Dragon Memories: A High Fantasy Reverse Harem Romance (Legacy of Blood and Magic Book 2)

by Lacey Carter Andersen

  Bly moved more rapidly than Gannon thought possible across the great hall to where long tables lined with benches filled the space. He chose a spot in the middle of the first table, without waiting for the others to be seated. Normally, Gannon might have laughed at his complete lack of manners, but Bly’s revelation stole his amusement.

  The other guests made their slow progress across the stone floor, while Gannon remained motionless, calming his temper. It wasn’t until he noticed his father-in-law climbing the steps leading to their table, which sat just above the heads of the others that Gannon realized how long he’d been standing still. As an honored guest, Gannon was expected to be at his side, so he hurried to catch up before the others noticed his hesitation.

  But as he moved, he caught sight of the minstrels. The woman had a strand of her short, brown hair caught between her teeth.

  He nearly stumbled.

  She looked up, her dark eyes meeting his own, stopping him dead in his tracks. Not only did she meet his gaze without hesitation, but desire burned through him. No woman had looked at him like that before, although when he paid a whore enough, she certainly tried.

  It took all his will to walk past her and take his seat next to Randall. But even so, he stole glances at her as the servants laid dishes out before them. It wasn’t until she disappeared into the kitchens that he really noticed the appetizing feast. For so long he’d survived on the simple fare of the Prairie Lands. Eating had become more of a necessity than a pleasure. But here before him, in a surprising display of wealth, a feast to rival one in Eshire sat temptingly before him.

  With excitement, he motioned for a servant to fill his plate with a hearty serving of each of the different foods. Enthusiastically, he dug into a roll swimming in pear sauce and filled with berries and cheese. Rich flavors burst in his mouth, nearly making him groan aloud. Then came the rabbit, roasted and flavored with ginger, cinnamon, and cloves. It was a sweet and savory combination, moist on the inside and crisp on the outside. Meat pies filled with vegetables and exotic herbs surprised and delighted him.

  For a while, he was lost in the joys of satisfying his cravings, even though his arousal wouldn’t let him forget the other pleasures in life he still needed to satisfy. But when he finally recognized that he was far past the point of full, he pushed back his plate and leaned back in his chair.

  Lord Randall immediately spoke. “Was everything to your satisfaction?”

  “You outdid yourself,” Gannon said, for once actually meaning it. “And I prefer dining here to the other room.”

  “But I believe it was you who preferred the privacy of the smaller dining room to the great hall. Something about not wishing to dine in the company of my soldiers…”

  Leave it to Randall to ruin his good mood. “Well, tonight was exceptional. Did you have a different cook?”

  A dangerous look flashed across his soon-to-be father-in-law’s face before it turned carefully blank. “No, but the supplies we’ve been waiting on for some time finally arrived.” Accusation gave a sharpness to his words. “Since you’ve come to the Prairie Lands all our supplies have been delayed, or simply never arrived.”

  Gannon was suddenly on-guard. “Why is that?”

  Randall glanced at the rest of the chairs at their table, which had been left empty in a show of support to Kadelynn’s cousins, before lowering his voice and responding. “All I know is that it was by order of the king.”

  “And why didn’t you mention this before?”

  Randall scratched at his newly growing beard. “I wanted to look into it a bit myself first.”

  “Yourself?” Anger made the word an accusation. “We’re supposed to be working together. Trusting each other. How can I do that if you keep secrets?”

  “And when did you plan to tell me the king was coming?” the question was no louder than a whisper.

  “How do you know about that?”

  Randall shrugged. “When you changed your mind about going after Kadelynn, I knew something significant had occurred. My spies confirmed my suspicions.” Then, he met Gannon’s eyes. “What does this mean for us?”

  Us, there is no us. “It means nothing. The boy likely comes to see what booze and women the Prairie Lands can offer him. Nothing more.”

  “I hope you’re right. Because now that I have all the facts, I’m… concerned. Until just a few days ago I couldn’t determine the root of our supply issues. But once I linked it to a direct order from the king, my worry grew. Now that our communication has been severed, which I’ve also determined comes from the king’s orders. Well,” the lines on Randall’s forehead deepened as he spoke, “the only logical conclusion I can draw is that he knows of our plans.”

  Gannon bit down the harsh words bubbling to explode from his throat and took a long drink from his wine before daring to speak. “Let me handle the boy. You find your daughter.”

  Randall leaned closer to Gannon, invading his personal space. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not marrying my daughter to you because you’ll be king one day. I’m doing so because I think out of all the men in this realm and Eshire, she’ll be safest with you.”

  “And do you doubt that now?”

  Randall tapped his fingers on the table a few times before answering. “This new development with the king makes me wonder if I’ve chosen wrong for her. You call him a boy, but he’s our king. We can’t hesitate to do everything in our power to stop him should he show any sign of knowing our plans.”

  Gannon ground his teeth. “Do not doubt it.”

  Obviously satisfied, his father-in-law settled back in his chair. “And as far as my daughter is concerned, I’ve sent my best men to recover her. They’ve already picked up their trail.”

  “Oh yes, the blind sergeant.” But then Gannon’s mind caught up with Randall’s words. “You said they. So she isn’t alone?”

  Randall looked away when he answered, but worry leaked into his words. “No. The Seer is definitely with her.”

  Gannon pretended not to observe the old man as he sat rigidly in his chair, but there was no hiding the signs of worry as he rubbed at his beard, his food forgotten. Another wave of concern raced through Gannon. Where is my Lady Kadelynn? And is she okay?

  It rattled him more than he thought possible to see true concern from Randall, and a sense of helplessness raced through him. If it wasn’t for his cousin, Gannon would no doubt already have brought her safely back home. “I wish I could go after her, damn it.”

  “You really do, don’t you?” Randall’s eyebrows rose.

  Gannon instantly regretted letting his true emotions show. “Of course.”

  Randall took a bite of his meat pie and chewed slowly. “My men have found their trail. It shouldn’t be more than a day before they have Kadelynn safely in their custody.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  His father-in-law’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Information is a powerful thing. Surely you know that.”

  Gannon did, of course, but he hadn’t realized the old man did as well. Since they signed the marriage contract, Randall had stopped playing the part of the groveling lord, instead, revealing himself to be a cunning man who liked his secrets. But Gannon had his own secrets. And his own ways of getting information.

  “And what will you do with the Seer once he’s been caught?”

  Randall laughed. “How much do you know about Seers?”

  “Enough.” He hated how superior the old man sounded, even though Gannon really knew next to nothing.

  “Well, let me educate you a bit.” Lord Randall picked up his fork and speared a ripe strawberry. “When we first came here, the Cahula took every opportunity to attack us, but the Seers, as far as I’m aware, have never attacked without provocation.” He put the strawberry in his mouth, chewing slowly, before swallowing and continuing. “But when forced into a battle, they can cause a great deal of pain without even touching their opponents.”

  “Then how do you kill
one?”

  Randall put down his fork. “Everything can be killed, but I’ve never heard of someone actually killing one before.”

  His response annoyed Gannon. “So basically we plan to send men at him until one manages to be successful?”

  A smile twitched the corner of the old man’s mouth. “This man took my only daughter. His magic prevents me from making his death slow, but he’ll receive a coward’s death. Once Kadelynn is safe, one of my men has been instructed to follow the bastard and kill him in his sleep.”

  Gannon wanted the satisfaction of watching the man hang. But as long as his betrothed was returned unharmed, a quick death would have to be enough.

  The rest of the evening dragged on just as Gannon has expected. The men and women grew increasingly more intoxicated, loud, and obnoxious. Many of the lords tried to force their daughters or wives to dance with Gannon, but he refused to take one of the trembling fools into his arms. Instead, he tried to find any evidence of who’d told the king of his plans but eventually had to accept that he’d learn nothing new that night.

  But he didn’t want to go back to his room yet.

  He ghosted through the quiet halls of the keep until he came across a door open to the chill and wind of the night. It led out to the gardens, and as he passed it, the smell of unshed rain and greenery filled his nose. The scent beckoned to him to escape the confines of the human-infested building to ease his mind beneath the star flung sky, so he did.

  The cold felt strangely good against his overly warm skin. But just as the muscles in his shoulders began to unclench, the sound of a baby wailing split the quiet night’s peace.

  Out of instinct, he followed the sound. Because as much as he hated Finnegan, he’d been right, Gannon had a soft spot for children. He’d built a large orphanage in his city nearly ten years before, inviting the women of the Sisterhood of Inric to care for the children. The darkly veiled women, who’d given up husbands, children, and their own tongues to study in the lands of the gods, before returning to serve the people of Eshire, were the perfect caretakers. If they were bothered by Gannon’s appearance, he could never tell, and they cared for the many children with gentle hands.

  The wind swirled around him as he wandered down the darkened path, lit only by the intermittent light from the moon as it fought to peer past the heavy cloak of dark clouds. When he got closer, he heard the distinct sound of a woman’s voice. Only then did he consider that he might very well be walking straight into a trap.

  He touched his side, only to realize he carried neither his sword nor his dagger. With cautious footsteps, he left the path, winding through the wild garden, drawing ever closer to the woman and child. Peeking behind a tree, he spotted them just off the path ahead of him.

  It took him a moment to recognize Lady Finnegan. She sat hunched over, seated on a long bench, just off the path. A dark cloak had been thrown over her shouldersnbut pulled open in front to reveal her white chemise. In her arms, her child struggled against her exposed breast.

  “Take it please,” she begged the child, sobbing. “I’m your mother, not her.” But for all her tears, the child thrashed, turning its head and letting out loud screams of protest.

  Gannon stood frozen in place. He’d often seen the Sisters guiding new mothers in the art of nursing their young babes. A string of suggestions ran through his head, suggestions he knew he’d never voice. Still, pity uncurled inside of him, both for the crying mother and child. This was not the way it was supposed to be.

  And yet, neither of them were his responsibility.

  He shifted backwards, preparing to leave.

  She looked up.

  Their eyes met.

  Perhaps he’d made a sound. But regardless, it forced him to approach her, least she think he was some sort of deviant.

  “Good evening, Lady Finnegan ,” he greeted, bowing as he stopped not far from her.

  He expected many things from the tiny woman, to cover up her exposed breast, to trip over herself to escape him, but nothing could have prepared him for her reaction.

  She cried harder, putting her forehead in the palm of her hand. “I thought this time would be different. He should want his mother, not his nursemaid.” Her words tumbled out, high-pitched and desperate. “His father doesn’t want me to… says it is the maid’s job, but my mother said this one might actually love me if I can only. I. Should. Be. Able. To---“

  The wails of the child still curled in her lap melded with her own unhappy sounds.

  “May I?” he asked, reaching for the child. To his surprise, she let him scoop the child off her lap. In movements he’d long perfected, he began his swinging walk, back and forth through the knee-high grass. “Shhh, Shhh,” he murmured, as the child slowly calmed against his shoulder.

  When the only sounds were the wind rushing through the leaves, and the baby and mother’s slow breathing, Lady Finnegan spoke, “how did you learn to do that?”

  “The Sisters,” Gannon explained, “I often help them when new mothers come looking for guidance.”

  Lady Finnegan looked down at her shoe as it dug in the damp earth. “I wish I had someone to guide me. Cecil says I’m to be his lady and give him children, that raising them should be left to their nursemaids, but I don’t want…” She shuddered, then pulled her gown back over her breast, and tugged her cloak further over her shoulders. “I’m just so alone, and I’m their mother, they should want me.”

  Gannon took pity on her. “If you want to nurse him, it can’t just be on occasion. You won’t make enough, and he’ll look for your maid instead of you when he’s hungry. Nursing and not getting milk will just frustrate him.”

  They spoke for a while longer, and he forgot the rest of the world in her innocent questions. Before long, the baby stirred in his arms, and he helped instruct her on how to encourage the child to nurse. A short time later, the infant suckled happily at her breast, and contentment cast a softness to her sharp features.

  “This is wonderful,” she whispered. “If only I can convince his father to let me.”

  Thoughts of Lord Finnegan brought reality slamming back into him. He ran a hand through his hair and took a step away from her. “I really must be getting to bed.”

  She nodded, focused on the suckling child.

  He turned to walk away, but her voice stopped him.

  “I didn’t realize you were so… thank you.” A breathlessness laced her words, replaced by a seriousness. “Be careful Lord Cyrus. Not many men and women can be trusted. Especially women.”

  Giving a quick bow, he left her in the gardens, pondering her words all the way up the stairs and to his room. Inside, the intensity of the fireplace’s heat overwhelmed him, and he threw open the shutters to let in some of the chill of the night. Sliding back into his lumpy chair, he couldn’t help but wonder if Lady Finnegan referenced her knowledge of Kadelynn, or if she was warning him of something more sinister. But as the night wore on, he put her strange words out of his mind, focusing instead on more pressing matters: the man he must kill.

  It’s unfortunate, but it must be done.

  Before it’s too late.

  7

  Acker

  Kadelynn stopped her horse beside Acker’s mount, breathing hard. And he watched her, knowing what was about to come, and knowing he couldn’t stop her, no matter how much he might wish he could.

  Dropping her reigns, she rubbed at her bare arms, obviously trying to warm them against the day’s chill after a long night of rain. She’d said the night had been particularly cold, but his Wipenhol had kept him warm. “These trees are incredible.”

  He kneaded his forehead for the thousandth time that day. “Do you have to talk so damned loud?”

  Every word she spoke pounded through his head. But no matter how much he begged and threatened, she kept right on talking. Everything in the Prairie Lands seemed to fascinate her. Everything.

  But her wonder at the sight of the Holders, he understood… somewhat. Wincin
g up at them, a familiar wave of awe struck him just for a moment before he closed his eyes against the brightness of the afternoon. The massive trees were the size of hills, which in itself amazed him. But their shape and coloring separated them even more so from a typical tree.

  True darkness. That was the only thing he could compare their branches and trunks to, as they curved up into the sky and then curled back to skirt the earth with their sharp claws. They were the kind of black only found in a cave deep in the earth, without a single light source. Not only that, but they were oily and smooth too, like they’d drip away if splashed by water.

  And there was a uniformity to both their shape and placement that spoke of something crafted by man. But the curtains of grey leaves falling over them like a tall woman’s dress were completely natural, something unique to the Holders. Asher knew these particular ones were planted and cared for by the Cahula, explaining the weaving paths through the mountainous trees.

  Kadelynn’s shrill voice cut through his thoughts. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you tell me about these trees, I’ll stop talking. If not, I know a few songs you might enjoy hearing, bellowed at the top of my lungs.”

  He cringed, opening his eyes slowly. “Fine,” he grated out, forcing the next words past his lips. “These trees hold more magic than most. The Cahula consider them sacred.”

  “Why?”

  He almost asked her what she wanted him to explain, but didn’t waste the energy. “The trees just naturally do that. They’re sacred because the Cahula use them to store magic.”

  Gremly rode on, no doubt sensing Acker’s desire to be finished with the conversation. His mount liked riding and sensed Acker’s thoughts in a way no horse could. Something he was always grateful for. It spared him a lot of annoying moments, like this one with Kadelynn.

  The chilly day grew downright cold beneath the shadows of the trees, so he and Kadelynn both donned their cloaks. Even so, goosebumps continued to race along his skin every time the wind swept through the trees, lifting the grey veils of leaves into eerily lifelike ghosts.