Dance of the Dragon Sorceress [Tangere Tales 3] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting)

by Heather Rainier

  Don’t. Even. Think. It.

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

  She strode forward, clad in a shimmering crimson and black gown. Tiny red scales formed the bodice portion of the gown, providing armor even though they’d come from small, barely molted little dragons.

  Once, while groveling at her feet, he’d gotten a closer look at the odd fabric of the skirt and had realized it was the numerous skins of baby dragons that had been dyed and stitched together before being constructed into the gown. A stiff red ruff of small dragon wings was worn ’round her neck and held in place by an ornate gold clasp made to look like grasping claws. The dress was trimmed with the luxuriant, silky feathers of day-old baby dragons. Her pale skin, shown off in abundance by the cut of the gown, and long, straight white hair were the only light things about her, the luster made even more intense by the darkness of her costume. Not that there was any light in her—

  He gulped, putting a stop to his mental rambling.

  With a growl, she turned, and he was thrown to the stone floor and dragged by unseen hands closer to the throne.

  “You might as well stay down there, Vermin,” she murmured as she fluffed out her gown and took her seat, crossing her legs in such a way that nearly every inch of them shown through the placket that draped open in the front of the skirt.

  Draconia lifted her silver hand mirror from the stand by her throne, where it was always kept in readiness. Making a pouty face, she gazed at herself, angling the mirror to see her image at different angles as she flicked her hair back. She would be considered quite lovely if it weren’t for the evil that emanated from her.

  Pain entered his skull as his forehead thumped against the floor once. “Silence, cretin.”

  “Sorry, Eminence.”

  “Unless you have it hidden upon your grotesquely huge personage, I assume you haven’t brought me any sacrifices?”

  “No, ma’am, but I was able to do as you bid me. They took me in just as you said they would.”

  They’d fed him well, and the cook, a purely glorious woman known as Tiggi, had even given him a comfy blanket to bed down on next to the hearth in the warm kitchen, in thanks, she’d said, for catching and killing the rat that had frightened her. His stomach wobbled at the thought. His tangere wasn’t the choosiest when in that form, and Fermin’s digestion often paid the price for its questionable diet.

  “And?” she asked, making an impatient rolling gesture with her long fingers with their gruesomely long pointed nails. Talons almost—

  “They have a visitor. Someone you’d never expect to see there…well…” Should he tell?

  On his way back to the palace, he’d wondered what kind of world it would be if he withheld some of the information he possessed—not that he could do so if she dragged it out of him. Sometimes she could delve into his mind and see his memories. A singularly horrible sensation, like pointed fingernails dragging heavily along his opened spine, but one that required numerous sacrifices to strengthen her magic. She might not have the ability at this moment if a huntsman hadn’t recently brought her a sacrifice.

  “Well…what?” she asked, clenching the arm of the throne, carved to resemble dragons’ claws. She looked a tiny bit tired around the eyes. Mayhap she couldn’t force the information from him this time. Still, he had to give her something.

  “There is a girl in the abbey.”

  “A girl?”

  “And the girl had a dragon with her.”

  She sat forward, her knuckles turning white as her grip tightened. “Is it the heir? What would she be doing with the heir?” A dragon huntsman had returned with news of the sighting of the queen of the dragons, and a rumor of the impending arrival of the new dragon heir at the lair of the knights who defended the dragons and trained their offspring. Draconia had dispatched an entire battalion of dragon huntsmen to search for Cirruth the Cunning with orders to bring her down at all costs. She’d offered a staggering reward if the heir was brought to her still in its shell. Such had obviously not happened.

  “I don’t know if it was the heir,” he replied, thinking thoughts about chasing a deer in the forest and the rat in the kitchen, perhaps warding her off from his memories.

  The dragonling had watched him warily at supper the night before, as if knowing he was a tangere, but had not given him away. He could at least try to return the favor.

  “Why didn’t you take the dragonling for me?”

  “He sleeps with her, Your Eminence.”

  “With the girl? How odd.”

  “He is an odd one, ma’am. She snuck into the abbey. And when I snooped in her room, I could smell a hint of fae magic.”

  “Fae,” Draconia growled. “Probably that troll, Selena, interfering in my territory. Did you see her?”

  “No. I would’ve investigated further, but they tied me to a banister. I tried to get their attention, but they wouldn’t let me loose so I could follow the scent.”

  “Fool.”

  As if I can help being a great howling behemoth of a tangere. His tangere didn’t have very good judgment of what was actually helpful.

  “Shut up. What else?”

  He couldn’t help the quirk of his eyebrows at her contradiction of herself and was grateful she wasn’t looking directly at him, or she’d have seen the gesture and punished him for it.

  He didn’t want to say anything else. It was bad enough he told her of the girl, Elaina. She’d been nice to him. Draconia was never nice to him. Elaina had spoken kindly to him, even though she would’ve been justified if she feared him because, in tangere form, he was nearly as big as one of the bears that were known to roam the forest.

  There wasn’t a kind bone in Draconia’s body. Instead of calling him by his given name, she called him Vermin.

  Kneeling before Draconia, he was utterly terrified as he searched his mind for some bit of knowledge that might satisfy her.

  “The Knights of the Dragon have made the abbey their permanent stronghold. By the smells, I could tell they’d been there a while/”

  She took her time digesting that information, rhythmically tapping the carved arm of the throne with her sharpened fingernails. The sound sent shivers of foreboding up his spine. There were rumors as to why she kept them dagger sharp—

  She sighed and lifted the edge of the pocket hidden in a side seam of her skirt as she murmured, “I was willing to do this the easy way, but you leave me no choice, Vermin.”

  “Your Eminence?” he whispered as she pulled a crimson silk handkerchief from the pocket. With a casual flick of her fingertips, she laid an edge of it open on her lap, enough to give him a glimpse of the contents.

  He stuttered, and the words fell from him quick as water from a waterfall, all in an ever-growing rush. Crown prince Basile was alive. Chief Dragon Huntsmen Rainger Galterrium was aiding the Order of the Knights of the Dragon in their cause to help and protect the dragons. And worst of all, he’d seen the two men Draconia had wanted most in her bed, but had never had, kissing Elaina. And the baby dragon was indeed the rumored heir.

  Oh, maman and papa, forgive me!

  “You’d do better asking me for forgiveness, Vermin. Now, just to make sure you’ve told me everything and left nothing out…”

  She flicked open the last fold of the blood-red hankie, revealing a tiny, perfectly formed, magical heart. The heart of a baby dragon.

  “No!” he cried out, not caring that the sound of his anguish was likely heard by the guard down below.

  “Oh yes,” she crowed victoriously before popping it in her mouth and moaning in delight as she chewed, licking her bloodstained lips with enjoyment.

  He knelt there quivering, his forehead still plastered to the floor, as she rose from the throne and stepped down.

  All he could see was the pointed toes of her red dragon-skin slippers. All he could feel was the sensation of sharp claws dragging along his temple as she clawed her way into his mind telepathical
ly. His simple mind was never intended to be a defense against such awful magic, and it took her no time at all to find what she wanted.

  He was a dead man now for certain, he thought as she let out a long, infuriated scream.

  “She’s more beautiful than me!”

  Chapter Seven

  “All day long?” Elaina asked as she finally relinquished her charge to the leader of the knights.

  “All day long,” Lord Violet confirmed, but there was no condescension in his tone. “This time of accelerated growth is uncomfortable for young dragons. Thanks to you, he seems to have rested well last night, and he’s more than ready to handle his training today. With each successive day, he’ll grow stronger and more capable. You’ve had a powerful impact on his development. Not many dragons are as sociable as Zayrgrud is. It took me months to gain the kind of empathy with Zyrsyrrys the Horrific that you have with his son. It’s extraordinary.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m used to small children who need time and attention.”

  “I remember you talking about your employment in your world. Growth moves at an accelerated pace for dragons, as you can see,” he said, gesturing to the mandala she was gathering into a bundle to take outside.

  She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Flappy hadn’t been covered in fur, like she’d thought. He’d been covered in dragon feathers. He’d molted during the night, all of the microscopic filaments coming loose with a thin layer of webbing, leaving behind tiny scaly armor. And what she’d thought had been itchy bristly feathers on his face were actually the beginnings of spikes.

  Poor Flappy had been just as surprised as she was to wake up in his nest of loose furry feathers. He hadn’t known what to make of it until Lord Violet had knocked on her door early that morning.

  Evidently the knight had expected this development. A calm whispered conversation with him in the dragon language had done quite a bit to calm Flappy, but she was still a little freaked to find he’d changed from her soft, silky baby into a little dragon clad in iridescent green scales.

  Around his face, the softer bristles had begun to fall away, leaving him with a comical half-baked look, still partly fuzzy around his mouth with tougher spiky bristles that would actually be intimidating if he got very big.

  The bumps on the top of his head had also grown into a whole row of lumpy nubs, and she didn’t even want to know what was up with that. It was as if he’d hit full-blown dragon adolescence all at once. What was next? Mood swings?

  He’d also gotten bigger, and he moved as if his body ached. Poor baby. She resisted the urge to reach out and pat his head.

  Normally rather stoic and formal, Lord Violet gave her a compassionate smile as if he understood the urge. “There is a hot spring cavern beneath the abbey. Any of the knights can show you the way to it. We’re working on simple flight today, so Zayrgrud will be sore and shaky by the time we are finished. The waters have minerals, and it would be therapeutic for him to have a swim. You might enjoy it, too.”

  She looked around the already tidy room and then at Lord Violet. “All right, then. What else can I do around here while I wait for your return?”

  “You’re our guest. You can do whatever you want. Explore the abbey if you like. I’d suggest taking one or two of the knights with you if you go outside for any length of time.”

  “That sounds like a distraction for them. I want to be helpful. I can be employed somehow while you have him during the day. I’d like to contribute.”

  “You would?”

  “Of course. Since I’m…here…and going home isn’t on the table.”

  “You’re not our prisoner. I must stress that to you, Elaina. You can leave at any time.”

  “I know. I just need Selena’s help in order to make that happen.”

  “As I said last night, Selena is the reason you’re here. She doesn’t do anything without a good purpose. You can trust her.” He paused, his eyes taking on a faraway quality as he cast them downward, and then he grinned. Though he said nothing further, Elaina noted the ruddy flush that came into his cheeks.

  Must be Selena doing more of her telepathic mind stuff. None of my business.

  “There is something you could see to, to pass the time.” Lord Violet pondered for a moment, raised a finger, and opened his mouth to speak but then shook his head. “No, we don’t know him well enough. He’s rather too large for you to handle, I’m sure.”

  “What? How do you know what I can or can’t handle? I’ve managed a nursery full of colicky babies screaming all at once on a day when we were shorthanded, and I did just fine.”

  “That sounds terrifying,” he said, sincerity showing in his eyes. “Did you cast a sleeping spell on them?”

  “No! As if! I put the colic hold on them, made sure they weren’t gassy, and had them all fed, changed, and quiet as little lambs by the end of my shift. No screeching baby can withstand my magic.” She waggled her fingers at him.

  She’d said it jokingly, but his eyebrows arched and he looked down at Flappy, who perched on his forearm, his wings out at odd angles as he tried to fold them up with little success. They’d gotten bigger, too.

  “All right then. You recall the stray dog? I have not seen him about this morning, but he needs some attention, if he’s to stay. Normally, I’d leave a dog to its own business, but he seems to have had a hard time of it and could use—”

  “I helped my friend, Caresse, when she worked summers at her dad’s veterinary clinic. I can handle him. A thorough brushing and a bath would be a good place to start. And an improvement in his diet will help his other…problems.”

  Lord Violet nodded, seeming relieved she understood. “Our cook, Tiggi, can provide you with soap, and she’s already told me she’ll see to his food and accommodations.”

  “Looks like I’m going to have a busy day.”

  “Good, if that’s what you want, Mistress.”

  He nodded, bid her a good day, and walked away before she could argue about the title they insisted on using. She followed them to the door when she heard Lord Violet speak, thinking someone else had joined them in the hallway, but he was still alone with Flappy as he said, “You’re looking very fit today, Highness. Yes, she is a dear one. Indeed, I do believe she cares very much for you. How could she not love such a fine brave dragon as yourself? Yes, I’m certain you will make her proud, as you will all of your family. We’re grateful that she saved you. Today? Highness, today you learn to fly…” Violet’s raspy growly tone held a hint of affection.

  “That big ol’ softy. He tries to act stern and formal, but he doesn’t fool me.”

  The one-sided conversation continued as Lord Violet stalked down the corridor with the baby dragon perched on his forearm, flapping his wings awkwardly in his excitement. Evidently Selena wasn’t the only one Lord Violet could communicate with telepathically. She chuckled when Flappy crowed with excitement as they disappeared down the stairs.

  Knowing he was in good hands, she grabbed her backpack and the bundled-up mandala. “I’ll explore with Flappy when he gets back. For now, I’ve got things to do.”

  The first item on her agenda was shaking the feathers and fluff out the mandala so it would be ready for Flappy to use that night. She’d considered just emptying the cloth out the leaded window that provided light and air for her bedroom, but there was a small balcony on the floor below. She didn’t want to create a mess for the person who used it—although, if it was Bleu’s balcony, she’d gladly dump the detritus on his grumpy head just to get a reaction.

  It seemed silly to draft knights to escort her outside to handle the chore, but it was a good thing she had when she spotted the mound of black fur while giving the cloth a good shake.

  The massive canine was curled up against one of the huge columns outside the sprawling main entrance. Bleu let out a shocked sound and ran to it. He liked to give off an uncaring, impervious air around her, but he didn’t fool her at all. She approached wi
th caution, and only came near when they reassured her the poor dog was out cold.

  “Wonder what happened to it?” Rouge asked as he cautiously handled the poor beast’s extremities. It’d curled up in a tight ball as if it had been in a lot of pain, but its head lolled in her lap.

  After checking and finding a steady pulse, she helped the knights to lift the beast. Rouge waved her off and pointed to a burlap sack sitting near the door. “Would you mind bringing that in? I wonder who left a delivery out here without letting one of us know about it?”

  She peeked in the sack and pulled out a gloriously red, ripe apple. “Is there an orchard near here?”

  “Never mind about the apples,” Bleu said, grunting under the weight of the dog’s front end. “Just bring it in and we’ll let Tiggi know about them. The door. Get the door.”

  They placed the dog before the fireplace in what must’ve once been a receiving room of some kind. It was a wide room lined with windows on one side, providing excellent light.

  Tiggi, Mordo the guardsman’s sister, came running and fluttered around the dog and directed one of her helpers to take the bag of apples to the kitchen and bring back a bucket of hot water and clean rags.

  While Elaina checked the dog for injuries, Tiggi began to gently clean him up. The dog, Odie as she’d called him the night before, looked like he’d been abused. There were no bite marks, but she found plenty of abrasions. He had a terrible knot on his head.

  He gave a light whimper when Elaina pressed on his ribs, and the tenderhearted cook sniffled a little.

  “I think he may have some cracked ribs, but nothing feels broken.”

  “Odd,” Tiggi murmured as she lightly touched his closed, swollen eye. “Does that…”

  Elaina felt sick to her stomach. “Why would someone punch a dog in the face? Who would do this?” She looked up to find Rouge and Bleu crouched nearby, watching their ministrations, concern on their faces.

  “Sir Knights, we’ll attend to the dog, and I won’t be going outside anymore today, so if you…”

  “We will investigate the matter,” Bleu said as he rose and stalked from the room, casting a single glance over his shoulder.