The Awakening: The Dragon Heart Legacy Book 1

by Nora Roberts

  “He may ask.” She wasn’t sure about the braids and the bells, but her mind had other things occupying it. “Hours he’s been back, and hasn’t taken one precious moment of his time for me.”

  “Ah well now, he’s only just returned, and had meetings and such. And I heard his mother was closeted with him for a time.”

  “He finds time to come to my bed, doesn’t he?”

  “And beds no one else in the Capital these past two years or more. I would hear if he did, and I would tell you.”

  Shana reached back to squeeze Kiara’s hand. “I know you would, even if I threw something at your head for it.”

  With a laugh, Kiara completed another braid. “I thought you might when I told you the whispers of him bedding Marg’s granddaughter.”

  “People whisper of anything.” With a snap, Shana set down the bottle of scent she’d toyed with. “You said as well he was training her like one of his warriors, and knocking her into the mud more often than not.”

  “Ywain—you know him, I think, he’s Birgit’s brother who lives in the west—said he’d seen that with his own eyes. And it’s common knowledge in the west as well, they shared a bed as well as the training ground.”

  She began the final braid. “But what does it matter, as you’ve said yourself, who he tickles in the west, or the north or south, for that matter? As long as he comes to you in the east.”

  But Kiara knew her friend, felt the change, and began to soothe.

  “She’s gone now in any case, didn’t I tell you? Gone back to her world. I’m thinking he bedded her to try to convince her to stay, as she’s needed. Everyone says.”

  She swept the braids back, began to twist and coil.

  “She has red hair, you said.”

  “Aye, the fire red, but no great beauty to go with it. It may be he’ll think of her, Shana, but for the needs of Talamh. For his own? What man could look at you and think of another?”

  She’d been wrong about the braids and bells, Shana thought. They formed a kind of crown, then fell in a waterfall down her back.

  “It’s time he pledged to me, Kiara.”

  Kiara lowered her head, pressed their cheeks together, gold against cream, black against silver. “Perhaps it will be tonight.”

  Shana wore the icy blue, the braids, the bells, and knew from the glances—admiration, envy—she looked beautiful. She’d learned beauty and sex could be weapons as well as gifts. And assets, she believed, for the taoiseach as his life mate.

  She had a good brain for politics and policy, had been reared since birth on the art of diplomacy. And believed, with all her heart, she made the best choice for Keegan, and for Talamh, to stand by his side.

  His mother had held that position, that honor, that right, long enough.

  Still, she greeted Tarryn with a kiss, and another for Kiara’s mother.

  “You’re radiant,” Minga told her.

  “Your daughter made me so.” She gave her head a little shake to send the bells tinkling. “I thought I would be very late.” Deliberately so, she thought as she turned back to Tarryn. “But I see Keegan is later yet.”

  “We aren’t to wait for him, as you see.” Resplendent in red, her honeyed hair a crown of coils, Tarryn gestured. People, already feasting, filled the banquet hall. “He’s been delayed, but will join us when he can.”

  Loren walked to them. He wore silver matched with a doublet of blue, the exact shade of Shana’s gown.

  He’d bartered with Daryn to create it.

  The witch, warrior, Shana’s sometime lover, knew they made a perfect picture together as he kissed Shana’s hand, offered her wine.

  “You outshine every light in the room. Come, we have a seat for you.”

  “Go, sit with your friends, sit with the young,”

  Tarryn said. Tarryn watched them, the elf in cold, cold blue, the witch in silver, and thought how well they suited.

  “A striking couple they make,” she commented. “In every way. She’ll turn to him, I think, when she fully understands Keegan will never choose her. And would never make her truly happy if he did.”

  “And yet her mind’s set on him.”

  “Minds can change. Clouds are forming, Minga, and Talamh needs the sword and the courage to lift it, not the tinkle of bells.”

  “Ah, Tarryn, it’s a party, after all.”

  “You’re right in that, and I’m a bit too hard on her. I know you’re fond of her, as I am. Come, let’s sit with your family and enjoy what we have.”

  Shana had Loren, she knew. In the palm of her hand should she open it, in her bed whenever she wished it. She charmed him now as they sat with Kiara and others at a long table near enough to one of the fires that she could pull on its reflective glow.

  She ate little, but spent the time flirting, smiling, and saw the appreciation in Loren’s eyes.

  Green eyes, but paler than Keegan’s. He wore no warrior’s braid in his deep brown hair, but would fight, of course, with power, with sword and bow.

  He excelled with the bow, as she did. His build was good, but slighter than Keegan’s. She knew both bodies very well.

  As he preferred mixing potions, working his alchemy, Loren’s hands remained soft. They didn’t bring her the same thrill as Keegan’s.

  And when Keegan walked in, wearing unadorned black, her heart tripped up to her throat. She didn’t see, and wouldn’t have cared, that the light in Loren’s eyes dimmed.

  She lifted her wine, turned back to Loren with a light laugh, determined Keegan would come to her.

  Instead, he wound his way through the hall, stopping here and there to speak with someone, to touch a shoulder, to kiss a cheek. To make a connection on his way to his mother.

  There he greeted Minga and Og with easy warmth, as well as the three of their children who sat with them, and the others at the table before taking a seat with them.

  She caught the few looks—how could she not—and the whispers behind hands. The taoiseach hadn’t come to her, hadn’t acknowledged her.

  And that could not, would not, be borne.

  So when the dancing began, she put her hand in Loren’s and joined the line as his partner.

  She took the steps, made the turns, well aware she shined in a dance. She danced with her father, with a were she knew pined for her, with half a dozen others before Keegan walked to her.

  “You look beautiful, as always.”

  “Do I?” She tossed her head, gave him a sultry look under her lashes with their faerie dust carefully applied. “You seemed far too busy to notice.”

  “Busy I’ve been, but never too much to notice beauty.”

  “Not too busy, I hope, to take the air. I find it far too warm in here.”

  “For a few moments, of course.”

  He led her out and into the gardens, into the cool air that smelled of autumn, into moonlight that bathed the flowers in silver.

  She turned to him, turned into him. “Oh, I’ve missed you.” And gripping his face in her hands, closed her mouth over his. “Come, come with me now. Take me to your bed.”

  He’d never shared his bed with her, the taoiseach’s bed, and they both knew she didn’t ask only for sex.

  He drew her back, gently. “I’m obliged here, Shana.”

  “You’ve danced—though not with me. You’ve had words with near to everyone in the hall, but not until now with me. More than an hour in the hall before you take my hand, so others laugh at me behind theirs.”

  “That’s nonsense, and foolish.”

  “It’s neither,” she snapped back, and whirled away so the multitude of thin layers of her skirts whirled with her. “I would have you show those who titter at me what I am to you. Near the whole of the summer I waited, Keegan, and I’m done with it.”

  Hoping to calm her, he took her hand again. “I’ve never known you to care what others think, and I’m sorry to find you do. Sorry as well I’ve caused you distress.”

  “Then make it up to me.”


  Temper shifted to seduction quickly. Too quickly, he thought, noting the calculation.

  “The wine flows,” she murmured, with her hand stroking his cheek. “The music plays. You won’t be missed if we take what we want now, what we need. And if they do, what of it? You’re taoiseach.”

  “I am.” And he knew she considered that a kind of status more than duty. “Aye, I am, and so I’m obliged to those who give their time to serve the wine, to play the music, to come tonight to have a moment, to have a word.”

  “Am I not one of Talamh? I want a moment. I want the words you’ve yet to give me. I want what you’re obliged to give me.”

  Now he took both her hands—and held her at arm’s length. “I’m obliged to give you my protection and the judgment I hold in staff and sword. I give you my affection and friendship freely, with no obligation.”

  “Affection? Friendship? You come to my bed whenever you will.”

  “And have been welcome there, and by your own words, and actions as well, with no obligation on my side or on yours. Now I see I’ve mistaken those words and actions, and am in the way of hurting you. That I regret, deeply.”

  “I don’t want your regrets.” She threw her arms around him again. “Come to bed, my bed then. Do your duty here if you must, then come to me.”

  He took her wrists, drew her arms away. “I’m sorry, more than I can say. I’ve cared for you, and do still. It will never be more, never be less, than that.”

  When she slapped him, he said nothing. He deserved that and more for not seeing what she held in her mind and her heart.

  “You’d toss me aside then, as if I meant less than nothing to you. And for what? For some half-Talamhish witch who’s gone? She left you, turned away from you. Just as her father did. Will you carry blind devotion for her as you did for him?”

  “He never turned his back, not on me, not on my family, not on Talamh.”

  Though he spoke softly, his words bit. He meant them to. “Eian O’Ceallaigh gave his life for you, for me, my family, for every living thing in Talamh. And for his child hidden on the other side. Never, never disparage his name or his sacrifice to me.”

  “He’s gone! She’s gone! I’m here, ready to stand with you, to lie with you, to give you comfort, to give you sons. I love you.”

  “I can’t give you back what you offer me. I’m sorry for it, but I can’t give you what you want.”

  “So you hurt me, humiliate me, and you’re sorry for it. Well then, Taoiseach, believe this. You will be. You’ll regret turning me away like this. Others won’t.”

  “I know it.”

  “Think of me with the one I choose. And regret.”

  She started to run back into the hall, but stopped herself. Willed back the tears, pushed back any signs of fury. She walked in, glided back to Loren.

  Putting her mouth against his ear, she whispered, “The taoiseach wished to come to my bed, but I told him I had someone else in mind.”

  She nipped his earlobe before taking his hand. Though he didn’t believe her, he went with her willingly.

  The music and dancing continued after Keegan fulfilled his obligations. Weary, he sat in his rooms, ale in hand, and related the confrontation to Mahon.

  “And you don’t seem a bit surprised by any of this.”

  “Myself, aye. But Aisling, after but one meeting, claimed this is where Shana was headed, and I should never doubt her instincts. Last spring they met,” he added, “when Shana rode to the west with her parents.”

  “She might’ve told me her bloody instincts.”

  “Would you have listened?”

  He brooded into the fire, then shrugged. “Likely not, as I swear to you Shana was convincing. Not altogether true,” he corrected. “As I’d begun to see, or feel in any case, she was looking for more from me, and I’d intended to step away. But I’d have done a better job of it, I’m thinking.”

  “Does it help if Aisling also said that while Shana might have strong feelings for you, she had stronger for the taoiseach?”

  “And so I saw, or felt. How could she be reared in the Capital, where her father serves on the council, as dedicated as any could be, and not truly understand what it is to lead? Ah well, she’ll have no lack of choices to fill the vacancy, you could say.”

  “And none have what she’d see as your status.”

  Keegan gave Mahon a long look. “You didn’t like her at all, did you now?”

  “Not true. Well,” he qualified, “not altogether true. She’s a charmer, and from all I’ve seen or heard, does her part, and is a good daughter to her parents as well. But as some do, she thinks more of how she looks or what trinkets she can barter for than things such as duty and the work it demands. So, in that, she’d never have suited such as yourself.”

  Mahon rose, stretched. “I’m for bed. Don’t sit brooding too long.”

  “I can’t. I need to break my fast down in the village, visit some of the shops and workshops and so on before I come back to sit in the Chair of Justice.”

  “Would you want company for the first part of it all?”

  “Gods yes.”

  “Then I’ll ride down with you. The Smiling Cat does a fine breakfast.”

  “Then there’s where we’ll have ours.”

  He spent the morning in the village, then the rest of the day hearing complaints, petty bickering, requests for help. Small things—and he could be grateful there—though not small, he knew, for those involved.

  He listened to a man who claimed his neighbor’s dog had howled through the night, and the neighbor who said he’d buried the dog, aged and well loved, two nights before the howling.

  And the couple who reported they’d found one of their sheep burned black and gutted.

  No small things these. He could and did replace the dog with a pup from a new litter, and the sheep out of the castle fields. But he knew the signs.

  Dark crept closer.

  The time he spent with soothsayers only confirmed what he knew. So he knew he could wait no longer.

  At the edge of the deep woods, with the dark broken by starlight, he kissed his mother goodbye.

  “I’ll persuade her to come back, as she vowed she would.”

  “Tell your dragon to fly west.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll want to bring her back there, where she’ll have some of the familiar. The place, the people, Marg. Not here as yet, Keegan. It’s jolt enough, isn’t it?”

  “All right then. You’ve a point.”

  “Mahon will bring your horse. I’ll come myself, for Samhain if not before. It’s past time I see the rest of my family. You’ve done well here, my dear love.”

  He handed her the staff. “Until I return.”

  “Until you return. Blessed be, Keegan.”

  “Blessed be, Ma.”

  Breen shut down her computer when she heard Marco come in. After a glance around the bedroom, she eased the door shut as she went out.

  “How’d it go?” she asked him.

  “My last day in retail. I can hope that’s forever.”

  “No regrets?”

  “I’m officially working for two people I care about more than anybody, you and Sally. Feels weird. Good weird. I’m going to take my fine self over to the coffee shop for my day job—that’s you—so you can have the apartment for writing time.”

  “You don’t have to do that. We can—”

  “Better for both of us.” He wandered to the front window. “And a hell of an easy commute.”

  “I hear regret. Marco, everyone loved your web page design. I know they had a few suggestions, but—”

  “Good ones. I’m cool there, Breen. It’s a way big step for me. And I’m going to miss the easy access to the instruments. I mean, I’ve got my keyboard and guitar here, but I’m not gonna be able to grab a sax or a banjo and see what I can do, you know?”

  “Wait.”

  She dashed into the bedroom, took the harp in its case ou
t of her closet. “I was going to give this to you for Christmas, but . . .” She didn’t know where she’d be for Christmas. Even if she would be. “But I can’t wait,” she continued. “And this seems like the perfect time.”

  “Whatcha got there?”

  “Sit down, open the case, and find out.”

  When he did, he simply stared at the harp.

  “As soon as I saw it, it said: I’m Marco’s. There’s a shop in the village. It’s family owned and run. The father builds the instruments—some of them. This harp. He made an accordion for my dad.”

  Marco looked up then, his eyes glossy with tears. “I’ve got no words.”

  “You don’t need them. I know you didn’t love your job at the music store, but this is still a change, a big one. You’re doing it for me.”

  He plucked strings, and the notes rang pure. “Listen to her—she’s got such a voice. I’ve got a lot to learn. You gave me a push, Breen, and I figure I needed one. I’m never going to be a rock star or a hip-hop star, or any kind of star.”

  “You’ve got such a gift.”

  “Lots of people do.” Even as he shrugged, his fingers found music in the strings. “I gotta earn a living. Doesn’t mean I have to give up playing music, writing songs, but the way things were, I’d have kept spinning on in the music store to get the rent paid. Now I can do something I’m good at, have time to play for myself, and yeah, maybe try teaching some. Right here, like you said.

  “I can do that,” he said, his eyes still wet and on hers. “Because you’re going back to Ireland.”

  “Marco, I—”

  “Girl, who knows you better’n me?”

  “Nobody,” she murmured. “Just nobody.”

  “You’ve been thinking about going back since you got here. You don’t talk about getting a house anymore. That was a big clue right there. And you’re different since you came back. Not bad different. There’s just . . . more to you. And some of the more, it’s got its mind back there.”

  When she said nothing, he used the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. “Am I wrong?”

  “No, you’re not wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t you be sorry. You got a granny there. Hell, you got a dog. Something clicked for you, man, I could hear it click when we got over there. Don’t you be sorry, not to me.”