“Perhaps there are some forces over which you have no control,” Malik said.
“So it would appear. But it’s all been so fascinating to watch.” She knelt and dipped her fingers into the puddle of blood that surrounded Thalia. She brought them to her lips and tasted. “Are you certain that you love her, Dragon Lord? She would make such a delicious servant. After all, your brother’s tribute is just wandering around Faerie like little destructors. But you know what they say, children need a mother. And you could keep clumsy Bella here with you.”
“Of course I love her!” Malik roared. “Since the first time I laid eyes on her.”
Mab giggled. “Oh, how very dramatic. But I suppose you’ve played your part well.” She turned to Bella and smiled, beckoning her forward. “Come closer, Bella. Embrace me as you once did.”
Belladonna cast a sideways glance at Malik. His fists were tense at his side, and he looked ready to defend her. “My queen,” she whispered, allowing Mab to embrace her lovingly.
“You’ve done very well. So well that I’m obliged to allow you back to Faerie.”
“Oh, thank you, my lady!” Bella cried, kissing Mab’s hands and kneeling at her feet.
“But first things first,” she said. “We must bring Malik’s prize back from The Veil. If she wanders too far, she’ll be trapped there forever.”
Lost in shadow, Thalia wandered. Where she was, she couldn’t say, and she could feel the awareness of herself slipping through her fingers. The place seemed familiar. She could feel that she had been here so many times before, yet she could not even see the ground beneath her feet. Only sensation was there to guide her: the dewy grass between her toes, the cool breeze on her face and then her body. She was weightless and floated high above the world. Like she was pure energy oozing through this forest of night like will o’ wisp.
Up ahead she could see something glimmering in the moonlight. As she drew closer, the light grew until she was staring across a vast lake, its surface like unspoiled glass.
“Thalia!”
She looked up, hearing her name carried on the wind. The voice was so far away. Was it even still her name? She turned as it whispered again, this time pushing through her chest like an arrow. It took her breath, and she fell to her knees. “Who’s there?” she called. “Is it you, prince?”
Prince. She remembered dreaming of him. The dark prince with the fiery eyes and cheeks of ash and roses. He whispered against her ear. A strange tongue that she couldn’t understand, but it comforted her.
“You must come to me, Thalia.”
She turned away from the lake, toward the dark trees at her side. The lake frightened her, and her mind screamed to run away. She could sense a strange magic rippling over the water, calling. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“Do not fear.” When she opened her eyes, she saw him, his body a phantom that merged with the mist on the water. “Come. Come back to yourself. Your soul has wandered too far this time, little one.” And then he was near, reaching out. “Take my hand. Trust me.”
Thalia screamed awake, sitting up and gasping for air. The pain in her chest and back was excruciating, doubling her over. She couldn’t see. It was all too bright. “Just a little more, child.” Esa. The voice of her old guardian spoke to her, soothing her panic. As her eyes cleared, she could just make out her shape in the shadows. The woman was made of light as she knelt behind her. “Hold her, Malik! Don’t let go.” Once more that suckling agony deep in her chest and then a white-hot burning. She struggled, screaming again and begging to run. To die. But he held her. The dark prince. She could smell him, feel him. It was the only thing holding her to this world as the poisonous death borne of Tristan’s dagger was drawn from her body.
Then it was over.
Thalia lay there for what seemed like ages, cradled in the arms of her lover. Malik. The Dragon Lord. Dragon king. Yes, she remembered him now. The dark prince of her dreams. “Malik,” she whispered, finding the strength to raise her head. “Is it really you?”
He nodded, his eyes glistening with the tears he kept at bay. “Of course it’s me, silly mouse. You didn’t think I was going to go through all this only to lose you to The Veil?” He pushed her hair back from her brow, kissing her forehead and cheeks over and over until both were laughing.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The day of the coronation of King Malik of Osghast was perhaps the most beautiful day that anyone could remember. The skies were a clear blue without a single cloud to obscure the golden light of the sun smiling down. The air was warm with a slight breeze to barely rustle the colors and bunting over the heads of the onlookers gathered in the courtyards at Ellythin. It seemed that Mother Nature herself was laying down her blessing on the kingdom of Osghast. The trees that lined the avenue all the way to Thane had burst into full bloom, seemingly overnight. The hills and mountains surrounding were almost unusually green. The birds, once frightened and kept away by the Wyrm of Gwynfir, had finally returned and gifted the world with their song once more. It was an absolutely perfect morning. The only possible rival to such a day would have been the one before when Malik and his queen, Thalia Baignard of Tarkin, had been joined in matrimony.
The ministers of every town in Osghast were in attendance as a symbol of their allegiance to the new king. Even Grafton and his minions from Isling had come. Royal courts from every realm on the continent were there as an offering of peace between the nations. And of course the Fae Queen herself, her servant Belladonna, and all of her consorts were there to pass their blessing and heal ancient wounds. It was to be the dawn of a new age of prosperity and rebirth.
Belladonna stood with the fairy court to one side and Balan at her other, wringing his hands. “But my lady, they should have been here by now! Should we not go up and find them?”
“I’ll wager the honeymooning is still underway,” Silas, the new captain of the royal guard, chuckled, pointing toward the tower overhead. “Perhaps the coronation ceremony should have come first.”
“Well, this is completely unacceptable,” Balan fretted. “Someone will have to educate the king in the ways of royal etiquette.”
Bella shook her head, a thin-lipped smile betraying her annoyance. “I can assure you, sir. Malik will arrive in his own time. No one’s going to take the crown away before he gets here.”
“As the head of the royal household, I am charged…”
“Hush, Balan! Before I scar your other cheek!” she snapped. “You worry entirely too much.”
Thalia stood naked, save for a thin chemise, and stared down at the courtyard from the royal bedchamber. “I think the entire continent is down there,” she said, peering through the curtain.
“Careful, Mouse. Someone might see you.”
“And what if they do?” Thalia replied haughtily. “They should count themselves blessed to look upon the unblemished and very satisfied flesh of their queen.”
Malik sidled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her into his chest. “But then I’d have to pull their eyes out, one by one,” he growled, pulling the cuff of her ear between his teeth and nibbling.
She giggled. “You mustn’t be so violent, my lord. In an hour’s time, you shall be King Malik, the mild and just sovereign of Osghast. Not the fearsome Wyrm of Gwynfir.”
His hands slid over her belly, feeling its gentle curve before straying to her bosom. “I don’t think I’ll ever be mild, Thalia.” She turned to face him, arching her neck until his mouth was against hers. His tongue swept along the seam between her lips until she granted him entrance. He pulled her tightly against him, deepening their kiss with obvious intent.
“And I’d never want you to be,” she said, breaking their kiss. “Come on, then. Balan looks as if he’s about to burst something.” She pointed toward the tall man that paced back and forth shaking his head.
“He always looks like that,” Malik grumbled, crossing to the wardrobe.
Thalia sat down at the vani
ty, brushing her hair until it shone like summer cornsilk. She watched as Malik pulled his boots on, fascinated by the way his muscles moved beneath the skin. Such magic his body could perform. Just the thought of it made her head light and her mouth water. She looked away quickly, remembering that everyone waited for them.
“Malik?”
“Hmm?” he hummed, pulling a tunic over his head.
“It’s been three months… since the battle. And you haven’t changed.”
“No. I haven’t,” he replied.
Her eyes lit on the large trunk under the wardrobe. He’d put away his dragon armor and locked it away tight. “Do you think… I mean… can you?”
“Mab says that if ever the peace in Osghast is threatened, that I will feel the burning under my skin, and I’ll become the Dragon Lord once more.” He said this all with a dramatic lilt to his voice that made Thalia giggle. “But I wouldn’t hold out much hope.”
“Oh.”
“Why? Do you miss him?”
“Well… I don’t know if miss is the right word,” she stammered, rising from her stool and going to him. “Perhaps I enjoy his… aggressive nature.”
Malik growled and wrapped his arms around her waist, boldly squeezing her buttocks as he pressed her body to his. “Perhaps he’s still there, lurking beneath the skin. Just waiting for the perfect opportunity to devour you completely.”
She stretched up into his kiss, tasting the ash and spice on his lips. “I hope so, my lord. I certainly hope so.”
THE END
About the Author
Alexandra Christian is an author of mostly romance with a speculative slant. Her love of Stephen King and sweet tea has flavored her fiction with a Southern Gothic sensibility that reeks of Spanish moss and deep-fried eccentricity. Her guiding principle as a romance novelist has always been to write romantic adventures for people who think they hate romances. After all, love itself is life’s greatest adventure.
A self-proclaimed “Southern Belle from Hell,” Lexx is a native South Carolinian who lives with an epileptic wiener dog and her husband, author Tally Johnson. Her long-term aspirations are to one day be a best-selling authoress and part-time pinup girl. She’s also a member of Romance Writers of America. Questions, comments and complaints are most welcome at her website:
http://lexxxchristian.wixsite.com/alexandrachristian
Also by Alexandra Christian
Naked (Phoenix Rising 1)
Neo-Geisha (Phoenix Rising 2)
The Ghost & Dr. Watson (A Shadow Council Archives Novella)
Chasing the Dragon
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Copyright © 2015 by Alexandra Christian
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This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental. Except that bit about that guy. That’s totally a thing.
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