Dance of the Dragon Sorceress [Tangere Tales 3]

by Heather Rainier

  Chapter Six

  “We will escort you to your room, Elaina,” Basile, the crown prince, said to her as she rose, with Flappy hanging limp in her arms as if he was exhausted.

  “I think I can find my way back, guys. You don’t have to do that, if you have watch or some…other duty.”

  The truth was that she’d developed a weakness for the way Rainger’s dimpled smile and easy conversation drew her out, made her feel like she was the only one in the room worth talking to. His hand on hers earlier had sent a wave of longing through her. Since her arrival, most of his actions had been dictated by a desire for her to feel safe, or at least it seemed that way. And Basile’s raspy voice, the way it sent sweet shivers all over her body and his gentle manner in the way he touched her forearm when he spoke with her had more than made up for having scared her earlier. He focused solely on her and had shown genuine interest when he’d asked her about her world, her family, and what she did.

  She didn’t like to talk about herself, and there wasn’t that much to tell anyway, but he’d made her feel special. He laughed at her jokes, even when he didn’t understand what she said. It was uncommon, in her experience, for a man to be so curious of her history.

  Together, they made her feel as though her commonplace world was as fascinating to them as their fantastical world was to her.

  It was still early, and she wanted to know more about them. And she knew that if they walked her to her door, she wasn’t ready for the night to end.

  Be honest. You want to know way more about them than you should. Like what they look like naked. Both of them.

  The shocking thought blasted through her mind, and a corresponding wave of heat reverberated through her body.

  “Elaina?” Basile murmured, standing before her, gazing at her as if he could read her mind, and his voice, speaking her name, sent those waves of heat inward. The way he spoke those three syllables, so intimate. She bit her lip.

  “She is exhausted from the day,” Rainger said as he rose from his seat.

  “It’s early still, isn’t it?” she asked, searching around for a clock, only to recall they didn’t have anything like that there.

  Rainger pointed a finger to the fireplace. “The fire is nearly burned down, and the moon has climbed high in the sky while we’ve been talking. It’s nearly midnight,” he said as he went to the window. As he peered out, the moonlight lit one side of his face in pearly light and transformed the auburn of his hair to a luminous copper.

  She moved to stand beside him, cuddling the sleepy dragon, and looked up at the moon. “Wow.” All she could do was stare at the magnificent orb.

  “What is it?” Basile asked as he stood close behind her.

  “The moon, the stars. All of it. I grew up camping, and the night sky was always starry on clear nights at our campsite, but this…”

  “Nice?” Rainger asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice even though she didn’t look at him.

  “Spectacular might be a better word. It’s as if the sky is dusted with sparkling diamonds. And the moon…I’ve never seen the moon in such detail.”

  It was odd. She’d camped at all times of the year, viewed the moon and the constellations all her life. Her friend Angel’s father and uncle had taught them how to spot the constellations. She’d never seen the moon the way it was now. Then a grouping of stars caught her attention. She wobbled on her feet, and Rainger steadied her.

  “Are you feeling well, Elaina?” Basile asked as he stroked her shoulder. “It could be the moon, but you’ve gone a bit pale.”

  She put cold fingertips to her lips as she scanned the night sky. “I know these constellations, but…”

  “Yes?” Basile said as he leaned forward to look into her eyes. “Do you know them from your home?”

  “Yes and no. I know them…in reverse.”

  “Do you feel faint again?” Rainger asked, the concern evident in his husky voice. She still couldn’t believe she’d fainted earlier and embarrassment made her shake her head. She was not doing that again.

  “No, I’ll be all right. I think I’d better head upstairs. I suppose it has been a long day.” Just then, Flappy jerked in her arms as he drowsed, reminding her that she had a little one to see to, and she added, “Flappy needs his rest, too.”

  “Allow us?” Rainger asked as he offered his elbow to her. It was an old-fashioned courtesy but one that she admired and appreciated once they arrived at the huge staircase that would take her back to the floor where her room was.

  They didn’t hesitate at her door. Basile simply opened the way and went to the fireplace and poked at the burning wood before adding another small log to it. “This should keep your room sufficiently warm through the night. The abbey is notoriously cold in the morning, even in the summer months.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, struck by the thoughtful gesture, and then turned to find Rainger pulling back the covers on the bed. He pointed at her backpack with a raised eyebrow, and she nodded, sighing as he removed it from her shoulders for her. “The mandala is in the main compartment. Would you mind getting it?”

  “The what?”

  “The piece of fabric I had out earlier. Flappy likes to curl up in it.”

  “Oh, the spell cloth?” he said, after quickly figuring out how to unzip the pocket and pulling the item from within.

  She giggled. “That’s what you thought it was?”

  “The pattern painted on it suggested as much.”

  “It’s just fabric, painted with pretty dyes in colors I like. I carry it everywhere because it’s lightweight and you never know when it might come in handy, you know?”

  “I know? Oh, yes, I see what you mean.”

  Basile gently stroked Flappy’s little head as he lolled across her forearm, wings hanging limp. “If I may make a suggestion, Elaina?” His voice and the way he gazed at her with those riveting dark blue eyes reached past simple sensory input to a vulnerable place locked deep inside and succeeded in making her feel truly safe. Just with words and a look.

  “What?” she asked, recalling he had a purpose in what he was saying.

  “Don’t mention that fact to just anyone. The knights, guards, and probably staff are all under the impression that the cloth has magical properties. We live in perilous times, and that belief might work in your favor if the need arises. I’m not saying lie outright to the knights. I’d just keep the knowledge to yourself.”

  “Basile gives wise counsel,” Rainger said. “I think they view your duffel and its contents in much the same light.”

  “My bag of tricks?” she asked with a giggle. “Just call me Maleficent, huh?”

  Basile responded to her levity with a genuine smile and a gleam in his eyes that somehow made her feel proud.

  “I will only ever call you Elaina the White, but yes, whatever works, as you say.”

  Rainger fluffed the pillows for her, and with capable hands, he created a nest out of the mandala for Flappy. There was something sensual about the way in which he set about making a comfortable spot for her to rest, as well, as if he truly cared, and she said as much to him as she thanked him.

  “No worries, Elaina. I was just checking the bed for spiders and other—”

  “Stop right there before you ruin it,” she said with another giggle. “I don’t want to know.”

  “I was teasing, Elaina,” he said as he came around the bed and stood before her. “I’m taking a lesson from your playbook, as you say.”

  Thinking she probably deserved it after threatening him with a toy light-up sword, she nodded. “Well played, huntsman.” Anything she might have said further was interrupted by a huge yawn.

  “You need sleep, and we will be up early.”

  She looked up at them and said, “This is an awfully big place. You didn’t really need to escort me all the way to my room.”

  Basile’s slow, curling smile sent a ripple of pleasure up her spine. He took his time with the simple expression, as t
hough he was thinking of naughty things, which sent another thrill down her spine and straight to her pussy.

  “It was no bother. My room is next door,” he said, pointing to the wall opposite of her bed.

  Rainger gestured with a thumb at the wall her headboard rested against. “And so is mine.”

  Her errant pussy clamored at how exciting that news was, and she really tried to clamp down on her inner harlot. Now is not the time for neighbors-with-benefits fantasies.

  “If you need us…” Rainger said, rubbing a knuckle against his chin.

  “I’ll just holler.”

  “Is that akin to howling?” Basile asked.

  “Basically.” A sigh escaped her when Basile drew a little closer, gave her that slightly lopsided naughty smile, and leaned down to kiss her. His lips were warm and velvety brushing against hers, filling her head with the scent of the woods and of man.

  “Sleep well, little witch.”

  “I…uh…I’m sure I will.” Will not! clamored her inner harlot.

  “Sweet dreams, Elaina the White,” Rainger murmured as he, too, leaned down and kissed her. His scent carried the fragrance of pine resin and a hint of wood smoke, combined with his own unique musk. Her body responded with fervor as he kissed her, adding lovely, warm sensation to the sensory overload.

  He deepened the kiss for a split second, taking her by surprise and making her heart race as he tugged at her lower lip with his. When she gasped, he licked the inside of her lip and stroked her tongue with his, just for a single beat of her heart, before pulling back. A delighted grin bowed his lips. He stroked her chin for a moment as he eased back. “And there you have it, don’t you?”

  “Don’t I? Do I? Do I what? What?” Way to sound like an idiot, Elaina.

  “We are both under your spell,” Rainger murmured as he stroked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

  “I didn’t cast a spell.”

  “Yes, you did,” Basile said, grinning when Flappy yawned, reminding them of his presence. “Good night.”

  “Well, it’s not much of a spell if the night ends with the two of you leaving.”

  Basile’s eyebrow quirked upward, and he grinned. “You have a tiny charge to put to bed. I wish the same was true for us.”

  Her inner harlot threw a temper tantrum, but she nodded. “You’re right. I was speaking out of turn. You just surprised me. I’d better get him to bed.”

  “You surprised us, too, sorceress,” Rainger said. “And Zayrgrud won’t be that tiny or need that kind of nurture for very long.”

  The bedroom door creaked, and she was surprised to find the huge black dog, what looked like a Newfoundland, and big even for its breed, sitting in the doorway watching them. She hadn’t heard his approach at all. He watched them in rapt silence, a big doggie grin on his heavy jowls.

  “Away, dog,” Rainger said as he shooed it from the doorway, waving his hand in front of his face. “We should name him Odiferous.”

  “Oh be nice. He can’t help it. He just needs a good bath. Isn’t that right, Odie?” she said softly as she smiled at him. “His coat would be gorgeous and shiny if only someone would take the time with him.”

  The beast tilted his head as though he was actually listening and then trotted off at a leisurely pace, looking back once before disappearing into the gloom.

  “That behemoth looks too well fed to be a stray,” Basile murmured, a frown marring his brow briefly before his attention returned to her.

  The combined heat in their gazes sent a tremor pulsing through her. Flappy yawned and shifted in her arms, and she snuggled him close to her, kissing the top of his head.

  Her sense of responsibility outweighed her own desires, and her admiration for the two men grew even more because they understood that about her. That trait was increasingly rare in the men she met in her own world.

  Basile lowered his chin in a nod of respect before he pulled the door closed. A brief conversation occurred, and then all was quiet except for the stirring in her heart.

  Flappy’s little body curled into the nest when she tucked the soft stretchy cloth around him, and he slipped into the deep sleep she’d seen before in toddlers. Growth spurts were exhausting, and it must be the same for dragons. Even sound asleep, he purred when she gently scratched at the bristling feathers on his face that were interspersed with the softer fur, another sign that his growth changes had already begun.

  Flappy slept hard, and Elaina watched over him until she drifted off into her own fitful dreams. Dreams of dark strangers watching her from the shadows. Dreams of flying.

  * * * *

  Fermin Guggant shook in his boots as he trod the circular stairs leading up to the Queen of the Western Kingdom’s private sanctum. His fear wasn’t due simply to the fact that there was no railing protecting an unfortunate climber from plunging into hundreds of feet of yawning darkness just an arm’s length away.

  The terse order, delivered with a smirk by one of the queen’s private guardsmen, had also inspired trepidation at the thought of ascending to her most private of chambers at the top of the red tower that soared like a dagger into the heavens. He tried not to think of how high he was now. If she didn’t like his news, she could send him to his death with a mere push.

  Having been raised in the village nestled in the valley at the base of the mountain, Fermin had climbed the mountain Palais de Lune de Sang was built upon all his life, in service to the royal family and then the queen when she’d come into power. But there was something about climbing the narrow stairs in those dreadful red towers that made his bowels quiver with fear. Even looking at them made his stomach wobble. Maybe that was what she’d hoped for when Queen Draconia had designed the palace. It wasn’t only formidable to an enemy. It inspired terror.

  It was a blessing that Fermin’s parents, whom he missed wholeheartedly, had not lived to see what had become of Coeur du Ciel, the palace known as the Heart of the Sky in King Farald Vitoricus’s day.

  “Now that was a beauty, to be sure.”

  Stone from the island kingdom of Etherea had been imported by one of Farald’s ancestors and carried across Tangere to the Western Kingdom with the aid of the dragons, those fearsome, horrendous beasts, in a time when they’d been tame and biddable. The palace would glow a pale blue with the light of dawn and had an iridescent sheen, even on the most overcast day. With the wind whipping at its flagged turrets, it’d been a happy sight and a delight to serve the royal family.

  Then had come sadness, with the death of Queen Gloriosa in childbed, leaving Farald with a newborn son and no one to rule at his side.

  Fermin’s own mother, a laundress in the palace, had wept for a month, for the queen was a woman worthy of the job, governing the running of the palace and guiding those who lived and served within as if she were a shepherd and they were her sheep.

  “I miss her still,” Fermin breathed out in a barely audible voice, risking his own skin if Draconia heard him. Then had come the day when Draconia had captured Farald’s eye on a trip abroad. She’d insinuated herself into his heart and eventually captured the crown for herself. The witch.

  In all the years since Draconia had become his queen, she hadn’t aged a day, appearing to the observant to be the same age as her stepson, Basile. A person who questioned how that was possible was likely to disappear and never be heard from again.

  Inhaling and exhaling slowly to get his racing heart under control, Fermin plodded upward on legs that trembled with fatigue as well as fear.

  The crackle of a large fire told him he was near. The light his lantern cast onto the reddish stone changed from yellow to the deeper red light cast by the imposing fire pit set into the middle of the topmost space. The roof had been built with a huge hole in the center to vent the smoke.

  “Who would do that to a structure?” he asked himself. “Lets the rain in, lets the snow in, and whistles a godawful racket when the wind blows through it just right, fit to curdle my very soul every time I hear it—�
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  An invisible hand gripped his voice box, and a woman’s voice whispered inside his head. It pleases me to watch the sparks of my sacrifices float up into the sky, and if you don’t cease your yammering, the sparks from your miserable carcass could join them. Still feeling nostalgic?

  His lantern suddenly went out, and he cast a terrified gaze around the red gloom. “I’m sorry, Your Eminence. No nostalgia here.” The words were garbled because he could barely speak, let alone breathe.

  I should simply toss your pathetic verminous hide to your death for lamenting my idiotic predecessors. You’re not good enough for my fire.

  Of their own volition, his legs ambulated up the remaining steps. As he reached the top, he wobbled precipitously at the edge of the abyss, knowing she controlled his fate. An unseen hand jerked him close enough to peer down. They were so high up he couldn’t even see the flames from the guardsmen’s fire below. He could only smell the smoke from it.

  If I aim carefully, you could land in that fire…after you bounce off the inner walls and stone steps a time or two. That could be fun.

  Her laughter tightened the knot in his gut, and his bowels clenched with fear again. She slammed him none too gently against the wall but allowed him to stay on his feet.

  You disgust me. If you weren’t possessed of other valuable gifts, I’d eliminate you simply for your reek, vermin.

  She still spoke inside his head as she loomed just a few feet away, in front of the fire. He’d always been tall, and she was his equal in stature, yet somehow managed to make him feel like she towered over him. The crown she wore on her head gave the added appearance of horns to her silhouette, like a—

  Don’t. Even. Think. It.

  His body jerked once more toward the chasm, and he whimpered pathetically.