by T. A. White
Careful, Tate. There is something wrong with their smell, Night cautioned.
"Protect her," Tate said, staying focused on the three in front of her.
Ilith shook awake inside her, Tate's adrenaline alerting her to danger. She crouched in the back of Tate's mind, silently watching.
"You will die here," the one on the left said. For the first time, some hint of emotion touched the three's faces. They yearned for her death, the more painful and bloody, the more exciting.
"Someone needs to get the palace guards," Tate said, raising her voice so those in the room could hear. No one moved, remaining motionless as they gawked at the spectacle taking place.
She didn't take her gaze from the trio, knowing their attack had been just an opening salvo—a test to draw her out.
Cloaks ripped as the creature they'd been hiding came out to play. A large, hulking body rose in front of her, its muscled torso attached to powerful legs. A spiky tail uncurled from around its waist, lowering until it swept the ground.
The most disturbing thing about it was the heads. What Tate had taken as three people was in fact one monster with three heads perched atop its massive shoulders.
Tate couldn't tell if the monster was one being or if three people had been given one body.
"You don't want to do this," Tate cautioned as the creature unfolded itself and rose. It was at least nine feet tall.
In response its three mouths gaped wide, a piercing scream echoing off all the marble. Tate's stomach dipped.
"I've heard better," she told it.
"You will hear nothing soon," the creature promised, its heads speaking in tandem.
"Prove it," Tate challenged.
Is antagonizing it really your best move right now? Night asked.
Yes, it was. She needed to keep—whatever this thing was—focused on her and ignoring the bystanders who appeared frozen in fear with horrorstruck expressions.
The idiots needed to run, Tate thought sourly. They were just going to get in the way once the monster started its attack.
Its tail whipped, spikes flying toward her. Tate grabbed Lisa’s arm and dragged her out of the way. She wasn't quite fast enough. Two spikes embedded in her shoulder and chest, a few inches under her collarbone. Numbness spread from the wounds, followed by the feeling of burning, before shifting to a cold so bitter it felt like it dove straight into her very bones.
Tate fell to her knees, her head suddenly heavy.
Poison. The spikes had poison.
"Night," she tried to say. Her effort was weak, the words barely audible.
There were screams from all around her as Tate collapsed to her side.
Night roared, the sound a challenge answered by the horrendous shriek of the creature.
Coldness invaded. She was dying, Tate realized. So careless.
A woman sobbed in the distance.
Tate blinked once, the sun against the windows in the dome distractingly blinding as the color danced in it. So pretty.
Pain bloomed along her shoulder and chest, chasing the cold away. Tate screamed as the thorns sank deeper into her skin, sending out little veins of wrongness. Black lines spread across her skin.
A presence rustled inside her. Ilith's mind brushed against her, the dragon hissing as it sensed Tate's pain.
Stupid mistake, Ilith said.
Tate couldn't respond, paralysis locking her in place. Even her thoughts felt weak and sluggish. She could feel herself slipping away and no matter how she fought or struggled to stay, she was losing the battle.
Sorry, my friend, Tate thought at her other half. The dragon whose soul resided in hers. Her mistake came at the cost of two lives instead of one.
She sank into the deep black of night.
*
Ilith surged to ascendancy, muscling through the pain as her skin split and reshaped until a dragon crouched where Tate had once lain.
The shift was a blaze of agony, the wrongness from the poison blunting her thoughts while stripping her of reason and intellect, leaving behind nothing but rage.
She became a creature of instinct, driven by the need to survive.
Her gem-like eyes fixed on the creature who'd come close to ending them. She sprang forward, the motion one of endless grace.
Her jaws closed on one head. She ripped it from the monster's shoulders in the next moment. It lashed her with its tail, its needles striking her hide. She ignored it all, raking her claws along the monster's side. Blood hit her mouth and then the one known as Ilith was gone.
She became fire and death, ripping the creature apart as she gobbled down bits of its meat. Only when it lay in pieces around her did she lift her blood-stained snout and show her teeth.
The prey had mostly flown while she was occupied with her meal.
Her head swung around until she spotted one last prey still panting with fear in the corner.
Ilith pawed silently over the bloody marble, her scales rasping against stone.
She darted forward, her gaze fastened on the wounded prey.
A small furry creature landed between her and it.
The creature roared at her. It stood on its hind legs and swiped at her nose. Pain blossomed and Ilith reared back momentarily before roaring at the impudent creature.
She liked the sound so much she did it again.
The creature behind the smaller one bleated, distracting her from the beautiful sounds she was making.
She growled and snorted at it.
The small furry creature swiped at her again, making a pissed-off sound, different from a roar. It was an angry yowl.
Ilith cocked her head. She hesitated as the smell of family wafted up to her. Some of her rage receded—just a little.
Drawing her lips back, she exposed her fangs as her head lowered in threat. The small creature didn't back down, showing her his fangs as well.
Intelligent eyes gazed back at her as a slight pressure brushed her mind.
She hissed in displeasure as the pressure became more insistent. She shook her head fiercely.
The bright light from above distracted her again and she forgot the furry creature protecting the hairless one. She craned her head back, noting the endless patterns above as they framed the sky.
She snorted and stretched her wings. Flying would feel good after that meal.
She leapt, scrabbling for purchase on one landing before leaping for the next. Stone crunched under her weight and more than once something clattered as she knocked it over. She paid none of it any mind, focused on that dome high above and the sky beyond it.
Running footsteps and shouted words pulled her attention momentarily to below. Men poured into the room, stopping short at the sight of the slain creature on the marble. It didn't take them long to find Ilith where she clung high above, her tail dangling off her current precarious perch as she wedged herself against the wall.
She stared disdainfully down at them. They wore clothes with an image emblazoned on the front, that of a dragon wrapped around a sapphire-blue jewel.
Jealousy and covetousness tempted Ilith to descend, to rip that stone off their chests and keep it for her own.
She ignored the urge, a single scrap of reason whispering that the stone on their chests was a lie. It wasn't real.
She turned from the deceivers, waddling up the stairs, around and around, as she ignored the shouts and angry chatter below. She had sky to reach.
A force hit her side, ripping a roar out of her. She looked down just in time to see another rock levitate and zip toward her. She dodged out of the way, now bounding up the stairs several at a time.
Violent food. She should rip them apart.
Energy bolts zipped toward her, changing her mind. She wasn't in the mood for a hunt after just eating. This meat was too difficult. She'd wait.
The bolts hit her hide, causing little more than irritation. She wanted out and away from the violent creatures, to stretch her wings and leave the things threatening her behind.
Reason had begun to beat back some of the blinding rage, but the renewed attack was making the ability to reason gossamer thin as she descended into primal fury.
She reached the top of the stairs and launched herself at the wall, sinking her claws in for purchase.
She climbed toward the dome high above, moving faster as the sound of those below pursued her.
Her hind quarters bunched and her wings spread as she leapt, bursting through the window and onto the roof as glass shattered around her.
Once on the roof, she hesitated. The sky called to her, whispering of freedom.
A glint in a tower next to the roof she perched on distracted her, quieting all thoughts about the power and freedom in the sky.
Light bounced off something shiny. It was like the stone on the men's chest, only real.
Mine.
Ilith bounded across the rooftop toward the jewel, easily scaling the tower and wrapping herself around the stone perched in its casing.
She purred as she warmed it with her body.
She sat with her jewel for a long time until she became aware of the creatures massing on the rooftop below. She growled at them, warning them away from her prize. She'd found it. It was hers.
She tried to lift it from its setting, chattering at it when it refused to move. She dipped her head closer to peer at it. Small metal claws like dragon paws held it in place.
She snorted fire on them, softening the metal before inserting one claw between it and the stone. She carefully bent the prongs away.
She gently plucked the stone from its setting, almost dropping it when an alarm screeched through the air.
Fire flared, encircling the tower. Ilith fled down its side, attempting to duck into the nearest window, tearing a hole in the stone framing when it wasn't wide enough to accommodate her body.
Once inside, she found herself in a narrow room with stairs leading down. Within the room, gems rested on the shelves along with gold and other shiny things.
Her eyes widened in glee. Mine.
She carefully set down her gem in the center of the room, then moved through the room pulling treasures off their shelves and storing them next to her gem. She lifted a necklace from its bed of silk and set it over her head, preening at the sight of the large center jewel shining lusciously against her scales.
Once the shelves were stripped of their shinies—all of them placed in a pile in the center of the room—Ilith wrapped herself around them, purring, as her tail curled around her to complete the circle.
A short time later, there was a whisper of movement from the stairwell.
Ilith remained still, her head down, only the tip of her tail flicking as a man stepped into view, his attire as shiny and beautiful as the treasure she protected.
"Well, now. This is a surprising turn of events." He held out a hand as another man stepped up to join him. This one was as dark and forbidding as the shiny man was bright.
Ilith lifted her head, her gaze suddenly fastened on the crown on the first man's head. That would look very fine on her horns. She wanted it.
She forgot the other man, as her world spun down to that crown and all the jewels encrusting it.
She wanted it. It was hers.
She moved, snaking through the room. Power gathered at the shiny man's hands as the other man stepped forward to intercept her, a roar swelling from his chest.
Ilith was faster, leaping into the air and twisting at the last minute to avoid their attacks. One claw lashed out, snagging the crown and knocking it from the shiny man's head.
She caught it in the next second, retreating up the wall. She clung to the ceiling, her tail and wings drooping down to brush the floor before she scuttled back to her pile.
She dropped from the ceiling and lay down, flaring her wings to protect her treasure, before raising the crown to her head.
The two men regarded her with nonplussed expressions as she again wrapped herself around the treasure.
Another man pounded into the room, sliding to an abrupt stop. "Is that dragon wearing your crown?"
"Yes, she is," the shiny man said.
Ilith ignored her admirers, warming the jewels by blowing a small lick of fire over them. The third man made a strangled sound.
"This is going to be difficult to explain to the council," the shiny man said.
"Yes, the dragon making herself at home in the treasury is not going to go over well," the third man said, not taking his eyes off Ilith.
"Careful, Ryu, she doesn't seem to be in her right mind," the shiny man said as the dark man moved closer.
Ilith didn't do more than flick her tail at him. He was different than the other two. Dangerous. A threat.
If he tried to take her treasure, she'd have to hurt him. She couldn't let anyone take what was hers.
A small furry form dropped into the room between the two of them. The creature from before landed silently. He observed the room for several moments before padding toward Ilith. She tensed, then relaxed when he curled up by her side and put his head down.
The one called Ryu relaxed slightly, moving in a circle around her, careful not to get too close.
"I'll watch over her while you deal with the rest," he told the shiny one.
The shiny one sighed and shook his head. "This is going to be a headache from start to finish."
"You're the one who wanted to rule. Deal with it," Ryu said, with not an ounce of sympathy.
"Make sure she doesn't go anywhere," the shiny one said, pointing at Ilith. "And for Saviors’ sake make sure she doesn't add any more of my treasury to her horde."
Ilith lifted her head at that. More treasure? Where?
"No," Ryu told her in a firm voice.
She blew a cloud of smoke at him before putting her head back down. She didn't have plans to go anywhere anyway. She was entirely too comfortable right where she was.
CHAPTER TWO
Tate looked steadily at the two men glaring at her. Well, one was glaring, the other seemed entirely too amused for her liking.
"What could have possessed you to such a foolish action?" Thora thundered. It was the third time he'd asked the question, varying the wording slightly each time.
Tate waited. She had a feeling he wasn't done.
"You stole the Emperor's crown. You're sitting on the Jewel of Aurius, which you took from its setting on top of this very tower," Thora continued, each word getting deeper until they rumbled menacingly through the room.
Tate pressed her lips together. Mentally she prodded Ilith, her dragon sleeping the sleep of one who'd gotten everything she wanted. The dragon didn't seem inclined to wake up and answer for her actions.
Convenient for Ilith, but it left Tate in the hot seat with few clues as to what had happened in the time spanning her near death and now.
Tate huddled into the oversized jacket Ryu had draped over her naked body, drawing it tighter around her. The transition from dragon to human was often unpredictable. Sometimes clothes came with you; sometimes they didn’t. With practice it got easier to take them with you through the shift; however, in times of stress or desperation, as was the case with this shift, they were the first to get left behind.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Thora shouted. Seconds later, he muttered, "The Emperor's crown, of all things."
Tate looked down at the two items that seemed to have caused the majority of his ire. A jewel the size of her head sparkled back at her while the crown mocked her.
She didn't know exactly what had been going through Ilith's head, but if the dragon had had a physical form, Tate would have taken great pleasure in strangling her.
Stealing the jewel off the top of the tower was bad enough—breaking into the treasury room, which now had a gaping hole where her dragon had decided to widen the window, was worse. Snatching the crown off the Emperor's head, while he was still wearing it—well, she was kind of surprised she was still among the living.
She glanced between the
two men, both dragon-ridden like her. Thora was supposedly one of the oldest dragons still alive and not crazy—if you didn't count Ilith and Tate’s odd circumstances—and she didn't.
Tate and Ilith had spent more time sleeping the centuries away than they had experiencing life, so her status as the first dragon-ridden didn’t really count. She was both ancient and brand-new at the same time.
It was a confusing situation at best.
The commander of the Emperor's dragon corps didn't look as old as he should, appearing not more than midway through his third decade. The only clue to his actual age were his eyes. They held an intangible weight that spoke of an old soul, one who'd seen more tragedies come to pass than any individual should have to bear. Despite his youthful appearance, he still managed to project the personality of a grumpy old man, his mouth constantly turned down in a frown of displeasure.
Ryu's lips quirked as he met her eyes. So glad someone was enjoying her predicament.
He was an inch or two shorter than Thora, his hair just brushing his shoulders.
Rugged where Thora was patrician, he still managed to wear a subtle aura of authority as easily as other men wore coats.
Ryu folded his muscular forearms over his chest and grinned at her, tilting his head slightly.
Tate focused back on Thora, putting Ryu out of her mind. She didn't need the distraction he caused right now.
"I can't tell you what I was thinking, because I don't know," she said flatly.
"That’s what makes this worse." Thora took several steps toward her. "You weren't in control of the dragon. There are those who will try to use that fact to hang you."
Night let out a low growl, lifting his head and pinning the dragon-ridden with a hard look. Thora flapped his hand at the bearcat, unphased by the warning.
He wouldn't be. Tate had seen his dragon form once. It dwarfed Ilith's. She imagined there weren't many things in this world that caused fear in Thora. A small bearcat wouldn't make the list.
"Tell us what happened, Tate," Ryu said.
Tate nodded, taking the opening Ryu had given her before the dragon commander could go off on another tangent. "We were leaving the meeting with the magister. They asked if I was me."