Magical Lover

by Karilyn Bentley

  “I’m fine.” If one considered having his brain shattered, fine. “The Council summoned me.”

  “You don’t look fine. What’s the point of summoning like that? What if you were doing something important? You’d think—”

  “I agree, but it’s the way they call. I need to find out what they want before they call again.” He doubted his brain could take two doses of that in a day.

  “Will you come back?”

  Thoren leaned in, pecking her cheek, wishing he had longer. Once he took care of Council business, he would tell her she belonged to him.

  Hopefully she’d take the news well.

  “Of course. See you in a few.”

  Disappearing, he transported to the Council’s Chamber. The ceiling towered over walls carved from stone, ornamented with jeweled designs. Polished marble floors aided the hardness of the walls in rendering the atmosphere of the room cold and unyielding. Much like the eyes of the ones who sat in a half-circle facing him.

  By the Goddess, he loved this chamber.

  Thirteen carved, wooden chairs held thirteen males with countenances as hard as the wood cushioning their arses. A mixture of colored eyes—the bright green of Draconi and ice-cold blue of the Watchers—cut through him like knives.

  They wanted to know what he discovered on his mission and he wouldn’t put it past a few to try and read his mind. Rude bastards, but he didn’t much blame them. When dealing with the safety of his people, every little memory counted. It was a game, in a way, to hide his thoughts from prying minds, so he slammed his mental shields in place.

  Take that you bloody bastards.

  A couple of faces scrunched as they met his shields. Score one for the reconnaissance specialist.

  But he couldn’t mask the voice that spoke in his head.

  Hello, son.

  Father.

  Balthor sat to the left of Alviss, who sat in his normal spot smack in the middle of the semi-circle. Thoren tensed, ready for a wave of get-busy-and-find-a-mate nagging. Instead, Balthor’s eyebrows shot into his hairline as he gaped at Thoren. To top the odd reaction, Balthor marched over to Thoren, hugged him, and stuck his nose in Thoren’s neck.

  Had his father lost his mind?

  “You Changed.”

  One eyebrow popped up as he stared at his father.

  “I did.”

  “Who was the female that aided you?”

  Keara. A Halfling. My mate. But I’m too messed up to inform her of what she is. “Someone I met.”

  Now it was his father’s turn for the cocking eyebrow routine. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that answer.

  Before his father spat a comeback, the twenty-foot tall doors swung open like they were loose on their hinges, all wobbly and light.

  “We’ll talk later.”

  Not if he had any say in the matter.

  Enar strode through the open doors, a look of pure rage on his face. Unlike Thoren, who could cheerfully pull up a carved chair and plant his arse in this Chamber, Enar would rather lose his left testicle before coming here.

  The only reason his friend even bothered with the Council was because Thoren liked it and Enar was assigned to guard Thoren. Until death do them part, so to speak.

  Thoren suspected Enar’s reticence for the Council had more to do with his father than it did with the Council itself. Enar’s father won Thoren’s meanest-male-ever-met award, a towering wall of anger, most of it directed at his son.

  Thoren might disagree with his own father—especially over the finding a mate saga—but at least he knew his father kept his best interests at heart. Enar’s old man couldn’t care less about his son and didn’t mind showing that attitude to the world.

  With a crash that caused little bits of dust to rain down, Enar slammed the gigantic doors closed. Thoren bit back a smile.

  “Instead of summoning me, why not just kill me instead? It’s bound to hurt less.” Enar stalked farther into the room, stopping beside Thoren.

  “You still live, Aylasson?” Thoren’s eyes widened at the insult of calling Enar by his mother’s name as one would a female. “Thought you would be dead by now.” The man to the left of Thoren’s father grasped the arms of his chair, knuckles white, as he stared at Enar.

  “It’s nice to see you too, Father. Give my regards to the demon that set you free for today’s meeting.” Enar stood feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed.

  Viktor pointed a finger at Enar. “You ungrateful whelp! I—”

  “Silence!” Alviss spoke, his words echoing off the high ceiling, settling like a shroud across the assembly.

  Thoren shuddered as the spell slammed into him. Alviss was the most powerful Draconi that sat on the Council. And the oldest. His white hair hung in long locks over his shoulders, his face a map of lines. He walked with a cane, from all appearances a frail, withered man. But his magic ran strong, through his veins and the veins of his only surviving child, Annaliese.

  “We are gathered today to hear the reports of Thoren and Enar, not to bicker with them,” Alviss spoke quietly; even so, the words reverberated throughout the room. “Did you locate the Halfling we sent you to find?”

  “Yes sir. Along with others.” None of which the Council knew about. The High Chamber of the Council might sit in close proximity to the Temple of the Goddess, but Ari refused to discuss most of the happenings of the Temple with the Council members.

  Although he had been back for several days, the Council would not have known about it until Enar’s return. Both members of a spy pair were required to return in order to alert the Council.

  Quizzical looks greeted his news.

  “Others?” Alviss needed to loosen up that grip on the chair before he ripped off the arm.

  “There was a mature Halfling female and a captured male Draconi locked in dragon form.”

  Two heartbeats later, the room erupted. A grin attempted a run on his lips and he quashed the emotion before it spread. It was always fun to bring back shocking news.

  “A Halfling female!”

  “What’s the dragon’s name?”

  “Where is the boy Halfling now?”

  Questions peppered Thoren and Enar faster than they could answer, rendering both silent as a defense. Eventually Alviss would call for order, allowing them to report. And as expected, a short time later the old male’s cane thumped against the marble floors.

  Thud. “Silence!” Thud, thud, thud. Voices died, drifting away to the edges of the room.

  “First things first. How did you find the boy Halfling?” Alviss pointed the tip of his cane at them.

  “When he wandered out of Thoren’s containment spell. He’s been wandering ever since.” Enar voice dripped weariness. Going by the tone of Enar’s voice, Jamie must have given his friend a larger dose of trouble than he had earlier admitted.

  A bushy white eyebrow popped up. “You are two of our best reconnaissance specialists. How could you not ward an area to contain a Halfling?”

  Thoren felt his cheeks heat. “We didn’t realize what he was.”

  “Pardon? Are your eyes giving you trouble?”

  “No sir. The boy does not have the typical Halfling coloring. He has brown hair and gray eyes.”

  Another round of murmuring followed by a thumping cane.

  “We knew Bjorn had a Halfling boy, but we did not know about this.”

  Bjorn was Jamie’s father? Thoren fought to keep his gaping mouth closed. Bjorn had been one of Thoren’s closest friends as a child despite being several years his senior, but they grew apart in recent years. Last he’d heard, Bjorn had disappeared several months ago. And Enar confirmed he died. Thoren took a deep breath and closed his eyes, saying a quick prayer for Bjorn’s soul. Grieving would come later.

  “Does he use magic?”

  “None that I saw. What about you?” Thoren turned to Enar.

  “Not unless you consider a penchant for climbing trees and falling out of them magic.”

  “Maybe you
didn’t give him the right incentive. We’ll question him ourselves.”

  Oh, that would go over really well with Keara. She protected Jamie like a mother dragon did her hatchlings.

  “He’s injured—”

  “Falling out of a tree. He thought he could fly,” Enar chimed in.

  “He broke his leg and arm and is being tended by the Halfling female we found.”

  “And my Claim.” Enar stood a little taller.

  The Watchers’ gazes landed on Enar and Viktor snarled. Thoren’s hands cranked into fists. What he wouldn’t give for a fight with Viktor. Hatred was not an emotion he normally felt, but Enar’s father brought it out like a burst from an exploding energy ball.

  Alviss’s questioning continued, rolling right over Enar’s statement and Thoren’s anger.

  “Draconi heal fast. We’ll speak with him tomorrow or the next day. Tell us about the female. How did we not hear of a mature Halfling?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that. But the town we found them in is full of superstitious people who convinced her magic was evil and she was, too. Don’t worry, I’ve convinced her otherwise. Her name is Keara and she was…is…an apothecary. Annaliese has taken her on as an apprentice.”

  “You’ve been here long enough for her to meet Annaliese?”

  “I returned with Keara several days ago. I went through the Change while on the mission,” Balthor’s face turned into a mask of horror, “and gave her a crash course on helping me, but she absorbed the magic and went into a coma.”

  Now all the Draconi faces matched Balthor’s horrified glare and the Watchers looked puzzled. While the Watchers knew male Draconi underwent a Change, they didn’t know what it involved.

  “She lived despite absorbing magic?” Alviss’s coloring matched his hair.

  “She did. I turned and flew her back. Figured it was an extenuating circumstance.”

  “Of course, of course. Are you sure she absorbed your energy?”

  “Both she, the High Priestess, and Annaliese said that’s what she did. She’s tending Jamie, the boy Halfling.”

  “We need to speak with her too. Now about the dragon.” Alviss made a circular motion with his hand.

  “We found him in a dungeon—”

  “What were you doing in a dungeon?”

  “Rescuing Keara. She’d been captured. Oh, speaking of which,” Keara distracted him to the point where he completely forgot about important safety news. Mated males were apparently head-full-of-air fools. “One of her captors was a Draconi.”

  “A Draconi?” Alviss gripped his chair’s arms in a white-knuckled grasp. “Who? Did you see this male?”

  “I did not. Keara said she recognized him by his mark.”

  “She was also drugged up but good,” Enar added.

  “So it’s possible she did not really see a Draconi?” Alviss asked.

  “I suppose. But she was insistent on that fact and she remembered everything that happened to her. The drug didn’t affect her memory. She said the Draconi wanted to use her for revenge.”

  “We will question her about that. It’s very disturbing. Continue with the dragon.”

  “As I said, we were in a dungeon and there he was. Apparently, he’d been captured many years ago while in human form and he Changed while in the dungeon,” as one, the Draconi shuddered, eyes wide, “and is now stuck in dragon form. He arrived at the Temple earlier today.”

  “Why did he not come back with you?”

  Thoren shrugged and looked to Enar.

  Enar’s heavy shoulders bunched. “I don’t know why, but he came with me, not Thoren.”

  “He’ll also be questioned. How was he captured?”

  Thoren shrugged. “I don’t know, but the bars of the cell were made out of titanium.”

  “Titanium? How can a mere human know titanium renders a Draconi’s powers useless?”

  “I don’t know.” Mated Draconi males were forgetful fools; he almost missed telling about Bjorn’s death. “Enar discovered Jamie’s father is dead.”

  Alviss’s eyes widened, his mouth tightening. “How?”

  Enar related what he knew about Bjorn’s death and his speculations regarding the rogue Draconi trying to capture Jamie before he tried capturing Keara.

  “That is a major security threat. We cannot have humans working with Draconi to capture Halflings. We will send a team tomorrow to eradicate the problem. Do you know anything else about this dragon?”

  “Sir, I discovered how the dragon was captured,” Enar said.

  Thoren glanced at Enar. Some inner voice told him Fafnir hadn’t gotten all close and personal with Enar, so how did the Watcher know that tidbit of information? More gossip?

  “Well, we’re waiting.” Alviss leaned forward.

  “He was visiting River’s Run and ran afoul of one of the nobles there who somehow knew of titanium’s effect on Draconi. I’m not sure why the noble captured him, but Fafnir cast a spell on the noble before he was thrown in the cell and the man went crazy.”

  “Serves the human right. Do you know more than that?”

  “No sir. I didn’t discover more about his story.”

  “Very well. We’ll question all involved and find out the answers ourselves. First we’ll talk to the female, you said her name was Keara?” Thoren nodded. “We’ll try to discover who her father was. Please bring her to us.”

  Thoren nodded and closed his eyes, sifting through the thoughts of Draconi surrounding him and the point where he last saw Keara. He found her thought pattern in the healing room and took a hop into her mind.

  Keara?

  Thoren? Where are you? What’s wrong?

  The Council would like to speak to you. Can you transport here or do you need me to bring you?

  Where’s here?

  Hold on and I’ll bring you.

  Thoren used his newly awakened powers to transport Keara from the infirmary to the Council’s Chamber. She took shape beside him, the scent of herbs wafting around her. One hand reached out and clutched his palm as she stared at the thirteen in front of her. The acrid scent of fear slapped against his nostrils, but her shoulders arched back, her spine straightening.

  Courage in the face of fear attracted him.

  He wrapped his fingers around hers, running his thumb over her mark. Her fear receded, rolling away like dust on a breeze. Her palm felt small, tiny even, in his hand. As if it needed protection. Just like she did. A female needed her mate’s protection, his caring, his love. In the same way a male needed his female like he needed the air beneath his wings. Without her, he remained grounded, a useless vessel, living, but not alive. With her though...

  Thoren gave Keara a sideways glance as she looked at him. He smiled and stood a bit straighter.

  “May I present Keara, the Halfling female from River’s Run. Keara, this is the High Council, the group in charge of security for Draconia.”

  Keara dipped her head. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Even with his thumb stroking her mark, her hand shook. Guess relaxation only went so far. Where she was concerned Alviss was an old dog with no teeth. He’d never hurt a female. The thought was ludicrous. But Thoren could understand Keara’s fear. Where she came from, this little visit meant disaster.

  Understanding didn’t mean he agreed, though. They mean you no harm.

  Her eyes flicked to him and then refocused on Alviss, her thoughts banked. Good to know his lessons on shielding her mind met with success.

  “Greetings, Keara. I am Alviss, the Grand Master of the Council. We have some questions for you. Will you be so kind as to answer them for us?”

  The kindness in Alviss’s voice must have relaxed Keara because Thoren no longer scented fear wafting from her. Her hand still shook, though.

  “If I know the answers, sir.”

  “Of course, of course. Now, tell me about your parents.”

  “My mother died when I was a young child and I never knew my father.”

  �
�No one knew your father?”

  “My mother never spoke of him.”

  “Come, child. Let me see your mark.” Alviss’s hand beckoned her forward.

  Keeping a death grip on Thoren’s hand, Keara drug her feet toward where Alviss sat. Was he actually able to tell her bloodline by looking at her mark? Perhaps this is what Ari meant when she said Alviss could deduce Keara’s family.

  Keara pressed her lips together, dragged a breath through her nose and stuck her arm out. Alviss grasped her outstretched arm, raised her sleeve and peered intently at her mark. A gnarled finger stroked across the dragon imprint before pressing hard. Thoren felt the thrum of magic beat against his palm from where it touched Keara’s. Her hand tightened against his as her body went rigid, her teeth grinding hard enough to hear.

  And then she went limp.

  Thoren caught her around the waist, lifting her into his arms. Steam poured out his ears, his lip peeling into a snarl. His mate hurt. Reasoning fled, instinct taking over. His mate hurt and the cause of it must die.

  Alviss’s eyes popped wide and from his peripheral vision Thoren saw Balthor begin to rise. A heavy hand slapped against his back and Thoren snapped at it, his teeth clicking together.

  “Hey, now. That was rather exciting, eh?” Enar stepped between Thoren and Alviss, using mind-speak to project his voice into Thoren’s head. Goddess’s teeth, Thoren, what do you think you’re doing? You can’t fight Alviss. Do you have a bloody death wish?

  Thoren blinked as he stared into ice blue eyes. Enar was right. What was he doing? A small hand pressed against his chest and Thoren glanced down into Keara’s wide green eyes.

  I’m all right, you know. It hurt when the magic went into me, but I’m fine now. Are you?

  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. “I apologize. I’m not sure what came over me.” Which was a lie on so many levels, but as lying was going to keep him from being charcoaled, he was all for it.

  Enar thumped him on the shoulder and went to stand where they had been before Thoren started the mated male dragon posturing.

  You can put me down now.

  Keara’s feet bumped against the ground and she grabbed his hand again. Maybe she thought he might use it to strangle Alviss if it wasn’t put to good use.

  Thoren met Alviss’s gaze.