She tentatively placed her hands on the shell, expecting it to be as cold as the icy room. “Oh!” She jerked her hands away. “I thought it would be cold, but it’s not. It’s warm.”
Doyle smiled, the tension staying tight in his face. “That’s a good sign. She’s still drawing magic from the intersection of the lay lines. That’s what was supposed to be sustaining her, but Maeve has sucked so much magic, I’m worried.”
The room shuddered and a crack raced across the floor. Water seeped up through the crack. Doyle gave it a worried look as it started to pool and spread across the floor.
“Hurry, Siobhan. We’re out of time.”
She placed her hands back on the egg and reached for the dragon inside. “She’s not answering.”
“She might just be tired. She fought hard.”
But Siobhan didn’t think so, she kept trying, using all the focus she’d practiced when she’d conquered the portals. “Come on, little queen. Come on. We have to go. You have to help us.” The shell quivered under her hands. Beneath her feet, under the floor, magic flared, flowing fast and hard into the egg. “Something’s happening.”
“I hate not being able to see what’s going on.” Doyle’s face was strained. “Keep talking.”
A crack appeared in the egg, running from the top across the side. Followed by another, and another lit up inside by a brilliant white light. “She’s hatching!”
A rain of small rocks came down. Doyle threw himself across the shell’s surface. “We have to protect her!”
Siobhan tore off her knapsack and jacket, covering the top of the egg’s crazed surface with her coat and using her body to shield the rest. A piece of shell fell off. Inside, a thick membrane glowed white, pulsing with magic. A shadow pressed against the membrane, pushing it out, then retracting back in.
“She’s almost there.” More rocks rained down, peppering her back. A larger chunk came loose, heading straight for them. There was no time to do anything but curve her body over the exposed section of membrane and pray to Danu for help. Doyle moved, shoving his body over hers. The rock careened off of his shoulder, crashing and shattering into pieces as it hit the floor, Doyle hit the floor at her feet.
“Doyle! Are you okay?” Blood streamed from his shoulder, and he wasn’t moving. For a panicked moment she wondered if he was going to get up.
He stiffened and moaned, before crawling to his knees. “I’m fine,” he panted. “Watch her.”
More pieces of shell came off. The membrane pushed from inside, bulging out. A tiny claw burst through and a gush of clear liquid spattered with blood spurted out.
Siobhan’s entire body tensed. “She’s coming through!”
Chapter Forty-one
The single claw was followed by four more claws, attached to a small dragon’s foot. And then the shell shattered. Siobhan rushed to get out of the way. Liquid poured out and the flopping body of a white dragon fell at her feet.
Siobhan’s blood pounded in excitement. “Look at her, she’s amazing.”
The dragonet flailing at her feet was nearly the same size as Siobhan. Her mouth opened and closed, revealing her sharp double row of dragon teeth. Her pearly hide glowed white with a rainbow opalescence that shimmered in the torchlight. Siobhan could see right through to her delicate bones, each linking to the other in the fine puzzle of the dragon’s structure.
The little queen’s eyes were sealed shut with the gummy remains of the egg and she struggled in the puddle of amniotic fluid. Dust in the air settled, marring the pure white luminescence of her hide.
Siobhan took her jacket and ran to where the icy water oozing through the crack had become a small creek. “We have to clean her up.” Another shower of rocks came down. She ducked and dipped her jacket in the water, getting it soaking wet.
“There’s no time. We’re about to be crushed and it’s getting harder for me to move in any direction other than back to that damned cell.” Doyle scooped up the dragon in his arms. She screamed and flailed, batting him with her claws. One dug into his face, and he staggered, letting her drop to the floor. “What the hell?”
Burn marks sizzled on the baby queen’s flesh.
“Your manacles.” Siobhan pointed. The last of the ice melted off of the cuffs on his wrists, dripping in wet pieces to the ground, and his body lurched in the direction of the exit.
“Hurry, fix them, or I won’t be able to do anything but run back to the dungeon.”
Doyle held his hands out, but as she readied her power the little queen’s voice rang in Siobhan’s head.
Use my shell.
I don’t understand.
Free him! A picture of Siobhan cutting off Doyle’s manacles appeared in her head.
“Oh, I get it. Your shell is strong enough to cut through the bone.” She grabbed a piece of the shell about the size of a dinner plate with a sharp edge. “Hold still.” Taking the cuff in her hand she sawed into the bone. “It’s cutting, but not fast enough.”
A blast of power shuddered through her from the queen. Siobhan aimed the power into the shard and making the edge into a hot blade. This time, the shell sliced through the bone like cutting into soft cheese, and the cuff dropped to the floor.
“You did it.” Doyle’s left arm lifted in the air, tugging him toward the exit. “Hurry, do the others.”
Now that she understood, the other cuffs were off of Doyle in a hurry. Where they’d been, deep red welts seared his skin. She reached for him, but he shook her off.
“No time.” He scooped the queen up and this time she stayed quiet. They headed for the exit, stepping over shards of broken tentacles and puddles of rising water. Another blast rocked them from above and the room shook. A crack ran up one of the pillars. Bright light of every color and no color at all burst through the crack. “Run!”
The room quaked and she ran after Doyle and the dragon as the floor bucked and heaved beneath her feet.
THE TRIP BACK TO THE outside world should have been much quicker than the one down. All the defenses Doyle had set up were gone, and he cursed Maeve and Bosco and the battle raging above them. With every step the walls shook and they had to stop and take shelter from more than one cave-in, struggling on past large rocks blocking the way. The only blessing was that he had his powers back, but his stores of magic had been exhausted by the baby dragon’s inexpert siphoning off. At each blocked passage he had to draw on what was left to get them through.
He tried to access the power from under the palace, but as generously as it welled up in the chamber below, the further toward the surface they went, the less power was available. Maeve was still drawing on that power to stave off Bosco and his army, both a blessing and a curse.
He had less magic available to him, but they stood a better chance of getting out if she was distracted.
By the time they reached the dungeon, his pace had slowed and just moving forward, one step at a time, was all he could do.
“I don’t know if I can carry her anymore,” he said as they climbed the last set of stairs out of the dungeon, emerging on the ground floor of the palace. His shoulder ached from where the rock had hit it and his legs felt like he was pushing through cement. “I’m out of steam.”
He staggered out of the dungeon into a weak beam of sunlight and put the little queen down.
Screams rang out from somewhere in the palace. The walls here had tumbled down and a large hole in the wall let in the light, and the sound of more explosions rocking the building.
I can’t see!
“Oh, poor thing.” Siobhan knelt down and wiped the pasty dust from the sealed eyes of the queen. She was no longer white and glowing, now she was filthy with dirt, but underneath hints of her hatching magic still showed through. “There. Is that better?”
The queen opened her eyes and blinked. Yes. Deep and green and crystalline with the black, slitted pupil, they caused his heart to soar. She was alive and she was perfect.
“Hello, gorgeous.” Doyle squatte
d next to her on the floor. “I am Doyle Atavantador, at your service.” And he bowed.
From behind him Maeve’s shrill voice shattered the moment. “Now isn’t this rich.”
The little queen bridled and hissed, showing her sharp baby teeth.
Doyle moved in front of her and Siobhan. “You should be dead.”
“I almost was, no thanks to you.” Maeve’s white leather tunic and pants were torn and tattered. Blood streamed from a cut above her eyebrow and dripped down the right side of her face. “My defenses are collapsing, my general is nowhere to be found, and my forces are deserting as fast as they can. This is all your fault. Yours and that girl behind you, who keeps showing up and causing trouble.” The Winter Queen’s eyes narrowed. “In fact, I should take care of that problem, immediately.” She pointed past Doyle.
Magic pulled from the center of the palace, rushing from the pond where he had hidden the secret of the egg. The palace shuddered.
“Maeve, don’t! You’ve drained enough power from the nexus. It needs time to fill.”
“Don’t tell me what to do in my own palace. This is my power, mine!”
A bolt shot from the queen’s hand, launching straight for Siobhan. Doyle pulled on the last of his reserves and formed a hasty shield. Maeve’s icy blast hit his shield, splattering power to the sides as if it were a stream of water. But it didn’t stop. He staggered and fell to his knees, the weight of her onslaught taking all his focus and strength.
She laughed. “You weaken, dragon.” Beneath the dirt and debris, he saw she was still strong, still drawing power.
The palace trembled and he opened his inner sight. The structure he’d built to channel the nexus’s power, the palace, and even the nexus itself had become as brittle as blown sugar and it was all in danger of imminent collapse.
“Siobhan, get her out of here.” Sweat dripped down his forehead, but he couldn’t take any of his focus off of Maeve, not even to wipe it out of his eyes. “It’s all coming down.” He couldn’t turn around to see if they followed his order. He had to concentrate and keep the queen here for as long as he could.
“We won’t leave you.”
“Just...go...”
Maeve continued to pour power on him and he buckled to his knees.
“You see?” She advanced across the stones of the hallway, step by step. With each movement bringing her closer, the increasing weight of her magic ate away at his shield. “I will win. I always win. This is my palace. My power. I don’t know what you did to steal the extra power bonus from me, but I still have what is mine by right. I raised this place. I built the palace, the courtyards, the fortified walls. Even the villages surrounding this area have me to thank for their scummy existence.” She was close enough that he could see the gleam in her eyes. “It’s mine. All mine. And once I take care of you, I’ll finish taking care of that cur, Bosco. I’ll make sure he regrets ever leaving my generous patronage.”
Behind him he could feel Siobhan and the little queen, gathering up the power they had between them. He felt the tug of the queen, trying to take advantage of their previous bond and pull more power from him, but he resisted, sending her a firm mental NO. Now that he didn’t have the cuffs on, he was able to withstand her draw. He needed every drop of power for as long as he could protect them.
The cold of Maeve’s magic was seeping in his shields, but he was an ice dragon. Cold was his element. Too bad he couldn’t draw on the power she was sending his way, but it was all he could do to hold her off.
But if he couldn’t, maybe someone else could. Siobhan had proven that her smaller Gift could wind its way into cracks. Maybe, she could do the same here. He sent the little queen a picture of what he wanted, urging her to send it to Siobhan. And then he opened the tiniest of holes in his shield, just enough to let a drip of icy power in. And feed it back through the bond he had with the dragon queen—back to Siobhan.
Wave after wave of magic hit, until his shield was barely a wisp of power in the air. Another blast hit and it buckled at the center.
“Now!” He dropped the shield and rolled to the side but the edge of the blast hit him in his injured shoulder, exploding and blinding him in a burst of blue-white light. He took as much of the blast as he could, absorbing it and funneling it through the link to Siobhan. All along the inner channels of his magic burned, and as he hit the floor, he prayed he’d filtered enough of the blast to protect both the little dragon and Siobhan.
Chapter Forty-two
The shield dropped. There was an explosion of light and energy. Siobhan took the blast, rolled it into a ball like she would a snowball and coated it in her own ice magic with a lick of the little queen’s dragon fire—and launched it at the Winter Queen.
It was simple, really. Once she understood how her Gift really worked. She didn’t have to be powerful to take the power and squish it together, she only had to shield and then treat it the way she would if she were molding ice. Like wearing thicker gloves. It wasn’t going to be pretty. There wouldn’t be flowers on the surface, or a sculpture at the end. But it hadn’t taken any more than skills she’d spent years honing. Snowball and decorator skills. The skills of a minor frost fae.
The ball sailed into the width of Maeve’s shield, breaking through in a spray of sparks. It slammed into Maeve’s manically grinning face, bursting into a roman candle of icy blue flames.
The fire clung to her with a glue-like texture, oozing down her face and onto her neck, burning as it went. Her face sagged, dripping flames. “Aaaaaah! Get it off! Get it off!” But no one ran to help her and her screams rent the air as Siobhan stared in horror and the fire ate at Maeve’s flesh, devouring her until there was nothing left but a pile of frozen ash.
She didn’t know how long it took for her to move, but a small sound nearby caught her attention and she ripped her gaze from the pile that had been the Winter Queen.
Are you okay?
She turned to the little dragon by her side and gave her a quick visual check, relieved to see her on her feet and tilting her head inquiringly.
Big one?
I’m checking on him. She ran to Doyle’s side where he hadn’t moved since taking the brunt of Maeve’s last blast. The skin on his chest, face and arms was covered with frostbite and his borrowed shirt was in shreds.
“Doyle?”
He appeared unconscious but alive. She went to check his pulse and the frostbite tried to crawl up her hands. She pushed it back with a firm nudge of her own Gift, confident she could handle this last attempt of Maeve’s hand reaching from the grave. Snow and ice were her territory and frostbite something she’d seen many times before. She sent a wash of power over him, easing the bite of the frost. It stopped its icy burn and faded away, leaving Doyle’s skin a bright red, already beginning to peel.
“Doyle? Say something.”
He’d lied to her. For all the right reasons, but still, he’d lied. But if it had been her family, if it had been one of the village children whose life had been at stake? She’d sacrificed everything she’d ever loved—her home, her safety, her freedom—all to save Bosco. The baby queen was just as dear to the dragon lord as if she were his child. For all Siobhan knew, she was his child.
What would she have done in Doyle’s place?
There was no question. She’d have done anything.
Look at what she’d done for Bosco. If he’d been a baby locked away without any chance of living? She’d have been just as determined as Doyle. And despite all of the things he’d pledged, he’d still been amazing to her.
She stared at Doyle’s skin, noting the blue tint that edged the large red patches. She’d seen men lose their lives to the frost. She couldn’t bear if it happened to him. She loved him.
Heat flashed over her skin and she stopped breathing, her chest tightening in shock. She let the air come into her lungs, but the ache in her chest didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop until she had him safely back.
She loved Doyle Atavantador, both t
he dragon and the man. He’d taken her in when he should have killed her. He’d given her power to keep her safe. He’d taught her to use that power, expected her to grow to learn to be as strong a magic user as she could be. He’d been an amazing lover. He’d done everything he could to save a vulnerable egg from harm. He was more than she’d ever realized. And somehow he’d come to mean everything to her.
DOYLE WOKE UP IN A strange tent, sleeping on a camp bed and overly hot due to the mass of wool blankets piled on top of his body and the heat billowing out of the stove in the corner.
“Oh, you’re awake. That’s good. We’ve been waiting for you.” A tall human woman with long blond hair braided back from her head smiled at him. She laid a book aside, got off of her camp stool, and came toward him. She touched his forehead and gave him an approving nod. “Can you sit up?”
He sat up and groaned. “Gods and bones, everything aches.” Every magical channel, every muscle hurt. Even his teeth ached, as if he’d flown with a large rock gripped in his mouth across the entire Northern Sea.
She laughed, her green eyes sparkling. “You can speak. I’ll take that as a good sign. And yes, you’re going to hurt for a while.”
The flap to the tent opened and Siobhan peered in. “Did I hear you talking to someone, Bryanna?”
“Only your dragon shifter.”
“He’s awake?” Siobhan raced into the tent. “Thank the goddess. It’s been three days!”
Doyle tossed back his blankets and put his feet on the ground.
Bryanna’s fair skin went red. “I think you’d better keep at least one blanket.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve seen him naked this whole time.”
Siobhan tossed him a pair of pants and he sank back onto the bed and pulled them on. Even that small effort leaving him weak as a hatchling.
“There’s a difference between tending to an unconscious naked patient and a man who’s perfectly capable and looks like that.” Bryanna winked and headed for the tent opening. “He seems to be doing well. I bet he’s hungry too. What do dragons eat?”
Caged: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 4) Page 24