The ley pulsed beneath her feet, its lively sensation humming with energy, responding like a sentient force agreeing with Xavier’s encouragement.
As tendrils of flame lit across the backs of her hands and surged from her palms, the linen wraps protecting her knuckles burned away into bits of ash. On the next punch, the glossy leather covering the wounds-man’s chest went up in a brilliant plume of gold and white fire.
“Excellent. You see, magic is part of you.”
Perspiration trickled down her spine and dripped into her eyes, turning her vision blurry as she twisted to face Xavier. She wiped the back of her wrist across her brow. “What else can I do?”
“You can teleport. Mastery over flames is only a minor gift of the djinn.”
“How do I do it?”
“By focus. You have to want it. Much like any other act of magical skill, it is a feat of mind over matter. You see yourself standing in another location and feel yourself there. Know that you should be there.”
She nodded. “Mages can only teleport by line of sight.”
“That is true. And some sorcerers never master the skill no matter the years they practice it. But for a djinn, it’s as natural as breathing. You’ll be able to teleport beyond walls one day, but you must know what exists beyond them.”
“Which means it must be a place I’ve visited before. How far will I be able to teleport?”
“Range is typically determined by power. Yours will not be that great, as you’re only half-djinn, and the magic inside you has been diluted by your human blood.”
“I’ll make it great.”
Wariness flooded his eyes. After a moment of silence passed, Xavier nodded. “You will. I have no doubt of that, Rosalia.”
16
All Things Come in Time
Eight warriors clad in the armor of the Black Jackal clan entered the spymaster’s study. The men wore reinforced leather and blackened bone cuirasses in Linradesh’s style, though the lone female in their company wore glossy black platemail.
As the leader of the Black Jackals, Giashka val Amare looked the part, though she’d only been in the business of dragonslaying for the past twenty-three years, the clan inherited from her deceased father after he perished in battle against an ancient beast to the west. She wore her shiny, pin-straight black hair in a single braid wound atop her head, pinned with a stiletto and accented by a single ruby feather.
Of the seven men, five were powerful giants with obsidian skin and dusky silver braids, their grim faces battle-scarred from a lifetime of fighting. Caius had heard several were former Nairubian gladiators, men with prowess forged in combat against fierce beasts in the arena. Her two younger brothers rounded out the remaining members of the group. They fell into step alongside their leader.
“I hope you come bearing good news, Giashka,” Caius said.
The slayer grinned. “We believe we have narrowed down the location of your wyrm. As we were in the desert hunting for your beastie and missed its recent flight above the city, witness accounts of the sighting claim it to be a golden dragon. You reported a black dragon to my clan.”
“What does that mean for us?”
“It means our price has doubled.”
Caius stared at her. “Bullshit. We’ve already settled on a price.”
“That was before we knew the manner of monster you have hired us to slay. This is no easy task you ask of us, and at least one of our number is certain to die while slaying it, if not more. Our skill is great, but we are not so foolish as to underestimate a beast of this magnitude.”
“Or arrogant,” said one of the Nairubian men. The others nodded in agreement.
“The additional fee is what we request to honor the deceased and care for their families,” said another.
Dragons had never been one of the spymaster’s interests, as he’d always thought them volatile and dangerous creatures. He understood why many of their western allies destroyed them.
“Fine. How will you do it if this beast is so much greater a threat?”
Giashka produced a dried, three-pointed leaf from a small leather bag. “With dragonsbane. Very little of it remains in this world. Our people used it to extinction while fighting the plague of black dragons in our kingdom, but I travel with a portion of what has been passed down in my family over the years. I even bartered a few leaves to your assassin.”
“Yes. Little good it did. Your weed appears to have lost potency.”
She laughed. “I assure you, it has not.
“Then why did the beast survive to fly its master away from the cathedral?”
She leaned forward. “Because it is neither a gold nor a black wyrm. The creature you seek is a rainbow dragon, a rare and powerful beast with the intellect of a gold, the nature magic of a green, ferocity of a black, and the breath of a red.”
Caius quieted, wondering how the hell such a beast had come to their kingdom unnoticed.
“They are the shapeshifters of the draconic world, able to alter their sizes at will. That is how it has slipped in and out of your city under your nose,” she said, as if reading his mind. “By day, it is likely no larger than a basilisk.”
“Gods.”
“Of course, if you wish to test your hand at killing it again, I will part from what remains of our dragonsbane for the same price we negotiated last time. Then my clan and I shall go home.”
“No,” Caius bit out. “No. We’ll pay your price.”
“Excellent. Until we find it, you may wish to question all competent sorcerers within the city. It is unlikely the beast acts alone, as its particular breed is drawn to magic, and they prefer the company of a sorcerer more than solitude. A black dragon would act alone for the sheer joy of killing, and a gold dragon seeks treasure above all else. Sorcery attracts a rainbow dragon.” Giashka bowed. The men followed suit, then one by one they filed from the spymaster’s study.
Once the royal guard pulled the door shut behind the departing slayers, his assassin melted from the shadows.
“You were right. It is a single dragon after all,” he said to her, wondering how much longer he could stall before Gregarus demanded results and heads began to roll.
“Indeed. I’ve compiled a list of the likely suspects. These are the most powerful mages in the city who choose not to dwell in the tower.”
He skimmed the list. “Excellent. Our plan is falling into place after all.”
“It is. Soon the Soul of Avarae will be yours.”
“And the Tear of Nindar?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “It will come to us just as the Light did. Have no fear of that.”
17
Forgiveness is Divine
Xavier didn’t dare to linger long in Ilyria, as he hadn’t yet devised a way for the alarms in the Clockwork Emporium to reach him in the other hoard. While the likelihood of anyone connecting him to the events was slim, he didn’t want to risk that his prior contact with Rosalia had incriminated him, and the guard merely bided their time to infiltrate his home.
As he crossed through the translocation pane with Rosalia on his heels, the familiar sensation of cool glass surrounded him like diving into a lake on a balmy day. He emerged on the other side and glanced back at his silent companion. “Have you eaten yet today?”
Rosalia shook her head.
“I’ll fetch supper from the larder.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” she repeated, words harder than steel.
She was watching him now, amber eyes leery. He hated it. He hated Lacherra even more for ripping apart Rosalia’s confidence and filling her with distrust.
“Whether you’re hungry or not doesn’t matter,” he said in a quiet voice, drawing upon the infinite patience he’d inherited from his elvish mother. “Magical use requires stamina and energy. And if you don’t eat, sleep, and take care of yourself, you’ll have very little of either. Please dine with me.”
She made a tiny sound that may have been acquiescence. Without looking at him, she pushed toward the study’s doorway with a determined stride.
Xavier sighed. Only days ago, he’d been the one needing self-care, and now their positions had firmly reversed. “What can I do for you, Rosalia?”
“Nothing.”
“Surely there must be something?”
“What do you want me to say? We had the Light of Arcadian, but I fucked it all up and let it get away. I thought the woman who raised me after my mother’s death was dead, but surprise, she’s likely the bitch who sold us out to the king.”
“Rosalia—”
“I lost it, Xavier.” She turned to face him. “I had it in my hand and I lost it. Discovering who helped them locate the gang hideouts twisted the knife and salted the wound. I don’t even know what to do now. Where do we go from here?”
“We find the other stones.”
“I don’t know where to find them.”
“You do. I may have been choking to death in the bushes, but I heard every word the man said before she cut his throat. The Heart of Moritan is with the Moritta tribe. The Tear of Nindar is in the sea.”
“The sea?”
He nodded. “I believe so. I have two theories about the Tear. If your mother returned it to the goddess, she’s physically passed it back to Nindar, or figuratively given it to her. One or the other.”
Rosalia’s mouth formed a small circle. “That means it’s no longer part of this world, in a temple, or in the sea. But where in the sea? Which temple? There are many temples dedicated to Nindar across the Crystal Gulf.”
“Precisely.” He spread his hands apart. “Given how little time she had to conceal them, it can’t have gone far, though I suspect she wouldn’t want it to wash ashore in Enimura or be found by a fishing boat. It would be much too simple, too easy for us if it were gone from the realm.”
Some of the tension left her face, but the wariness remained. Her shoulders loosened, and she nodded. “You’re right. Then I suppose I should write to Adriano and see what he’s heard prior to setting sail. He owns a sea hawk for emergency correspondence, and I think I can reach her to send him a message.”
Xavier stilled. Even now, she couldn’t wait to run to her old lover. It didn’t matter that he had no claim to her, that he had no right to envy the man, or that Adriano had already surrendered the fight for Rosalia’s heart.
What mattered was that she’d shut him out and would turn to another man. Envy boiled inside him. “Rosalia,” he said quietly, moving closer.
“What?”
He swallowed. Now or never. She could never call him a cowardly dragon or a quitter at least.
Praying to the gods, he leaned in and slanted his lips over her mouth.
What he did wasn’t a kiss; it was a claiming, unyielding and determined to leave as much of an impression on her body as she’d made on him with her spirited nature, her compassion for her fellow thieves, and her determination to recover the artifact. Everything about kissing her sent warmth coursing through him.
Her fingers curled against his shoulders, applied light pressure—hesitated, then slid down and smoothed over his chest. “Xavier…”
Rosalia didn’t push him away, melting against him instead and plunging both hands into his hair. Wine and honey infused her tongue, enriching the natural taste of her, of woman and smoke, of djinn and sorcery. He groaned into her mouth and swept her into his arms, losing himself in her softness as long legs wrapped around his waist.
He tore his lips away from hers and kissed a line from her jaw to her ear. “Please tell me you’ve forgiven me.”
“Why should I?”
“Why?”
She leaned back in his embrace, both arms hooked around his neck. “Tell me why I should forgive you. Tell me why I should trust you.”
“Because you’re under my skin and in my blood. Because I can’t wake up in the morning without you on my fucking thoughts. Because every day you’ve been here with me has been a blessing in disguise. I want you for more than a night. I want you for more than a baby. I want you forever,” he murmured on a rough breath.
Her eyes flashed, a hint of amber color behind the dark irises. “For what I can give you.”
“Is that what you truly think, even after all we’ve been through together?”
When he set her down, she stepped back, putting distance between them. “Yes.”
“We could go our entire lives without a single child to show for it, and I’d want you just as much. This isn’t about our compatibility.”
“You say that now, but years from now, you’ll—”
All at once, the solution to their dilemma came to him. Xavier lurched forward and took her by the hands, charging their connection with magic. “I swear on the flames of my eternal soul that I want nothing but companionship. On the threads of my life, I vow to fulfill your will and desires.”
Her eyes grew wide, panicked. Did she know what he meant to do? He hadn’t expected anyone but a mage to understand. “Xavier? What are you—?”
“Making a Soul Oath.”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“You can’t do this.”
“I can.”
Rosalia struggled to free her hands. He gripped them tighter. “You’ll be soul-bound to me. You’ll be at my mercy.”
It was extreme and desperate, but he could think of no act more profound than a gift of his spiritual essence to drive his point across. His heart belonged to her from the first moment he saw her glide across the theater floor. This woman, with her incomparable dancing talent, intellect, and courage, embodied every trait he required in not only a lover, but a mate—the one and only woman to ever receive his affection.
If she wouldn’t accept him for who he was, no other female would do.
“I vow on all that I am, and all that I will ever be—”
“Stop!”
“To devote myself mind, body, and soul to no one else. My heart knows only one song, the sound of your name.”
Her struggling ceased. When he gazed up at her from their joined hands, tears were streaming down her face. “You don’t have to do this to prove it to me, you silly dragon.”
“I want to.” His pulse quickened to a dramatic crescendo until the sound thundered in his own head and drowned out the final words to leave his lips. “I will never harm or betray you, for everything that I am is now yours. On this I swear my solemn vow, bound in spirit.”
The powerful drumbeat in his chest continued to roar. Though Xavier couldn’t hear her acceptance, he read the two soundless words on her lips. “I accept.”
The magic arose from their fingers in sparkling motes of mana then coalesced as strands of glittering gold.
Permanent. Binding.
A Soul Oath.
Rosalia could barely breathe, overwhelmed by his promise. Lines of magical essence curled around their forearms and twined through their joined fingers.
Committing himself to her was the last thing she’d ever expected Xavier to do, as he’d be unable to defy her, lie to her, or cause her harm for any reason at any time for as long as they lived.
His soul belonged to her in every way. With three simple words, she could release him from the semi-permanent bond. But it was the symbolism behind the gesture and the profound trust he’d placed in her that stirred Rosalia to her soul.
“Say something, Rosa.” He murmured the words low and husky, gazing into her eyes.
“I can’t believe you did that.” Only a sorcerer could initiate a Soul Oath, creating a binding contract between two parties written on their souls in magic rather than ink on paper.
“If it restores even a fraction of your faith in me, then it’s worth it. There are so many reasons to want you, Rosalia, and none of them are related to your womb. I crave you for your wit, your intelligence. Your compassion. Your courage. How many other thieves would risk their lives to infiltrate a naval ship without ba
ckup, without anyone to aid them? Who else would have the courage to stand against the crown when all others have perished? Each time the fates throw a challenge your way, you accomplish the impossible and—”
“Because my mother was a djinn.”
“Because you place your heart in everything you do. You’re one of a kind Rosalia, not only for who you are, but the things you choose to do.”
Her eyes burned. “Xavier…”
When she rose on tiptoe, he met her halfway and covered her lips with his in another sizzling kiss, flicking his tongue against the roof of her mouth and devouring the pleased moan that came next. Strong hands delved beneath her tunic and slid over her ribs, crawling upward until he cupped her breasts in both palms. They fit as if they’d been molded to her shape.
He peeled her tunic off and leaned back to gaze down at her with unabashed wonder. Her body flushed from head to toe, and her nipples tightened under his gaze. He thumbed one, rolling the rough pad over the sensitive tip, teasing it and sighing.
“Every inch of you is perfection.”
He leaned down to place a kiss against the same tightened bud, and she arched her back, moaning when he took it between his lips.
“Be mine tonight.”
How could she resist? Perhaps it was his earnest confession and heartfelt words, or maybe it had nothing to do with what he said and everything to do with how he made her feel. She burned for him, her body hot with excitement no man had ever stirred before.
“Yes.”
Xavier scooped her from the floor and carried her to a chamber beyond the enormous treasure vault with an elvish four-poster bed. They fell into it together in a tangle of limbs, and the mattress greeted them like it was made of clouds. Cool linens and plush jasmora blankets instead of fine, slippery silk.
His lips traced over her throat. He nibbled. “I never meant to deceive you.”
“I know.”
“Do you forgive me?”
Rosalia slid her hands over his broad shoulders and pushed back, guiding him beneath her on the expansive mattress. “You’re wearing too much.”
Fool's Gold: a Fantasy Romance (Daughter of Fortune Book 2) Page 14
