Caged: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 4) Page 20

  “Take that, Maeve!” Screw the queen and her portal shielding spell. Siobhan was flying to the rescue over the trees. She’d be there before morning. No portal necessary.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  By the time Doyle flew home over the trees of the Forest of Pines, it was nearly dawn. The storm had passed. The world was hushed and quiet with new snow and a strange feeling washed over him. Knowing Siobhan was asleep in his bed, waiting for him, made the entire lair a different place. For the first time since he’d taken over the cavern on the back of Cairngloss it actually felt like home. How long had it been since he’d felt this way? Long before Vollenth had been sucked dry. Maybe too long to count.

  He wanted nothing more than to fly into his lair and sneak into a bed warmed by Siobhan. Wake her up with kisses and greet the morning sun by making love, but he wasn’t done with what he had to do and he was tired from his trip on the astral. He needed food to stoke not only his physical strength, but the ice fire in his belly.

  He soared on the air currents, gliding silently over the forest and took the time to hunt. A lone deer stripped bark from a tree and he dove, sinking his talons in and snatching it from its breakfast. He landed and ripped into its belly while it kicked its last breath.

  Claws still flecked with blood, he flew to the lair. He didn’t have time to clean up and it wouldn’t matter where he was going. The first rays of the sun were breaking through the trees and he had no idea how long the little queen had. He only knew he had to save her.

  He stared at the door separating the cavern from the living quarters. He had a desperate need to wake Siobhan and share with her his failure. She would take him in her arms and stroke the misery away, help him cope with the fear that he was about to lose the last hope he had. He’d forget himself in the pleasures of her body and find solace in her care.

  But he still had his secrets to protect. And there was no time to waste on wallowing in his failures.

  He lay down on his bed of treasure and curled up nose to tail, the energy stored in the gold and silver washing through his skin. Magic soaked into his bones. Flinging his astral body into the ether he flew on starry wings into the sky. Carrig had said he’d help, if he could. He had to, or they’d lose a queen.

  Seven queens. Seven male dragons. It was barely enough to save a species, but if they lost even one of them, they lost an entire gene pool.

  Travel on the astral was as fast as thought. He focused on Carrig’s lair and was there in seconds. But Carrig was not. He cast about, trying to locate the earthy feel of his brother’s magic, but the scent was stale, as if Carrig hadn’t been here for days.

  Something was wrong. He’d come there to beg for help but it seemed like Carrig needed it too. He bellowed along the starry paths of the astral, shouting to the stars for his brother, but there was no response.

  He flew back to his body, almost unwilling to uncurl and face reality. He’d be getting no help from Carrig. He was truly on his own.

  He got up and shifted, searching the cavern for anything that might help, tossing magical items to the ground and cursing. None of these were powerful enough. He needed backup. Intelligent backup. He needed someone to distract Maeve and keep her busy while he snuck the little dragon queen out. If he could.

  He had no choice—he had to wake Siobhan.

  The wash of fear for her had him sinking to his knees, his head dipping into his hands. He couldn’t risk her. She’d become everything to him. He’d lost an entire world and his fear of losing her was so huge, he couldn’t stand back up. But he had to. His fear of losing the last piece of his world was just as large as the fear of risking Siobhan. But there was a big difference. The little queen was defenseless, not even a hatchling yet. And entirely his responsibility.

  He had to wake Siobhan and risk his heart to save the queen.

  He strode to the door, unbarring it and making his way into the living quarters. He had no idea how he was going to convince Siobhan to help him, but he had to do it without breaking his vow and losing his magic, or it would all be for naught.

  A trace of unease rose inside him as he opened the door to the bedroom and found it pitch dark. Siobhan didn’t usually sleep without some kind of candle burning. He called and a globe lit in front of him. Before the light pooled into the room, he knew what he’d see. It was empty.

  Unease flared into fear.

  “Siobhan.” He knew she wasn’t there, but he called out anyway. She must have gotten up early and gone outside. He didn’t have time to search for her. He sent a pulse of magic down the line connecting him to the dragon on her neck and it came racing back.

  For the first time in a thousand years, panic raced through him.

  She was miles away to the north. Nearly at the Winter Palace. After everything that had passed between them she’d gone to face Maeve on her own. She had no idea what she was walking into and it was all his fault. He should have told her everything. And now, it was too late.

  ABOUT A HALF-MILE AWAY from the Winter Palace, Siobhan huddled with the fairies in a narrow dark cave. “I know you three thrive on the cold, but I’m freezing.” Siobhan dug into her pack and found a cache of tinder. She pulled it out and let it grow to normal size before using a small amount of magic to light it.

  Chrystal chimed at her, her tiny face sharp with anger.

  “I know we’re too close to the palace. But if I don’t get warm and get some food I won’t be able to make the rest of the trip to where Bosco is. Settle down,” she told the three fairies. “You all need rest and recharging too.” She frowned at them as she pulled food out of her pack. “You should go find some frost flowers to feed on.” She shooed them out of the cave with a wave of her hand. “I’ll be fine. I have some water and jerky. All I really need is sleep and we can be on our way.”

  She settled down by the fire and watched them fly out of the cavern into the early morning light. They’d worked hard to bring her this far, now she only had to turn in the direction of Bosco and his army and elude the squads of soldiers covering the area. By this afternoon, she’d be reunited with her brother.

  A warm glow that had nothing to do with the fire filled her. He was safe. But not if he took on the queen.

  She settled down and pulled her hood up, pillowing her head on her knapsack. Just a few minutes sleep and when the girls came back, she’d be ready. She was dreaming of the sweet cinnamon cookies her mother used to bake when a jolt of pain yanked her from her sleep.

  “Look what we have here.” Three guards of the queen, long pale braids swinging out from under their helms, stood around her. She struggled to get up, but tight bands of magic bound her every move. “Oh, don’t even bother.” The closest poked her with a booted foot. “We’ve got you trussed up. You can’t move, you can’t speak, and your magic is bound too. You, my little icicle, will be my gift to the queen.” The man laughed and the other two joined in.

  Siobhan’s heart dropped. She was never going to see Bosco again. And what felt even worse, she was never going to see Doyle again either. And she’d never told him how much she cared about him. Leaving the way she had, she doubted he had any idea.

  The trip to the palace didn’t take long, but every bump of the horse she was tied to was misery. They entered the buttoned-up gates without any issues, waving and calling to their fellows. A piece of ice hit her in the face, and then another, the guards within the walls laughing and taunting her as they chucked missiles at her. Soon snowballs and chunks of ice hit her from every direction. Her mount rose up, whinnying, bolting for the safety of the stables.

  The jolts shook her teeth. She was unable to do anything but hope the ropes securing her to the saddle were strong. By the time the trio of guards had caught up to her, she was a mass of bruises, and all she could think of was how much she’d lost.

  They dragged her into the throne room and left her in a heap in front of the dais.

  She’d been here before and had ample time to study it while she melted fro
m her frozen prison. Now, after all she’d been through, here she was again. Only this time, the odds of her leaving alive were next to nothing. She fought hard against the wash of despair.

  She couldn’t give up. Not now. Not when she was so close to the queen. There had to be a way.

  “What’s this?” Maeve stood up and came down from her throne. Her usual gown had been changed out for gleaming light armor. She frowned at the guards and they shuffled back from Siobhan. “Where did you find her? She was supposed to be dragon food.”

  “Sleeping in a cave near the south gate.”

  “Fool.” Maeve laughed. “You should have run when you had the chance.”

  Siobhan tried to move. If she could just shift the net off of her body, maybe she could do something. Her little finger on her left hand wiggled and a surge of hope washed through her. She tried to access her Gift. It was there, just out of reach but closer than before. The effects of the spell were wearing off.

  “But how did you get away from the dragon? And what’s more, why didn’t he tell me about it?” The queen leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from Siobhan’s face. Her cold caress sent a rush of fear along Siobhan’s skin. “Unless he didn’t lose you. Maybe he sent you here to spy on me.” She stood again, her forehead wrinkled while she thought. “Let’s see where you’ve been.”

  She pointed at Siobhan. A clear blue light rushed from her fingers, icing everywhere it touched. Siobhan took what meager part of her Gift she could reach and tried to hide her dragon from the queen, but it did no good.

  “What are you trying so hard to hide from me, my precious?”

  The blue light became more insistent, insinuating itself down the channels of Siobhan’s magic, aiming for her heart. Its beat slowed, then almost stopped. She had to let go and put all of her effort into keeping the cold from freezing her heart.

  “Ah ha!” The back of her neck grew so cold, she couldn’t feel it any longer, but the pale blue light retracted from her heart and its slow pulse resumed. “Stupid dragon. He’s put his mark on you. Now I have evidence of his betrayal.”

  There was a wrenching feeling. Siobhan’s magic spun out of her control and she felt as if the world had turned upside down. The queen let her go, the magic leaving her body in a rush.

  And there, in the palm of the queen’s hand, was the dragon pin, its shining silver scales covered in blood.

  The back of her neck hurt and she wished she could touch it, but she knew even if she did her hand would come away stained red. A sense of loss so keen it wailed rose up inside her, but she still couldn’t move.

  “Throw her in the dungeon. She’ll be my hostage when her brother gets here.”

  The three guards picked her up and dragged her to the side of the room.

  “General Ardan.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Siobhan saw Ardan come forward and bow to the queen. “Your majesty.”

  “Get the net and chains ready. We’re about to cage a dragon.” Maeve laughed and kicked Siobhan hard in the side, the pointy, metal-covered toe of her boot digging in deep. “Thanks to you, my dear, I now have the means to conquer two of my enemies.”

  Numbness crept over Siobhan and she slumped in her net, the will to fight back draining fast.

  The guards who had brought her in, dragged her out, her head scraping on the floor, but she didn’t care. She’d lost everything—her brother, Doyle. And her hope.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Doyle flew to the spot near the Winter Palace where he normally shifted, and made ready to land. As he spread his wings out and slowed his descent, the link he had with Siobhan shattered. He lost his equilibrium, his wings flailing to catch him as his spiral failed and he screwed up his landing. He caught himself on a low breeze and skidded to an awkward halt on the ground, his flank dragging through a pile of debris. He got up, shaking rocks out of his scales.

  “Damn her!”

  He wasn’t sure who he was cursing. Maeve, for finding and taking his gift to Siobhan? Or Siobhan herself, for putting all of them into this situation. But now the queen knew he was coming. It was a good thing no one knew he could change form. He shifted out of his dragon form, got dressed, and armed himself. And headed for the palace.

  It was late in the day by the time he reached the gates. The same belligerent guard was on duty and he worked his way in the same way he had last time. The postern gate opened, and he walked in. A shadow fell over him. He looked up. The late afternoon sun glared around the edges of something he couldn’t identify. By then it was too late.

  The shadow descended and he was wrapped in an enormous net, designed for something much larger than his current shape. He tried to use his magic, but when he did, a deep burn cut through him from the net. He struggled, but guards surrounded him. Searing chains were fastened onto his wrists and ankles, shrinking even as they locked on, conforming to his current size and shape. Everywhere they touched burned with pain.

  In desperation he shifted, his clothes shredding to hang in pieces off of his dragon body. Now the net barely covered his form, but it was too late. The chains morphed with him. He flapped his wings, but the guards hung on to his shackles. He should be strong enough to lift off and drag them with him, but the burn held him back, keeping him anchored to the ground.

  “So, you think you can escape. Hah!” Maeve stood on the top of the guard’s tower, her armor shining in the sun. “The magic in the chains will confine you, no matter what glamour you choose to enact. Did you think you could fool me by coming in here looking like someone of normal size? You still reek of dragon magic, no matter how you try to hide, and now that I have this little trinket”—she flipped the dragon pin into the air—“I can identify you anywhere.”

  Panic tore through him. He roared and tried to take off again and again, his wings flopping under the unbearably heavy weight of the net. The links sizzled on his skin, impossibly burning lines into his scales. “How have you done this? How do you keep me here?”

  “Don’t you recognize what’s tying you down?”

  He looked more closely at the chains and the net. Horror crawled over his skin and every instinct in his body screamed to fly.

  “These are the bones of the dead!” He forced himself to stay still and examine the pieces of glowing white net and chain, etched in a fine iron script winding in and out and around the links. “This is dwarven work, but how? No sane dwarf would do this and risk a dragon’s fury.”

  “It seems some would risk much to get a hold of the bones of your kind.”

  Doyle kept a tenuous hold on his urge to thrash and shake off the abomination wrapping his body. Bones of prey were considered tasty treats to be devoured and crunched with pleasure, but the bones of his kind were still alive with magic. Before the fall of Vollenth they were revered, kept in sacred places, and almost worshiped for their continued hold on power.

  “Where did you find them?” His voice shook. “There are no dead dragons here.”

  “No, but there are in Vollenth.” She laughed at his expression. “Did you think you were the only dragon to come to Underhill?”

  “None of my brethren would give you the bones of the dead.” He was sure of it. His brothers might be too focused on their own eggs to help him, but they were his allies. And none of them would commit this sacrilege. They’d all seen too many die on their world, their bones lying unmourned in piles on the ground.

  “Oh, but there you are wrong. It seems there are other dragons in the universe, and some of them are willing to sell your dead. At a price.”

  He could hold still no longer. The urge to free himself of the chains raced through him again and he flailed and struggled, until he lay on the ground, his eyes half-closed in exhaustion.

  He’d lost. Everything. He’d nothing to fight with. Maeve had finally won.

  “Now that you’ve proven to everyone here that you are well and truly under my control, I want you to fly to where that army is and kill every single one of them.”
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  He opened one eye halfway and glared. “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?” Anger rushed over her features wiping away her smug smile. “You have to do as I say. You’ve vowed to do as I say and now I have total control over you. I refuse to free you from those chains until you’ve killed every last son of a bitch in that army.”

  “How can I fly in this net?”

  “Take the net off of him.” The guards used long pikes with hooked ends to pull the burning net off of his body. He surged to his feet and the guards scattered. Now, only the manacles around his legs and forearms held him hostage, but they still weighed more than they should. He could feel the control she had over him etched into the bones, every drop of iron magically tied to Maeve’s will.

  “I can’t fly in these chains.”

  “Yes you can. Try.”

  He bunched his haunches under him and tried to launch into the sky, determined to escape and come back another day, but the deceptively delicate links held him hostage to the ground. How the hell the dwarves had managed to bind the iron into the bone and then bind it to Maeve’s magic was beyond him. He swore to himself he’d be sure to eat every dwarf between here and the Black Court to be sure none would ever dare to do this again.

  “I can’t,” he growled, swiveling his head until he and Maeve were eye to eye. “I need your permission.” The temptation to sear her with his ice fire swelled inside his belly. Only the sure knowledge that she was so entwined in the palace the entire place would collapse and crush the little queen underneath their feet held him back. And he wasn’t sure that the magic in the chains would allow him to kill her anyway. He was truly trapped. “You must let me go.”