THE DRAGONIAN’S WITCH (The First Witch Book 1)

by Meg Xuemei X

  If the ward covered the space above, I could take it easy before making a hasty exit. I shut my eyes to quiet my mind, and when I opened them, I saw a pale purple net weaving above the garden. The ward was three-dimensional.

  Though I could see the ward, I couldn’t detect its origin. I wasn’t trained in magic. I had never met other magical beings to compare notes with.

  I glanced around me, taking in the well-tended garden. Someone was living here.

  Alarm rang through me.

  Ares had mentioned that guests had to be invited into the garden. If the keeper was his friend, then I was in big trouble. I had to find food and get out of here quickly.

  I looked around and saw a peach tree. An abundance of fruit hung from its branches. I darted toward the tree and plucked the closest peach I could reach and bit into it. It wasn’t ripe, but I couldn’t be choosy now. I finished it in a few bites, tossed the core aside, and tore another one from the branch.

  The scent of stew floated toward me through the breeze.

  I crept forward, following the aroma.

  Treading through the maze-like garden, I saw a light inside a wooden house ahead. There were several cabins scattering around it.

  Something clicked in my mind. Ares had said he would feed me. He was waiting for an invitation. I had to leave. Right now. The keeper must have heard my singing and howling. And that idiot Tyrone must have triggered the alarm when he’d rammed into the ward.

  But whoever lived here hadn’t come out to investigate yet.

  The enticing scent of the stew grew stronger and my stomach growled. I couldn’t remember when was the last time I had had a warm bowl of hearty stew. I would steal a bowl of it before I went my way. It wouldn’t take long.

  I edged toward the side of the house, my steps quiet from my wolfish nature, and I looked through the window. A long wooden table was in the center of the room, covered in paper and ink. Shelves lined on one of the walls and leather-bound manuscripts weighed them down.

  The books held no interest for me. I was ravenous and only cared to find the kitchen.

  I slithered toward the other side of the house. There it was! Through the half-open window above the sink, I spotted three large pots on the stove, all unattended. Steam rose from the holes on the lids, and the irresistible aroma wafted toward me.

  My keen sense of smell—a trait I got from being raised by wolves—picked up the scent of rabbit. Rabbit stew. It was my pack’s, and my, favorite! My mouth watered. I smacked my lips on the scent through the air and discerned the mixture of herbs that used to season the broth: cinnamon, orange skin, wild mushroom, dioscoreae Rhizoma, and peppermint.

  With no one in sight, I wouldn’t have to create a distraction on the other side of the house. I could slip in through the window, grab a bowl of the mouth-watering stew, and be on my way before anyone realized I was here.

  I pushed the window fully open, placed my gloved hands on the windowsill, and holstered myself up.

  “Freyja, stop!” a sinister voice thundered from behind me.

  I stilled. They’d caught up to me.

  Ares and his minions were probably less than three feet from me. No matter how fast I was, Ares would grab my feet just in time and drag me out before I flew through the window.

  I let go of the windowsill, landed on the grass ground, and turned to the party with a sigh. My former companions surrounded me in a half circle.

  “How . . . how did you get in here?” I tried to back away from them, but my back was already against the wall.

  The Dragonians grinned at me maliciously.

  “I was just messing with you for a little fun,” I explained. “I was actually coming here to get food for all of us since you couldn’t enter the garden. Man, there are rabbit stews on the stove, free for us to take!”

  “And this is how you messed with me for a little fun?” Ares asked, mimicking how I had flipped him the bird.

  “She also added, ‘Fuck you, Darken’ to full measure,” Boomer said, fueling his leader’s anger.

  “That was some kind of misunderstanding,” I said, but from the expressions on everyone’s face, there was no misunderstanding.

  I was suddenly tired. The exhaustion was so vast that I no longer cared what this bunch would do to me. I stared back at them dully.

  Lucas looked as if I’d betrayed him. I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt, just regret. I shouldn’t have been seduced by a pot of stew. But maybe I should demand Prince Darken let me have a small bowl of the stew before he executed me. I could cite that it was customary for a prisoner to have a last meal.

  Amid the chilling silence, a strong wave of magic sailed toward me like a melody. It sounded nice, but it could be dangerous. The tiny hairs on my neck stood on end. I threw up my hands to block it and was shocked when a shield formed around me. I knew I had magic, but apart from my death-touch, I didn’t know how to use it.

  I listened to the magical song through my shield.

  It was as if someone was speaking in my language for the first time; and a dark desire rose from within me. My magic sang back in a broken tone.

  When the song faded, regret and longing filled my heart.

  My gaze locked on a tall stranger standing behind the mob. This was his garden.

  He was a dark-skinned, handsome man. He wasn’t completely human, and he couldn’t be half-fey because Fey would never breed with a mortal. I couldn’t sense any Angel blood in him either.

  Immense power resonated in the air around him, and his white robe glowed in the night.

  “Hello, Freyja,” he said. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  Ares and his minions widened their eyes.

  Now was my cue to slide out of the bad situation.

  “I apologize for being late,” I said. Why had he been expecting me? And for what?

  I offered him a smile that was for a friend, though I had none.

  He stood in the rank of the Dragonians, but he didn’t seem to take their side. I should gain him as an ally.

  He regarded me, light amusement dancing in his intelligent, brown eyes—opposite to the dark amusement in Ares’ eyes when the prince wasn’t furious.

  I didn’t like the notion that this man seemed to be able to see right through me. I checked my mental shield and was relieved that he hadn’t tried to probe into my head. If he had, he’d have made an enemy out of me.

  “This lot delayed me,” I thumbed toward the group in an unflattering manner, “so I couldn’t get here sooner. You can see my dilemma: one defenseless, weaponless girl against seven big, strong men.”

  The six men stared at me in contempt, and Lucas frowned at me.

  If I could conjure the magician’s male need and pride to protect an innocent, vulnerable female, I would have a fighting chance. He’d been expecting me, which meant I could be useful to him. He had sensed my magic. He wouldn’t allow anyone to harm me before he got what he wanted.

  If a fight broke out, the two of us magic wielders—though I wouldn’t really call myself that— could temporarily form an alliance and take down the five brutes, given that Lucas and Einarr didn’t join them.

  “I was expecting you because I saw you in my vision, Freyja,” the magician said, “but I don’t think I’ve had the honor meeting you before.”

  I felt the flush creep up my cheeks.

  “We all mistook you for a wolf girl.” Ares snickered. “Never thought you’re actually a fox. What else is up your sleeves?”

  I’d either have to sidetrack them again, or go on the offense.

  “How could you sneak up on me?” I demanded, then turned on the magician. “What kind of sorcery is that?”

  He smiled, his eyes bright as the stars. “In my garden, there’s a magic path,” he said. “I’m impressed that it didn’t take you longer to get out of the maze with your howling and feasting on my peaches.”

  I blinked. “I thought magic existed only in the immortal land.”

  “Not anymore,�
�� he said, holding my gaze. “The world shifted after the war. I’ve been expecting you, but I didn’t expect you to be able to enter my garden without an invitation or a proper training.”

  “Since you’ve been expecting me,” I said, endeavoring to gain his support, “an invitation seemed redundant. But do accept my apologies for my ignorance on those matters.”

  “It’s the first time she’s ever apologized,” Ares cut in through his gritted teeth, “let alone apologized for her arrogance and ignorance.”

  I turned my stare onto Ares, hoping it gave off all the disdain I felt, before I disregarded him. The sorcerer darted his gaze between us and smiled more.

  “Interesting,” he said.

  There was nothing interesting between the prince and me.

  “Delighted to make your acquaintance,” I said.

  “You can call me Merlin,” he said, gesturing for us all to follow him as he treaded toward the main entrance of the house, which was on the other side from where we were.

  Ares’ team was on his heel at once. It seemed they were just as hungry as I was.

  My stomach grumbled, and the prince gave me an unpleasant glance.

  Merlin stopped at the corner when he saw I wasn’t following. “Aren’t you coming, Freyja? I thought rabbit stew was your favorite?”

  How did he know that?

  “Well.” I edged in his direction and then looked at Ares, who brought up the rear to prevent my escape, his hands folding over his broad chest.

  He glowered at me. “We eat.”

  Which meant this wasn’t over.

  I hurried toward the front of the house and stumbled over a rock under my feet. A strong hand grabbed my elbow to steady me. When I realized it was Ares who came to my assistance, I wrenched my elbow from his grip and dashed to Merlin’s side.

  My survival instinct told me that it was safest to stay closer to him for the night.

  CHAPTER 10

  My Defender

  The main house was simple, yet elegantly designed with minimum furniture: straight chairs and tables and a few paintings on the walls.

  Merlin led us directly to the dining room.

  My full attention was on the eight bowls of stew amid bread, cheese, and fruits on the table. Merlin had expected eight guests before we’d even showed up in his garden.

  “You’re no stranger, Prince Darken.” Merlin motioned toward the food. “Help yourself. The guest houses are all open to you.” He turned to me. “Freyja, I’m glad you came, but I’ll bid you goodnight for now. I have some private matters to attend to.”

  “But—” I said. I felt kinship toward him and I didn’t want him to leave me alone with these hateful men. I also needed to ask him about Fey and magic, if he knew about my curse, and if there really was a cure for me.

  “At least tell me what you are before you go, please,” I whispered.

  “I’m the First Druid,” he said softly.

  “I’ve never heard of a druid,” I said.

  “No one has heard of you either,” he said, “but they will soon.”

  My heart pounded. If he was going to reveal my secret, I couldn’t stop him. I suppressed a shudder, my eyes burning with aggression and fear. I darted a quick glance in Ares’ direction. He was studying us darkly.

  “I’m nobody,” I said, my mouth dry.

  “Have no fear, Freyja,” he shifted to an ancient angelic tongue. I understood it as if it was in my blood. But how could he know this language since he didn’t share my Angel lineage?

  “Your secrets are for you to tell,” said Merlin.

  My pulse resumed normal.

  “Tell me about your druid.” The same language flowed out of my mouth and sounded like music in my ear.

  He smiled. “I’m the first of my kind, as you are.”

  Though the druid held no malice toward me, I really didn’t want him to focus on the part of my despicable heritage.

  Ares’ look grew darker and his companions traded suspicious looks. They couldn’t understand a damn word we said and weren’t happy about it.

  Merlin shifted back to the common language of Earth. “We’ll talk in the morning, all of us.” At my forlorn expression, he said, “You’ll manage tonight just fine.”

  The druid glided out.

  As soon as he was out of sight, I went straight for the biggest bowl, but the Dragonians cut in before me. They had longer arms and legs. Tyrone grabbed the big bowl I aimed for. “This is for His Highness. He’ll always have the best,” he snarled. “Learn some manners, wolf girl.”

  Look who’s talking. “Sure,” I said, “You’re a master of manners. Perhaps you can teach me how to curtsy?”

  Lucas chuckled.

  The gang settled around the table, leaving the most prestigious head seat for their prince. There was an empty seat at the corner next to the prince. I assumed it was for me—his prisoner. I snatched a bowl of stew no one claimed and took it with me to a separate table.

  I sat sideways on the bench, so I could keep an eye on them. Never leave your back to a stranger or a foe.

  Lucas looked at his peers, then at me, and rose, wanting to join me. But Ares glared him down. The lot mused over which of Ares’ brothers wanted him dead and their next step.

  “What are you going to do with the traitor?” Tyrone was most interested in knowing my punishment.

  “I have something in mind,” Ares said, sending me a purposeful, menacing glance.

  A dark wave of panic washed over me, but I tried to keep it at bay. Before Merlin had left, he had assured that I could handle whatever shit tonight. I gambled that Ares wouldn’t want to kill me yet. He still needed me to find the witch.

  “You gave her too much leverage,” Tyrone muttered. “We should shackle her with the electric chains, so she’ll learn her place.”

  Chain me, asshole, and let’s see how it will work out.

  “That is unnecessary,” Lucas objected fiercely. “Freyja is wild and free, like the nature. She shouted a few funny cusses, and that was understandable. She was hungry and frustrated. She thought we wouldn’t feed her. We caught up with her in the end. No harm done.”

  “Of course you defend her,” the Dragonian with the bluest skin said. “We all see how you gaze at her with the kind of love-sick look.”

  Lucas’s face reddened. “It isn’t lust. It’s affection. Can you Dragonians even tell the difference?”

  “You can’t see much of her skin anyway, Lucas,” Boomer said. “She even wears gloves all the time. I wonder why. But you can smell her, can’t you? Does she smell like a peach or fresh meat, shifter? Mind sharing a bit?”

  I contained my rage, but promised that the Dragonian thugs would meet a bitter end when they came for me.

  The fourth Dragonian was the only silent one. He hadn’t made a single comment throughout the entire trip. He didn’t look at me much either. When Ares gave orders, he just obeyed without a question. Was he mute? The world would be a better place if the Dragonians were a mute species.

  “Enough,” Ares said. “Show the girl respect. Freyja has her flaws because she isn’t a trained soldier. I forced her to leave her pack and come with us. It’s only natural that she rebels. In time, she’ll fall in line. Disrespect her again, and you’ll answer to me.”

  Had Ares just defended me? That was new. He didn’t even like me. He might have lusted after me, as a normal, red-blooded male would lust after a young, fresh female. But unlike Lucas, he didn’t have any tender affection for me. Except that one time when I’d fallen asleep in his arms on Ventus’ back.

  What was his game? A moment ago, he’d implied that my punishment would be in order.

  I focused on my food, pretending not to hear their conversation. The druid could cook. The rabbit meat was juicy and fused with a fresh herbal tang.

  At their prince’s scolding, the group moved to predict the assassin army’s next move as if they were all prophets, and offered countermoves from all angles. The Dragonians were
a suspicious and paranoid species. Lucas got frustrated and kept arguing with them. Einarr looked tired.

  Ares savored his big portion of stew while he listened. He grabbed another roll of bread and knifed hot butter on it. Soon the bread would be all gone, and I hadn’t had a roll.

  I stalked to their table, and the men ceased their debate and focused on me. Ever since I had gotten through the ward and the druid had displayed interest in me, my companions kept sending me alarmed glances as if I’d suddenly grown two heads.

  “What do you want?” Tyrone asked.

  “To give you sorry lot some pointers so you won’t spend the whole night boring me to tears with your laughable theories,” I said.

  “We didn’t ask for your opinion,” he said.

  “She can have her opinion,” Ares said, “whenever she likes.”

  I gave him a lopsided smile, though it never reached my eyes. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  Something bright flickered in Ares’ eyes, and he regarded me carefully, intensively, trying to discern any deception on my face. My face grew warm at his gaze. I didn’t like the way my body reacted to him.

  I seized the last roll of bread and snatched up a string of grapes.

  “She came for food with an excuse,” Boomer said as if he were a wise guy.

  “I don’t need an excuse to get my share of food,” I said. “And it’s not your bread.”

  “Don’t take their bait, Freyja,” Lucas encouraged me with a warm smile. “I’d love to hear your thoughts. Even Merlin respects you.” The last comment was for the Dragonians’s benefits.

  The shifter had nice, white, even teeth, unlike the Dragonians—except for Ares, his teeth were magnificent.

  My smile toward Lucas turned sweeter. Ares looked at me and Lucas, his expression darkening.

  “Always look for the simplest solution,” I told the group. “If you really don’t want the bounty hunters to find your next lair, you’d better get rid of all of your communication devices or any tracking gadgets. Your race loves fancy inventions, but they’ll lead you to your death. Another tip: if you’re looking for a mole, look no further. He has to be among you. I’m not one of you, and I never will be.”