Eight Simple Rules for Dating a Dragon

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  She glanced at his hands. She’d never seen him wear a ring or any sort of jewelry. His uniform was always made of the same cloth as the ones worn by the other soldiers. For a man with a great deal of power, he was still down to earth and humble. He felt no need to flaunt his strength, and that made him seem even stronger. Even more appealing.

  How could she ever leave him?

  She shook herself mentally. Stay focused on business. “I think the war with Woodwyn is unnecessary and a sad waste of lives.”

  “True. Those are things we need to change.” He looked at her. “Anything else?”

  When he said we, did that mean he was including her? “Does my opinion actually count?”

  “Of course.” He gave her an exasperated look. “Do you still not know how much I value your insight?”

  Her heart warmed in her chest. From the beginning, he had always thought highly of her.

  “Is there anything good about my country?” he asked wryly.

  She smiled. “I’ve made some wonderful new friends.”

  “That’s good.”

  She looked at the sweetly scented forest with its undergrowth of green ferns and wildflowers. Boulders lay here and there, colored green and gold with spongy moss and lichen. In the distance, snow gleamed on the mountain peaks. Nearby, the Norva River was making a roaring sound as it tumbled over the falls into the canyon. The falls that had almost swept her to her death.

  “I think the land can be frightening. But at the same time, wonderfully soothing.” She sighed. “It’s the most beautiful countryside I’ve ever seen. It draws me to it. I don’t know why.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Does it feel like your homeland?”

  Yes. She shrugged. “It’s fairly obvious that I come from Woodwyn.”

  He remained quiet and thoughtful as they rode into the green pasture next to the lake. Nearby, the giant redwoods stretched into the sky.

  Gwennore winced. In order to communicate with the Kings of the Forest, she would have to drop the shield around her mind. Silas wouldn’t be able to hear what the trees were telling her, but he would hear all of her thoughts. She’d have to be careful not to let him know how much she’d fallen for him.

  She dismounted before he could help her and strode toward the giant trees as she stripped away the shield. Greetings, Kings of the Forest.

  It is the Elf.

  She has returned.

  I’ve brought the heir to the throne with me, Gwennore explained, glancing at Silas, who was tethering the two horses to the low branch of a pine tree. He will make sure a law is passed, prohibiting men from cutting down any more of your kind.

  The trees swayed gently, even though there was no wind. Gwennore tilted her head back to watch the tops of the trees move in unison. Was this their way of celebrating?

  Silas joined her, the canvas bag slung over a shoulder. His mouth fell open as he watched the slow-motion dance. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. They must be happy.”

  Thank you. Many voices echoed in her mind.

  You’re welcome. She retrieved the small pouch containing the rings from her pocket, along with a pair of gloves. I believe you have heard of the curse that plagues the Norveshki royal family.

  Yes. The Ancient Ones placed a curse on the three sons of the first king, Magnus.

  That was five hundred years ago, another tree said. At the end of the Great Dragon War.

  So there were two sets of dragons fighting each other? Gwennore asked, her gaze drifting toward Silas, who gave her a wary look.

  Yes, one of the Kings replied. The new dragons rebelled against the Ancient Ones. In those days, the sky was filled with fire and the stench of death.

  The younger ones were victorious, another King added. The Ancient Ones are no more.

  “Are you going to test the rings?” Silas motioned to the pouch in her hands.

  Trying to change the subject, she thought as she knelt and slipped on her gloves. She emptied the sack onto the ground. I suspect these three rings are poisonous. Is there a way you can verify that?

  Yes.

  The ground beneath her shook.

  Silas dropped the sack containing the crown on the ground as he crouched beside her. “What’s happening?”

  “I’m not sure.” She gasped when the ground close by suddenly heaved up a foot, making a small mound.

  The ground split, and the tentacle-like ends of a root emerged, uncurling as if it were a hand opening wide.

  Silas sat back. “What the hell?”

  Give us the rings.

  She placed the three rings on what looked like gnarled wooden fingers.

  “Fascinating,” Silas whispered.

  You are correct. This is poison.

  Gwennore quickly removed the rings. Are you all right? It didn’t hurt you?

  We are not easily harmed.

  We have been here for centuries.

  And we will be here when you have long turned to dust.

  Gwennore dropped the rings back into the pouch. Is it the metal that is poisonous?

  It is lead. You should bury it in a cave.

  We will. Thank you. Gwennore repeated what she’d learned to Silas, since he was unable to hear the trees.

  “If the queen held food in her hands, like bread, she could have actually consumed some of the lead over time.”

  Silas removed the crown from its canvas bag. “Can they test this?”

  We believe the queen’s crown might also be poisonous, Gwennore mentally told the Kings.

  A thick root emerged from the ground, and once it was exposed to the air, the end started to roll, curling back onto itself until it formed a large wooden knob the size of a person’s head.

  Silas placed the crown on top.

  You are correct. This is poison.

  More lead. And some mercury.

  Someone is poisoning your queen.

  Gwennore removed the crown and told Silas, “This is poison. It should never be worn again.”

  With a sigh, Silas glanced up to the tops of the redwoods. “I don’t suppose they could be lying.”

  “I don’t think so. They have nothing to gain by helping us stay alive. We’re nothing more than a short-lived nuisance to them.” She handed him the crown. “Is there lead in the king’s crown, too?”

  “Yes.” He dropped the crown and the pouch of rings back into the sack. “I’ll have to explain all of this to my brother, but I’m not sure he’ll believe me.”

  “Why not?”

  “He may be reluctant to see the Ancient Ones as villains.”

  “But if they knew the crowns were poisonous…”

  “I’m sure they did. They were experts at stones and minerals.” He tied the drawstrings on the sack, then rose to his feet. “The original agreement was that they would let Magnus be king as long as he was their puppet and his seven sons worked like slaves in the mines.”

  Gwennore stood as she stuffed her gloves back into her pocket. “I heard a bit of that story. Only three of the brothers survived.”

  With a snort, Silas motioned to the sack containing the poisoned crown. “I don’t think the Ancient Ones intended any of them to survive.”

  He slung the sack over his shoulder as he strode toward the tethered horses. “Will you give my thanks to the redwoods for their help?”

  “Of course.” She turned toward the grove of trees. Thank you so much.

  The wild ones are approaching.

  They have you surrounded.

  What? She spun around. “Silas!”

  He came to an abrupt halt, automatically dropping the crown and grabbing the hilt of his sword. Several dozen trolls stepped into the clearing and raised their spears.

  After a quick glance around, Silas lifted his hands and told them something.

  Gwennore fought a surge of panic as she edged toward him. “You—you know their language?”

  “A little.” He turned slowly, watching the trolls. “I told them we’ve come in pe
ace.”

  “Then why are they still pointing their spears at us? What do they want with us?”

  The trolls advanced a step, then another, their circle growing tighter.

  She grabbed Silas’s sleeve. “We need to go.”

  “If they meant us harm, they would have already thrown their spears.”

  “That’s not very reassuring. We need to get out of here!” Puff!

  Silas stiffened, and she felt the muscles in his arm grow tense.

  Puff. A chill ran down Gwennore’s spine. He wasn’t answering.

  Silas grabbed her by the shoulders. “You don’t need him. I will protect you.”

  “He won’t come, will he?” Her eyes burned. “He can’t come, because he’s already here.”

  Silas hissed in a breath as a flash of gold shot through his eyes. “Don’t say it.” He pressed a finger against her mouth. “Don’t even think it. Put your shield up now.”

  She turned away, her eyes filling with tears as she placed one mental brick after another, cutting herself off from him and anyone else who might hear her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me? I asked you over and over to be honest with me.”

  He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Rule number four for dating a dragon: Never tell his secrets.”

  She pushed him away. “Who said we were dating?”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  She brushed her tears away. “You should have told me. You should have trusted me.”

  He glanced over at the trolls. “I’ll explain later, but for now, we have a bigger problem.”

  She noticed that the trolls were watching her curiously and exchanging guilty looks. Perhaps they thought they were the cause of her tears.

  While Silas talked to them, she dried her face and squared her shoulders. She’d deal with him and Puff later.

  There is no Puff. A sense of grief hit her hard, then she berated herself. Puff wasn’t gone. He was Silas.

  But it would never be the same. The Puff she knew was gone.

  “They want us to come with them,” Silas said as he leaned over to grab the canvas sack.

  He took her by the elbow, but she pulled away and walked silently beside him.

  The trolls led them down a path through the forest. She counted six in front. Behind them, there were a dozen more. On either side, a few trolls were weaving through the trees. Her heart thudded. There was no way to escape.

  “Don’t worry,” Silas murmured. “They said they only want to show us something.”

  “A boiling pot over a fire?” she muttered.

  Silas winced, then leaned close to whisper, “They’re not cannibals. Watch what you say. They understand more Norveshki than they let on.”

  She clenched and released her hands, trying to remain calm. But her mind kept racing with all the horror stories she remembered from Torushki’s Bedtime Tales of a Mountain Troll.

  “They’re not a violent people,” Silas whispered.

  “They have spears.”

  “For hunting. They’re excellent hunters.”

  “Are we excellent prey?”

  He snorted. “They know who I am. They won’t dare harm me for fear of retaliation.”

  “Are they holding you for ransom? Or maybe they saw the crown and they want it?”

  Silas shook his head. “They have a longtime hatred of gold and jewels. They live off the land and are very much in tune with it.” He glanced at her. “They referred to you as the Healer. I think it’s you they’re interested in.”

  She swallowed hard. If there was an injured troll, she couldn’t do much without any medicinal herbs. Would that make them angry? “Who are they? Where do they come from?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  She scoffed. “I’ll add it to the ever-growing list.”

  He sighed. “I understand you’re a little angry.”

  “A little?”

  “Gwen.” He stopped and told hold of her shoulders. “What do you think happens to people who figure out the state’s most guarded secret?”

  She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

  His eyes flared a molten gold. “They are never allowed to leave the country.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  He closed his eyes briefly with a pained expression. When he looked at her again, his eyes were green once more. “I know how much you want to go home to your sisters. I know how eager you are to leave me behind.”

  The trolls behind them yelled something, and Silas replied as he released her.

  “They want us to keep moving.” He motioned for her to walk.

  Her mind swirled as she fell into step beside him. So he had kept the secret in order to protect her. He’d wanted her to have the freedom to leave if she wished. And she would lose that freedom if anyone learned that she knew the big secret. “You won’t tell anyone that I know?”

  He shook his head. “I know you want to leave.”

  “I would never tell anyone your secret.”

  “I know.”

  He did trust her. Her heart swelled. He had been the one to save her from falling to her death. He had saved her from going over the waterfall. He’d always been there for her.

  Puff’s voice that she loved so much had always been his voice. His sense of honor was the same as Puff’s. His sense of humor the same. His courage and gentleness.

  “I accept your apology.” She touched his hand.

  He enveloped her hand in his. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you. You’ve rescued me twice.”

  “Three times if you include the dungeon.” His mouth twitched as he laced his fingers with hers. “But who’s counting?”

  She smiled. As they walked, she became increasingly aware of their linked hands. Goddesses help her, she was dating a dragon. But she could never tell anyone what Silas truly was. Rule number four played through her mind. Never tell a dragon’s secrets.

  The trolls in front looked back and told Silas something.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What do they want?”

  “We’re about to find out.” Silas pointed at the clearing ahead of them. “That’s their village.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Thank you.” Gwennore smiled at the young female troll who was handing her a wooden bowl filled with a golden liquid. “What is this?” she whispered to Silas.

  “It’s a mead they make from honey,” Silas whispered back. “They only drink it for special occasions.”

  “Aren’t we lucky?” She took a sniff, and her eyes watered from the alcoholic fumes.

  “If you don’t drink it, you’ll hurt their feelings.”

  He smiled as he accepted a bowl from the young woman, then said a few words. Thanking her, Gwennore assumed.

  After arriving in the troll village, she and Silas had been invited to sit on two pillows of embroidered felt in front of the chieftain’s tent. The other villagers were sitting on plain linen pillows, so she and Silas had been given the best the trolls had to offer.

  The village consisted of tents of brightly colored felt, erected in a large circle. For now, all the villagers were sitting in a smaller circle, watching her curiously.

  Once everyone had a bowl of mead, they lifted their bowls in the air and shouted a cheer. Silas did the same, motioning with his free hand for Gwennore to follow suit.

  The trolls gulped down their mead, then slammed their empty bowls onto the ground.

  “Bottoms up,” Silas murmured, then downed his bowl.

  Gwennore took a sip and nearly choked as the mead went down like liquid fire. Holy goddesses, this was the strongest alcohol she’d ever tasted.

  Silas slammed his empty bowl down, and the trolls cheered. Then they turned to Gwennore with expectant looks.

  She took a big gulp and, with her eyes watering, she forced a smile. “Yummy!”

  The trolls chuckled,
then talked excitedly to one another.

  “They like you.” Silas’s smile turned into a grimace. “And they’re wondering if they could persuade you to marry the chieftain’s son.”

  “What?” She gave Silas an incredulous look.

  “Over my dead body,” he ground out through a smile of clenched teeth.

  Her mouth twitched. “Are you worried?”

  “Should I be?” His eyes narrowed when she pretended to think it over.

  The young woman brought them two more bowls, and Gwennore sighed with relief when she saw they contained some sort of soup.

  She tasted it and was pleasantly surprised. “This is excellent. Thank you!”

  The young woman grinned.

  Soon everyone was eating and chatting happily. Gwennore glanced around, admiring how colorful the tents were. The clothes worn by the troll women were equally colorful, with beautifully embroidered caps and belts.

  She leaned close to Silas and whispered, “When I saw them before, they were dressed in dirty rags. But now, they seem well-dressed.”

  “When the men hunt, they try to blend in with nature,” he whispered back. “They probably consider this a special occasion, so they’re wearing their best clothes.”

  “Do they always live in tents? Are they nomadic?”

  He nodded. “They travel far to the north in the summer, following the great herds of elk and caribou.”

  When everyone finished eating, a young man approached Gwennore and bowed. She spotted the bandage wrapped around his leg and realized this was the troll she’d treated in the river.

  “Can you ask if his wound is healing?” Gwennore asked Silas, and he talked to the young man for a moment.

  “He says he’s fine and he’s made a gift to show you his gratitude,” Silas grumbled as the young man handed her a parcel wrapped in leather.

  “Oh. Thank you!” She opened it to find a piece of wood carved into the likeness of a horse. “This is amazing.” She lifted it up to admire it. “Goodness, you’re so talented!”

  With a blush, the young man replied, then all the trolls chuckled as he ran back to his pillow.

  “What did he say?” she asked Silas.

  Silas clenched his fists, then relaxed them. “He claims to have other talents as well.”

  “Other…?”