Dragon in the Blood (Vale of Stars Book 2)

by Juliette Cross

  Her mouth quirked up on one side in the sweetest way. “So the Vale of Stars is real?”

  “Yes. It must be. Now get on your thermal suit. We need to be heading out.”

  I tossed it to her. She slipped into it while I tightened my pack and scabbard across my chest.

  “But, Conn?” She reached back to zip up the backflaps of her thermal suit.

  “Hmm?” I turned her by the shoulder and made sure they were zipped tight.

  “Wren sang of a black dragon and a red brother. The black dragon must be the Blood King. He has black wings and is more dragon than man. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes. Must be.”

  She shouldered her gear and cross-harness for her twin swords, then followed me to the door. “Who is the red brother? Does this leader of the Larkosians have a brother, you think?”

  I turned at the door, noticing one strap she always forgot to tighten. Easing close, I pulled it taut and tucked it back under the other strap. Her floral scent filled my lungs. Instantly, I thought of the lunaflyr—so white and beautiful with a streak of fire running down the center. That was Valla to me. And she was burning me from the inside out.

  “Let’s hope that part of the prophecy is a metaphor and not a blood brother. For the beast is fearsome enough if you recall.”

  She gave a nod. I remembered that night when we caught a glimpse of the monster that had held Moira captive and had nearly caught her for good. He was an extraordinary Morgon—too much animal in him. Too much dragon.

  “I recall well enough,” she said, putting on a brave face. “But I’ll fight him again if I have to.”

  “We will. One of these days, I’m sure. And I’ll be fighting by your side.”

  We’d been standing at the door and for some reason I couldn’t make myself open it. I wanted more time with her. Alone.

  “Will you?” she asked in that artless way of hers.

  I reached up and cupped her cheek, unable to restrain myself. Leaning close, I breathed her in before I swept my lips against hers. She didn’t resist. But I didn’t push either. A brief press of lips, airy and barely there and not enough.

  “Yes, sweet Valla. If you’ll let me.”

  She gulped hard when I pulled away and opened the door.

  CHAPTER 17

  C onn and I walked out into the corridor, and I could hardly catch my breath from that kiss.

  It was nothing.

  But it felt like everything.

  Heavens, the aching, adoring look in his eyes when he vowed to fight by my side…if I let him. What was wrong with me that I didn’t want to cross that line? I’d thought of bedding a dozen Morgon men before, but had never acted on it. Never knowing quite how. But Conn… It was different now. I didn’t want to just sleep with him. I wanted to sleep with only him. And it terrified me.

  He followed, and the heat of him at my back was a wonderful but strange comfort. As soon as we rounded the first corner, we spotted Bowen leaning his shoulder against the wall, dressed with his pack, bow and quiver strapped, ready to go.

  “I’d wondered where we might find you,” I said lightly.

  “I knew you’d be up soon,” he said, not acknowledging the blush heating my face.

  Nothing happened, and yet something had changed between us. The friction of before had been replaced by something softer, something more comfortable, yet tender, fragile. Breakable.

  “What did your brother Kol say?” asked Bowen.

  “He’s concerned by this order for harnesses, of course. He plans to meet with Lucius and Lorian Nightwing, then he’ll make contact again.” I glanced down at my comm. “I told him we should be at the Syren Sisters Coven by midmorning and I’d contact him through dreamwalking at noon, rather than via comm. We don’t know who will intercept our communication, and he’s still concerned about the spy in our own network.”

  “That reminds me.” At my side, Conn folded his arms. “When we return from this mission, I’d appreciate your assistance in discovering who the hell this traitor is in Nightwing Security. We can’t continue to allow someone to report our movements and strategy to the Larkosians.”

  “Consider it done,” said Bowen. “Lyla packed us some food for the journey. The rest are still asleep.”

  “Best not overstay our welcome then,” agreed Conn.

  With that, we filed back through the chilly corridor, through the main hall, and then out into the gray morning, misting the air with a blend of frost and fog.

  “Let me see now,” said Conn, tightening his gloves as we put on our headgear. “I’d say the forecast will be”—he paused for dramatic show, gauging the air with an upward glance—“cold as fuck and windy as hell.”

  Bowen chuckled. A rarity. “Another beautiful day in Aria.”

  “Enough, boys. Let’s get moving.”

  Without another word, I lifted off like a rocket, straight up into the blistering cold. My thermal suit protected my body well, but the force of the wind was fierce, gusting in short drafts. Flying above the middle flight zone, I sensed the guys flanking my back. The misty morning rose high, only the tips of white-peaked mountain tops rising above the fog. The sun glazed the sky in pink and gold, a sheet of cloud rolling out like an ethereal blanket. Even while we soared toward some unknown destiny, peace settled around my heart, especially with Conn so near.

  Why should that matter? Why should he matter? His presence comforted me in a strange way. I couldn’t explain it away anymore.

  We pushed on until mid-morning when we stopped for water and a brief breakfast of the mulberry bread and cheese that Lyla had packed for us. For a band of marauders, they were especially kind to strangers. My view of the lost souls living in Aria had changed somewhat, especially after Bastien explained they weren’t all outlaws by choice but fugitives seeking a life of freedom away from the civilized world. Well, most of them.

  It did not slip past me that Conn found every opportunity to touch me—a slide of fingers when he passed the flask of water, his hand on my hip when he set his pack next to mine. But I wanted him to touch me. The simple weight of his hand on my arm steadied me in a way I hadn’t expected.

  The rising sun broke up the mist. The wind eased, and we made good time, flying fast and hard. By midday, we descended into the valley of the Syren Sisters’ Temple. I slowed at the sight from above. The valley dipped low and then rose to a flattened mesa where a temple of stone stood. There was a transparent dome extending high above the temple walls. There was an outer walkway, but a wrought iron trellis covered every opening. No Morgon could enter this fortress without permission.

  I spoke into my mouthpiece. “There is no way in or out for a Morgon.”

  “No,” agreed Bowen. “They are well protected from air.”

  “Or they are kept in a prison,” I added.

  “I don’t believe anyone is kept against his or her will,” added Bowen.

  We swooped low toward the mesa. I flapped my wings to slow my landing on the frozen rock. Conn and Bowen landed behind me. The temple was surrounded by small trees that were completely encased in crystalline snow, standing like ghostly sentinels on guard. When we pushed up our headgear, our breaths came out in white puffs, the air below freezing even in this valley.

  A white marble walkway began at the cliff’s edge. We followed the path that widened as we approached the temple gates. The steel double doors were embossed with a delicate design of three Morgon women holding hands, looking skyward, the moon a circular orb above them. Iron roses on a thorny vine fringed the doors. There was a silken cord hanging next to the door since they used no electronics or technology to survive out here.

  I glanced back at the guys. “Here goes nothing.”

  I pulled the cord. Hearing no answering bell, I stood back. A minute passed. Nothing. Wondering if the bell was broken, I pulled again, a bit harder this time. “Maybe it doesn’t work,” I said right before a click sounded on the other side.

  A peephole opened. Behind the oval
face of a Morgon woman embossed in steel appeared the pale face of a flesh-and-blood Morgon woman with black hair and amber eyes.

  “Greetings from Mother Moon’s Temple. How may I assist you?”

  “Hello. I am Valla Moonring from the Drakos Province.”

  “You are a long way from home, Valla Moonring.”

  “I am.” I swept my arm behind me. “These are my partners, Conn Rowanflame and Bowen Huntergild. We have come to speak with your high priestess, if we may.”

  “Men are not allowed within Mother’s Temple.” Her voice was serene and calm, yet sure and confident. “You may enter alone if that is your wish.”

  “It is.”

  She closed the peephole. There was a metallic click, then the door creaked open. Conn was at my side, his hand wrapping my forearm with a firm squeeze. He said nothing, but he didn’t need to.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured him, tugging gently on my arm so he’d let go. Focusing to keep my nerves calm, I refused to let this small act of dominance anger me. But this was the kind of behavior all dominant Morgon men couldn’t hold in check, the kind that irritated the shit out of me because it was an implication I couldn’t defend myself. “This is a peaceful place. And if not, I’m perfectly capable of handling whatever situation arises. I’m trained for this. Remember?”

  Hesitant and scowling, he swept the perimeter before letting me go with a stiff nod.

  I stepped inside. The sister at the entry closed and bolted the door. She was a Coalglass, her black wings glistening under the sunlight pouring through the iron trellis from above. Draped in a silver frock that shimmered with iridescent thread, she bowed in a formal greeting. “I am Mistress Keery. Welcome to Mother Moon’s Temple.”

  “Thank you.” I bowed my head, which seemed the only proper response.

  “Come with me if you please.”

  She led me through a marble arch carved with roses, then down a stone hallway well-lit by sconces. We passed a chamber where Morgon women worked with dried herbs around a long table. The room was lit by a domed skylight above and warmed by a crackling fire in a stone pit at its center. They continued working without looking up. Keery led me into a circular room, a commons area, where benches surrounded a pool and a fountain.

  “Please have a seat and wait here.”

  At the center of the fountain stood a sculpture of a voluptuous Morgon woman, her gown draped close to her skin, her arms upraised, her head tilted heavenward, her wings open wide. The water gurgled up somewhere around her shoulder, streaming down her body. Another domed glass let light in from above. But this dome was not nearly large enough to be the one she saw as they descended into this valley. The shuffle of feet drew my attention to the right. Keery walked into the room with another woman, taller and thinner, draped in a pearlescent white gown, her white wings folded neatly at her back, her hands laced at her front. She was an Icewing. Apt that a healer should be the High Priestess of the Syren Sisters.

  “Greetings,” she said as she stopped before me. “I am Priestess Thea. How may I serve you?”

  I didn’t know what I’d imagined the Syren Sisters to be like. They were spoken of like a cult back home, a gaggle of Morgon women who’d eschewed the civilized world to cast wicked spells and sacrifice at their bloody altar. The people of Drakos could not be more wrong. The woman standing before me was not a vessel of evil, living out a life of dark sorcery. Rather, she exuded the calmest, most serene aura I’d ever known. Her face was relaxed in an expression of peace, and I had a feeling that even in times of danger and fear, she would emit the same tranquility.

  “Hello, Priestess. I am Valla Moonring. I am an officer of The Order of the Morgon Guard. We have come to inquire whether one of your sisters has recently left the coven.”

  Her gaze, clear blue like a long-buried glacier, never wavered as she reached out her hand to me. “May I?”

  Confused at first, I finally realized she wanted to hold my hand. I’d heard of those in the Icewing clan who could sense truth or guile from a simple touch. They were rare, even among the healing clan.

  “Of course,” I said, placing my palm to hers.

  Her delicate hand, finely structured with long fingers, held me firm, though my rough, stronger hand from wielding swords felt strange gripped by hers.

  “Have you truly come to inquire after one of our sisters? Or do you have an ulterior motive?”

  Shocked for a moment, I answered, “We mean no harm to anyone here. Only to discover what we can of a sister who has left the coven, which may help us in pursuit of an enemy harming innocent people.”

  “Mmm. You speak the truth. And while you have honest eyes, I needed to know for sure. You see, we’ve been expecting you for some time.”

  “You have? But how could you know—”

  “That Valla Moonring and two officers in the Morgon Guard were coming? We did not. We only knew that someone would come, and we didn’t know if it would be one seeking guidance for truth or someone seeking knowledge for the Dark King.”

  “The Dark King?”

  Her clear eyes grew colder. “The one who bands his men into an army of rapists and slavers. The one who would smite all light from this world with his tyrannical rule and his blood sorcery. The one who is responsible for taking our beloved Bekka away from us.”

  “Aye.” I dropped my hand from hers. “We know him. We call him the Blood King.”

  “Before the end, he will have many names.”

  I wondered for a second if one of them would be Black Dragon, like Wren’s premonition.

  Her words carried such a hard truth that I couldn’t breathe for a moment. Before the end…and how long would it take to reach the end? And who would rule when all was said and done?

  “You said that he took a sister from you? Bekka?”

  “Seduced, I’d say. Come.” She beckoned to an archway on the far side of the chamber.

  Walking side by side, I kept to her strolling gait and listened.

  “Mistress Bekkanine had the job of fetching water from the glacier pool once a week. We have a drinking well here in the compound, and we live a solitary, self-sufficient life, but we need a single jar of glacier water for our weekly blessing of the crops.”

  I didn’t bother to ask her what crops she spoke of—nothing could grow in this frozen wasteland. Perhaps she referred to the herbs they were drying that must be grown indoors. We strolled along the corridor, lit by skylights every few feet.

  “I didn’t notice any changes in Bekka at first. It was her sister who alerted me of some danger we could not see.”

  “She has a sister here at the coven?”

  Thea glanced my way with a small smile and an expression of quiet sadness wrinkling her smooth forehead. “She does. And I am breaking a vow I made to their dying mother by sharing the truth with you.”

  What in the world could she be talking about? An ominous thread of foreboding wove through my chest. “I do not mean to make you break any coven vows, for I know they are sacred to you.”

  “Their mother was not a sister of the coven. I would not break a coven vow. This was a promise to a desperate mother, but I can no longer keep her secret. Mother Moon has prepared me for your coming, and I know what I must do…for the good of Morgonkind as well as humanity.” She pushed through two swinging wood doors carved with the same border of blooming roses seen throughout the compound.

  Breathless at the sight before me, I stopped at the entrance, panning the indoor arboretum. Stories high, the dome I’d seen from the sky stretched far and wide. Evergolds towered to one side, tall and centuries old. A crop of corn, cabbages, and other vegetables grew in neat rows to our right. Sisters quietly tended the garden, glancing our way once before returning to their work. A stone path guided us toward the center of this woman-made forest. Thea beckoned me, smiling at my awestruck stupor.

  “Come. I will introduce you to Bekka’s sister.”

  “Priestess…this, this place is—”

&
nbsp; “Surprising?”

  “Unbelievable. How is this even possible?”

  “Not all witch magic is bad,” she said, teasing, for she must know the reputation they had among the supposed civilized of the world.

  “No wonder you never leave.”

  With her hands folded in front of her as she walked, she looked ahead, chin held high. “It is our oasis. I imagine the world wonders how we could possibly leave civilized cities for this solitary life. But I cannot imagine leaving our little piece of heaven for what the world could offer.”

  “I understand.” And I truly did. Though I was never the kind of woman who wanted a tranquil life at home—give me a weapon and target any day of the week—I could certainly understand the appeal this place had for some. I was slightly envious of them, to be so at peace with such a simple life, a simple world.

  “Right through here.” She led me under a trellis of fragrant honey-scented flora and into a wildflower garden that was bordered by pretty sculpted bricks, no doubt handmade.

  As we approached one wildflower bed, I knew at once who Bekka’s sister was. A sweat broke out on my back, adrenaline shooting through my body. Crouched on her haunches, smelling a large purple flower I didn’t recognize was a Morgon woman with deep crimson wings, edged and ridged in black. They were half open when she stooped to her work, much like a butterfly when taking nectar from a petal.

  “Kera!”

  She stood at Thea’s call. Unsurprised to see a foreigner standing in their sacred garden, she walked forward to meet us. Draped in the same gray gown as the other sisters, it fit her entirely differently. Most Morgon women, myself included, were built tall and thin, our bone structure more delicate so our lighter wings could carry us well. This was one reason I worked out on a regular basis to build lean muscle mass in order to fight typically male adversaries who usually had a hundred pounds on me. The woman sauntering forward was nothing like that. The fabric of her gown molded to each voluptuous curve, presenting the figure of a woman built for seduction. If that wasn’t enough, she wore her fire-red hair in long waves, loose braids around the temples. Her eyes, the color of dying embers, flamed brighter as she stopped in front of us.