Chapter Seven

Killing the bastard sounded like a good idea to Fafnir. Harming a Draconi female was unthinkable; to kidnap one was punishable by death. And leaving meant he didn’t have to face Alviss.

For years behind bars he imagined what he would say to his family when he saw them again, how happy they would be to see him. Until he Changed. Insecurity snuck in. Perhaps they would think him less than a male for being captured, for being unable to fight his way out of his cell. When Thoren freed him, he was hesitant to state his true name, wanting to wait and see how his family reacted to his imprisonment.

And then he saw Keara lying on the ground, her face immobile from drugs given to control her movements, and realized she was his daughter. His daughter.

Hard on the heels of that happy revelation came the thought that he’d abandoned her, left her alone to be raised by humans, caused harm to a female. Despicable.

How could his father want to speak to him? To do anything but cast him aside, banish him from Draconia? He’d harmed a female; he should be punished.

Guilt and shame might run thick in his veins, but he wanted to remain in his land, to live among his people. To see his mate.

What was he thinking? Even if he wasn’t in dragon form, their being mates created all sorts of problems. Namely that he’d have to admit his true name, a name better off hidden, thought of as dead.

A name he could never again think of as his.

And on that morose note, he focused his attention on Ari, on how her body vibrated with power. Or maybe that was anger. He’d like to see her hum with passion, passion directed at him as he thrust into her welcoming warmth...

Really, Fafnir? In case you haven’t noticed your sizes don’t match.

But they would if she was in dragon form.

And with that thought, his mind journeyed to the land of never-going-to-happen.

“Are you all right?” Bright green eyes penetrated his thoughts, jarring him out of his fantasy.

Good thing dragon scales hid embarrassment. Yes. Where will the killing occur?

Hold on.

A touch on his flank was all the warning he received before she transported them to a meadow surrounded by woods. Good thing they arrived in the meadow and not in the trees. Large dragons and close-spaced trees did not belong together.

Sucking in a deep breath of pine-scented air, Fafnir looked around the meadow. Wind whistled through branches, leaves moaning in protest. Aryana stood eyes closed, palms facing the ground, energy rippling along her arms as she drew magic from deep inside the earth.

When her eyes opened, they glittered with unholy rage. She pointed to the north. They are in a cave by the bend in the river.

Shouldn’t we wait for the Council to appear?

And run the risk of him getting away? I think not.

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m too big to follow you through those trees and I don’t want you going alone.

Your concern is appreciated, but I’ve banished him once, I can do it again. She turned, walking toward the tree line.

Pride swelled in his chest, followed by a deep thud of fear. His mate was brave, but foolhardy. What if she died? Nonsense. He might not be able to trace her footsteps through the trees, but his wings and vision worked fine as did his ability to turn invisible.

Casting an invisibility spell, Fafnir spread his wings, pushing against the air. Gliding on the wind, he circled above the trees, keeping track of Ari as she wove between tree trunks, autumn’s falling leaves allowing glimpses of her raven-black hair. On several occasions, she glanced upward, as if she knew he flew above her.

What did she expect? Him to stay put in the meadow while she walked into danger?

Maybe he was gallant after all.

Ahead in the distance, the river snaked to the left, falling across large granite rocks in a splash of white waves. A dark opening gaped in one of the rocks. The cave. The hideout of Jaythena’s kidnapper.

With a flap of his wings, he sped toward the opening, looking for a place to land and wait for Aryana. The only place large enough for him meant landing on top of the cave itself. Touching down on the tips of his toes, he tried to land as quiet as possible to avoid giving himself away. As no one came running out of the cave, he assumed he succeeded.

Rushing water poured down the rocks, slamming into a froth of white foam as it hit the bottom of the streambed. If he had found this place only days ago, he would have tucked his wings against his flank and taken a dive, hoping to drown in the crash of water against rocks.

But now, those thoughts fled into the distance like a passing storm. He needed to keep Aryana alive. To discover how she changed into a dragon. To claim her for his mate.

Maybe he needed to take that dive into the rocks. It might knock some sense into him.

Aryana appeared at the tree line, staying in the shadows as she peered around a trunk to eye the cave. Her gaze flicked to the stones he perched upon and her eyes narrowed.

Couldn’t stay put? Her voice cut through his thoughts.

He flashed his teeth, his lip pulling up as she shook her head. Fingers waggled at him as she vanished.

His heart thumped an erratic beat despite knowing she wrapped herself in an invisibility spell. Where was she? He stared at the path she should take from the tree line to the cave, hoping to track her. Nothing. His ears pricked forward as he strained to hear her steps above the roar of falling water.

Nothing.

Muscles tense, he held his breath, listening to the wail of the pines, the roar of the water. Where was she?

And then he heard the whisper of a shoe on rock and his breath rushed between his teeth on a whistle he hoped no one heard. A rock slipped, thumping its way down the slope, its splash soundless, lost in the roar of the falls.

She was in the cave. He perched on top of the opening, too big to fit inside and help his mate.

Bloody dragon’s eggs.

****

Aryana took a breath and tried to still the erratic beat of her heart while she watched a stone fall over the ledge into the whirling waters below. Maybe looking down wasn’t such a good idea. Neither was materializing on the edge of the cave and losing her footing, but it was a little too late for that now.

At least she cast an invisibility spell before appearing on the ledge. Weaved into the layers of the spell twisted magic gathered from the land, forming a cloak that rendered her invisible to sight and smell and masked her footsteps.

Unless she stepped on the lip of the cave’s entrance and jarred loose a small stone.

A figure strode out of the darkness, a male in a cloak with the hood pulled over his head, sidling next to her as he peered over the ledge and then looked up to the sky. A heady aroma of herbs wafted from his robe, a scent triggering a memory she’d seen in Thoren’s mind. A memory involving his mate Keara who had been captured and drugged by a hooded Draconi. Like the one standing in front of her.

Was Jaythena similarly drugged?

Aryana struggled to remember the name of the drug used on Keara and drew a blank. But she remembered what it did, how it inhibited the victim from acting out their will. How it made them a puppet to their captor, able only to act on the suggestions of the one who gave them the drink.

She shuddered.

If this bastard standing before her had harmed one hair on Jaythena’s head, death would be a welcome relief for his slimy arse.

While the male continued to look outside, she slipped deeper into the dank darkness, heading toward the faint glow of candlelight flickering in the stone depths. Water dripped in an even rhythm, splashing against stone, each plunk causing a spike of anxiety.

What if Jaythena was dead?

The passage turned and she followed the path, walking into a circular room aglow with dozens of candles. In the middle of the room Jaythena sat on a slab of rock, hands and feet tied, a blank look on her tear-stained face. Purple blotches dotted her cheeks, while dried blood scabbed her lower lip. One shoulder of her dress hung halfway down her arm, the tear exposing the top of her breast.

Joy at seeing her niece alive morphed into rage. Aryana growled. Dead. The male was dead. Steam hissed from her ears, billowing out in a cloud to surround her head. Females were prized, protected despite all costs. The punishment for harming one was banishment or death, depending on the extent of the female’s injuries.

The last time she’d seen a female injured this badly, she had banished the male, Fasolt. She wanted to kill him, to wring his life out in slow measure, to watch him suffer as he had caused another to suffer. Instead, she listened to the plea of the priestess, the one he harmed, listened to the female who would rather have her attacker live than be the cause of his death.

Silly female. But Aryana did as requested, banishing the male, changing the wards so he couldn’t return to Draconia.

She should have turned him over to the Council to be killed.

Jaythena continued to stare straight ahead, only the rise and fall of her chest giving evidence to her living. Still as stone, except for her even, steady breath. Ari clenched her fists, ignoring the bite of her nails into her palms, and tried to convince her feet not to march back to the main area of the cave and kill the male. Her niece’s safety came first.

Then she could kill the bloody bastard.

Jaythena, can you hear me?

Aunt Ari? Where are you? He’s here. He’s coming back! You’ve got to help me! Don’t let him touch me again!

Her panic rocked through Aryana like a blow.

Can you move?

No. He drugged me. Forced me to drink it. I couldn’t stop him. Help me!

Footsteps echoed off the stone walls as the hooded male approached. “Ah, don’t you look the sight.” An herb-laden breeze rustled the hem of Aryana’s robes as he walked toward Jaythena. Aryana’s breath caught. A churning ball of ice took up residence in her stomach as she glimpsed his face within the shadows of his cowl. A face she hoped never to see again.

His hand cupped Jaythena’s cheek in a parody of a lover’s touch. “You have helped me destroy that bitch priestess you call aunt. Destroy her from the inside out, just like she did me.”

He knelt in front of Jaythena, hands on the edges of his cowl. “Did I ever tell you what she did to me? No? Let me show you.”

His hands shoved back his cowl, showing short black hair to Aryana, but exposing his face to Jaythena. Aryana heard her niece’s mental scream, the sound slamming through her mind, firing her rage.

Fasolt.

Even with his back to her, she knew him. Knew him the moment he passed her, the moment she glimpsed beneath his cowl and saw a face covered with jagged white scars.

Scars she gave him. Scars she shouldn’t have wasted her time giving.

She should have stabbed him in his vile heart instead of banishing him. Good thing she learned from her mistakes.

Time enough to remedy that error once she transported Jaythena to safety.

With a wave of her hand, she thought about Jaythena transporting to where Fafnir sat on top of the cave. Any second now her niece would disappear from this bastard’s vile clutches. Any second.

Why did her magic not work? She tried firing an energy ball at Fasolt—the scum’s hand currently fondled her niece’s breast—and nothing happened. Aryana screamed her frustration, the noise echoing off the stone walls, only for her ears. Fasolt didn’t move.

How did her invisibility spell remain, but not her ability to work magic? Only titanium inhibited a Draconi’s magic and very little of that was in Draconia. What were the chances of a deposit being in this cave?

Just her luck.

Perhaps it wasn’t titanium. After all, her invisibility spell remained in place. The spell used magic from the land, magic that co-existed with whatever metal deposits were in the cave. Perhaps the land’s magic masked the titanium’s effects. Provided a vein of the metal ran through this cave.

Whatever the reason, she needed to move around the cave, to try working her magic from another spot. Titanium’s effects only extended so far and if she got beyond that, her magic would function.

Keeping her eyes on Fasolt, she backed out the way she came until she stood where the path crooked into the main part of the cave. Taking a breath, and willing the magic to work, she again attempted to transport Jaythena out of the cave.

Nothing.

Her heart pounded and she fought to gather her thoughts. Why did it not work? Was she not far enough away?

Aryana stared at her palm, willing an energy ball to form. The blue-tinged ball flickered in her palm as she sucked in a breath. All right. If that worked, then why couldn’t she transport Jaythena out of the cave?

After several more transporting attempts, her breath came in shallow gasps, her heart echoing a fast tempo in her ears. Her magic refused to penetrate the small chamber where her niece sat tied. Why was that?

Who cared? Magic did not work where Jaythena was held. End of discussion. The why didn’t matter. How to free her did.

At least her invisibility spell worked. Which made little sense, but she had no time for figuring out why. She needed to get Jaythena out of Fasolt’s clutches.

Now.

But how?

She needed a distraction. Like a rock thrown against the wall, drawing Fasolt out of the small chamber into the larger one. And lucky for her, loose rocks abounded in the cave.

Picking up one, she threw it hard against the opposite wall. The rock hit with a thud, dislodging smaller rocks, which cascaded down the wall in a dust-spewing mini-avalanche. Fasolt hurried out of the chamber, clearly looking for the source of the noise.

Not waiting to see his next move, Aryana darted into the small chamber, running to Jaythena.

Hold on, Jaythena, I’m going to get you out of here.

Just transport me.

I can’t. My magic won’t work in this chamber. She fingered the knot on the rope holding her niece’s feet, struggling to untie her before Fasolt returned.

Hurry!

I’m trying. The knot gave—thank the Goddess—and Aryana started on the rough rope binding her wrists together. Are you sure you can’t move?

Yes! He drugged me. Get me out before he returns!

One more yank and the ropes loosened, falling to the floor. All right, you’re untied. I’m going to have to drag you out.

I don’t care! Just get me away from here before I act on his orders.

His orders?

Hurry!

No time for questioning what she meant. Aryana pulled her niece off the stone slab, holding her under her arms, and dragged her out of the small chamber. Fasolt stood staring at the wall of collapsed rocks, head tilted to the side as if asking the wall what happened.

When she laid Jaythena on the ground, Fasolt turned around, clearly attracted by the noise.

“Noooo!” Fasolt screamed, his yell slamming against the stone walls of the cave, shaking pebbles loose to bounce against the ground.

Oh, holy Goddess help me! Aryana waved her hand praying the transportation spell worked. With a tinny pop, Jaythena disappeared from view and Aryana released the breath she didn’t realize she held.

Fasolt ran toward her, anger morphing his scarred features into a vision of avenging evil.

Aryana fired an energy ball at him, watching as it threw him into the rough stone wall, his breath released in a hiss of steam. Dropping the cloaking spell, she readied another energy blast.

“You shouldn’t have returned.”

His eyes widened then narrowed as his lip curved in a snarl. “Bloody bitch. You shouldn’t have banished me.” He turned his hands palms up, his eyes narrowing as he formed two small, flickering energy balls.

How could a male stripped of his magic form energy balls?

Before he threw his weak excuses for energy balls, she lobbed hers at him, but he ducked to the side, missing the blast, which struck the cave wall. Rumbling shook the stone beneath her feet, jarring loose more stones. Aryana took a step back as several pebbles rained upon her head.

Ouch.

She shook off the pain, focusing on the only thing that mattered. Fasolt.

He crouched beside a stalagmite, eyes glittering with anger or terror. Probably anger, judging by the way steam circled his scarred face.

“Look at me!” His voice struck her like a blow, snapping her gaze to his. “Look at what you did to me!”

“I should have killed you. Scarring your face was a kindness.”

“A kindness? All I did was express my disappointment in not seeing the Goddess.”

“By beating my priestess.”

“It was an accident!”

“What? Your fists accidentally slipped into her face?”

“The bitch smarted off to me! What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Restraint. A conversation. Asking for return of your offering.”

“I needed to talk to the Goddess! And all I got was silence!”

“She doesn’t always appear.”

He jumped to his feet. “I needed Her!”

“Why?”

“To tell me why my mate had to die!” Fists balled at his sides, he stepped forward.

Aryana sucked in a breath as she stared into eyes crazed with trembling rage. The loss of a mate wrecked havoc on the surviving Draconi, even more so if they had bonded their life-forces. But she had never heard of a surviving male turning to abuse of females.

“I’m sorry for your loss, but that doesn’t excuse your behavior. Or kidnapping my niece.” She readied another ball of energy, balancing it on her palm. “You know death is the penalty.”

“Of course. The precious Draconi female. You know what?” He took another step forward. “You females aren’t any better than us males, you just think you are. And you get by with all sorts of evil behavior because no one bothers to stop you. You should all die. And you will. Even if you kill me, I’ve planned your extinction. And you can’t stop it.” His laugh shot shivers across her skin, raising chill-bumps across her flesh.

Drawing her arm back, she took aim at his chest, wondering as he mirrored her movements empty handed. Aryana lobed her energy ball, only to feel something heavy strike her shoulder, spinning her sideways. Her blast of energy went wide, slamming into the cave’s wall as her back hit stone. Numbness encased her arm, while her lungs struggled to suck in air.

Breathe, Aryana, breathe!

With a gasp, her lungs remembered their expansion duty and drew in air like a dragon about to expel a fireball. Good thing too as Fasolt leapt in front of her, hands reaching for her throat.

She ducked, trying to dart to the side. Pain shot through her injured shoulder, the throb radiating outward. Hands grabbed her arms, twisting her around, throwing her backward. Her head struck the ground, sending black dots dancing around the periphery of her vision.

An energy ball flew her way, the air sizzling in its wake. Without thinking, she batted it to the side. She needed to do...something. Needed to defend herself...somehow.

Why couldn’t she think straight?

How hard had she hit her head?

Another energy ball flew, slamming into the stone wall as she countered it. The ground pitched and she tried to sit up. Or maybe the ground pitched because she tried to sit up. Nausea roiled in her gut as she slapped at another energy ball.

“Not so hot now, are you?” Fasolt stood over her, the white scars streaking his face shining in the dim light coming through the cave’s opening.

She needed to protect herself. Needed to form...a spell.

“Die, bitch!” Magic poured out of his hands, slamming into the shield she managed to throw over her prone body.

A shield spell hastily thrown together.

A shield not made to withstand the amount of magic thrown against it.

An ache settled in her chest, a tremor running through her limbs as she fought to hold the shield, fought to save her life. Why couldn’t she remember a stronger shield spell? Didn’t she know a spell that could repel Fasolt’s magic? She was the High Priestess, the reservoir of power, a conduit for the Goddess.

And she couldn’t think of a stronger spell?

How hard had she hit her head?

A roar shattered the air, dropping rocks from the ceiling as it reverberated in waves against the stone. Good thing she had her shield, feeble though it was. As stones dropped onto his scalp and shoulders, Fasolt stopped throwing magic and covered his head with both arms. Aryana kept her shield in place and breathed a sigh of relief.

Fafnir.

His appearance ignited a burst of warmth that penetrated the thought-stopping fog smothering her mind. He cared enough to come to her rescue. And didn’t that knowledge give her a warm, floating feeling.

Or maybe that feeling had to do with the hit-the-head-on-a-rock routine she just experienced.

Air dragged through the cave, speeding toward the opening as if sucked out by a wind funnel. Or an enraged dragon.

A plume of fire shot over her head, blistering the air into crackles of sound as it sped toward Fasolt. In the time it took her to blink, the bastard disappeared and the fireball sank into the stone with a blast that shattered shards across the chamber.

The ground shook, continuing to rumble long after the stone shards dropped to the ground. She might have been knocked hard enough on the head to forget spells, but she knew enough to get out of the cave before falling rocks obliterated its existence. Taking a breath, Aryana dropped her shield and transported out of the cave, landing flat on her back in the same place she had sent Jaythena.

Wind battered her body and she turned her head to stare at the spectacle in the sky. Two dragons screamed their rage, wings batting air as teeth and talons scraped and clawed against scales, the sound sending shivers spiraling through her veins. Sunlight glittered against their scales like red rubies on fire, little bursts of light blinding to behold.

A wave of nausea swept over her and she rolled onto her side, trying not to gag. Spiked daggers of pain shot across nerve endings as she tried to use her injured arm. Small prisms of light danced across the ground, and she closed her eyes to avoid the whirl of color fighting in the sky.

Why did a concussion pick now to hold her in its clutches? Laying around nauseous and half-witted when Fafnir fought for his life was not in her plans. What if Fasolt hurt him while she lay curled on the ground?

She hadn’t known Fafnir for long, but it didn’t take long to realize how much he meant to her. Or to know she needed him with her. What would she do if he died?

Aunt Ari, move! Jaythena’s voice slammed into her mind, jarring her from her thoughts, her lids flying open at its strength.

Jaythena stood over her, arms upraised, a large rock balanced in her palms. The lack of expression on her niece’s face, coupled with the screams of fighting dragons, sent chills racing through Aryana’s limbs.

And then Jaythena dropped the rock.

So this is what was meant by an unmitigated disaster.

Aryana muttered a curse as she waved her hand, the spell tossing the rock aside. See, she did know a spell. They didn’t call her the High Priestess for nothing.

Aunt Ari, I’m so sorry, I can’t help it. Jaythena took a step toward the fallen rock. He told me to kill you. I can’t stop!

A slug moves faster than I can think. Aryana bit her lip, trying to come up with a spell to stop Jaythena’s drug-induced murderous tendencies. Batting aside rocks until the drug wore off was unacceptable.

Aunt Ari! Help me!

Jaythena held the rock again, her frantic mental voice a contrast to her expressionless face.

Without thinking, Aryana whispered a sleep spell, the magic reaching deep into Jaythena’s mind, turning off her higher functions. Jaythena crumpled to the ground, the rock falling from her fingers.

Sleep sounded like a good idea. The pull of unconsciousness beckoned, the cool touch of a calming friend, filled with peacefulness. Glancing one last time at the sky, Aryana watched Fafnir battle Fasolt.

Splashes of red, mixed with the whoosh of wings, caused another bout of nausea, and she closed her eyes against the myriad of colors.

Sounds drifted away as unconsciousness pulled her into the comfort of oblivion.