“Taggart loved me,” Mia hissed as she shot Hannah a hate-filled glare.
“Ah, but he never marked ye, not once in all the times ye professed ye were his betrothed. Not once in all the times ye stood together before the council. Are ye sure he loved ye, Mia? If he loved ye, perhaps he marked ye and ye didna know it. Did ye check to be certain? Did he mark ye? Even once? I don’t detect his scent upon ye.” Wagging his finger, Sloan winked at Hannah as he rose and sidled closer to Mia.
Mia dropped her eyes and avoided Sloan’s gaze. “No, my love. He never marked me. Not once.”
Sloan frowned at Mia and jerked his head toward the corner. “Go over there until I summon ye. As usual, ye are a complete disgrace to me.”
Taking a deep breath, Sloan shrugged the tension from his shoulders and returned his features to that of a benevolent host as he turned back and extended his arm to Hannah. “Walk with me, Hannah. Ye have nothing to fear. I assure ye. I will not harm ye.”
Hannah believed that about as much as she believed she’d picked the winning lottery numbers on this week’s ticket. Pure evil radiated from the depths of Sloan’s cold, black eyes. Death reflected in his gaze.
“Mia and Taggart should’ve mated and brought forth an army of Draecna hybrids.” Sloan stroked his silver-tipped nails across the back of Hannah’s hand as they walked across the sumptuous carpet to a raised pedestal at the far corner of the room. “But instead, when Mia realized Taggart was, shall we say, a bit different, she could not bring herself to consummate the deal. I told the boy he should’ve taken her before he turned, but Taggart always did have a twisted sense of honor.”
As they walked, Hannah yearned to yank her hand out of Sloan’s moist, cloying grasp. The repeated stroke of his blackened, silver-tipped nails made her skin crawl. Gritting her teeth, she kept her eyes straight ahead and concentrated on her breathing. “I get it, Sloan. They never had sex, but they were betrothed and Mia backed out when she found Taggart was a hybrid. Is that pretty much it in a nutshell?” Hannah spat it all out in one explosive breath. Lord, she wished he’d send her back to her cell. She’d rather sit on that cold, damp floor than have him touching her skin.
“My, aren’t we a bit tense?” Sloan tapped the tips of his nails on the back of her hand until her flesh stung with every rap of his fingers.
Gritting her teeth, Hannah steeled herself against her throbbing hand and concentrated on the softly glowing Draecna egg she’d just spotted on the raised pedestal before them. Nodding toward it, she turned to Sloan. “So, is that why you stole that Draecna egg? Because you want to start your own army of Draecna?”
“Something like that.” Sloan chuckled as he released her to slide his hands beneath the Draecna egg. With a loving smile, he cradled it into his arms and hugged it against his chest. “What has Taggart taught ye of these delightful beasts? Has he told ye of all their wondrous possibilities?”
Uneasiness roiled in the pit of Hannah’s stomach and churned like an angry sea. Taggart had told her very little about the Draecna, but she couldn’t let Sloan know that. With a nod toward the rose-colored egg in Sloan’s grasp, Hannah fixed Sloan with her most convincing smile. “I know that little one needs me to be able to see the light of day.” She hoped that was true. William had needed her help to emerge from his shell, and Taggart had hinted at that when they visited the nursery at the caves.
As Sloan brought the egg closer to Hannah, the corner of his right eye twitched with an uncontrollable tick. The inner light of the egg strengthened in its intensity the nearer he brought the egg to Hannah. “Then bring forth life, Hannah. This one has waited a very long time to, how did you put it? See the light of day?”
No way. Did he think her a fool? Hannah shivered with the cold certainty that if she released that Draecna, Sloan would order her immediate execution. No matter what, that little hatchling had to stay inside that egg. Clasping her hands behind her back, Hannah shook her head. “I don’t think it’s ripe yet.”
Sloan’s face darkened as he frowned first at the egg, then back up at Hannah. “I can see its heart beating strong with every flash of the light. I can see every movement of the little beast. How much longer before it will be ready to hatch? How much longer until ye can release it?”
Making a great show of looking over the egg but taking great care not to touch it, Hannah kept her hands behind her back and racked her brain for every bit of information Taggart had ever told her. “Not much longer. I’ll be able to sense it when the time is right. I just helped hatch William, so I’m sure it won’t be too long.” That wasn’t a lie, so if Sloan’s magic enabled him to read her mind, he wouldn’t catch her in an untruth.
“Mia!” Sloan barked as he returned the egg to its velvet-cased pedestal and waved his hand to increase the heat of the warming stones.
Mia scurried to his side, her head bowed but raised enough to shoot a murderous glare in Hannah’s direction. “Yes, my love.”
“Return the guardian to her cell.”
“Corter will inquire about today’s killing hour, my love,” Mia said as her gaze darted in Hannah’s direction. Her pale eyes glittered with anticipation as the tip of her tongue snaked across her lower lip.
With a benevolent smile at Hannah and a sneer at Mia, Sloan gave a gracious shake of his head as though his audience should be grateful he deigned to give them an answer. “Don’t be an idiot, Mia. We shall suffer her to live for now, at least until I grow bored with her. Simply shift her to a different cell at the stroke of each killing hour. That will amuse Corter enough. He can pretend he’s emptying her cell. He can even hose her down if he likes.”
Mia’s shoulders slumped and she glared at Hannah from beneath her tattered hood.
“Oh and Mia,” Sloan sniffed as he pulled a lace-edged handkerchief from his gold-trimmed sleeve and pressed it to his lips. “She’s not to be tormented overly much, for if she is, I will ensure whatever happens to her is visited thrice upon you.”
“Yes, my love.”
“I dinna know what to do,” Taggart grumbled betwixt gritted teeth. He stood centered in the nursery and glared at the remaining eggs scattered in their spots upon the pedestal. His hands clenched at his sides, he focused on the eggs until he finally exploded. “Kill that damned music! By all that’s holy, I need blessed silence to figure out this impossible task.” The delicate strains of the violins faded away into the shadowed crevices of the jagged ceiling.
“Now it feels like we’re in a tomb,” Gearlach grumbled. His voice bounced against the polished gray walls and echoed across the circular cavern.
“At least it’s nice and warm down here and we can still smell the pretty flowers.” William raised his snout in the air, snorted a loud breath, and sneezed.
Inhaling a deep breath, Taggart closed his eyes. The young Draecna was right. The scent of the moon lilies calmed his nerves as the fragrance stroked his senses. Sweet and clean, like Hannah. His Hannah, who had accepted him for the monster he was and still opened both her body and soul. Shaking himself free of the intoxicating memory, he forced himself back to the present. “Septamus, what is the rite to bring them forth? What do I need to do?”
Septamus shook his head as he circled the platform, one gnarled claw waving over the softly glowing eggs. “We need your mother. She helped with the last hatching, even though it proved less than successful. She would know for certain what ye need to do to call them forth out of their shells.”
“It’s close enough to the hatching moon. Why don’t they all just come out?” William reached over and tapped his claw on one of the eggs, jumping when Gearlach thumped him on the back of his horned head.
“Stop that, boy! Are ye daft?”
William sulked as he tucked both forepaws behind his back. “I was just trying to help.”
“Well, stop it,” Gearlach snapped. “Ye’re acting just like me and ye’re supposed to be smarter than that.”
“I will not summon Mother,” Taggart insisted, rubbi
ng his chin as he studied the eggs. He hadn’t seen Mother since Mia had spurned him just before their matrimonial rites. He wasn’t in the mood to see the superior glow of I told you so gleaming in her eyes. The Goddess Isla had warned him repeatedly against an alignment with Mia’s house. Mother had despised Mia’s bloodline for centuries, and she detested Mia personally as well. She had lectured Taggart more than once against pursuing the match, even going so far as to threaten to spell him if he didn’t heed her words.
“Just because your mother was right about Mia doesna mean she’s going to make you miserable. She knows the conniving woman caused ye a great deal of humiliation and pain. The goddess willna reprimand ye for not heeding her warning.” Septamus raised his head to meet Taggart’s narrow-eyed glare. “Well, she willna remind ye o’er much. She’ll just remind ye of the need to listen to her the next time she chooses to give ye advice.” Septamus warned William away from a cluster of moon lilies with a stern jerk of his head.
Much his hybrid arse. Taggart knew better. His mother never missed an opportunity to lecture him on the error of his ways. How gullible did the ancient Draecna think he was? If they summoned his mother, the first words out of her mouth would be that she warned Taggart about that—what was it she used to call Mia?—useless herb-wielding trollop. Taggart shuddered. His mother’s insistence that Mia was nothing better than a piece of universal trash not fit to wipe the slime from her grandchildren’s behinds still echoed clearly in his mind.
“We will do this without Mother.” Taggart took a deep breath, lifted the nearest egg into his arms, and cradled it as though he held a child. Stroking the smooth surface, he concentrated on the pulsating light and listened to the thrumming heartbeat within. He wished the tenets had been more explicit. They could’ve at least recorded the steps. There had to be a way he could do this task. He would do this for Hannah. Together, the Draecna would storm Erastaed before it was too late.
The egg warmed in his arms, the play of the light sped to an excited frenzy as the little beast’s movements inside the egg became maniacal. Taggart held his breath, stroked the egg, and concentrated on the hatchling within. A cracking sound echoed through the chamber; then frantic scratching against the inside of the shell ensued as the little beast struggled to be free.
“Help him, Taggart. The magic binds the shell tight around us. That’s why Mother had to help me.” William tapped Taggart on the arm, pointing excitedly to a piece of the shell rising and falling back against the hatchling as though firmly glued in place.
“What did Mother do to help ye, William? Do ye remember what she did?” Taggart kept his concentration centered on the egg as he lowered the egg closer to William.
Shrugging his wings, William nodded toward the undulating shell and extended a hesitant claw. “She peeled the shell away and called out to me. She called me by name and told me not to be afraid. She said she wanted to meet me.”
“It canna be that simple.” Septamus frowned, edging closer to peer down at the egg in Taggart’s arms.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Taggart muttered. With a hesitant grasp, he grabbed one edge of the rising shell and gave it the slightest tug. An electrical shock jolted up his arm, burst into his shoulder, and exploded with a rupture of searing energy into the muscles of his chest.
“Son of a bitch!” Taggart stumbled backward and nearly dropped the egg as he jerked his hand away from the splintered shell.
“Wow,” William observed. “I guess that must be the protective magic.”
Rubbing his tingling fingers, Taggart shook his throbbing arm and glared at the little Draecna standing at his side. “The protective magic? Aye, it works verra well. Any more suggestions, William?”
“You forgot to call his name out, remember? Before Mother pulled away the shell, she called me by my name.”
Closing his eyes and inhaling a deep calming breath, Taggart reminded himself William was not only extremely young, he was also Hannah’s pride and joy. He must be patient. Hannah loved William. “I thought she named ye after she drew ye out of the shell. When I walked in the nursery and she held ye up before me, I distinctly remember her saying, she would call ye William.”
William shook his head with a decided frown. “Nope. Ye heard wrong. She said she thought William was a fine name. She had already called me by my name before she pulled the shell away. I heard her say it before I was born. I remember it now. ’Tis the only way the magic knew ’twas safe to release me into her arms.”
“How are ye supposed to know their names?” Gearlach asked as he looked out across all the remaining eggs.
“Listen to their whispers.” William nodded toward the egg in Taggart’s arms. “Can’t ye hear him? He’s crying out to ye even now.”
Taggart frowned at William, then eyed the rumbling egg in his arms. He didn’t hear anything other than scratching and the occasional thump accented with the odd-placed hissing growl. Hitching the egg closer up against his chest, he held his breath and leaned his head closer.
“Nostradamae.” The whispered growl murmured from the depths of the shell.
“Nostradamae,” Taggart repeated, flinching as he grabbed the cracked edge of the shell and pulled. He braced himself for another painful jolt, but instead found himself nose to nose with a moist, green snout.
The struggling hatchling pushed his head through the membrane of the egg with a pop as the rest of the shell gave way. Nostradamae purred and rubbed his slimy muzzle against Taggart’s chin as he clambered the rest of the way out of his shell.
“See? All ye had to do was call his name. Now ye’ve only got eighteen more to go.” William triumphantly bobbed his head, bouncing excitedly around Taggart.
“William, hush!” Septamus growled, drawing closer to examine the newly hatched young Draecna Taggart held in his arms. “He must also meld with each and every one of them. They must all taste of Taggart’s DNA to accelerate to the level of maturity needed.”
“Taste of Taggart’s DNA?” William asked. He glanced at the hatchling squirming on Taggart’s chest, then tugged on Septamus’s wing. “How?”
“I can hear ye both and I don’t need the additional step-by-step commentary. I need silence to accomplish this task!” Taggart shot them both a withering glare. Septamus knew better. He was an upper-level Draecna. He had even served in Taggart’s mother’s court.
Septamus bowed his head in Taggart’s direction and silenced William with a thump on the tip of his snout. “Forgive us, Taggart. Please continue your task and we will monitor your progress in the peace and quiet you require.”
Rolling the tension out of his shoulders, Taggart assumed his Draecna form. Nostradamae trilled and flapped his damp, little wings, his glowing eyes widening at Taggart’s sudden metamorphosis.
“I willna hurt ye little one. Ye will soon be nearly as big as I.” Unsheathing one of his silver-tipped claws, Taggart opened a gash in the center of his left palm. As he held his hand over the hatchling’s forehead, he allowed three drops of his blood to fall between Nostradamae’s horns in the center of his tiny, wrinkled forehead. Sending up a silent prayer for the melding to work, Taggart placed his right hand firmly atop the little Draecna’s head and concentrated his memories of the last seven hundred years. As Taggart’s right hand glowed, the blood soaked into the hatchling’s hide and disappeared as though it had never been there. Nostradamae’s physical size increased over a matter of minutes until he stood nearly as large and muscular as Taggart.
When Taggart broke the connection, the young Draecna opened his eyes. His deep voice rumbled from the depths of his broad, sparkling chest. “I am ready to battle at your side, Father. When do we leave for Erastaed?”
Taggart exhaled. Thank the heavens. The melding worked and no sign of poisoned sanity shone in the Draecna’s eyes. The tension in his chest eased a bit as he smiled at the powerful young Draecna in front of him. Then he cast a narrow-eyed glance at the rest of the eggs waiting on the warming platform. “As soon as
I awaken the rest of your siblings, Nostradamae, we leave for Erastaed.”
At least the floor of this cell caught the warmth of the afternoon sun as it beamed in from the one narrow window overhead. Hannah hugged herself away from what appeared to be a fresh bloodstain splattered across the farthest wall.
Several winged insects buzzed about her head, circling close to her eyes. Flinching, Hannah batted them away from her face. The scent of the blood must be drawing some sort of gnats or flies in through the uncovered window.
“Cease your attack, Lady Guardian. We bring word from Taggart. Ye must not release the hatchling. Your very life depends on it.”
Great. She must be losing her mind. Now she’d started hearing voices. Sitting up straighter, Hannah flattened her back against the wall and stared out into the emptiness of the cell. “Who said that?” Hannah croaked; her throat flinched as she forced the words out of her parched lips.
One of the flies buzzed in her tangled hair. “Taggart sent us to warn you. Do not release the hatchling. You will be safe quite soon.”
Hannah sat very still and prayed what the fly said was true. Her heart pounded so hard it nearly closed off her throat as she swallowed hard to control her excitement. “I already figured out not to release the hatchling. I know once I do, Sloan won’t need me anymore. But tell Taggart to hurry up. I can hear the little Draecna constantly scratching. I don’t know how much longer she’s going to be able to wait. She really wants out of her shell.”
“She?” The fly vibrated near Hannah’s ear. “Are ye certain the hatchling is a female?”
Hannah nodded, almost shaking the fly from its spot on her shoulder. “Yes. This one is a female. Her name is Esme. Why do you sound so surprised?” She struggled to tamp down her rising hysteria; she had never realized until now that the buzz of a fly could ever sound surprised.
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