Dragon's Mate: A DragonFate Novel (The DragonFate Novels Book 4)

by Deborah Cooke

  Rania stopped at the page they had read last, and glanced up at him. “This is about me.”

  Hadrian nodded.

  “She set a trap for me all along.”

  He nodded again. “And you were just a kid. Totally out of line.”

  “You were right,” Rania acknowledged, closing the book. “You warned me about Maeve and you were right, but I didn’t believe you. She tricked me in the end, claiming that she’d killed you so that didn’t count as the fulfillment of my obligation.” She took a deep breath. “She’s captured my brothers and intends to roast them for the court, one at a time, unless I choose and kill another Pyr.” She made a face. “I really don’t want to kill Alasdair.”

  Hadrian smiled. “I know he volunteered, but you’re right. He shouldn’t die.”

  “Because Maeve will twist the deal again and he’ll die for nothing,” Rania said. “Maybe Kade?” She met Hadrian’s gaze again.

  He shook his head. “No Pyr deaths.”

  “It wouldn’t be for the team,” she said. “I understand.” She frowned. “But then I’m trapped forever.”

  “No.” Hadrian shook his head, remembering what had eluded him. “I thought she came to kill me to get even for the loss of her warriors, but that wasn’t it.”

  “She came to destroy your gloves.”

  “Not just that. She came because I melted the Fae blades.”

  Rania watched him. “They froze first, then melted. Was that because they weren’t in Fae?”

  “It was because my mother spun the ice into silver and my foster mother forged the silver into blades for the Fae.”

  Rania’s eyes lit with sudden understanding. “And you’re the one who can undo it all, just with your presence. The ice dragon summons frost and cold...”

  He grinned at her. “I’m thinking we should go to Fae. I could destroy their entire armory and maybe even more.” He was thinking of the gem of the hoard, but didn’t even want to say that out loud.

  “How long would it take?”

  “I don’t know. We’d need a distraction.”

  She shook her head. “But you were trapped there before. It wouldn’t be safe. If she catches you again, you’ll never escape.”

  The fact that Rania was concerned about his welfare reinforced Hadrian’s convictions that they belonged together. “That’s why we need a plan.” He nodded at her. “We’re destined mates, Rania, and that makes us a team. We’ll solve this together. You know the court and you can get us right to the armory. You know the pitfalls and how we can avoid them. We can break the curse over you and save your brothers, too.”

  She frowned a little, the light of the firestorm caressing her features. “You don’t think this firestorm is going to give us away?”

  “Not if we satisfy it.”

  She jumped off the counter then and paced the room. He could almost hear her thinking—and her excitement. They were onto something! “I had the malice of the kiss of death and didn’t know what to do with it,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to give it to anyone, but this salamander appeared and told me to follow it. I thought maybe it was in old-speak.” She looked up at him and Hadrian smiled.

  “That would have been Rafferty. He’s the only one of the Pyr who can become a salamander and manifest elsewhere. Was he opal and gold?”

  Rania nodded.

  “Where did he lead you?”

  “I’m not sure. It might have been Fae.” She shrugged. “I exhaled it all there, as he suggested. There was a dandelion flower and he told me to blow the seeds.”

  “So the malice joined with the wind. Maybe that dispersed it, the reverse of how you gathered it.”

  “Maybe.”

  Hadrian folded his arms across his chest and smiled at her. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

  Rania shook her head, mystified.

  “Rafferty helped you. You’re already part of the Pyr team.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because he likes to see a firestorm satisfied. And you followed his instructions. You trusted him.”

  “It’s true,” she said, nodding slowly. “You trusted me by giving me back my bichuwa. Balthasar tried to save me, so he must trust me, too. And Alasdair told me that amazing story, and Rafferty helped me get rid of the malice.”

  “And Sara sent the book.”

  Hadrian watched Rania smile. “It made it all so much easier. I like being part of a team.” She said this last as if it was a surprise, but then she’d always been alone.

  “You just don’t want to stain that bichuwa,” he teased, liking how she laughed again.

  “Turns out I have a thing for dragon shifters,” she confessed, eyes dancing.

  “All dragon shifters?” he asked, pretending to be insulted.

  She laughed once more and poked him in the chest with her fingertip. “This dragon shifter.”

  “Want to do something about that?” Hadrian invited.

  “Maybe I do,” she said softly. “But maybe it’s not just up to me.” She surveyed him, a challenging gleam in her eyes. “You said I never asked my brothers what they thought before.”

  “Right.” Hadrian didn’t know where she was going with this.

  “Then let’s do it now. Hold on, dragon shifter, and think fast.”

  It was a playful warning but one Hadrian didn’t have time to figure out. Rania reached for him, shimmering on the cusp of change. Hadrian caught her hand and she laughed. He understood her joy in her abilities and knew they had that in common.

  Then everything spun around them. He felt nauseated and dizzy, but he held tightly to her hand. It was the only thing he could see. Even her slight form was lost in swirling mist and light.

  Suddenly the spinning stopped, as if they’d been kicked out of a cyclone. There was clear blue sky above them and a slight warm breeze. Far below were green hills and a body of blue water shone in the distance. He saw all that in the blink of an eye, then his mate shifted to her swan form and he lost his grip on her silky feathers.

  He was falling fast toward the earth, his shout caught in his throat. Think fast. Hadrian summoned the change and shifted shape, beating his wings hard as he flew in pursuit of his mate.

  She’d joined a flock of white swans which were flying in a V, as if that distant lake was their destination. He realized it was early in the day wherever they were as the sky was rosy in one direction. He reached the flock of swans and matched his pace to theirs, intrigued that he could distinguish Rania from the others.

  There were eight swans, nine including Rania. The others were larger birds and he sensed that they were male. She was smaller and more delicately built, plus there was a luminous shine to her feathers.

  All of the swans were pure white, with yellow beaks tipped in black. The wind whistled through their wings as they flew, and Hadrian found it a soothing sound. He knew they were watching him, and he hoped his gleaming dragon scales met with approval. They were graceful and beautiful, and more elegant than dragons.

  As they approached the lake, the lead swan made a low call that sounded like houp-houp to Hadrian and he guessed that the flock were being given directions. That lead swan led the flock to descend, and they followed so elegantly that their flight might have been choreographed. They landed on an island in the middle of the lake. There was no sign of humanity.

  There were rushes surrounding the island and he heard the croak of frogs. The air was damp and the ground flecked with dew. The swans landed, then immediately turned to confront Hadrian. He understood that he was an outsider. Rania landed and shifted shape, the other swans forming a barrier between her and Hadrian. Hadrian shifted shape, sensing that a negotiation would be better than a fight.

  The glow of the firestorm shone white between himself and Rania, competing with the light of the morning sun. The swans looked between them and at the light, and he had the sense they discussed it all.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  Rania looked aro
und, the wind lifting her hair. “Halfway to the Ukraine.”

  The swan that had been in the lead came toward Hadrian, head down and wings spread as he hissed in defense of Rania. The swan was almost as tall as Hadrian and much wider with his wings up.

  Hadrian suddenly realized who they had to be. “Your brothers,” he guessed and Rania smiled.

  “Yes, the ones who aren’t captive in Fae. I thought we should find out what they know.” She nodded. “I like to learn as much as possible when planning an attack.”

  It was a good strategy.

  “Edred?” Hadrian guessed. The swan hissed then snapped. Hadrian took a step back. “I hope he’s better looking in his other form.” Edred didn’t look amused.

  Rania didn’t smile either. “They can’t shift, remember. They’re cursed to be swans.”

  “And when the curse is broken, they’ll be mortal men again?”

  Rania nodded.

  Edred came closer, eyes glinting, and hissed at Hadrian again, punctuating that with a snap of his beak. “How about you do the talking?” Hadrian suggested to Rania and she laughed.

  Then she raised her hands, shimmered blue, shifted shape, and all he could do was watch. He didn’t feel powerless, though. He felt like they were each working with their strengths to solve their situation together, and he liked that a lot.

  He was winning the trust of the swan maiden, just as the prophecy said, and he liked the implication of that even better.

  “With a swan, you want to peel away the skin carefully,” the head cook of the Fae informed his assistant. They were trudging toward the cage where the Dark Queen had trapped her victims, and he was planning the feast that would result. It was twilight, because it was always twilight in Fae, and there were no stars overhead. There never were. Behind them, the court was carousing as usual, the music lilting and the mead flowing. He wanted to get this job done and head back to the party. “Then you save it until after the bird is roasted to perfection. Finally, you wrap the roasted bird in its feathers again for the presentation to the queen.”

  “Why?”

  The cook shook his head. No matter how long Tink served him, that Fae just didn’t learn much of anything. Tink was strong and bigger than most, he was willing to work long and hard, but the cook didn’t think he’d ever met a creature so dumb. “Because it looks better. It’s fancy.”

  Tink frowned and scratched his ear. There was a purple mark there, like a bruise—except the Fae didn’t get bruises. A wine stain maybe. But what was it doing on his ear? “But you can’t eat feathers. No one can.”

  “No one wants to,” the cook explained, seeing that Tink was still confused. “Think of it like wrapping on a gift.”

  “I like gifts,” Tink confided.

  “Everyone does, even the Dark Queen. Especially the Dark Queen. And this way, she can unwrap her dinner, like a surprise.”

  Tink’s brow furrowed. “But it’s not a surprise. Underneath the swan skin, there will be a swan.” He blinked in confusion. He scratched that ear a bit more and to the cook’s surprise, the ear became entirely purple.

  “What’s wrong with your ear?” he demanded.

  It was a normal ear for a Fae, a bit less pointed than the most attractive ones, but perfectly serviceable. The color, though, was distinctly odd. If anything, Fae skin tended toward brown hues or the greens of the forest, maybe the silvery grey of tree bark—but never purple.

  “My ear?” Tink echoed and scratched it again. “It’s itchy.” His claim made no sense.

  It made even less sense that the ear fell right off.

  They stopped together and stared down at it on the heath, both watching as the ear shriveled and curled. It looked like a dried leaf before it crumbled to dust and disappeared. The cook hadn’t smelled that scent of forest floor in a long time and he looked around, wondering what was happening to the magick.

  Everything looked normal, at least at a glance, except that one of Tink’s ears was gone. He beckoned to his assistant with impatience and hurried toward the cage. “We need to keep the heads, too,” he instructed. “In order to make the illusion complete.”

  “If you want a swan to look like a swan, why not leave it be a swan?” Tink asked, scratching the other ear. It was turning purple, too, and the cook had a strange feeling that time was passing too quickly.

  He felt a twinge of panic. Time passed slowly in Fae, if at all.

  He gripped the cord he’d brought to strangle the birds and hurried on. “So, we don’t want to damage the plumage,” he said to Tink, who looked at him blankly. “Since we need the feathers for later.” He shook his head with impatience. “Just hold them carefully but firmly.”

  They drew closer to the cage. The three swans began to hiss. They stuck their heads through the wooden bars and snapped at the cook and Tink, obviously having an idea of what was in store for them.

  “You go ahead,” the cook said cheerfully. “I’ll wait with the rope.”

  Tink gave him a look that was surprisingly shrewd. “I’m the assistant. I’ll keep the rope.” He then scratched his other ear so thoroughly that the cook could see the purple stain spread across his skin like a flood.

  “You’ll do what I tell you,” the cook said. “And stop scratching your ear!”

  “It’s not my ear I’m scratching. It’s the purple freckle.”

  “It’s not a freckle. Your whole ear is purple.”

  “So is your cheek,” Tink retorted and the cook realized that he was feeling a considerable itch. He reached up to give his cheek a little rub as Tink put a hand over his remaining ear and rubbed vigorously. That ear fell off, too, shriveling up just like the first one.

  Tink cried out in alarm as purple spots appeared on his arms and legs. He spun in place, swatting at them and complaining, but his voice rose high, then was silenced. The cook found a garter snake in front of himself, and no sign of Tink. It was particularly large garter snake and seemed to be as startled as the cook. It darted across the heath and disappeared, leaving the cook looking for his assistant.

  “Tink!” he shouted, rubbing his cheek all the while. “Get your lazy self back here! There’s work to be d—” He finished his sentence with a strange croak and found himself crouched on all fours on the ground. He surveyed himself, amazed to find that he’d become a leopard frog, albeit one with purple spots that gleamed silver before they turned dark.

  A swan snapped at him, that beak brushing against his back. He realized he could easily become lunch. The cook hopped away as quickly as he could, unable to explain his situation.

  Much less change himself back.

  Twelve

  The story in Hadrian’s book was incredible to Rania, like a fairy tale—but one that had happened to her. Although she’d never heard any of it, it felt familiar in a way she couldn’t explain. It had the resonance of truth.

  Just like the firestorm.

  Just like Hadrian’s trust of his fellow Pyr. He was never alone, even though he’d been orphaned, because he was surrounded by a team of fellow shifters who would even sacrifice themselves for his survival. She felt turned upside-down and inside-out, all of her preconceptions challenged, and yet, she felt alive for the first time ever.

  The firestorm had brought her an awakening and a second chance, an opportunity to make amends for what she’d done in the past and to shape a better future. Rania didn’t want to let that slip away.

  She’d never sought out her brothers. She’d never met them or been curious about them at all, and it had felt right to bring Hadrian to meet them. She liked the idea of having a family, just as he had his cousin, Alasdair. She’d flung them through space on impulse, but it was a whim that felt right.

  She loved how Hadrian accepted her dares and met her challenges. She loved that he never took her for granted and seemed to welcome adventure. That daredevil glint in his eyes made her heart skip and she hoped she had the opportunity to prompt it over and over again.

  She eyed the ring
on his hand, the one that she’d had all her life, the one that the story claimed was her father’s gift to her mother. She liked the look of it on Hadrian’s hand, which was why she hadn’t asked for it back. It looked right to her there.

  Had that been her father in her home in Iceland?

  Were there more swan shifters? The book said that her father had been the last of his kind, before her conception. Did he have other children? Did she have siblings who were shifters?

  If there were, they’d be on Maeve’s list of shifters to eliminate. Rania realized the Dark Queen didn’t intend that she’d survive, either, unless she continued to serve as an assassin. She’d been betrayed and deceived by the only one she trusted, because that had been the plan. The realization made her angry and she recognized that she’d never felt such passion before. There was joy and there was anger, there was desire, and she wanted to experience all the feelings on the spectrum.

  With Hadrian.

  There had only been three of her brothers in the cage in Fae. As soon as she had the idea of finding out more from the rest, she’d known it was the right answer. Asking them about Hadrian felt instinctively right, too. Even if she didn’t know her brothers, maybe they had her best interests at heart, too. Maybe they had ideas about family that were similar to Hadrian’s. They’d stuck together all these years, after all.

  They might also have some knowledge of Maeve’s plan to share.

  Rania couldn’t help but notice how the swans divided her from Hadrian, their postures protective and defensive. They had to know who she was and, even though she was a stranger to them, the blood bond was strong enough that they’d protect her. That was encouraging.

  She shifted shape as Hadrian watched with such obvious admiration that she felt warm to her toes. To her relief, once in her swan form, Edred’s hissing made sense to her. The others gathered closer, still keeping a barrier between her and Hadrian, and she wanted to laugh that they were all talking at once. They were excited to see her! They welcomed her. Her heart glowed with what she hadn’t even realized she’d been missing.