by Ashley Frost
“It’s all right,” she said. “It’s not too bad. Rayse said we could visit any time.”
“Why didn’t you visit earlier then?” Karsi asked.
She bowed her head guiltily. “It took longer than it should have to settle down.”
“Stop making it hard on the poor girl,” Eduard scolded, swatting Karsi’s arm lightly.
Karsi made a noise of disapproval, then stood. “I’ll be checking on the soup.”
“You’re going to be acting mad the whole time?” Eduard asked, resting a hand on his lap.
The woman didn’t answer. Instead, her mother lifted her skirt and meandered her way to the kitchen.
“When is she never grumpy and mad?” Constance laughed.
Eduard tapped his chin and nodded. “You do have a point.” He grabbed and squeezed her hand. “It’s good to have you home. So, what’s wrong?”
“Wrong?”
“You’re troubled. I know you. You always come running to me when you are, and although you might want me to think you’re just home for a visit, you have that look on your face.”
She sighed and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It’s Rew. The nightmares of him are back.”
“Rew?” Rayse asked. He’d never heard the name before. Come to think of it, she never told him about her childhood tormentor. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide secrets from him. It was simply awkward to suddenly bring it up.
“She was in a thieving crew before I found her,” Eduard filled in. “From what I heard, he didn’t treat her very well. I’m surprised dear Constance here warmed up to you as quickly as she did. She has… issues, with men.”
“Did he hurt you?” Rayse asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Sometimes he did.”
Rayse clenched his fist. “I’ll find him.”
She put a hand over his fist, calming him. “He’s dead, love. Strung up by the neck long ago.”
Eduard seemed concerned. “You haven’t had nightmares about Rew since you were ten. Did something happen?”
She recalled the incident with the clan, which triggered her flight response. She decided to keep it from her father, lest he worried too much. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it. “The new environment, perhaps. It’s hard to adjust.”
“If any of those dragons bully you, just let me know and I’ll whip them asses back in line.”
Rayse raised a brow, amused.
“Thanks, Papa,” she said.
“You’re strong, Constance. Don’t forget that. Rew treated you like horseshit for years. When I found you, you were the most frightened little thing, but you got over it so quickly and adjusted to village life. Don’t run and hide, stay and protect. Isn’t that what us village doctors do? Every time you hear Rew’s voice, you need to remind yourself you’ve changed. You’re not that timid eight-year-old girl anymore. You’re a grown, strong woman.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” Eduard always had the right things to say. Simply being in his home made her feel welcomed, unlike the surroundings of Dragon Keep. Eduard’s presence made her recognize her usual self, while the clan constantly served to test and challenge her. “That’s what I needed to hear.”
“If the dragons are troubling you too much, you can stay here for as long as you want,” Eduard said. “We haven’t done anything with your room yet.”
“Yet? “
“Well, we don’t have a very large cottage. Since you weren’t using it, I figured we’d do something with it.”
“So eager to get rid of me?”
“Hey, you left on your own accord. I played no part in that.”
Karsi barged into the living room with a large tray of soup. Constance hadn’t realized how much she missed Karsi’s cooking until then. The woman walked with a bounce in her steps. Apparently, Karsi had already forgotten how angry she was.
“Pea soup, just as you like it,” Karsi said. “We haven’t had cream in this household for awhile. The extra funds allowed us to splurge a bit.”
Constance breathed in the aroma, enjoying it. She scooped a large spoonful worth of soup and drank it down. It was delicious. Smooth and creamy. It hit just the right spots in her belly.
Rayse didn’t look pleased with the dish. His nose wrinkled up, although he didn’t make his displeasure too obvious.
“You’re not having any?” she asked.
Karsi glanced at him expectantly.
“There’s no meat in it,” he said. “My kind likes meat.” After more expectant staring from Karsi and a long, awkward silence, he gave in and picked up the bowl.
He drank the soup with a stoic expression. He was most likely cringing on the inside, though he didn’t show it. Dragon’s weren’t keen on sweet or creamy foods. They enjoyed charred meat.
She, however, thoroughly enjoyed the delectable homey taste. She was ready for seconds not before long.
***
Constance laid on Rayse’s bare chest. She could hear his heart thumping. It was a calming, steady sound.
“I still can’t get that taste off my tongue,” he said, breathing smoke.
She gave him an amused look. “It’s Karsi’s best dish.”
“Not for dragons. It’s akin to vomit to us. It even looks like vomit. It’s green. Food should be glistening and red, or black and charred.” He made a face.
“Don’t let her hear you say that. She’ll be enraged.”
“She wouldn’t be able to do anything, even if she were.”
“She’s my mother. And don’t underestimate her. You haven’t seen what she can do with a kitchen knife.”
“Sounds terrifying.” He glanced at her with a smirk, and her heart paused for a fraction of a second. He looked glorious in the dim moonlight with his slightly tussled hair, which had grown past his ears, his strong jaw, his haunting eyes…
The dark circles under his eyes had mostly faded away. She found relief knowing he wasn’t having to hold himself back all the time, now that they had mated.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” Rayse said. “It makes me need to have you again.”
Her lips tightened and went dry. “Not with my parents right outside. Besides, I’m feeling tired.” Their short nap in the forest didn’t help her rest much, although Rayse appeared to have benefited greatly from it. He acted so refreshed, she was almost jealous.
“We can keep it quiet,” he said, pulling her closer. She took in his masculine scent.
A loud banging noise startled her.
“Eduard!” Karsi’s voice screamed. “Eduard! No, no, please.” Her mother’s cries mellowed into a soft muttering.
Rayse was out in the living room before long. Constance scampered after him, her insides tightening with dread. She prayed to whatever gods were listening—she didn’t believe in the dragon mother or dragons anymore, but true divine beings had to be out there somewhere.
Please, let my parents be safe. Let my parents be safe. She chanted the phrase in her head multiple times. Each passing moment made her doubt her hope. Her steps slowed as she reached the door. She didn’t want to see the chaos beyond the safety of her room. Inside, she knew the truth she hesitated to face.
“No,” Karsi said, sounding muffled. “No why? Why? Oh dragons… Eduard… don’t leave me .”
Tendrils of dark magic weaved past her skin. Eduard came into view.
His body was still. Lifeless. Dead.
Blood seeped onto the floor and pooled beneath her father’s deceased form. Half his neck was torn off, and his guts were exposed. A giddy sickness took over. Bile caught in her throat.
“It was a dragon,” her mother said.
Rayse shook his head. “Can’t be. I would have noticed it.” Rayse remained contained. He’d probably seen more death than she could imagine. “Dragons don’t make too much noise, but my hearing would have been able to pick up on it. Dragons leave a very distinct trail if you understand them well.”
“It was like a dragon. It had its form,
but it looked much smaller than most. Mist shaped the beast. It could seep through walls.” Karsi shivered as she spoke, unable to look at Eduard for long. “We were about to head to bed when it… when… Oh, Eduard.” Karsi wept into her palms.
Constance followed the trail of dark magic she could sense. It led outside. She’d find whoever did this and make them suffer. Eduard was her beacon of light for far too long. The murderer, whoever that person was, would pay. Fueled by her anger and anguish, she darted outside. She sought the skies. The magic was getting weaker.
There, amongst the stars, she sighted what Karsi talked about. A wraith-like mist danced through the air. Some parts of it formed dragon wings. Its darkness contrasted starkly with the luminous moonlight. The mist creature dived into the trees, then vanished.
She turned back to her father and his pieced apart body. She would have the caster of this magic dead soon enough. He had been right there, drinking soup with her not long ago. Laughing and joking as he always did on the table he now bled next to.
The man did not deserve his fate. He was kind, generous, and had saved so many lives.
Tears pooled in Constance’s eyes as she fought down the scream struggling in her chest. She couldn’t hold back her emotions for long. She curled up next to Eduard’s side as Karsi was doing, bawling and wailing for her loved one.
“His death will not go unanswered,” Rayse promised her.
She had no words to cough out. She could only let grief swarm and overwhelm her.
EPILOGUE
“Eat,” Rayse said, shoving a plate of meat into Constance’s hands.
Rayse was worried—no, terrified, for her. His mate looked frail. Beautiful, but weak. Her long, thick lashes drooped over her eyes. Her breathing, coming from those pink lips he loved to kiss, was heavy. Her previously curvy figure had thinned, and he was beginning to feel more of her bones.
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
“Eat,” he commanded. He sat next to her on the steps. “It’s our ceremonial day. I don’t want you to look weakened today.” Not today, not ever. If he had his way, Constance would have rosy cheeks, a wide grin, and be happy for the rest of eternity.
She chuckled. “You’re always getting your way, aren’t you?” Using the fork, she fiddled with her food.
“Of course. I’m clan leader.” He tucked a strand of her luscious brown locks behind her ear. The shine of her hair had dimmed over the past month. “You’re worrying me, love. I hate seeing you like this.”
“I’m just upset. I need to grieve, that’s all. I’ll get over it.”
He wasn’t sure she would. She’d been grieving for far too long. It pained him to see her like this.
They arrived at the clan after a week with Karsi. He had to return to tend to matters and Constance didn’t seem to want to leave his side. He still flew her to her mother every few days for a visit, though. The clan didn’t quite approve of their head dragon leaving so frequently, but seeing Constance’s new dragon mark seemed to have appeased them. It was customary to hold a ceremony to celebrate the leader’s new dragon wife. The clan wanted to hold the ceremony as soon as they arrived, but he had pushed the date back to give Constance more space.
“Starving yourself is no way to grieve, love,” he said.
She peeled the skin off a piece of meat and picked at it. Slowly, she brought the morsel to her lips—the sweet, delectable lips he wanted to devour every night. He left her alone for most nights, as much as he wanted to ravish her, unless Constance asked for otherwise. Sex didn’t feel appropriate at times like these.
He watched as she ate, wanting to make sure she was taken care of. He had asked Nanili to stew the meat long enough to make it tender, so it’d be easy for Constance to swallow.
She ate a few pieces, then passed the plate back to him. “I’m full.”
“That was barely enough,” he said, frowning.
“I can’t eat anymore, Rayse.” She brought herself to her feet and patted her dress down. “I’ll need to get ready for tonight. Greta’s helping me dress up. I’m horrendous at prettying myself up.” She smiled, only briefly. He savored the moment, trying to take in the essence of her happy face before it slipped away.
“You’re always pretty to me,” he said.
She kissed his cheek. “See you tonight, husband.”
Unable to resist her sweet scent, he swept his fingers into her hair and crashed his lips onto hers. Their tongues met. He consumed her intoxicating taste. Finally, after a long, drawn-out kiss, he let her go. “See you tonight, wife.” She was his. He trailed his fingers over the mark on her shoulder. Damaged, but his.
If only he could fix her problems as he did so many others.
They parted, too quickly, and she walked away.
***
Dragon’s fire of a dozen different colors burned hot over the campfire. A musical member of the clan played a cheery tune. The couples were allowed to dance first. Then the singles joined. They danced in a timed choreography, switching partners at the right moments and spinning adeptly. The non-dancers sat at the sidelines, drinking ale as they chattered.
Rayse sat on a high-seated chair. He watched over the festivities, sipping ale himself. He could dance. He did so plenty of times in his dragonling years. But the activity bored him these days. The only one who would make it worthwhile again was Constance, and she wasn’t allowed to appear until the end.
He stood and walked down the steps into the crowd. Most of his people didn’t notice him—he remained hidden when he wanted to, and he blended well into the noise. The few sharp ones who managed to sight him bowed and parted to let him move past.
He reached a bench where a middle-aged lady was and sat down. She wore a cloak over her head, which obscured her face. “I hope you’re not feeling too nervous. I advised you not to come.”
“Yes, but you gave me a choice,” Karsi said. “I’d very much like to see my own daughter’s wedding.”
“It’s not a wedding. It’s an acceptance ceremony, only reserved for the clan leaders.”
“It is one. It’s starting to look exactly like one, and a very grand wedding at that.”
He let the matter rest. No use arguing terminology with Karsi. “How are you holding up?”
She seemed burdened and carried herself with a slumped posture. “Not very well. I was married to that man for more than thirty years, you know? I still miss him every day.” The woman turned toward him. The dragon fire lit up her face. Her cheeks were sullen, more so than Constance’s. “The visits from my daughter help, though. Thank you. It’s probably why I wanted to come here. I don’t like how claustrophobic that tiny hut makes me feel.”
“I still don’t think you should be here. Non-dragon wives aren’t allowed into dragon communities. It might cause a ruckus. Violence, even.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “I was the one who offered you the choice. I’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”
She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
The music changed in tune, and a horn blasted a deafening sound. It was particularly unpleasant to his sharp hearing. All eyes searched for him. He was away from Karsi before he drew any attention to Constance’s mother. Swiftly, he meandered his way through the crowd and to the podium. He waited for his bride in front of his seat.
A guitar started to play. It was a song of Constance’s choosing—an old folk’s song about peace, love, and regret. The heads of important clan families, mostly revered warriors, lined themselves up. Each of them carried a torch in their hands, lighted by dragon’s fire.
The crowd parted, and Constance stepped through. His dragon wife looked amazing. She wore more accessories than he’d ever seen her in. She didn’t need them to shine, but they brightened her already gorgeous features. Her brunette braids were swept over her shoulders, decorated with tiny flowers. Herbal tints made her cheeks and lips redder than they usually were. It m
ade him want to kiss her even more. A long, scarlet dress—the color of blood and strength—draped loosely over her. It stood out against her pale skin.
She walked up to the first dragon in line as Greta had most likely instructed her to. The dragon-man swept the flames of the torch through her. It didn’t scald her in the slightest. The flames avoided her like the wind. She was immune to fire because of her status as a dragon wife. The gesture was to show the village her confirmed status. Each time the flames past her, the crowd applauded. They respected and accepted her as the femriahl now.
It was curious how fickle dragon’s minds were. Just a little over a month ago, many in his clan wanted to see her sentenced to death. Now, many adored Constance, some even wanted to be her. One of the more artistically-inclined dragons had even gifted them with a portrait of his mate.
Their opinions changed quickly after the houses were re-built. Their dragons’ speed and strength, along with his direction, made sure the rebuilding went by without a hitch. The new structures were even more appealing than their predecessors. His clan started to thank Constance for inciting the fight because of their newer, better-looking accommodations. They also approved of her rallying, thinking that her readiness to stand up for him proved that she was stronger than they had assumed.
The last fire bathed her in his light. His perfect wife climbed up the podium toward him.
Her hands trembled, but a warm smile graced her lips. He took her hands in his. They were so tiny compared to his hands, but they fit perfectly in his palm nevertheless. How could the owner of such small hands carry so much strength?
“Ready?” he asked.
“It’s nerve-racking. I’m not used to your people liking me.”
“Don’t get used to it. They change their minds quickly,” he said.
She laughed. “Noted.”
Together, they took their oath. “As one, we will protect, fight for, and nurture this clan. We will do so day and night, from when the sun rises to when the moon sets. Upon our bloods, bound by dragon’s fire, we take this promise. We will not break this sacred oath until our ashes are taken by the winds.”
They kissed. He made sure to kiss her hard and long, so every man watching understood that Constance belonged to him. He’d tear out the throats of any man who tried to ignore that. His. This extraordinary woman belonged to him. Even he, the Black Menace, sometimes found that hard to believe.