by Ava Sinclair
“Lyla, the witches have foretold a mate for the Lords of Za’vol. Come next Claiming Day, there will be a new Fire Bride, and you can help introduce her to the mysteries.”
“There are indeed many mysteries,” Lyla says. She smiles sweetly. “And did you spend the day in the company of my mates, Lord Jayx? Tythos is so vague with his description of what the lords do while ladies make talk. I believe he thinks I merely humor him by asking, when my interest is genuine.”
Lyla’s tone is light, but I know her mind. She’s constantly seeking, as our oracle – Olin the Wise – warned us she’d do. My eyes meet Jayx’s. A glance between Drakoryans can speak as loudly as words, and he instantly knows what must be done.
“We flew,” Jayx says, which is not a total lie, for we did spend time in the air following exercises. “I’d forgotten how much land the Lords of Fra’hir hold. I was pleased to see the expansion of your vineyards. We shall have to barter for grapes, come the harvest, for even the cellars here could not hold so much wine.” It’s an artful deflection that he takes a step further by changing the subject. “And how do you find life here, Lady Lyla of Fra’hir?”
“Overwhelming, but pleasant enough.”
“We plan to overwhelm her more, come time to breed.” I put a hand on her belly, staking my claim.
“No doubt such a fine woman will bear you strong young,” Jayx says. “Perhaps, if the gods will, you’ll be one of those lucky houses that gets more than one breeding out of you mate.”
I feel Lyla tense, and she moves my hand away from her belly. Fortunately, Jayx has glanced away and does not see this.
“To see us with a woman able to go two breedings would have made my mother proud,” I tell her. “Our father’s brothers died in infancy. There was no one to share his mate. She wanted to give him five sons, but it was not to be.”
“I know,” Lyla picks up her goblet. “She died trying to give her mate what he wanted.” Her voice is tight and when Enid suddenly calls to Lyla, I am grateful. She’s praising one of the desserts that’s been bought out — a pear and custard pie. Lyla is forcing a smile, and I wish she’d take as much pleasure in domestic achievements as she does in gleaning information on matters that are of no use to her.
As the evening wears on, my brothers and I turn our collective attentions more to Lyla — our way of signaling that the feast is coming to an end. She will leave with the one she chooses, and I still hope it will be me. My brothers and I exchange glances when she lays a hand on my arm and smiles, and although we have limited the wine at tonight’s feast, Zelki has obviously had enough to loosen his tongue.
“It’s no wonder she goes with you, Tythos,” he says. “You’ve been hoarding her all evening.”
Beside me, Lyla tenses. “You are wrong, Zelki. I am not a possession to be hoarded, and I go to no lord’s bedchamber but of my own free will.”
I realize then that some of our guests have overheard. Enid looks shocked; the other lords exchange stunned glances at her boldness. Syrene simply smiles.
I decide to rise before things can escalate. My brothers stand as well, and bid good evening to our guests, who will soon seek their own beds. Tonight, I will share mine with Lyla.
Chapter 5
LYLA
Tythos is the quietest of the lords, but he’s unusually taciturn as we make our way to his bedchamber. Once we are behind closed doors, he turns to me. I expect his first words to convey what his eyes have been saying all night. But as my mates are wont to do, Tythos surprises me.
“You embarrassed Zelki, Lyla.”
I’m taken aback. His tone is stern and disapproving.
“Did I?” I’m stunned and hurt that he failed to notice how his brother’s comment affected me.
“You’re not a stupid woman. You know you did. You rebuked him in front of the other lords.”
“Zelki…” I begin.
“…is your lord, Lyla.” Tythos stops my defense in its tracks. “We are all your lords. And should you take issue with any of us, it should be done behind closed doors.”
“Yes. You’re my lords.” I scoff at him. “And I’m what? Your broodmare? Your possession.” Silence stands between us like a wall. “Perhaps, Tythos, we should couple outside tonight. You could turn into a beast and fuck me as the thoughtless creature you are.”
“Lyla…” Now he realizes how angry he’s made me. But when he walks over, I turn my back to him.
He sighs heavily and walks over to the bed, sitting down on the edge.
“I’m sorry, Lyla. Don’t think that my scolding you means I excuse Zelki’s boorishness. Would it make you feel better to know that because of his behavior, he will now be denied something he wants?”
“What?” I ask. When he doesn’t answer, I frown.
“He wants to be a regiment leader,” Tythos says. “But he proved tonight he can’t handle the authority of being a mate. He can hardly be a leader of men. I move to the bed and take his face in my hands. “How is it that the least talkative of my mates is the quickest to say the wrong thing?”
Tythos looks up at me. “I don’t intend to hurt you, Lyla. But I will have order in this house. We all need to remember our places.”
“Our places…” I repeat his words back to him. What is my place, I suddenly wonder? In the confidence of my loving mates, or outside of it? Tythos doesn’t realize I saw him in the courtyard today; he’d likely assumed I was deep in the kitchens. I hate that he’s not been honest with me. I hate that our first words tonight were spoken in anger.
“Perhaps I should leave,” I say. My hand is on his cheek. His skin is warmer than usual, his color higher, and I can see the hint of gold in his eyes. When he reaches up to grab my hand, his grip is harder than usual.
“No.” His voice is strained. “Don’t go.”
I want to ask him what is wrong, but I don’t have to. I suspect Tythos’ intensity is tied to today’s activities, to his preparing for whatever danger they are keeping from me.
He considers himself and his brothers to be my masters, and perhaps they are. But we both know there are limits. I could walk away if I wish, refuse to bed him this night. It would anger him, but he would not force me. And I consider it, but the unspoken need in his eyes is so great I cannot deny him. I can, however, remind him of who I am.
I push him back on the bed, and this seems to surprise him. Wordlessly, I lift my skirt. I am bare underneath, and despite the tension between us, the sight of his cock tenting his skirt is already eliciting a response from me.
I climb onto the bed, onto him, and straddle his chest. I hike the hem of my gown up to my waist revealing my glistening pussy. I take his hand and guide it to the parted outer lips, and moan when his finger finds the nub of my clitoris.
“Do you remember the first time we fucked, Tythos?”
“How can I forget? It wasn’t so long ago. And even in a hundred years I shall remember it as if it were yesterday. I asked you if you wanted to ride the dragon.”
I smile. “Yes. And then you taught me how to ride your mighty cock.”
“There’s more than one way to ride a dragon, my lady.”
“Oh?” I arch my brow, curious.
“A truly skilled lady rides a dragon’s tongue.” He reaches out suddenly and lifts me up so I’m straddling his face. He has the advantage now, and my body shudders when his mouth latches onto my inner labia and he growls possessively, sending little reverberations through my core.
Tythos holds my hips tight in his grasp. His hot tongue stabs and probes and licks. The heat of it enhances the sensation. I shamelessly squirm and grind on his face, and with each fevered motion, my mate increases the intensity of his ministrations until I arch my back and scream my passion into the empty air.
My knees are weak when he lifts me from his face. He rises to his knees, pulling me with him. His mouth finds mine, probing it with a tongue flavored with my own essence. But when he puts his fingers in the neckline of my gown, I tear my
mouth away from his.
“No,” I breathe. “It’s my favorite gown.”
“Then I will be gentle, my lady. At least until I remove it.”
I can feel the arousal trickling down my thighs as he lifts the gown over my head. The very thing that frustrates me about Tythos also makes him a most effective lover. He is unabashedly dominant, and as soon as the dress is off he’s behind me, putting his hand under my chin and pulling my head back as he bites the side of my neck. I whimper as I feel his cock seeking entrance to my pussy.
The cocks of Drakoryan males are not like those of human men. They can change shape, texture, even split in two. Each of my mate takes me differently. Tonight, as Tythos pushes himself into my throbbing pussy, I can feel nodules rising along the length of his cock, each one pulsing independently, massaging my inner core. It’s especially intense where he’s able to focus the pressure on that spot high on the front wall of my pussy. I am squirming, the pleasure so good, almost too good. I can feel my climax building, the pressure of it so great that I fear when it breaks I’ll shatter, like glass. But when I come, I don’t break. I just reach back and wrap my hands around his neck. Tythos twists my nipples as the ripples of carnal ecstasy surge through me, each wave causing my body to spasm on his.
But he’s not finished. Tythos pulls out and sits, turning and impaling me as I straddle his lap, facing him. I moan as he undulates inside me, his cock moving in little waves alternating with rapid vibrations. I fall back, helpless in his grasp, giving him access once more to my breasts. He sucks the nipples into his hot mouth, worrying the hard peaks, his suckling keeping rhythmic cadence with my next two orgasms.
I’m spent, depleted, weak as a kitten in his mighty, muscular arms. His mouth is in my hair. He holds me gently, and in the candle’s glow, I watch our shadows, joined together, heaving, as we seek to slow our breathing.
It would be perfect, all so perfect, were it not for the disappointment from our earlier exchange. As Tythos slips from me, he pulls me onto the bed and strokes my hair. In the afterglow of sex, will he be more willing to talk before we couple again?
For long minutes, I lay in the dark, trying to think of how to raise the topic I know he doesn’t want to discuss. I decide the best tactic is simply to say what I want to say. I turn to him.
“I saw you today. I was with Beti on the archway. I saw you with Jayx. Why did you not tell me about it?”
I try to read his expression in the dim light, but Tythos gives nothing away.
“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”
“Beti tells me that the last time you trained her people was when the ShadowFell were coming.”
“Beti?” He spits my servant’s name derisively. “You rely on servants’ gossip?”
“Is it true?” I press, sitting up. “I have a right to know if…”
He sits up, too, taking hold of my arms. “Lyla. You have a right to a home, a right to the protection of your lords. Don’t you understand what a gift it is? To be free of worry, to know that no matter what’s out there—no matter what you think is out there—you will be safe? Isn’t that enough?”
“No.”
He searches my face, as if unable to accept this simple, honest answer.
“And why not?” Anger seeps into his voice. “It’s enough for the other brides! If you would just heed them instead of poking around in those dusty books…”
“I like those dusty books.” I glare at him.
“So, you do.” He sighs and rubs my arms, his voice cajoling. “But there are more important things, like being our mate, that should be the focus of your attention. You have a new life now, Lyla. Why do you seem to now resist what others have embraced?”
“A new life.” I shake my head. “Perhaps I resist because I miss my old one more than I realized. Yes, my house in the village was small, but we shared responsibilities there. We pulled together, whether it was cleaning ash from our floors or harvesting crops. Here, I endlessly delegate duties to an army of servants who are as incurious as most of the Fire Brides you’d have me emulate.” I pause. “Sometimes I feel like a servant myself.”
“You’re not a servant,” he says. “You are the lady of this house. Don’t forget that. And you’ll forget your family soon enough. When our sons come…”
“Tythos…” I turn away.
I can feel his gaze on my back as I lay down. I wait, wait for him to say something to make it better, wait for him to tell me that he should have been honest, that he understands, that he is sorry for never stopping to realize that without honesty, or freedom to see those I love, a castle is just another kind of prison.
I wait for him to reach for me, to take me again as he always does. But tonight, he does none of that. He just turns away in silence, and when he starts to snore, for the first time since coming here, I cry.
That night, I have a dream. I’m in a cave not unlike the one under Castle Fra’hir. The cave holds several pools like the healing pools here, only the walls of this cave are obsidian black, and there are women present. They are black-clad, timelessly beautiful, and I know before they even speak that they are strong and fierce.
“Seek,” they tell me. Then one lifts a globe of light. There’s a mist inside.
“Look,” one says, and I approach to stare into the orb. The mist clears and I hear myself scream at what I see.
Do I scream aloud? I think not, for when I sit up, gasping, Tythos remains asleep beside me. I lay back down, but it is hours before I’m able to peacefully close my eyes.
Chapter 6
IMRYTH
If there is an answer to this mystery, it’s in this room.
The castle library is a vast resource underrated by my brothers, who are prone to believe the solution to every problem can be found in fire and steel. But after what Zelki and I discovered today, I believe we need to arm ourselves with knowledge as well.
While Drorgros and Tythos were training the troops for the second day, Zelki and I flew to Kenrick, the outlying village we’d discovered burned during the Claiming Day feasts. Until now, strong storms and sheering winds had kept the Drakoryan from investigating the burned villages. But those have passed, and today we visited the first village burnt. We expected to find bodies inside charred houses, for if this were the ShadowFell, they would have attacked at night.
What we found was much more disturbing.
The thatched roofs were torn away, the humans pulled out and torn asunder. The village was burned after the slaughter, and while I was puzzling over that, Zelki alerted me to something that raised even more concerns.
“Men and boys.” Zelki had pointed to the remains of two partially burned bodies, one torn in half and another gruesomely disemboweled. “And a few old women.”
I’d examined another pile of bodies, confirming my brother’s observations. These had been men and boys, too, slashed with razor claws and left for dead by the dragon that laid down fire before leaving. As we’d walked through the village, I’d felt a sense of guilt that we’d not gotten here sooner. Kenrick had been a small, peaceful village. There had been no more than a dozen maidens, but we could have counted on their obedience come time for a sacrifice.
“One dragon,” I had noted, kneeling to trace a huge print by the village well. This is where it landed. I’d point to the left. “It went that way, from house to house, laying waste.” We’d followed the prints, inspecting each body we found.
“No dead maidens,” Zelki had looked over at me. “So, where are they?”
“I don’t know.” It was all I could say. It was clear that the dragon had burned the village to hide evidence of what he’d done. Only he didn’t burn the bodies thoroughly enough, or else we’d not have discovered that none of the remains belonged to maidens.
“We need to go to Branlock,” I’d suggested, “to see if it’s the same pattern.”
Zelki had looked at the sky and agreed. “But tomorrow. It grows late. We don’t know how many ShadowFell have
awakened. We don’t want to be caught out late and outnumbered.”
We’d returned home, and now I search the books looking for any ancient reference that could explain this change in our enemies’ tactics. Frustrated at being unable to find what I seek, I climb a wooden ladder to the top of a jammed shelf. And there it is, a black book with dragon runes etched into the spine. I pull it free, threatening to upset the precariously balanced books around it, then watch my step as I make my descent back to the floor.
I have to push stacks of musty scrolls aside to make room for the book and for a moment, I rest my hand on the cover, hesitant to open it. For years, I have kept the image of the ShadowFell locked from my mind, only recalling it for the Deepening. And even then, it had been difficult to summon the memory, and I’d only done it because without sharing our past with Lyla, we could not be fully bonded. As soon as it was over, I’d locked the memory away again.
I do not want to open this book, which chronicles the history of the ShadowFell. I do not want to look upon the images of these dark dragons. I am filled with shame and self-loathing as I stare at my unmoving hand. The ShadowFell are back, but how can I fight them again if I am too afraid to look upon the image?
I wish I were so brave as my brothers, but the truth is, I am afraid. I have always been afraid, even in my dragon form. I’m afraid of the enemy’s power, and even more afraid of my own, of what it does to me. In the last war, when we surrounded and burned our enemies alive, the screams sickened me, even though what we did was necessary to our own survival.
I have not shared this with my brothers. They rely on my bravery. I cannot share this with Lyla. She relies on my protection.