week’s time, when they would also sit down and discuss the wedding and coronation ceremonies. They would have to create new ones for their situation, after all, and Dareena greatly looked forward to it.
24
The next morning, Lucyan and the other three recruits were called to Lord Byrule’s office to be briefed on the upcoming mission. They had just finished a grueling bout of training and had to hastily shower and change their clothing before meeting with the spymaster. Leager came out of the showers sporting a glare and a nasty bruise on his eye from Lucyan, who merely grinned at him. The two of them had been paired up as sparring partners, and though he’d still held back, he couldn’t help showing off a little when Leager got too smug.
“Don’t know why you had to give me a black eye,” the other recruit grumbled as he stalked past. “We’re supposed to be working together, aren’t we?”
“You’re right,” Lucyan said gaily as he whipped his towel off and hung it on the hook. “Next time you try to break my nose, I’ll just politely ask you to stop.”
He left the stewing Leager staring after him as he stepped beneath the shower spray and reveled in the hot water gushing from above him. These new-fangled hoses were another fantastic invention—instead of having to draw a bath and sit in your own dirty water while you tried to
clean yourself, you could simply stand under these manufactured hot streams and scrub yourself clean with a bar of soap. It was efficient, much faster, and Lucyan thought it might even use a bit less water.
When he was finished, he quickly dressed and combed his hair, then headed straight for the castle. Leager was already waiting, as was Tran, first in their class. For a moment, Lucyan bemoaned that he hadn’t been placed with Tran, who had a much milder temperament than Leager, and was in general easier to work with. But then he remembered he would likely have to kill his partner, and changed his mind.
Delara was the last one to arrive, her hair still damp from the shower. She was a bit late, but Lord Byrule didn’t seem to mind—likely because the top button of her uniform was open, showing a healthy amount of cleavage. Lucyan held in a snort as they sat down—the sergeant would have punished her severely for the uniform infraction, but Lord Byrule merely waved them into his office.
He supposed it was similar to how he could get most women to forgive him with one of his smiles, combined with just the right amount of flattery. As with cleavage, too much, and your target thought you were a sleaze, not worthy of attention. But if done right, she would giggle and blush and declare all your sins a thing of the past.
Not that such tactics worked on Dareena, he thought fondly. His mate had been a bit overwhelmed when he and his brothers had first started courting her, but she’d figured out all of them quickly enough. Lucyan had never thought he’d be wrapped around any woman’s finger, but he was more than happy to be wrapped around any part of Dareena.
Gods, he couldn’t wait to get back home.
“Suric, are you ready to join us?” Lord Byrule asked dryly. Lucyan blinked, focusing on the spymaster’s face. His eyebrows were raised, and the others were looking at him as well.
“Sorry,” Lucyan said blithely. “I’m afraid I didn’t get much sleep. Delara snores quite loudly.”
“I do not!” Delara protested as the others snickered.
Lord Byrule merely rolled his eyes. “If the four of you are ready to act like adults, I’d like to start the briefing.” He waited until their attention was on him before speaking again. “You are finished with your additional training and are now ready to embark upon the mission I selected you for. But before I give you the details, let me give you some background information first.”
Lucyan and the others sat up straighter. “As you may already know, Shadowhaven has been working on bringing both Dragonfell and Elvenhame down in secret. It would take far too long to tell you about all of the different operations in place, but by far the most important thing we did was sending in one of our agents to pose as their oracle. He spent years slowly turning the population against the dragons, and he also killed the previous Dragon’s Gift, which sent the former king into a spiral of madness.”
“Unfortunately, the princes got wise to this scheme. They unmasked our agent, who was forced to flee, and have chosen a new oracle. From what we know, this woman, Rofana, is legitimate, and she will begin doing everything in her power to bring favor back to the dragons. We must not let that happen.”
Lucyan kept his face carefully blank, hiding the rage that built in his chest. He already knew all of this, but sitting here while Lord Byrule admitted to it all, as if he were merely reading from a history text rather than telling him about atrocities committed against his people, was almost more than he could bear.
“Are you asking us to go in and sow discontent amongst the people?” Tran asked, his eyes glittering. Lucyan buried his disgust—these people had absolutely no regard for the innocents they were about to hurt.
Lord Byrule nodded approvingly. “That is exactly what we are going to do. But that is not the only goal we are after. When we targeted the Dragon’s Gift all those years ago, we made an error of judgment. We originally intended to kill the entire royal family and wipe out all the dragons, but unfortunately, the magic that protects their kind repelled the spell. We were unable to find a way around this, but we had thought that if we could kill the Dragon’s Gift this time around that we could prevent her from delivering her babe, and thus prevent Shalia’s Curse from being lifted.”
“Why isn’t she dead already, then?” Lucyan asked, making sure to hide the anger in his voice so that he merely sounded puzzled.
“Because the dragon babe in her belly is shielding her from the spell,” Lord Byrule said. “An unfortunate side effect of the pregnancy. The spell will work once she has given birth. However, we must eliminate her before that happens, or the dragons will rise again.”
Ice-cold horror rose in Lucyan’s chest, and he had to swallow back a wave of bile. “I assume there must be an agent within the Keep, one who has placed the spell?”
Lord Byrule nodded. “I cannot disclose the identity of the agent, of course, but know that she is quite close to the royal family. For now, she is merely serving the royals and awaiting further instructions, but as soon as the time is right, she will move against them. We want to stir up additional doubt and discontent before we strike. If the people are already against them when they are killed, it will look like they have brought this tragedy upon themselves, and the people will be less likely to rally against us when we come to occupy their territory. For all they know, they will think their god willed it.”
Lucyan bit back a snarl of rage at Byrule’s smirk.
“So this is where we come in, then?” Leager asked. His eyes were bright with excitement, his lips twisted into that cruel smile of his. “You wish for us to stir up the people before you strike at the royals?”
“Correct. Suric and Leager will be going to Dragonfell,” Byrule said, “and I will be sending Tran and Delara north to Elvenhame, on a similar mission. You may be in Dragonfell for quite some time—we thought it would be a simple matter to turn the princes against each other, especially since they are all in love with the same woman. But their brotherly bond is not so easily broken. Thankfully, we think we may be able to use the thing that binds them together to break them apart.” Byrule’s lips curled into a smile that was pure evil. “I cannot wait to watch those scaly bastards fall.”
Lucyan pulled in a slow breath through his nostrils, trying to control his heart rate. He asked a few more questions as the spymaster continued to brief them, hoping to learn more about this plan to bring down his family, but he could get nothing useful. Lord Byrule tasked them with spreading rumors amongst the common folk that the Dragon’s Gift’s child was not by the dragons, but begot by some human lover before she even met them.
“She is a professional courtesan,” Lord Byrule said, “willing to spread her legs for anyone for a price.”
“Maybe we should invite some of them to go to the Keep and try their luck,” Leager snickered.
Lord Byrule chuckled. “That’s not bad. You’ll also spread about some scurrilous tales about the princes, such as how their disloyalty was what drove the old king mad. Perhaps even throw in some threats about the princes planning to use the humans as livestock—one of the princes has been seen torching bandits in the countryside, so it wouldn’t be that hard to spin the story into one where the princes have a taste for human flesh. Keep in mind,” Byrule warned, “that if you tell these tales directly too many times, people may become suspicious of your motives. It is far better that you are ‘overheard’ talking to each other.”
Lord Byrule then briefed Delara and Tran on their mission before sending Lucyan and Leager off with a junior agent, who made them practice slandering the dragons. At first, Lucyan had a hard time with it—after all, he was insulting himself, his mate, and his brothers—but after the first few tries he convinced himself it was just an act, and managed to pull it off.
“That will do, for now,” Lord Byrule said, who’d come in to watch. “But you two must practice on the road—and especially you, Suric,” he said to Lucyan.
Lucyan bowed his head. “I will do my best,” he vowed, looking sideways at Leager. He couldn’t wait to get on the road so
he could finally give this slimy weasel his comeuppance.
But first, there was still one more thing left to do.
25
After Dareena and Drystan saw the oracle off—Alistair was personally escorting her back to Targon Temple, as it was far too dangerous to send her off by herself—Dareena returned to the library to check out the accounts of previous wedding and coronation celebrations. Rantissa was off today, and Soldian was useless for scholarly tasks, so she took Lyria and two of the guards with her.
“Look!” Lyria came out of the stacks carrying a bundle of books. “I found a set of diaries and ledgers devoted entirely to event planning.”
“Excellent.” Dareena took one of the books from the pile in Lyria’s hands, then motioned her to sit at the desk next to her. “We’ll go through these together.”
As they pored through the records, Dareena marveled at the contented silence, which held none of the animosity she usually expected from Lyria. The dragon born was completely absorbed in the account she was reading.
“We are definitely not doing a small wedding,” she declared a few minutes later. “There is more than one place where the writer stresses the importance of involving everyone and making it a once-in-a-lifetime experience for commoners and nobles alike.”
“My mates have already convinced me,” Dareena said. “We’ll need to come up with ways to get the commoners involved—we will invite some of them, of course, but they can’t all fit into the Keep.”
They spent the next thirty minutes in hushed discussion, going over various details, sketching out a rough schedule of events, and making a list of additional items the steward would need to order. These events were such lavish affairs, Dareena thought with some dismay, and they normally took over a year of planning. They would have their hands full trying to get everything done in just a few short months.
