After leaving her evening meal at the door, the guard returned to his post, bored and disinterested. In minutes, she heard his snores and began to gather items from around the cabin to be covered by the blanket and disguise her absence. The decoy looked convincing, especially in the light of a candle, and Daynel carefully pulled herself through the small window. In the past, she had hated her size. Her family had teased her for years, even her younger male cousins, about her tiny stature. She had been accused being one of the faerie-folk or a wood-nymph, and not a human being. Günter warned them on multiple occasions that what she lacked in height, she made up for in attitude. She proved him right by leaving each of her male cousins at one time or another with either a swollen lip or a blackened eye. Even her twin brothers, large as they were, had tasted her temper after they teased her, and had been forced to limp painfully out of the room on more than on occasion.
This evening, she thanked the gods for her size, grateful that her small stature allowed her the means to squeeze through the window. She shimmied, unnoticed along the back edging of the ship’s broad stern and across the starboard side to where she climbed into a longboat. Gritting her teeth, she struggled with the tight lines holding the craft in place. The splash would be heard clearly if she was not careful! Again, she lifted a prayer to the gods for help…actually, it came across more as a demand. And they answered!
A call from the ship’s mast alerted the crew to an upcoming storm and the men began to maneuver quickly to secure the hatches and tie down anything loose. Daynel crouched fearfully in the bottom of the small vessel as the storm quickly rode over the ship, the shouts of the gods thundering around her as a fury of lightning bolts were cast into a rolling sea. Lightning struck the main mast, lighting it in flames along with the haphazardly wrapped sails. A loud creak was heard as one of the ropes gave way and the longboat fell to the open sea. Daynel clutched the benches, flattening herself as the barque was tossed helplessly in the waves. Her stomach churned sickly as she was pitched about in the swells, and her body ached with cold and fear. Hours passed before the sea calmed and a soft rain began to fall. Daynel turned to her back to face the sky, opening her mouth to allow the sweet water to wet her parched, salty lips. She closed her eyes and thanked the gods for her escape, surprised to realize that she was sincere in her prayer. The gods, or at least her prayers, had become her companions and offered her comfort as the sea turned to a gentle rocking, like that of a mother holding a child. In moments, the exhausted woman fell into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
A shadow fell across her face, blocking the warm heat from the sun. Daynel blinked, opening her salt-crusted eyes painfully as she tried to focus on the face of the woman looking down at her.
“She lives!” the woman called out, waving her arms in the direction of a hill. Daynel wrinkled her brow, unable to pull herself up to sit. Her arm rested at her side, bent strangely.
“My boat…where is…oh…” Daynel groaned, clutching the broken limb.
“Silence, child. We will take you to the Healer. Your craft was destroyed on the rocks off shore. The gods just have had us watching for you so that you did not drown once washed to safety,” an older man said.
“How long have I been here? Why did no one try to awaken me?” Daynel asked, accepting a water skin.
“We are forbidden to awaken the Others,” the woman said, wiping Daynel’s face with a wet cloth. “Those who come here by accident must awaken themselves.”
“Who are the Others? As for awakening myself, that is ridiculous. I could have died!” Daynel said sharply, looking around her. The people stared at her in astonishment.
“The Others are those who are not one of us. We are the followers of the Dragon Priesthood. As for you dying, of course you could have, and that would have been by the will of the gods, not ours.”
“Who in bloody hell told you such a tale?” Daynel snapped, her head aching painfully.
“This island houses one of the temples belonging to the Dragon Priests, and we serve and obey their commands. Now that you have awakened on your own, we may care for you,” the older man explained. “Bring a cart so we may take her for healing.”
“I must find a ship and be returned to my home. My kingdom is in grave danger.”
“We have no ships. Very few come here and all are destroyed in the surf. It must have been the gods’ destiny for you to arrive unscathed.”
“I would not call this unscathed,” she hissed, clutching her arm to her side. “The gods and I will be having a little talk about this detour later.” She saw a cart coming toward them. “No carts. I can walk and…oh, my…” Daynel groaned, suddenly realizing that her right leg was also injured. The gods were making certain that she was not leaving this place any time soon; that was for sure. Well, they had better be prepared for the earful that she planned to subject them to when she felt stronger!
Daynel gritted her teeth as she was placed in the small wagon and taken up a long, narrow road to the base of a mountain. There, she was given more water and fruit, and then watched in astonishment as her rescuers turned silently and left.
“Where are you going? Don’t leave me alone!” Daynel called out. “Come back, please!”
“You are in the hands of the gods, now. We have done our duty. May they be merciful to you this day, nonbeliever.”
Daynel’s eyes filled with tears, unknowing if the stinging in her eyes was the product of fear, anger, or pain arising from her injured limbs. With her right ankle possibly broken, she knew she could not transport herself to the building that rested atop the steep mountain, nor could she return to a village of people who would not dare to defy their priesthood’s instructions. How could people allow themselves to be led so blindly as sheep to slaughter?
“It is about faith and trust, daughter,” a voice said from behind her. She turned sharply to face a weathered old man adorned in a long, gray beard and dressed in a magenta robe. “Their obedience shows that they have faith in their gods and trust those appointed as leaders. We have been expecting you.”
“Who are you? How did you know what I was thinking? Are you able to read thoughts? And expecting me?” Daynel babbled, confused and more than a little frightened.
“Have peace, child. I will not harm you. I am called the Healer. Your questions are the same as all the Other nonbelievers who have come to us. As for expecting you,” he bowed graciously, “we were told that a chosen one was coming so that we might prepare.”
“Chosen? Who told you and where…”
Her words were interrupted as a large shadow blocked the sun behind her. Slowly she turned, mouth gaping open, to stare into the violet eyes of the largest man she had ever seen. She knew him. He was no longer a dream. Yet, in the reality of this world, he was immense and frightening.
“Draiken?” Daynel whispered, trembling. Silently, he nodded, his hand reaching to carefully scoop her out of the cart and into his arms. She felt like an infant in them, so tiny and powerless, and also safe. He was warm and hard, and she could feel his heartbeat next to her ear.
“Healer, meet me in my chambers. This one is mine.”
“Yes, Master,” the elderly man bowed, not meeting Draiken’s eyes.
“Fear not, beloved, you are safe now,” Draiken whispered, his hot breath causing shivers to travel the length of Daynel’s spine. He began the walk up the mountain path, holding her snugly as though she were a precious, fragile gift.
“Can you truly fly?” Daynel asked woozily, the pain from her fractured limbs overtaking her wits.
“I fly in your dreams, little one. Allow the dreams to take over. Give into the pain, sweet child,” Draiken said, seeing the struggle on her face. “Use it to enter through the Gates of the gods.”
Daynel felt herself slump into the blackness of the unconscious, her thoughts sipping at the fountains of a memory long forgotten. Draiken was by her side, in his majestic glory with wings fully spread behind him. Ahead of them crouched a ti
ny creature, covered with sharp spines and hissing with anger.
“He is a child of pain. Lift him into your arms,” Draiken ordered. Without hesitating, Daynel obeyed, wincing as the sharp pins dug into the flesh of her right arm. The creature spread its wings, blowing fire on her limb in a demand to be released. With a loud yelp, she dropped it, rubbing the offended limb as the creature waddled away. Daynel looked to Draiken in confusion.
“You are not yet ready to embrace pain. Fear not, it will come in time.”
“Who are you?” Daynel asked, her mind floating between worlds.
“I am your guide, your protector, your priest…I am all you need to be complete. But you must release yourself completely to me before you can make the claim to being my mate.”
“But we already…I mean…”
“I took your innocence in the world of dreams, but still have yet to do so in the world of flesh. Now sleep, beloved. The days ahead of you will be difficult ones.”
Daynel felt her eyelids drooping, the agonizing pain to her arm unyielding even in sleep. Her leg also throbbed, but in a lesser degree. She felt something cool dripping between her teeth, followed by the numbing of her mouth and throat.
“No,” she whispered aloud. “No. I don’t want Sleepfeld.”
“Shhh, I have to set your arm and you need to be still,” a voice from outside her head stated. “The gods do not wish you to be healed immediately, so I must do my work.”
“No…please…” Daynel struggled, unable to call out when he aggressively pulled the broken bones apart from one another and then set them together again. He bound them firmly between two narrow planks of woods and wrapped strips of cloth around them to hold the planks in place. Satisfied with the splint, he proceeded to wrap the injured ankle in a similar brace. Daynel, in her drugged state, heard the instructions being left by the Healer, protesting them in silence since her mouth could not gather the ability to speak the words. She heard Draiken respond, announcing that he, alone, would care for all her needs.
“I don’t need a nursemaid,” she finally rasped out, barely audible if not for the stillness of the room several hours later.
Draiken sat next to a warm fire, reading. He looked up and walked to her side. “Did you say something, my love?”
“Not. Your. Love,” Daynel forced, her voice refusing to cooperate with her mind. For that reason alone, she loathed Sleepfeld. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”
“No? Then how are you to care for yourself while you heal?” Draiken lifted a dark eyebrow, having anticipated a stubborn response from the obstinate patient.
“I will manage,” Daynel croaked out, attempting to place herself in a sitting position. She groaned as pain slashed from her wrist and into her neck, and she clutched her injured arm with her free hand.
“I would be very interested to see how you shall do so. Please,” he stepped away from the bed, “demonstrate.”
Daynel glared in his direction, still unable to focus clearly. As Günter had always said, her stubborn nature outweighed her common sense, and she swung her legs to the edge of the bed and pushed herself to sit using her good arm. Chin high, she stood—and crumbled instantly to the floor.
Draiken squatted next to her, his expression more of amusement than concern. “Let me know when you are ready to ask for help. I will be right here.”
Daynel said nothing, chomping back the curse words that she so dearly wished to expel. She was certain that this man would not tolerate any true disrespect. His demeanor demanded nothing less than honor. Ruefully, she also realized that Günter and her father would fully approve of him as her mate. Well, he would have to be more than a handsome sight to win her heart, she decided. She relaxed her mind and imagined fire consuming the book he had been reading.
Draiken’s head snapped to where the flame suddenly erupted. He snapped his fingers and vanquished it, returning the book to its normal state. The frown that met Daynel’s eyes was one she would remember for eternity.
“Do not ever attempt to use the power on or around me again. The consequences will not be worth the inconvenience you cause me. Is this understood?”
“If you have so much power, why do you not just heal me?” Daynel said saucily, pressing her back against the frame of the bed and rubbing her aching leg.
“Because I wish you to learn dependence upon me. Your nature demands that trust must be earned, hence, I am taking this opportunity to do so.”
“You lie. You just wish to keep me captive. You are no better than Ethan!”
Draiken stood and stepped back, spreading his hands. Daynel yelped as she felt her body lifted from the floor and suspended in mid-air. Her limbs felt as though they were held firmly by dozens of hands, disabling her ability to flail.
“Do you wish to call me a liar again, beloved?” Draiken asked, twisting his finger. Daynel released another squeak as she was turned to face the floor and her body was bent in half, forcing her tiny bottom to protrude the highest. Invisible hands peeled the cotton undergarments from her, exposing her naked backside to Draiken’s watchful eyes.
“Nooo! Stop this humiliation! I command you!” Daynel yelled out, only able to move her head and clench the cheeks of her bare bottom. Draiken reached up, running his large hand over her flesh as he continued to look into her stricken face.
“You command me? No, beloved, I am your lord now. And this,” he smacked his hand soundly against the center of her bottom, “belongs to me to either pleasure or,” smack “punish. As of this moment,” smack! “it appears that” smack! smack! “a lesson in humility is required.”
“Let me down, you brute!” Daynel wailed, feeling the impact of his giant hand upon her tender flesh. That hand seemed to grow impossibly larger with each stroke, covering the entirety of her bottom without the need to alternate sides. It also seemed to grow impossibly hard, feeling like it was made of unbreakable wood. The clap of the impact made her believe that, indeed, it was!
“Ah, but this is where you must learn. I need not admonish you myself.” He stood away from her, tilting his head as another resounding smack covered her bottom, yielded from an unseen hand. “Nor do I need to continue in this method. You see,” he sat with his book, opening it to where he had left off, “I know how to make my power work for me.”
Daynel screeched as a switch-like sensation whipped against her bottom, followed by five more lashes, and another two smacks of the wooden hand. She yelled out, fighting back her tears, demanding her release her from her suspended state. She proclaimed her royal title and ordered that he initiate treating her as due her station. Draiken glanced up from his book, unimpressed.
“Pulling rank? My, my, but you are a slow learner. I will go get you something to eat. Think about your words while I am gone.”
Daynel screamed angrily as he departed, leaving her hanging suspended in midair, and being struck by either the switch or the wooden hand each time an inappropriate word or thought crossed either her lips or her mind. Exhausted from the pain of her injuries, her useless struggles, and the unrelenting discipline upon her poor bottom, Daynel finally ceased her fight and let her mind become silent as tears cascaded down her face.
Draiken entered the room shortly and, after placing a tray laden with food down upon a table, stood before her. Placing his hands on either side of her face, he gently kissed her lips.
“Have you learned anything today, darling?”
“Besides the fact that you are a big, bossy, brute?” Daynel asked with a sniff.
Draiken laughed. “Yes, besides that.”
“Please let me down.”
“Speak to me first. What have you learned?”
“That I am as ungrateful as a turnip, and just as bitter.”
“By the gods, that is a statement I was not expecting.” Draiken’s laugh filled the room. He lowered her back to the bed and gathered her in his arms, not bothering to adjust the undergarments to cover her scorched backside. He held water to her lips, watching as sh
e drank thirstily. “Please, enlighten me as to how you came to this epiphany.”
Daynel forced herself to relax against the expanse of his broad chest, holding her injured arm protectively. “My brother used to tell me that when I refused to accept his assistance after I was injured. His wife, Ilesbet, would try to heal me and all I did was fight her.”
“The high priestess was very patient with you for many years. She loves you very much,” Draiken said somberly, stroking pale wisps of hair from the girl’s face. “She tried to prepare you for this time, but you would not heed her.”
“You know of Ilesbet?”
“Of course? She is my priestess. And my sister.”
Chapter Nine
“Ilesbet never told me she had a brother!” Daynel stated with wide eyes.
“There is much she has not told you. She and I shared a womb. Our mother was…not in good health, and offered the gods her life in exchange for both of ours. They refused.”
“That is horrible!”
“No, you don’t understand. She lived and bore us both. I arrived first with Ilesbet wrapped around my right leg. The birthing left our mother very weak and she chose to give us up to the temple sisters to raise. It was there that our destinies were chosen.”
“Your poor mother! Did she ever get to see you?” Daynel asked, noting that he had deliberately not commented about his sire.
Draiken hesitated, unsure about how much to share with her about his past. “She visited quite often. The sisters insisted that we be given the love of a family as well as the teachings of the priesthood. When we were old enough to behave ourselves, we were permitted to visit her,” he chuckled, thinking back. “Ilesbet was known to cause quite the amount of mischief, and repeatedly left me alone to deal with it.”
Daynel smiled, finding herself snuggling deep into his warm arms. He lifted a goblet to her mouth and she sipped the sweet wine. Draiken continued after popping a fig into Daynel’s mouth.
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