Fire of Stars and Dragons

by Melissa Petreshock

  “I have one.” In low, flat words, he confirms his fear. “Please tell me you mean I will once she has time to better acquaint herself with me.”

  “No. You have one.”

  Silence. “At least tell me it has nothing to do with any of the adjectives she used to describe me last night.”

  “I don’t know. Did she happen to mention anything about what a pretentious snob you are before I came out?” I ask, maintaining a manner of serious discussion.

  “That’s rather judgmental. She barely knows me.” His tone entertains me to no end, the scowling expression he wears evident through the phone. “I can’t imagine what she must call Jaiteru.”

  “Smiley. She calls him Smiley Dragon.” One box of books unpacked, I open the next, shelving these as well. For the first time in my existence, I do not feel as though I am settling into just another temporary place in life while guarding yet another ward. This location will not be forever, but we will be, Cait and I, making this a home—a real home.

  “Well, we shall see how long that lasts. Give it time, Theo. I will gain Lady Hayden’s favor.” Overconfident. Typical Oliver. “For now, be thankful she does not find Jaiteru distasteful. With the elves intent on taking action, I advise you keep him near her.”

  “I quite intend to. No one has her best interests at heart more than I, Oliver.” My reply is firm, finding offense in the fact he sees any need to give guidance in this matter. “And given Jai’s utter fascination with all things mystical, I believe keeping him adhered to her side will not be a difficult task.”

  “Then I will see you at the Gilroy House. Do be careful, Theo,” he adds quietly.

  “And you, Oliver.” I tap my GoSky, ending the call, knowing he is in more danger than either of us will admit aloud with a ward out of control, surrounded by elves bloodthirsty for revenge against dragons, and now alone.

  ***

  Jai says little yet conveys much, facial expressions and body language speaking volumes, painting pictures of a thousand words in the smallest reactions to his surroundings. And he adores Cait to such a profound degree one might believe he loves her as if she were his own ward. She makes him most lively to observe.

  “You know, now that you’re with me, you guys don’t have to wear those suits.” Cait’s commentary comes at random, departing from the limo at the Gilroy Children’s House for a regular visit she makes as a major benefactor of Evan and Runa’s pet project. A longstanding tradition of her uncle’s to come the day after the gala, she intends to uphold it whether I feel it is safe or not. “Jai isn’t wearing a stuffy suit.”

  I refrain from telling her he claims they misalign his chakras. “He’s a nonconformist,” I remark instead, glancing over her head at my brother in his loose pants and sandals, though he did don a silk, mandarin-collared tunic… after I told him he could not remain shirtless in the city. No amount of explaining will force Jai to understand his tattoos do not accommodate a sense of public propriety here as they do among the Fae.

  “Says the dragon who likes to wear ancient rock band t-shirts. What exactly is a Blue Oyster Cult, anyway?” She does this just to aggravate me, and I know it. We already discussed the topic for more than an hour this morning. “This is casual. You don’t see me dressed up, Theo. We’re here to see the children.”

  “Of course.” Never would I fail to notice what she wears, especially when it consists of a pair of form-fitting leggings with black leather boots, though I can’t say the silvery shirt does anything for me, but it does help that I know exactly what is beneath it. “You look lovely regardless of what you wear. We, however, must maintain a measure of professional appearance when representing you at public functions, Cait.”

  “She sparkles,” Jaiteru softly adds to the conversation, pointing to her shirt, smiling. “Like Claaron.”

  While containing my laughter, Claaron’s eyes fix into a death glare. There is nothing he despises more than commentary on the way his frosty hair glistens in the sunlight. He would hurt me for saying less.

  None of us would dare lay a finger on Jai.

  “That’s why we call him Snowflake.” Cait false-whispers, a devilish grin on her lips while eyeing Claaron. “He’s pretty like snowfall in the sunshine.”

  I believe she winks at him, adding fuel to the fire.

  Liam makes a small noise behind us, trying not to laugh as well, and if we weren’t in public, our Graywyne brother would be laying into us for this.

  “And like me.” Jai speaks more in any single conversation with Cait than we would get from him in a typical week. “Blue dragons sparkle in the sun. Like gold.” His eyes widen, waving a hand toward the sky.

  “Yes, Smiley, you’re a prettier dragon than Snowflake.” He smiles at her, walking closer, content he is favored in Cait’s eyes, and as we enter the building, Claaron and Clifford holding the double doors for her, I do believe Snowflake is jealous.

  These two may cause problems in my command of her Guard. Both enjoy Cait’s calm, nonplussed attitude toward them immensely, as it is not a reaction received from most others, and I daresay they will vie for her attention. I do not wish to contemplate how events will unfold when Oliver pledges his loyalty, determined in proving himself as well.

  “Caitriona, you look quite darling.” Appearing around a corner, Dante offers the swift compliment with a smile as he joins us, not waiting for a response from her before dropping his voice. “Nothing seems amiss here,” he reports, having volunteered to come ahead and ensure nothing lay in wait to endanger Cait upon her arrival. “As you may have noticed, they haven’t arrived yet. I called Cedric, learning Oliver is having great difficulty with the elves. They insisted on replacing Alonzo with a driver of their own. Corrin seems oblivious, though his decision in accompanying Cait during her visit today lends to the belief he knows more than deceptive appearances lead one to think. Evan is worried.”

  “Z.” I meet his eyes for a moment in confirmation. “Your thoughts?”

  “Perhaps they wish to test your defenses in some manner, or at the very least, desire a comparative examination. I am not a warrior, Theo. I study historical data regarding the subject, but knowledge makes me none more experienced than if I had never opened a book in my entire existence. Personally, I would want to gather additional information before provoking my enemy, but I cannot say that is the wisest move. You have lived through wars, whereas I have only read about them after the fact. Tell me what you predict.”

  “I predict enemies will never be completely predictable; therefore, you must always be prepared to face them.”

  Dante’s features fix into a severe expression. “And are we prepared?”

  “Although I cannot speak for you, we are dragons. We are always prepared to face our enemies.” Stating this, I nod to redirect his attention forward.

  “Cait, it’s wonderful to see you again.” Runa rushes to Cait, hugging her as if they are of some significance to one another, though Cait said Evan’s wife was never present during these visits in the past. “You’re going to love the new dance center we’ve added this year.”

  “I’m sure I will.” Cait smiles, falling into the role learned from her uncle, discussing appropriation of funding as she steps away from us, Jai at her side, Claaron at her back. If Dante missed anything, I am assured she has the best protection possible, aside from my own.

  Waiting back a moment, I take the tiny earpiece from my pocket, adjusting it in place. “You’ve ensured these are entirely secure from the King’s Guard frequency?” I ask Clifford, he and Liam following suit.

  “I had to alter the encrypt —“

  “A simple yes or no,” I demand.

  Frowning at the interruption to his prepared tech rant, Clifford nods. “Yes.”

  My brother knows I am not that technologically savvy, nor do I have any interest in being so. I can operate the utility apps necessary on my Sky Book with a measurable degree of efficiency and play Mahjong. I find nothing else pertinent. “Take up y
our stations according to plan, and maintain protocol.”

  Dante and I return to following Cait as they walk away. “What is the protocol if they attack? Have you planned for that contingency?” Worry frays at his words, and I think he has spent far too much time buried in books rather than in the real world.

  “Protocol says if they attack, kill them,” I respond with ease, watching Cait disappear through a doorway into one of the new dance classrooms, according to the latest building schematics Clifford downloaded.

  “I know for a fact Caitriona essentially attacked you on more than one occasion, yet you haven’t killed her.” Dante bears just a hint of sarcasm.

  Considering his ego is far too bruised, I choose not to tell him teasing and arguing with Cait is akin to foreplay. “She is more than welcome to continue attacking me, Dante. I generally provoke her.”

  He is still puzzled when we enter the room where Cait stands observing a group of very young children learning basic ballet positions. All the little girls in the class have their hair up in some variation of a bun, the same way Cait wears hers today, and I can imagine her as a mother with painful clarity.

  The teacher waves to Cait, and she grins, waving back. “You dancing this year?” asks the woman.

  “Of course, Michelle. Don’t I always?” Cait pulls off her jacket, handing it to Runa. This seems to be a part of the routine visit of which I was not aware. She unzips her boots and slips them off, leaving her feet bare. “Do you still have my song?”

  I want to watch every move she makes as she steps to the center of the room, Michelle changing the music playing while an assistant teacher instructs the children to sit on the floor along the wall, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway has my full attention. Claaron lets out a low growl of warning at the scent of elves in the air.

  “All hail the king.” Dante’s glare and humorless statement precede the arrogant monarch striding through the door dressed in the manner he often does for public appearances: dark jeans, button down shirt, and sport coat, maintaining a certain appeal to the human population.

  Corrin glances over, gesturing for Oliver and Aiden to join him as Evan comes in, seeking out his wife, and greeting Runa with a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ve been told she always dances when she comes, but I’ve never had the opportunity to see,” he comments in a light, pleasant manner, smiling and nodding to each of us before turning to watch Cait.

  Oliver’s face wears great distress, and I do not feel good about this situation. Still keeping a strong awareness on Corrin, I try focusing at least some attention on Cait’s unexpected performance for the children. She moves with such fluid gracefulness, years of ballet lessons evident, though her style is less classical than contemporary, and I love the expression of emotions displayed in every step, every lift of an arm, fall of a hand, arch of a leg, and in each turn and jump. She is mesmerizing, captivating, beautiful.

  The tempo and intensity of the music increases, and with it, Cait’s dance allows her strength to shine with overwhelming brilliance. There is a sharper edge to her turns, a defining power to each jump, and I cannot imagine how Corrin believes he could rein in such a woman. Cait need not be controlled, overshadowed by a man. She must be protected so no one may ever break her spirit.

  “Cait sparkles,” Jai says in his soft way, the sunlight from the window on her shirt catching his eye. “Cait dances like dragons fly.”

  “Yes, Jai. She is as strong as any dragon too.”

  “Nacgqo.” He nods, smile bright and cheerful, living in the now, a trait it seems only Jai possesses of all dragons. “Cait is our North Star.”

  Watching as the song slows to an end, for a moment, I allow myself to ignore Corrin’s presence, my sole focus on Cait. My Cait. “Indeed, Jai. She is my North Star.”

  *Cait*

  Standing beside Corrin for a few press photos is just about more than I can stand, but Theo and Dante are firm in their stance that pretending I haven’t made a decision is much safer. I’m not sure exactly whom it’s safer for, because I may stake the bastard with the first sharp object I see. “Back off a bit, please.” I try saying it as nicely as possible, and he gives me maybe a quarter of an inch more of personal space.

  “You did not take issue with my proximity Thursday morning when inviting me to taste you… or last night when we danced together.”

  His provocative whispering in my ear may drive me over the edge.

  One more smile for the camera with him, and I turn, still smiling, making a show of perfect civility. “We aren’t dancing, Corrin, and if any of my dragons hear the snick of your fangs dropping, I’d bet money they’ll give them to me as earrings, because they sure as Hades won’t be in your mouth.”

  “Now, Cait, surely you can be nicer than that. I meant nothing improper by what I said, simply an astute observation of your behavior.”

  I eye him suspiciously, knowing there is more going on than any of the dragons are telling me, but not knowing how wary I should be of Corrin. “I’ll be as nice as you are.”

  “That sounds perfectly reasonable.” The corner of his mouth curves up, twitching before breaking out in a self-confident smirk. “I have every intention of being nice to you, Cait. Very, very nice to you.” His eyebrows rise as if he asked a question and expects a response. But I say nothing, falling back to my ‘if you have nothing nice to say’ rule this time. “Shall I escort you out?”

  He crooks his left arm for me, acting like he’s really a gentleman. I glance to Theo, who stiffly nods, and slip my arm around his, pretending he actually is. “Why, thank you, Your Majesty.” There’s something about me not calling him Corrin that I notice irritates him every time, making it worthwhile.

  Our guards fall in around us, Sir Oliver behind the king, Theo so close behind me I can feel his body heat in sharp contrast to the cool of Corrin’s arm as he pulls me in too near for my comfort. Claaron steps beside me, intercepted by Jai slipping in between us, grinning from ear to ear, and with a sour expression, Snowflake makes room for the little dragon.

  Reaching the bottom of the steps outside the building, I hear it, reminding me of a battle cry from an old movie I saw with Uncle Thomas. I can’t register which direction it came from before I’m off my feet, somebody whisking me away from the deafening growling, roaring, and the sickening glimpse of an elf’s head torn from his neck with bare hands.

  Theo’s hands.

  The arms around me are cold, and the simple thought of what that means sends more shivers through me than the sensation of his chilled touch.

  “Did you order this?” Dropping me on my feet, my back against one of the shade trees in the parking lot, his hands on my shoulders, trapping me, he’s demanding and authoritative.

  “Me? You just…” I stumble for the right word, a bit shaken. “You just abducted me!”

  He looks around, an anxious eye toward the building where even I can hear the fighting continuing. “If you did not order this, and neither did I, then I may have very well saved your life. I most certainly did not abduct you.”

  There’s a dazzling flash of lightning, and Dante appears behind him, clutching the vampire king’s shoulder in a vise-like grip, forcing him to his knees. “What did you think you might accomplish with this, Corrin?”

  “Nothing, Dante. I swear. I did nothing.” His face is a picture of torture, the sound of his voice adding to the pitiful sight. “You must believe me.”

  “I must do no such thing.” There’s a darkness in Dante’s tone, something beyond what I thought him capable of as he places his hands on either side of Corrin’s head, and I close my eyes, expecting a beheading right in front of me. I may not like Corrin, but no part of me wants to witness his execution.

  “No, Dante.” The softly spoken, accented words accompany the smell of smoke in the air, making me squint to check before opening my eyes and seeing Jai kneeling to face Corrin, staring into his eyes. “Pawn. Not player.” With a huff of what I’m positive is disappointmen
t, the demigod shoves the king to the ground face first, Corrin’s nose oozing blood so dark, at a glimpse it appears black, as he struggles back to his knees while avoiding Dante’s reach. “No. No. Not nice.” In his childlike way, Jai chastises the infuriated demigod, then stands, taking a place at my side, stroking my arm with his fingers.

  Despite the situation, I want to laugh at the expression on Dante’s face, a combination of surprise and annoyance. “It seems you forget, in a game of chess, the queen is far more dangerous than the king, Corrin.”

  “I do not forget that lesson, Dante. You taught me to play chess quite well, but the elves do not believe she is merely my potential queen.” Corrin sounds damned arrogant for someone in his position.

  My little Smiley Dragon leans toward him. “Not believe. They know.”

  It’s grown too quiet in the direction of the building, and I peek around the tree, trying to see something, but all I see are what I think are huge areas of scorched grass and a melted lamppost. “Where are my dragons?”

  Jai points up to the sky, smiling. “They see.”

  And they do. From that high up, I’m sure they can see everything, four green dragons and one silver, soaring through the air, circling around the area, swooping down here and there. “Your dragons are ensuring the problematic elves are taken care of in the vicinity,” Dante clarifies. “I believe Theo will decide your fate, Corrin. You might wish I did remove your head.”

  Apparently satisfied with what they see, or what they don’t, the five of them glide toward us, thundering roars released as they land. I can’t help but laugh when Claaron chooses to land atop an SUV marked with the royal coat of arms. Giving way under his weight, the shiny black vehicle twists into a piece of wreckage as he shifts forms and jumps off its roof in one fluid movement, breaking into a swift run and heading to Theo the second he does.

  Theo remains in his massive, emerald green dragon form, lying heavily on the pavement, puffs of smoke released with each breath, the other three Pendragons rushing over to him as they each shift. “What’s wrong? Why isn’t he shifting?” Worried, I want answers. Something isn’t right, and Jai attaches himself to my arm as I make my way to Theo, half afraid of what I’ll find.