Caged: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 4) Page 14

  Yes he’d given her power, but skill? That might take years. And how long could he keep his secret from her that he was Atavantador? Already he found he wanted to tell her, to share with her his plans and fears. But he’d sworn a vow. And it wasn’t just his vow at stake, it was the little queen egg’s safety. She was depending on him.

  Siobhan was a good person. She’d put her life on the line for her brother and he’d seen her determination. But would she put the tiny dragon’s needs before those of her own? Her people’s? Her brother’s?

  Could he trust her?

  As her breathing slowed and she fell asleep in his arms, he knew—she wasn’t a dragon but he already trusted her more than anyone he’d ever met in this world.

  But was it enough?

  He lay there, not sleeping, just enjoying the feel of Siobhan in his arms, his thoughts chasing their tails around in his brain. There was a tug on his magic, like a fish on a line. Someone was at his door.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Doyle eased out of bed, reluctant to leave Siobhan, but knowing the necessity. She was exhausted, the curve of her cheek softened in sleep. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable. A fierce protective longing rose up in him. He stared in puzzlement at her sleeping form. He’d done everything he could to protect her, hadn’t he? Why did he feel like it wasn’t enough, like there was something incomplete about their relationship, something else he needed to do?

  The impulse to touch her had him reaching for her and stroking her face. She murmured in her sleep, then settled back in. His magic alarm tugged at him again and he quietly grabbed his clothes and left. Following the magical tug he strode naked down the hall to his lair, but his mind was still back in bed with Siobhan.

  Despite her silly pledge to him, he had no binding to take anything with her further, so why did he want to? And where would they go? He had responsibilities that would supersede anything he could give to her. And, despite her vow of loyalty, he knew—it had been made under severe duress and meant nothing in the long run.

  The alarm led straight to the landing area outside his private cave. He dropped his clothes in his lair and shifted, heading for the hidden entrance, but he knew who was out there before he even stuck his head out. “What brings you here, brother?”

  Carrig perched on a jagged spar of rock overlooking the valley, his brown coat gleaming golden in the sun. He stretched out his wings in greeting. “I came to see if you really needed help, but I find you fucking some girl. You must not need us very badly.”

  Doyle’s own wings shot out in agitation and he rose up on his hind legs. “I take a few minutes to let off some stress and you come round.”

  “So, you don’t need me.”

  “Of course I do.” He forced himself to relax his aggressive posture, lowering his wings. He needed any help he could get and antagonizing the other drake wouldn’t help. “I wouldn’t have asked for help if I didn’t need it.” He furled his wings tightly to his side, the bitter weight of futility pressing down on him. “Why are you here, Carrig? I thought you couldn’t leave your egg?”

  “I shouldn’t, but she’s safe enough for the moment. We have no idea how many of our eggs will successfully hatch and we need each and every one if dragon kind is to survive. Your egg is just as important as my own.” Carrig tilted his head, his amber eyes flashing. “And that’s why I’m shocked that you have an elvatian wench in your cave. What about our vow? What about keeping our flesh sides secret from this world? If anyone finds out we can shift and how vulnerable we are in that state, we’ll all be sleepless with trying to protect ourselves.”

  “Do you sleep in humanoid form?” Doyle shook his head. “I never do. Too dangerous.” But he’d been tempted to sleep in Siobhan’s arms. Very tempted. Another reason he shouldn’t get further involved with the girl.

  “All it takes is one knife to the throat, asleep or not. You can’t trust anyone. Not until our queens are hatched and reach adulthood.”

  As angry as Carrig made him, Doyle understood. “Look, I get it. From a world with thousands to protect a single queen, we’ve come down to just seven. But you’ll have to take my word for it, she’s not a threat.”

  “How do you know? Dragons are seen as nearly invincible in this world, but you and I know, we are far from invulnerable. The humanoid form isn’t our only weakness.”

  “We’ve been guarding these eggs for so long. Don’t you ever get tired or lonely? ”

  “Of course. But the worry and the waiting are nearly over. They will all be hatched.”

  “And then we’ll each be parents. Away from our home world and the nannies and the extended families—all the rest of the things that help raise dragonets. Who will watch your queen when you hunt for her? Who will make sure she doesn’t burn her own room down? Who will show her what it means to be a female in a world where her only contemporaries are seven adult male dragons or seven baby queens.” Doyle paced on his ledge. “I’ve stayed awake nights worrying about these things. Haven’t you?”

  “Of course, but what choice do we have? Opening ourselves up to the denizens of this world is opening ourselves and our queens to danger. Without these queens, dragons are dead.”

  “I went back.” Doyle’s voice dropped so low he wasn’t sure Carrig could even hear him. “To Vollenth.”

  Carrig hissed. His wings shot out and his toes curled, his claws digging into the rock. “Did you see him?” His jaw stayed half-open revealing his double row of teeth and his agitation.

  “No, but I saw his minions.”

  “Why did you go back?” Carrig shook himself off, and curled his wings in, hunching on his perch and staring accusingly at Doyle.

  “It wasn’t intentional.” He didn’t want to tell Carrig about Siobhan’s mishap or that it might have somehow been his fault that when the portal opened they ended up on Vollenth. Had he been somehow wishing to go back? Had that been why they’d ended up there? No matter what he’d remembered of his world the truth of it now was horrible. “The land is completely scorched.”

  “But they’re alive.”

  “Yes. I don’t know how.”

  Carrig rose up on his hindquarters and shook out his wings. “It’s more important than ever that we keep our secrets. If he finds out we have the queens here, he’ll come after them.”

  “He has an entire world now. What would he want with them?”

  “He’s sick with power lust. He’s feeding off of the magic of the planet, but when he runs out, he’ll be looking for more. He’ll come here.”

  “He might not.”

  “No. He might choose some other benighted world with no dragons to defend it. When that happens, he might leave us alone. But do you truly believe he’ll leave us alone if he finds out we have the queens?”

  “No.” He stared out over the Forest of Pines, the green trees stretching for miles, each tree sheltering more magic than was left in a square foot of Vollenth.

  Monoleeath had sucked so much magic out of their home world that dragon kind had almost perished. Millions had died of starvation and the rest in the war. When the remaining queens had realized what was happening and banded together for a last stance, it had been too late. He’d taken all the magic he’d sucked up and killed every queen left, and sworn to kill anyone who’d ever opposed him.

  “I’d go back,” Carrig said quietly. “I’d fight him again, but we failed the last time, we’d fail this time. He’s grown too powerful. And besides, we have a mission.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you? Do you really? Then why do I find you screwing up? Letting some girl into your lair and losing control of where your egg is?”

  “I’m not at fault for Maeve and her spider’s hold over the egg’s location. I left her here, safe and hidden, when I answered our world’s last call. The magic should have protected her. It still protects her. No one knows she’s there, buried under the palace. No one has found her. She’s safe.”

  “Only until she hatches. Then
you’ll have to get her out.”

  “Why do you think I asked for your help?” Doyle’s tail lashed from side to side. It was all he could do to keep his wings tight to his sides. “Why are you here, anyway? Is it just to show me all my failings?”

  “No. It’s to tell you that I will answer your call. My egg is safe and if you can get this settled before her hatching starts, I’ll come.”

  Relief washed over Doyle. “But you turned me down before.”

  “I declined to have all of us commit to come help you. All of our eggs are near hatching and I can’t promise the timing will be right, but if it is, I’ll be here for you. You’re my sworn brother in arms—and I’ll come if I can.”

  Doyle dropped his head low and bowed. “Thank you.” Gratitude choked his voice and the words were nearly too quiet to hear, but Carrig nodded his acceptance.

  The brown dragon’s lips pulled back in a grin that would have sent villagers running for their lives. “But I recommend you slake your lusts anywhere besides your own cave.” His hindquarters bunched and he took off wheeling into the sky. “Get rid of the wench, before you regret it.” His wings caught the sunlight, sending bright light into Doyle’s eyes before he opened his portal and winked out of sight.

  Doyle stared into the sky where Carrig had disappeared, relief warring with uncertainty.

  Get rid of Siobhan. The woman sleeping in his bed whose soft skin tempted him beyond reason. The one he wished he could trust with his true nature and whisper all his secrets to.

  Is that what he should do? Chuck her out into the snow and focus all his energy on his mission? Somehow the very idea of losing her was just as devastating as the loss of his entire world. And that didn’t make any sense at all.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Ardan stumbled out of the iron storage room. Despite the heavy protective spells, his skin burned and his entire body ached as if he’d been practicing his sword-play for days. He peered through watering eyes and found his way to the decontamination chamber near the tower’s exit. The cool rush of healing magic flushed the toxins from his system, but even so, when he left the room, he still ached and he wondered at the permanent damage being done to his body.

  He sank onto the recovery bench next to a man with the overly large ears and the deep craggy wrinkles and clouded eyes of someone close to their tenth millennium.

  “Greetings, elder.”

  “Captain Ardan.”

  He hadn’t had the chance to learn many of the workers’ names, but they’d all figured out who he was immediately.

  “Is it always draining like this?” Even after all the healing had cleansed him, he still felt like he could sit on the bench and not move for days.

  The old man cracked a smile. “Heh! That’s a good one.” His smile disappeared back into the wrinkles and the dark shadows reappeared in his eyes. “No. It gets worse every time.”

  “Oh.” Deep depression sank into him.

  To take dragon bone—a substance so filled with magic it almost didn’t exist without it—and blend it with iron, the bane of every magic-using creature in the worlds. This was a Herculean task. It might take years. Or it might not even be possible and he only had days. And with workers getting sick just by being in the same room with the iron there was no way he’d accomplish what the queen wanted. There would be no dragon chains. Or net. Or any way to control the beast.

  The weight of his body got suddenly heavier. “We’re all dead, aren’t we? She’ll have no choice but to kill all of us when we fail.” And they would fail. There was no doubt. He sank his head into his hands.

  “Cheer up, boy. At least the queen’s death will be quick. Iron poisoning’s a slow way to die.”

  Ardan snorted a laugh, knowing he sounded as humorless as the old man next to him. “Maybe, if we had time, we could figure out a solution. But I’m the queen’s last-ditch solution and I have no idea what to do. You’ve all tried so many things, and nothing’s worked. The bone rejects the iron every time.”

  “I told them before, we need a dwarf. But nobody listens to an old man.”

  “What?”

  “A dwarf.” The old man sighed. “And not just any dwarf. We need Ringwold.”

  “Who’s Ringwold?”

  “He’s a master at his craft. Holds more knowledge in his thumb about metals than any of us here have in our entire heads. We’re elvatian, and worse than that, we’re all Tuathan—lazy to the core. Most of us know how to wield a sword, but to craft one? We buy the fuckers from the source.”

  “The dwarves.”

  “The dwarves.”

  They sat in silence and watched the next man stumble from the chamber to the other bench, his skin a pasty shade of green.

  “But why Ringwold? Surely there are other dwarves who would do.”

  “He’s the best. And he’s close. Lives in the piney forest near Cairngloss, the old gnome palace. But you won’t get him. Nor any of them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Queen pissed them off years ago. None of the dwarves will set foot here anymore, let alone a master craftsman.”

  For a moment there, he’d had a trace of hope. But he should have known better. Nothing was working on this project. Nothing could.

  The man across the way perked up. “He’ll come.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You just have to pay ‘im. Dwarves are greedy sons of bitches.”

  Ardan sat up. “The queen has plenty of gold and silver. Payment won’t be an issue.”

  Both men snorted and exchanged glances. “Dwarves like silver, and they like gold,” the man said. “But, if you want to get one here, you’ll have to pay them what they truly desire.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Dunno, depends on the dwarf. They’ll sell their own mother for the right price. And the right job. Figure out what he truly wants and you’ll get ‘em up here.”

  “My thanks, gentlemen.” Ardan stood up and nodded to both men.

  “Don’t thank us. It’s your balls on the line, and you’re the one going dwarf hunting. Might as well say good-bye to you now, as we won’t be seeing you again.”

  Despite the men’s gloomy looks and wishes, Ardan felt better. Much better. Finally, something was going right. It was time to gear up and go find a dwarf.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Sparkling frost fae flitted in the air over Siobhan’s head, their sparkle catching the early morning light. She laughed and held out her arms, letting first sea-ice green Icene then light blue Chrystala perch on their extended length. Her arms sagged with the weight of the tiny winged women and she shook her head at Frosheth. “No, I can’t hold three of you.”

  Frosheth shook her own head furiously side to side, tiny ice chimes ringing with each movement. She flew to Siobhan’s face and buzzed her wings lightly on her skin, before giggling and flitting off to flirt with a passing snow jay. The other fae sprang to the sky and chased after her. Soon the three were lost to Siobhan’s sight.

  As she stared into the distance, small dots appeared on the horizon, winging toward her with such speed she threw up her arms to protect her face. But she needn’t have bothered. Icene, Frosheth and Chrystala sailed past, stirring Siobhan’s hair with their giggles. Then they were back up in the sky, the tails of their laughter tinkling in her ears.

  She shook out her arms and laughed. Everything was a blessing today. The sun sparkling off of the snow. Her new friends. Her new power. Her spirits were light, but it had less to do with the antics of the frost fae and more to do with her own antics with Doyle the night before.

  Doyle...

  Thinking about him sent warmth spiraling to her core. She’d been so tired, she’d fallen asleep in his arms. He’d been gone this morning, but she couldn’t wait to see him again. Touch him again. Have sex with him again and again until she couldn’t move with how good she felt.

  She used her Gift to sculpt a silly ice heart statue, with lacy curls on the edge. Somet
hing that would have taken her a good hour to do before took seconds. Then she blasted it out of existence, the powdery dust exploding up and sprinkling down to melt on her nose and cheeks.

  The tingle of the dragon on her neck reminded her—this little sculpture was nothing. She could draw on the power she now had and blast a hole in the side of the mountain. Take out boulders and carve new channels for the spring run-off. Or kill someone.

  She sobered up.

  This power was formidable. It was more than enough to face any one of the queen’s troops, once she mastered how to use it. And once she could control the portals, she’d be able to get in and out of the palace with ease. At least she hoped so. The farther north a portal was set the more unpredictable its outcome. Maybe she’d wait on that, but the rest of it? She spun in place, laughing in the sun.

  She’d been suspicious of Doyle when he’d given the dragon tattoo to her and she’d come close to telling him to take it back. But now, seeing what she could do, she couldn’t turn it down. She had to keep it or give up any ideas she had of facing Maeve.

  Once she’d mastered this power, she’d no longer have to hide out in the cave with the dragon. She’d be ten steps further on her path to finding out what had happened to Bosco. And maybe even keep the queen from destroying more young lives.

  She sculpted a statue of the Winter Queen in her long gown. Her icy arms were held up, as if to strike someone down, and the expression on her face was fierce. “Hmm, not bad.” The frost fae clustered around her, chiming their pleasure in her work. “I think this dragon power has even made my sculpting better.”

  She gathered power, ready to blast the figure of the queen out of existence.

  “Better fly, girls, shrapnel coming.” She pointed her fingers and let the bolt of magic go. It flew out, and the queen exploded, just as the frozen heart had. Splinters of ice flew and Siobhan threw up her hand to block them from her eyes. She opened them and let the fine remains of the ice queen float down on to her uplifted face. “Soon, Your Majesty, soon I’ll have you at my mercy.”