Garden of Dragons (Dark Gardens Series Book 3)

by Meara Platt

  She sighed and dropped the correspondence back onto her lap. He probably addressed all his female acquaintances in similar fashion. He was a rakehell, after all, and rakehells addressed their women intimately. But she was not one of his women, so to speak, she was his enemy. She couldn’t possibly be special to him. Could she?

  Determined to shake off her gloom, she neatly folded the letter and stuck it into the sleeve of her gown. It was time to tend to the business of the day. He had entrusted her with the management of Harleigh, after all. Small comfort, but he would not have bestowed so lavish an honor upon just anyone.

  She decided her first order of business would be to organize the ledgers. Saron, thinking to return today, must have left them strewn about. She hurried into the study, more out of curiosity than diligence, and found the ledgers piled one atop the other in perfect order.

  Was he always this meticulous?

  Unwilling to leave the room as yet, she sank into a chair and closed her eyes.

  Immediately, she felt his presence, detected his pleasant, male scent against the leather seat back. She opened her eyes, expecting to see him standing before her, but he wasn’t there.

  Where was he?

  *

  “Your Grace! We hadn’t expected you back so soon.” Sir John Melford, Saron’s capable solicitor, rushed to greet him. “Pardon my saying, but you look spent. You must have traveled through the night.”

  Saron refused the offered chair and emitted a groaning sigh. “It begins, Melford. This battle we feared would soon unleash is about to start. Come with me. We must call upon King Cadeyrn at once.”

  “Then I won’t delay you with social prattle, for this is of great urgency. Shall I inform the Prince Regent?”

  “No, I called upon him first.” Saron liked Melford’s straightforward and thoughtful manner. “A demon portal has formed near Harleigh Hall. I sought Prinny’s permission to permanently destroy it. Others may be forming in the English countryside and must be destroyed as well.”

  Melford shook his head in obvious concern. “But how is it possible that they’re springing up everywhere? Lord Brihann and the other Dragon Lords have been contained, or so we were led to believe.”

  “Brihann has found a way out. So has Lord Bloodaxe.”

  His solicitor’s eyes rounded in alarm. “Have you told your aunt?”

  “Not yet, but I will soon, for I mean to bring her to Harleigh Hall with me and will need to take her into my confidence on this matter.”

  “Oh, dear. How did you learn of the demon portal?”

  “Anabelle came upon a lamb brutally ripped to shreds amid a circle of bluebells. The demons were still prowling close to their kill and turned on her when she accidentally stumbled upon the scene. I wasn’t in time to save her, but…” He paused and raked a hand through his hair. “She claims that Bloodaxe came to her rescue.”

  “Bloodaxe? How can this be?” Now his solicitor’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Does she know of his connection to you?”

  “No, and she still is not certain that he exists anywhere other than in her distraught mind. She’ll have to be told the truth eventually, but not yet.”

  Melford pursed his lips. “Why wait to tell her?”

  “Because she doesn’t trust me yet. Would you believe me if you knew nothing of demons and Fae and ancient prophecies?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Nor will she.” Saron moved to the bookshelf that took up all of one wall in Melford’s office and motioned for Melford to join him as the shelves slowly began to slide apart. “Those demons were Brihann’s for certain. They reeked of his foul scent. So what was Bloodaxe doing there? I cannot believe he meant to rescue Anabelle.”

  “Perhaps he meant to take her captive.” Melford shook his head and sighed. “Are you certain these were demons? Any animal could have done the killing, a dog, a wolf –”

  “I’m certain.” The shelves groaned as they opened to reveal an ink-black chasm. “The scent of Brihann’s dragon ash filled the air. Come, the Fae portal is now open.”

  Melford held him back a moment. “Is there any chance you’re mistaken, Your Grace? It could have been the scent of Fae.”

  “I know the scent of a Dragon Lord.” He smiled mirthlessly. “You forget I was their captive as a boy. No, King Cadeyrn’s scent and that of his Fae subjects is a sweet honeysuckle and would not have made Anabelle ill. This was the work of Brihann, High King of the Dragon Lords. Perhaps the Stone of Draloch will hold answers. It must have led me to Anabelle, for what purpose, I don’t know. I now fear for her safety.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “There’s a dragon crest above the entrance to Harleigh Hall that bears a remarkable likeness to the Draloch dragon.”

  “Your mark?” his solicitor asked, obviously surprised.

  “Or that of Lord Bloodaxe since we are both descended from the Draloch bloodline. At first, I thought it was a sign that Harleigh Hall was meant to be mine, but now I fear it is an omen of Bloodaxe’s intent to claim it and its inhabitants.”

  “You must warn Lady Anabelle before he uses her to construct a demon portal within Harleigh Hall. Or what if he uses her brother? Either one of them can invite a demon inside their home.”

  Saron frowned. “I’m aware of the danger, especially since Anabelle has now seen Bloodaxe. That he is able to reach her worries me. For now, she knows to keep the house secured and never walk out on her own.”

  “It isn’t enough.”

  “I know. The Fae king will have to protect her until I’m able to seal all the new demon portals.” He ran a hand raggedly through his hair again, worried that the protections he intended to put in place wouldn’t be enough.

  “Will King Cadeyrn and his Fae council be able to guard her if she doesn’t see them?”

  “They’ll send word if she’s in immediate danger. I trust Cadeyrn and his council to keep the area free of those creatures. The Fae can see demons and that’s all that matters.” Indeed, he trusted the Woodlands king and his Fae army even though the Fae were a form of demon themselves. But they differed from the Dragon Lords and their Underworld minions in one very important way. The Fae had not yet lost their souls.

  After their recent victory over the Dragon Lords, the Fae appeared to be on the mend. They’d reclaimed their lost connection to the realm of man. But Saron felt the growing tug of evil on his soul and knew his connection was slipping away. He was more at risk than ever.

  He’d promised Anabelle that he would never hurt her, but could he keep to his word? Each demon encounter drew him closer to the darkness that had claimed the Dragon Lords. How long before he reached the point of no return?

  Even these journeys into the realm of the Fae ripped at his soul. “Come, Melford, before the portal closes.”

  Saron stepped through the opening and fell into the familiar dark passageway that led to the palace of the Woodlands king. He was used to venturing into this ancient realm and never tired of the myriad stars and celestial bodies that glistened like diamonds along his travels, or the cool, astral air that slipped like wraiths between his fingers.

  Although moving through Fae portals always commenced with a stomach-lurching plunge, the ill effect never lasted long, and he was soon floating through space and time on currents that flowed as gently as a stream in the hot, lazy days of summer.

  Saron arrived within the great hall of the Fae king’s palace and was relieved to see Melford appear a short while later. His elderly solicitor seemed to have had a bumpier journey and needed a moment to regain his steady footing.

  “Greetings, Your Majesty,” Saron said as the Fae king and his beautiful queen entered the hall and took their seats on the thrones that stood beside the ancient Stone of Draloch. The stone itself was embedded in the center of the great hall, soaring to the heavens, tall and proud and eternal.

  Saron felt its soft hum echo within his ears and knew it was calling to him, for he was a Draloch and bound to this monolith,
although he had yet to learn of the purpose he was meant to fulfill.

  Within moments, more Fae entered the hall and he recognized them as the Fae king’s council.

  “It is always good to see you, Your Grace,” Cadeyrn nodded in return. “The Harleigh estate has been quiet so far. My best soldiers are guarding Lady Anabelle and her brother. I know you’ve been worried about them, but they are well.” The Fae king’s realm encompassed the Lake District, Harleigh Hall, and the lands surrounding it had been under his rule for thousands of years.

  “We have doubled the patrols,” Queen Melody added, gracing him with a warm smile that reached the emerald glow of her eyes. “There is not a moment when your Anabelle is left unguarded.”

  My Anabelle? He smiled at the remark, for Anabelle would certainly resent the thought of belonging to him in any way. Still, there was a strong attraction between them that could not be denied. However, he would make certain their attraction never went beyond a few, tame kisses. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Melody returned his smile, and in the next moment, spoke silently to him. Love controls you, Your Grace. Not the other way around. You may wish to keep your kisses tame, but neither your heart nor your lips will pay any attention.

  Saron bristled at her ability to read his thoughts. However, he merely nodded, for he was not about to question her powers. The mighty Fae king had fallen in love and married Melody, a simple vicar’s daughter who turned out to be stronger than anyone imagined. Because of their love for each other, Cadeyrn and Melody had survived the ancient Fae prophecy inscribed in the Stone of Draloch, one that foretold of Melody’s fiery death. But she hadn’t died, and it was said that their love changed the course of destiny for the Fae.

  Their victory did not subdue the Dragon Lords, however. Having lost that battle, Brihann and the others now intended to conquer the realm of man. Anabelle would be their first victim unless Saron stopped them.

  Is this why the Stone of Draloch now called to him?

  Since Saron was fluent in the language of the Fae, he quickly read the prophetic words etched in the ancient monolith.

  In darkest hour shall bloom the mortal flower

  With Fae king shall she lie, in love awakened

  For Fae king shall she die, in love eternal

  In fiery death shall she conquer the dragon’s darkness

  And in her ashes shall Fae king triumph

  To reign glorious in the Garden of Light

  Saron watched the royal pair, noting the silent exchanges between them, and the obvious affection each held for the other.

  The stone had no such obvious guiding words for him, but he was bound to this monolith and felt its inexorable pull.

  Where are you leading me?

  To Anabelle, the stone silently replied. Trust her. Only she can save your mortal soul.

  But what of her?

  Was she meant to sacrifice her life to save him?

  He’d never allow it.

  Chapter Six

  April 1817, The Lake District

  “It isn’t daybreak yet,” Saron’s aunt, Lady Penelope Blakefield, grumbled as she sat up in her bed and shaded her eyes from the gleam of the lantern Saron had just placed on her night table. They were at the White Stag Inn in the old market town of Kendal.

  “Sorry for the disturbance, darling. Couldn’t be helped.” Saron knelt beside her, approving of the spacious chamber and comfortable furnishings the innkeeper had provided for his aunt. “There was no quill pen or paper at hand to leave you a message. Didn’t want you to worry when you found me missing.”

  She blinked, obviously not quite adjusted to the lantern’s glare. “I see you’re dressed for riding. Where are you off to at this wretched hour? Or are you just returning from one of your assignations?”

  He leaned forward and pecked her slightly wrinkled cheek. “I’m riding ahead to make certain all is in readiness at Harleigh. Wouldn’t want you to suffer any discomfort upon arrival.”

  “You drag me across the whole of England at breakneck speed and only now decide to worry about my old bones?” She turned away, flicking her long gray braid over one shoulder in a brisk motion. Then, heaving a sigh, she relented and turned back to him, extending her arms. “Oh, come give us a hug. You know I can’t stay mad at you.”

  “I know, darling.”

  She patted his shoulder. “Go on, you scoundrel. Best be on your way. Melford and I will enjoy our leisurely ride to Harleigh. He makes a most delightful companion. But before you go, tell me what you’ve decided to do about Anabelle.”

  “Anabelle,” he whispered, wondering how she was faring and whether giving her unfettered management of Harleigh had been wise. He’d thought of the girl often while chasing the Dragon Lords back into their fiery Underworld realm and destroying their portals. He’d needed to think of her to anchor himself to goodness, for he’d enjoyed these battles more than he cared to admit, the scent of blood, even his own, inflaming the dark fires that burned within him.

  He moved away from his aunt’s side and stepped toward the window to gaze into the moonless night. There was nothing beyond the ebony blackness, for the stars were also lost behind a band of dark clouds. “What is there to decide about her?”

  “Everything, you stubborn man. A world of possibilities is open to you now that you’ve vanquished Brihann and Bloodaxe and their demon armies. The threat from the Dragon Lords is contained. You’ve won.”

  He grunted. “Momentary containment is not a victory.”

  “It’s a good start. Set aside your painful memories and look toward the future. Perhaps, Anabelle–”

  “There is no future for me until Gideon is properly avenged,” he said, clenching his fists. “That won’t happen until Bloodaxe is dead and his body rotting in his grave.”

  “You can’t kill him! He’s–”

  “I know what he is, Penelope! Who he is. You needn’t remind me.”

  He heard the rustling of Penelope’s sheets as she rose from the bed and came to his side. “Will you ignore the Stone of Draloch?”

  “It’s told me nothing.”

  “It’s told you to trust Anabelle. Do you think she would approve of your thirst for vengeance? Nor will the Prince Regent allow you to harm Bloodaxe. I must side with him on this matter. If he is dead, how are the Fae to maintain the fragile peace between the realms of man and demon? You know King Cadeyrn’s views on the subject, as well. He has finally secured a truce with Bloodaxe. Much as Cadeyrn admires you, he won’t allow you to interfere with that treaty.”

  “There will never be peace in our realm while Bloodaxe or any of the Dragon Lords exist. Dragon Lords kill and destroy. That’s all they know how to do. They won’t ever remain true to their word. Cadeyrn and Prinny are wrong about this. Bloodaxe and the other demon lords will never stop fighting.”

  He could see by Penelope’s expression that she was not swayed. “King Cadeyrn understands the workings of a demon mind better than any man ever will. If he trusts Bloodaxe enough to sign that pact, we must respect it.”

  The enmity between him and Bloodaxe ran too deep ever to allow them to reconcile. He intended to kill Bloodaxe and would allow nothing to interfere with his purpose. After that, he’d go after the rest of the Dragon Lords. Brihann, their High King. Mordain, part demon and part angel, but the angel Lucifer was his father, so he doubted one would find any goodness in Mordain if he were cut open. Python, had once been an elf. Necros, once a goblin.

  Saron clenched his hands to stem his frustration, not only with his aunt, but with all who thought the danger had passed. The Stone of Draloch understood the danger and was pushing him toward Anabelle, but to what end? To follow its call meant placing Anabelle’s life at risk.

  He’d lost Gideon.

  He wasn’t about to lose Anabelle.

  “The truce will never hold, Penelope. The Dragon Lords took an oath at Dragon’s Hearth. They stood together amid the circle of stones on that ink-dark night and vowed to dest
roy Fae and mankind. The great war will happen as soon as their demon armies are able to survive aboveground.”

  “When? In a thousand years? We’ll all be gone long before that happens. What matters is now. Today. You’re free to move on with your life,” she insisted. “Start afresh. Take a wife for yourself. Lord Markby must have had that in mind when he awarded you guardianship of Anabelle.”

  Saron emitted a small, wry laugh. “He expected Anabelle would shoot me dead with that infernal hunting rifle of hers. She came very close to doing it a time or two.”

  “I don’t blame her. However, her father was as much at fault in the matter as you. He ought to have considered her attachment to the place before he recklessly wagered it away. You were reckless that night, too. I’m surprised you were involved in such a high stakes game. It isn’t like you to risk so much on the turn of a card.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t usually.”

  Penelope regarded him thoughtfully. “What made you do it?”

  He propped his shoulder against the window and gazed into the cold, dark night. It wasn’t nearly as cold or dark as his heart had grown over the years. “I don’t know. Perhaps because of Anabelle.”

  “But you didn’t know her, did you?”

  “No, I’d never heard of her before that evening. Lord Harleigh whispered her name during the card game…briefly, just as the last hand was dealt. No one thought anything of it, assumed it was for luck because until that moment he’d wagered cleverly and done well. But I sensed otherwise, noticed a subtle change in him, though I did not understand exactly what it meant at the time. As the stakes rose dangerously higher, he drew his last card and softly spoke her name again. Anabelle. The next thing I knew, he’d lost the hand and I had won.”

  Penelope sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”