Fire Bride

by Ava Sinclair

  And, I suddenly realize, a potentially useful one.

  “You were in the courtyard with Tythos, were you not?” I ask. “I saw you turn into a dragon.”

  Now he’s the one who looks uncomfortable.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Oh, I believe you do.” I flash him a charming smile. “Walk with me, Lord Jayx.”

  He seems hesitant to comply, but when I turn away, he is at my side.

  “Why were you and Tythos teaching those men to fight dragons?”

  He doesn’t immediately answer. “Did you ask Tythos?” he finally asks.

  “Yes. He did not want to say.”

  “He likely wants to protect you.”

  I stop and turn to Lord Jayx. “From what?”

  “My lady. You put me in an awkward position. If your lords are not being forthcoming about what we do at council, it is not my place to tell you.”

  “True,” I say. “But neither is it your place to expose your nakedness to the eyes of their mate. Should I tell them that I found you naked and rutting in my hallway, hoping to be discovered…should I comment on the fine cut of your flanks, I can only imagine how angry they would be.” I pause. “Lord Jayx, I can keep a secret if you can.”

  The handsome face clouds with anger, his expression so thunderous, it causes my heart to skip a beat. But I am determined to hold both my ground and my composure.

  “Do your lords know how incorrigible you are?” Despite his anger, I can tell he’s worried. He knows the dragon side is not rational, and that my mates would be angered to know I’d looked upon even the partial nakedness of another male.

  “Yes.” I hold his gaze. “And I can promise you that if you tell me what I want to know, I will say nothing to my lords.” I pause. “Tell me, Lord Jayx. Will the Drakoryan Empire soon face the ShadowFell?”

  He glances up and down the hall before turning his attention back to me.

  “We fear it may be so,” he says. “We are preparing. I will say no more.”

  It is only a little information, but it is enough.

  “Thank you, Lord Jayx,” I say.

  I turn to walk away.

  “Lady Lyla?”

  I turn back.

  “Yes, Lord Jayx?”

  “You are a brave, headstrong woman.” He smiles. “I hope come time to take a mate my brothers and I will find one with even half your mettle.”

  I curtsy, and to my shame, feel my face flush at the compliment.

  It is time to head towards the hall. But halfway there, I look through a window and see them on the horizon – dragons. My lords are coming home. I decide to change plans and greet them at the edge of the inland sea instead.

  Chapter 9

  IMRYTH

  My flight home is plagued with dark thoughts. I can feel them from my brother, too. Behind us, Turin glides in our wake, the bundled woman in his grasp. I feel that things have shifted, that the arrival of this small, flame-haired woman will change things for us just as surely as the horrible discovery we made in the village.

  This was not foretold. We are only allowed to bring females with the permission of the witches, who convey those names of sacrificial virgins to the village priestesses. Will this be considered defiance by the Wyrd?

  And what of Lyla? Can we keep this from her, too? I realize as soon as we enter the cave and approach the landing platform that this isn’t a possibility. I see her standing by the entrance to the tunnel. The wind is blowing through her long, waist-length hair, so light against the dark blue of her form-skimming gown. My heart lurches in my chest. Not so long ago, she was a villager. For a moment, I imagine her in similar danger, huddling terrified while the ShadowFell landed to launch their horrible attack. Just as quickly, I drive the thought from my mind. The idea of her in danger is just too terrible.

  Ahead of me, Drorgros slows. Has he seen Lyla, too? I am beside him now, slowing, and then Turin is between both of us, the bound maiden limp in his grasp. We land nearly at the same time, Turin on one foot to keep the maiden aloft. Turin lays her gently on the stone and we step as far away from her as we can before bursting into flame.

  Changing back into human form feels like being pulled into a condensed space. It is momentarily confining, and there’s a slight feeling of claustrophobia in its wake. But it passes. Turin has changed quickly, and I’m only barely oriented back to my human form when he is already heading to the prone woman. I see Lyla coming from the other direction. She has seen the woman, too, and is breaking into a run. By the time Drorgros and I arrive by her side, Lyla is helping Turin undo the belts binding the hide to the unconscious villager.

  “By the gods,” she is saying. “Who is she? What happened to her?”

  “No time,” Turin says, and when he pulls aside the wrap, we can see why. The woman is close to death. Her white skin is beyond pale, the blue veins underneath visible. Her lips are tinged with purple.

  It is Lyla who takes control. “The pools. We must get her there, now!”

  She rises, expecting to be followed. And we do. Turin scoops the woman up and we wordlessly head through the tunnels of our mountain castles until we come to the caverns that hold the regenerative pools of Fra’hir, fabled to be the finest in the empire save for those in the Mystic Mountain.

  I am grateful that there are no visitors here today, but it is close to time for the evening feast, and I expect our guests are preparing for the meal.

  “Here,” Lyla points to a pool rimmed in pinkish green rock. Turin wades in with his burden, supporting her as she floats in the water. Her red hair slowly fans out around her like an auburn cloud.

  We all watch the woman’s face, which looks like a death mask. Slowly, the ghostly pale of her skin begins to take on a more natural hue, and her purple lips become a healthy shade of pink.

  She begins to stir, her feet and hands twitching in the water. Her eyelids flutter and then open and she focuses on the man holding her. Turin smiles broadly to see her live.

  “Welcome back, my little red jewel.”

  “Lord Turin.” Lyla speaks. “It is not safe to keep her so long in the pool. Please. Let me take her to my personal chamber. I will care for her, let her rest. When she is able to talk, I’ll make sure her savior is the first Drakoryan she sees.”

  No, Lyla, I think. And she glances at me, hearing, but shakes her head, conveying that this is the only way to get Turin to relinquish this woman. She knows the Drakoryan well enough by now to recognize a male in possessive thrall, and I almost expect Turin to refuse her. But instead, he climbs from the pool, holding the woman in his arms.

  “There’s a bath in my chamber,” Lyla tells him, putting her slim hand on his arm. “I’ll see that she’s cleaned, and will clothe her in one of my own gowns.”

  She turns to us then. “You will all feast without me tonight. I would see to this woman. Make what excuse you will.”

  It is not a request. It is an order. Drorgros and I can only exchange helpless glances.

  “What just happened?” he asked.

  “Our lady took control,” I say with some irritation. “And now I’ve no doubt that we will have much to answer for before this night is over.”

  Chapter 10

  LYLA

  I don’t have to ask where she comes from. Despite her time in the pool, there’s still ash in her hair and her shift has the gray color that can’t be removed no matter how many times it’s scrubbed. Village ash.

  When Turin was lowering this woman into the pool, I could see that she was badly bruised. The pool erased the marks, but she has the haunted look of someone bruised in places our pool can’t heal.

  She is silent as I take her to the edge of the bathing pool in my room. “May I take this?” I ask, lifting the shoulder of her gown. She doesn’t answer, but offers no objection when I slide the shift down and off.

  She has firm high breasts and a long, narrow waist for such a small woman. Her hips are pleasantly flared, the thatch of r
ed between her legs as bright as the hair on her head. Her legs are the sturdy, shapely legs of a villager used to the kind of work I used to do. Her arms are lean and well-muscled.

  I help her into the pool and ask her to sit. I could send for Beti, but don’t. I find that I want to care for this woman myself. She stares straight ahead as I massage scented soap into her hair, scrubbing gently to release the ash. I wash her body, too, the skin so soft, so smooth, that I gain a new appreciation for why my lords love the curved landscape of a soft female form.

  When I rinse her hair, she sighs a little, her first sign of anything resembling pleasure. I help her from the pool and bundle her in a wrap while I go to find something for her to wear. I want to put her in something pretty, something that would once have brought a smile to her pretty face.

  Green. That was the color of the first gown I wore here, and it will be hers, too. Of course, it’s not the gown given to me after Tythos took my virginity. Green is his dragon color, and the gowns worn on Claiming Day are never worn again. This is a different gown, made of soft fabric. It’s forest green with emerald trim.

  “Do you like it?” I ask, holding it out to the naked woman. She stares and says nothing.

  “You’ll look perfect.” I raise her to standing and take the wrap. I lower the gown over her head, guide her arm through the holes. She stares at the sleeve, as if trying to understand how it got there. It hurts me to see her still so disoriented. When she’s dressed, I lead her to my dressing table and sit her on the velvet cushion in front of the mirror. I pick up a brush and move behind her to remove the knots from her tangle of red hair.

  “Dead.”

  I look up, jarred by the sound of her voice. She’s staring at me in the reflection.

  “All dead.” Her light voice is monotone. “My mother. My father. My two brothers. My gran….” She shudders. “The younger women…they took them all away.”

  I move to the side of the bench and put the brush back on the table. She’s trembling. I take her hand. “Who took them?”

  “The black dragon.” She begins to cry. “He had a…cage. A round cage, woven…of iron.” She wipes tears away with her trembling hand. “It was night. I’d gone out to make water when it came. It landed to the left of the village. Our house was closest. He sniffed the air. His eyes were so red. He took the roof, looked inside. He plucked out my sister. She screamed as he put her in his cage. Then he…” She covers her face with his hands. “He…he…” She begins to sob. “My family. They were slaughtered.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “I ran. From house to house. I didn’t look back. In the village square, I hid by the well. As it came closer, I climbed inside. I lowered myself with the rope. I could hear it all—women screaming as they were taken to the cage, their wails as they watched their families slaughtered. And then when the screams stopped, the well above me shattered. The timber from the roof fell in, just missing me. I clung to it. Then came the heat, the fire. The dragon was burning the village. By then all were dead. The last thing I saw through the smoke was the dragon flying over with the cage. He had all the young women of my village. My sister…all of them.”

  “How long were you down there?”

  “Days? I drank ashy water, ate moss growing on the wall. I called for help when the dragon left. When none came, I prayed for death. I thought I’d found it until that man saved me.”

  I pick up the brush again and run it through her hair as she stares straight ahead.

  “What is your name?” I ask.

  “Isla.”

  “Isla, I am Lady Lyla, and you are under the protection now of House Fra’hir.” I pause. “What was the name of your village?”

  “Branlock,” she says. “But Branlock is no more.” She sheds fresh tears, and I lean over to give her a hug.

  “Isla, I was a villager, too, before I came here. And I’ll make you the same promise that was made to me when I arrived. I will let no harm come to you.”

  I feel a surge of protectiveness for Isla as cries herself to fresh exhaustion. I let her sob, and when she has no more tears to shed, I take her to my bed. I ring for Beti. When she comes in and sees the strange woman in my bed, I know she has questions, but I am in no mood to answer them. I tell her to bring food – nectar and fruit and bread and meat and tarts. I tell her to send someone up to stoke the fire so that the room is warm.

  Beti scurries away and when she returns, I gently stir Isla awake and arrange several pillows behind her back. At first, she is reluctant to eat, but after a few bites she grabs at the food, her dignity replaced by the primal need to nourish her starving body. I allow this, keeping a wet cloth ready to clean her hands and face once she’s hurriedly consumed as much as she can hold. To the side, Beti looks on with a fretful gaze.

  And this is where I spend my evening until I hear the lords and ladies making their way through the halls to their chambers. By now, Beti has taken the platters away and Isla is again clean and sleeping. I wait, knowing who will be next through the door.

  Lord Turin enters, but to my surprise, he is not alone. The huge blonde Drakoryan is in the company of his brothers, Jayx and Xarsi. Once I let them in, it is as I am not even in the room. Their eyes are fixed on the bed, and they walk past me to gather around the woman Turin bore back from the dragon-sacked village.

  I stand by the door. The lords of Za’vol kneel by the bed, talking to Isla and one another in low voices. I feel as if I am intruding, but when I remember what Jayx said of lust in unmated males, I am loathe to leave her alone with them.

  I am so busy watching that I don’t even notice Drorgros has come in. He stands at my side and joins me in the silent observance of Isla and the protective lords hovering around her.

  “Is it safe to have them so close?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Drorgros says. “The danger to them is greater than to her. It depletes a Drakoryan to burn with such lust. That is why an unmated male will drain his passion into a willing castle maid given the chance. He shakes his head. “They fix her with the attention of a mate they seek to claim. But they have no claim, no permission.” He looks over at me. “Did she talk to you? What did she tell you?”

  “What you should have already told me, Drorgros. That the ShadowFell attacked her village. She told me other things, too—things you will want to know.”

  Drorgros nods.

  “I am tired of secrets.” I turn away so he can’t see the anger in my eyes. “I’m tired of being protected from things I have a right to know. Call your brothers. It is time we held our own council.”

  Chapter 11

  DRORGROS

  “Are you sure?”

  The news that Lyla gives us when we are together increases the sense of foreboding that followed us back from the village.

  “Yes,” she says. “The dragon took the maidens. She said they were gathered up and put in an iron cage.”

  “That explains why there were no maidens at Kenrick,” Imryth says, and as soon as the words are out, I brace myself for Lyla’s anger.

  “This has happened before? In another village?” She’d been sitting in a chair. Now she’s on her feet.

  “Lyla,” I begin.

  “No.” She storms over to where we are standing by the stone fireplace. “Do not seek to calm me. I know the ShadowFell are back, no thanks to any of you. I’ve had to find out on my own why you huddle and plot and practice fighting dragons.”

  “We only sought…” Tythos begins.

  “…to mislead me!” She is pacing now, furious. “Under the guise of protection.” She points towards the window. “But you knew all this time villages were being attacked? And what of mine?” She is crying now, ashamed of her tears and unable to stop them. “What of my mother? My aunt? My people? I am not like these other Fire Brides who have been so quick to replace their kinfolk with the Drakoryan! I will not be like those women! I will never be like them!”

  She turns away, covering her face with her hands. I l
ook helplessly to my brothers, and then we all look to Imryth, who is the only one brave enough to approach our mate when she’s like this. Fury we can handle. But tears turn us weak and confused.

  “Lyla.” He moves over and gently takes her arm. “It is not like that. We should have told you. But understand that our motivation came from a place of love and protection. You are our lady.”

  She moves away from him, wipes her tears and turns back. “Your lady?” She says the word skeptically, as if it is sour on her tongue.

  “I may have been chosen as your mate, but understand that I have not forgotten where I came from. Nor have I forgotten the ‘protection’ I received before going to Altar Rock. Shall I remind you what it was like for us who lived under your rule? So long as we gave you daughters, you allowed us land to grow food. But I’ve been there, screaming in the dark while the Drakoryans burned our fields to control what we produced. The villages grow food for you to eat. They grow women for you to take as mates, leaving our mothers to mourn. And from what I’ve learned from the other brides, should we bear daughters, you shall rip them away from us, too. Tell me, my lords, how am I different from any other villager? I am still ruled, still overruled.

  “How cruel are you, to keep news of these attacks from me, as if the people who raised and cared for me are of no consequence?” She looks from one face to another. “Monsters! If this is your notion of protection, I wish I had never been chosen.”

  “You don’t mean that.” Zelki’s tone is threatening, but Lyla is not backing down.

  “Two villages sacked. All the women taken, according to you. And the ShadowFell will not stop; you know they won’t. Branlock is not so far from my village.” She glares at us, her voice trembling with rage. “If my village falls, if my loved ones are killed, I will not breed with you. If my family dies out, yours will, too.”

  “No!” Tythos steps forward, the heat of anger flaring in his eyes. “You dare to threaten to end our bloodline?”