The Dragon Mistress 3

by R. A. Steffan

  With a grimace, I shook my head, trying to dispel the ache gathering behind my left temple. “So then I thought, perhaps it’s merely the method by which my soul was wounded. Perhaps a dragon will not bond with someone whose spirit resides partly with the dead. But that doesn’t explain Frella. She is whole. Purer than any of us—probably by quite a stretch.”

  Leathery nostrils flared, snuffling at me again. This time, the gentle investigation was followed by a puff of smoky vapor, smelling of sulfur and hearthfires. I rested a hand on the beast’s muzzle, and her great eyes blinked slowly at me.

  “Bond with me,” I whispered. “I still need you. Without your help, I don’t know how we’ll save Frella. She doesn’t deserve—”

  My throat closed, as I lost the battle not to think about what might befall our northern goddess once she was within Oblisii’s grasp. I knew all too well what could be done to prisoners. What could be done to women, when they were helpless at men’s hands.

  Though perhaps that thought was facile. It wasn’t only women that faced such things. My thoughts turned to Nyx, and my eyes slipped closed. The dragon puffed out another cloud of smoke. Leathery wings flapped, blowing up a small storm amongst the dry grass. I opened my eyes in time to see her massive form lift into the air and fly away.

  Afterward, I sat there staring after her for long moments before hauling myself to my feet and trudging back toward the cave. Rayth’s dark eyes stopped me almost despite myself, and I braced for another exchange of pointed jabs.

  “Just before the soul-bond formed,” he said slowly, “I remember thinking that I was moments away from being killed in the midst of my own final, abject failure. I knew that we were about to die, and then there would be nothing to stop my father and brother sending troops to hunt the dragons down once and for all.”

  I blinked at him stupidly, taken by surprise at his words.

  “I’ve no idea why a dragon would care about my pathetic excuse for a legacy,” Rayth continued, “but perhaps my thoughts before it happened contain a clue, and I merely can’t see it. You should ask Eldris what he remembers about the moments before he formed the bond. Nyx, as well. Maybe it will help somehow.”

  I could only nod.

  * * *

  Outside, the sun had just disappeared behind the mountain crags, throwing shadows across the valley and bringing a nip to the air. Nyx was grudgingly awake—understandably resentful of our need to rouse him and ensure that he could be woken. Even so, he was making a game attempt at sipping more tea and broth, despite the fact that he was clearly in considerable pain.

  I’d taken the chance to pass on Rayth’s accounting of his thoughts immediately before he’d bonded with his dragon during the battle against the bandit mercenaries. Eldris and Nyx seemed interested by the revelation, though Eldris looked down and away when I asked what he remembered of his own bonding.

  “Nothing,” he said. “In fact, just about the last thing I remember from that day is the bandits pouring into the valley, and Frella shouting that there were more than thirty of them. I’m sorry.”

  I clasped his arm. “It’s not unexpected after a blow like the one you took. I’ll happily content myself with the fact that you’re still alive, Riss.”

  “I’ve already told you what happened with Lisha,” Nyx said. “The last thing I can remember thinking was that I couldn’t possibly let her die in that rock-fall.”

  I nodded at him. “And, honestly, that makes a lot more sense to me than what Rayth said. Lisha needed your help. I simply can’t see the common thread between that immediate need, and Rayth worrying about his legacy as he was about to die.”

  Eldris shifted on his haunches and huffed out a frustrated breath. “Damn it all, I just wish we could be doing something. I hate this sitting around. Makes me feel useless.”

  A sigh rose from my chest. “Why don’t you go outside and talk strategy with our fearless leader? He’s been plotting something all afternoon.”

  “While also lubricating the wheels with wine, I’m guessing?” Eldris asked in a dry tone.

  “But of course,” I answered. “Not that I don’t trust him with planning a mission, wine or no… yet I’d still feel better knowing that he wasn’t scheming something totally mad. I’ll get Nyx settled again once he’s done with his broth, and try to grab a few hours’ sleep before the ghosts rise to wake me.”

  Nyx leveled a sideways look in my direction—albeit one that still appeared a bit foggy around the edges. Eldris tipped his head in agreement and heaved himself upright.

  “Will do,” he said, clapping my shoulder companionably and heading toward the mouth of the cave. “I’ll be back before you have need of me later… no worries.”

  For once, though, there was something worrying me even more than my own potential descent into nightmarish madness. I waited until Eldris’ footsteps had faded and turned my full attention to Nyx, making note of his nearly imperceptible flinch as I did so.

  “All right, then,” I said matter-of-factly. “This is probably overdue—but now that we have some privacy, you need to tell me about him, Nyx.”

  “‘Him’?” Nyx echoed cautiously, as though he didn’t already know what I was talking about.

  “Your ghost from the past,” I clarified. “The way I see it, if I’m going to be on the receiving end of a punch to the face that was meant for this other man, I’ve earned the right to know who he was and what he did to you.”

  Nyx lifted his chin and set his cup aside very, very carefully. His hand was trembling. My eyes slid immediately to the cave entrance, half-expecting a green, scaly head to appear, with burning emerald eyes searching for an excuse to roast me again.

  “Don’t worry. I told her to stay outside,” Nyx said, correctly reading the direction of my thoughts. “I won’t let her hurt you.”

  “Thank you,” I told him. “So… about this man?”

  A veil had slipped across Nyx’s features as soon as I brought the subject up. He was still and silent for quite a long time. To all outward appearances, it seemed he would remain silent, but I felt that he was somehow battling with himself beneath the blank mask of his expression.

  “Daarvin,” he said eventually—the word a hoarse whisper.

  I nodded to show I was listening, content to wait him out now that the first chink had appeared in the bulwark. His eyes slid away, flaring first with dragon-green and then with his natural hazel.

  “You look like him,” Nyx continued, after another small epoch had passed. “Long, straight hair. Alyrion nose and cheekbones. Though he didn’t have the…” He trailed off, lifting a hand to point at his unruly forelock—indicating without words the unusual streak of white hair I’d been born with.

  “I wondered if it might be something like that,” I said. “Though that doesn’t really answer my question. Who was he, and what did he do to you?”

  Nyx still didn’t look up, his fingers moving to pick at a seam of the loose shirt he’d insisted we help him into after I’d bound his injured ribs.

  “He was… one of the lieutenants serving the warlord who kidnapped me from my village.”

  I nodded again, silently encouraging.

  “He commanded a group of us boys.” Nyx swallowed, his throat bobbing visibly. “He… kept us in line.”

  “He punished you,” I translated.

  “Sometimes,” he rasped.

  “But not just beatings,” I pressed, aware that I was treading on dangerous ground. “After all, anyone who’s been in the military has been the recipient of a beating or five at some point. It rather comes with the territory, I fear.”

  Nyx huffed out a breath, only to wince as his ribs protested the small movement. “In the military, yeah… or a stablehand in the palace stables, for that matter.”

  I remembered how battered Nyx had been when I first met him, after he’d helped Frella escape from the palace in Safaad.

  “So. Something worse than beatings, then,” I hazarded.

  His
eyes lifted to mine. The unusual hazel color he’d been born with still dominated, but there was an empty void lurking behind that gaze. It was a void that I recognized far, far too well, and I had to suppress a shiver upon seeing it.

  Nyx wet his lips and swallowed. “The men who took us didn’t only use us as foot-soldiers.” He hesitated for a few moments before continuing. “They also used us for… other things.”

  “This man. Daarvin. He raped you,” I said, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding between us regarding something so serious. “You were a child of nine, and he forced you sexually.”

  His gaze went distant and unfocused. He lifted a shoulder carelessly, letting it drop an instant later.

  “Look. I know you’re not him, all right?” Nyx said in a voice with far too little inflection. “I’m not a lack-wit. It’s not you I’m afraid of. But sometimes my body sees him when I look at you, and it doesn’t seem to matter if my mind knows it’s not true.”

  “I see,” I said in a similarly flat tone. “That’s quite understandable, given the circumstances. As long as you understand that I would never—”

  “I already told you I’m not a lack-wit.” A hint of anger colored Nyx’s voice, making it sound less distant and disconnected. “I don’t need you to tell me you’re not a child rapist, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Or any other kind of rapist, I hasten to add,” I put in, striving to layer my tone with my usual facade of carelessness, even though my stomach was churning.

  “Or any other kind,” he agreed, though his expression was still irritated. “Look, I’d stop my reaction if I could, all right? God knows I’ve tried.”

  Silence reigned for a beat.

  “I’m terrified of ravens,” I told him.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Ravens,” I repeated. “Flapping black wings. Feathers and the sound of cawing. It turns me into an utter, insensible wreck.”

  Nyx continued to look at me oddly. “Why?”

  Now it was my turn to go distant. “Because I was left for dead once, during a battle, and my unconscious body was tossed into a gully with dozens of my comrades’ corpses for three days. There were… a lot of ravens.”

  He blinked at me, visibly slotting things together. “That’s why you have nightmares.”

  “Just so,” I agreed. “Though they’ve been better since—”

  “Since you started sleeping with Frella… and with Eldris?” he finished, letting it trail off into a question.

  “Quite,” I said faintly. “Though I’ve no doubt I’ll be rousing everybody from a sound sleep tonight, and for the next several nights to come.”

  “Frella and I had sex while you and the others were gone,” Nyx said in quiet tones. “It was my first time… with a woman.”

  “Good,” I said, still feeling oddly untethered from my surroundings. “Well, the part about Frella, I mean. The part about it being your first time is positively tragic.”

  He blinked dark-lashed eyes at me. “We’ll get her back, you know,” he said. “We have to.”

  “I know,” I breathed.

  Chapter 8: Contingencies

  Eldris

  “EXACTLY HOW WELL do you know the layout of this place, Rayth?” I asked. “I mean, yeah—I get that the palace was your home once. But that was years ago, for one thing… and I can’t really imagine that a prince of the realm spent all that much time down in the dungeons, for another.”

  Rayth blew out a breath and lifted the neck of the wineskin to his lips, drinking deeply.

  I eyed it, weighing the merits of saying something versus holding my peace. Concern won out. “You planning on easing off of that wine anytime soon?”

  The eyebrow he raised was sharp enough to cut glass. “If I’m going to be answering questions like the one you just asked, there isn’t enough wine in Utrea. So let me ask a question in return. What do you know—or think you know—about my exile?”

  An unhappy breath huffed out of me. “Same as most people, I expect. Prince Rathanii… eldest son of King Khalafu. Heir to the throne until your mother—the king’s second wife—was caught with another man, at which point you were declared a bastard and tossed out on your ear,” I rattled off, before muttering, “Fuckin’ ridiculous system for choosing a ruler, if you ask me,” under my breath.

  He saluted me with the wineskin. “You’ll hear no disagreement from me. And to answer your original query—a prince of the realm might not spend all that much time in the palace dungeons unless he happens to have a taste for watching—or dishing out—torture. But a prisoner awaiting exile does.”

  “Right, then.” I nodded and cleared my throat. “So… as you’ve probably guessed, Ari sent me out here partly to get me out from underfoot, and partly to find out exactly how crazy your plan sounded. Thing is, I’m still not sure what to tell him on that front.”

  “Tell him if he doesn’t like it, he’s welcome to come up with something better,” Rayth growled. “Somehow, we need to deal with both the palace guard and the city guard. Flying in on dragons and breathing fire at the things they’re supposed to be protecting sounds like the most straightforward way to do that.”

  “That’s not the part I’m unhappy with.”

  He ignored me. “The sheer numbers of the city guard mean that an attack on two fronts is more likely to be effective against them. With another dragonrider dedicated to attacking the palace guard, that means three of the dragons will be needed for purposes of distraction. We still need someone to sneak in quietly and retrieve the hellion, while the fourth dragon is nearby to provide a means of escape afterward. Would you prefer we send Nyx into the dungeons to get her?”

  The last was delivered pointedly, Rayth’s bloodshot gaze never leaving mine.

  “No,” I said, “I would not prefer we send Nyx in after her. I would prefer to have a bit more confidence that the wine-soaked asshole who’s planning on going in after her wasn’t doing so as part of some sort of revenge-fueled suicide plan.”

  Rayth didn’t even blink. “Don’t insult me. Look at it this way—your unusual skin color and general air of homicidal threat makes you a poor choice for stealth. Aristede is quite likely to be operating on next to no sleep, and we both know Nyx isn’t lethal enough for the job. Plus, as we’ve already covered, I’m familiar with the layout.”

  I held Rayth’s flat stare. “Yeah, you’re right about all of those things. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “As long as you like the idea of Frella stuck in an interrogation cell less,” he said, “I’m fine with that.”

  We continued to lock eyes for long moments before my lips twisted into a frown of concession. “You already know the answer to that.”

  “I do,” he agreed. “Now, maybe you should go check on things inside. I’ll be along once the sun goes down—the dragons can keep the watch for us tonight.”

  If I took any satisfaction from scooping up the wineskin as I rose and taking it with me, I didn’t let it show on my face. At least it would ensure that Rayth actually did come into the cave to pass out for a few hours. His expression said he knew exactly what I was doing and didn’t appreciate it. I didn’t particularly care.

  Inside, Aristede was seated at the rough table we’d fashioned, watching Nyx sleep with his chin resting on one hand and a thoughtful expression on his face. I sat across from him, on another of the thick sections of tree trunk we used for stools.

  “He all right?” I asked in a voice low enough not to wake the injured man, jerking my chin in Nyx’s direction.

  “He hasn’t been all right for a very long time, I don’t think,” Aristede answered just as quietly, his tone musing. Gray eyes met mine in the firelight. “He finally told me why I unsettle him.”

  My eyebrows rose in surprise, and I blinked. “Did he now?”

  “He did. Though it’s not my story to pass on. I’m certain you understand.”

  I waved the words away. “Doesn’t matter. I guessed the gist of
it a while back, and I don’t need the details. You copin’ okay with what he told you?”

  Aristede’s head nodded in an ambiguous arcing motion—neither assent nor dissent. “I’m not certain. Though it’s far from our most pressing concern at the moment. What about Rayth?”

  I sighed. “What he’s come up with—it’s not the worst plan. It’s also not the best. Though it might be the best we can expect, given our current resources and the limited amount of time we have to work with. You’d better get some sleep, Ari. I’ll wake you if the dreams come.”

  He exhaled slowly through his nose. “Right.”

  Rather than let him stew about it, I rose and snagged him by the bicep, bringing him up with me and pulling him into an embrace. He made a huffing noise of irritation that didn’t fool either of us, and leaned into me for a moment before pulling away. Once he’d settled himself in his bedroll, I joined him and cinched an arm around his waist without asking.

  He didn’t protest.

  * * *

  The next two days passed in a flurry of planning, arguing about details and logistics, and silently hoping that Nyx would improve quickly enough to be able to fly on Lisha by the time we needed to leave.

  Honestly, the timetable remained the biggest point of contention with the plan. Everyone more or less agreed on the basic strategy—that we needed to keep the guards and soldiers busy with the dragons so Rayth could get in and extract Frella, after which we’d fly back here to regroup.

  It would take days for the king’s troops to follow us on foot and horseback. When they did, however, it was likely they’d be armed with weapons appropriate to the task of shooting dragons from the sky—armaments Rayth described as being similar to harpoons, but fired from an oversized crossbow mounted on a heavy frame. For that reason, we needed to be elsewhere by the time they arrived.

  Our destination once we fled the valley for good was another bone of contention. Utrea was bordered on two sides by the sprawling Alyrion Empire, which would be the worst place we could possibly go. We might buy time by going elsewhere inside Utrean territory, but the entire kingdom would be subject to the bounty on dragons, and also fair game for Khalafu and Oblisii’s armies.