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

by Deborah Cooke

  Sebastian sat up. He had the book in his hand, the book that Sara had sent. “There’s not much left. You should read it.” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose you thought the firestorm was more important.”

  Hadrian bit his tongue to keep from asking the vampire how he knew how much they’d read. Sebastian had probably been hanging around the night before, unbeknownst to the Pyr. He could only barely discern the vampire’s scent, and that was only because he was concentrating. Sebastian must not have feasted recently, because then he’d smell of blood.

  Come to think of it, the vampire did look glittery and insubstantial.

  “How did you get in?” Hadrian asked.

  “Please.” Sebastian’s expression was pained. “Don’t even glorify those trinkets by calling them locks.” He stood up and stretched, looking like a wild and unpredictable predator. Hadrian didn’t trust him one bit. Sebastian spared a glance at the windows and grimaced. Hadrian realized the sun was rising. “I don’t suppose you have black-out blinds anywhere in this place?”

  “In the loft,” Hadrian said. He crossed the room and plucked the book from the vampire’s hands, then quickly found the spot where they’d left off. Rania followed him, wearing one of his shirts and not much else, her feet bare and her hair loose. He wished the vampire hadn’t been there, because another round would have been great. Even though the firestorm was extinguished, he was still keenly aware of her and wanted her all over again.

  He could hear Alasdair stirring in the loft and Balthasar in the spare room behind the office. He began to read aloud, as Rania started to make coffee.

  “The witch could only watch as her spells came undone throughout the village and people turned against her. She fled the village and into the wilderness, pursued by the villagers and in despair. She had lost her lover and her child, as well as her wager with Maeve and her magick. In the darkness of the night, she fell into a ravine and broke her leg, then was eaten by wolves when she could not escape them.

  The swan-prince returned to the palace, hoping to see his daughter and his beloved, but he arrived too late. He found only the queen dead in her chamber, the villain who had been her spouse dead beside her. There was no sign of the small boy he had met previously, of the ring he had given the queen, or of the lady’s newly born child. Those who remained in the palace were in the midst of fleeing the place and he could learn nothing of the child’s fate.

  He made one last wish, for he had a small measure of magick himself. He wished that when his child wondered about him or about his queen, he would know of it. He vowed then to find and reveal himself to his child, drawn by that query. To be sure, though, he wasn’t even sure the child lived. Despondent at the death of his beloved, he left the palace to mourn his loss in solitude.”

  Rania spun to look at him, her lips parted in surprise. Obviously that part meant something to her, but she flicked a glance at the vampire—who was listening avidly—and turned back to the coffee pot.

  Hadrian understood that she’d tell him later.

  He kept reading.

  “The palace fell into disrepair after that, for there was no one to govern it, either justly or unjustly. The people abandoned the place, for there was no food and no coin to be had. The neighboring lands had been pillaged and robbed, so those survivors scattered wide in search of new homes. The palace steadily crumbled over the years, becoming a pile of broken stone, forgotten in the wilderness. Only the wild creatures took shelter there, including a dozen wild swans that returned each year on Midwinter’s Day. They flew in a circle around what remained of the high tower, trumpeting their sad song, then left again.

  The child, Rania, was raised in Fae, which was a curious situation indeed. There are no children in Fae, for the Fae are immortal. They neither age nor grow: they simply are. For a while, they found the child to be a marvel, but ultimately their interest dimmed and young Rania spent her time alone.”

  Alasdair and Balthasar entered the main room then, each clearly surprised to find Sebastian lounging on the couch. They exchanged glances then joined Rania in the kitchen. Balthasar put the last slice of pizza in the microwave, while Alasdair began to fry bacon.

  “The Fae are also not known for their empathy: each is essentially selfish, concerned only with his or her own pleasure. They certainly can be cruel. Rania, as a result, had no one to teach her to care, and no one particularly to care for. This might have been bad enough, but Maeve had a plan for the child’s future and ensured it would come to fruition. She distrusted the influence of the child’s mortality. She had slipped a shard of ice into the palm of the infant as soon as she had seized her from the witch’s hut. Being a magickal spell of its own kind, that shard of ice worked its way ever deeper into Rania until it reached her heart. Once there, it froze her heart solid, making her incapable of sympathy for any other being.”

  Hadrian paused for a moment, reading that passage again in silence. Rania’s solitude and her ability to even keep Maeve’s bargain was the result of a kind of spell. She’d been trapped by Maeve from infancy and had never had a chance of choosing otherwise. He looked up to find her watching him, her eyes wide with surprise.

  The Dark Queen had manipulated her, and here was the proof.

  “Do continue,” Sebastian urged in a bored tone.

  “The shard of ice had done its damage by the time Rania came into her ability to change shape. She was clumsy with these transitions at first, for there was no one to tutor her in the endless twilight of Fae, but she persisted and mastered her powers in time. Once she had become an adult, adept with her skills, and cold of heart, Maeve put the rest of her plan into action. Rania knew little of Maeve’s true nature, for the Dark Queen had been the one most likely to show her kindness. She knew she owed Maeve a debt for raising her, too. Rania trusted Maeve, just as the Dark Queen had planned.

  Maeve told Rania the tale of her brothers’ enchantment, showing them to her in a vision, then offered Rania the opportunity to free them. There was enough emotion left in Rania’s heart that she felt an obligation to her own kin, a desire to please Maeve, and a need for some family of her own. She took Maeve’s bargain, agreeing to make thirteen assassinations for the Dark Queen in exchange for the freedom of herself and her brothers.

  She had made twelve kills when she felt the spark of the firestorm, when the kiss of the ice dragon drew Maeve’s splinter of ice out of her heart.”

  Hadrian fell silent and the three Pyr looked at Rania. “Is it true?” Balthasar asked.

  “I think so,” she said. “The parts I know are true, so the rest must be as well.”

  “A splinter of ice in your heart?” Alasdair said, grimacing.

  “She tricked you,” Hadrian said to Rania.

  “Even more than I’d realized.” Her heart was in her eyes. “I saw the splinter of ice,” she told him, putting out her hand and tapping her palm with her fingertip. “I didn’t know what it was. It came out of my palm after we first met, after we...” She blushed as Hadrian grinned in recollection of what they’d been doing. “And then everything felt different.” She shrugged. “It was as if I could feel for the first time ever.”

  “Not like that,” Sebastian said. “It was that. But you’re missing the most salient detail.”

  They all turned to look at him, mystified.

  He raised his hands in exasperation. “You were the wrong child. You weren’t the promised tithe.” Rania and Hadrian gasped simultaneously. “Maeve adores technicalities, especially when she can break a deal because of one. I would dearly love to witness the moment that she realizes she’s in your debt, for putting that splinter in your heart and compelling you to act against your will, with no justifiable cause on her part.”

  “I didn’t enter Fae willingly,” Rania said slowly.

  “You were seized, and enchanted,” Hadrian said. “Against your will.”

  “Who would volunteer for such a fate? No, she was wrong.” Sebastian shook his head as he mused. “What would s
he owe you for such injustice?”

  “You were in her thrall for a thousand years,” Hadrian said.

  “Twelve assassinations,” Rania said.

  “Not to mention a splinter of ice in your heart,” Alasdair reminded them.

  “I’m thinking the breaking of the curse on your brothers would be a good start,” Hadrian said.

  Rania lifted her wrist to display the red cord. “And the disappearance of this.”

  “You dream too small,” Sebastian said, strolling toward the counter. Rania poured him a cup of coffee which he sipped tentatively. “Columbian,” he said and sipped again. “Better than I expected.”

  It was clear that the vampire’s expectations were low, but Hadrian didn’t care. “You have a better idea?” he asked, suspecting that the vampire was waiting for the question.

  “The complete annihilation of her kingdom,” Sebastian said with surprising bitterness. He looked up and his eyes shone with fury. “And the scattering of her miserable magick. I would see her helpless, for once and for all.”

  “It probably won’t last,” Alasdair noted. “She’ll summon the magick again.”

  “But the interval would be sweet while it lasted,” Sebastian said. “Perhaps even long enough for the Others to create a viable plan for their own survival.”

  Hadrian and Rania exchanged a glance. “Can you get us into Fae today?” he asked her. “Without the Dark Queen knowing it?”

  Rania nodded but Sebastian cleared his throat. “Your petty ambitions will be the end of me,” he murmured. “I would suggest that you consider the merit of making a more cohesive plan.” He gave Rania a scathing look. “I expect dragons to lunge in without a scheme, relying on brute force to get the job done, but had hoped for more from you. After all, you’re an assassin. You’re supposed to be stealthy and organized.”

  “We’d have a better chance of success with a distraction,” Rania said. “That way, they can draw her ire while we destroy the armory and free my brothers.” She frowned. “But who would enter the Fae realm willingly?”

  “Not me,” Alasdair said flatly.

  “And how would anyone else get in?” she continued. “I can’t move an army: just taking you will max me out.”

  “There’s a Fae court under a mound near here somewhere,” Alasdair said. “Your father used that portal to save your mother.”

  “Centuries ago,” Balthasar said. “It’s probably under a shopping mall now.”

  “The more important issue is who would distract the Fae,” Rania said. “If we can figure that out, we might see how to get them in.”

  “You must know that there are many in Manhattan who would avenge themselves upon the Dark Queen for recent deaths,” Sebastian said.

  “Others,” Alasdair said. “After those surprise attacks.”

  “More than Others,” Sebastian reminded them. “The mates of the wolf shifters slaughtered in Alaska are keen to defend their children and have retribution for their losses.” He shook his head. “I would not want to face the wrath of those mortal women.”

  “But they’re in Manhattan,” Hadrian protested. “And they still have to get into Fae. It’s not going to work. Rania and I will have to stage a sneak attack and hope for the best.”

  Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Murray sealed the portal at Bones,” Balthasar reminded them.

  “I wish those Fae swords hadn’t melted away,” Hadrian said with frustration. “We could have sliced ourselves a portal between realms.”

  Sebastian smiled slightly and sipped his coffee, apparently reassured.

  Hadrian and Rania exchanged a glance.

  “Do you know where we can get a Fae sword?” she asked Sebastian.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Where?” Hadrian asked. It was annoying that every detail had to be drawn out of the vampire.

  “I happen to have a Fae sword,” Sebastian replied. “And I don’t actually need it.”

  The other four exchanged glances.

  “I’m going to guess that you have a price,” Hadrian guessed.

  “I do.” Sebastian put down his mug on the counter. “But it’s a wager I must make with Micah. If we come to terms, he can deliver the sword to Bones in time.”

  “In time?” Alasdair asked.

  “You should wait until the full moon to attack,” Sebastian said, his tone pedantic. “Everyone knows that’s the time to enter Fae, and that will be on Thursday, just four days from now.” He sighed and shook his head.

  “We’ll have time to coordinate our attack,” Balthasar said.

  “I wonder how Quinn is doing with those talons,” Alasdair said, pulling out his phone. “If the Pyr are armed, it will be better.”

  “It takes time for you to melt the weapons,” Rania said to Hadrian. “Maybe you should enter Fae sooner to get started.”

  Hadrian recalled her mother’s advice and wondered whether he could destroy the gem of the hoard, as well. That would really make a difference to Maeve’s power, but he didn’t even want to mention it aloud in the vampire’s presence. Could Sebastian really be trusted?

  “A multi-prong attack,” Alasdair said, grabbing a piece of paper. “We need a plan.”

  Hadrian had turned to study the vampire. “Why are you here?” he asked. “It seems unlikely that you just stopped by to help.”

  Sebastian laughed. “A little out of character, you might say.”

  “I would,” Hadrian agreed. “I think anyone would. You’re being helpful and that makes me wonder what you really want.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” the vampire acknowledged. “Allow me to explain.” He produced a small cube and Hadrian realized it was a jeweler’s ring box. He tossed it to Hadrian who caught it but didn’t immediately look inside. He wasn’t sure he should. “I’d take care of that now, if I were you. When she finds out that I chose not to keep my end of the deal, things may get ugly.” He nodded at the box. “You don’t want that to fall into the wrong hands.”

  Hadrian opened the box and stared at the glittering sliver of ice. It was another splinter, probably with identical powers to the one that had melted from Rania’s heart. “The Dark Queen wants her assassin back,” he guessed and the vampire inclined his head. “She sent you to deliver this.” Sebastian nodded again, even as Hadrian indicated to Rania that she should back away. “Why are you breaking the deal?”

  “Let’s just say I prefer an alternative solution,” Sebastian said. He nodded once, then pushed aside the coffee mug, his lips drawing to a resolute line. When he looked up again, his gaze burned. “Sometimes, something—or someone—has to change.”

  He put a strange emphasis on the last word, but Hadrian didn’t want to know the vampire’s secrets. He had a lot to do and an invasion of Fae to plan, with his destined mate by his side.

  First things first. He closed his hand over the box, feeling the splinter begin to melt.

  Thirteen

  Semyaza.

  Sylvia went through all the online resources she could find, and accessed the academic archives, too. She checked obscure print books in the library collection, doctoral theses, research and new translations. She chased down every lead, compiling information, sources and cross-indexing as she worked. She loved every minute of the hunt, even though it took her a while.

  Semyaza was said to be the leader of the fallen angels who had descended to Earth to couple with mortal women. Two hundred angels of the heavenly host had accompanied him—they hadn’t just mated with women, they’d taught mortals a wide array of skills and shared hidden knowledge.

  His name meant ‘he who sees the name,’ meaning the name of God.

  In the Book of Enoch, Semyaza was the leader who doubted that the renegade angels, despite their desire to seduce mortal women, really would foreswear the celestial realm. Those rebels were called the Watchers—or the Grigori—and they swore an oath together to descend to earth and satisfy their lust.

&nb
sp; Their sons were called giants, or the Nephilim, and proved to be a destructive generation. The Watchers themselves indulged in every pleasure and crime, and became a plague on human society.

  They did, however, teach men sorcery, metallurgy, weaponry, medicine, seductive ornamentation and the use of cosmetics, and more. This incurred the wrath of God, who sent his angels to compel the Watchers to battle each other and their sons, then bound the survivors in a valley for seventy generations. God then sent the flood to cleanse the lands of their corruption.

  Sylvia wondered whether that was the whole story or not.

  Variations of Semyaza’s name, depending on the source, included Semyaz, Sahjaza, Semjaza, Shamazya, Semiaza, Shamchazai, Shamhazai, Shamiazaz, Azza, Ouza, and Amezyarak.

  One source said Semyaza was tempted by the maiden Ishtahar to reveal the explicit name of God.

  Another declared that he remains suspended between Heaven and Earth as punishment for his transgressions. He is said to be constantly falling, with one eye shut and the other open, aware of his plight but unable to affect it. He now hangs, head down, and is the constellation of Orion.

  The Book of Enoch said that Azazel had taught men the arts of metallurgy, while Semyaza had taught them of enchantments and root-cuttings.

  Enchantments were magick.

  Sylvia knew that magick and medicine were two sides of the same coin in many societies. She considered her note, then turned the long white feather in the light. She thought about Mel calling Sebastian the Watcher, about him being present when the fallen angel emerged from Fae with Maeve’s book, waiting for that quest to be completed. She recalled his comment about several thousand years on this spinning rock, then had to acknowledge his interest in mortal women, given her own experiences with him.

  He said he hated magick.

  Hate was so often the flip side of love. Sylvia had to wonder whether Sebastian was the tutor she needed to master her inherited skills. If he’d been the first instructor in the dark arts, he was the original source.