Madfall

by Grace Draven

  Magnus licked the bead of sweat trickling from her temple, savoring its saltiness. He held her in that position for long moments, one hand cupping her breast, the other buried beneath her skirts, his face pressed against her fragrant hair. He savored her stillness, the feel of her resting in his arms. Whatever four years of separation might have wrought between them, her desire for him had not lessened any more than his for her. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded thin to his ears. “I need to stand, Magnus. My legs are going numb.”

  Leida struggled to her feet, staggering for a moment before catching her balance again. Her skirts had fallen back into place, badly rumpled. He followed her, hitching up his trews and helping her pull her shirt back over her shoulders. His murmur of disappointment at seeing her breasts covered made her smile briefly. At some point her bodice had fallen to the ground, its broken strings hanging loosely from the eyelets.

  Magnus eyed it with some disgust. “Is it necessary for you to wear this?”

  She shook her head. “Not necessary but proper. I might draw attention otherwise.”

  He leered at her. “When was the last time you saw your reflection,

  Leida? You draw attention regardless of what you wear.” She flushed at his compliment, lowering her eyes. He found it amusing that she could, in turn, be a wanton in his arms one moment and a bashful maiden the next. He crooked a finger at her. “Come closer. Dragon magic is good for other things besides stealing gold and drowning ships.” He helped her shrug into the bodice, running his fingers along the laces until they stretched beneath his touch, elongating until they were full length strings. He left her to the lacings, having no patience for the strangeness of a woman’s garb.

  His shirt lay where he’d slung it earlier, and he dipped it into the stream, using it to cool off his heated skin. “Bathe quickly, Leida. We’ve lost time and will eat as we walk.” He didn’t bother to see if she obeyed his directions, the sound of splashing water letting him know she tended to her ablutions without his prompting. He did the same, lowering his trews once more and gasping as the icy stream water trickled over his bollocks and softened cock. The shirt felt good against his skin as he donned it, still wet with water. He’d dry off as they traveled.

  He finished bathing, straightened his trews, and dressed before shouldering the pack and harness once more. He watched from the corner of his eye as Leida picked at the tangles in her hair, admiring her profile, the delicate line of her jaw, the arch of her nose that made her features too strong to be classically beautiful. The tingling sensation in his thighs returned, a signal he was once more growing aroused despite having his cock sheathed to the hilt in her sweet body only moments earlier.

  “It will happen again, Leida,” he said, his tone abrupt. He wondered if she thought his statement one of warning or promise. “Tonight, when I must rest from flying, I will take you.”

  She continued to work at her hair, finally twisting it into a braid and tying off the end with his hair tie. Her face remained somber as she stared across the streambed to the line of trees on the other side, though he caught the hint of a smile hovering at her lips.

  Her words made him catch his breath. “Mayhap, I will take you.”

  Chapter Four

  They walked until sundown, only stopping twice when Leida had to attend her body’s demands. She kept a steady pace with Magnus, staying a little behind him as they navigated their way through the dense wood. They didn’t speak, for which she was glad. Her thoughts were in a tangled whirl, especially since the interlude by the stream. She wasn’t ready for conversation, even the most inconsequential small talk. The monotonous activity of placing one foot in front of the other and keeping Magnus’s broad back in sight served to calm her emotions, even if her feet ached by the time he called a brief halt. The sun had disappeared into the west, and the moon, still bright and nearly full, drifted low in the twilight sky.

  Magnus paused at the base of an ancient oak, its thick sheltering arms creating a canopy of shadows that swayed and shifted on the ground. Leida walked past him, sitting down with a graceless thump. Her pack created a cushion between her back and the tree’s rough bark, and she sighed with relief at being off her feet. It was with some irritation that she stared up at Magnus, noting he seemed none the worse for wear after the long trek. He gazed at her, amusement dancing in his slanted eyes. The pale light filtering through the branches made the silver in his dark hair glow, and carved shadowed hollows into his thin, haughty face.

  “You’re tired,” he said.

  She felt no compunction to deny it. “Very,” she admitted, “but I don’t want to stop too long. We’ve made good time today, yes?”

  He nodded. “Aye, we have, even though we had to walk.”

  Leida smiled, hearing the derision in his voice. “It is much more dignified to fly, true.”

  Magnus lowered his own pack, rummaging in it until he pulled out a colorful bundle she recognized as their food satchel. He didn’t look at her as he untied it. “Yes, it is. And much faster. You may call it pride, Leida. I prefer to think of it as efficiency. Unfortunately, we walk in the daylight. I have no wish to be shot down by some vainglorious farmhand with visions of adding ‘Dragonslayer’ to his family name. There aren’t many humans so understanding as yourself concerning the close proximity of a dragon.”

  The thought of such a thing happening to him made her stomach lurch, and she stared at the honey bread he gave her with little appetite. A memory surfaced, a fearful time when in her sixth year as his favorite, he’d limped into the caverns, snorting with pain. She and the other servants had been horrified to see two thick arrow shafts protruding from the broken scales on his right side. Between the skilled hands of an ancient wood sprite named Dagden, and Magnus’s own considerable magic, he was able to heal in less than a month. But that time was burned into her mind, of days when he’d laid his huge head in her lap, panting and suffering as Dagden cleaned the wound. She had sung to him in those moments, even as her voice cracked with fear and wavered off key, no longer the beguiling instrument that first lured him to her.

  “What dark thoughts plague you, Leida? If you worry for your child, we will fly longer, even into the dawn. It will be risky, but it will lessen our journey time.”

  A frisson of warmth suffused her. He may have taken the fair Sivatte as his favorite and still nursed a grudge toward Leida for stealing from him, but somewhere in that great dragon heart, he still cared for her. Her cheeks heated, and she was glad for the darkness. He also still desired her, if his lovemaking at the stream’s edge and the promise of more were any indications.

  “I’m eager to see Vala,” she said, picking apart the bread to chew on small pieces. “She is everything to me, and I miss her greatly. But she’s safe in caring hands.”

  There was no mistaking the downturn of his mouth as she spoke of her daughter, or the flinching quickly hidden. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him he was mistaken in thinking she’d lain with another who had gotten her with child. But he would learn soon enough. One look at Vala’s eyes, and he would know. And then what? Dragon males were fiercely protective of their offspring. Magnus had already incubated and raised a male and four female hatchlings to adulthood. His pride in them was obvious, even the male, Ariadoc, born with a twisted wing and unable to fly.

  But this child was human, sired by Magnus when he was in human guise. Leida had heard of such progeny, rare though they were. Most often they had been as welcome in the dragon community as the full bloods. They were long-lived, inheriting the powerful magic of dragonkind. She’d already seen hints of it in Vala, young as she was. What would Magnus think when he discovered Vala was his? What would he do? Few of the scenarios she imagined gave any comfort.

  She chewed slowly on her supper, accepting the flask of wine Magnus handed her with softly spoken thanks. He crouched next to her, watching the darkening sky. Moonlight danced across his features, and she thought him the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. The
wine was sweet on her tongue, soothing to her parched throat as she drank deeply.

  “Careful with that. You will be flat on your back if you imbibe Gersel’s spiced wine in such a fashion.” His vibrant green eyes, shrouded to shades of gray, glittered in the half light as she licked a stray drop from the corner of her mouth.

  Leida passed the flask back to him, already feeling euphoric from the wine’s effect. “Your warning comes too late, I think. I feel dizzy.” She leaned her head back against the tree, gazing upward at the white stars winking back at her from the clear spaces between the oak’s branches. A sigh and a chuckle drifted to her ears.

  “Too late, indeed. We’ll wait a bit before we fly. The effects are strong but pass swiftly enough, even in a human.”

  She turned her head, blinking slowly as her vision spun in an arc and finally caught up with the movement. Magnus appeared blurred around the edges as he dug once more into his pack, pulling out a pipe and small leather bag. Even in her inebriated state, it surprised her to see him with it. In all the years as his favorite, not once had she ever seen him partake of pipe smoking. He’d never been convinced of its virtues or its vice. “Were I meant to breathe smoke from my nose and mouth,” he’d told her once, disdain strong in his voice, “I would have been born a firedrake.” The sneering curl to his lip let her know exactly what he thought of firedrakes.

  Magnus must have felt her watching him as he packed the pipe bowl, for he turned his head, giving her a faintly amused look. “There are moments, few and far between, in which I will admit my haste in stating an opinion. This is a soothing ritual.”

  Leida laughed, her eyes widening as a hiccup followed the laughter. “You mean you admit when you’re wrong?”

  He arched a dark eyebrow at her, giving an audible sniff of disdain.

  “I am never wrong, only misunderstood.” The knowing humor in his eyes told her he made light of his sometimes overweening pride.

  She hiccupped again, smothering a giggle. “Forgive me,” she gasped, “I didn’t know the wine was so strong.”

  He waved away her apology, even as a small bright flame shimmered to life between his fingers, and he lit the tobacco in the pipe, blowing gently on it until it caught. Leida recognized the spell. It was a simple one he’d taught her in her first year of service to him. One she could no longer invoke with the silver-clad iron choker wrapped around her throat like some venomous serpent. She picked at the delicate links, suppressing the urge to try to claw it off her neck. The sweet scent of tobacco smoke teased her nostrils as Magnus drew on the pipe and watched her.

  “I won’t remove the choker, Leida. You’ll not use my own magic against me to hide yourself and run again. I’d prefer not to waste another four years searching for you.”

  Confusion welled in her, along with the small hope she’d held close and almost refused to acknowledge in case she was wrong. “Why would it matter now? You have your precious ring back. Why hunt me again?”

  Magnus drew long on the pipe, releasing the smoke through his nose and mouth in leisurely fashion. He gazed at her from the corner of his eye, a measuring look that made her breath hitch in her chest. “What makes you think this has anything to do with some innocuous trinket?”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. “Revenge is it? A way to draw a little blood for hurting your pride?”

  He snorted, his voice turning waspish. “Tell me, Leida, beyond the precautions I’ve taken to keep you close, what have I done to exact this revenge you speak of?” The look in his eyes dared her to blacken their earlier intimacy.

  Her throat closed up, clogged with tears that also blurred her vision. It took two tries to clear her voice and speak with some semblance of normalcy. “It isn’t what you’ve done. It’s what you will do.” Gods, but it would hurt to the depths of her being once they returned to his caverns, and she took her place as his lowest servant while he paraded his current favorite before her.

  Magnus blew out a rush of smoke, emptied the pipe bowl of its contents, and stamped out the still red coals with his boot. The pipe stem snapped in his fingers as he pinned her with a hard glare. “What I will do? What dark things do you believe me capable of, Leida? What revenge do you believe is appropriate for a lover who deserts her mate, steals from him, takes another lover, and bears his child?”

  He’d risen to stand over her, his face twisted with a snarling anger. It might have frightened her had she not grown so angry herself, spurred on by the temporary courage of the dragon wine. She rose to face him, resentment and rage bubbling out of her in a cleansing river.

  “Why can’t I take a lover? You’re a fine one to pass judgment on me! How do you think it felt when you courted the fair Sivatte before my very eyes?” She began to pace, hands on her hips. “I have my pride as well, Magnus, inferior human that I am. Did you really believe I’d wait until you escorted me to some far off city, spouting platitudes about the transitory affections of dragons?” She swatted his hand away as he reached for her and asked the question that had burned in her gut for four years. “How long did it take after I left for Sivatte to become a favorite?”

  Magnus’s stare was icy as he answered, his words clipped. “Three days.”

  Leida closed her eyes, the bravado of the previous moments seeping away, only to be replaced with a wrenching sadness. “Three days.” Her laughter sounded hollow to her ears. “I remember those days. I traveled with a family of fortune tellers along the base of the Riori Mountains and wondered if you missed me at all.” She cleared her throat again, wiping at the tears which managed to escape her lashes. “Obviously not. After all, what is a farmer’s daughter with a damaged voice when compared to an elfin maiden who sings down the gods?”

  She didn’t know what to expect from him then, mockery and scorn, surprise that she had been hurt by his actions, amusement at her jealousy, but nothing prepared her for the reaction she got.

  Her yelp of surprise echoed through the trees as Magnus reached out and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her until she curled her fists into his shirt and begged him to stop.

  He pushed her from him, his face white with fury. Chills raced across her back, and she flushed, confused by the deep disappointment, the insult in his eyes. “You hide your thoughts well, Leida of the Far Lands. In all the years you lived in my household and shared my bed, I never once suspected your regard of me was so low.” His voice was scathing, and she wondered how he managed to so neatly turn the tables on her, once more making her the accused. “And you name me pernicious.”

  She watched, struck speechless, as he dropped his hands as if she burned him, turning away, and stalking to where their gear lay. He gathered the broken pipe, tobacco pouch and flask, shoving them into his pack. When he turned back to face her, it was with a face devoid of any emotion. “It’s time to leave. We’ve a short walk to the Lomondari Cliffs. We’ll fly from there.”

  He didn’t bother to see if she followed him, and Leida scrambled to catch up, grappling with her pack as she tracked Magnus through the growing shadows amongst the trees. The wine still held a light grip on her, but one that weakened rapidly as Magnus promised. The euphoria it brought was long gone, leaving despair and bewilderment in its wake. He hadn’t denied Sivatte, but somehow he’d made her feel guilty, muddled, and she bore the uneasy sense that her actions of four years ago might well have been a colossal mistake.

  It would be nothing short of a miracle if he didn’t kill her before their journey’s end. Leida had tested his patience and control to the limit with her accusations, her insults that made him sound fickle, malicious even. Magnus might have thought she goaded him with the single-minded purpose of making him lose his temper if not for the stricken look in her eyes, the jealousy in her voice when she spoke of the elf woman, Sivatte.

  Wind rushed over his wings as he flew high over the dark forest, seeing it thin in the distance to farm and grazing land dotted with gently rolling hillocks. As always, the thrill of flight soothed
his troubled emotions, calmed him so he could think more clearly, work his way through the pits and traps of her words to discern the meaning behind them.

  If he didn’t believe she would make an escape, he’d work his greatest magic, transform Leida for a short time so that she could feel the tickle of low-flying clouds beneath her belly, the stretch of wings across on her back. He snorted, steam rising from his nostrils to flow behind him. The gods knew she could benefit from any pastime that might curb her impulsiveness. She was human, but her nature was as mercurial as any dragoness he’d ever encountered.

  Despite his anger with her, Magnus couldn’t help but preen when he transformed and saw her eyes light up, practically glowing as she viewed him in his true state, giant wings stretching out on either side of him, amber scales tipped with obsidian and emerald. He’d arched his neck, elongated nostrils flaring as she raised a hand, running it over his withers in a reverent caress. The scales there rose in reaction, sensitive to her lightest touch.

  “Do you remember how to ride?”

  Magnus could see his dragon voice startled her, its deep thrum powerful and echoing. Leida nodded and reached for the harness. He lowered his head to accept it, finding some small measure of amusement as she stilled, watching the flicker of his tongue near her ear as he tasted the air around her. She cleared her throat, her own voice carrying a teasing note overlaid with a measure of wariness.

  “You aren’t thinking of…”

  He rolled his eyes and finished her sentence for her. “Feasting on you? No, at least not as a dragon.” Even in the dark, he could see her blush at his allusion.

  “Come, we’re wasting moonlight. Strap the packs to the harness and climb on. We’ve some distance to cover before we rest again.”

  She nodded, quick to obey him, and soon they were soaring above the trees, skimming wisps of low-hanging clouds. Leida rode astride his neck, legs curled against his spine as she clutched the harness to maintain her seat.