Eight Simple Rules for Dating a Dragon

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  Annika paused for only a moment, then followed him, and Dimitri’s curse filtered down the hillside.

  “Stay here,” Silas warned Gwen as he handed her a dagger from his boot. “I’ll send Aleksi to help you guard this entrance. If you see anything run outside, like a rat, it could be the Chameleon trying to escape. You’ll have to kill it.”

  She nodded, her face pale. “I understand. Be careful.”

  “You, too.” He touched her face, then hurried down the tunnel, his dragon eyes adjusting quickly to the dark.

  He found Aleksi, dressed only in breeches and a sword belt, hovering close to the main cavern. “Go,” he whispered. “I want you to guard the entrance. And keep Gwen safe.”

  Aleksi reluctantly backed toward the entrance.

  Silas inched forward till he was at the edge of the cavernous room. Brody was hunched down, peering around a rock.

  “I told you to trust no one but me,” a raspy voice carried toward them.

  Silas peeked around the rock wall to see inside. Steam and the stench of rotten eggs rose from the bubbling cauldron of the Sacred Well in the middle of the main room. The boiling-hot stream bisected the room as it made its way down the tunnel and out the main entrance. On the far side of the stream, he spotted a dragon and his brother. Petras had shifted to human form, and he was kneeling in front of the dragon.

  “Forgive me, I beg you!” Petras cried as he prostrated his naked body on the ground. “I’ll do whatever you say if you’ll just save my wife!”

  “You have failed me,” the dragon grumbled. “You should have attacked Tourin by now. You should have brought me their queen!”

  Silas unsheathed his sword as he stepped into the room. “Why would a dragon want a human female?”

  The dragon whipped around to glare at him.

  Petras jumped to his feet. “Silas! Get out of here. You’ll ruin everything. Fafnir’s going to help me!”

  “He’s not Fafnir.” Silas edged toward the Sacred Well. Once he made it around the boiling cauldron to the other side, he could protect his brother and attack the dragon. “He’s only pretending to—”

  “He’s Fafnir!” Petras cried.

  “I told you we couldn’t trust your brother,” the dragon hissed.

  “He is Fafnir!” Petras yelled at Silas. “He has to be.” Tears glimmered in his eyes. “It’s the only way I can save Freya.”

  The dragon lowered its neck, angling its head toward Petras. “I will save her if you kill him.”

  Petras flinched.

  “Kill him,” the dragon hissed. “Breathe your fire on him.”

  “You do it!” Silas lifted his arms to side. “If you’re truly Fafnir, prove it. Roast me!”

  “Silas, no!” Petras started to run toward him, but the dragon knocked the king down with a swipe of its wing, then pinned him.

  “He’s mine,” the dragon hissed.

  “Release him!” Silas circled the Sacred Well and aimed a stream of fire at the dragon, forcing him back.

  Petras scrambled away.

  “You see, Petras?” Silas helped his brother to his feet. “He’s not a dragon. He retreats from fire and he can’t breathe it.”

  “Not a dragon?” Petras stared at the false Fafnir with a confused look.

  Brody emerged from behind the rock, growling as he approached the stream.

  The dragon reared up, baring its teeth. “You again. I’ll kill you this time.”

  Brody shifted into a large wildcat and leaped across the stream. As he charged toward the Chameleon, the dragon also shifted into a wildcat.

  The two beasts leaped at each other, meeting in midair with swiping claws and gnashing teeth. They hit the ground, rolling.

  “What?” Petras stumbled. “He—he’s a cat now?”

  Silas steadied him. “He’s a Chameleon—”

  “He tricked me!” Petras trembled as horrified rage swept over his face. “The bastard tricked me!” He ran toward the fighting cats, shooting fire at them.

  “No!” Silas pulled him back, but it was too late.

  The cats howled in pain as their fur caught fire. They rolled on the ground, forgetting their battle as they desperately tried to snuff out the flames. One stopped, breathing heavily as it lay on its side, while the other rose slowly to its feet.

  Which one was Brody?

  The one limping toward them shifted into Brody in his human form.

  Silas hesitated. Was it Brody or was the Chameleon tricking them? He pointed his sword at him. “Identify yourself.”

  “That one has to be the Chameleon!” Petras pointed at the second wildcat and ran toward it. “I’ll kill him myself.”

  As he passed by Brody, he was seized in a fierce grip. “I should have never relied on a fool like you.” The false Brody shifted into a likeness of Petras. “I should have killed you and taken your place months ago.”

  Petras grew pale.

  Silas aimed his sword at the Chameleon. “Release him.”

  The Chameleon moved the real Petras in front of him, an arm crooked around his neck. “You can’t breathe fire on me without roasting your brother first.”

  Silas watched, helpless, as the Chameleon backed away, dragging his brother. If he mentally called for help from Dimitri or Aleksi, would the Chameleon kill his brother? He played for time while he tried to figure out what to do. “Why didn’t you replace the king months ago?”

  “I was already controlling him, along with Romak.” The Chameleon sneered. “And I was waiting for his damned wife to die. I thought she would know if I took his place.”

  “You—you wanted Freya to die?” Petras whispered.

  “Of course.” The Chameleon snorted. “I kept giving you poisoned rings for her, but the bitch was taking forever to keel over.”

  “No!” Petras struggled, but the Chameleon shifted one of his hands into a giant bear paw with sharp claws that dug into the king’s neck.

  “Stop!” Silas stepped forward,

  The Chameleon gave him an annoyed look. “Why couldn’t you do as the king ordered you? You were supposed to invade Tourin for me and get Brigitta. You were supposed to die in battle, dammit, but you kept surviving. I’ll just have to kill you now. Along with this worthless king.” He shoved Petras into the boiling stream.

  Petras’s scream echoed throughout the cavern as Silas ran toward him.

  “No!” Silas grabbed a flailing hand and hauled his brother out of the stream. Most of Petras’s body was a hideous red, all the skin burned away. “Shift! If you shift, maybe you can—”

  Dammit to hell! His brother would never survive this. Silas grabbed his sword and leaped toward the Chameleon, but the false Petras shifted into an eagle and flew toward the opening.

  “Dimitri!” Silas shouted, and a stream of fire shot down, engulfing the eagle in flames.

  With a shriek, the bird fell to the ground.

  Good riddance. Silas turned his attention back to his brother. “Petras.” He knelt beside him. “Can you shift?”

  A rattling sound came from Petras’s chest as he struggled to breathe.

  Aleksi and Gwen ran into the cavern.

  “We heard screaming,” Gwen cried as they rounded the Sacred Well to join him.

  “Your Majesty!” Aleksi fell onto his knees by Petras.

  “Can you help him?” Silas asked Gwen.

  She turned pale with a horrified look as her gaze ran over the king’s burned body. “I—I don’t think … I’m sorry, but…” Her eyes glimmered with tears. “Silas, he doesn’t have any skin left except for that one hand.”

  Silas clung to Petras’s hand as his heart clenched in his chest. There was nothing he could do to help his brother.

  Gwen touched his shoulder. “Silas, I’m sorry.”

  I should have protected him better. I should have … “Petras,” Silas whispered, wishing he could at least take away some of the pain.

  A moan sounded across the cavern as Brody shifted back into human form.
He lay on his side, one of his legs red with welts.

  “Brody!” Gwen ran toward him.

  He winced. “I’ll be all right.”

  Dimitri, dressed only in half-buttoned breeches, ran into the cavern with Annika. “Did I hit him? Did I—” He halted with a jerk when he saw the king. “Your Majesty.”

  Annika gasped and covered her mouth.

  Dimitri approached slowly. “How…?”

  “The Chameleon pushed him into the stream.” Silas motioned toward the burned eagle lying in a smoldering heap on the ground. “You hit him good.”

  Suddenly a burst of flames erupted from the eagle, and a huge bird with glimmering green and purple feathers rose from a pile of ashes.

  “No!” Brody struggled to stand.

  Silas ran at the bird, swinging his sword and shooting fire. With a screech, the bird shot through the opening above them.

  Dammit. Silas debated shifting into a dragon to follow the Chameleon, but he hated to leave his dying brother. “Aleksi, Dimitri, go after him. Roast him!”

  Brody lifted a hand to stop them. “It’s no use. You can’t kill him with fire. He figured out how to shift into a phoenix. He’ll keep rising from the ashes.”

  “You mean we can’t kill him?” Dimitri demanded.

  Brody winced, obviously still in pain. “Not with fire, but we should be able to stab him to death. If we can ever catch the damned bastard.”

  “Silas,” Petras moaned.

  Silas knelt beside him, taking hold of his uninjured hand. “I’m here. We’ll take you back to the castle.”

  “I—I want to be with Freya.”

  “Don’t say that!” Silas squeezed his brother’s hand. “You have to fight this, Petras. You’re still the king.”

  “You’ll be a better king than I ever was,” Petras whispered. “I failed—”

  “Stop it,” Silas growled. “I’m going to shift and carry you back. I’ll take care of you.” His brother’s eyes flickered shut and his hand went limp. “Petras? Petras!”

  Annika covered her face as a sob escaped.

  “Petras!” Silas yelled, grabbing his brother’s face. “Don’t do this! Don’t leave me!”

  Dimitri and Aleksi knelt, bowing their heads. “Your Majesty.”

  Were they referring to him? Silas shook his head. “No! I don’t want to hear it.”

  Gwen sat beside him, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”

  Silas fell back onto his rump. No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. The Chameleon was still alive, and his brother was dead? “No.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Gwen repeated with tears streaming down her face.

  He pulled her into his arms and glanced at his friends and family. They were watching him sadly, waiting for him to take charge. Dammit.

  Slowly, he hefted himself to his feet. “Dimitri, please shift and take the late king’s body back to the chapel at Draven Castle. A closed casket for him and his queen. Make arrangements with the priest to bury them tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Dimitri murmured.

  “Aleksi, shift and take Brody back,” Silas ordered. “Take Annika with you, so she can treat his wounds.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Aleksi and Annika replied.

  “I could treat him,” Gwen suggested.

  “Annika knows how to do it.” Silas took Gwen’s hand. “You and I will ride back together. I need that time to … adjust. By the time we arrive at the castle, I’ll be ready to assume my duties.”

  With a last tearful glance at his brother, Silas led Gwen through the tunnel to the entrance. Grief struck him hard, causing a jabbing pain in his heart. He doubled over, pressing a hand to his chest.

  Dammit to hell. Tears burned his eyes. He was a failure. He’d failed to kill the Chameleon. He’d failed to save his brother and the queen.

  “Silas.” She leaned over to look at his face. “Are you in pain?”

  “Gwen.” He slowly straightened. A tear rolled down his cheek. “I failed.”

  “Don’t say that.” She cradled his face with her hands. “The Chameleon wanted to take over Norveshka and use its army and dragons to destroy the rest of the mainland. He was planning to take over the entire world.”

  Silas nodded. “Along with the Circle of Five.”

  “We stopped them,” Gwen insisted. “This has to be a huge setback for them.”

  She was making a good point. He wiped his face dry, then continued toward the entrance of the cave.

  As they stepped outside into the bright sunlight, Silas spotted Dimitri and Aleksi in dragon form, flying out of the opening at the top of the cavern. His brother’s body was on its way back to Draven Castle.

  “Come on.” He led Gwen toward the horses.

  “Are you feeling better now?”

  “My heart is still hurting.” He pulled her into his arms. “Can my beloved healer take care of that?”

  She held him tight. “There may be a scar left for years to come, but you will feel better. It will take time and a lot of love.”

  “I do love you, Gwen. I love you so much.”

  “I know.” She touched his face and looked up at him, her beautiful lavender-blue eyes glimmering with love and tears. “I will love you through good times and bad. Whether we’re soaked with rain or reaching for the stars.”

  He took a deep breath. “We’re going to be king and queen from now on. Will you be all right with that?”

  She nodded. “We can do it. As long as we’re together.”

  He kissed her brow. “Together.”

  Epilogue

  TWO WEEKS LATER …

  A cheer rang through the courtyard as Gwennore exited the chapel with her newly wedded husband. She and Silas had ended up having their wedding and coronation all at once in order to assure the Norveshki people that life would continue as usual.

  Better than usual, Gwennore thought. For Silas had already arranged for a truce with Woodwyn and signed peace treaties with the royal houses of Eberon and Tourin. Those treaties had been easy to manage since the kings and queens of Eberon and Tourin were currently at Draven Castle for the wedding and coronation.

  When the courtiers had realized the connections that Gwennore had, in addition to being an elfin princess, they had started singing her praises. They still considered her a witch, but a good one, who was going to bring fertility back to their country and save them all.

  Gwennore glanced back and grinned at her bridesmaids—Sorcha, Annika, Maeve, and Olenka. Eviana had served as a flower girl, while Eric and Reynfrid had carried in the newly crafted crowns.

  The troll chieftain had come with a few from his tribe, and they’d brought several barrels of mead.

  Gwennore slanted an admiring glance at her husband, gorgeous as always in the green-and-brown uniform he still insisted on wearing. The crown on his head was much like hers—a simple circlet of gold with one emerald in front. The jewels from the old crowns had been used to help the poor and buy supplies to make more tonic.

  As Silas took her hand to lead her up the stairs to a balcony where they could address the crowd, he leaned close to whisper, “Rule number eight: There is only one mate for a dragon, and he will love her forever.”

  She smiled. “That’s a good one.”

  “It’s true. My heart is yours.”

  “I’ll take excellent care of your extra-large heart.” She squeezed his hand. “But we’re married now. I think you can stop inventing rules for dating.”

  “You’re right.” His green eyes glittered with humor. “Now I plan to come up with Eight Simple Positions for Making Love.”

  She laughed. The rascal. “Eight?”

  “We can do it. We just have to stay positive.”

  “I believe you.”

  He grinned. “I’m thinking we can do four tonight.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Gwennore met her sisters and Annika for breakfast in Luciana’s sitting room. It gladdened her heart t
o see how close Sorcha was becoming to her cousin and her brother. She knew it was helping Silas to have his sister here.

  Annika snorted when Gwennore sat at the table. “I’m surprised you’re awake this early.”

  “Really,” Sorcha agreed. “We thought you would be asleep all day.”

  Gwennore shook her head, smiling. Now she had two outspoken redheads who enjoyed pestering her.

  “Don’t mind them,” Maeve said as she slipped the dog Brody a slice of bacon. One of Brody’s back legs had been slathered with ointment and wrapped in gauze for a week, but it was much better now. “We’re really happy for you.”

  “And so proud of you,” Luciana added.

  Brigitta shuddered. “I hate it that the Chameleon managed to escape.”

  With a whimper, Brody slunk under a chair.

  “Look what you did.” Maeve gave Brigitta a sour look. “You hurt Julia’s feelings.”

  “Julia?” Annika looked at Brody and laughed.

  He flopped down, covering his ears with his paws.

  Gwennore gave him a wry look. How shocked her sisters would be if they knew he could talk!

  “I hear you’re getting married soon?” Luciana asked Annika.

  With a grin, she nodded. “Next week.” She elbowed her cousin Sorcha. “Your turn is next.”

  Sorcha shrugged. “Not interested.”

  Gwennore scoffed. She knew Sorcha had wanted to meet someone special for years now.

  “Let’s see what the Telling Stones will say!” Maeve ran to a trunk and pulled out a linen bag.

  “No, no.” Sorcha waved her hands. “I don’t want to know my future.”

  “What are you afraid of?” Maeve emptied the stones into a wooden bowl. “Everything turned out wonderfully well for Luciana, Brigitta, and Gwennore. I’m sure it will be the same for you.”

  Annika fingered the colored and numbered stones. “You use these to predict the future?”

  “Luciana does,” Sorcha grumbled. “She’s right so often that it’s downright scary.”

  “It sounds exciting!” Annika pushed the bowl toward her cousin. “Do it.”