Dragon Bewitched

by Isadora Montrose

  “Hmph. Go on, Darius.”

  Encouraged, he continued. He told the story of his healing, the history of Balder and the children of Foreseti, and the remaking of Ravensblade.

  When he was done, the Eldest was leaning back in his chair and grinning. He flicked at Darius’ cell phone and examined the pictures of Freya, Brand and Valdar again. “You seem to have found yourself a bride, nephew,” he said jovially. “Let us drink schnapps and celebrate.”

  “I haven’t told you everything, sir.”

  “There’s more?”

  “I have to produce wergild for their father and uncles, and we have to return the armbands that were stolen from Foreseti’s corpse by Snorre.”

  “After all these centuries? That was a foolish vow, nephew. They were melted down long ago.” Thorvald busied himself pulling a bottle from a fridge discreetly concealed in a heavily carved sideboard. He poured out the schnapps into small glasses and handed one to Darius. “To your bride, may she have daughters!”

  “To Freya. May she have daughters,” Darius dutifully repeated the traditional toast. He cleared his throat. “Is it true, sir, that Lexi has lifted the curse?”*

  “It is. No daughters have been born to our House, since the birth of your cousin Christina of Severn**, but I have great hopes for the future. This past year, Lady Drake had two granddaughters born, and the Marshal’s newborn is a daughter.”

  “That’s what I heard. But to return to the bride price. I foolishly showed Brand and Valdar a photograph of me taken before the Declaration of my Mate Hunt. They immediately announced that the armbands I was wearing had been made for their father.” He shrugged. “I believe them.” He cleared his throat. “I more or less promised that we would return them.”

  Lord Lindorm’s eyes bulged. Darius waited for the blast of fire that would immolate him for his affront. But instead Uncle Thor chose to be amused. His laughter made dust fall from the plastered ceiling. “Armbands from the Lindorm Hoard?” he hooted.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Show me.”

  Darius took his cell phone and scrolled to the picture of himself decked out in all his medieval finery.

  “Those chains are worth a hundred times as much as those armbands,” Thorvald pointed out. “Mind, I don’t see how those twins could recognize them at a glance.”

  “We could.” Dragons were notorious for keeping tabs on their valuables.

  “I suppose that’s true. I have never sensed much power in the things, and we have others to replace them. Take them to their rightful owners.” Lord Lindorm broke off to chuckle. “It’s not as though they have any real value to us. We could never melt them down or sell them, so they might as well be made of base metal as gold.”

  “It’s kind of you to say so, sir.”

  “Now about your wedding. Where is it to be?”

  “On Balder, I suppose, sir. Freya and her brothers do not wish to leave their island.”

  “Your parents and your Aunt Inge and I will wish to be present. Probably your brothers too.”

  Darius gulped. He remembered the privy. “You might find Balder a little primitive, sir. And it is not what Mama and Aunt Inge are used to.”

  “We will have to rough it, Darius. A wedding is an important occasion.”

  “Yes, sir.” Darius finished his schnapps in a single swallow. “There’s more, sir. Brand and Valdar expect their blood money in gold.”

  “Done. So long as they haven’t asked for interest.”

  “I didn’t tell them about interest, sir.”

  Thorvald, Eldest of the House of Lindorm, roared with laughter.

  *Dragon’s Christmas Captive

  **Dragon’s Pleasure

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Freya~

  It had been a week, but every time she looked into Darius’ mirror it showed her only her own pale face and sad eyes. Nevertheless she took it out each day and tried to see Darius. Today, the scrying glass willfully showed her Brand and Valdar engaged in building Brand a house of hewn stone.

  Of course they were using the stones grown on Balder, but two men, even two as powerful as her brothers, could not erect a house of stone by themselves. They were using magic to assist them. Yet they were still covered head to toe in white dust, and rivulets of sweat ran down their faces and soaked their clothes.

  The house was coming along well. Brand had chosen to face the rising sun. He had the first floor made, and she expected the second story to be up in another week. The slate roof would be trickier to raise. No slate grew on Balder. And no other stone on the island would come apart in sheets to make shingles.

  Perhaps when they had their boat that rowed itself, they could trade for slates. But that was only if Darius returned. Her heart longed for him and counted the hours until his return. Would he be back from his voyage before her babies were born?

  “Won’t you show me my bridegroom?” she begged the mirror.

  To her surprise, Brand’s house winked away, and Darius appeared. He embraced a woman as swollen with child as Freya herself. How she wished she could hear what he was saying. The woman was as butter-haired as Elsa, and twice as pretty. He kissed her cheeks and hugged her gently.

  So he was married already. His wife was dressed in a rich, blue garment of some soft and shimmering fabric with a weave too fine to see. Gold and diamonds sparkled in her ears and around her neck. And a great blue stone shone on her left hand. On the finger where Darius had told her married women wore their rings.

  Freya was still no more suited to be any man’s second wife than she had been at seventeen. Her hot tears fell and blurred the vision. She was deceived. The mirror fell from her nerveless hands to the flagstones. It broke into a thousand glittering shards.

  Brand and Valdar found her on her hands and knees sweeping up the slivers. But no incantation worked to mend the mirror. It remained in glittering pieces that cut her fingers. Blood and tears. It was the night of the dragons all over again.

  Yet Brand and Valdar finished Brand’s house – all but the roof. And immediately began to build Valdar’s facing the setting sun. But hope had died in her heart. Shattered like the scrying glass. Not even the thought of her babies cheered her.

  “You know that you have always said that you cannot trust your visions to speak true,” Valdar told her. “Perhaps the scrying mirror has deceived you.”

  “We could take you to the Pool of Loki,” offered Brand.

  “You know that it is forbidden for the feet of men to trespass there,” she said. She looked down at her bulging belly. She had stopped walking up the mountain months ago. It was far too dangerous for her.

  “I believe he will return,” Valdar said. “But not that he has already has a wife. Why would he have come back at all, if that were the case?”

  She pointed to her belly.

  “He was surprised to find you pregnant, sister, you know he was,” Brand chimed in. “Pleased, although he wept. He will return to us in the boat that rows itself.”

  She had forgotten that Darius had left on that impossible errand. Even if he had no other wife, where in the wide world would he find a vessel that moved without sail or oars?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Darius~

  Buying a motor launch was not difficult, but it was not instantaneous. He had no time to commission one for Brand and Valdar, but it took a week to find a suitable one to buy. And then another week to have it overhauled. He used the time to find presents for his wife.

  It was traditional for dragons to have hoards, and to give one’s fiancée her own hoard was also traditional. But what would a woman who could have anything she desired at the flick of her fingers wish for? A woman moreover from another century?

  He chose Freya a handsome book of Norse sagas and had it bound in red leather with heavy silver clasps. It was a modern volume, but a reproduction of the original, down to the bright illustrations painted by the scribes. It fit neatly into a carved and gilded sixteenth century
wooden casket, undoubtedly intended to hold some nobleman’s prayer book.

  Naturally he had many jewels in his hoard. Some he had inherited. Some collected. He filled another casket, this one of gold with silver decorations. His Freya could have emerald brooches to hold up her gowns and brighten them. And gold bracelets and necklaces. Most importantly, a wedding ring with three big diamonds set into the wide gold band, so any one could tell at a glance that his mate was taken.

  Freya wove her own cloth. Her brothers wore green. Why did she wear unbleached fabric or gray and brown dresses? He bought dyes for her in every bright shade he could find. And bales of cloth in Lindorm blue. Fine cottons. Knits of every kind. Microfibers and silk. Velvet and satin. Stockings and tights to replace the ones of sewn cloth that she wore.

  And for a woman with long hair, he looked for hair combs of tortoiseshell to match the comb he had given her. Nowadays, tortoiseshell was a banned material, protected by treaty, so he had to raid his mother’s treasure chest for ancient ones. Not that Hedda Lindorm objected to providing her youngest son with gifts for his bride. And she offered him diamond-embellished hairpins to go with the combs.

  Mama was naturally uncertain about a daughter-in-law older than herself. But excited to have more grandchildren. He had promised to bring Freya to meet his parents as soon as he could. But he did not feel that dumping an enormous family party on his bride would improve matters.

  One August morning, laden with gifts, he sailed the motor launch into the bay by the foot of Mount Bradur. He had to anchor a safe distance from the shore and the rocky outcrops. Brand and Valdar would have to build a dock for their ship.

  He rowed himself ashore with two caskets and was met by Freya’s brothers.

  “Is that our ship that rows itself?” demanded Brand eagerly. He seemed even taller and broader than Darius remembered. As did Valdar.

  “It is. That’s your yacht.”

  “Yacht?” murmured Valdar.

  “That’s what this kind of ship is called. It’s a motor yacht.” Darius hefted his caskets. “Has a motor instead of rowers. I’ve brought some gifts for Freya. Let’s go up to the house.”

  “She was worried that you wouldn’t come back,” Brand said.

  “I knew something was wrong. But I’m here now.”

  “She will want some time to prepare herself,” Valdar said. “I’ll go tell her you have returned. You still owe us wergild, Dragon. Did you bring it?”

  “I did. But it’s too heavy for me to bring ashore by myself. At least in my human form.”

  “I want to see,” said Brand. “We’ll go to the ship while Valdar tells Freya the news.”

  “I’ll take those,” said Valdar removing the chests from Darius’ hands.

  So much for having a romantic moment alone with Freya while he combed her hair and decked it with diamonds. It occurred to Darius, and not for the first time, that he had had very few moments alone with his mate. Yet Valdar had already vanished into the woods with his gifts.

  Brand was enormously impressed with both the aluminum dingy, which he insisted on rowing himself, and with the launch. He was less impressed by Darius himself. “Is that how a rich dragon dresses for a wedding?”

  He eyed Darius’ blue jeans and windbreaker with disfavor. “I thought you said your family was rich, least of the House of Lindorm. Have you truly brought me gold and silver enough to pay for my father and his brothers?”

  Darius laughed. “I have. And more besides. I wrested your father’s gold armbands from the treasure house of my uncle. Come see the bride-wealth, Brand.”

  He took his brother-in-law below deck. There were two cabins, a head with a shower, and a galley with a gas stove and fridge.

  “Where does the wood go?” Brand asked, turning the knobs of the stove. Flame spurted and he jumped backward.

  Darius reached around him and turned the gas off. “It’s a sort of magic,” he said. “You don’t want to use it too often, or it will stop working.” He showed his brother-in-law the propane tanks. “Don’t mess with these. These contain a special substance that makes the fire burn. I’ll show you how it all works another time.”

  Brand grunted. “Cooking is women’s work. What is this thing?” He opened the little fridge.

  “It’s a machine for keeping things cold. Even on the hottest day, you can keep milk fresh in it.”

  “You can keep milk fresh in the river,” Brand said. “And I would not take a cow to sea.” But he opened and closed the door several times, fascinated by the light. “My sister would like a light like this,” he remarked.

  “She shall have one. Come let me show you the wergild.” Darius and Uncle Thor had decided that while there was not enough money in the entire world to pay interest on a debt ten centuries old, that they could triple the blood money owed without difficulty.

  Brand opened the first chest. “I will have to weigh it,” he said. “And count the coins.”

  “These other chests are as full as the first, and compensate you for your mother, aunts and sisters.”

  Brand checked them. “It is well. And the armbands of our father?”

  Darius removed his windbreaker and stripped them from his arms. “Here,” he said. “I return to your family the gold that was taken from Foreseti,” he intoned as solemnly as he could.

  Brand placed them on his own massive biceps. He did not seem surprised when the gold stretched to encompass his bulging muscles. He preened before the dresser mirror as if he had never seen himself full length before. Which he probably hadn’t.

  “And this fine vessel is ours?” he asked. “Mine and Valdar’s.” He paused. “And all its wonders.”

  “It is,” Darius assured him. “Every last bit. Now, shall we go ashore so I can see my wife?”

  Brand smacked him on the back, picked up one of the heavy gold-stuffed chests as easily as if it held feathers, and walked out of the cabin. “She ought to be ready for you by now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Freya~

  He had come back after all. Valdar had set two small wooden boxes on the table and told her they contained Darius’ bride gifts. She hoped he had brought her the secret of his celfone. She had once again adopted her disguise and dressed herself in even more homely garments.

  “He has come in such a large ship, with so deep a draft, that he could not moor it at the shore,” Valdar said excitedly. “Brand has gone with Darius to see if he has brought the wergild as he promised.”

  “I’m sure he has.” Her voice trembled.

  “Sit down, Freya, and have no fear. He was excited and wished to see you at once. He would have brought his gifts to you himself, if I had not sent him back to his ship.”

  She tried to smile but it was difficult. “We shall see.”

  “What more do you want of him?” demanded Valdar. He looked critically at her. “Should you not let him see you in comelier guise?”

  Could Valdar not see? She wanted – needed – her bridegroom to love her as she loved him. Did he love her and her alone? Would he be angry when he discovered she had broken his magic mirror? That beauty she had seen him embrace in her vision haunted her.

  Brand’s voice rang heartily, “Go in, go in. Valdar,” he called, “Come with me to see our ship.”

  “Don’t try to sail it, until I show you the trick of it,” Darius warned. “It is a skill that takes some teaching.”

  As her brothers went off happily to examine their prize, Darius picked her up and kissed her. “I’ve missed you, Freya of the long hair.”

  “Have you?”

  “I have.” He kissed her again. A long satisfying kiss. His tongue teased the corners of her mouth and her top lip, before slipping inside to taste and tickle. He opened his mouth to permit her the same freedom. He tasted of some rich strong masculine essence. Her cunt was suddenly dripping wet.

  He nuzzled her throat and murmured against it. “I’m eager too. But your brothers will be coming back any minute.” He let h
er down, sliding her down his Dik. Which was just as hard and long as it was in her dreams.

  “Shall I bar the door?” Darius asked. He eyed the heavy oak beam that fit across the door on two iron hooks.

  “I don’t think that is necessary.” That bar would not keep her brothers out.

  “I sometimes think that we will never have a moment alone,” he grumbled. “Come, Freya, sit with me and tell me how you have been. Have you been well? You and the babies?” He sat in her chair and pulled her onto his lap.

  “I have been growing larger every hour,” she retorted.

  Big hands encircled her belly. Darius appeared to be listening. “I think I hear three heartbeats,” he said. “Two for sure.”

  “No one can hear the heartbeat of an unborn babe,” she rebuked him.

  “I can. My hearing is powerful because I am a dragon. I can hear the grass grow.”

  She laughed. “Now that must be a lie!”

  “An exaggeration,” he conceded. He set his head on top of hers. “When will we be married, dear heart?”

  “I will not be a second wife,” she said. She waited, limbs stiff, heart pounding for his answer. How would he explain the woman in the blue gown?

  He laughed. The brute laughed. “I am a dragon, my heart. We are faithful to our fated mates. I will have no other wife but you.”

  “So you say. But I have seen you with a woman rounder even than me, laughing and hugging. So I know you have another woman. Is she your bed-slave?”

  He held her more tightly, but at least he stopped laughing. “I have no wife and no bed-slave. No woman at all. What did this woman look like?” He reached into his breeches and took out a little black and silver bar.

  “She had yellow hair and blue eyes and rosy cheeks.”

  “Hmm.” He showed her the bar. There were paintings of many people. As real as life.

  “Who are these people? Have you captured so many souls?” This was the wonderful tech-nol-o-gy her brothers had told her of. “What is this thing?”