Dulce's Champion (Jaguars of Brigantia Book 1)

by Lisa Daniels

  Dulce shrugged as she sat, “Of course. I didn’t want to disrupt whatever you were doing. You were so serious, I didn’t think that being a little hungry was worth dragging you away from your task.”

  When her offhanded remark was met with silence, Dulce turned to look at the shifter. His eyebrows were knit together. “I am always serious, and your health is my primary concern.”

  “If that is the case,” she pushed the chair out from under the table and stood up, “let’s go make more food. I would love to see how you do it, and I am not going to eat without you.”

  The champion’s eyes bore into her, but Dulce was not about to give in. With a sigh, he motioned for her to follow him. As they walked down the hall, he turned a little so she could hear him say, “When they said you were stubborn, this was not what I had come to expect.”

  “Who said I was stubborn?” Dulce followed him down a bright, wide hallway.

  He said nothing as they entered a large kitchen and pointed to a little chair off to the side.

  Dulce looked at the chair, then the champion. “Surely you don’t expect me to sit and do nothing while you do all of the work.”

  “You can provide the conversation while I cook.”

  “I do know how to cook, you know.”

  His eyes were passive as he looked at her, “I am not afraid of your cooking skills. For now, I prefer to keep you away from anything potentially dangerous.”

  “What?” Dulce frowned. “What are you talking about? It’s just a kitchen.”

  The champion moved around the space, picking up a few things before standing at a small island in the middle. “You have gaps in your memory, so I am not going to go into it. For now, I will only say that it is best for you to stay over there. I will attempt to keep you entertained, but be warned, I am not well suited to such tasks.”

  Dulce laughed as she sat down, “You are quite honest, aren’t you? I like you.” She watched as he looked up at her, a hint of disbelief on his face. “I wish you would at least give me your name. Constantly saying ‘champion’ or ‘hey, you’ just doesn’t sit well.”

  The champion looked torn for a moment. “Draven.”

  Dulce smiled, “See? Not so difficult, was it, Draven.” She knew that it was his real name; the seer could not imagine the champion lying about anything. “I have known a few champions in my life, but none of them were quite as serious as you. I hope that you do not hate your assignment, but I will try to make it a little less of a burden. It is the least I could do since you have agreed to help me.”

  Draven’s eyes flicked up as he cut a few vegetables. “I tried to warn them that there were champions better qualified, but my brethren were quite insistent that I… help you.”

  There was something in the way he said it that gave Dulce pause. Seers and champions often helped each other through official tasks, but something about the way he said “help you” hinted that he meant something else. Deciding to ignore it, Dulce began talking about one particular mission she had done in her early days, one that had ended with her meeting Ignacio. Draven was the perfect listener, not once interrupting her story as he prepared the meal.

  “And after that, I was quite adamant about saving him. I didn’t care that he was an assassin. He was just a cub, and one who clearly did not kill just because someone had offered to pay him. I think the term assassin is really a misnomer. They kill, but not just for money as the name suggests. Anyway, I don’t think he knew quite what to do with me after that, so he stuck around and learned as much as he could about me. It was rather charming and adorable, and I took it the wrong way. That was a very valuable lesson, one that I will never forget. Humbling, too.” As she finished the story, Dulce noticed that Draven was smiling.

  As soon as she looked at him, he looked down. “It is ready.” He lifted a large tray from the counter. “I will have to insist you eat the fresh food, and I will take the cold dish.”

  “Nonsense,” she waved a hand and moved over to try to help him by taking the pitcher.

  He was too fast. Draven’s hand slid around the handle, brushing hers out of the way. “You are a guest here. Please, after you.” He nodded toward the hall.

  With a huff, Dulce said, “I can help, you know. You shouldn’t do everything on your own.”

  Draven simply repeated, “After you.”

  Knowing that the champion was not going to change his mind, the seer turned and moved down the hall. He followed her back to her room.

  Chapter 5

  A Delicate Operation

  Dulce talked for much of the meal, with Draven proving again that he was a good listener. Occasionally, he would smile at her, but mostly he focused on eating and watching her. When she finished, Dulce stretched her arms over her head. “Wow, now that was fantastic. If you hadn’t become a champion, you could have been a fantastic chef. Gods, even the prime minister didn’t get to have meals this good. Where did you learn to cook like that?”

  Draven stood and began collecting the plates. “I am glad you enjoyed it.”

  “Who wouldn’t enjoy that? I watched you and still don’t know what you did, but you really have a gift.”

  “Would you like anything else?”

  “I would love something else, but I think I might explode if I try. Seriously, where did you learn to cook like that?”

  He responded with a fleeting smile before turning and carrying the dishes down the hall. Dulce pouted after him, wondering why he was suddenly being so reticent. He hadn’t said a word while they ate, and as she thought about it, he really hadn’t talked much while he cooked. She began collecting a few remaining dishes and the mostly empty pitcher and headed to the kitchen. As she entered the kitchen, Dulce began trying to get him to talk. She chatted about the last few missions she could remember, ones that had taken her and Darinon into Sumaria for a covert mission to monitor the Unwashed and Anilin when Ishtar was trying to decide whether or not they wanted to join the trade agreement. As she recounted the stories, Dulce felt sad, but she tried to hide it. She noticed that Draven seemed to watch her rather closely during that time, but every time she looked directly at him, his attention seemed to be focused on cleaning up.

  “Finally, Ishtar decided to pull us out, and I think that was when they sealed their fate. Both Solona and Marlyon have benefited from it, and I don’t think that anything Ishtar does now is going to make up for not being part of those early days. We were so close. I don’t think I ever saw Darinon as he was after that terrible decision.” She frowned at a stabbing pain in her chest as she began to remember the champion. Placing a hand over her heart, Dulce leaned over the table.

  A warm hand startled her as she stared at the floor. “Are you alright?”

  “I—” Her breath seemed to be getting shorter. “I don’t think so. Something is wrong.”

  “Where are you hurting?”

  Dulce tapped her hand over her heart, “Right here. It feels—” The pain happened again, and this time it felt like a knife was being twisted.

  “Dulce,” a pair of orange eyes looked into hers, “Darinon is dead. That’s why it hurts.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the physical pain ended, but the emotional pain was overwhelming. Covering her hand with her mouth, Dulce shook her head. “No, he can’t be. We have to…” She tried to remember what it was they needed to do, but an image started to form in her mind. There was an arrow jutting out of her side, and Darinon was standing in front of her, several arrows sticking out of him. He was yelling something, then he shifted and dashed away from her. Someone had grabbed her and taken her away as she had screamed after Darinon. She had never seen him again.

  The tears were nearly immediate. Dulce’s knees buckled and she began to fall. She was aware of something warm pressing against her face, but she couldn’t see anything through her tears, and she just cried into the warmth. Vaguely aware of a hand stroking her head, Dulce cried until she was too tired to cry anymore.

  “I
think that is enough for today.” The voice was soft and low. “Come back to the present.”

  Dulce’s memories began to fade a little, and she pulled away from the warmth. Wiping a hand across her face, she felt ashamed. “What happened? Look at me falling apart for no good reason.”

  A handkerchief brushed her cheeks. “It was for a very good reason, but you don’t need to worry about it for now. Come outside.”

  Dulce found herself looking up into a pair of orangish eyes. “Draven,” she murmured. “That’s your name, right?”

  He gave her a strange look then nodded. She felt him take her hand and lead her outside. Dulce kept turning around to look behind her as if that would explain why she felt so sad. Turning to look at the champion, she asked, “What happened?”

  “We can talk about that later. No, we will have to talk about that later, but for now, you need a break from it.”

  “I don’t understand. What—” She wanted to ask more questions, but as soon as she stepped outside, Dulce’s attention was absorbed in everything around her. The sun was setting, turning the sky a startling reddish-orange.

  Draven turned and looked at her. Releasing her hand, he said, “The same color as your eyes.”

  Dulce looked at him, then at the sky. Her attention was quickly turned to her legs as a few kids began to grab a hold of her trousers. “He said you would play with us,” the tallest one said. The boy was smiling up at her, and four other faces looked at her expectantly. Dulce looked up at Draven, the shock clear on her face.

  “Go ahead,” he folded his arms across his chest.

  Dulce looked down, a little unsure of herself. Crouching down, she gave them a hesitant smile. “What do you guys want to play?”

  There were several responses, but she took the diplomatic approach and the group ended up playing tag on the beach. Dulce laughed as one of the kids chased her into the water trying to tag her, and she was glad to be wearing trousers because a dress would have been far too heavy with saltwater on it. The sun was long gone when they finally stopped. Dulce waved as the kids headed home to a few huts she saw further down the beach. Walking back up to the small home, she smiled at Draven. “You should have joined us.”

  He put something down, and stood up. Giving her a weak smile, the champion ushered her into the place.

  Dulce entered, but turned just after passing through the entry way. “Will you join next time?”

  He shook his head. Gently pushing her out of the way, he closed the door. “Head on to your room. I will get you some water.” Moving passed her, he entered the kitchen. Frowning, Dulce followed him instead.

  “I would rather talk to you than go sit in my room and wait.” When he turned to look at her, she gave him a knowing look, “I’m not very good at being waited on.”

  He looked at her for a moment, then turned to the cabinet to get another glass. Without a word, he filled it and walked over to her.

  Dulce folded her arms across her chest. “You really don’t talk much, do you?”

  “No.” He gestured for her to go through the door first.

  Dulce raised an eyebrow at him, “That is not enough of an explanation. I don’t know what is going on, but you are definitely doing something to me.”

  “For you,” he quietly corrected her.

  “What do you mean for me?”

  Draven’s eyes just looked at her, no emotion in them as he watched her.

  Throwing her hands up, Dulce turned and headed to the hallway. “You will have to tell me at some point what is going on.”

  “For now, you are grieving.”

  “What?” Dulce stopped short and turned to look at him. “What do you mean grieving?”

  “Darinon,” his voice was gentle as he said it.

  Again, the image began to play in her mind. Dulce was vaguely aware of a hand on her shoulder helping her down the hall. An overwhelming sense of sorrow flooded through her, and she wasn’t aware of her surroundings. Again, something warm pressed against her, and she leaned her head against it. “He shouldn’t have died. He should have gotten out of there and sought help. They could have rescued me later. He didn’t have to die.”

  A hand stroked her hair. Balling up her fists, Dulce hit the warmth in front of her. “Darinon.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Dulce.”

  “How could I forget about Darinon? He died trying to protect me. It was my fault. I insisted on looking into the rumors instead of reporting back. He didn’t even want to go.”

  “You were wrong to go in, but his death was not your fault.”

  “It was. I should have died there, not Darinon. He was supposed to get married and have children. He wanted to have three of them, but now he can’t have any.”

  “He wanted to protect you, and he was willing to ignore everything else to succeed. How would he feel to know that he failed?”

  Dulce pulled away from the warmth, the anger rising in her. She looked up into those orange eyes. “He didn’t fail! I’m alive! I’m standing here miserable and alive, while his body is gods know where!”

  “His body was retrieved and buried beside his parents. No one told you because you were off on another mission. You refused to rest and everyone tried to protect you.”

  Dulce looked up, “His body was brought home?”

  Draven nodded.

  Dulce buried her face in his chest. “He came home. Thank the gods, he made it home.” She grabbed his shirt in her hands and pressed against Draven.

  “He did fail because you did not come out. You are still back there suffering and trying to bring him back. Two years later, you aren’t even the same person.”

  “Darinon deserved better. He deserved better.”

  “Dulce,” the voice was firm, forcing her to look up, “he didn’t die so that you can regret what happened. He would not want this for you, and you cannot continue as you have.”

  “I don’t want to continue at all! I want—” Dulce felt the world around her begin to spin. The words were lost as the world around her started to fade. Blinking, she couldn’t understand what was happening. Finally, she shut her eyes and let herself fall against Draven.

  “What have they done to you?” The voice came from somewhere far away.

  Dulce could feel herself being lifted and gently placed on her bed. Hands moved along her body with a very definite purpose, but she had no idea what that purpose was. There was a gentleness to the movements that made her feel safe, though she wanted to remember so that she could ask tomorrow.

  The situation was incredibly strange. In all of her time working for Ishtar, she had never heard of a champion that took care of a seer the way Draven was taking care of her. They weren’t butlers or servants. Champions and seers were equals, requiring the ability of each other to get through some very difficult situations. She had known almost every champion, but no one had ever mentioned Draven. It had been obvious from the moment that she met him that he was not an ordinary champion—most champions were quite affable with their seers. It made protection easier when you had an understanding with the person you were protecting. Seers and champions often kept their relationships professional. Of course they scoffed at the way the Guardian Order forbade relationships, it was so antiquated. But there was definitely a logic to it that made sense. However, by forbidding it, seers and champions knew that the Order was just creating a much bigger problem for themselves. Where the Order liked to have control over their members, champions had no such desire. Their bond work with seers was purely for survival. It was mutually beneficial, and a romantic entanglement would only make a champion and seer reckless.

  Though romance was rare between champions and seers, friendships were incredibly common. Seers would often spend time with their champions. Their families were often close too, although seers rarely married or had children. The ability of seers was not like mystics and druids, and though the ability appeared to be genetic, it rarely passed from mother to daughter, or even granddaughter. It wa
s possible for a seer to go her entire life without being known, and that was exactly what Dulce’s family had tried to do—hide her abilities from the world. Her father had tried to use her abilities to his own financial gain, while her mother had used them to terrorize their neighbors. The threat of having your child’s death detailed from the mouth of a five-year-old can be alarming. The threats both parents made to those who knew of Dulce’s ability were bound to fail eventually, and after her seventh birthday, a neighbor’s teenage son told one of the guards about the girl.

  Dulce didn’t have many memories of her parents, and she had never sought them out. Her life with the seers had been fun and she had been allowed to have friends for the first time in her life. Her parents never sent her any letters, and she would later learn that they gave up trying to get her back within the first year.

  The next decade was very enjoyable for the young girl as she learned how to use her abilities for more than just the darker parts of a person’s life. Some of the other girls could do more than her, but few were ever as accurate. And no one else had the same sunny disposition. When Dulce came of age and Ishtar called her into service to make up for the education she had been given, she was more than happy to do what they asked. She loved traveling the most, but in those early days, she was not allowed to go too far from Ishtar. The government was very guarded with their seers because it was nearly impossible to find them. When a family or woman was willing to come forward, the government always made the most of her abilities—it had been what had built the empire hundreds of years ago. They had been on the decline for several hundred years, and for the last 75 to 100 years, it seemed like the nation was on the verge of collapse. It had been a long time since they had run anything outside of the country as their territories had all revolted or earned their independence long ago. Despite all of this, Dulce had loved helping the country. For a few years, things seemed to be going well, and the nation appeared to be turning things around.