Dragon Lover

by Karilyn Bentley

  Both? What did Fafnir have to prove? “I suppose.”

  “And you know as well as I that once Keara sets her mind to something, nothing will stop her. At least if you approve it, you can supervise it.”

  “She couldn’t do it without approval. The spell requires the Harvest circle.” The same overlarge, silver rune-lined circle that turned her into a dragon at the Harvest festival.

  Annaliese’s brows rose then crashed. “Are you sure?”

  “You know another silver circle where females fly?”

  “There are more uses for that circle than we thought. Maybe research should be put into reading and translating the old scrolls. Wonder what else we’d find in there we’ve lost over the years?”

  “Plenty of things, I’m sure. None of which will help me make a decision.”

  “What would you decide if it was you performing the ritual? If Keara weren’t involved?”

  No hesitation. “I’d do it. But that’s not the problem.”

  “You are included in the keeping Draconi safe and sound vow. How can you not give yourself the same rules as you force on Keara?”

  As usual, her second in command had a point. The logic failed to help her feel better about sending Keara to a possible early death.

  “What if she dies?”

  “We mourn her death.”

  “I take it you are for her working the spell.”

  “I think she can do it with no harm to herself. She should be allowed to make the decision. She knows the risks.”

  Aryana closed her eyes and pressed the pads of her index fingers against the bridge of her nose. A deep breath in, a slow release of air. “She is overconfident in her abilities.”

  “No, she’s not. She has a lot of magic for a Halfling. She’d been practicing on absorbing magic without doing harm to herself. Allow her to prove her abilities. You’ll be surprised at the result.”

  “Surprised in a good way or a bad one?”

  “That remains to be seen. But I’m confident Keara will survive intact with little consequence.”

  Was Keara living the surprise? What else could Annaliese mean? The Healer worked closely with Keara, which meant she had a better grasp than did Aryana on the Halfling’s ability to perform the spell without causing herself harm.

  Perhaps she feared unnecessarily for Keara’s safety. Perhaps her nephew’s mate had stronger powers than she thought. After all, Keara was a death raiser, a talent reserved for fables, tales told to the young, but not believed. She probably could return Fafnir to human form with little to no harm to herself.

  Annaliese was right. As usual.

  So why did she still feel so nervous?

  Chapter Eleven

  Fafnir sat in the dragon-sized purification pool outside of the Temple, watching the water lap against his scales as weak light from the late morning sun washed him in thin warmth. Smoke from burning incense bathed him and he pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth in an attempt not to sneeze. He should be joining the acolyte who waved the incense stick in prayers. Instead his thoughts drifted to the upcoming ritual. To the spell his daughter would cast. To the remembrance of two feet instead of four, of flesh covering bones. To his mate.

  Within the hour, Keara would cast the spell that would return him to human form, drain his magic, or kill him. Maybe all three. He hoped for the first option, keeping his magic intact, even if it meant never again covering himself in scales. Not having the ability to turn into a dragon was a price well paid. He’d spent enough time hiding behind scales and thick hide.

  Time to reveal his true identity.

  Fafnir shivered.

  Within hours, hiding as a dragon would no longer be an option. What would Aryana say when she saw him? Bond with me?

  He’d be lucky if she spoke to him at all. Not that he blamed her. If she’d been hiding under his snout for a month pretending to be someone else, her grand reveal would go over like a sack of stones. He’d forgive her. Eventually.

  But would she ever forgive him?

  To do so would mean giving up all she’d worked for, her dreams, her goal, the position of High Priestess. How could he ask that of her?

  How could he not?

  She might ask Ragnor to bond in her dream, but faced with him in real life she’d choose the priestesshood.

  Fafnir sucked down a deep breath. Some things weren’t to be no matter how predicted.

  He still wanted out of his scales. He needed to admit to his father he lived. Even if it killed him.

  Which it very well might do.

  The thought of meeting Alviss as Ragnor sent another head-to-toe shiver cascading through his body.

  “Is the water temperature too cold?” The white-robed acolyte assigned to assist him in the purification bath stood to the side of the pool, concern written in her green gaze.

  Concern for his current discomfort or upcoming ritual?

  What did it matter? He had enough problems in his own head without worrying about hers.

  The temperature is perfect. Thank you for your concern.

  She nodded. “I’m glad you find it so. The air is a bit chilly and that makes keeping the pools at a pleasant temperature a little difficult. If you are finished with your prayers, I can call one of the priestesses to take you to where the ritual will be held.”

  The ritual. The point of no return. Literally. If everything went as Keara expected it to, then he’d never experience the thickness of a dragon’s hide on a chilly morning again. He’d be forever locked in human form.

  And he was complaining, why?

  I am ready.

  As ready as he’d ever be. The water would go cold and freeze before he thought of what to say to Aryana after he turned. What did you say to your mate when you’d been hiding behind a mask, refusing to admit who you were?

  Surprise?

  Since he doubted anyone else ever had his problem, he’d have to figure it out on his own.

  Goddess help him.

  Annaliese appeared beside the acolyte, her curly dark hair held off her face by a circlet of gold around her head. Gold embroidered dragons danced down the front of her white gown, a sign of her high rank in the priestesshood. A wrinkle twisted between her brows.

  Maybe she didn’t have as much confidence in Keara’s abilities as she claimed.

  She placed a hand on the acolyte’s shoulder. “Thank you. You may go now.”

  The acolyte nodded to Annaliese before facing Fafnir. “I pray the Goddess surround you in her arms and grant you your request.”

  Which request? The no-more-dragon-form or the let-my-mate-still-want-me? Probably the former since he doubted the young acolyte had any idea of the latter. Thank you for your prayers.

  A hint of a smile graced her lips before she disappeared with her sneeze-inducing incense. Fafnir sucked down a breath of fresh air. Ahhh.

  “Are you ready, brother?”

  As ready as I can be. No amount of time would prep him for what he feared to see in Aryana’s eyes.

  Annaliese took a step closer. “Do not fret about things. It will all turn out the way it should. No matter what happens.”

  As usual, she read his mind, stripping away the thin veneer he tried to use as a mask. Well, that’s one way of looking at things.

  Her chuckle wiped the wrinkle from her face. “It’s always good to accept serenity. Provided you can pull it off. If I am truthful, I’m a bit worried.”

  Never would’ve guessed. He offered her a toothy grin.

  “That obvious?”

  It is to be expected. I’m more worried about Aryana and Father than I am about the ritual.

  “As I said…”

  It will all turn out the way it should. But would it be the way he wanted?

  “No use dallying in the water. Come, now. It’s time.”

  Time. No more hiding behind a mask of lies. Taking a deep breath, Fafnir walked up the slope leading out of the water until he stood dripping on the side of the pool.
A quick shake to rid his scales of water droplets. No turning back. No more cowardice.

  From this day on, he’d face his troubles head on instead of running from them. He’d talk to his mate and come to an agreement, whatever that may be. He’d admit to his father his failings.

  All right, maybe not the last item, but he liked to think avoiding Alviss made him more prudent than cowardly.

  Whatever got him through the day.

  What are you waiting for, Leesie? The pool to freeze over?

  “You to stop shaking water all over the place.” She flicked a droplet off her gown as she walked toward him.

  It was one shake.

  “That eliminated the need for watering for a week.” Her hand rested against his shoulder, the warmth soaking into his skin. “Close your eyes. We’re going to one of the secret rooms of the Temple.”

  Her transportation spell wrapped around him like a warm blanket, soft and comforting. Within seconds they reappeared in a cavernous chamber, the light from hundreds of candles brushing the darkness from the stone walls. Not a window to be seen, the ceiling sweeping upward into inky blackness. Dampness clung to the room, the dank scent of dirt and mildew. Not that he saw a speck of dirt or mildew. At least not where the light from the candles chased away shadows.

  Underground. Deep underground in a chamber beneath the Temple.

  Fafnir tried to remember exploring this room when a hatchling roaming around the Temple, running from his mother. Clearly, he’d never made it here. He’d have remembered that huge silver-runed circle etched into the stone floor.

  No forgetting that thing.

  Annaliese did not jest about the room being secret. He wondered how many of the priestesses knew of its existence and where it was located. Probably several of the former but only two of the latter.

  Aryana stood on the other side of the circle, her back toward him, talking in whispers to Keara. Their words floated around the room like the buzz of insects, low and droning. Neither of them noticed his arrival.

  “Step into the circle, face east, and don’t move.” Annaliese spoke in hushed tones, but her voice caused Aryana and Keara to stop their conversation and look at him. Both females offered a quick grin before returning to their conversation.

  How do you know which way is east?

  Annaliese raised a brow as if to remark on his dimwittedness. She glanced toward the wall on his left then back to him. He traced the path of her gaze. On the wall, lit by the flickering light of a torch, gleamed a painted sun.

  Oh. Well. That solved that issue.

  She patted his shoulder on her way to Aryana and Keara. Fafnir stood in the circle, tail wrapped around his legs, his flank to the females. His entire body fit inside the silver-lined circle with room to spare.

  The females continued talking in whispers, little incoherent buzzes, as he stood wondering what the ritual would involve. The fear of a thing wasn’t in the occurrence, but in the imagining. Constantly dwelling on the ritual and resulting aftermath drained him of energy. No use worrying. To paraphrase his sister, what would be, should be.

  Candlelight flickered over the silver-etched runes, catching his attention. What did they mean? He focused on the rune closest to him. Maybe he should have paid closer attention to his lessons when a hatchling.

  So many years ago. And these runes looked nothing like what he’d learned.

  Which didn’t stop him from trying to read them.

  “What are you doing?” Aryana stood next to him and Fafnir blinked. How did she get there so fast? Transported? Or was he so lost in thought he failed to see her approach? “You need to face east.”

  Well, what do you know? He’d turned several steps to the south. Sorry. Fafnir shuffled around until once again he faced east. I was looking at the runes.

  “You can read them?”

  Can you?

  Pink tinged her cheekbones. “Are you ready?”

  As ready as I’m going to be. But was she ready for who he was?

  Probably not. Which meant things would soon get interesting.

  “Hello, Fafnir.” Keara walked around the circle until she stood beside Aryana. “I will light the candles and place them on the four directions, then start the spell. This is your last chance to back out.” Her lips turned in a grin, but he read the lines of concentration framing her eyes.

  No backing out. It’s time for me to move forward. And leave the rest to fate.

  Keara nodded, reaching out to touch his snout. Everything will be fine.

  He wasn’t sure if she said that for his benefit or hers. But he bumped his snout against her hand to offer encouragement.

  She took a step back and walked out of his line of vision, returning with four candles. As she placed them around the cardinal points of the circle, she whispered words he couldn’t hear before lighting their wicks. Aryana and Annaliese took positions to the right and left of his head, outside of the circle on the periphery of his vision, leaving the area directly before him for Keara.

  She stepped in front of him and he saw a glow of magic surrounding her head like an aura of pulsing blue-green light. The magic flowed down her body as she held a hand out toward him. When she spoke, thick and ancient words laced with a tangible power stroked across his scales, seeking inside him for a similar magic.

  As soon as the spell touched his magic, he realized two things, setting loose a dance of pride and surprise twisting through his marrow. Keara possessed more powerful magic than he thought. And the spell only worked since she was his kin, his flesh, his daughter.

  The spell called like to like. Kin to kin. Magic to magic. His magic formed hers. Hers transformed his.

  A powerful spell. A dangerous spell. And one he was powerless to stop.

  Strands of magic twisted around him, bathing him in a blue-green glow before slamming through his scales into his bones. Fafnir gasped. He couldn’t help it. Pain like he’d never felt before radiated outward, consuming him in agony.

  Keara paused when he gasped, eyes wide.

  For Goddess’ sake, girl, don’t stop! He’d die if she failed to speak the rest of the spell, if she stopped before finishing.

  Her voice cracked as she restarted the spell, growing steadier as her words flowed in a rush. The overwhelming agony disappeared, but the pulsating pain remained. Magic from deep inside him bubbled up through his scales, joining with Keara’s magic, until the two formed one mass.

  Keara held her hand out toward him, spoke a word, and yanked her hand back, pulling at their joined energies. Fafnir screamed as she pulled his magic from its moorings, freeing it from the confines of his body. Pain ricocheted across sensitized nerve endings. It might not be the most male-like thing to scream like a frightened hatchling, but the thought failed to stop the rush of air from his throat.

  His human throat.

  Fafnir dropped to the ground, to all fours, his scream echoing in his ears as it rose to the shadow-covered ceiling. His palms slapped against the stone floor, once, twice. He closed his lips. Ran his tongue over them. Lips. Human lips. Not the hard scales of a dragon.

  His lungs inflated, sucking down air like a bellows, which meant no more screams erupted from his throat. But the air smelled different, not as damp or mildewy, blunted as if his nose was stuffy.

  Or shortened.

  Black hair brushed the backs of his hands. Long hair. Probably the same length as when he Changed all those years ago. He rubbed a strand between his fingers. Hair. Something he used to take for granted. No more.

  He touched the back of his hand with a finger. Human flesh. Not dragon scale. Blue veins ran under his skin, rivers of blood to his heart. Black hair dusted his forearms, his thighs, the juncture between his legs.

  Nice to know that part of him still existed.

  Not so nice to know he knelt naked in front of his daughter.

  Fafnir focused on the stones between his palms, hair hanging around his face, blocking him from Aryana’s view. He needed to look up, to see
her face as she recognized him. To see as she rejected him.

  Since he continued to look at the ground, he must be a bigger coward than he thought. Although that wasn’t true.

  When faced with the magical equivalent of a dissection, a coward would run in fear. Not volunteer for a change back into human form.

  He was not a coward. Not anymore. He would face his mistakes.

  Even if it meant rejection.

  Fafnir raised his hands to his head, running them through his hair from temples to nape as he raised his head.

  Keara stood in front of him, eyes wide, face pale. She swayed, one hand reached toward him. “Hello, Father,” she whispered before crumpling to the ground.

  He jumped to his feet. Bare feet against cool stone. But he only made it a step forward before Annaliese stopped him.

  “Don’t move out of the circle! I’m not sure if she ended the spell.”

  “What did she mean by father?” Aryana, his mate, his love, looked to him, then to Annaliese as she knelt by Keara.

  “How—” his voice rasped like a thing unused and he cleared his throat. “How is she?” Definitely needed to practice on speaking.

  But then what did he expect after twenty-four years of silence?

  A moan answered his question.

  “Keara?” Annaliese stroked his daughter’s face.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She pushed off the females’ hands. “Just a little weak and very surprised.” With help, she sat, resting her head on her knees for a moment.

  When she raised her head and looked at him, Fafnir felt heat splash into his cheeks and covered his crotch with his hands. Not that he minded his naked-arse state, but that didn’t mean he wanted his daughter to see him that way.

  “Is he free to leave the circle?” Annaliese asked Keara.

  “Oh, yes. Sorry.” Her grin resonated within his heart. “As you can tell the spell worked, we just need to know if you can still work magic. Whatever you do, don’t try to change into a dragon. I have no idea if you do, if you’d be able to change back into a human.”

  At the moment, changing into a dragon was the last thing on his mind.

  Aryana’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. Fafnir noted the moment she realized who he was, the moment her eyes widened. “Ragnor?”