Dragon in the Blood (Vale of Stars Book 2)

by Juliette Cross

  Dumbstruck, I tried to process the fact that Kol was telling me this about his precious sister.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Rowanflame. You’re her mate. I made a mistake once that nearly cost my mate’s life, which would’ve been the death of me. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone…least of all my own flesh and blood. Just know this, there is no one who can reach her like you can.”

  Then he was gone, leaving me bewildered and frustrated. But a small part of my crushed ego and splintered heart wondered if he was right.

  CHAPTER 21

  T he woman behind the warrior…loved my life with you in it. His last words before he stormed out of my room spun round and round in my head as I squatted on a craggy ledge overlooking the blacksmith shop.

  The temperatures had dropped a punishing degree. Even with my thermals on and headgear well in place, my hair tucked tightly into the cap with not one stitch of my skin exposed, I could still feel the cold. And I wondered if it was because I felt cold to the heart. When we met in the innkeeper’s bar to go over the map layout of Harrowmir to choose positions and rotations to watch for the Larkosians, Conn had kept well away from me, never acknowledging my presence and choosing the shift opposite me.

  Cold. Yes, I felt it straight to the marrow of my bones. Conn wanted more than to be my lover. That was evident. Or at least he had before I rejected him…after the most mind-blowing sexual experience I’d ever had or could ever imagine having.

  I’d convinced myself that my attraction to him was purely physical. I’d kept men at bay too long, and I simply wanted to satisfy my growing sexual appetite. That’s what I’d told myself.

  There were plenty of fine Morgon men in our party who should’ve enticed me by now. Bowen had arrived, having received our message we’d left at Orlik’s tavern to meet us here as soon and as covertly as possible. He’d brought with him twenty strong men of the Huntergild clan, one of them his brother, a beautiful man with a wild, watchful look in his eyes. Actually, all of the Huntergilds seemed to have this trait—a characteristic of the hunter clan, I supposed. Any woman would be swooning to spend time in their company, or in their beds. But I never once entertained that thought, or anything near it. Though it appeared Madera was becoming quite friendly with them.

  No. My eyes were only ever drawn back to one Morgon—the one with giant rust-red wings, brooding and scowling in the corner. And never looking my way.

  “Party approaching from the southeast,” said Bowen into my ear comm as he crouched in position next to me.

  I checked the device. Yes. A half dozen dots flying in V-formation from the southeast.

  “Everyone stand down,” said Kol, his position on the cliff above me. “Do not break cover. Bowen, assemble the rest of the party at the smith’s house and the inn.”

  “At once,” came Bowen’s steady voice over the comm.

  I watched my comm as they drew closer to the main landing of Harrowmir within eyesight of my current position. Closer…closer. Then I could hear the wind shear off their wings and their flapping as they descended onto the snow-dusted cliff’s edge leading into the village. Light flakes fell, revealing only dark figures clothed in black. I clicked on the zoom of my night vision. Two were definitely the Greyclaws we’d seen on our first night in Aria. They were accompanied by four more of the Sunsting clan, all wearing the signature black and gold raiment, though one wore silver cuffs on his wrists. Their eyes glowed yellow in the dark. We had to stay well-hidden because of the Sunsting’s gift to see clearly, even in the darkness. The one with the cuffs pointed as if giving instructions to the others. They were too far away to hear, even with our dragon sense of hearing. The Greyclaws were not in charge.

  “The one with the silver cuffs must be the officer,” I whispered into the comm.

  “Yes,” Kol agreed. “We wait till they are in and out of the smith’s shop before we make a move. Keep to your positions.”

  One of the Greyclaw men moved ahead, leading the others toward the smith’s shop, all of them glancing around the village but finding no one to notice their arrival. It was the middle of the night, so no one would be awake. But they were wary as ever. Definitely a military operation.

  We waited. I felt the air move around me, then felt the movement of a Morgon landing. I glanced, thinking it would be Bowen, but it was Conn. His headgear and goggles completely obscured his face so I couldn’t tell his mood. But it became apparent when he left several inches between us, a space he wouldn’t have allowed before last night. We both watched the smith’s shop without speaking.

  Thirty minutes later, the door opened. By the warm glow of the forge, the burly figure of the smith shook hands with the officer, the others carrying packs strapped to their chest, obviously full of something. The harnesses, of course.

  The six of them filed out through the quiet street, leaving deep tracks in the snow, then to the ledge where they lifted off, heading southeast once again. The comm revealed a bright red beacon beeping their route.

  “The tracking device is working,” I said.

  “Good,” replied Kol. “Everyone keep your comm reading the tracker. We don’t know if there are more waiting to escort them back into their hidden camp. If there are, then we’ll have an air fight. Team one will engage. Team two will continue following the tracker.”

  Team one was now Bowen and the Huntergild clan, expert bowmen and swift fighters in the air. The best ground fighters were the Guard officers and Bastien’s Bastards.

  “Agreed,” said Bowen, Captain of Team one.

  “We lift off in three minutes, countdown now. Once we’re in air, radio silence. Text only,” said Kol.

  I stood to await the countdown, sensing the heavy tension still wrapping Conn and I. Watching the seconds tic down, I readied for flight, opening my wings to half-stance. Conn gripped my arm. My heart lurched. I thought he would finally say something to me, for he could easily close off the group comm and speak directly to me alone. But he didn’t. He reached over and tightened the straps of my crisscrossing harness for my swords that I never seemed to secure to his liking. He had been watching over me this entire trip, now that I thought of it. Not like a fellow officer, but like someone who was more. His eyes blazed fire-gold behind the goggles, but he said nothing before he looked out and readied himself for flight as well. He lifted off a split second after me, shooting high into the clouds.

  We aligned with Kol, Paxon and Lorian to create a small V-formation, Kol at the point. Everyone else did the same, spreading out as best they could to avoid collision but keeping our party tight. The Guard officers that Kol had brought formed three V-formations to our left, Bastien’s Bastards were on the right, the Huntergilds in the forefront. We might not be a huge army, but we were formidable in force.

  Trying to focus on the impending battle, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to this man who’d somehow wriggled his way into my life…and into my heart. How did this happen?

  The cloud cover thickened, misting my goggles. I relied more heavily on my hearing for flight guidance. The Huntergilds led us higher out of the thick of it. Up here, the moon beamed bright and full, gilding the sheet of clouds silver. We could no longer see the world below, but it didn’t matter with the tracker leading the way.

  Watching my comm, the tracker drifted farther south. I scrolled down on the map to find where they could possibly be headed.

  Beyond Brilla’s Crag, there were flight routes frequented by Morgons heading straight to Drakos and Cloven, even to Gladium. Though Morgons in Gladium rarely needed to cross through Aria for any reason.

  The tracker moved beyond Brilla’s Crag, made a sharp turn to the east, and then a sudden decline. The tracker disappeared. My pulse raced, waiting for it to pop back up. Then a text from Kol lit up the screen.

  They must be below ground. We’ll find the entrance when we get there. Almost to Brilla’s Crag.

  The navigation chart placed us within a mile of the famous mountain peak. The Huntergil
ds led the descent as one. We fell below the clouds. The monstrous silhouette of the rocky giant rose out of the gloom, a looming, jagged mountain where the Larkosians had disappeared at its base.

  Bowen’s vee guided us straight down where we’d seen the tracker vanish. Brilla’s Crag wasn’t simply a mountain. Circling the mighty mountain was a multitude of smaller, connected peaks, the rock formations created out of some earthly violence, thrusting spikes around the base of their mother, Brilla’s Crag.

  Bowen pointed to the right toward a particularly jagged section swallowed by shadow. He fell straight down, as if on a suicidal dive. But I knew better with Bowen. He sought out his own flesh and blood, to bring them to safety, and to exact revenge on those who took them. I prayed we would find them alive.

  I sucked in a breath when Bowen’s formation disappeared into a shadowy region within the crown of peaks along the bottom. I followed on faith that there was some entrance I couldn’t see. And there was. Within the darkness, I felt the distinct push of rushing wind, like when we flew through a crevasse in Aria, the wind channeled straight against us with great force.

  The rocky formations ringing the base of Brilla’s Crag had formed to create a roof to a cavern which must open to the wide air somewhere. We dodged the stalagmites and stalactites jutting up from the earth and down from the cavern roof. Slowing our flight, we entered cautiously but remained on course behind Bowen leading our way. By instinct, we followed the rush of cold wind that would lead us out of the cavern.

  The hollow seemed to go on for miles until finally a distant grayish light grew larger and larger. The exit. We came out onto a cliff that rolled smoothly into a valley where a woodland stretched thick and far. We landed on the cliff, making room for the others coming up behind. Snow swirled in our wakes as we touched down one by one. I landed near Bowen with Conn right behind me. Bowen took my hand and pointed it to the right. Following my finger, I could see it. The tiny pinpricks of light glittering like stars in the forest. Torchlight.

  The tracker suddenly beeped back on. I checked my comm. The tracker was perfectly still and beaming from the center of this unknown forest.

  We’d found the Larkosians’ hidden lair.

  CHAPTER 22

  M other Moon was a perfect luminous orb, shining so bright even as cloud cover wisped before her. She would bless me this night. Cloaked in my red ceremonial robe, I stepped onto my balcony, Decimus at my side.

  “Tonight, we begin a new era.”

  Uncharacteristic of him, he stepped in front of me and cupped my cheek, his black eyes glinting bright by the moon. “You will be my queen to rule them all.”

  I placed my hand upon his and guided his palm to my lips where I lay a kiss. “Oh, my lover. And you will be my king.”

  He closed his eyes and inhaled my scent.

  “It is time,” I said gently, stepping toward the ledge and flying down to the woodland path. He followed.

  We wound through the snow-laden trees toward the altar I’d created in secret for this final blessing before we left this cursed place. Anxious and hopeful, I stepped into the tiny grove where the moonlight shined so prettily, beaming on the white stone altar. It would not matter if Larkos or his men found this altar later. It would be too late. We’d be gone.

  Taking a cloth from within my robe, I brushed the snow off the altar and set out my dagger. There would be no need for a blood keeper tonight, no need for the bowl. My hands and my body would be the vessel. Decimus remained quiet behind me, certainly detecting my anxiety as my breaths huffed out fast into the cold night air.

  The quiet shuffle of steps in the snowdrift drew our attention to the left. She stepped from the cover of trees into the circle of moonlight, robed in white and looking like an angel bestowed upon me for my purpose, to fulfill my destiny. Tears welled in my eyes at the sight. This beautiful sacrifice would bring me a life like no other, a life to change the world.

  I greeted her before the altar like an old friend, clasping her hands in genuine affection. “Thank you for coming, Lena.”

  The frail girl smiled weakly up at me. “I come of my own free will, but only if you uphold your vow to me. You will save my sister and take her home.”

  Meeting her gaze with genuine honesty, I gripped her with the hand I’d cut to make our blood vow. “I promise upon my own life that I will keep our vow. I will save your sister. I will take her home.” And I meant every word.

  “Then let us begin,” she said with bravery and strength. “I am ready.”

  Taking her hand, I led her to the altar. “We must both disrobe.”

  I slipped off my shoes, bare feet in the snow, then unclasped my red robe. Decimus was there to take it from me. Beneath, I’d worn nothing. The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of my naked body, which was expected. I’d kept my secret well, but this far along, it had become more difficult. And there would be no reason to hide my circumstances any longer.

  I smiled, caressing my rounded belly. My hair fell in waves over my full breasts. My son moved, awaking for his rite.

  “You see, Lena. Your sacrifice will be a very special blessing.”

  Her brows pushed together in confusion. “I do not need to know what blessing you plan to do for your child. I only want assurance from both you and your man, once more, that you will keep your end of the bargain.”

  “Decimus,” I called.

  He stepped forward and knelt before the girl. “You have my word, my child. I will uphold my mistress’s vow to return your sister home.”

  “Very well,” she said with a shaky nod.

  She removed her slippers and thin gown before climbing upon the altar. Shivering from the cold, she lay on her back.

  “Give me the vial, Decimus.”

  He passed it over. I uncorked the vial and pressed it to her shaking lips, bracing her head upward with my other hand.

  “Drink this. It will warm you.” She drank the elixir made of lunaflyr nectar. When fermented properly, the drink both calmed and stimulated the senses, an unknown power lying within the flower’s core. Lena’s eyes dilated as I set her head back on the marble slab. “And look at Mother Moon. She will welcome you into her arms tonight and bless you for eternity. You are so fortunate.”

  My son moved again, twisting in my womb. I’d eaten only raw meat for months to prepare my body and his for this rite. I’d bathed every night in pure glacier water heated and steeped with the petals of the lunaflyr to strengthen my power and will. I’d meditated hours a day to open the channels in my mind, connecting this world to the next, and for my full dragon gifts to come forth so that I might reach the dark gods who held sway over life and death. All for this one night. All for him. My son.

  With my palm at the base of my belly, I felt a leg stretch against my skin. I caught Decimus staring in wide-eyed wonder.

  “He is strong, lover,” I said, hearing my voice crack with emotion.

  Decimus smiled.

  The human’s seed had served well. My son would be powerful indeed. I wished it could’ve been Decimus’s son that now grew in my womb, but I couldn’t take the chance of his dominance overtaking mine. My son must be a Bloodback, the first born in over a century.

  Unsheathing the dagger, I raised my arms up toward Mother Moon, my heart full of dark desire. Sifting through my memory until I found the resurrection spell, I called for my dragon to come forth and witness this rite.

  “Through the world, beyond the veil, I call to the Dark Ones to heed my call. I bring the blood of a willing one, a life for a life for my precious son. I seek your counsel, Lords of the Dark, to witness another otherworldly behest.”

  The wind stirred, circling within the grove, disturbing the snow. The air vibrated with violence, quivering through my flesh and bone. I cried out, feeling their presence before I saw them.

  Three shadowy, hooded figures shimmered in a blur before solidifying into flesh before the altar. Eyes of obsidian gleamed under Mother Moon’s light, though it was not her a
ssistance I sought tonight. Their dark capes billowed in the wind in a slow, ghost-like wave. They stood larger than Morgons with wider wings. The lord at the center bore two horns on his crown, the intensity of his stare making me tremble. Still, I held his gaze, wanting to weep with gratitude, for he was the greatest one, the one they called Hellsgard in the ancient books. And he had come at my summons, at my bidding.

  “Speak your request, Priestess,” said the horned god, his deep voice echoing within the grove. I quivered at his rumbling voice that reached all the dark places in my heart…in my soul. His words rattled my bones.

  Taking the girl’s arm, I held up the sharp dagger. “With this life”—I slashed her deep—“I give you flesh and blood.” Lena whimpered, then made no sound at all. Setting the dagger on the altar, I caught the crimson liquid pouring from her vein with my cupped hands and smeared it over my neck and breasts. Her blood flowed fast. I caught more with my hands and covered my mounded belly until my torso and arms were sticky with the warmth of her sacrifice. My son kicked and stretched, sensing the power reverberating into my womb, as if he knew what was to come. The slick blood dried quickly in the cold and darkened my pale skin.

  The Dark Ones watched in silence, though their power rippled with renewed strength. I gripped the altar with both hands. Lena’s eyes slipped closed.

  “I plea for my child, growing fast and strong.” One bloody palm on my belly, I continued, “To bequeath him with the power of the dragon, to become the first and omnipotent king of old. I beg of you to accept my sacrifice and make him the mightiest one to behold.”

  Lord Hellsgard stepped closer to the altar, his dark presence filling my vision. I sensed Decimus shift at my side, but stayed him with a lifting of my hand. This god had no desire to harm me. I knew that with all of my being.

  He reached one long arm across the white altar with no effort at all—Lena still slipping away, her blood pooling on the marble slab—and spread a clawed hand over my round belly. I gasped at the sensation of raw power shuddering through my frame and gripped the corner of marble to keep myself upright. His skin was gray, his hand and fingers spanning my stomach as he caressed my rounded belly, his thumb gliding the underside of my breasts, seeming to call to the child within.