by Rebecca York
“Not as far to walk as the first time I escaped,” she said. “We cut out miles of mountainside.”
He laughed. “And lived to tell of it.”
When he came to a stand of small saplings, he cut one with his knife, stripped off the extra branches and used a vine to tie the knife to the shaft, making a spear.
“We can catch fish with this,” he said.
“And eat them raw?”
“You’ve never eaten raw fish?”
She made a face.
“Some think it a delicacy. You’ll appreciate it if you’re hungry enough.”
She found their next meal, a plant her people used for greens. They both chewed on stalks as they rested.
Rowan turned her head toward him. “We’ll have to think of a story about who we are.”
“Man and wife,” he said. “A soldier and his helpmeet who heals with herbs. We were captured by bandits and barely escaped with our lives, but we lost all our money and possessions.”
She dragged in a sharp breath.
“You want me for your wife?”
“Unless you won’t have me.”
“You know I will,” she answered, reaching for him and hugging him tightly. Yet even as she held him, she knew that the path ahead of them would not be easy.
“What are you thinking?” he asked as he felt her tense. Easing away he looked into her eyes.
“That you’re taking on a woman who could be branded as a witch if anyone discovered her powers. A woman who can put you in danger.”
“We’ll learn to manage,” he said, and she hoped he was right.
When they reached a small stream, they both stopped for a drink. Grantland looked up, shading his eyes from the sun where it sank toward the trees. “It will be dark soon. With no blankets, we’ll have to make a shelter.”
Again he cut more saplings, forming them into the roof of a crude hut. When he began covering the structure with small branches, Rowan helped.
He was cutting more branches to make a bed when a shadow crossed over them.
She looked up and gasped when she saw what it was.
Chapter Ten
Grantland followed her gaze. Above them a winged shape circled in the sky. It was a dragon, perhaps the same dragon that had almost killed them a few days earlier.
He snatched up the spear that he’d made and turned in a circle, watching the creature. “Get into the shelter.”
“No. I fought him with stones before. I used my power to make them fly more swiftly. I can do it again. You can help. Give me your power the way you did when we jumped.”
He looked torn, but he followed her to the riverbank, where they both gathered stones into a pile. Grantland stood over her with the spear, clutching it in two hands as the monster circled.
Fire shot from its mouth as it descended.
“Into the water,” Grantland called, and they both leaped into the stream, crouching down as the dragon flew toward them.
Grantland wedged the spear into the river bottom, holding it with one hand and grabbing Rowan’s left hand with his right.
As the monster came swooping toward them, they both ducked low into the water.
When the dragon was almost upon them, Rowan sprang up, hurling a stone at its snout, using mental force, and Grantland struggled to lend her extra power.
He heard the stone whistle through the air, then strike the beast in the face.
As the monster roared, Grantland sprang up, striking at its mouth with the spear, drawing blood. The beast shrieked, and flew into the air, sending a spray of fire onto the wooden shelter, setting it instantly on fire. Then he rose, circling back, coming around for another attack.
As it descended, Grantland saw something that made his blood freeze.
A second dragon was coming toward the first, a terrifying cry bellowing from its throat. He kept his gaze fixed on it while he pulled Rowan in back of him.
As the second behemoth beast drew closer, his breath caught. On the dragon’s back was a slender rider wearing a helmet and light armor.
Grantland had seen such a thing, ten years earlier. Now he stared in shock as the two dragons circled each other. But the first was already wounded by the spear. It screeched and flapped away, leaving them with the second dragon and the rider.
Rowan’s voice quavered. “What happened?”
“I think we’ll be all right.”
The beast landed on the creek bank, and the rider climbed nimbly down, pulling at the helmet.
As it came free, long blond hair spilled out, and Grantland stared in shock at the woman standing before him. He’d suspected it might be his sister. Now he knew it was true.
“Devon?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Where have you been all this time?”
“With this dragon. His name is Galladar, and he will not harm you.”
Rowan looked from him to the woman and back again. “Your sister? But how?”
“Magic,” Devon answered. “Come out of the water.”
They did and the dragon blew gently on them, drying their clothing. When it was finished, it began to change, shrinking in size, its limbs contorting and its shape transforming to that of a man who stood naked and unembarrassed before them.
Devon took clothing from the pack she carried on her back. While the man dressed, she rushed to her brother, and they embraced.
“It’s been so long,” she murmured.
“And I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you where I was.”
He studied her face. “You look exactly the same.”
“Being with Galladar keeps me young.” She took a step back and looked at Grantland. “But you’ve grown up. You were a boy when I left. Now you’re a man.”
“With a wife,” he said, putting a protective arm around Rowan, who was taking it all in.
“I know why you left Arandal,” Devon said.
“How?”
“Galladar told me.”
“Sometimes I visit the castle,” the dragon said.
“I haven’t seen you,” Grantland challenged.
“Nobody does, unless I wish it. But I’ve witnessed your father’s cruelty and his arbitrary ways.”
“Yes,” Grantland answered.
“No more,” Devon said.
Grantland turned to her in shock. “What do you mean?”
“He’s dead. From apoplexy. While he was screaming at his men, ordering them to find you, he fell over dead.”
He stared at her, trying to take that in.
“He died as he lived. Angry and giving orders. You are the king of Arandal now, and your subjects are frantically looking for you.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again. “Is that really true?” he finally said.
“Yes. You must go back,” Devon said. “They need you.”
When Grantland started to speak, Galladar raised his hand, palm outward. “I’ve watched you. You’ll be a far better ruler than Wilfred ever was. And your people are in great need. That dragon sought to kill you because he saw an opportunity. He is like me. He can change to human form, and he thought to capture the throne for himself after your father weakened the kingdom. You must go back and secure your position as the rightful ruler.”
Grantland took in the words, shocked.
Beside him, Rowan spoke. “But he came after me first.”
“Because he knew Grantland was nearby and would come to your rescue,” Devon said.
Rowan nodded and clutched Grantland’s arm. “You must go back. And choose a wife who will be a fitting queen.”
He turned to stare at her. “You are the woman I want for my queen.”
“How can a woman from Valleyhold sit beside you on the throne of Arandal? Your soldiers hunted down my people. They will never accept me.”
“They will,” Devon broke in. “Because they will respect their king’s wishes.”
Rowan stared at her. “I would
have to hide my power. Pretend I am something I am not.”
“Perhaps at first,” Devon said. “But I think the two of you can change things. Not just for yourselves. For your peoples. And Grantland may have need of your powers to fight off the dragon.”
Galladar spoke. “You must hurry. I will take you back to Arandal, but not so close that anyone will see me.”
Rowan looked at Grantland, sure that he wouldn’t agree unless she came along.
“Go now,” Devon told him. “I will wait here for Galladar to return.”
“You are not coming back to the castle?” Grantland asked.
“Not now. I don’t want to explain where I’ve been. Or take the people’s focus off you.”
“But I want to talk to you more. After all these years.”
“Another time.”
Grantland kept his gaze on her. “I must know for certain that you are well and happy.”
“Well and happier than I could have hoped for. My life is perfect.”
Galladar stepped forward. “There are talents of the mind, and there is magic,” he said.
Before Rowan could ask what that meant, the dragon raised his hand and waved it over her and Grantland. She gasped in astonishment as her boy’s clothing was replaced by an elegant gown of green velvet, trimmed at neck and sleeves with fine lace. A pearl necklace circled her neck, black slippers covered her feet, and the hair that had been caught in a braid was now elegantly piled on her head, held in place by jeweled pins.
When she looked at Grantland, he was wearing equally elegant attire. A formal black tunic, dress leggings and high boots with silver buckles. And his hair was caught at the back of his neck with a jeweled clip.
Rowan stroked the sleeve of her dress. “How?” she whispered.
“Magic. Good magic,” Galladar answered. From his carry bag he took a leather pouch and handed it to Grantland. When he opened the drawstrings and looked inside, jewels sparkled.
“And now you are ready to meet your subjects.”
As he told them how to climb on the dragon’s back, Rowan knew that she couldn’t refuse. Not now. Grantland must go back to his people.
Galladar transformed into a dragon once more, and Devon helped them seat themselves on his back, with Rowan behind Grantland, holding tight to his waist.
She had seen many wonders in Valleyhold. But she had never dreamed of anything like this. As the dragon rose, she clutched onto Grantland, looking down at the world shrinking below them.
The magic of it almost took her breath away. And there was more, because they were also surrounded by a bubble where no wind could reach them.
Sooner than she would have thought possible, Galladar came down behind a stand of trees and they climbed off his back.
“Thank you,” Grantland said to him.
The dragon answered with a nod.
“Please make yourself known to me on some of your visits. And bring Devon to me.”
The dragon nodded again, then rose quickly, winging away from Arandal.
Beyond the trees, Rowan could see the gray mass of the castle, large and forbidding, bigger than any building she had ever seen. When she shivered, Grantland pulled her close.
“Don’t be afraid of this.”
“I’m a woman from Valleyhold. A commoner, not a courtier.”
“You are highborn among your people.”
“But not worthy to be a queen of a mighty kingdom.”
“Of course you are.” He swallowed. “I need you by my side if I’m going to stay here and rule. And not only to defend against the dragon who attacked us.”
His words overwhelmed her. In her wildest imaginings she could never have thought this was her future.
Perhaps Grantland knew what she was feeling, because he turned her to him and wrapped her close as his mouth came down on hers for a kiss that told her of his need—and his passion.
When the kiss broke, he looked down at her.
“I thought I was doomed to marry a woman who only wanted me because of my position. Or mayhap the daughter of a neighboring ruler bound to me by political alliance. I never thought I could choose my own wife. For love.”
His words sent a thrill through her, yet she had to ask, “You’re sure? You’ve only known me for a few days.”
“And learned your wisdom. Your bravery. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for your people.”
“And my stubbornness, my…”
“Your steadfastness. I know what you are, and I know you will make me a better ruler.”
“How?”
“Because you will always guard my best interests, and you will tell me when you think I’m wrong.”
She swallowed. “Yes. But where will you say I come from?”
He swept his arm over her outfit, then lifted the bag of jewels Galladar had given them. “A rich, mysterious land to which few have traveled. I met you there. And your…uncle has given you a dowry.”
“They will want to know more.”
“And we may tell them more later. After you are their queen.” He kept his gaze steady. “We will find a way to introduce your powers to them. A way that will make your talents an advantage. We will change their minds about witches.”
“You think that is possible?”
“I think so. If we do it slowly. And carefully.” He squeezed her hand. “And you won’t be alone in this. I must have latent powers, else we would never have escaped from that cage.”
“Yes.”
“Arandal was in grave danger. Both Telman and the dragon saw King Wilfred’s weakness.”
She nodded.
“Together we will make the kingdom stronger. King Grantland and Queen Rowan.”
“But I know nothing of being a queen. Of how to behave in court. I may be wearing a velvet gown, but they will think me…common.”
“They will think you charming. They will know you come from a place where the customs are different. And they will know you are a woman who is not afraid to show herself the equal of men.”
She took in his words, hoping that he was right. All this might be more difficult than he expected, but she was willing to take the risk because she had linked her life with his.
“Come then. We must go and reassure our people that their king has returned.”
She nodded. Queen Rowan. The idea still made her tremble. But she didn’t have to do it by herself. King Grantland, the man who loved her, would be beside her every step of the way.
They turned toward the castle and emerged from the woods. As they started across the field, a man caught sight of them and shouted.
Others took up the cry.
“King Grantland. King Grantland.”
Rowan walked beside him into the castle. Into the wonder of her new life.
* * * * *
Need a little more magic in your life?
Don’t miss Dark Magic, also by Rebecca York.
Available now wherever ebooks are sold!
Marrying her father’s barbaric enemy for political gain is not the future that Princess Devon imagines for herself. She prefers escaping into the world of magic and legend described in books—books that suggest just how a princess could take the safety of a kingdom into her own hands. When Devon awakens one night to find the mysterious Galladar in her chamber, the lines between myth and reality begin to blur. Before he disappears into the night, the two share an intimate encounter that leaves her determined to follow her heart. But can she find the mythical dragon who can free her kingdom forever and release her from her father’s plan?
Connect with us for info on our new releases, access
to exclusive offers and much more!
Visit CarinaPress.com
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/CarinaPress
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/CarinaPress
About the Author
USA TODAY bestselling novelist Rebecca York (aka Ruth Glick) has been in love with the paranormal since her teens. Dyslexi
c as a child, she thought she could never be a novelist. Now she’s the author of more than one hundred books.
Her Killing Moon was a launch book for Berkley’s Sensation imprint in 2003. For many years, she has also written Harlequin Intrigue’s popular 43 Light Street series.
Her many awards include two RITA Award finalist books, two Lifetime Achievement Awards from Romantic Times, five NJRW Golden Leaf Awards and a Prism Award.
Rebecca has participated in numerous radio and TV interviews and speaks frequently at writers’ conferences.
She is also the author of fifteen cookbooks. She and her husband travel frequently around the U.S. and to countries such as Peru, India, Italy and China. In her garden are rocks she’s brought home from these trips. To capture the thrill of adventure, she’s flown in a two-person glider, descended in a submarine and dangled from zip lines.
Visits to the locations of her books are important to her writing process—unless she’s writing about a fantasy land and must use her vivid imagination.
Her website is www.rebeccayork.com. To follow her on Twitter: rebeccayork43.
Where no great story goes untold.
The variety you want to read, the stories authors have always wanted to write.
With new releases every week, your next great read is just a download away!
Keep in touch with Carina Press:
Read our blog: www.CarinaPress.com/blog
Follow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/CarinaPress
Become a fan on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CarinaPress
ISBN: 978-14268-9423-7
Copyright © 2012 by Ruth Glick
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
