At least, all that distance meant I got to spend more time with my newly acquired father and siblings. Catriona hung around too, in the same boat with Quinn as I was with Darius. She seemed to click with Hudson well; apparently my fae bestie was a magnet for the quieter, shyer men of the group. My new half-brother, however, never looked at Catriona like Quinn did, just as her gaze always seemed to drift in the middle Thomas son’s direction whenever she had an idle moment.
It was a distraction I understood well.
After offerings were made at the alpha’s hall, the family brought out the body of the fallen dragon king on a thick wooden pallet. Local flowers adorned the wooden pyre, and the Thomas boys—plus a cousin whose name I’d forgotten—each carried a corner of it on their shoulders.
“We’re to follow them,” James whispered quickly in my ear before ushering me toward the procession. We fell in line behind Cynthia, who followed her sons with a black veil hiding her face and her bony hands clutched together in front of her. Leda, Hudson and Catriona took their place behind us. Slowly the rest of the funeral-goers joined the line.
“Where are we going?” I asked. “Isn’t there a service?”
“You just saw it,” James told me as we marched in tandem. “The gift giving is in shifter tradition… It takes the place of speeches and such that you might see at human funerals.”
“Oh.” I glanced back at the alpha’s hall with its doors flung open, a wreath of black roses hanging on each. “Right.”
While it felt as though everything was happening at lightning speed, in reality we had been milling around the alpha’s hall all morning as visitors arrived to pay their respects. Almost three hours had passed in the blink of an eye. I couldn’t begin to imagine how exhausted my dragon must have felt.
We followed a well-worn path for some time. Drums now echoed from the clan section of the funeral march. Like the heartbeat of the group, the music set our pace, set our tone, kept our movements as one when we left the relatively even terrain for the unforgiving raw natural landscape of the mountain. Slowly, we crossed the entire range, coming to a cliff at the far end. A narrow plateau jutted out, upon which sat an already constructed pile of wood arranged like a bonfire. I swallowed hard, realizing there would be no burial for Khalon Thomas. His sons set his body upon the wood, dressed in nothing more than a cotton shift, with coins on his eyes and the fruits of the land by his side.
With a quick glance back, I frowned. While we had a clear view of what was going to happen, the clan and anyone beyond the first, perhaps, eight rows of people wouldn’t be able to see anything. And I wondered, with a furtive look to my father, if that was the point—if we were arranged in order of importance. James was the alpha of a very powerful dragon clan. He had earned a spot behind the widow, his children behind him, but why was I so close?
My gaze darted to Darius, to his stony expression, to his set jaw and his clenched fist.
I was here because of him.
My dragon turned and marched back toward us, and Leda tugged me to one side as he passed through the crowd. I shot my half-sister a furrowed look, but she said nothing until, moments later, when Darius stalked back with a torch of flickering blue flame in hand.
“It’s Darius’s flame,” Leda whispered as the crowd closed in again. “It’s symbolic… The flame of the new alpha will take the soul of the old off to the otherworld.”
“Plus,” James cut in, “an alpha’s flame is the only flame hot enough to truly incinerate a dragon shifter’s remains and trigger the transformation.”
“Transformation?” Didn’t incinerated mean burned to ash?
* * *
“When a dragon shifter dies, it reverts to human form. The heat of an alpha’s flame is the only fire hot enough to burn a body designed to withstand high temperatures and allow the skull to reshape into dragon form.”
I looked at him in astonishment. “How is that possible?”
“Kaye, my half fae, half dragon daughter, are you really asking me how anything is possible?”
I chuckled. “I guess not.”
“The exact mechanism or magic of it, isn’t really understood. We just know that only an alpha’s fire can do it. And once the fire has consumed all of the body, burning away the human and dragon parts, when the flame finally dies out, the dragon skull will be all that remains—refined by fire.”
“The fire will burn all night. In the morning, when it has died, the clan elder will remove the skull and take it to the sacred place,” Leda explained. I bit my lip, wishing I’d known the lore already—wishing that this wasn’t all a huge learning curve for me. Not because I felt left out, but I figured I could be a better support to Darius if I actually knew what was going on.
Standing before the pyre, Darius seemed to take a moment for himself, his head bowed and his eyes closed. Behind me, silence reigned over all those in attendance, the only sound was that of the fluttering clan banners, family flags, and the unforgiving wind. When the moment passed, my dragon tossed the torch onto his father’s body. Moments later, the funeral pyre ignited, quickly engulfed by the searing blue flame. The flowers wilted to ash within seconds. The wood caught fire quickly. The body burned—without a smell, strangely enough. We all watched as the fire consumed Khalon Thomas. As I followed the smoke when it lifted away, catching on the wind, I had to wonder if there was any real stock in Leda’s explanation of the spiritual significance of the ceremony.
But the debate over whether we had souls and if there was an afterlife—it was too grand a topic for me to dwell on. Instead, I focused my mind, clearing it of everything but the passing moments, and watched until the flame reduced Darius’s father to a pile of dust. It was then that Cynthia stepped forward and reached into the fire, retracting her hand quickly with a hiss.
“The ash of the old alpha,” my father murmured. “Darius will wear it until his own alpha ceremony tomorrow.”
Cynthia smeared the black powder across Darius’s forehead, then stepped back and pressed that same hand to her heart. The fire continued to burn, but as the Thomas family made their way back toward the crowd, I assumed we weren’t going to stay and watch it die. I stepped aside, Leda and I on one side, my father, Hudson, and Catriona on the other, and bowed my head slightly as the family passed. When I lifted my gaze, I spied mourners reaching out to touch Darius as he marched through. Not once did he stop, though he did glance back, his stormy eyes searching me out. This time, I didn’t smile. I just nodded.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
“And now,” James said with a sigh, “we eat. Kaye?”
His hand on my back roused me into motion. The crowd closed ahead of us, effectively making us the last in line.
“We eat?” I said, processing it more slowly than I should have as we started to walk.
“A lot,” Hudson told me. “We eat a lot.”
“Good.” Catriona placed a hand on her stomach. “I’m starving.” Her eyes widened suddenly as her cheeks flushed. “Oh. Was that inappropriate? I just—”
“I can hear your stomach from here,” I teased, hoping to alleviate any impending panic as I linked arms with her. “Come on. I’m sure there’s something that’ll sustain you.”
Given how grand the funeral had been already, I couldn’t fathom the spread the clan would have to honor Khalon one last time. My stomach gurgled at the thought.
But before I could satisfy it, I had to find Darius. This distance, this separation, had gone on long enough. I didn’t care if it was against protocol. I didn’t care if there were other people who wanted to speak with him first. As soon as we returned to the alpha’s hall, my dragon would become mine again—and if anyone wanted to say something about it, I welcomed the challenge.
He might be the clan’s alpha-to-be, but first and foremost, he was my dragon.
And nothing was going to change that.
Chapter 2
James and Hudson was right—I’d never seen so much food in one place in all m
y life. Roasts as far as the eye could see. Mountains of mashed potatoes paired with dark leafy greens. Whole birds of every variety: turkey, chicken, pheasant, duck, raven. Fish, both raw and cooked. Even the pickiest of eaters could find something sumptuous and delicious at Khalon Thomas’s funeral feast, though that wasn’t the reason my mood had improved. Once we had all arrived back at the alpha’s hall, seating was assigned, and for the first time all day, I was placed directly at Darius’s side—and there I had been for the last hour.
Just like the first feast I’d experienced with the Sanctius clan, I sat sandwiched between Darius and Hayden. Khalon’s seat remained empty, and Quinn spent much of the meal thus far, prompting his mother to finish her plate. Darius, meanwhile, hadn’t touched much of anything, though he’d pushed everything around into a pile of goopy, green-brown mush.
Catriona was granted a seat at the head table next to Quinn, which was the only change to the seating assignments from my last meal here. The Brisbane clan, with James and my step-siblings closest to the head of the hall, occupied the table my supernatural militia once had. The Sanctius clan took up the other long tables. Supernaturals of all kinds were interspersed between the shifters. Their innate magical pulse paired with the roar of the diners gave me a bit of a headache.
Still, even the slight twinge behind my right eye couldn’t upset me. After all, there were at least a hundred people seated outside, and even more trickling down into the village below. It could have been much, much worse.
What did upset me, just a little, was the general sense of unease I’d had since I sat down. My inner voice had been relatively silent all day, perhaps in deference to the fallen alpha, but now she wouldn’t shut up, insisting I look here, there and everywhere to find the source of my discomfort. It was that feeling—like I was being watched? I couldn’t shake it. Never mind the fact that I knew I was being watched. Seated beside Darius, I was sure the eyes of every shifter and supernatural present had darted in my direction at least once since the feast began. However, the gaze that sent the hairs on the back of my neck up, that encouraged a bout of gooseflesh across my arms, hadn’t diverted. It had stayed, fixed, and wouldn’t let up.
At least, that was my working theory. If I couldn’t shake the feeling, there had to be some merit to it. Still, I did what I could to distract myself with the thousand other things going on around me. All throughout the meal, visitors approached Darius to offer whispered sympathies and subtle congratulations about his upcoming ascension to the Sanctius throne. When the most recent one shuffled back to his seat, I set my hand on Darius’s forearm, smiling softly when his weary gaze slowly turned to me.
“Hey.” I gave a little squeeze. “You doing okay?”
“Been better.”
“I believe that.” His world was in the process of spinning upside-down. Of course, he’d been better. Still, there was a tightness in his mouth area, one I’d noticed since we sat down, that was tough to ignore. “Anything in particular being especially bothersome?”
“My uncle should be here,” he said tightly, his voice lowering. In my peripheral, I caught Hayden glance our way, but he said nothing, glumly stabbing at his pile of buttery mashed potatoes instead.
“Uncle?”
“My father’s brother, Kain,” Darius told me, his scowl prominent. “He rules another clan, and he, of all these people, should be here right now. If not for my father, then for my mother. They’ve always been good friends.”
“Maybe…” I pressed my lips together with a soft clearing of my throat. No. Offering the classic maybe something came up wouldn’t do much to soothe Darius’s warranted irritation. “We’ll deal with it later. Try not to let it get you down.”
“Ah, yes, I suppose there are a few more pressing issues to bum me out at my father’s funeral than my uncle flaking.”
I tensed, expecting his glare to fix directly on me, but he wore a bit of a half-grin instead. Nothing like his usual handsome smile, but it was enough to let me know my dragon was still in there. Somewhere. Buried deep, at least for the time being.
Just as I was about to ask Darius the nature of his father and uncle’s relationship—maybe they weren’t as close as Darius assumed—another mourner strode up to the head table, making a beeline for Darius. While normally I turned away and let Darius have his moment with the well-wisher, this time I couldn’t. As the man approached, I couldn’t get a clear reading on his supernatural background—which concerned me more than I cared to admit. There was a whiff of a combination, perhaps, yet it remained muddled in my mind’s eye. Supernatural, definitely. Shifter—maybe? There were so many different creatures in the hall that it was like their essences overwhelmed my ability to read people.
Tall, lean and moderately attractive, he wore all black, his trench coat fluttering dramatically behind him. Thick black facial hair coated his cheeks, leading up to a pair of startlingly bright, blue eyes. Cold. Distant. Like an underweight Siberian husky.
Kind of like Jasmine, actually. I bit the insides of my cheeks, not wanting to put my immense dislike for the fae onto a stranger who, for all I knew, could have been the nicest man in the world.
“My condolences, Darius Thomas,” the man said, his voice a rumbly roughness with a faint hint of nasal. I grabbed my drink and took a quick sip. What an odd combination, just like his supernatural background. Trying not to overtly stare, I eyeballed him a few seconds longer, trying to get a read—and failing.
“Thank you.” Darius shook the man’s extended hand. “Did you know my father?”
“In an age gone by,” the man remarked, holding Darius’s gaze, lips quirked in a slight smirk. “Hector. I assisted with some permit issues in Alfheim from time to time. When I’d heard that he passed, I knew I had to show my face. He was a good man. A good alpha.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Darius said, and I caught the way his gaze flicked to his mother and back again. “Kind words go far today.”
“Of course.” Hector retracted his hand, his knuckles white—as though he’d been squeezing harder than necessary. Curious. “I’ve heard many kind words about you today as well. I’m sure your father would be proud to have you fill his shoes.” Then, that icy blue stare slid over to me. “And your mate. I’ve heard nothing but positivity around the famous Kaye Allister. Truly impressive. A hybrid, is she not?”
“She is,” I answered briskly, annoyed that he spoke about me like I wasn’t there. Darius sat up a little straighter, as if sensing my anger. However, before either of us could get another word in, Hector dipped his head and stepped back.
“I didn’t mean to offend.” He looked to Darius. “Again. My deepest sympathies, but I know the Sanctius clan is in excellent hands. Thank you for your time.”
And with that, he disappeared into the hall, his black attire soon blending with the sea of mourners in similar garb. I sat back with a huff. Rude jerk.
“Ignore him,” Darius muttered, picking at the turkey drumstick on his plate, the only thing spared from his pile of mush. I watched him strip the meat off, then set it down without eating it. “How have you been with your father here? Any problems?”
“No, he’s been fantastic,” I noted, my eyes darting to the Brisbane clan table briefly. “All three of them have been great, actually.”
“Good. I invited them to stay for the alpha ceremony tomorrow, but if you wanted them gone, I could rescind the invitation.”
“Wouldn’t that be, like, political suicide?”
He shrugged, his lips lifted in that half-grin again. “A bit.”
“Well, thank you for inviting them.” They had been so helpful explaining the nuances of the alpha’s funeral today; I imagined I’d need the same sort of support tomorrow, as no one had told me what to expect yet.
From the look on Darius’s face, however, he knew exactly what to expect—and didn’t seem too pleased about it. I placed a hand on his arm again, and just as I tried to steer the conversation somewhere lighter, somewhere mor
e pleasant, a new trio of mourners wandered up to the table to speak with him.
Instantly, I lost him to the clan, but made a note that sometime later, I’d make him smile again. A real smile. One that would reach his eyes and warm my heart.
“Sorry, Kaye, we haven’t seen Darius,” Catriona told me, her head to tipped to one side, her hands full of funeral trinkets. “Last I saw, he was with you.”
“Yeah, I know. We seem to have gotten separated.” I ran a hand through my hair, finally letting it free from the restrictive braid crown Catriona had weaved it into early that morning. Thinking back to that moment when she put the final pin in place—it felt like an eternity ago. It was hard to believe so much had happened in a single day.
The feast had lasted for hours, well into the night. With food and wine provided from visiting clans and the Sanctius storerooms alike, the eating, drinking, toasting, laughing, crying went on forever. By the time the final guests departed, both local dragons and visitors alike, I wanted to collapse into a ball on the floor and sleep well into next week. However, there was still so much to do before any of us could turn in. Since my father was staying to witness the alpha ceremony tomorrow, he took control of the few Brisbane dragons who stayed behind to help with the clean-up. Leda and Hudson were on garbage patrol outside, collecting discarded plates and wrappers and whatever else people had seen fit to throw around the drunker they got. Quinn and Catriona picked through the gifts, sorting them all into keep and donate piles, and Hayden was tasked with putting Cynthia to bed.
While the woman hadn’t drunk an excessive amount of wine, she also hadn’t touched a bite of her food. The alcohol had hit her hard and fast toward the end of the funeral festivities, and the fact that everyone else was a bit cheery thanks to the booze, certainly wasn’t helping her mental state. Darius had ushered her out before he gave his thank-you-for-coming speech, but now Hayden had to make sure Cynthia actually stayed in bed. No one wanted to go searching the mountain at night for a drunk, devastated woman who probably wouldn’t want to be found.
Magic Blaze: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Shifting Magic Book 3) Page 2