Dance of the Dragon Sorceress [Tangere Tales 3] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting)

by Heather Rainier

  What is it? Lord Violet asked through their mental link, reaching out to steady him, even though Zayrgrud now towered over him by a foot.

  Elaina. I’ve felt in a hurry to get to her since I landed. I thought it was just because I’m hungry or because I was worried about her earlier. But something is wrong. I can’t feel her anymore.

  They hastened to the peaked archway beneath the huge staircase, and Bleu barreled into them as they passed beneath it.

  “Lord Violet! Zayr—” Bleu gasped for breath. “Your Highness, Lord Violet, you must come quickly. Mon Dieu! The apples—Elaina—Basile—the pies—and Tiggi!”

  Lord Violet stopped him. “Breathe, man. You’re not making any sense. Start again.”

  Bleu shook his head and nodded and then gestured for them to follow him. “The apples that were delivered the other day are poisoned. Elaina and Basile have both eaten from them and fallen as though dead. And they can’t awaken Tiggi.”

  Zayrgrud left them in his wake. The knot grew heavy in his throat, and he could barely breathe as he rushed to the kitchen. He couldn’t lose his mother-figure, not when she had given so much of herself to teach him and nurture him.

  The scene that met his eyes was utter chaos. The others backed away to make room for him in the smaller confines of the kitchen, and he crouched over Elaina and Basile.

  He looked up at Lord Violet and saw the warning in his eyes. Zayrgrud, you can’t. I said nothing after what happened yesterday with Rainger and Fermin, but if you attempt this, stunting your growth will be the least of your problems. We need you. Your people need you.

  Sheathing his claws carefully, Zayrgrud lifted Elaina into one arm. You know I can’t let them go. Not if there is a chance that I can save them. Have Bleu bring Tiggi in here, as well. I’ll never fit in her chamber.

  “Zayrgrud!” Lord Violet cried out loud. “Your Highness, you mustn’t. All is lost without you. We can’t fight Draconia alone.”

  All is lost for Elaina if I can’t save her. And she loves him, Violet. She is worth fighting for. Do what you must, while I do what I must.

  The white light of healing filled the back of his mind and kindled a blaze beneath his skin. He wouldn’t say as much to Violet because he understood what was at stake, but nothing mattered to him if he couldn’t save her and save her heart’s desire.

  He looked at Rainger and forged a nascent link with him. I will save the one you love. Make sure she knows how much I appreciate what she did for me. Make sure she knows I can love because she taught me what the word means.

  Bewilderment filled Rainger’s eyes at the mental intrusion, but he nodded. I believe you can do this. When it is all finished, I will make sure your people know how brave and selfless you were. You will be a tremendous leader to them some day.

  Lord Violet gave orders, and the knights and servants flew around them to obey as Zayrgrud held Elaina’s limp body in one arm and scooped up Basile’s body with the other. The light filled him to overflowing and then spilled over into them.

  He was vaguely aware of Violet calling out to the fae Selena while Fermin and one of the others lowered another limp form to right beside him. He didn’t sense the poison as strongly in Tiggi, and he nestled her close enough to be touching him and sheltered them all beneath his spread wings.

  During instruction, Lord Violet had told him that dragons were naturally inclined to avoid emotion and to compartmentalize relationships and responsibilities. That was not to say that they had no feelings, just that they had their place and their portion, which was small because nature was cruel. Living and dying was easier without the encumbrance of affection.

  It could be extrapolated that some of his people might think him weak because he knew what love was. But the ever-increasing glow inside of him, emanating outward to his mother figure and one of the men she loved, had its source from such love. In his eyes that made him damn near invincible.

  * * * *

  Elaina woke slowly, the rhythm of her heartbeat timed perfectly with the pounding ache in her skull. She knew she wasn’t alone because of the whisper of male voices around her. Unlike earlier that morning, she knew exactly where she was because she recognized Basile’s and Rainger’s voices first.

  Basile sounded tired, but his velvety baritone did much to soothe the ache in her head. She could hear the smile in Rainger’s bass tone, and she smiled herself as she drifted between dreams and wakefulness before oblivion claimed her once more.

  When she awoke again, it was to the sensation of ravenous hunger and the sound of her stomach growling.

  “Well, that has to be a good sign,” Basile murmured, and the bed trembled on her left as a hand gently stroked her cheek. He chuckled when another gastric howl came in answer.

  She blinked, or tried to. Either the room was darkened or her eyes were gummed shut. Her throat felt the same when she tried to reply, and all that came out was “Ahr-ahr-ahr,” and even that was a tiny whisper.

  On her right, the bed trembled again, and arms carefully lifted her until she leaned against a warm, solid body and the cool rim of a cup was pressed to her lips. The kiss of water on her lips and tongue made her moan and take the cup with shaky hands.

  “Carefully, sorceress. Just a little for now,” Rainger whispered to her before kissing her temple.

  “No. More,” she growled like a subhuman as her parched throat let her know how thirsty she really was.

  “She’s more awake this time. Let her have a bit more,” Basile said with the hitch of a chuckle in his voice.

  “What happened to me?” she asked once she’d drained the cup. The water even felt cool going down into her stomach. “Was I sick?” she asked as she rubbed at her eyes. They felt like sandpaper, and when she groaned, one of the men gently stopped her.

  “Do you remember eating the apple?” Rainger asked as he placed the cup between her hands again and helped her hold it steady to her lips. “It’s warm broth. Sip it slowly.”

  “Broth? I must’ve been pretty sick. What apple?”

  “We were in the kitchen, and you were telling me a story,” Basile said, blotting her chin when she spilled a bit of the broth. Her hands were so damned shaky, and she couldn’t understand why.

  She handed them the cup, and they eased her back down onto the pillow. Her brain hurt when she tried to remember. “Apple?”

  “We took you up to the dome to show you the view, and while we were there, you saw Zayrgrud—”

  “Yes, while he was at his training. I saw him flying, and he’d grown a little more.”

  “Then we came downstairs to eat,” Basile continued. “You peeled one of the apples and bit into it, and I took a bite from one, as well.”

  Her eyes finally began to tear up, and one of the men blotted her cheeks and she gratefully took the cloth he used. The flames flickering in the fireplace gradually came into focus, and then she looked around the room. No light filtered through the heavy cloth drapes over the window, so it must be nighttime. There was no one else in the room with them, and she was super glad of that when the sheet and blanket fell into her lap, revealing that she was naked.

  “Where are my clothes? I need to get up,” she murmured as she tried to scoot out of the bed, but she was blocked by male bodies on either side.

  “Give yourself a little more time, sorceress,” Rainger said. “Just until we tell you what has happened. Then we’ll get your clothing and even help you dress—although everyone is either resting or on watch right now.” The shadows under Rainger’s eyes were pronounced as if he’d not gotten much rest lately, and his beard had grown in, dark red and gold in the flickering light. He was clad in only a thin linen tunic and soft, worn breeches, and his feet were bare.

  “Tell me what happened,” she said as she accepted the cup filled with the savory warm broth again. “You said we both ate apples.”

  “Yes. They were poisoned. You and Basile collapsed after eating a bite,” Rainger said as he wrapped her soft mandala cloth aro
und her shoulders. “The apples were sent by Draconia, and we didn’t realize it when they were brought inside.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “I brought the sack in when we found Odie, um, Fermin beaten and bruised at the front gate.”

  “Our focus was completely on you that afternoon when we returned to the abbey,” Basile said, a trace of guilt in his tone. “We should’ve been on our guard, but we weren’t. All I could think of was spending time with you.”

  “You weren’t the only one,” she murmured as her mind churned up the sweet memories of that day.

  Rainger said, “But the burden was on us to be watchful for signs of her infiltration, especially once the heir to the dragon’s throne was in residence.”

  Basile took one of her hands between his own and said, “It was a dereliction of duty, and had we taken the time to inspect the apples, we would’ve noticed there was a difference between them and the farm-grown apples we usually purchase for the abbey larder. They were perfect, completely unblemished, and no one stayed to receive payment for them. We don’t expect the farms and villages of the forest to provide us with food without repayment.”

  “So that would’ve been a red flag.”

  “I assume you mean a signal of alarm. Yes, it would. Had we discovered them in time, they would’ve been burned and no one would’ve been harmed. As I was saying, when we came back upstairs after our time in the hot spring pools and found Fermin’s canine tangere in such a state—”

  “And then Draconia tried to execute Rainger. I remember that.”

  “In the midst of all that unfolding, no one thought to question the origin of the apples, which had, by that time, been taken to the cold-room. Tiggi made a pie with them, and she was stricken with the poison, too, but not as badly. She never sampled them, only peeled and sliced them for the pies she made.”

  While Basile spoke, bits and pieces of her memory started fitting into place.

  “I remember…we were all crowded into the kitchen, wanting to know where the food was. Fermin was wearing Tiggi’s apron and taking pies out of the oven. I cut a slice out of my apple and took a huge bite. It was really good, and you turned me down when I offered to let you use my knife to cut yours. You said you enjoyed listening to me moan about how good the apple was, but then you took a bite of yours. Someone hollered my name. Rainger?” she murmured, looking at him.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t remember anything after that. Did you get sick?” she asked of Basile as she reached for his heavily whiskered cheek. Her hands looked thin and frail, the tendons standing out, and her nails seemed longer.

  “I did. I woke up yesterday.”

  Looking more closely, she realized that he was clad in a robe-like garment and what probably passed for pajamas, a light tunic like Rainger’s and soft loose pants. “Yesterday? How long was I out for?”

  Rainger and Basile exchanged concerned glances, and Rainger finally said, “You ate the apple ten days ago.”

  “Ten days!” Her panting hurt her throat, which felt a little raw and understandably so.

  “We could barely get you to take any water or broth in all that time. We were so…” Rainger’s voice cracked, and he pressed her knuckles to his lips and his eyes closed. “I thought I’d lost my best friend and the woman I love.”

  “Love?” Elaina asked as she tugged her hand loose and wrapped it around his neck to pull him close. She tilted her head against his chest and heard the steady but rapid thrum of his heart and the gulp when he swallowed.

  “Yes, love. My heart was breaking, thinking I’d lost you. I did my best, with help from the others, to get water and broth into you.”

  “And my clothes?”

  He grinned and said, “I accidentally spilled broth on your—” He waved a hand at her upper body.

  “Plaid flannel shirt? Tank Top?”

  “Both of them.”

  “I needed to wash them anyway. But I’m naked. Like really naked under here.”

  “When I was undressing you, I realized that you wouldn’t rest as comfortably wearing all those clothes so I decided to remove them.”

  “Oh, really?” she asked with a giggle. “Was that fun for you?”

  Rainger managed a weak smile for her. “Trust me. Sex wasn’t even a glimmer in my mind. Anyway, I stayed with both of you, even if it was only to sleep while others watched over you. The knights were beside themselves, thinking you were going to wither away and die.”

  “I’m relieved that didn’t happen,” she said dryly. Once she got up and moving around again, it might feel good to be alive. Right then, ever muscle in her body ached and trembled, and even the work of sitting up made her feel weak as a new kitten. “So they helped you?”

  “They insisted that they could help—even Bleu the Irascible. He muttered under his breath all night while he sat with you, holding your hand. It was sad and pathetic but also rather sweet.”

  “He likes me after all.”

  “Of course he does. They all do, sorceress,” Basile said, stroking her neck. “I’m so relieved you’re awake and alive. But there are other things we need to tell you.”

  “Like what?”

  He climbed from the bed, moving slowly like an old man, a little hunched and stiff, but he smiled when he caught her watching him as he returned to the bed with a silver handheld mirror. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back to my old self in no time.”

  “What’s the mirror for?”

  “So you can see the change in you.”

  “Change?” Her heartbeat ticked up another notch as she accepted the mirror. “I’m afraid to look.” She peered at her hands and said, “Being out for ten days explains why my nails look a little longer, and dehydration could explain the thinness. What has changed? At least give me a hint. Am I disfigured?” She put a hand to her cheek.

  Basile took the mirror from her. “No, you’re not. Just changed. You’re even more beautiful in my eyes.”

  Oh, that’s what sympathetic people say when you’re disfigured for life.

  Rainger gave her an encouraging nudge. “It’s not a bad change, just look.”

  Basile held up the mirror, and she gasped when she saw her hair. It was disheveled from having lain on it for ten fricking days, and in need of a good thorough washing, but those issues barely registered. Her formerly jet-black hair was absolutely solid white. White as snow. Not a trace of black was left in it, even at the roots.

  “It’s white!”

  “And very beautiful. You should not have worried.”

  “It’s white!”

  “Yes, and very lovely, sorceress. Are you all right? I can’t tell if you’re upset or not.”

  “In the culture I come from, some women change their hair color with the same ease they color their fingernails and toenails. My black hair was natural. I liked it. But this?”

  “Perhaps Selena might know of a way to fix it?”

  “Are you kidding? I love it! Of all the things I have to be concerned about right now, my hair color ranks pretty low on the list. This? I don’t mind. At least my eyebrows are still dark.”

  “To be honest,” Rainger said, leaning forward, “I’m glad of that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Draconia has hair nearly as white as this, and her eyebrows are frosty white. Just the memory is enough to ‘give me the willies,’ as you say.”

  “Well, then I’m glad I kept the dark ones. And what the hell?” she asked as she peered into the mirror more closely and turned toward the light from the fire. “Could you bring a candle, please?”

  What the hell is up with this? Hair color is one thing—

  Rainger held a candle close, and she startled him when she looked up at him. “Elaina, your eyes!”

  “The hair change I can almost understand because I’ve heard trauma can do that. But my eyes are a different color.”

  Basile and Rainger exchanged bewildered looks, and then Rainger said, “Lord Violet might know why. Fermin’
s eyes stayed the same, and so did mine when Zayrgrud healed us. And Basile’s are the same, yes?” He peered at Basile and nodded when his friend leaned in close to reveal his eyes were the same shade of blue

  She closed her eyes, trying to remember what happened. How did a person’s eyes change in this world? Where had that amber color come from?

  She dropped the mirror in her lap and grabbed both of them by the arm. “Where is Flappy!”

  “Uhh…” Rainger began. He clearly didn’t want to answer.

  “Tell me! He healed us, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Where is he? Is he all right? Lord Violet told him he shouldn’t be exerting that kind of energy, not while he’s growing. What’s happened to him? Tell me!”

  “He is not here, Elaina,” Rainger began in a careful tone.

  “What do you mean he’s not here? What did he do? Is he still alive? Was he harmed? That big bird brain, he saved us and put himself at risk, didn’t he?”

  “Lord Violet tried to dissuade him, but Zayrgrud wouldn’t listen.” Rainger took her hand and replaced the mandala over her shoulder when it fell down. “Sorceress, he put everything he had into healing you.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked, panic making her voice shake.

  “We couldn’t stop him. To be honest, I was so shocked and worried I didn’t want him to stop. I was so afraid you were dead. He spread his wings over you and healed you. That is when your hair turned pure white.”

  “Where is he?” she enunciated.

  “Sit back, Elaina,” Basile said in a much-too-gentle tone. The kind of tone someone used when they were about to deliver really bad news.

  “Don’t you tell me he’s dead. Don’t you dare,” she said, her throat contracting as her voice broke and tears flooded her eyes. “Not Flappy!”

  Rainger let out a long breath. “I’ve made a mess of all of this. When I say he is not here, he is not in the abbey. He told me to tell you that he appreciated what you did for him. He said you had taught him what it means to love. He wanted you to know those things, just in case.”