by Black, C. I.
Anaea, I—
His voice was soft, heartbreakingly tender, like it had been last night.
Any more kindness and she’d shatter. Let’s get going.
But—
Please. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. They were dry. Good. It wouldn’t do for you to show up at this ceremony weepy and red-eyed.
Okay. He didn’t sound as if he agreed. But he didn’t push either. Put on the robe hanging in the wardrobe.
She clutched the sheet around her, padded across his plush carpet, and opened the cabinet. There wasn’t a lot inside, a black suit, a knee-length black leather coat, and a red robe that looked more like armor than clothing.
It’s scale mail. Pieces of metal, shaped like scales and sewn to create a cloak.
She slipped it off the hanger. The thing weighed a ton, but was gorgeous. It reminded her of her dragon hide from the dream. Red with a hint of gold, darker on the back and arms, and paler on the front.
It represents what I— He grew quiet, as if steadying himself. What I once was.
It’s beautiful.
Thanks. The heat of embarrassment rippled through her. Now put it on.
I need some clothes first.
He chuckled. It seeped into her. Dragons aren’t shy, remember? The ceremony requires the cloak and only the cloak.
You mean— She shivered at the thought of putting it on. This is going to be freezing.
It warms up.
Swell.
He chuckled again and warmth eased over her bare skin. The cloak resembles what we were. And we were also naked and fragile under our scales.
Before you became spirits?
Yes.
She shifted, uncertain what to say next. She was dying to know what had happened. What could possibly turn all the dragons in the world into spirits? But just the thought seemed to fill Hunter with such pain. It must have been terrible.
It happened a long time ago. But the weight of his emotion told her it still hurt.
And everything your people do is somehow connected to it.
That kind of attack isn’t something easily forgotten. But now I’m not sure if I can blame those humans. They were afraid.
Fear makes people do stupid things.
It certainly makes dragons do stupid things. A few Greek sorcerers just before the first century were terrified the Romans would enslave dragon-kind and use us to conquer them. Because of them, we lost everything. Our bodies, our families, our sense of safety. Even our goddess. She gave up everything she was and had, and diminished into another dimension so our spirits could survive. I remember her flying among us, a great shimmering dragon, and now she’s gone. We hide in this inter-dimensional sphere and make laws that restrict what we can do and how we can live, because we’re afraid that you’ll discover our meager existence and try to finish what your ancestors started.
The ache of that betrayal brought tears to her eyes. She could only imagine how devastated she’d feel if everyone and everything she knew was destroyed. Dragon-kind wasn’t living, they were barely surviving.
Hunter growled and the pain radiating from him was muted. Come on, we’ve got a ceremony to complete.
That they did. She dropped the sheet and pulled on the cloak. Cold red silk lined the inside. It slid against her skin, setting her nerves on high alert.
A low rumble filled her, vibrating through her head. Was that another growl? No. Not a growl. There was nothing angry about it. It was a purr, a heated, sensual purr. As soon as she realized it, Hunter stopped.
What was that?
Nothing.
She could sense his lie, but had no idea why he’d said it, or what it meant.
Pull up the hood.
She shoved the too-long sleeves back to free her hands and snagged the hood, pulling it forward. It hung low, obscuring her vision save for a few feet before her. I feel like I’m a little kid in my father’s shirt.
It is a little big.
Hope looking ridiculous will work for this ceremony.
Hunter snorted. You couldn’t look ridiculous in anything. Besides, we’re just there to present the medallion and take it back when everything is done.
That I think I can handle.
And then we’ll gate out of here and meet up with Grey.
Yeah. A sparkly new body for you. And then all of this would be over and she could go back to the business of dying. She didn’t know how she felt about that. In a way it would be a relief to have Hunter out of her head, to not have to kill anyone else. On the other hand—
At least she’d have her dream. The one she really wasn’t going to think about right now.
* * *
The memory of their shared dream flashed through Anaea’s mind. Hunter fought the urge to start purring again, but had to admit it was a better feeling than remembering the pain of the Great Scourge. If he wasn’t already a spirit, he’d swear she was going to be the death of him. Death by sensual thought. Not necessarily a bad way to go.
Thankfully she clamped down on the memories and focused on closing the many clasps down the front of the cloak. He was in deep trouble if that simple dream, the one he’d guided within her mind to keep her soul from becoming sick, was affecting him as well. Although the feel of the silk lining sliding over her skin wasn’t a dream and so much more enticing.
It was a good thing they’d have separate bodies within a couple of hours.
And then he’d be free to explore her for real, all of her, not just her lips. He had no idea how he was going to make it work, but there would be something between them. If he hadn’t been certain of that before, he was now. The panic that had threatened her sanity earlier when she’d discovered what he was had eased and she hadn’t lost her mind. In fact, she seemed more comfortable with him now than she had before. Of course, that didn’t mean the next little thing couldn’t send her spiraling into insanity while he remained within her. But once he was out, surely there was a way to keep her safe from Regis.
Mother of All, who was he kidding? Once a mage was discovered, Regis and the Asar Nergal were relentless in pursuing them. Or at least so he’d thought. Those mages who had attacked him in the hospital were the first he’d seen in three hundred years. Still, he had to sever all ties with her. And yet he couldn’t deny his attraction to her.
For goodness’ sake, he’d purred. Dragons only purred with their inamoratas. Which meant no matter how ridiculous it seemed, his spirit had made a decision. One that in no way was fair for Anaea. Dragons didn’t mate often, making them rare even before the Great Scourge, but like swans and wolves once inamorated they mated for life. And as much as they’d taken on some human traits with their human bodies, like promiscuity, the compulsion to take a permanent mate still compelled some dragons.
He just never anticipated an inamorata would ever be in his future, let alone a human one. Humans’ lives were so fleeting, even those few who had soul magic. Which made his spirit’s choice all the more complicated. Humans thought the secret to healthy old age was green tea, but in truth those centenarians had a hint of soul magic slowing nature’s course. Hunter could only hope that Anaea was the very rare human with strong soul magic and lived an unnaturally long life, like Methuselah. But that went hand in hand with sorcery which hadn’t been seen since the Great Scourge and, again, he was back to it being complicated.
Regardless, Hunter faced a shattered heart. Either his human inamorata lived a normal human life, forcing him to face the rest of an eternity of emptiness after her passing, or she was that which dragon-kind feared the most and dragon law demanded be destroyed: a sorcerer.
And none of that mattered. He was compelled to put her needs before his, protect her, even if that meant protecting her from himself. Regis would never accept her as a Court sorcerer and she didn’t belong in his world. Heck. He didn’t even belong in his world. The only way for him to be with her would be to leave his job and the only way to do that was through rebirth, which would mean losing his memorie
s of Anaea. The only honorable solution to this mess was to let her go.
It burned to think the best thing for her was to cut her free, but he could do it. Really. He had to. They hadn’t known each other for that long. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt that much. But inamoratas didn’t work that way.
CHAPTER 19
The rebirth chamber lay deep within the Dragon Court, accessible only through a maze of passages and unused chambers. Hunter had no idea why, when the magic sphere had been discovered, that a chamber so removed from the rest of Court had been selected. But it had. The Handmaiden’s prerogative, he supposed.
She was the only true dragon sorcerer and all that power probably made her feel separate from dragon-kind. It certainly gave her an air of mystery. Not that she’d particularly made an effort to fit in. With the rebirth chamber distanced from Court, she could enspell the area so no one could gate in or out without permission and scrying inside was impossible, ensuring the privacy she craved.
For as long as Hunter had known her, her only dragon contact had been brief audiences with Regis, time with Tobias dealing with replacement bodies, Hunter, those she rebirthed, and, of course, Grey—who for reasons Hunter didn’t understand had sworn himself into her service even though he still belonged to the Silver Coterie. He’d never seen her at any royal functions or at the pahar. She was the sole means of survival for their dying race and yet completely apart from it.
So she’s powerful, Anaea said.
To say the least. She’s a true sorcerer.
And that is?
Dangerous, in a word. But he didn’t think Anaea would be satisfied with such a simple answer. A true sorcerer can cast spells. They don’t just have one or two abilities, they can do anything and most don’t even need words or gestures. The sorcerers who tried to destroy us weren’t all that powerful, but when they joined their magic together they had enough collective strength to cast a devastating spell. A true sorcerer is terrifying. They just think about whatever they want to cast, draw on their connection to the earth’s magic, and it happens.
When we were with Jade you thought about her sorcerer ability.
I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that.
Hunter felt a blush creep over Anaea’s cheeks. With the memories you have of her, it’s kind of hard to forget. That and the crazy hair thing.
Yeah, well. She has a hint of sorcerer ability, just enough to change her appearance with a thought, but she’s nothing like the Handmaiden. I don’t think anyone knows how powerful she is. The Handmaiden made Court, she found this inter-dimensional space, willed all the rooms and halls and galleries into existence with her thoughts. She used her magic to create the air, the light, everything.
So why isn’t she in charge?
I don’t know. She’s an enigma. She keeps herself apart from our society. She doesn’t belong to a coterie, doesn’t need to, and doesn’t seem to want to.
Anaea stopped at the threshold to the chamber, a narrow arch with dragons carved in the stone to create a doorframe. She traced the wings of one with a fingertip. I got the impression last night that everyone was in a coterie.
Dragons without a coterie don’t last long. Or at least they didn’t in the early days. Unless, of course, you’re the Handmaiden. My coterie didn’t survive the transition from physical to spirit and I had to choose. I chose the most powerful coterie I could, Regis’s. But now most of that power is because the Handmaiden supports Constantine and Regis. It’s probably the only reason they still rule.
Even though it seems everyone hates their rules.
Many believe that those rules have kept our people, what little we have left, alive.
And you?
He didn’t know. In the beginning he’d believed it, believed the only way to stay safe was to remain hidden. But they weren’t really dragons any more, they were something else, and clinging to the old ways no longer seemed to work. I think at one time the rules were important and change is hard.
Which is why you’re still in feudal clan groupings.
For all their negatives, the coteries are the closest we can get to families now. We’re a race of spirits. There are no more of us.
You can’t have children?
We lost that ability when we lost our physical forms. The coteries are all we have now.
A hint of melancholy slid through her. She was without a coterie as well. Someone in her life had isolated her from friends and family and now she believed she faced a death sentence. It astounded him how brave she was, not wanting to renew her old connections so they wouldn’t have to watch her die.
Anaea— How he wished she hadn’t become so good at hiding her thoughts from him.
I don’t blame you for throwing your lot in with Regis, or for...
Images of the wasu tahazu flashed through her mind and bile burned the back of her throat.
He was such a fool. Just because she hadn’t lost her mind the moment she’d learned what he was didn’t mean she’d accept him. Besides, it wasn’t his original form that he needed her to accept, but the killer he’d made himself into to protect himself. Yes, he was a predator, but he’d encouraged that, embraced it, to become the Prince’s Assassin. And he’d forced her into his world and stained her hands. Mother of All, he really was a beast.
Let’s just finish this, he growled.
She jumped and he yanked back his frustration. She didn’t deserve anything he’d brought her. Even the new life he’d given her had been at a hefty price to her psyche.
Sorry, I—
It’s okay. She stepped into the dim hall that ran left and right. It’s been a stressful couple of days for me, too.
The hall ringed the chamber, archways opening into it at regular intervals. Anaea entered by the closest arch and strode to the altar in the center of the room. He could sense her desire to gawk at the massive statues and the carved ceiling, but she kept focused on the three naked corpses on the altar, maintaining the guise that she was him. He definitely didn’t deserve her.
“I see a new cloak will need to be commissioned,” the Handmaiden said, emerging from the shadows at the far entrance. She was a tall, middle-aged woman who had looked middle-aged for as long as Hunter had known her, having never been forced to abandon her original body and for some reason not bothered to change her appearance with magic. Under her jeweled and etched-silver hood were wisps of black and silver hair.
“Ah... yes.” Anaea inched the hood back to expand her field of vision.
The Handmaiden’s eyes narrowed. Hunter could only imagine what she was thinking. If anyone could see through the charade that only Hunter inhabited Anaea’s body it would be the Handmaiden. He prayed she wouldn’t notice, but it was probably better to pray that she just wouldn’t say anything. Hunter had always respected her and the rules. He could only hope for leniency for his first offense.
“I never thought of you as a gender hopper.”
Not this again.
Anaea rolled her eyes. She was getting tired of this as well.
Hand over the medallion and let’s get this over with.
Agreed. She pushed the hood off and slid the chain over her head.
“Business as usual, I see.” The Handmaiden took the offered medallion. “Just like your body, things are changing.”
What did that mean?
“And that means...?” Anaea asked.
The Handmaiden shrugged and turned to the first body, a medium-built, thirty-something male. “I don’t know, but I can sense it.”
If Hunter had brows, he’d furrow them. He’d grind his teeth, too. This was the most conversation he’d had with the Handmaiden in centuries.
“When the time comes you must look after your own.”
His own? He was a dragon without a coterie, or at least one he had any affection for. He didn’t have anyone else.
As if she could hear his thoughts, she leveled her silver gaze on Anaea, making her shiver.
“Yes. Definitely a new robe. Narr
ower in the shoulders, but just as long.” Blue flashed around her and she offered a weak smile.
What was that? Anaea asked.
I have no idea.
I think this might be a first. Us not knowing the same thing.
Ha, he said, filling her thoughts with as much sarcasm as he could muster. It still isn’t safe for you to know what you do about me.
And yet, I feel so much better knowing why I’m supposed to be terrified.
You’re hardly terrified. It was one of the things he’d forever be grateful for: her strength and courage to hold on in what had to be a bizarre situation.
I tried terror with... with something else. It didn’t get me very far.
The Handmaiden awakened the medallion with a glance and Hunter knew she was concentrating on bringing the spell to life. Heat rippled through Anaea.
Funny, now that the Handmaiden had it, Anaea shouldn’t sense the magic within it.
What’s she doing?
Casting the rebirth spell.
Oh that’s informative.
Hunter bit back an internal grin. The rebirth spell is the only way we can get a fresh start. It wipes everything from our soul but what’s permanently imprinted on it, color and gender. You have no memories, all of your stuff is given to your doyen, and you’re essentially a baby, the youngest member of your coterie.
That sucks. Anaea shivered. Have you ever been reborn?
No, but more than half of our population has at some point. And some found the rebirth a blessing. Two thousand years’ worth of memories wasn’t necessarily a kindness.
How does it work?
Remember those words I put in your head when Pearl jumped us in the hotel room in Elmsville?
He felt Anaea struggle to hide a nod.
Those words activated the medallion. The Handmaiden made the medallion to capture souls in the event that punishments were needed or a soul could be saved if a vessel was damaged beyond healing. The medallion keeps the soul cohesive for a short period in your dimension, and a little longer in the Court dimension.