Chapter Eighteen

Sam didn’t stay long at her father’s house. Isolde knew he had to get back to his men. There would be a lot of work to do to decontaminate the area where the creature had been killed, not to mention disposing of the carcass. The dragons would help, but Sam would be leading his men in all the tasks that people had to perform.

The dragons had kept their distance, much to Isolde’s surprise, until after Sam departed. Tam had spent the entire time with Wolfsbane and had come to the conclusion that he could help train the beast to behave better, if given some time with him. Sam had looked skeptical but agreed that he would be in contact to set up a time for his next free afternoon.

As Sam rode away on Wolfsbane, Lord Salveer dove in from above, making Tam jump then whoop for joy at seeing an ice dragon so close. Salveer did a low pass over the house and the road, including Sam and his horse, then flew ahead, keeping an eye out for danger from above.

Shera decided to land in front of Isolde’s father’s house. She stood there with Tamlin gawking at her until Isolde called out from the porch. “Lady Shera, that’s my brother Tamlin. Tam, this is Lady Shera. She’s a very young, wild-born snow dragon from the far north. She’s been playing ball games with my apprentices. Maybe you two could amuse yourselves while I get my foot fixed up?” Isolde’s father was already inside, getting a poultice together or she would have introduced him as well, but her ankle was really hurting now, and she knew she had to get off it as soon as possible.

Isolde left the weapon on the porch, laying it off to one side, and hopped into the house. She cautioned her father about it as she settled on a chair by the door.

“Don’t touch that blade. It’s got acid on it that burned right through my leathers. I’m going to have to soak it in the river or something to clean it off.”

“What is that thing?” her father asked, coming over with the poultice he had prepared.

Isolde sighed. “It is a commission. Edvardson did the body of it, and I was asked to do the blades. They are made of obsidian.”

Her father’s head came up, and he met her gaze. She could read the surprise in his eyes. Even though he was a leather worker by trade, he knew how rare and expensive obsidian was.

“Who commissioned such a piece? One of the noblemen?” he asked. He knew that weapon wasn’t anything a commoner could afford.

“As a matter of fact, it was ordered by the ice dragon that just flew overhead. Lord Salveer is his name, and he brought me the obsidian too. He is going to pay me with more of it, though I have enough scraps left from what he gave me to make the blades to make a tidy profit already. I told him so, but he insisted that he will be giving me more. Apparently, he knows a cave where he can get some decent sized rocks of the stuff.”

“Amazing.” Her father shook his head as he set to work unwrapping the field dressing Sam had put on her ankle. It was raised on the second chair she had tugged around in front of her. “Did the dragon also specify the size and shape of the weapon? What would you call that thing anyway?”

“It’s sort of a combination of a pike and an axe, but it looks more like a scythe. I’ve been calling it that, though I have no idea what the King will make of it. Lord Salveer intends to present the weapon to the King in commemoration of the new alliance between the ice dragons and our kingdom,” she revealed.

“If it’s such a costly item, why do you have it here? And why is it covered in acid?” her father asked astutely.

Isolde sighed as the cold poultice was applied to her inflamed skin. That felt really good.

“That’s all part of the long story,” she told him with a faint smile. “I was just finishing putting the last of the blades into the scythe this morning when Lady Shera landed in my yard, in great distress. She insisted I come with her immediately and bring the weapon. She also insisted that I ride on her back,” Isolde said, still hardly believing herself that she had flown on the back of a dragon.

“You flew? On a dragon?” Her father looked both alarmed and impressed.

Isolde shook her head in continued disbelief. “I did. It’s all kind of a blur now, but that’s how I got out here. Somehow, the King had been lured out all by himself. He was riding on the old farm road down by South Meadow, and someone had laid a trap for him.”

Her father frowned. “That’s not good. We knew the King had enemies, but if they are actively plotting assassination, then things have ramped up.”

“I agree,” Isolde said, also frowning as she thought about it. “Well, someone must have paid a lot of money to get someone else to capture and transport the juvenile skith.”

“A skith?” Her father’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“That’s what the dragons say,” Isolde replied. “Lady Zallra has seen them before. She was able to confirm that the carcass was indeed a skith. Albeit a small one.” Isolde shivered. “It was heading right for the King when I jumped off Shera’s back and lopped its head off with the scythe.”

“You did what now?”

“You heard me.” She eyed her father. “We’re going to try to give the credit for the kill to the two dragons you just saw. Only a few of us will know the truth. Otherwise, it will draw too much attention to me and could interfere with my other role.”

“Ah.” Her father leaned back and nodded. “I see what you mean. It’s a shame, but probably wise.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really want the notoriety. It’s bad enough that my shop has become known as the place where the dragons play every night.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“That’s your shop?” her father asked with a grin. “I’d heard that some of the snow dragons play with apprentices at somebody’s place, but I didn’t realize it was yours.”

“It’s mine, all right. Since Luc and Lilly have started moving in next door, Shilayla and Shera have been hopping the wall after work hours to play ball with my apprentices. Shilayla doesn’t always come, but Shera is only ten winters old, and she likes playing with the children. She comes over every evening.”

“That’s amazing.”

Isolde looked out the door just to her right. “She’s amazing. We’ve become quite friendly.”

“I can see that.” Her father beamed. “And she seems to like Tam as well.”

Both of them looked out the door to see the young dragon and the boy playing together in the front yard. Tam was laughing, and Shera looked happy, with little rings of smoke rising from her nostrils to float into the sky. Dragonish laughter.

After a restless night with her leg propped up on pillows, Isolde felt a little better. She had left some clothing at her dad’s place for those nights when she stayed over after their family dinners rather than ride back to the city in a storm. She had risen early, bathed as best she could, and changed into fresh clothing.

Much to her surprise, Shera had bedded down in the barn overnight. Tamlin had set her up with fresh water and a little nest of hay for comfort. Being so young, she didn’t have much fire in her yet, so there was little chance she would have an accident and set the place ablaze. Even if she did, dragons were masters of fire. She could put one out as easily as she could start one, either by stomping on it or depriving it of air with one massive swipe of her wing. Fire couldn’t penetrate her tough hide, so she could simply lay on it or tamp it out with any part of her body and not get hurt.

Isolde had breakfast with her family, enjoying the change in routine, even if she didn’t enjoy the reason for it. Her ankle ached, and it was still swollen and painful. It was turning all sorts of colors today too. This was going to take some time to heal.

Unable to help with the cleanup from their meal, Isolde sat at the table with her foot propped up on a spare chair. She didn’t know what time to expect Sam to come for her, but she had agreed to let him do so. It was kind of romantic, how much he seemed to care for her injury. It was nice to be able to lean on a man for help when she needed it.

She’d always been able to seek help from her family, and her clan, but this was different. She had never had just one person—one man—she could depend on. She had never been fortunate enough to find a lover who not only made her feel desired, but also cherished. Somehow, Sam did both of those things.

She was daydreaming about him when she heard the approach of the carriage. Unable to just pop up from her chair to take a look, she waited for her father to tell her what he saw out the window when he got to it.

“Well, I’ll be.” When her father didn’t say much more than that, Isolde did her best to tamp down her frustration.

“What is it, Dad?”

“It’s the fanciest carriage I’ve ever seen, and it’s got the King’s crest on the door. Either we’re about to get a royal visit, or the General asked a favor of the King.” Her father sounded impressed. She was too.

“I’d bet on the latter,” Isolde told him with a chuckle. “With any luck, the King learned his lesson yesterday and won’t be making any trips outside the safety of his castle until after we’ve caught whoever is trying to kill him. I suspect King Alric sent the coach in thanks for what I did yesterday.” Although, she thought Sam must have asked, since Alric hadn’t known she hadn’t returned to her shop last night.

There he went again. Making her feel cherished and special. She loved the man, but he wasn’t a safe bet. He was a soldier. A warrior who moved from place to place. Before he’d become the leader of Alric’s army, he’d been a mercenary, traveling all around. She thought he might have itchy feet. He’d been with Alric for a few years, but that was no guarantee that he would stay here forever.

And unlike most Jinn, Isolde was happy staying in one place. She had her shop and her careers. She had her friends and apprentices. She had a full life here with her family nearby. She didn’t want to move around. Even for love, she would not give up everything she had here.

Especially since men who liked to roam often didn’t stay with just one woman. It would be dangerous in the extreme to expect him to remain faithful. That was a good way to get her heart broken, and Isolde didn’t want to let herself in for that kind of pain.

Better that she enjoy the time they had together while it lasted. She couldn’t really hope for more.

On that depressing thought, she stood to hop back into the guest room where she had spent the night and pack up her things. Sam had brought the royal coach. She was about to return to the city in style.

Lord Orthan seethed. He had spent a great deal of money and time to find untraceable assassins that he could loose on Alric. The man he despised.

They had almost had him yesterday, but those damned dragons had intervened. Those blasted creatures were no better than vermin. He was disgusted at the way they had the run of the castle and grounds. They were animals. Not people. Alric had yet to learn that if you laid down with dogs, you got up with fleas. Whatever the Dragon equivalent was to fleas was bound to be disgusting and most probably dangerous.

He’d heard they could talk…somehow. But he’d never heard a dragon talk, so as far as he was concerned that was just some kind of scam. It was like the trainer at the circus that could make his horse do math. Nothing more than that.

One of his informants had even brought Orthan some wild tale about that woman Alric was besotted with. The informant had claimed she could turn into a dragon at will. Orthan had ordered the man beaten for telling lies.

But now…he wasn’t so sure. Perhaps he’d been hasty to cripple that informant. It was clear to Orthan now that there was something supremely odd about that woman. Some dark magic that tainted her and all she touched.

Orthan didn’t like magic. He’d done well dealing with Osmian the Alchemist all those years because Osmian was a man of science. Magic didn’t enter into it. Orthan liked that. He loathed all that had to do with magic, and the dragons were probably the worst of that lot.

If Orthan was in charge, there would be no dragon alliance. The dragons could all go back to where they’d come from and stay there. Valdis didn’t need their kind of interference. Valdis had always been a place for men. Not creatures. Alric had turned his court into a freak show, as far as Orthan was concerned.

But he dare not let any of his disdain show in his demeanor. He had to act the noble lord who served his idiot King no matter what. Orthan’s plots depended on his being thought loyal to Alric. So, he seethed quietly and tried not to let his disgust for those creatures show on his face.

He’d been working for months to engineer a fatal accident for the King. It had been easier to imagine killing the bastard while he was still blind. Now that he could see, Orthan had decided to go outside the usual places and hire specialist help from faraway lands.

He’d been content to pull Alric’s strings for the many years he’d been blind. Orthan had enjoyed leading the pathetic blind boy down the paths he’d wanted him to take and had profited greatly on several occasions that had enriched his family coffers. But now that Alric could see, he was much more independent. He was also an adult now and about to be married to that woman.

Orthan refused to call her by name. She was the ruination of all his plans. Orthan had been working for years to convince the King to marry Orthan’s daughter. She was ugly and barren, but what did it matter? Alric hadn’t been able to see. And if they’d had no children, so much the better. Orthan was distantly related to Alric, and he’d long ago established exactly who he’d had to kill to make himself the only living heir to the throne. He had silently eliminated the closer relations over the past years, and now, there was only one child standing between him and the throne. The child was negligible. Orthan would control him or kill him. It didn’t much matter which.

But now Alric was planning a wedding to that woman, and Orthan was going to have to kill the silly boy before the big event. Orthan couldn’t have a widow around, mucking up the succession. Or he’d just have to kill her too. He could kill them together, but that wasn’t exactly easy. Just getting Alric had proven harder than Orthan had thought possible.

The easiest way would be to get Alric before he tied the knot. Quick and simple. Only…it hadn’t proven to be all that simple. Orthan had sent his operative out all over the lands to find the best assassins, and they’d come back with two supposedly foolproof plans.

The skith had been a stupid plan from the beginning, Orthan thought now that it had failed, but he’d had high hopes for it before yesterday’s debacle. Getting Alric out of the castle hadn’t been easy either. He’d had to give up one of his operatives inside the castle to make it happen. He’d promised the man a flight to safety, but it was safer for Orthan to just have him killed and the body disposed of where it would never be found.

The long-time castle staff member had given Alric the message about that woman being in peril, and like the besotted fool he was, Alric had saddled up his horse and headed for the countryside. Directed by the note to exactly where the skith had been let loose to chomp him to bits.

Only those damned dragons had intervened. Orthan should have realized. The most ancient legends said that the wizard Dranneth the Wise had created dragons to be the natural enemy of skiths, who had been created by the wizard Skir. Dranneth and Skir had been engaged in battle, and the creatures had been their proxies. Now that there were dragons in Valdis, the skith plan had been doomed from the start.

That left the assassins known only as Eyes. They had cost a small fortune to lure to this land, but Orthan had managed it. Just. He anticipated taking over the entire treasury once Alric was dead, so what did it matter? He’d get it all back and then some.

He just had to kill Alric as cleanly as possible with no blame coming to rest on Orthan’s shoulders. He had to appear innocent if he was going to step in to save the realm. And once that happened, he would kill a few dragons and have their heads stuffed as trophies for the throne room as a warning to all who dared dabble with magical things.