She asked.
She didn’t realize he and Ragnor were one and the same. No matter.
She asked.
His mate wanted to bond with him. And didn’t that make a male stand a little taller.
It might make him stand a little taller, but it created another problem. What would Aryana do when she realized the overlarge dragon in her healing room was really her mate?
Jump for joy? Cast him out? Wish she’d never met him?
Why couldn’t he foresee this problem when a hatchling? Maybe then the two of them would not have thought themselves above the prediction of the old Seer.
What would he do if Keara managed to reverse his current locked-in-dragon-form predicament? How would he face Aryana as a human?
The door to the healing room flew open, ushering in a red-faced, ear-steaming Thoren. So much for worrying about future conversations with Ari.
“Aunt Ari.” Thoren gave Fafnir a nonplussed glance before heading toward Aryana.
“Thoren!” Aryana sat straighter in bed as she faced her nephew. “Shouldn’t you go see Jaythena and your mother?”
“I already have and was told you were also in a healing room. Why didn’t you wait for the Council instead of going after Fasolt on your own? Now you’re injured and he escaped.” Thoren glowered next to Ari’s bed, his face a mask of righteous anger.
“What?” Aryana’s eyes narrowed. “You expected me to sit around wringing my hands while he kidnapped my niece when I could do something about it? In case you forgot”—one finger pointed at Thoren—“I got her out.”
“And you got injured. And he escaped.”
A snarl twisted Fafnir’s lip. No one spoke to his mate in angry tones. You might be her nephew, but you will not speak to the High Priestess that way.
Thoren turned to him. “You should not be encouraging her to put herself in danger.”
Steam puffed out Fafnir’s mouth. You think I wanted her to face Fasolt on her own? In case you forget, she is the High Priestess and can do as she wants.
“Now, now.” Annaliese stepped forward, palms facing the two males. “Your discussion is disturbing my patient. Take it outside.”
“Oh, they can stay right here,” Aryana slapped a hand against the bed, “and get it out of their systems.”
“Their argument is disturbing your peace.”
“Thoren’s going to disturb it a lot worse if you don’t let him have his say.”
Fafnir stood a little taller. She said Thoren, not Fafnir. Not that her words stopped him from growling at his daughter’s mate. Hot-tempered youngster. What Keara saw in him…Fafnir choked on the thought. Did he even have a right to critique his son-by-mating?
Thoren threw his hands out. “It’s not my intention to inhibit your healing.”
“Of course it isn’t.” A grin tinged Aryana’s lips. “We all know you’re worried and have to yell out your emotions. Get on with it.”
Thoren crossed his arms as his ears stopped billowing steam and turned red. “I am not yelling.”
Ari waved her hand back and forth, her eyes twinkling.
A sigh escaped Thoren’s lips and he ran a hand through his hair. “Jaythena’s a mess. Mother’s not much better. Fasolt escaped and we’ve been unable to track him. And there are no further leads on the Watcher rebellion. At least another village wasn’t attacked in the night.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
What are you doing about the attacks? Fafnir took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Peaceful and calm voices made for a pleasant conversation. Even if the topic was less than soothing.
Thoren made another pass through his hair with his hand. “The Council Watchers are talking to the Watchers in their village. Seeing if anyone will come forward.”
Good idea. Because they all want to volunteer to be charcoaled by the Draconi.
Annaliese bit back a laugh while Aryana fought a losing battle to keep a grin from twisting her lips.
Thoren shook his head. “You know as well as I do they’ll be a bit more discreet about it than I made it sound.”
Just jesting with you. Fafnir offered a toothy grin. Did the attackers mention anything?
“Nothing other than what we knew. That they are throwing off the yoke of Draconi rule by overthrowing us. And we have no magic. Not sure where they got that one.”
“And,” Ari said, “they’ve undoubtedly been aided by Fasolt.”
“Who wants revenge on you,” Annaliese added.
“It appears so.” Thoren ran a hand through his hair. Fafnir drew in a deep breath. Perhaps jealousy over his current lack of hair follicles rode his scales, but that hand-through-hair nervous tic of Thoren’s made him want to growl. “If you stripped Fasolt of his powers, how can he disappear and use his magic?”
Why did you strip him of his powers?
Aryana pulled her attention from Thoren to him. Steam hissed out her ears as a snarl pulled her lip. “He beat one of my priestesses.”
What? Fafnir forced his raised eye-ridges to drop and his mouth to close. Males beat females? Until now, he’d never heard of a Draconi male hurting a female. Females were cherished, loved. They held the power of the Goddess within their bodies and were treated as Her vessels. To hit one was a punishable crime. Worse than him abandoning Keara to be raised by humans.
“Claimed he failed to see the Goddess during their session, but that was no reason to hit her.”
And that’s why you banished him?
“Yes. I thought stripping him of his powers and banishing him would solve the problem.”
Why didn’t you kill him?
“I didn’t want to bring the matter before the Council.”
He opened his mouth to ask why not, then shut it when he realized the reason. Her feud with his father. What a mess. All the way around.
“As I was saying”—Thoren crossed his arms—“if you stripped Fasolt of his powers, how can he disappear and use his magic?”
“We don’t know if stripping a Draconi of his powers always permanently works.” Aryana glanced at the ceiling and back to her nephew, a tint of red peppering her cheeks. “And I was in a rage when I did it. Never work magic in a rage, my mentor always said. Guess I didn’t listen.”
“I helped you,” Annaliese interjected. “And even if his magic wasn’t stripped from him, he was still banished. He should not have been able to get through the wards. Ever. So how did he? That’s what you need to figure out.”
“The wards were weakened.”
The wards don’t weaken unless someone makes them weak.
“That is true.” Annaliese glanced to Aryana before focusing on Thoren. “Did he have help getting back into Draconia?”
“He had a regiment of soldiers and the lord of Keara’s village with him. Clearly something went wrong with the wards. Even if they let Fasolt back in, they should have repelled the humans.”
Lily came through them.
“She was with you.”
The soldiers were with Fasolt.
“But he should not have been allowed in.”
“Clearly you have more problems than you thought.” Aryana drummed her fingers once against the sheet where it covered her legs. “Did you not assess this issue when it occurred?”
“Of course we did.” Thoren crossed his arms and gave Aryana a glare. “We strengthened the wards. It was unclear how they became weak. There was no magical signature around them. No red flag stating who tampered with them. Perhaps they grow weak over the years.”
“If I recall, it was only in that one spot where they were weak. Are you saying it was a coincidence that Fasolt found the only weakened spot in the ward-line and exploited it? That’s too coincidental for reality.”
Sounds like he had help.
“Who’d help an outcast?” Thoren raised a brow at Fafnir.
His friends? Was the male dense?
A headshake negated Fafnir’s answer. “No self-respecting male would continue a friendship with
one who abused a female and was banished for it.”
“Maybe his friends have no self-respect?” Annaliese cocked a brow.
“Did you even ask?” Aryana matched her expression to Annaliese.
“It was not brought up. At least I didn’t hear about it.”
Find out who’s helping him and you’ll find Fasolt.
“He needs to be destroyed.” Thoren smacked a fist against his palm. “What kind of a male does what he has?”
“He claims to have lost his mate.”
“That might lead to some crazy behavior and grief, but not violence. Alviss did not blow up villages when he lost his mate.”
He almost destroyed the house. Fafnir caught himself before projecting that thought. A quick glance at his sister showed she remembered the same event. A grieving Alviss, sparks flying from his fingers as furniture burst into a thousand splinters. Somehow Annaliese managed to spell him into an uneasy sleep, while Fafnir repaired the destroyed furniture.
No one ever needed to know the depths of his father’s grief. How the older male almost died with his mate. According to his father, appearances meant everything.
Good thing the old male thought him dead.
“Father is Council Leader. Fasolt does not have that much magic.”
A rap banged against the door, stopping the conversation as all turned toward the sound. Before anyone spoke, Keara darted into the room like a rabid dragon chased her. She kicked the door shut behind her as she rushed toward Aryana.
“Keara.” Annaliese’s eyes narrowed. “What brings you here?”
“Little One!” Thoren stepped into her path, drawing her into his arms. He brushed a kiss across her lips before releasing her.
Fafnir might wonder why Keara mated Thoren, but after that kiss and the glow in Thoren’s eyes, he had no doubt his daughter was well loved. Which was more than he could say for how he treated her the past twenty-four years.
Keeping a hold of Thoren’s hand, Keara ignored Annaliese and spoke to Ari.
“I know I can perform the spell for reversing Fafnir’s dragon form and I want to try it soon.”
Hope glowed in Aryana’s eyes as she glanced toward him, but she banked the look before facing Keara. “How do you know? Last I looked the old scrolls were in the Older Language and the spell needed deciphering.”
“The Archivist read it to me. I know what to do. Will you let me?”
“Ask Fafnir.”
Of course I’ll let her. He couldn’t hide forever. And he was getting tired of being in dragon form. Celibacy was not a state of being he enjoyed.
Especially when his mate asked him to bond.
In a dream. It still counted.
But would she accept him for her mate?
Maybe remaining a dragon wasn’t so bad after all.
Who was he kidding? He hated being in dragon form constantly. He never realized how much easier life was as a human. How useful it was to have a thumb. Or a hand. Or a bed-romp for that matter.
Maybe that was why he was so depressed. Lack of bed-romping. Luckily the cure for that stood before him, offering to turn him back into a human.
No more hiding when in human form. Too many people would recognize him, even after twenty-four years. And no guarantees Ari would want to be around him, let alone bond with him. Or tell him how she became a dragon.
Fafnir took a deep breath. Trading scales and four legs for skin and feet was well worth revealing his true identity.
When can you work the spell?
****
Aryana sat on the bed with Keara beside her, trying to read the passage from the old scroll. Deciphering spells, rummaging through old scrolls, the parchment brittle beneath her fingers, ranked high on her enjoyment list. Perhaps she would have studied under the Archivist if she hadn’t been so eager for the position of High Priestess.
Written on a new scrap of parchment, the spell held none of the flavors of old age as fresh ink glittered on the page. The Archivist copied the passage for them since she refused to let the brittle scroll out of the archive room. During the time it took the older priestess to make the copy, Aryana visited with Moira, Thoren left for a Council meeting, and Fafnir disappeared to talk with Annaliese.
She wondered what that talk was about. Annaliese acted like she knew Fafnir, but if that were the case, wouldn’t her friend and closest advisor tell her who the dragon was? Especially since she knew Aryana’s feelings for him?
“Aunt Aryana.” Keara touched her hand. “Are you all right? You looked distant for a minute there.”
“Just thinking.” And since she didn’t want Keara to know who invaded her thoughts, she added, “About everything that’s been going on. We need to find out who’s behind the attacks, and I’m stuck in the healing room.”
“I’m sure the Council will discover the perpetrator and bring him to justice.”
Undoubtedly, but not in the time frame she wanted. After all, a month had passed since Fasolt entered Draconia. A month. And the Council had yet to find him. Compared to that, discovering the cryptically written spell seemed easy.
Aryana made a noncommittal noise. “Now, are you sure you can work this? It requires much more energy absorption than you are used to.”
“Of course. It’s the same principle as when I helped Thoren through the Change.”
“Yes, and that left you near death. How do you know this won’t?” Thoren would blame her if something happened to Keara.
He’d be right.
Aryana possessed magic in abundance, her own, the land’s, and the occasional touch of the Goddess’s. Even with all that power, she could no more work this ancient spell than she could return the dead to the living.
But Keara could. Return the dead to the living, that was. But could she work the spell?
Aryana swallowed. What if Keara couldn’t? What if she got halfway through the spell and, Goddess forbid, died? What would happen to Fafnir if the spell remained half-complete?
“I’ve been practicing since then. I’ve learned what to do with the energy, how to convert it so it doesn’t damage me. Don’t worry, no near death experiences for me again.”
“I know you believe that, but there are too many unknown variables. Perhaps Fafnir should stay as is.” At least he was alive in dragon form. Which was more than she could say for her mate.
Aargh. Why did she have to think of her dream? She had enough on her mind without adding to the mix.
“No!” The force behind the word startled Aryana and she gave a little jump. “I’m sorry, but no. Fafnir has to be changed back into human form. If I have the ability to help him, then shouldn’t I? Besides, I thought you wanted him changed. I see the way you look at him.”
Heat splashed against her cheeks. Was it that obvious? “Leave me the spell, let me review it and pray for guidance. I’ll get back with you.” Keara sat still, staring at her like she grew a pair of wings. “Go on now. Leave me alone.”
Keara looked at the parchment while placing it beside Aryana on the bed. Her green gaze flashed upwards, eyes narrowed. “I can do this. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
With those words, she strode out of the room, the skirt of her white gown swirling around her ankles as she pulled the door shut.
Ari let out a breath. Of course Keara thought she could perform the spell. She was young, powerful, with a thin slice of pride that had grown since she arrived in Draconia. Pride could do a lot of things. Raise a person up or cause them to fall.
What would the outcome be in this case?
Her fingertips traced the words, the spell warm under her skin. Even copied, the words gave a physical warning to those who would dare read them aloud. She wanted Keara to be right. Oh, how she wanted. To see Fafnir in the flesh. To feel the touch of his skin against hers. To care for a male.
But dare she risk Keara’s life?
Perhaps it wouldn’t be a risk. Perhaps Keara would speak the spell with the power of the Goddess behind her and work mag
ic like no one living had ever seen.
After all, Aryana had turned into a dragon during the Harvest festival. What was one more act of rarely seen magic?
Ari picked up the piece of parchment with the copied spell and read through it again, translating the Old Language into the modern one. She pushed back against the pillows until she sat straight, then crossed her legs, placing the parchment on her lap. Resting her palms on her knees, she closed her eyes and began her prayer.
Maybe the Goddess would deign to show her what to do.
But all she saw behind her lids was Ragnor’s face. Her dream lover. Her dead mate.
So much for asking for the Goddess’s wisdom. It appeared she was on her own.
On one hand, she wanted to see Fafnir in the flesh instead of scaled. She wanted to see if the attraction between them could turn into something more.
On the other, the thought of Keara harmed sent an arrow of fire burning into her stomach.
She couldn’t conscientiously choose her selfish desire over the wellbeing of one of her people. As the High Priestess, she was charged with the safekeeping of the Draconi. How could she knowingly send one into danger to soothe her own desires?
“Shouldn’t the decision be Fafnir and Keara’s?”
Aryana jumped, eyes snapping open, her heart pounding an uneven rhythm behind her ribs. Annaliese stood at the foot of the bed, hands folded in front of her waist, her face a false mask of innocence.
“Shouldn’t you stay out of my mind?”
“You spoke it aloud.”
“Oh.” Well, that was embarrassing. What else did she accidentally say?
“You should let them decide.”
“I hold ultimate responsibility for all Draconi. Part of my duties include keeping Draconi as safe as possible. I can’t knowingly send Keara off to work a spell that might kill her. What kind of High Priestess would I be if I didn’t watch over my people?”
“Ensuring safety does not mean refusing others that which they want to do. You cannot prohibit everything in hopes of saving one from harm. What kind of High Priestess would you be if you did that?”
“So you think I should allow it.”
“Yes. I think both Fafnir and Keara deserve a chance to prove themselves.”
Dragon Lover Page 11