Into a Dragon's Soul: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Chronicles of the Four Book 3)

by Marissa Farrar

  Dela glanced at the others, and together they all followed King Dawngleam into the castle.

  They were shown to their own rooms. The spaces were furnished with huge beds with thick mattresses and fourposters, covered by sheets of silks. Open fires in each of the rooms were quickly stoked by the Elvish who worked at the castle and were soon roaring in the grates.

  Warsgra laughed at the opulence. “No wonder we always thought the Elvish to be soft.”

  A bell rang through the castle.

  “Dinner time,” Vehel said, lifting his fine white eyebrows.

  Together, they made their way down to the Great Hall.

  Long tables in a U shape around the outskirts of the hall were filled with people Dela didn’t know. At the head table were the king and his two sons. She noted how Vehel had been given a seat at her side, and not with his family. That was clearly a message being sent out to Vehel, how he was no longer welcome to eat at their side.

  A woman sat on the king’s left. Her long white hair was braided and wrapped around her head, exposing her elegant neck and pointed ears. She was clearly older, and she held herself with grace and poise. Her gaze darted around the room—the same ice-blue eyes of all the Elvish—and though she didn’t speak, Dela was sure she was taking everything in. The older woman’s gaze alighted on Vehel, and Dela saw yearning in her eyes. Vehel held the woman’s gaze, something passing silently between them.

  Of course, this was Vehel’s mother.

  It was strange that she’d not embraced Vehel after him being away for so long, but clearly his father had banned her from doing so, and Vehel probably didn’t want to put her in a difficult situation by trying to embrace her himself. Even so, Dela couldn’t imagine not being able to hug her mother after so long. It must be killing them both to be so close and yet so far apart.

  Vehel’s two brothers studied her, and she studied them in return, wondering which of them was the one who’d taken her brother. She imagined she would be introduced to them after the meal was done.

  The tables were filled with silver platters filled with fish, bread, cheeses, and fruit. There were no meats, of course, and she glanced over to Warsgra, widening her eyes at him to warn him not to mention anything.

  She speared a piece of fish on her fork and held it to the baby dragon on her shoulder. The little creature exhaled a puff of fire, charring the fish black, before leaning in and snatching it from the tines, and gulping it down.

  Numerous eyes were drawn to the spectacle, not only of the baby dragon, but also of the four races seated together. The Elvish had longer living memories than the rest of the races, and she wondered if any of them were thinking back to the last time races had mixed together.

  Her thoughts went to when the Treaty had been signed. Was King Dawngleam right when he said the Dragonsayers had sent the dragons away? That they’d willingly given up their gift for the sake of peace? Why then, had her dragon come to her? He must have been alive back then. Could she allow herself to believe it was because she was different? The last thing she wanted was to throw Xantearos into chaos again, though she knew there would be a period of unrest until she was able to take the throne.

  She hoped her dragon was all right, circling the skies. Would he find a place in the nearby mountains to roost for the night? Dela hoped he trusted her with the baby. Perhaps she should have given the baby dragon back to him before she’d come into the castle, but she’d known Iros’s presence would garner Dela a certain amount of respect. If she had to go into the catacombs, however, she wouldn’t be taking either dragon down with her. She’d never risk them like that.

  Beautiful Elvish women in deep cut, long gowns, exposing plenty of cleavage, with white hair falling down their backs, moved between the tables, replenishing food and drinks. The women made Dela feel like a boy, and she didn’t miss how Warsgra’s gaze trailed after the one who’d just refilled the silver platters on their table.

  She shot him a glare.

  “What?” he said, trying to appear innocent.

  “You know what.”

  Warsgra grinned, exposing his straight, white teeth. “Nah, weird ears.”

  Dela held back laughter. It didn’t seem there was much laughter going on in the Elvish castle.

  One of the women in the long gowns poured a liquid into the metal goblet in front of her at the table.

  “What is this?”

  “Try it.” Vehel took a sip of his own. “But not too much. It’s strong.”

  She took a sip, and it burned fire down her throat. She clamped her hand over her mouth to hold back her coughs. “I’ll have to be careful with that.”

  Warsgra bumped her leg with his own. “I don’t know. I’d like to see a drunk Dela.”

  She widened her eyes at him again. “I can’t afford to get drunk, and neither can any of you.” She lowered her tone. “We have to keep our wits about us.”

  “No harm is going to come to any of us in my home,” Vehel said.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Vehel’s lips thinned. “They wouldn’t dare.”

  She hoped he was right. The air was already thick with tension, and she hadn’t even confronted his brother about what had happened to Ridley yet. She knew she was going to, though. It took every ounce of self control to stop herself launching across the long tables and grabbing the prince by the throat. She hated the smug expression on his face, the way he looked down at Vehel, as though he was somehow better than him. Of course, Vehten had no way of knowing Dela was the sister of a human man he’d taken from the Passover. They thought she was only here to get them on board with her plans for the future of Xantearos. Things were already tense, and she hadn’t even questioned Vehten yet.

  She couldn’t fault their hospitality, however. The food was plentiful, and the strong wine they drank was refilled if their cups looked even slightly empty. Beside her, the men—even Vehel—were starting to relax. The volume in the massive room grew louder, laughter and bellowed conversation bouncing off the walls. Dela, however, remained restrained, and she noted how Vehel’s father did the same.

  Dela reached up and stroked Iros. The baby dragon gave a small purr and nudged her head into Dela’s palm. Dela picked another piece of fish off her plate and fed it to the dragon. She was sure Iros would have preferred some fresh meat instead of fish, but the Elvish didn’t eat meat.

  The meal ended, and musicians were brought in to play to them. Dela refused to relax and enjoy herself. She didn’t trust the Dawngleam family. Something about them was definitely off, and threads of doubt wound their way through her. If she couldn’t trust them now, how was she supposed to be able to trust them in the coming months and years?

  She wanted to get Vehten alone.

  The others might not support her in this, but there was nothing she could do about that. She had to know what had happened to Ridley.

  She watched how the Elvish prince was swilling down the wine, his pale complexion becoming pink. It was strange how much he looked like Vehel, but she had to remember this wasn’t Vehel. Vehel had told her enough stories about his father and brothers to know they had never treated him kindly. They didn’t have Vehel’s nature, and she needed to remember that.

  She watched Vehten’s movements and when she saw him stand to leave the room, she got to her feet as well. Having Iros on her shoulder gave her extra bravery. The dragon might only be a baby, but she was more than capable of giving someone a nasty burn if they tried anything.

  “What are you doing?” Orergon hissed as she passed by.

  She touched his shoulder. “Nothing. I’ll be back shortly.”

  She wove quickly through the crowd. It was naïve to think no one was watching her go. All eyes were on the dragon, despite the musicians trying to take the attention.

  She slipped out of the Great Hall and into the hallway beyond.

  Vehten’s cloak flapped out behind him as he walked away.

  “Hey, Vehten. Wait.”

 
He stopped and turned at her voice, a frown marking his brow. “Well, well. It’s the dragon girl.”

  “I’m a Dragonsayer,” she said, instinctively reaching up to Iros. “Not a dragon girl.”

  “You’re here to take our kingdom away from us.”

  “Not at all. You can keep your kingdom. You just must respect my rulings.”

  He huffed out a laugh. “And respect my brother, too, I assume?”

  “That goes without saying.”

  His eyes narrowed, but a hint of a smile touched his lips. “How about you take a different brother? I’m not normally into human girls, but I can understand what he sees in you. Isn’t it better to have the older brother than the youngest?”

  “I don’t care about lineage, but while we’re on the topic of brothers, I do have something to ask you.”

  She could see her change of conversation startled him. “You do?”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out the picture of her and Ridley. Unfolding it, she held it out for him to see. “Do you recognize this man?”

  He gave the picture a cursory glance. “A human? No. You all look the same to me.”

  She wasn’t buying it. “Look closer.” She shoved the picture into his face. “You see how he looks like me? You wouldn’t have forgotten him so easily.”

  Vehten’s gaze flicked from the picture, back up to her face. “Yes, you do look alike. A relative, I assume?”

  “My brother, Ridley. According to Warsgra Tuskeye of the Norcs, you took him from the Southern Pass three years ago after the Long White Cloud had descended. I want to know why you took him and what you did with him after.”

  Vehten’s eyes narrowed, and he placed his long fingers to his lips. “Now you speak of it, I do remember. That was your brother, you say? Well, I can see the resemblance now, and not only in the way you look. Your brother was insulting us. He deserved everything he got.”

  “He wouldn’t have insulted another race. You must have done something to anger him.”

  Vehten laughed, and anger roiled inside Dela. On her shoulder, Iros must have sensed how Dela was feeling, as the little dragon drew herself to her full height and flapped her stubby wings.

  “I believe I may have referred to him as a peasant, but isn’t that exactly what he was? And after that he made some comment about how we wouldn’t keep our kingdom for much longer, and I took that as a threat to both myself and my people.”

  Dela narrowed her eyes. “He said you wouldn’t keep your kingdom? Why would he say that?”

  “How should I know? But he said change was coming. How was I supposed to not take that as a threat?”

  Her fingers went to Ridley’s ring at her throat. He’d given it to her right before he’d left. Was it possible that he’d known what she was, and perhaps what he was, too? Or at least had some idea of it? Her heart contracted with love for her brother and a deep yearning that things had worked out differently.

  “Tell me what you did with him,” she demanded.

  “I brought him back here, and, when he refused to apologize for what he said, I put him where we put all the people we want to forget about.”

  “The catacombs.”

  Vehten’s fingers went to his lips. “Ah, so Vehel told you about that.”

  “Of course. So my brother is somewhere below the castle right now?”

  He gave a cold laugh. “First of all, you must understand that no one survives three years in the catacombs. And secondly, the entrance to the catacombs is below the castle, but the catacombs themselves are something else entirely. I’m not even sure they’re a part of this world. That’s the whole reason we put people down there—because we know they’re never coming back.”

  “You murdered my brother by putting him down there,” she spat. On her shoulder, Iros screeched and flapped her wings again, clearly agitated by Dela’s anger.

  “He insulted our family’s honor. I wasn’t going to just let him go.”

  “And if I insult your family’s honor, will you try to put me down there, too?” Her anger was fierce now. She could feel it pulsing through her veins, solidifying in her chest.

  “Dela, what are you doing?” Vehel’s voice came from behind her.

  He must have followed her out of the Great Hall, but she didn’t turn to face him.

  “Your brother has admitted to killing mine,” she said, her voice cold, never taking her gaze from Vehten. “An act like that can’t go unpunished.”

  “If you lay a single finger on me,” Vehten warned, “my father will wage war against you. You will never have the Elvish on your side. Any dream of peace will be destroyed.”

  “I hate to say it, Dela,” Vehel said, “but he’s right.”

  Dela didn’t want to hear it. How was she supposed to just let this go? For the sake of Xantearos, for the rest of the country? Would she be destroying everything for her own selfish desire for revenge?

  “Show me where the entrance to the catacombs are.” She spoke from between gritted teeth.

  Vehel’s tone was hard. “Dela, no.”

  Finally, she turned to look at him. The others had followed out behind him and were standing a little back, Warsgra and Orergon, side by side. More of the Elvish would be out soon as well, wondering what was happening.

  “Ridley might still be alive down there. You can’t ask me to abandon him.”

  “No one lives down there for any length of time.” Vehten laughed.

  She spun back around, and Iros opened her mouth and exhaled a spurt of fire. “Stop talking. You should be thankful you’re still alive. And before you start getting too confident, remember I have a full-sized dragon out there who could turn you to ash within seconds.”

  Vehten clamped his mouth shut, and she took a moment of satisfaction in seeing the fear in his eyes. He knew she was capable of it. Maybe there was just enough crazy in her to make people wonder if she would throw everything away for the one thing she truly believed in.

  The doors of the Great Hall swung open, and a number of people barreled out, the king at their center.

  “What is all of this?” King Dawngleam bellowed.

  “It’s nothing, Father,” Vehten said with a forced smile. “We were just talking, that’s all.”

  “Yes, just talking,” Dela replied.

  So, Vehten didn’t want his father to know he’d taken a human man from the Southern Pass. Would that have broken the Treaty in itself? Maybe Vehel wasn’t the one they should be blaming for all of this? She didn’t know the rules of the Treaty well enough to know the finer detail, but surely something must have been put in place to prevent one race from harming a member of another?

  “The night is almost over,” the king said. “Everyone should get some rest.”

  “Yes, of course. It’s been a long day,” she replied. “We could all do with the rest.”

  She looked to the others, widening her eyes and nodding at them to tell them to let this drop. She’d got what she’d wanted, and even if it didn’t look as though she’d get her revenge just yet, Vehten had acknowledged what he’d done. She’d spent the last three years not knowing what had happened to Ridley, and at least now she did, in part. She still didn’t know what had happened to him once he’d been put into the catacombs, and her heart tightened with pain. How frightened would he have been? Was he hurt when he was down there? Had he spent days or weeks in fear and pain?

  The tension that had been building in the corridor began to dissipate as more people left the Great Hall and wandered off to bed. Plenty were in high spirits, their laughter and singing filling the air. There was still an invisible line of strain between her and Vehten, and even though he patted his father on the shoulder and smiled, he knew as well as her that this wasn’t over.

  The revelers went their separate ways, some of the males taking the females who’d been serving them back to their rooms.

  “We should get some rest, too,” she said, deliberately not making eye contact with Warsgra or Orergon.
Vehel, however, she needed to speak with.

  They had all had their fill of the wine. Vehel was used to it, but from the slightly glazed expressions on Warsgra and Orergon’s faces, she thought they both could do with sleeping it off.

  “You should come to bed with me, Dela,” Warsgra growled, looking at her from under his hair. “I’ll protect you.”

  Orergon pushed him away. “She’s not going to bed with anyone, are you, Dela?”

  He looked to her for confirmation. “Not tonight, no,” she replied, though deep down she would have loved nothing more than to be with her men, to give herself over to them physically, to let them take her mind away from all of this, and take comfort and security in their arms. But there was something else she needed to do.

  “Good night, Warsgra,” she said, leaning in and kissing him gently on the mouth. His hands found her waist, and he crushed her to him. A pulse of desire went through her, but she forced herself away.

  “You, too, Orergon.” She also placed a kiss to his mouth. He made no move to hold her, but she could feel him studying her with those dark eyes of his. She had the feeling he knew she was up to more than she was letting on.

  “Good night, Vehel.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek, but whispered in his ear. “Come to my room.”

  They exchanged a glance, and Vehel replied with the briefest of nods.

  She didn’t like to hide anything from the others, but it was better this way.

  She left them to go to her room and wait. The baby dragon flew on ahead of her, taking a perch in the deep windowsill of the bedroom.

  Dela looked out onto the night sky beyond. “Bet you wish you were out there, huh?”

  Iros chirped then lifted a wing and tucked her head under the leathery fold. She’d been through a lot on only her second day of life. Poor little thing was probably exhausted.

  Dela perched on the edge of the fourposter bed. The mattress was deep and soft, the sheets silky and clean. She’d never experienced this kind of luxury before. No wonder the Elvish didn’t want things to change. Their smaller population made feeding everyone far easier than the larger Norcs or the Moerians, plus they were smaller in stature, too. But Vehel couldn’t have been the only one whose magic had been repressed. There must be other Elvish out there who would also like the freedom to do what came most naturally to them. Who else was hiding who they truly were?