by Ava Sinclair
But Lyla does not know any of this. She does not know that over the coming days, each of my brothers will take her to their beds, our shared mate. If she catches the undisguised lust in the eyes of my siblings as I make introductions, she does not show it. She’s shy, and keeps looking to me, no doubt still wondering why she is here.
“Sit,” I say. “Sit.” And she does. When Tythos tries to take a seat beside her, Zelki edges him aside and takes his place. Tension runs through me as I catch the brief flash in both their eyes.
A cheery maid walks by, bearing a tray laden with chunks of bread and meat and fruit. Zelki stands and grabs fistsful of food, placing them on a wooden slab in front of Lyla.
“You must be hungry,” he says. “Or you should be, if my brother did his job.” He smiles. “But, of course he did, or else you would not be here, wearing his color.”
“His…color?” She looks back at me. “Please, Lord Drorgros, will someone tell me what’s happening?”
“In time. But first you will eat.” I issue the order sternly. The way my brother is looking at her, she will need the strength.
“Here,” Zelki tears off a piece of meat and puts it to her lips. “Try this.” When Lyla looks questioningly in my direction, I nod that she should obey him, even as I will myself to quash the jealousy I feel as Zelki’s fingers touch her full lips.
I turn away, seeking Tythos and Imryth. Even amid the celebration, I know we must not allow ourselves to become completely distracted. The threats to our kingdom, and the empire, do not take a break. We leave Zelki to his feeding of Lyla as we huddle together.
“Congratulations, brother.” Tythos cuts his eyes in Lyla’s direction. “Is she sweet as she looks?”
“Sweeter.” I’m unable to contain my smile.
“I would have fought harder had I known she was so fair,” he quips, and although his tone his light, I can sense honesty in it.
“I hope Zelki will be gentle,” Imryth says.
“Since when has Zelki been gentle in anything?” I growl. “But don’t fret. Now that I’ve had her, even if he isn’t, she’ll know what to expect.”
I change the subject to diffuse the collective worry we all feel for Lyla, who continues to take hesitant nips of offered food from Zelki as he feeds her like a pet.
“What news from the borderlands?” I ask.
Tythos’ expression turns grave. He’s only just returned, a testament to his commitment to the Empire. Battles for first rights are brutal. He’d been scarred and tired when he departed, but he went on patrol anyway. I was hoping he’d return with good news. Now I brace myself for the worst.
“The village of Krenick, burned. All dead.”
“All?”
“I saw none alive, but storms had moved in my then. It was hard to say for certain.”
“If word gets out, and we are blamed…” His words fade away but he doesn’t need to finish them.
We have punished by fire, but only by burning fields. Not since our subjugation of humans have we killed. As their rulers, we protect, laying down barriers of flame on winter nights to keep the Wolven away, or dropping baskets of seeds or stores from the sky. We rule the humans fairly, through reward and correction, demanding the occasional female for sacrifice. The humans believe they are are consumed. We let them think that; we have no desire to make an example of any male relative who would come after his daughter or sister. They do not know the real purpose of our taking the sacrifices. They do not know that to continue our kind, we need humans as mates.
“At least Krenick is isolated,” I say. “That will keep word from getting out.” I glance over at Lyla, who still looks uncertain as she eats from Zelki’s hand. It could have been her village. “If this is the ShadowFell, it is indeed a dire sign.”
“Who else would it be?” Tythos’ tone edges into annoyance, and I understand why. He’s right. It could be no one else.
“We must fortify,” I say. “We must be vigilant.”
Tythos nods. “Yes, or else we will be blamed on top of everything else. If the humans think we are randomly killing…” His voice trails off. The implications of what has happened will require a meeting of the council. But it can wait until after the storms, until after we have all taken our mate, until after the final step, the Deepening. I turn back, watching Zelki feed Lyla, envying him the treat he will soon savor.
LYLA
My mind wants answers, but my body wants food. As much as I’d like to hold out for the former, the smell of savory meat and hot bread makes me realize how ravenous I am. I’m no stranger to hunger, but the people of my village have learned to be satisfied with little.
The man feeding me is beautiful, and while I see a resemblance to Lord Drorgros, there are differences. Even though he’s bigger, the man who identifies himself as Lord Zelki is obviously younger. Where Drorgros’ beard is longer and braided, Lord Zelki’s is cropped short. Where Drorgros’ hair is braided into one long plait, Zelki’s raven tresses hang to his shoulders. His nose is sharper, his cheekbones higher. But the eyes – those unusual eyes – are just the same save for the expression. Zelki’s eyes are bolder. His gaze makes me feel naked.
“Do you like the meat?” Zelki’s mouth curls into a smile as I swallow.
“It’s good,” I reply, flushing under his scrutiny. “Thank you.
“Try this.” Another maid walks past and he plucks what looks like a red rock from the tray. “Have you ever seen one of these?” He hands it to me. “It’s delicious.”
“You’re teasing me,” I say. “This is a stone.”
He plucks it from me. “To your kind, it might as well be.” He grips it between his hands and pulls. The hard skin breaks with an audible crack, revealing snow white fruit that smells of honey.
“My kind?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he dips two fingers into the fruit and puts it in my mouth.
“Open,” he commands, and I obey. He feeds me the fruit. It’s so sweet, so good, that I’m speechless. “This fruit is called Bride’s Melon.”
“Bride’s Melon?” I ask once I’ve swallowed. “Why?”
“I’ll show you,” he says with a wink. “Once we are alone.”
“Alone?” I wipe away the juice from my mouth. It’s left a pleasant tingle on my lips.
“Let me guess. My brother didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what? If you refer to why I’m here, he hasn’t.”
He turns. “Drorgros!” The man whose bed I awoke in looks over. Zelki commands me to stay put and leaves me on the bench as he begins conferring with this brother. I see them glance back at me, and am piqued. I know nothing beyond the fact that I am not dead, have paid for my safety with my virginity, and was cheered when I walked in. Much is being hidden from me, and after what I have faced, I am no longer afraid. Despite being told to stay seated, I rise and walk over to the men.
“Lord Drorgros,” I say. “You told me if I ate, you would give me answers.” He looks at me, obviously surprised at the forcefulness of my tone. “I want them.” Beside him, his brothers look from him to me, their expressions clearly bemused. I can tell by Drorgros’ expression that he is not used to being challenged, and now he stands, looming over me.
“So I did,” he says. “But not here. Come. We have someone who is eager to see you.”
Someone who wants to see me? It seems that every time Drorgros opens his mouth, I only end up more confused. He leads me back out of the room, only this time I am flanked by his three brothers. The room is cheering again; all around us men raise tankards and beat their muscular chests or raise their fists in encouragement. But of what?
There’s a door to the side and we walk through it. When it shuts, the cacophony from the hall is silenced. It’s a little darker in here. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I hear a female voice call my name.
“Lyla?”
I freeze. I know this voice. I turn and for a moment cannot breathe.
“Enid?” I sway as I speak her
name, and Drorgros must have been expecting my reaction, for he moves to steady me as I stare in disbelief at the woman who moves from the shadows to walk towards me.
“You’re dead,” I say, my voice quavering. “I saw …”
She takes my hands in hers. Her hands warm and very much alive. “You saw what everyone sees, Lyla. You saw what the villagers, and your mother, and the priestesses saw after you went to the rock. You saw a sacrificed being claimed by the dragon.” She smiles. “But you did not see me die, did you?”
I turn slowly to face Drorgros. “Tell me. Tell me what this means.”
“On a designated day on the Drakoryan calendar, your village sacrifices their most beautiful daughters to us…”
I shake my head. “No. We’re sacrificed to the dragons.”
He stares down at me. The other men are staring at me, too.
“The dragons claim you. In fact, they fight for that right, my dear. The one who proves strongest brings you here, to your new life, your new home…”
I step back. “You didn’t save me?” I shake my head in disbelief, tears springing to my eyes. “You had me taken?” I look wildly from one brother to the other. “You control the beasts that burn our crops, that terrorize my people, that rip beloved daughters from weeping families…?”
Drorgros’ tone is stern. “Those beasts also protect you, and gift your people with…”
But I’m not listening. I whirl on Enid. My voice is shaking as I interrupt his explanation to confront her. “How can you accept this? Do you not remember the fear? The pain? Do you not remember the sound of your mother’s weeping as you were taken to the rock?”
“Yes,” Enid says. Her serenity infuriates me, but she ignores the anger in my expression as she continues. “And when I first came and saw women from our village and others, I felt just as betrayed, just as angry. There is so much you are yet to understand, but all will be revealed to you by your mates.” She nods her head in the direction of Drorgros and his brothers.
I look at them and back at her. “Mates?” I whisper.
“Mates,” she repeats, and smiles. “The way of the Drakoryans is not our way. The men here jointly claim one woman. I belong to three brothers, and had I known how happy all of this would make me, I would have leapt into the dragon’s clasp. In the village, we get one man who may be cruel or weak or impotent. But here? We get several. You’ll never lack for attention, Lyla. You’ll never be without protection. They will supply all that you need. They are fierce, but fiercely loyal. But if you are brave, my friend, that bravery will be rewarded. The bonds you form…”
Her words die away and she drops her eyes and steps back, as if fearing to reveal too much. How can she be so accepting? All this time she’s been here, alive, letting us think she was dead. At home, her mother still weeps, will always weep. So will mine. I am not assuaged.
“No!” I say, shaking my head. “This can’t be happening.” I face Drorgros. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We do things in our own time, our own way,” comes his maddening answer. He puts a hand to my face and looks into my eyes. “You are strong, and curious. But you are, little one, also outnumbered. My brothers and I fought for you, and we will claim you in order of our victories. You must face this, just as you faced the dragon. Surely a woman who stared the beast in the eye can face men.”
“How do you know I looked it in the eye?” I ask. “Do they talk to you, your … dragons?” I spit the word, like bitter venom, from my mouth.
A shadow of a smile crosses his face. “Always.”
“Show me.” It’s insane, I know. But I want to see. “Show me the dragon.”
He ruffles my hair as if I am a child. “Soon enough, my little spitfire.” Around us, the others laugh. Even Enid is suppressing a smile at my demand. “For now, Zelki has another beast he’d like you to meet.”
I feel a large hand on my arm as Zelki leans down and puts his mouth to my ear. Like his brother, his breath is unnaturally warm, and despite myself I feel a shudder run down my body that is not unpleasant. “He teases you, Lyla. I’m convinced the beast in you will be more than a match for the beast in me.”
I could fight. I could run. But I am pragmatic enough to know that I have no choice. These men are using my curiosity as leverage, promising me glimpses of knowledge in exchange for my compliance. The only way to find out what I need to know is to comply, to use the only capital I have – my body.
I turn to Zelki, look right into his eyes.
“Are you taking me to your bedchamber, then?”
He grins. “Yes. But first, let me show you one of the hidden wonders of this castle.”
ZELKI
Just because I am the youngest does not mean I defer to my brothers as they expect. We are all lords, and while I respect my elder siblings, I believe myself to be the strongest, as father often observed I was. I should be leader. One day, I think, I will be.
I have burned inwardly for a mate for several moon cycles. Tythos said I should be thinking of other things, but with each claiming celebration, I felt jealousy. As I watched other females arrive in the great hall clad in the color of their conqueror, their eyes confused and skin flushed with sex glow, I dreamt of the day my brothers and I would claim our female, too.
I’d fully intended to win the battle for Lyla’s rights. I wanted to be first. I should have been first. I’d defeated both Tythos and Imryth, and was confident I would beat Drorgros, too. But I was overly confident. I depended too heavily on my strength and speed. My eldest brother used skill, allowing me to exhaust myself in combat. I did land a few mighty blows, one of which sent him reeling. But in the end, it was I who came crashing to the ground. It was I who crawled off into a cave, and curled up to heal.
Now, my time has come, and I will not spend it ruminating over a loss. I can still be the victor in all of this. I will prevail in this female’s mind as the most masterful lover. I will ruin her for the others. After tonight, she will think of me, even when she is with them.
But first, a surprise. I can tell she’s apprehensive as I lead her down a dark stairwell. We are heading deep into the castle, deeper into the mountain. The walls are damp; the candles lighting the way sputtering in the moist air. If we kept going, we would eventually reach the dungeons. I will not take her there. It is a dark place, the bone-littered floor reserved for enemies.
Instead, we turn left into a narrow passage. I take Lyla’s hand, feeling the reluctance in her gait. I do not allow her to stop. I move steadily, eager to introduce her to the hidden pleasures of the realm.
There are many pools under these mountains, but none as fine as the Pools of Fra’hir. When we enter the cavern, she stops in her tracks, her sweet little mouth a moue of surprise. I say nothing, stepping back as she takes in the towering, iridescent stalagmites that rise to border multiple pools over varying depths. Stalactites hang from the ceiling. She looks back at me.
“They remind me of teeth,” she says. “Teeth of the dragon.”
“But not as lethal.” I point to the hanging and rising points made of sediment laid down over millennia.
“They shimmer, like the dragon’s scales.”
“That dragon must have made quite an impression on you,” I say, feeling a bit jealous that she would mention him, when here with me. But she doesn’t yet understand.
“Come.” I take her hand and lead her to the pool. I kneel, touching the water. As my hand ripples the surface, tendrils of steam rise to curl above our heads.
“You’re tired?” I ask. “Still sore?” When she drops her eyes, I smile at her shyness. “There is no need to be bashful. Your sweet little sex is freshly opened. Of course you are still tender. Come. Take your gown off.”
“Why?” Bashfulness turns to trepidation.
“Because I am your mate, and I command you to obey me.”
I can see the pulse dancing in her throat. I can sense she is considering the consequences of defying my direct order. I take a
step towards her. She takes a step back.
“I could rip it from you,” I say. “But it would offend my brother. A female gets a gown representing the color of each of her mates. Should I have to tear Drorgros’ gift, he will be angered.”
She glares at me, and after a moment reaches for her shoulder, pushing the fabric from first the left and then the right. I watch as the gown slides off, leaving her naked. Her eyes are on the floor, her body flushed from her modesty. I look forward to helping her shed that modesty just as she shed the dress. But first, the pool. She needs stamina for what I have in store.
I strip now. She averts her gaze. It’s charming, and makes me want her more. I wade into the pool. “Come,” I say. “Swim with me.”
“I don’t know how to swim.”
I crook two fingers, beckoning her towards me. “I won’t let you drown. Come.”
She walks to the rim and stands there.
“It looks hotter than it is. Step in.”
Lyla glances at me skeptically and then dips her toe in. Gasping, she pulls it back, then dips it in again, sinking this time up to her foot. Her eyes meet mine and I can see the wonder in them. She has both feet in now, taking small steps.
“This is unbelievable,” she says, and smiles, forgetting her fear.
“They’re called the Revival Baths. Not every castle has them, and of the ones that do, ours are the finest. Warriors come here to heal. How do you feel?”