Changeling Illusion (Thirteen Realms Book 3)

by Marina Finlayson

  Now Orobos sat up straighter on his throne. “An Illusionist is out in the open? Do they have a death wish?”

  I glanced at Jaxen, who was following the conversation with eager interest. “Illusionists are not the pariahs they once were, now that the king has returned.”

  “And who is this brave Illusionist?

  “It’s that changeling bitch, isn’t it?” Jaxen said. “I told you about her, Lord Orobos. The one who dug out the king from where he’d been mouldering in the mortal world.”

  I stared at Jaxen impassively. I wouldn’t let him rile me. There was too much at stake here.

  “Have you met her?” Orobos asked me.

  “Of course. She is often at Court. You will see her for yourself if you come to Lord Eldric’s memorial celebration.”

  “Ah, yes. So kind of Eldric to invite me.” That explained what Jaxen was doing here, at least. Eldric often used him as a messenger. Though it still surprised me that the dragons had let him in. “How badly damaged are this drake’s wings?”

  “There are three holes in one wing. The largest is this size.” I spread my fingers to indicate the size and shape of the rent in Squeak’s wing.

  Orobos nodded at one of the servants. “Go find Verrekesh. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see our errant knight.”

  He looked amused, presumably at my expense. I wondered who this Verrekesh was. That smirk suggested I should know—that I should even be feeling uncomfortable right now.

  Orobos’s eyes gleamed. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You two will have quite a reunion.”

  Yep. Definitely someone I should know. He began to discuss the wine with Jaxen, comparing it to several they had had the previous night. It hadn’t escaped my notice that I, unlike Jaxen, had not been offered a seat. Probably some kind of stupid power play between brothers. I was happy to stand here and be ignored, however. Orobos might think he was insulting me, but it was a hell of a lot easier than trying to engage in a verbal duelling match when I had no idea what I was doing. Standing around with my mouth shut meant that I wasn’t giving away my ignorance. And every minute was bringing that healer closer.

  Finally, the door opened, and a beautiful woman with honey-gold hair in a long braid down her back almost to her knees entered the room. She wore loose white pants of some kind of soft, drapey fabric like silk with a long sky-blue top over them. Her feet were bare apart from the rings on her toes. More jewels sparkled at her throat and in her ears, though her hands were unadorned. If she was the healer, she probably needed to keep them scrubbed.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. When I thought of healers, I thought of sensible shoes and nurses’ uniforms, or older women like Yriell and Morwenna. There was something exotic about this woman that made me think of tales of genies and sorcerers. Perhaps it was the way that long braid swayed as she moved, or the jewels sparkling on her toes.

  When at last my gaze found her face, I discovered dark brown eyes full of storms. The look she was giving me was not friendly.

  Orobos glanced between us, a look of amusement on his face. “Well, aren’t you going to say hello?”

  The woman glared at him. “What is he doing here?” Her tone was flat and unfriendly.

  “He’s come all this way to beg a favour for a mere animal,” Orobos sneered. “Can you believe it? Palace life has taken the dragon fire from my brother.”

  “An animal? Do I look like a veterinarian?” She came to stand between me and the throne. Though her back was to her Lord, she was clearly aligning herself with Orobos against me.

  I smothered an urge to beg on Squeak’s behalf. I could sense that these proud dragons wouldn’t respond well. They were more likely to throw me out as beneath their contempt than be moved by my bondmate’s plight.

  “The animal in question is a rainbow drake, the beloved bondmate of one of the last Illusionists.” There was no harm in telling them that much. It wasn’t even a lie. Jaxen had clearly already filled Orobos in on my sudden appearance on the Court scene. No doubt he’d also mentioned my fight with Blethna Arbre and the fact that I was from Illusion. “The king begs your aid, since this animal was injured in defence of the Crown.” That was true, too, in a roundabout sort of way.

  But there was no softening in the fierce brown eyes that studied me. Uneasily, I wondered what this woman’s relationship to the Dragon was and how much of a problem that would now prove to be. If only the Dragon had been more forthcoming about the kind of welcome he’d been expecting to receive here. Trying to second- and third-guess these people was doing my head in. I hated being so in the dark, but what else could I do? I had to keep soldiering on as long as there was still a chance for Squeak.

  Verrekesh turned to Orobos, though she moved so she could keep me in her peripheral vision. I had the oddest feeling that she didn’t want to turn her back on me. What did she expect me to do? Attack her in the middle of Orobos’s throne room? “And we’re now meant to jump when Rothbold says so?”

  I pressed my lips shut, resisting the urge to remind her that Rothbold was her king.

  “It appears that Rothbold thinks so, at least.” Orobos said. He glanced at me. “How is our dear king these days? Finding himself secure on his throne, I hope?”

  “His Majesty is well, as you will see for yourself if you accept Lord Eldric’s invitation.”

  “You seem very eager for me to attend this memorial service. So the king has found himself a surviving Illusionist? What of it? The Realms are better off without those tricksters in them, and I see absolutely no need to grace this ridiculous service with my presence.”

  “Other than that the king requests it.”

  Orobos shrugged. “And what if he does? Our borders have been closed for fifty years. We don’t need a king or any of the other Realms. We are sufficient unto ourselves.”

  “He is still your king.” I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help it. He was acting as if he owed no allegiance at all to Whitehaven, just because the king had been gone for twenty years. “And now he’s back, things will return to normal.”

  “Will they indeed? You seem very eager to bring Fire under the Brenfell thumb again, brother. What’s in it for you? Has he promised you my throne in exchange for your faithful service as his lapdog?” His eyes narrowed as his voice rose. “What kind of dragon are you?”

  “The kind that is loyal to the throne.” I couldn’t afford to show weakness in front of this man. I squared my shoulders and looked him directly in the eye. “Like all the people of Fire, I’m still a loyal subject of the King of the Realms.”

  “Not a loyal subject of your brother?” he roared, leaping to his feet.

  “I have always been loyal to you, brother, but a man cannot serve two masters.”

  “You serve no one but yourself!” He roared again, this time a full-on, animalistic sound that reverberated around the high ceilings. Between one breath and the next, the man disappeared and a dragon took his place. Black as night, smoke puffing from its nostrils, its great golden eyes glared balefully at me.

  I took an involuntary step back; I couldn’t help it—the dragon’s appearance was so unexpected. Its enormous body barely fit on the raised dais, and the black basalt throne had disappeared beneath it somewhere. Its tail cascaded down the steps, the tip lashing back and forth like the tail of an angry cat.

  The dragon lowered its great horned head and spoke, its voice a deep, menacing rumble. “Ebos has only ever had one master, and his name is Ebos.”

  Verrekesh retreated across the floor in my direction. She didn’t turn her back on the dragon now, which was probably a wise move. How had I managed to piss Orobos off so fast? Rowan would have said it was my scintillating personality, but I’d hardly said a thing.

  All I wanted was a little bit of healing help. Clearly, there were deep, unresolved issues between the brothers. Would the real Dragon have fared better? I had to think so, or else why would he have suggeste
d bringing me here? My heart thundered so hard in my chest it was a wonder that Orobos couldn’t hear it. I was way out of my league here, scared to say the wrong thing and inflame the situation further.

  Verrekesh reached my side. She cast a quick, scathing glance at me and hissed, “Avert your gaze, you fool.”

  I looked at the floor as the dragon coiled and uncoiled its great body atop the dais.

  “You are alarming your guest, my lord,” Verrekesh said calmly.

  “This traitor is no guest of mine,” the dragon roared, lashing its tail.

  The tail collided with one of the advisers’ chairs and sent it flying across the room to smash into kindling against the far wall. Jaxen leapt up and shrank back against the wall behind him.

  Verrekesh gestured in his direction. “I meant your friend from Autumn, my lord.”

  The tail lashed again, and I swallowed hard, wondering if these were my last moments.

  “Forgive me, Lord Jaxen,” the dragon growled. “Let us resume our discussion another time.” The great haunches bunched, the black wings spread, and the dragon launched itself into the air with a sound like a clap of thunder.

  I caught my breath, about to start hyperventilating, my eyes never leaving the fearsome creature. But it seemed I had escaped doom after all. Orobos climbed until he gained the gap in the ceiling. He clung there for a moment on the edge of the dome, letting forth a roar and a blast of flame, then he slipped through the opening and was gone.

  “Let’s go,” Verrekesh said, “before he comes back and lets his temper get the better of him.”

  She hurried to the door, and I went with her gladly. I was all for not getting eaten by enraged dragons.

  20

  I followed Verrekesh through the maze of passages, watching her luxuriant length of hair sway from side to side as she strode the hallways. She was a tall woman; her head topped the Dragon’s shoulder and my own long stride was required to keep up with her quick, angry one. This was a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve. There was no mistaking her mood.

  Finally, we entered a remote corridor, and she yanked open the door. I followed her in, closing the door behind me.

  She whirled on me, her long braid flying, and slapped me hard across the face.

  My jaw burned as I stared down into her furious dark eyes. “What was that for?”

  Given her obvious fury, it hadn’t been much of a surprise, but it was a bad beginning. Somehow, I had to get this woman to help me.

  She glared at me, not giving an inch, then lunged forward. She caught my face between her hands and plastered her lips against mine.

  Now that did surprise me.

  I froze, not knowing what to do as her tongue invaded my mouth. Her soft breasts pressed against my chest, and I experienced a moment of complete disorientation. This was not how my kisses usually felt. It was beyond bizarre.

  But, hey! At least she didn’t seem to hate me anymore. That had to be worth something, right? Awkwardly, I put my arms around her, not sure where to put my hands. But it didn’t matter. My moment of confusion had lasted too long, and she pulled away, disappointment clear in those expressive dark eyes of hers.

  “Forty-nine years and you won’t even kiss me hello?”

  I tried to smile, but it probably looked ghastly, because the disappointment in her eyes only deepened. “It’s been a long while.”

  She folded her arms. “And so?” Clearly, that had been the wrong thing to say. “You’ve forgotten how to kiss? Or you no longer love your wife? Which is it?”

  Holy shit. This was Ebos’s wife? Somehow, the fact that he was married had slipped his mind—or hadn’t he thought it important enough to mention? But his wife was apparently the healer we’d been coming to see—surely that was worth bringing up? It wasn’t as if he had planned to sneak in and out without seeing her.

  I stared down at her, the silence lengthening as I grasped desperately for something to say. “Neither.” I rubbed my jaw.

  Oh, God. Her real husband was dead. Lady forgive me! I felt the deepest shame. I should be telling her the truth, not deceiving her by coming here in a dead man’s shape. But Squeak. What a hideous dilemma. At that moment, I didn’t like myself very much.

  “You hit me.”

  Oh my God, what was wrong with me? That was a stupid thing to say.

  Her eyes narrowed, and then she shrugged. “I should hit you again. That’s all you have to say to me, after forty-nine years? I can’t believe you were stupid enough to come back here. You’re lucky Orobos didn’t kill you.”

  She moved to a sideboard and poured herself a drink, though she didn’t offer one to me. I could really have done with some alcohol right now. This situation was just going from bad to worse.

  She drained the cup in one gulp then set it down, her back to me. Still reeling from surprise, I took in the room. It was a large sitting room, though not large enough for a dragon, furnished in bold reds, purples, and gold. There were no windows, but several doors gave off the room, suggesting it was part of a larger suite.

  Verrekesh’s shoulders began to shake, and I realised belatedly that she was crying. Holy hell, could this day get any worse? I moved closer, awkward and unsure. Would she welcome my comfort or would I just make everything worse?

  “Don’t cry, Verrekesh.” I laid a tentative hand on her shoulder, which continued to shake silently under my touch. “I’m sorry. But you know the reason I had to leave. I loved my brother too much to stay.”

  She shrugged my hand off impatiently. “Don’t bother spinning that lie to me. I know why you really left. It was always ambition with you, wasn’t it? You never loved me enough.”

  What lie? I was completely lost. “You could have come with me.”

  That was a stab in the dark, but I had to say something. I felt like the world’s biggest jerk.

  Her shoulders stopped shaking, and she dashed the tears from her eyes. “You know I couldn’t. I am a healer of dragons. I had to stay where the dragons are.”

  She turned to face me, her eyes still bright with tears. She was extraordinarily beautiful, even for a fae, and she looked so unhappy that my heart went out to her. The Dragon must have been one stubborn bastard to be able to leave a woman like her behind. Though maybe if your brother was threatening to kill you if you stayed, that might give you a little incentive. Or whatever had happened. She seemed to be suggesting that it hadn’t happened quite how the Dragon had told me.

  “Then you understand about duty. You know why I had to go.”

  She slapped at me, but her hand stayed on my chest, toying with my surcoat. “Duty, bah! You can stop pretending. But I didn’t think you’d be gone so long, Ebos. I’ve missed you.”

  “And I, you.” God, this was terrible. With every word, I was digging myself further into the hole. How could I keep pretending to be her husband? Those soulful eyes shredded my heart with guilt.

  It was all for Squeak. I had to keep reminding myself of that. The Dragon had given his life so that I could save Squeak. I couldn’t let my feelings of guilt stop me now. Not when I was so close.

  “Have you been well?”

  She shrugged. “Well enough. My bed has been cold without you.”

  I was getting a very definite sense that she wouldn’t be averse to a little roll in the hay, and my heart all but stopped. I could not go to bed with this woman, pretending to be her husband. I couldn’t go to bed with a woman while pretending to be a man, full stop. Holy hell, would that even work? How far did the illusion go?

  Her hand was moving on my chest, stroking little delicate circles. I had to put a stop to this before it went any further. I laid a hand over hers, trapping it beneath my larger one.

  “I can’t stay. Every minute counts. I must return before the rainbow drake dies.”

  She pulled her hand away and stepped back, her face hardening. “You put an animal before me? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I was never first in your affections, was I? Your brother was right
. Your first thought has always been for yourself.”

  I wanted to protest on the Dragon’s behalf, but I needed this woman’s help.

  “I never deserved you, Verrekesh. I promise you, I would stay if I could, but I can’t. I’m a knight now. I’m not free to follow my heart.”

  Was this what Kyrrim felt like every time the king called him away from my side? Because this really sucked. I didn’t know this woman from a bar of soap and yet I felt like a heel for treating her this way.

  “Fine. I don’t know why I expected you to be any different. Forty-nine years doesn’t change a person in the ways that count.” She opened one of the doors and walked through. “Not when he’s spent centuries learning to be an arsehole.”

  I followed her in, and found a room lined with shelves cut from the stone of the walls. Most held books, but some held jars and bottles of different ingredients, rather like Yriell’s shelves in her cottage, though much less gruesome. There wasn’t an eyeball to be seen, for which I was thankful.

  Verrekesh reached down a small pot from a high shelf and tossed it to me. “There. Give that to your precious rainbow drake, and maybe we’ll see you again in another forty-nine years.” Her gaze met mine in challenge. “Unless I decide to choose the other brother before then.”

  What could I say? I covered my confusion by unscrewing the lid of the pot and sniffing at the contents, which turned out to be a pale, creamy ointment.

  “I put this on his wing?” I asked. “What is this?”

  “What is this?” she repeated in disbelief. “Are you mocking me?”

  “Of course not. I’m sorry—I’ve been away a long time.”

  “Long enough to forget you’re a dragon?”

  She was furious again. I put the lid back on and slid it into my pocket. Maybe Morwenna would know what to do with it. I was going to give myself away if I said anything more. Clearly, it was something Ebos knew well—or should have known well.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I must go. Will you take me back to the border?”