Dragon Mates: Dragon Knights (The Sea Captain's Daughter Trilogy Book 3)

by Bianca D’Arc

  Cole’s voice dropped low as he moved closer. Few dared stand this close to Hrardorr while he was eating, now that he couldn’t see. Perhaps Cole didn’t know the danger he was in…or perhaps he knew Hrardorr well enough to know that he’d never accidently chomp down on anyone, even while blind. His other senses had always been sharp—just like his mother’s. Sea dragon heritage at work, Hrardorr figured, now that he’d met a few of them and learned more about the other sense associated with his watery heritage.

  “He would live for you too,” Cole continued in that low, compelling tone. “If you let him.”

  Hrardorr finished chewing the last of his meal and swallowed. He then sighed, feeling the smoke escape his nostrils to dance upward into the air.

  “I cannot allow it. To do so would sentence him to half a life lived with half a dragon. I cannot be the dragon I once was. I’ve come to understand that, and accept it. But I can still contribute…at least for a short while longer. After that, I plan to go live among the sea dragons, if they will have me. My blindness doesn’t matter so much under water.”

  It was the first time Hrardorr had spoken of his plan aloud. It sounded good. Right, even. Though a bit cowardly. He was, after all, running away.

  “So that’s it, then? You’re just going to give up on your land and your people and head for the high seas?” Cole’s tone held injury, though why he should feel injured by Hrardorr’s plan, the dragon had no idea.

  “I can’t believe it!” Another voice joined their conversation, though how Genlitha could have snuck up on him, Hrardorr wasn’t sure. Had Cole distracted him that much? “You’re going to do exactly what Livia’s father did to her. You’re going to run off to the sea and leave the rest of us to rot. I can’t believe you, Hrardorr. I thought you better than that.”

  “It’s not the same—” he tried to argue, but Genlitha was having none of it. He’d never encountered her in a rage before, but he was certainly sensing it now.

  “It’s exactly the same!” she railed at him. “And we all know how well that turned out for Livia. Poor thing. She was so lonely before you came and befriended her. And now, you’re going to leave her too. Leave me. And Seth and Gowan… I can’t believe you. I thought you cared for us. For them.”

  He tried once again to get a word in. “I do care for them all—”

  “You have a funny way of showing it. You’re planning to leave. How is that showing how much you care?”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” Hrardorr finally said when she hadn’t talked in a few moments. “It’s not fair to any of you to saddle you with my problems. With my deficiencies. I’ll never be the dragon I was. I’ll never even be a fighting dragon again. Not the way I used to be. I can’t be what any of you want me to be.”

  “You’ll always be a fighting dragon, Hrardorr,” Genlitha’s voice was the saddest he’d ever heard. “You saved the town. You saved Gryphon Isle. And I bet you’ll save the book, too, given half a chance. Why can’t you see how much you still contribute? Why can’t you see—”

  He rounded on her, cutting off her words. “That’s exactly it! I can’t see. I can’t see anything, Genlitha. And that will never change.”

  “But you’ve proved it twice already—it doesn’t matter. Even blind, you are more dragon than most. Your contributions to your land and people are greater than any could expect.”

  “For a blind dragon, you mean.” He suspected that came out a bit sulky, but he was beyond caring at that point. His wounds had been reopened. Perhaps not physically, but the emotional pain was as raw as the day he’d lost his vision.

  “For any dragon!” she countered, but he didn’t believe her. She was just being kind. Giving him a pep talk, as she had so many times since he’d met her again here at the Southern Lair.

  How he wished he could be the dragon she’d once known, back when they were both young…

  “I should have claimed you long ago, Genlitha,” he said quietly, admitting something he never had before. “I could have loved you forever, but now…” He turned and walked toward where he knew the edge of the plateau to be. He lifted his head back over his shoulder, though he couldn’t see a thing without Seth here to be his eyes. “Now our time has passed, and it will never come again.”

  Hrardorr launched himself into the air and struck out across the sky, needing space from her—and his troubles. But her sad voice came to him, as if on the wind as he flew away.

  “You’re wrong.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The hours between meeting with the leadership and reporting back to them at lunch were filled with planning and packing. Livia spent a very memorable hour with Lady Krysta learning about hidden weapons. Krysta armed her with several ingenious contraptions that were hidden among her clothing that could become lethal with the flick of a wrist or the touch of a hidden button.

  Livia wasn’t a trained fighter, so Krysta only gave her things that would help if she had no other recourse. A bodice knife. Sheaths to go under her skirt that would hold knives. A garrote that hid in the folds of her waist cincher. Toys, Krysta had called them. Toys with deadly intent, Livia knew. Still, she felt a little safer knowing she had access to some kind of protection, should she ever need it.

  Krysta offered to train her on how to use more skilled weapons in the future, if she wished, and Livia was definitely intrigued. Krysta mentioned that she wanted to teach a female defense course in town for any woman wishing to learn some basic skills, and Livia told her how welcome such a thing would be. By the end of that session, Livia felt as if she’d made a new—and very intriguing—friend.

  Seth was probably off with Hrardorr somewhere, and Gowan was busy packing supplies he’d need for working aloft with Genlitha, so Livia took the rest of the time allotted to go back to her office in Dragonscove and write a few letters. She had some business to settle before she left town again, and she also took the opportunity to bring Mr. Stuart back up to the Lair with her.

  She’d sent word ahead through Hrardorr to make sure it was all right to invite Mr. Stuart to lunch. It was important to her that someone at the office—Mr. Stuart, in particular—know where she’d gone and why, in case her father got in touch. If Sir Drake was a spymaster for the crown, as she suspected, he needed to know Stuart—and Stuart needed to know who to send word to if he learned anything in her absence.

  As it turned out, Mr. Stuart was welcomed by the leadership, especially Drake, and much was made of his son’s contributions. They began by praising Leo and his new mate and ironing out details for the Stuart family to visit their son and his new bride as soon as the current crisis had abated. Mr. Stuart spent some time being evaluated by the leader dragons, Livia noted, though Mr. Stuart seemed oblivious to their scrutiny.

  It was Hrardorr who let her in on their verdict.

  “Lady Jenet has given her seal of approval to your Mr. Stuart, Livia,” Hrardorr told her privately, a hint of amusement in his tone, though he’d been subdued since entering the room with Seth and hadn’t said much at all. “Jenet said the son must be as pure of heart as the father to have been chosen by a dragon, and that if he’d had a stronger gift of bespeaking dragons, your Mr. Stuart would have been an easy choice for any dragon to partner.”

  “He would be humbled to hear such praise, I’m sure,” Livia told Hrardorr in return, glad to know the dragoness could also see what was so obvious to Livia. Stuart was a good man. Both her father and Livia had realized that a long time ago. But something Hrardorr had said struck her. “So does that mean Mr. Stuart is able to bespeak dragons—even faintly?”

  “The potential is there.” Hrardorr seemed to consider his words. “But it has never been developed.”

  Livia found that idea fascinating and would have asked more, but time was of the essence. She supposed they’d have time to talk about it on the journey, or after, when things settled down again. Just at that moment, she had to turn her attention to the last-minute instructions being issued by Sir Drake and
Sir Mace. Even Lady Krysta had a few more words of advice for Livia before they set off.

  Livia was to set sail on one of her father’s fastest ships, which had put into port more than a week ago. The captain and crew had already offloaded and were ready to set sail, so Livia had simply changed their destination and departure time to suit. The captain was willing to take her where she needed to go, which was something often done when they needed to get personnel from one place to another quickly.

  Although the dragons would get to Ouray faster, Livia wouldn’t be that far behind, since the distance wasn’t very great. This way, they wouldn’t all arrive together, which might also prove useful, if anyone was watching. And, if Fisk was in port, she would bet he had more than one person watching. They’d have to be on their guard at all times.

  She hadn’t had any word of her father since he’d left Gryphon Isle. Not even a routine check-in from another port. Outwardly, she didn’t show the worry she felt in her heart. Worry not just for the recovery of the book, but for her father. She felt as if she’d only just gotten him back after so many years, only to have duty pull him away from her again.

  True, he was a bit of an obstacle when she wanted to be with Seth or Gowan—or both—but she only had one father, and she was thankful for every moment with him. Even when he was being obstinate about her love life. He’d come around eventually. Of that she had no doubt. If she was meant to be with Seth and Gowan, the Mother of All would see to it…somehow.

  *

  Seth parted ways with Hrardorr well outside the city of Ouray. Seth had brought along his traveling cloak and pack, disguising himself as…himself, for lack of a better option. He was heading for the Healing Guild Hall in the center of town, where he would present himself as a journeyman healer, under the tutelage of Bronwyn, a Guild Mistress of old. It was pure luck—or perhaps divine intervention—that Bronwyn had indeed come from Ouray long ago, when the Southern Lair had put out a call for an experienced healer.

  Bronwyn had stayed in the Lair, finding a permanent home for herself there, among the dragons and knights. She’d married a pair of knights, but they’d both been killed long ago. Still, she stayed, even when her dragon family flew off to the mountains to grieve.

  Seth had been to the Guild Hall in Ouray only once before, on an errand for Bronwyn, but he was familiar enough with the place to know it was a good place to start his mission. Healers were always useful fellows and welcomed almost universally. They also generally had good hearts and compassionate minds. Most were as loyal to the crown as any knight, and if they’d heard anything untoward happening in the city, they just might tell him, given his association with the Lair.

  Seth didn’t intend to hide his origins. In fact, at the Guild Hall, he would exploit them. All would know where he came from and what he was—a son of knights called to the healing path. It wasn’t altogether unheard of that such things should happen. It was the truth, after all, though Seth had never really felt a true calling to become a healer. He’d wanted to help Bronwyn. His compassion for her had been his real motivation.

  But the Guild needn’t know that. Seth had the skills of any journeyman healer. That he had no true healing gift wasn’t something anyone would notice right off. He could play the part. He’d done it long enough in the Lair, after all.

  “This is definitely one of the ships that attacked Gryphon Isle,” Hrardorr said into Seth’s mind as he was making his way into the heart of the city.

  “How can you be certain?”

  “It carries the taste of those waters, and it contains diamond blades. I can hear the crystal shards ringing against my senses. The hull is riddled with patches, as if it had been in many battles. And it is definitely hiding. It is anchored well away from the city, but still within easy reach for smaller craft to go to and fro. Very suspicious.”

  “Have you witnessed any smaller craft?” Seth asked immediately.

  Hrardorr sent the feeling of a sigh. “Sadly, I have not. I will position myself nearby and keep watch on this vessel unless you have some other task for me.”

  “No, that’s the best place for you right now, my friend. Keep watch and alert me if you see anything come or go from that ship. I’m about to enter the Guild Hall.” Keeping Hrardorr in the loop would help the dragon feel more useful in this instance. Also, the dragon could choose to watch Seth’s doings through his eyes, if he wanted. Perhaps he would see something Seth might miss, but he’d let Hrardorr decide if he wanted to watch or not.

  “I will monitor your dealings and watch the ship,” Hrardorr replied. “I’ll also relay what I’ve found to Genlitha. She is scouting from above. Gowan has already entered the city and is making the rounds of the dockside taverns in his guise as a common sell-sword. And I’ll keep watch for Livia’s ship. She shouldn’t be too far behind us.”

  All according to plan. Seth entered the Healing Guild Hall and checked in without further comment. Things had been set in motion. Now, it was up to him to observe carefully and see what he could learn.

  *

  It had been a while since Gowan had been in a tavern of this low caliber, but it fit his persona as a sell-sword. There were a number of mercenaries sitting around the perimeter of the room, keeping their eyes on the entrances. Mercenaries learned to be wary.

  Luckily, though Gowan had never been an actual mercenary, he knew enough about them and the way they lived to pass. More than a few of the men he’d trained to fight had gone down the merc path. It wasn’t uncommon if someone wanted to travel the lands and see a bit of the world before settling down. Or if one had no other options.

  Gowan often thought his brother had probably intended for Gowan to do something similar to earn his living after being summarily dismissed from the family home. Mercenaries often died unsung and unmourned in far off lands, never to trouble their kin again. Gowan wasn’t bitter about it. He’d known for some time before it happened that his older brother wanted to be rid of him once their father passed. Gowan had prepared himself the best he could for the occasion, stashing away a bit of money for his travels and posting bags of provisions at the farthest reaches of the family lands, with trusted friends.

  He had been able to leave home knowing that he had at least some way to eat and clothes to wear until he found gainful employments. His brother had been right about one thing—the only skill Gowan had that anyone was willing to pay for was his ability to fight. But, instead of becoming a mercenary, he’d signed on with the crown army and worked his way into authority by fighting well and following orders over several years.

  The only regret he had was never being able to see his mother again. He would’ve liked for her to know what had become of him, but his brother had been adamant about cutting all ties with Gowan when he’d kicked him out those many years ago.

  After several years of steadily working his way up the ranks, Gowan had been stationed near the capital, and Genlitha had found him. After that, all his worries about earning enough to feed and clothe himself had been over. Knights were well provided for by the crown since the rest of their lives were spent in service, and the life of a knight wasn’t as easy as many believed.

  It was long patrols in the freezing cold and clouds. It was living rough and working all hours to protect the land and its people. It was fighting the horrors of skiths and the more mundane threats of soldiers and pirates. It was the always-present possibility of plunging to your death with your dragon.

  But then…there were the dragons. The lifelong partnership that went deeper than any friendship. Deeper than family. It was sharing your life with a dragon who would share her magic with you and be your constant companion. It was never being lonely again.

  Ah, yes. There was that compensation. And it made being a knight the best occupation Gowan could ever imagine. He wouldn’t trade his bond to Genlitha for anything in this world.

  Even when they were apart—like now—she was still a presence in the back of his mind. He knew she was observing the city f
rom high above, and he knew the moment she spotted Livia’s ship coming around the point.

  “She should be docking in another half hour or so,” Genlitha told Gowan. “I’ll let the others know.”

  “Good. There’s nothing in this tavern. I’m going to work my way to the next. That one’s closer to the O’Dare offices on the dock. I suppose Livia will go there first, and I want to be nearby in case she needs backup.”

  “It is a good plan. I’ll pass along the details while you make your move. If you need me, I can be there in seconds.”

  “Thanks, Gen.”

  *

  Livia made her presence known in the office, then went about arranging a small gathering for her father’s employees at a local inn that had been specifically recommended by Lady Krysta. Livia had occasionally visited Ouray’s offices before and had always taken the manager and his top staff out for a meal. This time, she had an ulterior motive.

  Lady Krysta had passed along information before Livia had left the Lair regarding a certain Jinn minstrel who played at this particular inn. The Swan was known as a middle-class sort of establishment that catered to business people and those with a few coins to spend on a good meal, well prepared. It was close enough to the office, and, in fact, many of the workers went there for lunch each day or to catch dinner after work, so it raised no suspicion when Livia suggested it.

  She also told them to knock off work early since she was hungry from traveling and they could as easily discuss the disposition of her special cargo from Gryphon Isle over a meal as in the office. Livia had taken a few of the items from her travels to the wizard’s island and brought them along to explain her unexpected arrival. To be sure, the goods she had chosen would sell better in Ouray than in Dragonscove, and this lent a great deal of credibility to her story. It would also assure a tidy profit.