Tears of the Dragon

by Cyndi Friberg

  TEARS OF

  THE DRAGON

  CYNDI FRIBER

  Tears of the Dragon

  By Cyndi Friberg

  Smashwords Edition

  Tears of the Dragon, Second Edition

  Copyright © 2013 Cyndi Friberg.

  Cover art by Dar Albert

  Other Smashwords books by Cyndi Friberg:

  Taken by Storm (Beyond Ontariese 1)

  Operation Hydra (Beyond Ontariese 2)

  City of Tears (Beyond Ontariese 3)

  Crossfire (Beyond Ontariese 4)

  Consort (Beyond Ontariese 5)

  Rage and Redemption (Rebel Angels 1)

  Echoes and Embers (Rebel Angels 2)

  Splendor and Darkness (Rebel Angels 3)

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Praise for Beyond Ontariese

  Taken by Storm

  “Taken by Storm had it all–tense action, suspense, erotic sex, humor and a wildly imaginative plot. ” The Romance Studio

  “Unplug the phone and put the kids to bed; once you start reading Taken by Storm you won’t want any interruptions!” Fallen Angel Reviews

  “For a story that will delight, entertain, and keep you on the edge of your seat, I highly recommend TAKEN BY STORM and award it RRT's Perfect 10.” Romance Reviews Today

  Operation Hydra

  “I highly recommend OPERATION HYDRA…it’s one of the best science fiction romances I’ve ever read.” Perfect 10! Romance Reviews Today

  “Outstanding! This segment only whetted my appetite for more. The heat between Kyrsta and Trey could cause a nuclear meltdown” Simply Romance Reviews

  City of Tears

  “WOW! City of Tears by Cyndi Friberg is one amazing blend of science fiction at its best and romance at its hottest…” eCata Reviews

  The Legend

  Listen little children to my tale

  About a Fairy lass and human male.

  Fair Fiona frolicked through the trees

  There she felt the stir of love’s cruel tease.

  He was handsome, but could he be true?

  That’s the question left for me and you.

  Fair Fiona offered him her heart.

  And he promised they would never part.

  His hateful words soon brought her to her knees.

  “You meant no more to me than all of these,

  Who offer up themselves trying to please.”

  Fearsome Dragon planned the massacre

  But Fiona drew his eyes to her.

  “The pain of this betrayal will one day fade.”

  Then, turning to the man, this curse she made:

  “’Til the Lady finds the fate that once I sought,

  Disappointment, pain and death shall be thy lot!”

  Then from this world Fair Fiona stepped,

  And from the skies above the dragon wept.

  Prologue

  Pendragon Castle

  Northwest of Dover, England

  1213

  Fair Fiona hovered over the sleeping girl, searching her face and longing for the innocence reflected in her delicate features.

  “Is she the one?” Fearsome Dragon asked carefully.

  Floating nearer, Fiona continued to assess the newest Lady of Pendragon. Her thick eyelashes had dried into sooty spikes, and even in sleep an occasional shudder disrupted the cadence of her breathing. This was not a blissful bride.

  “I cannot be sure,” Fiona admitted.

  “Then we must remain.”

  The dragon sounded so dejected that Fiona glanced his way. A shimmering silhouette, trapped between two worlds, he was just as anxious to return to the Fairy realm as she.

  “‘You created this debacle, Fiona,’” she mimicked Oberon’s imperious tone, “‘so you will see it through.’ I have no choice, my friend. I must be certain.”

  The dragon accepted her statement with a regal nod, and Fiona wanted to scream. He should be with his mate. He should be guarding his hatchlings, but instead he stayed at her side, faithful and obedient to the end.

  A scuffling sound drew her attention to the bedchamber door. Automatically, she cloaked her presence and joined her guardian on the far side of the bed.

  Low and mournful, a groan filled the chamber. The door eased open, and Fiona started forward. Fearsome Dragon extended his wing, silently reminding her of her promise to Oberon, her father. She must release these people from her curse and interfere in their lives no longer.

  The stench of ale and unwashed flesh assailed her nostrils. Fiona fisted her hands to keep from cleansing the air. A man lumbered into the room, unsteady, obviously drunk.

  “I do not believe this!” Her musical voice was no longer audible to human ears and her eyes began to glow. “This…creature is to be her husband? This cannot be. She must love him or we will be trapped here forever!”

  “You cannot interfere. It is forbidden,” Fearsome Dragon reminded firmly. “She is his bride; this must be done.”

  Fiona shook with foreboding. The drunken oaf would brutalize his lady wife. Violence emanated from him in heated waves. This was not a gentle lover, come to woo his timid bride. This beast had come to conquer.

  Moonlight spilled through the open window, illuminating the high bed and the bride sleeping there.

  The girl stirred restlessly and the man paused beside the bed. With a soft gasp, she sat up. “Gaston…my lord. You startled me.”

  “It matters not.” His words slurred slightly, but still managed to convey authority. “You are my wife. This is your duty.”

  Rowena knelt on the bed, clutching the coverlet to her chest. “Mama told me I must… I will…” Her lips trembled. “I’m frightened, my lord.”

  He snatched the covers from her hand and jerked her forward. Fiona vibrated with fury, tortured by her choice. She could watch him molest this child or break her solemn vow.

  He ground his mouth over the girl’s in an abomination of a kiss. His hands moved over her body as she squirmed and shoved against his chest. Jerking his tunic off over his head, he thrust his erection toward his terrified bride.

  “Please,” she cried out. “Not like this. I—”

  Cutting off her protest with a vicious slap, he shoved her to her back and yanked her hips toward the edge of the bed. Rowena shrieked and flailed, her terror polluting the air, making it painful for Fiona to breathe.

  The Fairy surged past Fearsome Dragon and flew straight into Gaston’s sweaty face. He screamed as her aura seared him, but her fury was not yet appeased. She stung him again and again, driving him to the floor, while his yelps and curses filled the room.

  Pulsing with destructive energy, Fiona paused to look at the girl. She stood beside the bed, the man’s tunic balled in her hands. Though her thin body trembled with terror, defiance burned in her gaze.

  Rowena tossed the tunic at Gaston and said clearly, “You vowed to honor me, to love and cherish me! By breaking your vow, you’ve freed me from mine.”

  Fiona punctuated the girl’s claim with an especially vicious sting, very near the juncture of his thighs. He screamed and scuttled toward the door.

  “When you’re ready to treat me with kindness, sirrah, I will honor my vows to you.”

  He called her several vile names and scrambled from the room, not bothering to don his tunic.r />
  Fiona danced in the air, exhilarated by their triumph, but the girl covered her face with her hands and sank to her knees. Her soft sobs tore at Fiona’s heart until tears trailed down her own cheeks.

  “You’re safe, little one. He will not harm you. No one will harm you now.”

  Fearsome Dragon intercepted the words before they reached Rowena’s ears. Fiona glanced at him, surprised by his angry expression.

  “This bit of glamour is going to cost you,” he said. “When will you learn that rules must be obeyed?”

  “I should have let him—”

  “I didn’t say that, but your father will—”

  “My father will learn to accept me as I am, or he will never see me again,” she vowed.

  Chapter One

  Five Years Later

  He emerged from the darkness like a specter, moonlight glistening off his chain mail and the massive black horse beneath him. His hand rested upon the hilt of the lethal-looking sword strapped to his side. The gesture should not have been so intimidating, given the distance separating them, but Lady Rowena of Pendragon trembled all the same.

  “If you persist in this foolishness, I will lay siege to your castle,” the dark knight called out in strong, articulate Norman French.

  Rowena squared her shoulders and pressed her hands against the stone ledge of the battlement. She had been summoned to the forward tower some moments before by the frantic urging of one of her castle guards. One would think Satan himself had appeared at her drawbridge, not this one knight with a handful of men.

  “Pendragon Castle has never succumbed to a siege, and many have tried. You don’t frighten me!”

  “I don’t want your fear, my lady. I want your cooperation. Storming your defenses will give me no pleasure, but I’ve orders from—”

  “I understand your orders,” she interrupted. “It’s your misfortune that your needs are incompatible with mine. I cannot leave Pendragon Castle at this time.”

  “Milady.”

  Rowena glared impatiently at Farrell, her steward. He stood behind her, his expression a potent mixture of anxiety and fear. She couldn’t fathom what had him so distraught, but she stopped his interruption with an upraised hand.

  “Lower the drawbridge, so we can discuss this like civilized people,” the dark knight tried again.

  “There is nothing to discuss. You’ve requested that I accompany you on some fool’s errand, and I’ve refused. That is the end of it.”

  “Milady,” Farrell repeated more urgently. “You should—”

  “I should what? Allow myself to be duped by one of Edwin’s tricks?”

  “Lady Rowena!” The stranger’s bellow demanded her attention. “The night is chill, and I am weary of your stubbornness. Lower the bridge!”

  “If I allow you in, you will only have to leave come first light. I am not going anywhere with you.” Though shaken inside, she did her best to sound assertive. Edwin had tried all manner of intimidation over the past few weeks, but this felt different somehow.

  “You will accompany me regardless of your preference. If I must, I shall complete my mission with you bound and gagged over the back of my horse. Now open or pay the price!”

  Rowena didn’t respond well to ultimatums. “Seek shelter in the village and be off my land by Prime!”

  Not waiting to hear his response, she turned from the opening in the guard tower and shoved her way past several stunned soldiers. The long-distance conversation was only straining her voice and fraying her nerves. She descended the narrow stone steps, emerging in the lower bailey.

  “Was it wise to dismiss him out of hand?”

  Rowena glanced over her shoulder and found Farrell half a step behind her. A steward was a valued member of any castle’s staff, but Farrell was more than just her steward. He was her mentor, her advisor and her friend. “What else could I do?”

  “Invite him in, serve him mead, and explain your position.”

  She smiled and slowed her pace just a bit. “Did you hear what he said? He threatened to abduct me if I continued to refuse him. Edwin has tried some despicable things in the past, but this—”

  “Edwin did not send this man. I tried to tell you in the tower.”

  “Tried to tell me what?” Rowena faced Farrell.

  “Did you look at the message he sent you earlier? Did you study the seal before you broke it?”

  Chagrined by his gentle reproach, Rowena asked, “What of it?”

  “He claims to be Dominic of Chapstow.”

  Farrell’s tone implied she should recognize the name. Anxious energy set her in motion. They climbed the stone steps of the keep together, and she glanced at him while he pulled open the heavy door. “I remember his name, Farrell.” Stepping past him and into the great hall, Rowena moved to the hearth in the center of the room.

  “If his claim is true, you should have invited him in.”

  “Who, pray tell, is Dominic of Chapstow? And why does his name ensure him better treatment than other men?”

  “Have you heard the name William Marshal?”

  Biting back a sarcastic retort, Rowena took a moment to unfasten her ermine-trimmed cloak. She handed the garment to a passing servant then continued the conversation. “William Marshal is the regent of England, Farrell. I have heard his name a time or two.”

  “William is also the Earl of Pembroke and Lord of Chapstow Castle.”

  “Sir Dominic is William Marshal’s man?” Her heart sank. “Oh my, I should have let him in.”

  Farrell smiled but made no further comment on her blunder.

  “Edwin has me so off balance,” she whispered. “I thought only to protect what’s mine.”

  “He will not retreat, milady. He will most likely present himself again at daybreak, and I suggest you let him in. You have already introduced him to the Shrew of Pendragon, perhaps on the morrow he can meet Lady Rowena.”

  If Farrell knew how badly it stung each time she was called the Shrew of Pendragon, he’d never have repeated the unwanted title. But she carefully hid her feelings, maintaining an unshakable composure. No one must ever guess the fear concealed beneath her fire and bluster. “I pray you’re right. I don’t need another enemy.”

  “I’ll return to the tower. If Sir Dominic is still in sight, shall I send for you?”

  “Aye. What a muck I’ve made of this.”

  Inclining his head, he moved away.

  Rowena stared into the fire, which had been carefully banked for the night. The hall was quiet and clean, but it hadn’t always been so. She could still remember the neglect and disorder that greeted her five years before.

  Large iron wheels filled with costly candles hung suspended by chains from the massive oak trusses. The candles were only lit for special occasions. Their real purpose was to impress visitors. On ordinary days, smoky torches, one at each corner of the hall, provided inadequate lighting. Sprigs of lavender and mint had been scattered among the rushes covering the floor. The scent was pleasant but subtle. Numerous long tables had been dismantled and stacked against the outer walls, making room for the villeins and workmen to bed down for the night.

  Stepping away from the central hearth, Rowena moved toward the head table at the far end of the hall. The head table couldn’t be dismantled and it rested upon a low stone dais. An enormous, elaborately carved wooden chair dominated the center of the arrangement. Rowena’s eyes automatically gravitated to the chair.

  Gaston’s chair.

  But this was her hall!

  Rowena had made it hers through long hours of hard work and determination. And Edwin would not take it away, not while breath still stirred within her body.

  The door at the other end of the hall banged open, snatching Rowena from her thoughts. Farrell stood framed in the threshold.

  “Come quickly, milady,” he called. “He has breached the castle walls.”

  “What?” The word burst from her, propelled by disbelief. “’Tis impossible.”

>   Shouts and pandemonium greeted them as they reached the lower bailey. Farrell rushed on to explain that the drawbridge had been lowered without the proper order, a guard had been found dead and the portcullis had risen, seemingly of its own volition. None of it made any sense to Rowena, so she focused more closely on the scene surrounding her. Archers had manned the walls, and the castle knights were rushing about with no apparent order or direction. She scanned the area for Ludlow, the captain of the guards.

  Before she could locate him or comprehend the chaos, an eerie hush descended over the bailey. Like thick, cloying fog, the tension became palpable. She heard a horse nicker, and then the line of her best knights parted, as if directed by some unseen hand.

  Destriers were always large and intimidating, but never had Rowena seen a horse so mammoth or magnificent. Its long, glossy mane gleamed in the moonlight. Condensation rolled from its nostrils like smoke. The solid black coat made it appear as if the beast had been fashioned from the darkness itself.

  Raising her gaze to the rider, she forgot all about the horse. From the guard tower, he’d looked much as any other knight, a large man concealed beneath chain mail and a thick surcoat. But now the moonlight provided dimension and detail. Rowena felt her world tip out of balance. His metal helm was tucked beneath one massive arm while the night wind played through his long, dark hair. Even in the dense night shadows, Rowena couldn’t miss the flash of his gaze.

  “Dominic of Chapstow is also called Undaunted,” Farrell whispered from beside her.