“It’s only a wall.”
“You disappoint me, little thief. I expected a brilliant mastermind capable of unraveling the greatest enchantments of the magical world. Yet I have a blind child before me, unable to see three feet beyond her face.”
“Child?” Some of the fear faded, and anger took its place. She spun on him but was once again overwhelmed by the sheer size of the beast crowding the corridor. Magic could be a fickle thing, and in the span of a few heartbeats her terror surged anew.
Rosalia shrank back.
The dragon scowled. “I’m not going to eat you.”
“Then close your mouth and stop showing me those teeth!”
He blinked and fell back a step, lowering his head to her eye level and staring at her. “I was attempting to smile.”
“You do it poorly.”
I’m arguing with a dragon. Nothing about the recent turn of events in her life could be any stranger than that. Dragging in a few breaths, she forced calm into her body. Her knees quaked a few moments more, and then the uncontrollable trembling ended.
When she’d found the entrance to the vault, she’d stumbled upon it, quite literally, by accident while searching the walls for hidden levers and buttons. Instead of examining the floor, she swept the lantern from the hook and turned it upside down. The liquid contents of the alchemical device sloshed about, and the spheres floated in the glowing substance.
She prodded the bottom of it, searching for a hidden contraption, a key, anything of use.
Finding none there, she carried it to the wall and squinted while prodding for invisible crevices and lines. With a monster breathing down her neck, her control over the second sight didn’t come so easily.
Then she found it. A discolored pattern on the wall at her chest height. When she raised her fingers to touch it, each digit sank through several inches of illusory wall until her hand disappeared to the wrist. Notches moved beneath her fingertips. The dragon shifted, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.
Rosalia paused. She shifted her eyes behind her, noticing the empty space. “It’s trapped isn’t it.”
“Astute observation.”
“What happens if I dial wrong?”
“I return the pieces of you to the aqueduct.”
She jerked her hand away from the wall. This time, the warmth of his laugh, heated and humid breath, washed over the back of her neck before he nudged her aside with a claw. The tips of them touched the wall, vanished through the illusion, and he made unseen gestures beneath it.
“Another time, I will teach you how to defeat this trick, but not now. I’ve been harsh, and this is no time to make demands of a weary woman.”
The ground responded, and steps lowered into a dark, torchlit abyss. He moved ahead of her down the stairs, pressing his long body against stone to fit, though he’d seemed far too large moments ago to wiggle into the narrow space. Rosalia followed him. Once she stepped off the bottom stair, they rose toward the ceiling again and concealed that there was ever an opening at all.
“Interesting...”
“I’m glad you approve,” the dragon rumbled. Genuine pleasure laced his voice without a hint of sarcasm. Undeniable pride shone in his enormous eyes.
They stood in a room within Xavier Bane’s underground lair, surrounded by vast riches. Power and magic hummed through the air, raising the fine hairs on her arms, although it wasn’t until she spun to face the dragon that she realized he was shrinking in size and the change in atmosphere was him.
As the scaled behemoth became tinier, he moved behind a screen and disappeared from sight. Seconds later, he emerged from the other side, clothed in loose trousers and pulling an oversized tunic over his head. More tattoos than she could count covered his masculine torso, each arcane glyph glowing golden in the warm candlelight amid scars that had transferred to his human flesh.
Xavier set his cool gaze on her and grinned.
All along, she’d thought Xavier commanded the dragon and kept it for a pet. Now she didn’t know which idea had been more outlandish—that a dangerously handsome mage could control a dragon, or that a dragon could become a frustrating but absolutely appealing man.
13
QUESTIONS AND NEEDS
XAVIER GESTURED TOWARD the open suite. “Make yourself at home and—”
One hundred and fifteen pounds of angry, hissing, and spitting young woman threw herself at him. Her hands reached him first, taking him by surprise.
He stumbled back a step too late. She had the speed of a wild cat and the form of a person who had been taught to swing a decent right hook. He took one fist to the cheek but caught the second. Before she could lay into him again, he secured her by both wrists and yanked her body close. Part of him expected her to resort to using her teeth since he’d denied her use of her primary weapons.
Hell, that would have been hot if she had.
“Have you lost your bloody mind?”
“You were the dragon all along? You chased me through your vault!”
“You stole from my hoard.”
The struggle renewed. He waited until she surrendered to his greater physical strength, slumping against him exhausted, frustrated, and even more disheveled than before. In addition to her hair hanging in a dark tangle around her face and clinging against her perspiring cheeks, she smelled of the jail.
It was not a kind scent, the odor of old bones, mold, and filthy stone on her skin.
He hated it. Hated them all for abusing her. For the bruise on her left cheek, her swollen nose, and the dried split on her lower lip. He rarely took pleasure in killing any human, but he hoped to the gods the guards he’d incinerated were the ones who’d put those injuries on her.
Deep down, he’d been terrified she would be subjected to unknown abuses while in the custody of the city watch. Several of her fellow thieves had already been executed in a variety of colorful ways. Some of their bodies still dangled from ropes in the square.
“If you’re finished testing the futility of fighting with me, I’ll lend you clean attire and show you to the bath.”
“Why are you doing this?”
He released her. “We can discuss that later.”
“To the void with that, we can discuss it now.” The words trembled out of her as she fell back a step, tears shining in her eyes. “Everyone I know is dead, and I should be joining them, but… but I’m here, underground in the very place that began this entire awful mess.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you rescue me?”
“As I said, we can discuss this in time once you’ve had a chance to recuperate from your ordeal. I’m not a cruel man, so don’t consider me as one. There’s nothing to fear while within my domain, nothing that can harm you, no one who can find you.”
“Fine.”
“If you want to clean up, follow me. We can discuss any other matters after more pressing needs have been met. Unless of course, you want to remain barefoot and clothed in a burlap sack.”
She nodded slowly, but the tears continued to shimmer against her long lashes. Xavier wanted to do whatever he could to banish that pain and restore a measure of the happiness he’d witnessed while she watched the singing clock in his store.
The moment Rosalia left his store, he’d pulled the clock to the work table and made the necessary adjustments, though he’d feared the worst—that he’d been an awful dinner partner-—when she didn’t return for it.
Had she not burglarized his shop days later, he’d planned to deliver it to the theater. The woman deserved to have it, and he’d liked the way her eyes lit with joy when the bird emerged to sing.
With her trailing behind him in silence, he led her deeper into the maze of subterranean chambers until they reached a private bedroom with its own bath in the most distant corner from the door. A few decades ago, his father had built the magical furnace and installed a network of pipes and plumbing designed to carry fresh water to the bathing rooms and kitchen. Over the years since Xa
vier came to Enimura, he’d improved on the outtake pipes.
She didn’t utter a word, even when he crouched beside the porcelain, clawfoot tub and fiddled with the knobs until a steaming jet of water spilled from the golden faucet.
A wooden screen with pressed rice paper between the frames of the partition provided all the privacy she needed. He left her there and ventured away, returning only once to toss a fresh towel and a few garments over the top of the screen.
Aside from the gentle lapping of water against porcelain, Rosalia remained silent. She also remained in the tub until long after her skin must have wrinkled and the water had cooled.
He let her be. The woman needed time to grieve and digest the serious changes in her life.
She emerged an hour later, huddled within the modest silk nightwear and velvet dressing gown he’d lent her, the latter secured with a plum sash around her slender waist. She looked small, broken by the ordeal, and less spirited than before.
Fuck, he’d prefer her to be pounding both her fists into his chest than looking like a shattered doll. Xavier swallowed back his anxiety. “I suppose you have questions now.”
Rosalia toyed with the edge of the robe and plucked the lace trimming its edge. “I do. Thank you for rescuing me, but why did you do it? Why save me when I stole from your hoard?”
“Because I need you.”
HE NEEDED HER?
Trapped underground with a dragon and nowhere else to go, Rosalia stared into the face of her rescuer and wondered what price he would take from her. What favor would he ask to settle the score and erase her debt?
“Did I mishear you?” Rosalia asked after a few heartbeats of uncomfortable silence passed.
“No. I need you.”
The intensity in his voice raised the fine hairs on her arms and nape. She shivered and glanced away first, breaking eye contact. “What for?”
“To take back the mirror.”
“King Gregarus has it now, and gods only know where he’s taken it.”
“Precisely. I’m a dragon and a clockwork mechanic. I’ve got two main skills. Breathing fire and inventing things. Neither of those is particularly good for theft. That’s your wheelhouse.” The corner of his mouth raised, and his voice lowered, husky. “And you owe me. You got us into this mess. Now I want you to get us out of it and help me find it before that fool causes irreparable harm.”
“It’s only a piece of glass.”
“No. That’s where you’re wrong. If it was only a piece of glass, do you think King Gregarus would have gone through so much trouble to have you acquire it? Would he have had everyone who came into contact with the bloody thing or you murdered? I imagine it’s only a matter of time before some guardsman comes knocking at my door since we were seen together in public, but he wouldn’t dare do to me what he did to Frederico.”
Quiet, Rosalia watched him, unable to make sense of the mystery. “I... I don’t know.”
“There’s plenty you don’t know.”
“If there’s so much I don’t know, why don’t you tell me some of it instead of leaving me in the dark?”
“Follow me, and I’ll explain everything.”
Xavier moved away. Walking in his footstep, she entered the next room and followed him down a narrow walkway. She’d encountered him for the first time in the same chamber, unaware of a dragon’s presence due to the sheer amount of wealth overflowing from the pits on each side. He must have been slumbering beneath it all.
Instead of heading straight ahead to the altar in the distance, he turned left and directed her into another room that resembled a gentleman’s study complete with a writing desk pushed against the wall flanked by two bookshelves.
The cozy chamber had all the comforts of a bedroom but no bed. Instead, piles of cushions occupied a corner of the floor and a magical pit filled with enchanted stones imitated a charcoal hearth. Silk rugs and ornate tapestries hung on the stone walls, and gilded sconces glowed with magical fire.
Unable to help herself, Rosalia drifted closer to touch a fixture fastened to the wall. Each room had its own theme and design, touched by the style of another kingdom. These were elvish. “This is beautiful,” she murmured.
“Thank you?”
Her eyes turned to him and took in his startled expression. Feeling churlish and unappreciative of his generosity, she cleared her throat and drifted to her host. He’d saved her from certain death and dismemberment, all because she’d taken the wrong job.
But if she hadn’t accepted the contract, one of the other Pearls would have taken it. Hadrian might have even undertaken the task himself, and she had doubts that he could have outrun a dragon. She shivered.
Would Xavier have eaten him?
“Are you warm?”
“Very. Thank you.”
“You’re shivering.”
“I’m reminded of how close I came to death or slavery.”
“They’re one and the same.”
Rosalia tucked her chin. “Yes.”
Xavier gestured to the short sofa beside his desk. She settled on it with her hands on her lap and examined her surroundings.
There were glass orbs floating above stone pedestals, crackling bolts of lightning arcing within them. Nearby, a row of candles each sported a different color flame. The room was rich with art and color, with beauty and elegance, teeming with magical design she didn’t comprehend though those flames called to her.
“Thank you.”
Xavier took the seat at his desk and angled the chair toward her. “You’re welcome.”
“You didn’t have to save me.”
“But I did, and as I said, I need you.”
“Regardless. Your generosity is beyond necessity, and I haven’t been gracious. I realize that now.”
“But it isn’t,” he disagreed. “You’re in need, and I have something to give. Contrary to whatever myth has painted of dragons, we’re not all greedy.” Appearing to realize the irony in his statement, he glanced toward the open doorway. Gold shone through the arch and shimmered beneath the torches.
“How did you move so much gold beneath this shop?”
“A combination of magic and actual labor. Much of it was… shipped to me from a prior hoard, but the rest has come over the past three years of operating in this city. I spend little, I travel infrequently, and I enjoy no company but my own.”
Until he met her. Guilt tugged Rosalia’s heart until she studied the cool stone beneath her feet. He’d given her slippers, but the soft velvet only cushioned her steps without providing any warmth. As she wrung her hands, she glanced up to find him watching her in return, the pen still against the stationary paper. “I—”
“Food may make the conversation we’re to have more palatable. Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
With the fear of imminent death behind her, Rosalia’s appetite had finally returned.
Xavier rose from his seat. “I’ll return shortly.”
“Where are you going?”
“You wouldn’t enjoy the food available in the hoard. The rest is in the cold box and larder upstairs. Feel free to have a look around.”
Rosalia tilted her head. “Aren’t you worried I’ll steal something.”
“And put it where?” His eyes dropped to the silk pajamas and dressing gown covering her. It clung to her curves in all the right places, concealing and revealing everything at once. “And if you do steal it, where are you going to go? The sewer again? And if you do reach it and escape into the city, what then? No one will take you in, and you’ll only perish in the desert.”
When his gaze raked over her, Xavier didn’t have a mere look. He devoured her with his eyes. Part of her wondered why a dragon owned such beautiful and feminine garments, but she feared the truth wouldn’t be as delicious as the mystery.
She wondered if there been a woman in his life at some point, preferring to think he’d had a lover at one point over believing he had a fondness for collecting women’s unde
rgarments.
Rosalia pondered that after he left. While he was gone, she racked her brain over his behavior during their meeting in the shop. He’d been friendly and kind to her, interested in her dancing, and even flirtatious, but she hadn’t picked up anything that implied he’d take her to bed until his blundering invitation to dinner.
And what an evening it had been, gazing into those beautiful eyes and becoming lost in a field of endless turquoise. Despite Adriano’s interest in her, she’d never felt truly desired until she was across a table from Xavier, wondering what the hell she’d done to earn the attention of a skilled sorcerer.
Xavier returned with a platter of diced cheese, sliced sausage, and a thick chunk of fluffy, moist bread that compressed like a sponge when she pressed it with a finger.
Then he set a bottle of wine down on the desk, popped the cork with his thumb—she’d never seen anyone do that before—and poured her a glass after a fine mist of fragrant air escaped from it.
Rosalia stuffed her face and ate until her belly approached the point of near bursting. Indecision divided her between setting the empty platter aside and licking the smear of honey that remained on it.
He glanced at her. “Would you like more?”
“No, thank you. I shouldn’t.”
He took the platter from her. A deft movement of his fingers vanished it in a puff of black smoke and a few golden sparks. “I understand that you have many questions, and I will answer each of them to the best of my knowledge. This lair is a safe place, protected by magic no common sorcerer could ever unravel.”
“I did it without being a sorcerer.”
“You’re different.”
“Why did you save me? Why do you need me?”
“I knew your mother.”
The floor dropped out from beneath her, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to believe him or call him a liar to his face. Aside from Hadrian, Lacherra, Adriano’s mother, and a handful of thieves in their company, she’d never spoke to anyone who knew her mother before. She swallowed, willing her throat to cooperate. “When did you meet her? My mother has been dead for twenty years. I was a child when she passed away.”
All That Glitters: a Fantasy Romance (Daughter of Fortune Book 1) Page 11