Dragon Lover

by Karilyn Bentley

  “Fine.” Her jaw tensed as she turned back to Fasolt, whose arm twitched. Ari flicked her fingers and the Draconi stiffened. “I’m using a binding spell to keep them frozen. It works better on the Watcher than Fasolt.”

  “Watcher?” Fafnir walked closer to his mate, searching the room for another person.

  “Behind Fasolt.”

  There. Prone upon the ground lay a Watcher, blood and dust covering him from head to toe.

  “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know. Do you recognize him? He’s older. Probably around before your captivity.”

  “Do you need me to help?”

  “No.” She waved a trembling hand. “I can hold him for a bit longer if you want to take a look at the Watcher.”

  “You sure?” Fatigue radiated from her body. What was wrong? Was she injured internally? Or did a simple spell cast over and again burn through magic like water in a desert? He took a step closer, but she waved him back. Pain stabbed his chest before he washed it away on a deep breath.

  She’d accept him. Maybe not today, but soon. Patience, patience. For now he needed to concentrate on keeping her safe.

  Although she seemed to be meeting that goal on her own.

  “Go identify him for me.” One finger pointed at the prone Watcher. “Before the Council shows up and hauls him away. I’m assuming you contacted them?”

  He raised a brow. “Of course.”

  “Never thought I’d say it, but good.”

  He walked over to the Watcher as Aryana continued to bind Fasolt with another spell. How long could she keep spelling the male into immobility? The quicker he identified the Watcher, the quicker he could return to her side.

  Not that she wanted him there, but that’s where he needed to be.

  Fafnir peered at the prone Watcher. Blood and dust covered him from head to toe and his breaths came in shallow gulps. Probably from all the cuts covering his body. Then the Watcher opened his eyes and stared at Fafnir. A couple of blinks later and recognition set in, a stomach punch to his psyche. Fafnir’s eyes popped wide, his breath hitched deep in his chest as his mind churned, pulling memories from long ago into the present. Years had grayed the Watcher’s hair and lined his face with age, but Fafnir would recognize that face anywhere.

  His Watcher. The one who told the Cautasians about the effects of titanium upon a Draconi. The one who set him up for capture.

  Fafnir growled, anger mixing with an unhealthy dose of vengeance. “You. You told them how to capture me.”

  Latham narrowed his eyes, clearly making an effort to speak despite the binding spell.

  “Release him!” Fafnir looked at Aryana.

  Her brows furrowed. “Why?”

  “I need to speak to him. Release him.”

  She paused, then shrugged before waving her hand.

  Latham flexed his fingers as he sat. “Always butting in where you weren’t wanted. Nothing has changed.”

  “You left me to die.” Nice to know lips clenched shut didn’t prohibit speech.

  “Your death wasn’t the plan. And it apparently wasn’t a side benefit either.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know why you didn’t die. You’re a stubborn son of a bitch?”

  Before his mind weighed in on the matter, Fafnir punched his former Watcher, knocking Latham flat on his back, before straddling his legs. As if possessed, he continued to pummel Latham, years of frustration erupting to the surface. At first Latham tried to defend himself against the blows, but after a few hits, lay immobile, Fafnir’s cue to stop the beating.

  But he couldn’t. A beast buried deep inside him roared its freedom and he refused to rein in its furor. Latham jerked with each blow. Flesh hit against flesh. Again and again and again.

  Until his fist froze in midair. He tried to pull it back and got all of nowhere.

  “You can’t kill him. We need him for questioning.” Fafnir tried to turn toward Aryana’s voice only to discover he lacked control over all movement except for breathing and blinking.

  Rage exploded under immobility, boiling until it threatened to consume. How dare she hit him with a binding spell when he wanted to kill. Red clouded his vision and his skin hummed with pent up energy.

  And then reason slammed into him, shutting down the drive to kill, popping some sense into his rage-saturated mind. Fafnir blinked until the red spots dotting his vision vanished. He took a deep breath. To kill another by beating was anathema. But with the rage clouding his vision he’d shoved that law into a dark recess of his mind.

  Good thing Aryana cared enough about him to freeze his rage.

  Even if the Watcher deserved it.

  Did that mean she cared for him?

  Great. He went from coward to sappy male in less time than it took a dragon to walk off with jewels.

  At least the rage riding his veins dissipated, allowing him some measure of sanity. He glanced at the unconscious Watcher. Aryana was right. They needed answers about the Watcher rebellion. Along with the why of his capture.

  He took a deep breath in. Blew it out slowly through his nose. Death would come to Latham, and most likely by his hand, but not until questions had been answered. Would he finally learn why Latham had told humans about titanium and offered him up for capture?

  A yell snapped his attention to Aryana and Fasolt. It appeared the binding spell released Fasolt for a second, allowing him movement, but no harm to Aryana. At least no harm by his hand.

  A gray pallor hung over her face like a mask. His heart rate quickened, a frantic beating behind his ribs. Could the High Priestess become drained of magic? Or had Fasolt given her some drug? Either way, he needed to help.

  How long did this binding spell last?

  Aryana! Release me.

  She glanced his way before focusing her attention on Fasolt. Will you refrain from killing the Watcher?

  For now. Yes. Let me help you.

  His fist sagged and Fafnir yanked it toward his chest. No use in her misunderstanding his dropping fist for a thwarted punch.

  A glance to Latham showed he remained unconscious. Fafnir swallowed. One bastard down, one to go. Shaking his bleeding hand, he stood, turning to Aryana. He wanted to knock down Fasolt. To kill the one who harmed his mate.

  But the Council would soon arrive to haul the male off for questioning. Not even his father could make a dead man speak. No, he needed to tend to his mate, not render Fasolt lifeless.

  At least not now.

  When he stood next to Aryana, he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, to assure himself of her wellbeing.

  “Don’t.”

  His hand dropped mid-reach, pain spreading throughout his chest. No wonder when young he didn’t want to be mated. A female possessed the power to stomp on a male’s heart with just one word.

  Sap, sap, sap.

  Suck it up, Fafnir. Do you blame her? “Are you all right?”

  “Of course. Child’s play.” She waggled her fingers and Fasolt froze, sweat beading on his brow.

  The gray pallor of her face and the tremble in her hands betrayed her. She lied.

  Not that he’d call her on it.

  Appearances meant everything to the High Priestess.

  Strain showed in lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes. But she looked better than Fasolt, whose scarred face was an overworked shade of red complete with sweat and a snarl.

  “How did he get you here?”

  “Drugged me. With a poisoned dart.”

  He growled as steam boiled out his ears. “Bastard.”

  Aryana’s hand on his arm stopped him from taking a swing at Fasolt. Although no one could fault him for wanting to protect his mate. Even if she wanted nothing to do with him.

  “The Council will deal with him.”

  Fafnir drew in a deep breath. Released it slowly. Fasolt deserved to die. And soon. But not now.

  Fafnir! Where are you? Is Aryana all right? Annaliese’s voice slammed into his mind.

/>   She’s all right. Take the path to the left. You’ll see the light from the room. Fasolt and Latham are here.

  Latham? She paused. That’s a name I never thought to hear again.

  You and me both.

  We’re on the path now. Be there in a minute.

  “The Council…”

  “Is coming. Yes, I heard.”

  “How?”

  Breath hissed out her nose. Oh, right. Priestessly secrets.

  “When we get out of here we need to talk.”

  Her glare made him want to take a step back. He stood straighter and returned her glare with one of his own.

  She raised a brow. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Aunt Ari! Are you hurt?” Thoren’s voice boomed, shaking loose a few pebbles from the rubble of the fallen wall.

  Aryana turned to face her nephew. “I’m fine.”

  As Thoren and the Council warriors walked into the room, Fafnir saw movement from the corner of his eye. He turned in time to see Fasolt pull his arm back like he prepared to throw an energy ball at Aryana.

  Yells erupted, a cacophony filling the small room. Fafnir cast a binding spell. Take that, you poor excuse for a Draconi.

  Smoke billowed around Fasolt, enveloping him in a cloud. When the haze cleared, the Draconi stood against the stone wall, bound with multiple strands of bright colored rope, his face a mask of pain and surprise. Fafnir looked behind him at six outstretched palms. It appeared the Council had augmented his binding spell by casting their own version.

  “Is that the bastard who kidnapped my sister and drugged my mate?” Fingers clenched, Thoren snarled at Fasolt.

  “One and the same,” Fafnir replied.

  “Who are you?” Enar stepped beside Thoren, clasping a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Fafnir.”

  Thoren snapped his attention to Fafnir, joining Enar in raking him with a glare from head to toe. “You’ve changed.”

  “Nice form, my friend.” Enar turned his glare to a grin.

  “I…” am not your friend. Fafnir closed his lips to stop the rest of the sentence from escaping. No sense in saying words he no longer entirely believed. He settled for a shrug.

  “We need to return this male for questioning.” Balthor strode closer to his son. Fafnir caught his breath. Would the older male remember his almost brother-by-mating?

  “And sentencing,” Thoren added.

  Fafnir breathed a sigh of relief as Balthor focused on Fasolt, not sparing him a glance.

  “Don’t forget about the Watcher.” Aryana pointed to where Latham lay unconscious.

  “Who is he?” Balthor turned in the direction she pointed.

  “Latham,” Fafnir snarled. “He’s the one who told the humans about the effect of titanium on Draconi, which led to my capture.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aryana blinked her eyes to wipe off the surprised look she knew covered her face. What was more shocking? That the downed Watcher used to guard Ragnor? Or that Ragnor continued to call himself Fafnir? Probably the Watcher. What were the chances?

  “Tie him up.” Balthor gestured toward Latham.

  “He’s injured.” Annaliese appeared from behind Balthor, holding her skirt as she stepped over fallen rocks to the injured Watcher. Even from where she stood, Aryana knew that in order for the Council to question Latham, Annaliese needed to heal him. Unconscious males didn’t talk. At least not without the help of a spell.

  Something she kept to herself. No use in the Council discovering secrets of the priestesshood.

  What a waste of her friend’s talents.

  Leave him be, sat on her tongue, but she swallowed the words. The High Priestess should not be vengeful. Even if the male harmed her mate. Ari gritted her teeth. Did she actually use the word mate? It appeared so. Where was a convenient thought-removing spell when she needed one?

  Mate or not, Ragnor—or should she say Fafnir?—did not deserve to be thrown into a titanium cell for over twenty years. Latham earned his punishment for that alone. But working with Fasolt sealed his fate.

  With any luck, these two were the leaders of the Watcher rebellion and no more villages would be attacked.

  “Let’s get you out of here.” Fafnir rested his hand against her arm, and she swayed into his touch.

  Traitorous body.

  But his touch evoked calm in her soul. Until she remembered his lies, his refusal to tell her his true identity. She jerked away. Sucked in a breath as the room spun.

  Who would have thought constant use of an easy spell would drain her of energy? She felt like she could sleep for a week.

  “Aryana, please. I know you are upset with me—”

  She gritted her teeth and gave him her best glare. “Upset is the tip of the treasure.”

  “Fine. Thoroughly irked. I understand. But let me help you out of here. Let the Council bring in Fasolt and Latham.”

  Her jaw tensed. She hated asking for help. Admitting she needed assistance ranked lower than cleaning the latrines. But not nearly as low as showing the Council her weakness.

  And the chances of that happening were less than Moira suddenly casting a spell.

  The erratic dancing motion of the walls guaranteed her a bout of nausea. Spots sprinkled the edges of her vision. Taken together, it did not bode well for her remaining upright and conscious. How could constant use of the binding spell cause this reaction? Such an easy spell to cast, unlike others she knew.

  Apparently, the High Priestess could drain her own magic. Someone should have told her that wonderful fact before now and saved her from swaying like a drunken dragon.

  How embarrassing. The High Priestess, the receptacle of magic from the Goddess, couldn’t even cast a simple spell without experiencing side effects.

  “If you insist.” It appeared she needed a bed.

  Again.

  This talent for injury needed to end. Sooner rather than later.

  “Fafnir will escort me back to the Temple.” Aryana gestured at the entrance to the room only to realize no one paid her any attention. Everyone focused on either Fasolt or the Watcher. Nice to know she held so much importance.

  She shrugged. At least they couldn’t accuse her of not informing them of her intentions.

  Placing a hand against the small of her back, Fafnir urged her in front of him. She stepped to his side, slanting him a glance. Was it her imagination or did he duck his head when walking past Balthor?

  Why did he not want others to know he was Ragnor? What did he fear? Clearly he feared something or he would have stated his true name first thing upon returning to Draconia.

  What was it?

  And how would she discover it?

  Sure, she could hop into his mind, root around and uncover his fear. But she wanted him to admit his faulty reasoning on his own. Without her yanking the secret from his thoughts.

  At least he came to her rescue. And was currently making an effort to escort her out of the cave.

  They needed to talk. That was one thing Fafnir said true.

  Right after she took a long nap.

  The cave opening gaped before them, a gateway to further darkness. Moonlight cast a pale glow over the ground as they stepped outside. A chill hung in the air announcing winter’s coming.

  No convenient rocks lined the cave’s entrance for her to sit upon. But tiredness dictated she sit somewhere beside the pebbly floor of the cave. Good thing she knew how to remove dirt stains from her gown.

  Ari stepped to the side of the entrance and sank to the ground. What was wrong with her? It couldn’t be all the injuries she sustained over the last few days.

  Of course not. She was the High Priestess, for Goddess’ sake. Magic ran through her veins like blood.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course. I just feel the need to sit.”

  “Uh-huh.” Fafnir squatted before her. “Try again.”

  “As if you’re some paragon of truth.”

  He licked
his lips, looked at the ground, a blush tingeing his cheeks. Bright green eyes met her gaze. “I deserved that. It’s…difficult…for me. Being back.”

  “So you lied about who you were?” He made no sense.

  “No. Yes. I lied.”

  “No?”

  He sighed. Ran a hand over his face. “I—”

  Footsteps crunched over pebbles as the Council and Annaliese walked out of the cave. Fasolt and Latham walked before them, hands tied behind their backs. Once everyone stood outside, two Council members grabbed the arms of each of the prisoners and disappeared, undoubtedly transporting them to the Council Chamber for questioning. The other two Council members nodded to her before joining their brethren in a transport.

  Annaliese knelt beside her. “What did you do?”

  “A simple spell and yet it completely drained me.”

  “She kept repeating the binding spell over and over.” Fafnir turned to Annaliese.

  “Because it is a short acting spell.” Aryana gritted her teeth. “I don’t know a long lasting spell. The Council never saw fit to share that knowledge with me.”

  Annaliese touched her arm, closing her eyes. Ari felt warmth move through her limbs as her friend sent healing pulses to determine the extent of her injuries.

  “You aren’t badly drained. Rest would do you good. Are you able to transport to the Temple on your own or do you require assistance?”

  Right when she opened her mouth to speak, Fafnir answered. “I’ll take her.”

  “I—” But her words were cut off as he touched her arm, sending them both into a transport.

  They landed in the healing room built to accommodate a dragon. The same room they had spent the night in. The same room where Ragnor visited her in her dreams.

  He brought them here? Maybe he thought the room held special memories and she’d be more likely to forgive him.

  Clearly he was insane.

  “I can transport myself.” She slammed her hands against her hips and tried not to sway.

  “I’m your mate. It’s my responsibility to see to your care.”

  “We’re not mated. I relieve you of the responsibility.”

  The door popped open, Annaliese storming inside. “What are you doing in here?”

  Both of them turned to her. Aryana gestured to Fafnir. Fafnir shrugged. “It’s the same room we were in before.”