Still, she looked around her small living space. Herbs hung over the sink, drying. Crystals absorbed cleansing light in the windowsill. Hand sewn pillows sat in the seats of her kitchen chairs, simple and cozy. Gwen had made a home for herself. Yet, the cards told her that her time here was over.
She swore under her breath. There was one more card waiting to be flipped. She tapped her finger on the green and gold design of the card back. Did she really want to see what else the universe had in store for her? She could easily swipe her hands over the mess and pack them all back into their box, never bothering to flip the last card. But, that wasn’t what allowed her to survive this long.
Her nails slipped beneath the last card. She hesitated, feeling her stomach sway from side to side. Closing her eyes, Gwen drew in a breath. She had to do this. She had to know.
The card depicted a shadowy monster with sharp teeth and an indefinite shape. Death looked back at her with its red eyes. Bile rose, sharp and burning, in her throat. She lurched from her seat, oblivious as her chair crashed to the floor.
Gwen made it to the bathroom just in time for her tea to come back up. She dry heaved into the toilet. Fear pulsed through her. She thought that she was above that. She thought that she’d gotten over the torment that he put her through.
It seemed that she was not as strong as she would have liked to think.
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Chapter Two
Cameron didn’t like having to leave his home. None of the dragons liked it. The system of mountain caves had been home to dragons long before Cameron ever saw the light of day, but he could barely imagine living in the damp compartments. Sure, it was now furnished like a modern abode, but that didn’t change what it was. A cave.
As he looked around, he could see many of them were taking it harder than he had. Owain grumbled and fussed about everything. Cameron could see that Owain’s voice was grating on his son’s patience so, Cameron placed himself between Owain and Drystan.
He was patient. He could block out Owain’s grumpy nature while Drystan tried to collect his thoughts. Their retreat to the secret homes was a tactical move, but Cameron knew they couldn’t live in secret for the rest of their days. The white dragons were in the city doing who knows what. It was only a matter of time before the white dragons moved in on Snowdonia and claimed it as their own. Drystan couldn’t let that happen. They fought for the land centuries ago for a reason.
“I don’t know how Elgar dealt with this for the last hundred years,” Owain grumbled as he watched the ceiling drip tiny droplets of water onto the stone floor.
“He did because he had to,” Cameron commented.
Owain nodded. “Poor bastard.”
Cameron’s jaw tightened. It was because of Elgar that they were limited to the Territory to begin with. It was because Owain couldn’t be bothered to stop his brother from setting the nearby city on fire that they were treated like monsters. Cameron closed his eyes and pushed the resentment back. He locked it in a box and chucked it towards the darkest part of his mind.
Feelings like resentment and hatred weren’t going to help them fix this situation. They weren’t going to make the human population suddenly see them in a new light. It was best that Cameron keep playing the role he’d been dealt. He was the mediator, the diffuser. It was his burden.
“Dad,” Drystan began. “Why don’t you go see if Wesley needs any help. He’s trying to open some old doors so we can spread out a little more. I’m sure you don’t want everyone living under your feet.”
Drystan watched the gray bearded dragon regard him for a long moment. Then, Owain nodded, and he set about finding his grandson with no argument. Once the old dragon left the room, Cameron could see Drystan’s shoulders visibly lift.
Once upon a time, Owain had been the leader of the red dragons. When Elgar committed his sin and Owain did nothing to stop him, Drystan shoved his father off the throne and took control. It was a smart move, benefitting the dragons as a whole, but Cameron wondered if Owain didn’t resent his son just a little. Drystan must know that he did as they could barely be in the same room without trying to kill one another.
“Cameron,” Drystan said, shaking Owain from his thoughts.
“What is it?”
“I have a mission for you. It requires your skill set.”
Before the Occurrence, Cameron worked in the city as a private detective. It involved a lot of tracking. Tracking lost shipments, lost wives, lost kids. It was a job that he’d enjoyed until he was forced to retreat to the Territory. Cameron never thought he’d be able to use those skill again for more than hunting deer.
“You have my attention.”
“I need you to find the Witch of Caernarfon.”
Cameron’s stomach hit the floor. “You’re kidding.” he laughed nervously.
“I am not. We need to add her strength to our forces if we’re going to survive this war the white dragons are trying to start. Dragon versus Dragon, we might have the forces to win, but with the Witch of Caernarfon on our side we will be a much stronger force.”
Last Cameron heard the Witch of Caernarfon had gone into hiding. That was after she and her ex, a dragon, leveled an entire town in their lover’s quarrel. Before that, the Witch had been famous for her fearful power. One that could turn men to ashes and enchant the minds of royals. To send Cameron to find her was nearly a death sentence.
“Track down the Witch and win her heart. If you can do that for us then we will be safe.”
Cameron swallowed past the lump in his throat. The idea of seducing a witch that was over a century and a half old made his stomach turn. It wasn’t that she was old, not that her age wasn’t a factor, but Cameron didn’t like being told to enter into a false relationship.
All around him, his fellow dragons were finding their true mates. A flicker of jealousy burned inside Cameron, one that he didn’t like paying any heed to. He could turn his head the other way when he saw the way his cousin looked at the human, Dakota. It was easier with his brother. Rhiannon and Gareth hadn’t come with them into the red dragons’ mountain hiding place.
Cameron’s lips pressed together. He was reluctant to argue with his leader, but, at the same time, he was not too fond of his leader’s plan. Surely, his mate was out there waiting for him. What if she were to show up while he was bound to the witch in their false relationship? What of their power force then?
He didn’t say any of these things while Drystan regarded him. All he could do was manage a barely perceptible nod while his heart revolted.
“Good. You will leave first thing in the morning. Find the Witch and convince her of your love.”
Clearly, that was all that Drystan would say on the subject as he turned his attention toward something else. That left Cameron standing, feeling as though the world shifted beneath his feet. Little by little, Cameron managed to make himself put one foot in front of the other and leave the room.
His feet led him to a door that opened into the wilds of Snowdonia. He sat himself on the edge of a rocky mountain cliff and dug his phone from his pocket. Signal was minimal, but it could still surf the web, albeit slowly. He had a mission and he could not ignore it, no matter how much he wanted to.
Cameron wondered how the witch might look as he searched the web for signs of her. She was a decade older than him, as far as he knew. Dragons aged slowly once they matured. Cameron had no idea how witches aged. He imagined a crooked old woman, stirring a black iron cauldron on her stove. It was not a pretty picture. It was not how he imagined spending his life.
It wasn’t fair that he was forced to woo an old witch while his fellow dragons woke up to the faces of their mates. Cameron wondered how his leader could ask him to do such a thing when he, himself, knew the love of a mate bond. Pulling in a shaky breath, Cameron shoved his feelings into that tightly locked box once more.
When he opened his eyes, the tree filled horizon greeted him. This was what
he was fighting for. Their home. It was the least Cameron could do for his family. He would find the witch. He would win her heart and her loyalty for his family.
Eventually, Cameron turned his attention back to the loading screen on his phone. He searched Wales for news of miracles. The Witch had been known to perform great feats of white magic, blessing and healing. If he could find an area that was experiencing a number of small miracles, he was sure that he could pinpoint the witch’s hiding place.
After a while, the gentle sounds of the Territory around Cameron quieted the rioting emotions in his heart and he was able to narrow down a location where he might find the witch. He tilted his head back and let the last rays of sunlight wash over his skin, leaving a trail of warmth across half his face.
***
The next morning, while the sun was hovering between night and dawn, Cameron packed what he needed. He forced his feet to move quickly, fighting the urge to stay where he was. This was his mission, he reminded himself. This was his chance to help his family. If it saved their home, it would be worth it.
“She’s going to be the death of you,” A familiar voice grumbled.
Cameron turned to find Owain standing in the cave hall. The old dragon had a grave look in his eyes. He stepped forward, a gnarled hand falling upon Cameron’s shoulder.
“If you can do what Drystan asks she will save us,” Owain said. “But when all is said and done she will learn that it is all a ruse, that the things you made her feel were untrue. When she realizes that you’ve lied she will eat you alive. The Witch of Caernarfon is not a force to be trifled with. Do not do as my son asks with nothing in your own heart. Try, for her sake as well as your own, to find some kind of emotion for the girl. She deserves at least that and we deserve not to face her wrath.”
Cameron didn’t know what to say. That was the most that Owain had spoken in a long time. And, it wasn’t half the complaint that he usually spit. Owain must have met the woman that Cameron was charged with tracking down. It almost sounded as though Owain regarded her in near fatherly manner. That was unusual for the old dragon, but perhaps, that was because Cameron was only used to seeing the scarred relationship between father and son.
“I’ll do what I have to,” Cameron said, his voice quiet and reserved. He’d come to terms with his fate. The witch would save them, but he already knew that she would be the one to destroy him.
Owain shook his head and grumbled something about following blindly. Cameron tucked away the words the old dragon had shared with him, knowing that it was something he should probably carry close to his heart if he was going to see this through. Their eyes met and Cameron nodded his goodbye. He wished there was something he could say to lighten the mood, to bring some sunshine to this dark cavern home.
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Chapter Three
The cards were still laid out on the table when Gwen woke. She felt her stomach revolt at the sight of them. Angrily, she swiped her hand over them and gathered the ominous cards back into their deck.
Outside, the sun streamed through her gauzy curtain and left the shadows of leafy vine-like designs on her floor. She should be getting ready for work, pinning her hair back and donning a sensible skirt so that she looked respectable behind the receptionist counter. Instead, Gwen set about making a cup of tea with the knowledge that she’d never be going back to that job simmering in the back of her mind.
It was time that she packed up and left this small town. She’d been aging gracefully, as people told her daily, for the past fifteen years in the town. The townsfolk were starting to notice that she did not look forty-five. She, in fact, didn’t look a day over thirty. That was the kind of thing that raised questions that stirred thoughts of malice and fright in people.
She didn’t hate the witch blood that burned in her veins, but she didn’t like having to uproot herself every fifteen years, either. The power she wielded was passed down from woman to woman in her family, settling brightest in her than anyone had seen in ages. It crackled between her dirty blonde waves and kept her body looking young even after a hundred and fifty-seven years.
The mug of lemon verbena tea was warm in her hand. Notes of herbs and citrus rose on the steam that curled around her nose. She turned and leaned her lower back against the counter, mentally cataloguing everything she needed to pack. Her eyes fell on the tarot cards that had been given to her a hundred years ago. As much as she wanted to hate them for the news they shared, she knew that the cards would be the first thing she would pack and the first thing that would be unpacked wherever she settled next.
An artist had painted them for her before his work became famous. The art nouveau designs boasted woman with swirling hair before celestial or floral backgrounds. Her mother always told her that the best and most reliable tarot deck would be one given to her as a gift. This one had served her well over the years, guiding her away from trouble if she listened. Too bad she didn’t listen when they warned her of her ex. A lot could have been avoided.
Where would she go next? North to Bangor? It was having an issue with the red dragons that roosted nearby in Snowdonia. The last thing she needed was more trouble with dragons, no matter the color of their scales. She could go south and visit Cardiff again. It had been, what? A handful of decades since she’d set foot in the big city. It must have changed quite a bit in the last few years. Or, she could find someplace small and wild to settle down again. She liked the smell of sea water and forest in the air, such a contrast to the busy courts that took up the years of her youth.
Gwen finished off her tea and donned a teal and green floral skirt that swished around her ankles. She would have to leave, but she wasn’t in the mood to pack. The news that the cards had shown her still weighed heavily on her shoulders. Instead, she would go out and treat herself to a pastry and perhaps a new novel to read on a train, because, sadly, the myth about witches and broomsticks were not true.
Hours later, Gwen found herself with a matcha white hot chocolate, a combination of something very old and a very new trend, in hand as she browsed titles of romance novels on the shop’s shelves. It was a guilty pleasure that she didn’t try very hard to hide. There were stacks of them all over her apartment, some that had worn spines that would be packed when she left and others that would stay as a treat for the next tenant. If they liked that kind of thing.
Gwen had given up on romance after her last, disastrous relationship. Dragons lived a long life, much like she seemed to have. No one could blame her for trying to love someone that would live as long as she would. She didn’t want to have to watch the person she loved grow old and wither away. But, she wasn’t prepared for her ex.
Pale green liquid sloshed over her hand. She looked down to find that her hand was trembling. Quickly, she snatched a book from the shelf and retreated to a small table. She wouldn’t think about the dragon. Instead, she would pull her cards from her purse and place them on the table for anyone brave enough to ask for a reading while she skimmed through the random romance novel she grabbed.
She was lost in the world of a sixteenth century horse breeder and his fallen princess when a stranger sat down opposite her. When she closed the book, she wasn’t prepared for the sight that sat across from her. His red hair was fiery and swept back from his smiling, pale gray eyes.
Gwen’s lips flapped for a moment, words unable to be found as she looked at this man. His smile alone sent her mind into a frenzy in which she lost all ability to use words.
“Could you read my cards?” the man asked as he touched the top of her deck to push it toward her.
Still unable to speak, Gwen nodded and set her romance novel aside. When she realized it lay cover up, showcasing a bare chested man with long, dark hair and a woman in a corset her face warmed. She was the Witch of Caernarfon. Why was she letting this man affect her the way he was? She shouldn’t be ashamed to be reading any book.
That was the reminder that she needed t
o straighten her spine and turn her chin up. She pulled the cards toward her, letting her magic flow through her fingers as she shuffled the worn cards. It flowed around the cards, rushing like water until she realized it felt a little more like something else.
Sunlight.
Her fingers warmed. She set the deck on the table and motioned for the man to cut the deck, trying hard not to meet his gray gaze. Were his eyes gray? Or were they a soft and gentle green? She caught herself studying his eyes and quickly looked away. He laughed gently and reached out with a long-fingered hand to cut the deck. His fingers were graceful as they gripped the edges of the cards. He restacked the cut cards and pushed them toward her.
“You’re awfully quiet for a fortune teller. Shouldn’t you be grilling me about my life so you know what to draw on when you lie to me?”
She couldn’t help herself. She lifted her narrowed gaze to glare at him. “You think the cards lie?” She challenged him.
“I didn’t say that the cards did. I said that fortune tellers do.”
She nodded. “Then it’s a good thing that I’m not a fortune teller. Close your lips and listen to what the cards have to tell you.”
She lifted three cards from the top of the deck he’d cut and laid them on the table that sat between her and the man. Her fingers began to tremble as she turned them over. The Tower. The Lovers. And Death. She jerked her hand away from the cards as if they’d burned her.
How could his draw mirror the one she’d done the night before? Had she not shuffled the deck properly? The magic in her hands had felt odd when she shuffled. Had it summoned her reading over again? That had to be the solution. She managed to read for herself and not for him.
That was her fault.
She swiped her hand over the card before he could say anything, and tucked them back into their deck. “That was a failure,” she admitted. “I’m very sorry about that.”
Fated Dragons Complete Series: Books 1 - 5 Page 21