Dragonsteel_Shadowsword's Harem_Book One

by Rebecca Baelfire

  A danger. That term stung a little, even if it was true.

  “Who is this woman? Where do I find her?” My father got up, found a pen and pad of paper on a shelf across the room, and then sat back down.

  The horse outside gave another loud whicker.

  Kyas’s head whipped around. I jumped away from the door just as he waved his hand and it swung shut with a whoosh.

  “You ought to teach her not to eavesdrop on men, Adam…”

  His words cut off and an unnatural silence fell over the other room. Magic radiated from the closed entrance to the bedroom, so strong it seemed I should have seen a wall of white-gold light glowing there. Dragon’s magic hammered at my brain, iron-hard and unyielding. The silence felt like I was surrounded by a bubble, or perhaps as if my father and Kyas were.

  “Seriously?” Indignation and hot dislike for him burned in me. Who did that dragonspawn think he was?

  I was about to open the door—could I have done so, or was his magic holding it closed?—when the barrier disappeared, the sense of his magic decreased in intensity, and the men’s voices filtered in once more.

  “You need to be gone by nightfall, Adam. You have a long journey ahead of you even with your…truck.” He said the word truck as if it felt odd on his tongue. “She’ll be waiting for you, but she won’t stay long.”

  “Understood. Please, feel free to stay until we leave. You look exhausted. Have you slept recently? Didn’t you tell me your people sleep in the day?”

  “Yes. As the Great Dragon sleeps in daylight, so it is with his people.”

  “Then you’re welcome to stay.”

  “A dangerous idea. I can feel her hatred from here.”

  My jaw dropped. I’d forgotten, some Dragonlords could read minds. And that my father had told him to get out of his head in the hospital four years ago.

  “I will sleep when I return home,” Kyas added. “Thank you, though.”

  “We have plenty of food. At least eat something.”

  “You fuss worse than a woman.” I heard him chuckle. “I’ve already remained here too long. Tondar won’t refuse if you have some fresh carrots, though.”

  There was a rustling. “Give him a pat for me.”

  “I will.” The door to the cabin squeaked and boots sounded. “I don’t want to see you again anytime soon, human.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You humans really are too easy on your offspring. Tighten the reins on her. I mean it.”

  My hands balled into fists. How dare he!

  My father grumbled something, and the door slammed shut.

  I glared at the bedroom door, indignation and defiance building in me until my fingers tingled with magic that begged to be unleashed.

  Sleep didn’t come for me at all after Kyas left.

  I couldn’t help feeling an overpowering relief that my father hadn’t told him about Hunter. I swore I could feel Kyas’s magic humming in my blood like liquid fire.

  Kyas said “we” couldn’t interfere. We, who? His people? And interfere how?

  Thoughts of Dragonlords in red capes taking me away in a cage filled my thoughts. Despite the warmth of my blankets, I shivered and hoped my father was right, that we wouldn’t see Kyas, or any of his people, again anytime soon.

  Chapter 10

  Turncoat

  The day of Kyas’s visit, Dad found me doing something he’d strictly put off limits.

  He’d left a bag of his weapons by the couch, a rare thing for him when he usually stored them somewhere out of reach. When I’d awakened in the late afternoon, I’d seen them, and the urge had been too much to resist. Which is why, an hour later, when he’d returned from some errand or other, he found me throwing his poison-tipped knives at the target board hanging on the wall.

  “Mittens, get packing. We’re leaving in—” Having stepped into the cabin, Dad cut off when he saw me and shoved the door closed with a thud. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

  I didn’t look at him. Instead, I picked up another blade and, with far more force than was strictly necessary, threw it at the board. The blade missed the mark entirely, thunking heavily into the wall.

  Damn. I’d been aiming for the dragonsign I’d drawn in the middle of the head area of the target.

  “Helena, step away from the knives.”

  “Teach me to fight.”

  He gave the same bitter laugh as he always did whenever I brought this up. Instead of marching over and taking the blades from me, though, he swung off his coat and calmly set it on the back of the sofa.

  “If I can’t work, then teach me to hunt monsters with you.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “I can do it. I’ve been watching you.” I picked up another blade, carefully turning it over in my hand. I liked the feel of the cool steel, the weight of the weapon in my palm. It disturbed me how natural it felt.

  “So, because you’ve seen me slay a vampire or two, you think you can fight one and not get yourself killed?”

  “No. Teach me how, and then I can.” I threw the knife hard at the dragon scrawled on the middle of the target’s head. Or I tried to. When I’d swung my arm over my head for the throw, I’d lost hold of the hilt and the weapon flew backward, hitting the floor behind me.

  “Yeah. I’d want you at my back, Miss Magoo.” His soft chuckle stoked the anger already welling within me over his conversation with that Dragonspawn earlier.

  Dad stood up and moved to take the next blade from me, but stopped. His pause made me glance at him. He was staring at the target, or rather, what I’d drawn on it.

  “Why is there a bat drawn on the man’s forehead?”

  I made a pissed-off noise, not bothering to correct him, and whipped the knife at the board. Instead of the face area, it struck the target’s shoulder.

  “Ah.” He snorted. “It’s a dragonsign.” His smile was crooked. “Kyas would love this.”

  I said nothing.

  “Is this because of that comment he made about you eavesdropping on men?”

  “No.”

  “Wait. No. It’s ‘cause he said you couldn’t work.”

  The next knife stuck Kyas right in the head, in the dragonsign. Bullseye. The only one I’d hit since I’d started. The memory of their argument from this morning churned up a dislike for Kyas so strong it scared me a little. It simmered in my blood, heating my skin, almost as unnatural as the feeling of being drawn to him. The implications in his reaction to my having a job, his adamancy that my father couldn’t let it happen again, grated on my every nerve. Who the hell did he think he was? Dragonblooded bastard.

  In the four years since that day on the farm in Canada, we’d run into Dragonlords a handful of times. Nothing good ever happened when they were around. Once, I’d seen a group of Dragonwatch Guardsman bullying a shopkeeper into letting them take food from his store. I’d wanted to stop them so badly, my hands had glowed with magic as I shoved them into my pockets. Dad pushed me into the truck and drove off just as two of the Suvia Kyans started beating the man.

  It seemed my dad had been right in what he’d said more than once in the past four years. Dragonlords were nothing but bullying, meddlesome animals that preyed on the weak.

  “Are you going to listen to him?” I asked now, throwing another blade, which hit the wall beside Kyas’s head. Wow, my father made this look easy. When he practiced, he hit the target almost every time.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s right, Helena. Move.” He pushed me gently aside, obviously intending to take my place in front of the board.

  “I’m not done with those.”

  “Tough. They’re my weapons, and you aren’t supposed to be touching them.” He stalked over to the board, yanking the blades I’d thrown free.

  Unable to argue with that point, I crossed my arms and watched him do his own target practice.

  “So some sexist, medieval-minded dragon tells you your daughter
can’t work, and you’ll roll over like a good human.”

  “I’m not discussing this with you, Helena. He’s trying to protect you. And so am I. I never should have let you get that job.” He went behind me, picking up the blade I’d dropped there.

  “You told me yourself, don’t trust his people. Him especially. He’s the least trustworthy of all, isn’t that what you said?”

  Silent, he took up position in front of the target board.

  “Answer me.”

  He threw a blade. It thunked, dead center, into the dragon on Kyas’s head.

  “Dragonlords hate us. They’d kill us all if they could, and they never help a human without some secret agenda.”

  “Kyas just wants to keep us safe.” Another blade struck beside the first. Had it hit unusually hard? And why did he sound like he was convincing himself as much as me?

  We can’t interfere yet.

  “Yeah, right. I could feel it, he wants something. Dealing with a Dragonlord always comes with a price, isn’t that what you said? He has one, I know it.”

  “Oh? How? Are you an expert in Dragonlord culture? Or can you see into his mind, the way he can see into ours?”

  “He wants something. I’m telling you.”

  “Which is?”

  “He’s Dragonwatch.”

  “So you think he’s going to try to put you in a cage.” Dad picked up another blade, turning it over in his hand as he spoke. “That doesn’t make sense. If he wanted to turn you into a weapon, why hasn’t he done it already?”

  Well, yeah, he had me there. “I don’t know.”

  “You just don’t like him because he’s a chauvinist.”

  “That’s not true.” My fists clenched. Memories of those two Suvia Kyans who’d tried to kidnap me and kill my father filled my mind, making my heart beat faster.

  “You don’t like him because he’s getting in the way of your independence.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “It is so.” For some reason, his eyes sparkled.

  “No, it’s not!” I snapped, anger boiling over. “I don’t like him because he’s a Dragonlord!”

  My father dropped the blade in his hand and stared at me. The shock on his face lasted only a moment before it disappeared behind a stony mask.

  “You’re forgetting, Kyas saved my life,” Dad muttered. “We owe him respect.”

  But something about that Dragonlord still felt wrong. Awareness of it buzzed across my thoughts like an electrical current, as unmistakable as the unnatural draw I felt to him.

  “But why did he do it? He wants something; I know you can’t feel people’s thoughts, but you feel that from him.”

  He shook his head and whipped another blade at the wall. The knife struck Kyas right in the heart. He threw another and it struck the other side of his chest. I widened my eyes, and not just because of his killer accuracy. I knew why he’d hit both sides of the chest. Dragonlords had two hearts, one on each side.

  My dad, the Dragonlord killer.

  I didn’t have to touch him to feel his anger, but it wasn’t all directed at me.

  “This discussion is over,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes, desperation clawing at me, and not only for the independence he’d mentioned. For years, I’d wanted to make him proud of me, to help people the way he did. The only way I could. A normal job was too dangerous. If he’d teach me, someday I wouldn’t have to walk away when I saw a man like that shopkeeper being persecuted. “So, what am I going to do for the rest of my life?”

  “For now? We’ll see this woman he’s sending us to. See if she can help you get some control over your powers. Then we’ll talk about what to do next.”

  “You don’t have a plan, do you?” I crossed my arms, smug. Over the years, I’d learned to read my father well enough to know that when he avoided a direct answer, it was because he didn’t have one. He was at a loss, and he was making this up as he went along.

  “I have a plan. The plan is for you to go and pack, and for us to be on the road in half an hour. Rishtar is in Colorado Springs. We have a long drive if we want to make it on time to see her in four days.”

  “Rishtar? Is that her name?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t have a plan. You don’t know what to do.” I sauntered into the bedroom to pack, covering my fear with smugness.

  “Button it, Helena.”

  “I’m not letting some Dragonblooded misogynist control my life.”

  “No, you’re going to do as I say.”

  “Whatever.”

  There was a growl from him, and then a loud thunk of a blade hitting the target board. It made me smile to think of the knife hitting Kyas right in the gonads.

  Then, as I sat on my bed and started packing my bag, my smile faded.

  We can’t interfere yet. Kyas’s voice reverberated in my head. What are you hiding from me, Dad?

  We drove for nearly ten hours, stopping in Monrovia, Indiana at around six in the morning. We found a campground and pitched the tent Dad kept in the back of the Blazer. Dad’s soft snores on the other side of the large tent provided more reassurance than I liked to admit, out here in the middle of nothing where who knew what could come upon us. Early morning hadn’t broken yet, and an owl hooted in the darkness, making me uneasy.

  Squirming in my sleeping bag, I dropped off into restless dreams. The dreams all blended into one another; I remembered little, other than the lingering sense of danger. Of being chased. Hunted. Only, everywhere I looked, I never saw anyone or anything following me.

  In one dream, I stood in a cavernous room, but how I got there, or where I had been a moment before, I couldn’t remember. Disoriented, I glanced around.

  The room seemed familiar for some reason. The floor tiles shone with a metallic look, laid out in the three colors that represented the three elements of dragon magic—red for fire, gold for wind, blue for water. Giant pillars rose from floor to ceiling, making me feel tiny and incredibly vulnerable in their overwhelming opulence. Three massive dragons, two hundred feet tall each and all in their right colors and shapes, stood glaring down at me, majestic and dangerous.

  I walked slowly toward a large window that took up one wall, but I hardly got two steps before I nearly tripped on something at my feet. I glanced down.

  “Wow.”

  Instead of the tee shirt I’d put on before I’d crawled into my sleeping bag, I wore a gown like I’d never seen in my life. The strapless dress hugged my shape, the sweetheart neckline drawing attention to the swell of my breasts and my curves. A deep plum in color, the dress had a layered skirt that swept behind me into a train that trailed across the floor for days. Long matching gloves reached to my elbows. Tiny winged dragons dotted the gown’s hem. Golden Windwielder dragons, like…

  When I tried to form the thought, it flitted away like dust on the wind.

  “Jesus.” No way would I tell anyone, but my lips pulled into an appreciative smile, looking at the gown. I hated dresses, but this was so gorgeous, even I had to appreciate it. Too bad the train made the dress so heavy. “What is this?”

  “It’s a traditional Suvia Kyan ball gown.”

  The huge voice rumbled, seeming to come from everywhere at once, like a god. I knew that voice. It was the dragon that had saved me.

  Looking around for the source of the voice drew my eyes to the ceiling, where elaborate murals of dragons in battle stretched from one side of the room to the other. The blue lightening of Watermaker dragons collided with the red of Firewalkers, streaking out where they came together in an explosion of magical fire. I saw no sign of the dragon whose voice I’d heard.

  “Where are you?”

  “Do you like your dress, Helena?”

  Damn. I looked between the pillars, this way and that, but didn’t see him anywhere, yet his magic infused my veins, supernatural, primal. “Show yourself.”

  “I like that you think you can command me. Answer me, Helena.”

 
“I’m not the fancy gown type. They don’t go well with being on the run.”

  “That is not what I asked you.”

  I dropped my arms. “Are you always this annoying?”

  His laugh, smooth, affectionate and protective, drove the butterflies in my belly wild.

  “Fine. The dress is gorgeous. Can I get out of it now?”

  “No.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course not.”

  “I like you this way.”

  “What way? Trapped?”

  “Looking like you belong to me.”

  I thought I heard a soft scraping noise, like scales slithering along the tiles, but again, I didn’t see him. Instead of fear, I felt a thrill race through me, fascinated by the danger. I should have wanted to leave, but I felt safe here. With him. Almost the same way I felt with… With who? A Dragonlord’s name played at the edge of my thoughts, but wouldn’t form.

  While I should have looked for a doorway out, instead I glanced around the room again. The window that took up the far wall drew me. A row of pillars framed the window, each one entwined by large, bluish-hued flowers I’d never seen before. They filled the place with a heady scent, like roses, but more intoxicating. Everything here seemed to shimmer with a hint of magical essence.

  “Those are sa’si,” the dragon said the moment I thought the question. “They’re a Suvia Kyan blossom.”

  “They’re lovely.” I drew closer to the window. The sky outside was bathed in a glorious fiery orange tint. New York City gleamed as though the glass skyscraper windows had been set aflame. The scent of the sa’si drew me to them. I bent and cupped one blossom in my hand, inhaling deep and making a pleased sound.

  “What is this place? It’s fantastic.”

  “It’s a place I like to come to think.”

  “I can see why, but how is there a place like this in New York?”

  “It’s glamoured so no human can see it unless we wish.”

  “Wait.” I turned, looking everywhere for the source of the voice again. “My father told me no humans are allowed inside a Suvia Kyan place of business.”