Burn (Dragon Souls)

by Fletcher, Penelope

  His mouth opened then closed with a snap.

  “Please don’t be upset.” She touched his shoulder timidly. He sat rigid rather than relaxed as usual. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “You’re still my trainer and a confidante. You’re family.”

  Daniil tried for levity but his smile reflected the aching sadness he carried inside.

  Underneath the pleasant façade, he knew she used this to force distance between them.

  He wasn’t ignorant of the fact it was needed.

  “Then as your trainer,” he said, “I beg you return to the Citadel and rest. The Eldernmoot and their Battle Mage guard approach the Kingdom boundaries. They will be here at daybreak. I would have you safe inside the fortress by then.”

  “I will be. Besides, I have Prokopiy coming for breakfast. Will you be joining us? It’d be good to see you before we greet the Desert People.”

  Laughing, his brows lifted. “I will join you, but I advise you cease that way of thinking. There is no way Koen will allow you within yelling distance of this gathering.”

  “We’ll see. Is Boy lurking nearby?” She was unashamedly hopeful.

  “He was with Koen until news came of Anastasia crossing the finish. He simply said you were fine then disappeared as he does.” Daniil shrugged. “Naturally Koen became diverted by news of the lagoon being frozen.” His searching look was intense. “Care to explain?”

  Her heart sank at the news Boy was off again. So many problems, she thought, and so little time to solve them. “Just a little magick.”

  “Ah.”

  Jakob and the Ryu males proudly escorted her back to the Red Citadel.

  The journey was loaded with the unsaid.

  Daniil had made a lame excuse and quit the marquee soon after Marina informed him Jakob was taking his place, and she had politely yet firmly refused to speak more of what happened during the second quest.

  She begged to be taken back to the Ryu apartments so that she might rest and be ready for the delegation coming to discuss why they sent warriors to abduct her.

  The more Marina thought about it, the more she was convinced they had been looking for answers about her adopted son. Especially considering what Elder Khan had told her of Boy’s parentage.

  She swiftly excused herself when they entered the cosy main room, and shut herself away in the lovely chamber Sevastyan insisted she have.

  Alone at last, she spent a shocking amount of time staring agog at the wall, allowing the full impact of what happened to filter through now she was assured complete privacy behind a locked door.

  The longer she remained still and silent the greater the restless feeling within her grew.

  Marina prodded at the bundle of raw emotion lodged deep within.

  The slumbering presence rumbled dangerously, stirred uneasily.

  Shuddering, she rubbed her prickling arms. Gathering her courage she aimed another prod at the nameless entity.

  It clawed her back.

  She felt a distinct sense it was pleased she finally acknowledged its existence.

  Unlocking the cage in her mind, she eased the door open, giving the creature a little leeway to stretch its legs.

  Her eyes burned.

  Her hands flew to her face then jerked away at the scorching heat pouring from her eye sockets.

  Running to the polished circle of bronze mounted on the stone wall that acted as a mirror, she drew so close her nose pressed onto the cold metal and peered into her own eyes.

  As she watched her pupils wobbled then contracted to oval slits. The rounds of her irises expanded until they blotted out the whites of her eyes completely.

  A queer tingling raced up and down her body, and her heart pounded erratically. Her chest rose and fell steeply as she gasped for breath. Sweat slicked her nape and dampened her palms. Her skin felt too tight, ready to split and peel. Intense heat poured from her head, and her throat burned as she coughed wispy curls of dark grey smoke.

  Her mind grew hazy, and there were less conscious thoughts. A primeval rhythm of growls and hisses echoed in her ears.

  A single knock on the door had her squealing, and jumping a foot in the air. Irritation shot through her hot and fast. Hadn’t she expressed a desire to be alone? When the feeling didn’t subside, but grew in ferocity she checked it, and forcibly pushed the overpowering emotion away.

  Since when are you so senselessly aggressive?

  Running a shaky hand through her messy hair, she decided suffering in silence wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. As she crossed the room, a terrible rage descended upon her at the thought of her territory being invaded.

  She flung it open only to succumb to heart-wrenching relief.

  Marina grabbed the hem of Boy’s tunic and dragged him into the room.

  Shutting the wooden door and sliding the rusted bolt home, she pressed her back against it.

  They stared at each other.

  Boy reached out a hand then retreated it, his expression wary. “Marina?”

  “I have a secret,” she blurted. Of all the things she had to say to him, talking of her own problems seemed narcissistic, yet somehow it felt the right thing to do.

  Boy blinked. Clearly this was not what he expected after avoiding her for so long. His small face was solemn. “As we all do.”

  Sidetracked, his troubles truly never far from her mind, Marina’s brows plunged. “You keep a lot from me, don’t you?”

  “I do not wish to hurt you.”

  Rather than reply, she shuffled to the bed and crawled onto it. She sat forlornly in the middle and waited for him to join her.

  “This secret has to do with Aver?” he asked.

  Silent, she leaned over and lifted his scrawny legs onto the covers. Slipping his boots off, she tossed them into the corner with her own.

  Mystified by this behaviour, yet sensing her need to tend to him, Boy let her arrange his legs comfortably on the bed, her face intense in its concentration. When she’d finished, she plucked at dried mud on his leathers.

  “I suppose we could trade secrets. That would bring us closer, wouldn’t it?” Her hands stilled on his knees. “I want you to trust me as I trust you.” She peered at him past her lowered lashes, almost shy. “So here’s what I’ll do. I’ll trust you to tell me of your problems when you’re ready. Okay? I’ll keep Koen and everyone of your back until you’re ready to talk.”

  He touched the back of her hand.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to show you.” She looked at him then, expression pained. “Not even Mikhail.”

  Boy had heard they’d argued bitterly, knew it was the reason she moved them into the lower levels of the fortress.

  His feelings were confused, and his loyalties tangled. He didn’t know about lying to the male who accepted him so readily, who made him feel like family.

  “Grandfather will know I keep something from him.”

  “Then I can’t tell you.” Marina slumped. She dry washed her face. “Maybe that’s for the best. You’d think I was crazy anyway.”

  “No.” Eager to connect and reassure her, Boy pushed passed his own fears of closeness and scooted closer, allowed himself to feel comfortable with her in his personal space. “Tell me. If Grandfather asks I shall tell him another secret. I swear it.”

  Marina plucked at her lip. She thrust her face into his.

  Boy didn’t flinch. He was coming to understand she’d rather die than harm him.

  “Look at my eyes,” she said.

  He did. They were lovely, the colour of rich mahogany. “I see nothing.”

  “Keep watching.” Marina’s face creased in pain. “See it?”

  As he watched, her irises glowed and her pupils lengthened into ovals the colour of onyx.

  Startled, he jerked away and fell off the bed.

  Trance of concentration broken by the noise, Marina blinked, her eyes not reverting back to normal, but remaining dual glit
tering slits.

  Twisting her fingers into the coverlet, she waited for him to crawl back onto the bed.

  Pale, he grabbed her head to tilt it toward the candlelight. “You have Dragon eyes.”

  “And blue blood.”

  “Like Grandfather.”

  She murmured, “Well, like Dragons.”

  “How?” he breathed. He let her go and settled on his bottom. He wrapped his arms around his knees. “How did you do that? Did Elder Khan teach you magick?”

  “He was a Battle Mage a long time ago,” she reminded. “He’s a healer now. Remember the people here will fear him, and shun him if they think he’s a warrior, and a threat.” She studied him carefully, making sure her warning got through. “No one taught me magick. Apart from you and the Dragon Lords, I don’t know anybody who uses magick.”

  Boy paled. “I–I am not–”

  She patted his knee and chose not to reveal she could feel the swirls of power surrounding him. “I know. That thing you do with your dagger, making it disappear into thin air, is just a trick, right?” She winked. “Remember, until you’re ready.”

  Boy swallowed and his gaze drifted away from her as his face tinged with colour. “Yes.” After a diffident breather, he looked confused and a little hurt. “But why? I know the Mages are coming and I thought you would,” he fidgeted, uncomfortable, “force me to tell you about what I can do.”

  “Do you want to go with them if they’re here for you?” she asked briskly. “And I say if.”

  Swallowing, he shook his head.

  “Then you stay here – with me. Nothing they say, or give in trade, could ever make me give you up. Not only do you have me, Koen wouldn’t let it happen.” She paused. “Remember we’re assuming the Eldernmoot are here because of you. They might not be.”

  He looked wholeheartedly relieved as his gaze dropped. His grip on his knees loosened. “How did you set the spear on fire if you have not been taught battle magick?”

  Thinking back to the ice wolves, Marina cringed.

  Shrugged.

  “Have you not spoken to Lord Kol? He is your trainer.”

  “I only saw the blue blood for a split second. Then I fainted. I thought it was a hallucination from blood loss. Elder Khan said nothing about my blood looking strange when he tended me.” Her shoulders jerked helplessly. “I thought I imagined it.”

  He pointed to his face. “Your eyes?”

  “I figured out I could do that about five seconds before I dragged you into this room.”

  She omitted explaining about the homicidal, lusty voice in her head. He was a child after all.

  Boy exhaled shakily. “We need help. I know you are fighting, but tell Grandfather. He will know what to do.”

  She softened the immediate and violent response from the otherness to a sharp headshake. “He’s on the Dragon Council. This will be the kind of thing he is not allowed to keep from them, long lost daughter or not.”

  “Lord Kol then.”

  “You can call him Daniil, you know.”

  “He does not like me.”

  She tossed him a sharp look.

  There had been times Daniil’s thoughts and attitude toward her son had been less than affectionate, but he’d never said or done anything within earshot of the child to prompt such a statement.

  Had he?

  “Why do you say that?” At his refusal to answer, she used a finger to tip his chin up. His eyes slid from hers. “Boy?”

  He shrugged.

  Letting it go, she waved away the idea of speaking to Daniil. “He’s already up my butt about how I behave around Koen Raad. He’ll lose the plot if he thinks something odd will happen to distract me during a quest. He’ll tell Koen, who will completely freak out, and probably try hiding me in a cave somewhere surrounded by a lava moat.”

  “Maybe that is the right thing.” He cast her a worried glance. “We do not know what is happening to you.”

  Marina itched her arm.

  Say it.

  Speak aloud just once.

  “I think....” Her head lowered. She confessed in a choked rush, “I think I might be a Dragon.”

  Boy stared, aghast. “There are no Dragon Ladies. Only Dragon Lords.”

  “There are female wild ones,” she pointed out hoarsely, desperate to make sense of it.

  “This is not possible.”

  “Why?”

  Boy swept out an arm. “There have been no others.”

  Marina knew then whom she had to talk to. History recorded two previous High Princess before her, female offspring of Phoenixes.

  A memory surfaced of when she first came to Tzion and met the Dragon Council.

  She smiled grimly. “See, I don’t think that’s quite accurate.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Banging on the door interrupted them.

  Marina scowled, about to ignore it, but....

  Harder, louder knocks.

  The otherness was aware, but in no way aggressive. It became excited.

  Even if that hadn’t told her who was the owner of the knock, the way the door rattled on its rusted hinges did.

  Boy warily eyed the shaking wood. “Shall I–”

  Sighing, Marina rolled off the bed.

  She tossed Boy his boots.

  Letting her rump hit the mattress, she tugged on her own, stomped them on the floor to adjust the fit then smiled ruefully as she ruffled Boy’s hair.

  The golden spirals were silk beneath her palms. Rather than shove her away he sat docilely under her petting. It was a satisfying moment they both found pleasant in different ways.

  Marina tended to her son as much as he would let her. She wished he would close the distance between them and tell her what was going on his head, so she could support him. He had to learn to come to her with his problems. She couldn’t always be there to drag it out of him, nor did she want him to be so dependant in this often-heartless society.

  The knocks became steady thumps interspersed with pissed off growls.

  “Peace and privacy,” Marina muttered, “should be currency in this world.”

  Pushing onto her feet, she winked over her shoulder at her son who rose to cloak himself within the shadowy umbra.

  Mind briefly flittering over gloomy thoughts of Kings, Queens, Dragon Lords and Ladies, she dragged back the locked bolt.

  Koen’s closed fist shot through the open door to clamp down on her throat. “Ice? Jakob?” His voice was inhuman, an animalistic snarl edged with such menace he barely articulated. “Truly, female?”

  Surprisingly, he wasn’t unclothed considering the raw heat pouring from his flesh telling her he’d shifted from Dragon moments ago.

  Spicy, masculine scent spangled across her senses.

  He wore a swathe of leather slung around his narrow hips, and his immense chest was naked, scarred, and tanned until it resembled hammered bronze.

  Her gaze raked down his wide shoulders, skated hungrily over rigid abdominals, and lingered at the evidence of emotional arousal bleeding into a hard, jutting physical need.

  The otherness coiled for attack. Go for the throat, it urged as it wound itself tighter around her primal core, tendrils of its spirit weaving and connecting with dormant branches of her psyche. Take him inside.

  Shaking off the desire to fight this male for dominance – the first inclination of how savage that battle would be scaring the shit out of her – Marina softened under the domineering grip.

  His fingers flexed, dangerously gentle but firmly pressing, warning her not to push.

  Paradoxically, she felt frightened and exhilarated.

  Moving steadily, vigilant his predatory gaze tracked everything she was, from emotion, to movement, to scent, she placed her palm on the side of his neck, right over his throbbing pulse, a subtler, but just as proprietary touch.

  “Are you going to calm for me, so we can talk?” she asked.

  The main room was filled with their people – all conspicuously sta
ying beyond the immediate reach of the Dragon King’s wrath.

  “Or is your plan to bellow incoherently and make my headache worse?”

  Stiffening, Koen’s beast retreated. It remained very present in his gemstone eyes.

  They glowed with banked flames.

  “You will stay in my chamber now.” His voice was a low rasp. The Dragon’s growl had diminished, leaving behind a souvenir of possessive fury. “I will guard my Treasure day and night. No one will touch but me.” He drew in a long breath, filling up on her. “No one will speak to you or look at you. All mine.”

  This was nothing but an instinctive reaction to the stress she’d put on his usually imperturbable nerves. He was defaulting to dealing with her the only other way he knew – forcing complete submission.

  Had he come at her with the same fever-bright intensity directly after the quest, she might’ve let the otherness take over.

  It would have been a pointless brawl where he’d try pining her to slake his lust as she tried ripping his beautiful bastard face off.

  But she’d had time to sleep, time to think.

  All Koen needed was to hold her and realise she was safe. Feeling the solidarity of their love would ground him. His beast would be purring in the end and trying – as a respectable male would – to get in her pants and prove he was capable of loving her so fiercely she’d struggle to walk straight.

  “Is there an alternate option?” she asked silkily.

  Her soft acquiesce and gentle teasing worked.

  He calmed, gained control.

  Adjusting his hold so it was a rough caress sliding down her throat to boldly cup her breast, Koen pressed closer and pinned her to the doorframe.

  He nodded, stiff, hectic colour brightening his rugged face.

  Eyes smiling, her resistance melted and she wrapped an arm around his waist. Though highly sexed, he was actually being amicable if he’d originally considered more than the option of imprisoning her his room – much like gold locked in a vault.