Threesomed 2

by New Dawning Books

  Maghnus swung his sword, slicing through Fallon’s ribs. His flesh split, a ripe melon under the blistering sun. He threw his head back and roared, the noise gaining volume and momentum, bleeding into a bellow that shook the trees ringing the meadow.

  His eyes burned as his face elongated. His back arched, cracked. Size tripled, then that quadrupled. He towered above them, half man, half beast as the minute changes reformed his body. At last, it was done.

  His snout billowed steam. The Knights fell back, not knowing the secret of his form. Let them think he could blow fire.

  “A dragon!” an archer squealed.

  The Queen’s secret, for good or bad, had come to light. Fallon startled that the rumors had not yet filled every ear at the Seelie court. For he had been cursed in front of all the nobility. Gossipers and liars, the lot of them.

  Garbhan cut the air with his sword, toward Maghnus. He showed not a care. Unlike the others, the Captain knew Fallon kept his wits, even as a dragon. “Have not a fear! This cretin had angered him.”

  Fallon hesitated to kill his fellow Knights. They’d grown and trained together, fought for one another. The archers mattered not to him.

  “That is a Sidhe no longer!” Maghnus stumbled back, as Fallon rose on his muscled hind legs. “This is what the Queen has done to him?”

  “You were there, Maghnus.”

  “He did not do this at court!”

  Fallon spread his wings across the meadow. His long, thick neck curled over Maghnus, cutting him off from his peers. One crystalline triple iris complete with slit pupil caught the Knight’s.

  He didn’t bother to perform a communication charm. His face said it all.

  Cut me again, dullard. I shall bite your head clean from your shoulders.

  The Knight shuddered, his sword falling to the ground. He’d wet himself, the reek pungent to his oversensitive sense of smell. Inside, Fallon wondered how he’d ever stomached the wretch. His death would be a mercy to his brothers. A true Knight hath no fear of any man or beast.

  Blood gushed between them, running down Fallon’s metallic green chest. The shift had ripped open the wound, enlarged the serrated edges. Not the first time he’d been wounded in battle. Not the last either. He’d see this to be true.

  Fallon whipped his barbed tail, colliding with Maghnus’ side, tearing through his armor. Maghnus tumbled through the air into three horses, including his own. Fallon uttered a shattering roar, a gust of steam. The warriors scrambled, screaming “fire.”

  How little they knew. Not even the Captain understood. Fallon was a water dragon. Ice, to the fire that was Dearg.

  He leapt, and damned near fell back to the ground. Perhaps, his wounds surpassed his previous assessment. His limbs deadened, the bone structure of his wings threatened not to keep him airborne for longer than a minute or two. That’s all he needed.

  The knights made no move to follow him, as they calmed their steeds.

  Arrows flew, tiny sticks to a beast such as him. The beast barely felt them enter his hide.

  The man was altogether a different story.

  Chapter Two

  Siobhan left her stone cottage, and walked into her garden. The fragile blooms ran in riots of rainbow hues. The soft, sweet scent of her roses floated on the gentle breeze.

  Patches of cornflower sky broke through the heavy canopy of brilliant green trees, whose branches twisted in intricate patterns over her home. A purple and yellow winged Pixie flung her insect sized body from daffodil to tulip, rolling in pollen, singing in high-pitched joy.

  “Why, hello, Luna. I left a bowl of fresh milk for you on the sill. Do be sure to share this time, won’t you?”

  A puff of yellow dust escaped the golden tulip as she sat up and grinned that innocent smile that Siobhan adored.

  She collected her basket she’d woven from fallen sprigs last fall. The woven bits had become greatly worn, but parting with the object pained her heart. The basket was one of the first items she’d created by hand for her new life, a symbol of independence unlike any other.

  Strolling through the opening of the ivy covered stone wall surrounding her cottage, she headed north to find the wild berries that clung close to the ground. Her full skirts swished over the tall grasses.

  The forest darkened. She craned her neck in time to see a monstrous figure careening through the morning horizon. His wings fluttered uselessly at his sides, his nose pointed to the ground. The closer he came, the more the arrows protruding from his side were visible. A nasty gash ran from under his left front leg, to the center of his stomach. Blood dripped upon the tree tops. She cringed. Such a waste of a beautiful creature. No doubt, the Seelie had hunted the animal for coming too close to their precious homes. Goddess forbid, the wildlife mar their perfection.

  He disappeared. Not soon after, a horrendous crash shook the world beneath her feet. She ached for the creature, stupid as it were to care at all for him. The circle of life and death wasn’t her concern anymore. Yet, she wondered. Did he still breathe? Could he be saved?

  She dropped her basket, picked up her skirts and thrashed through the undergrowth. She found him a mile off, lying on his side, eyes closed. His chest heaved a shallow, desperate rhythm.

  She inched closer, understanding well what an injured beast might do in desperation. When the brilliant blue and green dragon watched her, she barely noticed the triple iris no animal possessed. Intelligent curiosity burned underneath the agony. She closed the distance. Siobhan was by no means a helpless whelp without magick. She was a highborn Sidhe noble. Granted, in hiding, but all the same.

  Bending over the first arrow, she readied a defensive spell, leaving off the last word. She’d be able to cast in less than a second, if the need arose. He lifted his head, huffed, and thumped back to the grass.

  “You poor darling,” she cooed.

  Her hand trailed to the next arrow, twice as deep. She winced. Only part of his chest wound was exposed. “I wish you had landed on your other side. I need to see all of this, before I can assess how best to help you.”

  He grunted, and pushed himself onto his back. The pointed scales along his spine curved against the weight.

  Her hand went to her throat. Had he understood her? How extraordinary! “Do not fret, dragon. I shall be quick. Then we can attend your smaller wounds.”

  She realized her mistake in her promise. If she cast a healing incantation, she must rid herself of the defensive spell. The grand lizard shifted, growling under its breath.

  “Do not be so forceful,” she muttered. Alas, this wasn’t the first time she’d placed herself in harm’s way. She rushed through an invocation first forward, then backward, as the spell called for. Not many practitioners used natural magick to heal anymore, but easier potions that required less skill, than ability to follow the written directions. Green specks littered the air.

  She collected them one by one, molding the magick into a malleable ball. She smoothed the balm over the gash. The area glowed iridescent, the old magick stitching the edges together. Satisfied that over the next dozen or so minutes he’d mend well enough to move. The worst was over. She tended the arrows as gently as she could.

  He hissed and writhed as she pulled out the first, growled at the second. On the fifth, his reserve of precious energy depleted. His throat vibrated, a painful purr as she removed them from his slick scales. She counted thirty-two arrows on the ground, and shuddered. How awful.

  One more to go. On his neck, so close to the major artery. She crept forward, determined he slept. Yet as she loomed over him, his eye slid open again. Such pain and quiet fear. He was so brave, kind even. His muscles quivered under his scales, as if they fought to get away from one another. Was he smaller than he’d been a moment ago?

  She touched the arrow and pulled. The scales violently rippled. She glanced at his face, startled to find his nose shorter, the color of his skin lightening by shade, to a bright, luminescent white. A horrifying crunching sound roared in her
ears. The body of the dragon compacted, by threes, shrinking, leaving a naked, breathless male with pointed ears. Dumbstruck, she stood over him, bloodied arrow in hand.

  She had aided a Sidhe? A shape shifter at that. Unheard of in many a year. Her mind reeled, terror shattering her. They’d found her.

  Reeling back, she collapsed on her backside. Weakly, his arm rose, reaching for her, beckoning for her.

  “Please, I give my most solemn oath that I mean you no harm. Help me.”

  * * * *

  Dearg combed the forest for the second consecutive day. The Knights had searched as well, fruitless in their efforts as he.

  “Idiot!” He punched a tree trunk, the bark digging into his hand, pain clearing his palette for anger. On the cause of that rage festering inside of him, he’d been parted from his cursed friend. The chase had ripped them apart, and by fate’s decree, the Knights had followed him, and not Dearg. He’d come just in time to witness the blood spill from the skies as the blue and green dragon limped in flight from the fray.

  Now his best friend and only ally in a world lay hurt in these treacherous woods, just as alone. Dearg smelled the blood, thick as molasses on the air from every direction. He didn’t dare shift, not with the Knights so close. Fallon’s sword that always swung at his side, found abandoned in the undergrowth of the forest.

  A bad omen indeed.

  A chill shivered in his blood. Dread ran in thick rivulets in his system. Much like Dearg, an enemy would have had to pry his sword from Fallon’s cold, stiffened corpse.

  Chapter Three

  Fallon sunk into the feather bed by the merrily crackling hearth. The flame glowed green and yellow, a magick fire he hadn’t seen in many a moon’s cycle.

  Not the only surprise he’d experienced in Siobhan’s care. He studied her as she darted between the simmering pot over the fire, and chopping vegetables on the plank table that dominated her small kitchen. Spending life with nobility of the feminine persuasion, he’d forgotten that some women lived without servants at their beck and call.

  “Why won’t you look at me?” His chest ached. Magick help or no, the wound had torn through muscle and cracked a rib during two changes. His torso was wrapped in strips of fabric Siobhan had taken from an elaborate dress in stark contrast to this modest, quaint cottage.

  Where had she procured the fine fabrics? Better yet, how’d she so offhandedly destroyed the lace and silks?

  “I am cooking.” To drive her point home, she dumped a handful of onion into the bubbling pot.

  “And the rest of the time?”

  “I do not lollygag often. Nor do I stare at strangers.”

  “Come, Siobhan. It has been two days since you found me. Surely you want some insight into what you’ve witnessed.”

  She gave him her profile, one delicate blonde brow poised high over her cherry, mauve and light pink eyes. The firelight reflected on her blonde hair streaked with leaf green that revealed her delicate pointed ears.

  She swallowed nervously. “We are fae. What I’ve seen means nothing.”

  “When was the last time you watched a dragon transform into a Sidhe?” he said sharply.

  “I’ll admit I haven’t.” Her voice shook, much as it had the first time he’d broached the subject.

  Guilt flashed through him, and he sagged. “I apologize if I’ve frightened you. Allowing me into your home while I heal is very generous of you. I do not wish to cause you ill.”

  She shrugged, and finally, bless the Goddess, met his intent gaze. She straightened, pride in the lines of her body. Magick sizzled across her bare arms. “I am not frightened of you. If you had given me any reason to suspect differently, I’d have thrown you out by sheer force of will in a hairsbreadth.”

  His lips twitched into a smile, then a laugh. The action sent small shocks through his abused body. He didn’t care.

  “Strong words.”

  At her sides, her fingers curled. Her expression hardened. “I assure you, Fallon, I am not weak or powerless.”

  “Of that, dear lady, I know. Your healing alone is exceptional.”

  She sneered, a bare hint of gnashed teeth. “Healing is not my only strong point.” The magick leapt to life, poised. The noise of the crackling fire and bubbling brew ceased to be. Not even a peep from the chirping birds that hopped on the branches outside the window. The deafening silence muddled his senses: he barely comprehended the danger to himself.

  He forced himself to bite back the pain. Slowly not to startle her, he sat up in his sickbed. “Calm yourself, Siobhan. I’ve told you, I mean you no harm.”

  “You better not,” she hissed. The power glowed from within her, as if fighting to escape. Never had he witnessed a display of control over the elemental powers she commanded with such ease. “I can flatten you and this cottage with little more than a thought.”

  The air thickened to the point of molasses. His lungs ached to draw breathe. The passage of time moved just as slow. He kept his serene, innocent expression, despite his growing trepidation. Siobhan wasn’t a normal practitioner. Had the Queen known of her existence, her freedom would end. She’d be put to work as a weapon. “I have no doubt now. I was wrong, my lady. Forgive my impertinence to have displeased you so.”

  The tightness in her limbs abated. Sound returned in small increments, the atmosphere lightened. Sweet Goddess, he almost pitied anyone unintelligent enough to have Siobhan as an enemy.

  Who was she, this ethereal beauty who lived alone in the wilds? He dared not ask the burning question.

  “I apologize,” she said tightly. “I do not normally lose my temper. I have no care for those who underestimate me.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt,” Fallon said, truth ringing in his tone. He planted his hand against the mattress to support himself as he slumped with relief.

  Siobhan whirled, her long skirts—mauve today—danced at her heels. The beaded trim tinkled a subtle tune.

  * * * *

  Dearg plastered himself to trunk of a live oak, branches dipping to the Earth, better to hide him from the Knights.

  How unfortunately persistent they were. The troops quartered the area in twos. But they hadn’t possessed the senses of a true predator. Since Dearg had been cursed alongside Fallon, his sight and hearing became unfathomable. Everything tasted acute. He’d picked apart the array of spices in the roasted meats and small pies at court, confounded by the complexity of flavors. In his other form, he’d hunted animals three times the size of his elfin self.

  If they’d move on, he’d continue his tracking in peace. Finally, he’d scented Fallon in a small, ravaged clearing. And he hadn’t been alone. A female’s trail masked his friend’s. Where had she taken him?

  “This is where he fell,” Garbhan snapped.

  “He cannot have gone far,” Neasan called across the clearing. “The archers shot enough arrows in his hide to bleed him out.”

  The Captain of the Queen’s Knight snickered. “And they all lay in a pile. Every one. He couldn’t remove them himself.”

  “Dearg must be with him.”

  “No. It was another. I smell old magick in these woods, and the reek isn’t Dearg’s doing. He is no practitioner of the ancient arts.”

  Dearg peeked around the branches. Had a sorceress captured Fallon? What had she planned to do with him? New resolve filled him. If she meant him harm, no amount of magickal skill would protect her.

  He’d planned to attack the Knights, but now, they weren’t the only enemies in these woods. He swore beneath his breath, and lowered himself onto his belly. He crawled for no one. No one but Fallon.

  * * * *

  Siobhan frowned, helpless in her ability to make small talk social situations called for. Fallon finished his stew, and rinsed out the wooden bowl in the bucket of fresh spring water. He said nothing, as he went through the front door.

  Her heart jumped into her throat. He left, just like that? Who could blame him, after how she’d treated him?

&nbs
p; She fidgeted. For the first time, in a very long time, she was vulnerable to her own pride. Living alone for the past two years had made her inhospitable to outsiders. Living among the Seelie court for centuries had forced her to develop enough suspicions to fill a lake, and kindness to dominate half a thimble.

  She stretched the crick in her back. A series of clomps brought her light footed to the door. Axe high, Fallon arched over a wide stump in her garden. He brought the blade down on a poised chunk of wood, cleaving the knotty pine into two, clean pieces.

  Luna sat upon his shoulder, thin legs swaying back and forth to a tune only she knew.

  Her breath caught at the sight of the pair. Sidhe so rarely paid attention to the wee fae that populated the lands. Considered barely more than insects, Pixies spent more time dodging abuse than any other race. That Fallon allowed one to touch him was a marvel indeed.

  Surely if her Pixie trusted him so easily, he had merit. He smiled down at her, as he collected another log from the pile Siobhan had meant to split days ago—before he’d come. Sometimes, she preferred a natural fire to a magickal one.

  The alabaster skin above and below his bandage glistened with slick sweat. Every once in a while, he winced when he used too much pressure.

  The sunlight threw chaotic cerulean in his long, thick hair. Each ring of his iris clearly struck her: inner aqua, middle sapphire, and the outer circle a startling emerald. Low on his hips was a pair of midnight trousers she’d fastened out of bits of magick and glamour.

  He should’ve looked a primal thing, so strong and untamable, if not for the half smile as he hummed alongside Luna.

  He spilt another piece, and cringed.

  “You’re exerting yourself too much.” She hurried across the garden. “The muscles have yet to heal.”

  He stiffened. “I do not care to be caught unaware.”