“You would enjoy that, would you not?” he asked, sliding the tips of his first two fingers into her.
She let out a gasp. “Hell yes I would,” she said.
He pushed his fingers up another inch. “Then ready yourself, dragon girl,” he said. “For you are about to get—”
“Sire?”
Corban turned his head to see a servant, a young woman standing near them, holding a silver tray filled with goblets of wine. Corban snatched his hand out from beneath Miranda's dress. The serving girl's blush was plain to see even in the shadow of the pillar. She turned to go, but a bellowing voice called out.
“You there, girl!” the voice said. “What are you ogling over there? Where are our drinks?”
Corban heard a heavy wooden chair screech on the floor as the owner of the voice headed this way. The girl was frozen in place, her eyes wide with terror at being put in this position.
Corban pulled away from Miranda, standing up straight and clasping his hands behind his back. She stood up straight as well, the hem of her dress falling back down. She was straightening it with her hands when the giant bearded man came around the curve of the pillar.
The man wore the red scaled armor of the Wildfire clan, his black hair falling around his shoulders. He reached out to the tray the girl was holding and snatched a goblet of wine, lifting it to his lips and taking a gulp. Then he turned his head and saw Corban and his daughter standing behind the pillar. He smiled, his teeth huge and white.
“There he is,” the man said. “Little boy blue, with my precious Siccora.” He staggered forward. Before Corban could react, Karth Wildfire had scooped him up into a bear hug, hefting him off the ground.
Gods, Corban thought. The man is drunk out of his mind. Being hugged by him was akin to being mauled.
“It’s good to finally meet you,” Corban said once he was set back on the ground.
“And what were the two of you doing back here?” Karth said. “Stealing a kiss?”
“Just talking,” Miranda said.
Karth took another huge gulp of wine and looked back and forth between them. He laughed again.
He drew close enough to hug them both and pulled them in together. “Yes, we have much to talk about,” he said. “We are soon to be a single family. Come, let’s eat and drink together.”
Corban let the huge man lead him out to the table. He sat three seats down from Miranda, and when they were all seated and she looked up at him. He put the fingers that had been inside her into his mouth and sucked them clean. He tasted the warm, smoky tang of her. She blushed and took a drink of wine.
Her father is an oaf, Corban thought, but at least his daughter is a fiery beauty. Perhaps this marriage will work out well after all.
11: Miranda
She woke the next day to cold sunlight shining through a frosty window. For a moment she thought she was back in her trailer in Oklahoma. Her head hurt like hell, and she’d woken up many times with a raging hangover. Too much wine, she thought.
Then she felt the blue silk nightgown and the goose-feather mattress. She looked around the empty room with stone walls and stone floor, a woven white rug on the floor beside the bed. She was in—what had they called it?—Xandakar.
She reached up to the warm gold necklace snug around her neck as if it were a part of her now, and another realization occurred to her.
Today is my wedding day.
She’d fooled the Everfrosts. Even more amazingly, she’d fooled the Wildfires. Though she still wasn’t sure about the man who was supposed to be her brother, Marko.
She still had no idea what they would do if and when they found out she wasn’t who she said she was. But once she was married, would it matter? The simplest way to call her out would be to ask her transform into a dragon. She was a Wildfire. She was supposed to be able to do that, right?
But maybe she could just say that living all those years on Earth had sapped her of the ability. Maybe all that time without ever transforming, she simply hadn’t learned how. She wondered just how important it was for them to be able to shift into dragons. They hadn’t asked her up to this point, so maybe she was safe.
A knock came at the chamber door, the noise making her head hurt even worse. Fuck, she thought. I bet they don’t have ibuprofen here.
“Yeah,” she said, sitting up in bed. “Come in.”
The hinges squealed and Astra poked her head in the doorway. “Good morning,” she said in a sing-song voice.
Oh double-fuck, Miranda thought. She’s gorgeous and she’s a morning person. I should probably hate her.
Instead, Miranda forced a smile. “Hi,” she said. “I mean, good morning to you too.”
Astra came into the room, closing the door behind her. She was wearing a blue silk nightgown similar to the one on Miranda. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t remember changing out of her dress. She didn't remember how she got to this room, either. The last vivid memories of the night before were of Corban pulling her close to kiss her while his hand found its way up between her legs. She remembered the feel of his fingers moving up inside her with the cool taste of his mouth on her lips, like mint and snow.
“You’re smiling,” Astra said. “I’m happy as well, though not near as happy as you must be.”
“Yeah,” Miranda said, thinking about it seriously for the first time since she’d arrived. She was happy, much happier than she’d been back in Norman. And why shouldn’t she be? She was about to marry a king, hotter than any man she’d ever seen back home, built like a professional athlete with the ability to turn into a dragon.
Astra sat next to her on the bed, cuddling close and sliding her hand along Miranda’s thigh. “The ceremony will be this morning,” she said. “Magda herself has flown in from the One Tree to perform the binding.”
“Magda?”
“The archmage,” Astra said. “Oh, right. You probably don’t remember her, but she helped hide you to keep you safe. She’s the one who forged this.” Astra reached out and ran her light fingers across the gem at Miranda’s throat. Her fingers lingered, trailing down between Miranda’s breasts before pulling away.
I’m not imaging things, Miranda thought. This girl definitely wants in my pants.
“Come,” Astra said. “Let’s get you out of that gown and into your wedding dress.” She reached out and grabbed the hem of Miranda’s nightgown, pulling it up over her head as Miranda stretched her arms up into the air.
A smile played on Astra’s lips as she looked over Miranda’s naked body, and Miranda half expected her to lean in for a kiss. Instead, she clapped her hands twice. The door opened again, and Miranda crossed her arms across her bare breasts. But it was only a pair of servant girls carrying a dress, draped across their arms like a sacred cloth.
The dress was white and blue, like everything else in this place, but it sparkled all over like a million chips of frozen ice.
“My mother wore this when she married my father,” Astra said. “I hope you don’t mind wearing it today.”
God no, why would she mind? “It’s beautiful,” Miranda said.
She stood up and the servants helped her into it. She was worried it might not fit quite right, but once it was on she saw herself in the full-length mirror by the bed. The dress was stunning. Her shoulders and arms were bare, the top of the dress cupping and lifting her breasts. The sparkling material began as pure white at the edge of her cleavage and became bluer as it went down, so that the hem was the deep color of sapphire.
Astra sat on the edge of the bed, admiring her. “It’s perfect,” she said. “I’m going to get dressed while the girls see to your hair and makeup. When you’re ready we’ll head to the Great Hall. Later, Thalgar will measure your head.”
“What?” Miranda asked. The vivid vision of a guillotine appeared in her mind. Maybe Astra had been toying with her this whole time. “Who’s Thalgar?”
“The royal blacksmith,” Astra said. “After all, he needs to forge you a
new crown.”
Oh my God, Miranda thought, looking at herself in the mirror. This is really happening.
Miranda stood before the doors of the Great Hall with Astra by her side. The two blonde guards holding silver spears pushed open the giant oak doors. Gone were the tables from the night before. Rows and rows of benches were filled with the residents of the keep. They stood when they saw their soon-to-be new queen, a hush falling over them.
Beyond them, between the divided rows, she saw Corban standing and facing her. He was wearing a blue and gold cape over his usual scaled armor. Even from this distance she could see an expression on his face that was different from the first time he looked at her. Not smug and dismissive, but loving, almost eager.
A tiny woman in white robes stood by his side, hunched over and leaning on a gnarled cane. Her large black eyes widened in curiosity when she saw Miranda, and they followed her up the aisle as she approached. Magda, that was the name Astra had said. She was an owl, like Wygard.
Everyone was watching her as she walked up to the front of the hall. Even though she wasn’t cold she felt goosebumps rise across her forearms. She felt her stomach knot, but in a good way. She was no longer worried about being discovered. Her nervousness was a result of anticipation, wondering what her new life as the queen of the ice dragons would be like. She wondered what it was going to be like to be Corban’s wife, to share his bed every single night.
He’ll have to get rid of those consorts, for one thing, she thought, smiling to herself. He desired her, though. Even now she could see it on his face. She felt like she knew enough to keep him pleased in the bedroom, enough to where he would no longer need anyone else.
As she drew close, she saw Karth in the front row, his beard tied into three parts with gold rings, tears standing out in his eyes. Marko stood beside him, though there were no tears in his eyes. He was watching her as a cat might watch a mouse, just before it pounces.
But she turned her eyes back to Corban, who held out his hand. As she stepped up to him, he took her hand.
The old woman cleared her throat. The throng of onlookers took their seats in unison.
“Today I am here to bind Corban Everfrost with Siccora Wildfire,” Magda said, her wide, unblinking eyes studying the couple before her. “You are here to witness not only the joining of two people, but the union of two great clans.”
Magda took a piece of silver cloth and draped it over their clasped hands, wrapping it more tightly than Miranda would have expected. There were symbols on the strip of cloth, and they began to glow as Magda started to chant, reciting what sounded like some ancient song in an unrecognizable language.
Magda closed her eyes and laid both her hands over theirs. Corban looked at Miranda, the white glow between them filling his face. She could see it, something she thought she’d never see in a man’s eyes. She’d seen lust before. She’d seen desire. But what she saw now was love, and her heart swelled in her chest.
The owl-mage’s chants grew louder as the glow grew so bright Miranda had to squint. But after only a few seconds the light began to subside, and Magda’s voice softened and tapered off.
The cloth fell dark again. Magda’s wrinkled face broke into a huge grin, her huge black eyes blinking. She removed the cloth and began to speak.
“The binding is complete,” she said. “Where before you were as two, now you are as one.”
Miranda couldn’t believe it. She felt as if she were in some kind of dream, the most incredible, wonderful dream she’d ever had. This was all going to work out after all. She was going to be the queen of this place, married to an amazing, gorgeous man who actually loved her. This was like some kind of fairy tale, and they were going to live happily ever—
“Stop!” a woman’s voice echoed from the back of the hall. Everyone turned around to look. Miranda turned her head to look back down the aisle.
She saw a woman with straight black shoulder-length hair. She appeared to be wearing a red business suit with a wide-collared white shirt underneath. Miranda squinted as the woman began to walk down the aisle towards them.
The first thing Miranda thought was that those clothes didn’t make sense. They weren't from this world. They were from hers.
The second thing to cross her mind was that the woman looked strangely familiar. When she was halfway up the aisle, Miranda let out a little gasp. Her heart felt like it had gone up into her throat.
Holy shit, she thought. That’s the woman from Benny’s, the one who left the necklace. That’s the real Siccora Wildfire.
Siccora reached the front and guards were there, crossing their silver spears to keep her from coming any closer.
“Whoever you are,” Corban said, “you’d better have a fine reason for interrupting this ceremony. At best you’re about to find yourself in one of our dungeons. At worse you’ll find the end of a spear.”
“I am Siccora Wildfire,” she said. “Daughter of Karth, bearer of the Emberstone.”
The assembled crowd gasped, then began to murmur.
Miranda was frozen in place, unable to speak. Corban opened his mouth to say something, but Magda stepped forward, putting her shriveled hand on his arm to silence him.
“If you are Siccora Wildfire,” Magda said, “then who is this? If you are the bearer of the Emberstone, then why does it hang around her neck?”
“She is an imposter,” Siccora said. “I do not know her real name, nor do I care. As for the stone, she stole it from me.”
Miranda felt heat rise up her neck and into her face. That lying bitch, she thought. But she was still too shocked to get any words out.
Magda smiled gently. “The Emberstone was forged with a will of its own,” she said. “It was made to seek out its true owner. I find it unlikely it was stolen from you. Do you have any proof of what you say?”
While this exchange took place Karth had risen to his feet. He was looking back and forth between Miranda and Siccora, his brow furrowed, his eyes full of confusion and anger.
“There,” Siccora said, pointing back down the aisle. A hulk of a man stood by the doors of the hall. He had thick black sideburns, his hair twisted into a rope that hung across his shoulder. He wore a dark suit, his hands folded in front of him.
The limo driver, Miranda thought.
“Do you recognize him, father?” Siccora said, turning back to face Karth.
“Korrigan Darkclaw,” Karth muttered.
“You sent him through with me, to protect me,” Siccora said. She took another step forward. The guards withdrew their spears and let her pass. “Should you need further proof, ask the imposter to take her dragonform. She cannot, because she is not a Wildfire, nor is she of this world. She is a lowly human, stealing her place upon your throne with lies and deception.”
Everyone turned to look at Miranda. Corban let go of her hand, a confused look on his face.
No, she thought. Goddammit, this wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out.
She shook her head, a tear sliding down one cheek. She looked into Corban’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely.
The crowd began to get louder, some rising to their feet. Only Magda appeared to remain calm. She turned to face Miranda. “Does she speak the truth?” she asked Miranda.
Miranda nodded, more tears rolling down her face.
“What is your true name, child?”
“Miranda,” she answered shakily. “Miranda Betts.” The sound of her own name felt weak and stupid in her ears.
Karth finally spoke. “Her name matters not. She is a pretender. Take her down from there so my true daughter can stand in her place.”
“Circumstances are not so simple,” Magda said. “The ritual of binding has already taken place. The bond cannot be broken.”
“Not true.” It was Marko who spoke now, rising to his feet. He had a wry smirk on his face as he looked at Miranda, then to Magda. “The bond can be broken in death.” He then looked over his shoulder to his sister and nodded to
her.
Siccora smiled in realization and nodded herself. “Then I challenge the imposter, Miranda Betts, to ritual combat.”
12: Corban
What in the hell is happening with me? Corban thought to himself. He sat on a high balcony overlooking the central courtyard of the keep. Sitting beside him was his sister, holding his hand.
Below he could see the woman he had come to love, or thought he had come to love. Could you love someone if you didn’t really know who they were? Miranda. A fine name and a fine woman. But not a Wildfire, not even dragonborn. At the other end of the courtyard was Siccora Wildfire, who would either burn Miranda to a cinder or slice her to pieces with razor-sharp claws. The choice was hers.
The laws of Xandakar were what held them together. There were no trials here. The unjust were punished under the judgment of the Dragonlords. Disputes between individual members were resolved by ritual combat. Miranda had claimed to be a clan member, and so she was bound by their rules. Siccora had every right to challenge her to a fight, and Miranda had no recourse to refuse.
The Wildfires had chosen to watch the fight from somewhere else. Karth had been nothing but hugs and smiles the night before, but that had been when he thought his only daughter was about to marry Corban. But the binding had been done, not between him and Siccora Wildfire, but between him and an Earthly mortal. The union that was supposed to bring peace between their clans had not taken place, so now the situation was tense at best.
After the challenge, Karth had walked up to Corban. “If I find out you had anything to do with this, I’ll—”
He had been about to say he’d kill Corban himself. That much was clear. But his son had pulled him away before he could finish the thought and spark an open war. It had been no secret that Corban was not eager to marry, much less a Wildfire. So he couldn’t blame Karth for suspecting him. The irony was that he had stepped to the head of the Great Hall perfectly happy and willing to marry the woman he thought was Siccora. Now he didn’t know what he felt.
Dragon Blue: A Lie That's True (The Dragonlords of Xandakar, Book1) Page 8