War of the Dragons: Book Four of the Dragon-Born Saga, Page 4

  Luca’Rosi took a step back. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her draped sleeve. “He did everything the men asked of him, and still they spoiled my mother and I and made him watch.”

  “Luca…” Ophelia called in a soft voice. “I am so sorry.”

  “It’s fine, Ophelia. I survived. We lived. That’s all that mattered. After that, I left my village and found work in manor houses. I just refuse to let someone defile you the way I was.”

  Ophelia went to wrap her arms around Luca’Rosi when the door to her room creaked open. She stiffened as in walked King Kelton. With him was also the wizard who had been there when she was taken as prisoner. Even though he wore simple clothing, he looked to be more in charge than the king.

  King Kelton was dressed formally, in a rich red tunic with a golden belt and golden cape embroidered with red roses. He was tall, with long blond hair that he wore over his shoulders. Younger than she’d expected, his blue eyes had a mischievous glint and his lips held a smirk.

  Her heart thumped in her chest as he sat at the table before her and crossed his legs.

  Luca’Rosi held her hand and gave it a squeeze for reassurance.

  “Sit with me,” he said in a voice that left no room for anything but obedience.

  A brief glance at Luca’Rosi and she swallowed. A week had gone by and this was the first time she’d seen the king who had ordered his men to ransack her home. Now was the time to find out what kind of man he was. Was he the kind who had harmed Luca’Rosi and her family? Her story sucked all courage from Ophelia’s heart and replaced it with an uneasy feeling that reminded her of the time her father had slapped Rowen across the face for no reason at all.

  How could she tell Luca’Rosi that she knew all about cruel men? Though he had treated Ophelia infinitely better than her half-sister, her father had been one.

  Luca gave a slight nod and took a step back where she lowered to her knees and bowed her head.

  Ophelia looked to the king who watched her intently as he stroked his golden beard. She sat at the circular table across from him and folded her hands neatly on her lap. Silently, she lifted her eyes to his and for a few moments they held each other’s gaze.

  Though this was the man responsible for her husband’s murder, she could not help but notice how attractive he was. His skin was tanned, not as bronze as the people of Jeparthi but more like the Withraen people. She found him lovely to look at.

  Until he spoke.

  “Your sister, the half-blood,” he began, leaning across the table. “Tell me about her. Is she really as awful as people say? Rumors say she’s a little social climber with a pig nose who spreads her legs for every sailor and pirate who crosses her path.”

  Ophelia’s cheeks burned. “I don’t know who is spreading such things, but Rowen is nothing like that. My sister is the kindest, most beautiful woman I know.”

  He lifted a brow. “Really? More beautiful than you?”

  She pursed her lips, her brows furrowing. Was he trying to be charming? Though she found him attractive, everything he said was obnoxious.

  “Look,” he said with a sigh. “My brothers and I will not let the human realm fall into another dark age. Our lands will not be destroyed by Dragon’s Fire, and our people will not be murdered by yours.”

  Ophelia watched as Warwick leaned down and whispered something to him. Kelton’s brows rose.

  “So,” he said, watching her with newfound interest. “We’ll get to the half-blood later. How about you tell me about your dear mother?”

  She frowned. “What do you want to know?”

  Warwick answered, surprising her with his deep voice and air of authority. “Let’s start with her whereabouts.”

  Swallowing, Ophelia’s eyes rose to Warwick’s and warnings shouted in her head.

  Why would they want to know anything about the Duchess of Harrow?

  Chapter 9

  The sun shone brightly over the Withraen Palace, and the sky was a clear blue, yet nothing but dark thoughts filled Rowen’s mind. Fear gripped at her throat and nearly suffocated her.

  Rickard was gone.

  Ophelia was kidnapped.

  She could barely breathe as panic continued to rush through her veins.

  King Kelton, the most ruthless of the Trinity brothers had her beloved sister, and all she wanted to do was to fly over there and rescue her. But, it was not allowed. There was protocol and diplomacy.

  As Queen, she was bound by such things. At that moment, the crown on her head was heavier than it had ever been.

  She wrung her hands raw as she paced the gardens of the Withraen Palace. Feyda sat on a stone bench, watching her.

  “Walking back and forth is not going to save your sister,” she said, lowering the journal she was writing in. Her brown eyes held a kind smile, as did her lips. She was a friend, a true one. Even if she had been paid by Rickard to give her aid in the first place. “We can talk about it, if you’d like. That is what I am here for.”

  Rowen squeezed her eyes shut and stopped. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and tried to think of a solution. There was a reason she’d sought out Feyda the night before and brought her back to the palace. She was lonely without Rickard, but what she really needed was a cure for the red mist. It was the only way they could win in war against the humans.

  “The Trinity brothers are going to kill her if I am not turned over.”

  “What could they want with you?”

  She shrugged. “I wish I knew. I’ve never even heard of them until recently. We didn’t study the human kingdoms in boarding school. Just Dragon history and the languages of Draconia.”

  “There must be a reason they want you. Perhaps its because you are half human. Maybe they think they can use you to influence Rickard.”

  It was possible. But, why not just request a visit from her? They didn’t have to kidnap her sister. There must be more to it.

  Feyda placed her hand on the seat beside her. “Come, Ro. Sit down with me, and let’s think of a solution.”

  With a sigh, Rowen walked to the bench and sat beside the sorceress who had become her mentor in both magic and life. She fought to keep tears from stinging her eyes as she imagined all of the horrible things King Kelton was doing to Ophelia.

  Feyda took her hands into hers and smoothed the tops of them. “As a human, I have a better idea of how Dragons are viewed on the other side of the border. Dragons once terrorized the humans for centuries. Killing, pillaging, and even stealing people to have as a snack in their mountain lairs.”

  She nodded. “I can understand their fear, but what does that have to do with the way things are today?”

  “What King Thorne and Prince Lawson did before Rickard took over as king might have been more substantial than we thought. People do the strangest things when they are afraid.”

  Rowen knew that all too well. “So, what do we do?”

  “We need a plan.”

  “Rickard will not allow me to go to Trinity. While he goes off on his own to investigate the border, I’m stuck here while my sister is locked away in a dungeon half-way across the realm. He says he will find a way to negotiate with the brothers. With the humans threatening us on the other side of the border, and the other Dragon kingdoms blaming us for the red mist, we cannot afford to make the wrong move. Not right now.”

  “I didn’t say anything about Rickard liking our plan. Or even knowing about it.”

  She lifted a brow and searched Feyda’s brown eyes. “What do you mean?” She and Rickard told each other everything. How could she keep something as big as this from him?

  Feyda sat back against the bench and looked to the sky. “Not everything has to follow protocol. Rickard knows that better than anyone. I watched him mastermind a plan that put him on the throne, and you at his side.”

  Rowen snorted and shook her head. “Some plan. The nobles hate me. The peasants don’t trust me. If we’re lucky, when they storm the palace they won’t c
ut off our heads.”

  “Nonsense. No one is going to storm this palace. You will show them you are worthy. You’re as much of a Dragon as anyone here. More so, because your mother was one of the first shifters.”

  “No one cares about any of that. Just because my mother was one of the first doesn’t absolve me of my wizard heritage.”

  “It may not, but it gives you an edge,” Feyda said. “When was the last time you had a prophecy?”

  Rowen swallowed. Somehow, she’d seen this coming. She just didn’t know it until now. The little red Dragon from her dream wasn’t Ioan. And, she should have realized it sooner. There was a red Dragon in her prophecies that had been in her life since the age of two.

  Ophelia was a red Dragon, and together they stood at the foot of destruction every time Rowen closed her eyes.

  “Last night.”

  “And…?”

  “Withrae lay in flames. Dragons and men fought one another until all of their bodies littered the battlefield. Mayhem, as usual.”

  Feyda’s eyes widened. “Well, my girl, that will not do.” She stood and held a hand out for Rowen. “I have been developing a cure for this mist that’s afflicted the Dragons of Withrae, but there is something missing. Something I cannot obtain in Dragon territory.”

  Rowen accepted and came to her feet. Together, they walked the gardens and past the palace guards who were posted at the entrance. Under the white, stone archway they went and toward the west wing of the palace.

  “What do you need? Tell me and I’ll get it for you.”

  “Like I said, it cannot be found here. It’s something rare that grows in the mermaid kingdoms, and only the mermaid kingdoms.”

  Her shoulders slumped. If there was one place that was virtually unobtainable to humans or Dragons, it was the mermaid kingdoms. “A lot of good that will do us.”

  “No worries, love. We’re going to make sure that prophecy of yours doesn’t come true. We are going to save your sister, stop the Trinity brothers from marching on Withrae, cure the Dragons, and do it all in a way that makes you look like a saint.”

  “How? I have to stay here and keep the kingdom from turning to chaos.”

  “Trust me, dear girl. I’ve been around long enough to have seen good people be destroyed and bad people rise to the top. I will not let you fall. Besides, I know a guy who can help you out. Someone with a good heart, but with just enough mischief in his blood to get the job done.”

  She was desperate and ready to meet this fellow. “And, where can we find him?”

  A grin came to Feyda’s lips. “He’s already here, dear girl.”

  Chapter 10

  “Gavin,” a soft voice sang, waking him from his peaceful dreams. “Wake up.”

  Gavin opened an eye and peered across his pillow to the beautiful barmaid beside him. Who knew the pretty redhead who he’d shared a pint of ale and a kiss with just a year ago would save his life and that of the queen? She deserved a metal, instead he was the one exalted by the king and queen. Life was funny that way.

  “Why are you awake? The sun is still out. Wake me up when it goes away.”

  Gilly grinned kissed him on the forehead before sitting up on and resting on her elbow. “But, you promised to let me show you the Withraen Gardens today.”

  He groaned and sat up. “You’re right. Even though I’d rather just stay in bed with you for all eternity, I’ll keep my promise.”

  She clapped and her smile widened.

  How could he let a sweet girl like Gilly down?

  “I know you just want to show me off to your friends,” he said, stretching his arms over his head and cracking his neck.

  She stood, naked, and walked over to the window of the inn. He traced the curves of her hips with his eyes. She pulled the drapes open and pointed to the clear sky. “That’s kind of the way it should be, Sir Gavin. Who knew I’d bed a knight?”

  “Aye. Who knew I’d ever become one? I’m just a nobody. Son of a farmer. Good with numbers and remembering things, but not much more than that.”

  “You must be more than just that to be knighted.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said, lowering his eyes. Gilly was a good woman. She deserved more than the half-truths he told, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her about what he went through after he left his family’s farm. Magic, mystery, and a love lost.

  That was a story for another time.

  Right now, he was simply content with the food Parsha, Gilly’s mother cooked, and Gilly’s warm body next to him every night.

  “I think the queen must fancy you, but what she doesn’t know is that you’re all mine.”

  He didn’t respond with more than another shrug. Once, he had thought the same. Now, she as wed to the king and seemed quite happy with her life. If only she knew just how much the lords of Withrae hated them both. Sure, some were content with their new rulers. But, there were whispers of murder and treason that Gavin couldn’t stomach.

  He had to tell her what he’d learned just the night before when he’d overheard a particularly interesting conversation between two unsavory lords in terrible disguises. Why the people of Withrae couldn’t accept a beautiful half-blood as their queen was beyond his comprehension. Then again, he was well aware of the dangers of prejudice. As a human born with the gift of magic, he wasn’t the first to have been raised in fear of having his life taken by those who despised his kind.

  Memories of being sent away from his mother and father in the middle of a cold, winter night haunted him and wiped his smile from his face. Some nights, he still tried to remember their faces, to no avail. They were ghosts to him. Ghosts he never expected to be reunited with. Not in life, but perhaps in death.

  A loud banging came on his door and he tensed while in the middle of pulling up his trousers. Gilly lifted a brow and they shared a concerned look before focusing on the closed door.

  “A summons from the king for Sir Gavin Farmer.”

  Those words brought little relief to Gavin as he hurriedly pulled on his shirt and boots. When he opened the door, two soldiers looked in. They gave him a nod and stepped aside.

  “Morning, lads,” he said, raking his hands through his thick brown hair. “What could good ole’ King Rickard want with little ole’ me?”

  “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” Kristian said, his eyes lingering on Gilly a bit too long as she held a blanket to her chest. He realized Gavin had caught him looking and cleared his throat. “Well, off we go. Mustn’t keep the king waiting.”

  “Of course,” he said, holding in a grin. He winked at Gilly. “Be back before nightfall for that stroll through the gardens.”

  She smiled and nodded. “You’d better.”

  He chucked and closed the door. Down the steps of the inn they went, to a quiet dining room where only one tired looking old man at a proper Withraen breakfast with smoked sausages and potatoes in the back. His stomach grumbled. He wished he had time for a quick meal, but realized there would be even better food at the palace.

  He certainly wasn’t keen on staying in the palace suites—too fancy for his taste—but, the food was another story entirely. Outside, the air was thick with the scent and fog of smoke that always seemed to pump out of the chimneys of Withrae’s lower city. He followed the soldiers to a carriage and settled in the back.

  “Sure you don’t want to give me a ride on your back, Kristian?” Gavin asked, craning his head out the window.

  “Aye, mate, right after you conjure me up a pretty lass with those wizarding skills of yours.”

  Chuckling, Gavin sat back down, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the ride.

  Chapter 11

  He couldn’t fly. No. Not while the mist rose and spread across all of Draconia.

  With a grim expression that kept his men silent, Rickard rode horseback. It was something rarely done, but now, they had no choice. With one thousand soldiers, Rickard marched toward the human realm. It was a meager army, not
even a third of his force, but they hadn’t come to fight. No, quite the opposite.

  That didn’t mean that Rickard wasn’t ready.

  The border was meant to keep them separate, to define the territory of the Dragons.

  If his father hadn’t destroyed part of it with his brother’s help, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

  They wouldn’t be at war with humans, and not just humans. Wizards.

  The red mist blended with the sunset, casting a beautiful red and orange hue against the purple sky. Mountains stretched high on either side as he led his small army through the valley.

  He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword as they approached. For a moment, he wished he’d have told Rowen he loved her just one more time. When he left her, he’d tried to drink in every detail of her face before he left. Her smell, and the feel of her body pressed against his at night brought him comfort, yet worried him. What if he never returned? What if she was faced with ruling the kingdom without him if he was killed in battle? The Dragons would never allow it.

  He sucked in a breath and tried to force those thoughts from his head. He couldn’t die. That was all there was to it.

  The sound of horse hooves hitting packed dirt and the armor squeaking and clamoring was all that was heard as they made their march forward. None of his men knew what they would encounter and what atrocities they would witness. Magic was outlawed in Draconia, and in most of the human realm.

  But, magic was what gave the humans an edge over them. It was all they had as a defense against Dragon’s Fire.

  The sentries had said that the area was clear, that no humans were near the broken border for a few miles into their realm. That was fine. They didn’t plan on crossing over, or staying longer than necessary.

  He clenched his jaw and stopped his horse just before the stone gates that had been burned and destroyed by his father. The effects of the Dragon’s Fire had turned the white stone to black, and made it a slick surface like black ice. The stone was crumbled and lay on the valley floor like the ruins of a once grand city. The guards of Estilan who had once patrolled the border were gone. It used to be that Dragons would patrol from their side, and humans from the other. They would keep watch in their towers, their eyes on the enemy, just waiting to catch one in a forbidden act.