ZS- The Dragon, The Witch, and The Wedding - Taurus

by Amy Lee Burgess

  I needed to talk this through with Donovan, but I couldn’t help being devastated by everything he’d said to me. I wasn’t a liar. I wasn’t a thief. And if I had known sleeping with me was his way of forgiving me, I would never have let him touch me. No matter how good his body felt against mine.

  Chapter 7

  The soft bed combined with the previous night’s lack of sleep knocked me out as if I’d been punched. The next thing I knew I was waking up, cramped and stiff. My formerly wet hair was bone dry, so I knew hours had passed. Maybe the whole day. Had Donovan thought I’d been sulking this entire time?

  Grimacing, I slid out of the bed. The stone floor chilled my bare feet. Arms in front of me, I groped for the door handle. Living surrounded by stone would take some getting used to. I decided from now on I would carry candles and matches in my pockets because I hated stumbling around in the dark.

  The hall was brightly lit, thankfully, and after visiting the bathroom and trying hard to subdue my out-of-control hair, I made my way to the kitchen hearth.

  Donovan was eating toast, and not looking like he was enjoying it much.

  Breakfast. Yesterday was completely gone.

  “I fell asleep. I hadn’t meant to stay in the guest room for this long,” I admitted.

  Donovan started in his chair, dropping his toast in the process.

  “Guess I was lost in thought,” he said. “I didn’t even see you standing there until you spoke.”

  “Is there any more toast?” My stomach grumbled right on cue, and a small grin lit Donovan’s face, chasing away some of the shadows in the room.

  “I’ll share.” He pushed his plate across the table. I sat and munched on toast for a moment as he watched me.

  “Are you still angry with me?” he asked.

  “Not if you tell me there’s coffee,” I said, making him smile again.

  “I’m serious, Marley.”

  “So am I. Never underestimate the healing powers of coffee.” I set down the small bit of crust I had left. “And I’m not angry, precisely, but I would like to talk about it.”

  “Can we talk on the way? I’ve got something to show you, and I hope you’ll like it.” The look on his face reminded me of a little child wishing for adult approval. I couldn’t resist him, even though I didn’t want to go out among the other dragon folk.

  “I really ought to change my clothes,” I protested, staring with dismay at my wrinkled skirt.

  “No, you really shouldn’t,” he said with a mysterious smile. “Come on.” He rose to his feet and retrieved the chair mount from its corner.

  “You’re taking me away from Zodiac Mountain?” I couldn’t quite keep the relief out of my voice. The last thing I wanted was to socialize with people that I not only didn’t know, but who also made their dislike of me plain. Still, I didn’t want to be a coward.

  “We’ll only be gone a couple of hours.” Donovan threw me another tantalizing smile as he rushed out into the corridor.

  Frantically trying to smooth my skirts, I hurried after him.

  Perhaps it was the early hour, or maybe the dragons had already forgotten I lived with them, but nobody stood in doorways ready to jeer at me. The one person we passed in the hall was Val’s daughter, who smiled shyly at me as I approached.

  “Hello,” she said. Her face fell when I only smiled and didn’t respond to her.

  “I’m not supposed to talk to you without your mother’s permission,” I reminded her.

  Her mouth tightened mutinously. “She’s not here. And I’m thirteen, not three. My name’s Emily. You can use my name any time you want. I’m not mad at witches, and I’m especially not mad at you. You’ve only ever been nice, and I like the way Donovan looks at you when he thinks you won’t notice him staring.”

  “Hey! Why are you giving me away like that? I thought we were friends!” Donovan protested with a grin, setting down the chair mount as if preparing for a conversation. I glanced warily down the corridor expecting to see Val, flaming mad, come swarming at us. Much to my surprise, the coast remained clear.

  Emily giggled, but soon sobered. “Why can’t you tell the grown-ups to be nice to your wife? To be nice to all witches. What happened was a long time ago. Can’t we forget about it?”

  Donovan sighed. “You’d think, wouldn’t you? Unfortunately, dragons have excruciatingly long memories to go along with their conceited egos. We hold grudges like some mothers hold their newborn babies. Tenderly and with a dedication bordering on obsession.”

  “I’m not like that,” Emily declared.

  “You’re thirteen. I wasn’t like that when I was thirteen either.” Donovan snuck a look at me from the corner of his eye, and I smothered a laugh. No, he hadn’t been.

  “What happens when you grow up? You lose all your compassion?” Emily asked.

  Donovan reached out to ruffle her hair. “I hope not, Em. I hope you never do.”

  “You didn’t,” Emily said. “Did you?”

  “You’d have to ask my wife that question.”

  “My name’s Marley,” I spoke up. “I want Emily to know my name.”

  Donovan nodded. “That’s your prerogative.” He turned to Emily. “But don’t use it in front of your parents. It’ll just antagonize them.”

  “At some point, somebody’s got to stand by Marley,” Emily said. “Not you—you’re her husband and you have to. I mean somebody like me who doesn’t have to if they don’t want.”

  “But not today, okay?” Donovan put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a serious look. “Give it some time. Promise me?”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “You think because when I was a little girl and had a crush on you, that I’ll do whatever you say. But I’m not a little kid anymore. Soon I’ll be able to fly on my own and everything. I can make up my own mind on things like this.”

  “Nobody said you couldn’t,” Donovan told her. “I’m just asking for some discretion while Marley settles in here.”

  “If you ask me, the last thing she needs is discretion, if that means I have to pretend I don’t like her.” Without waiting for a response, she flounced down the hall.

  Donovan heaved a sigh as he stared after her. “Kids.”

  “She’s great,” I declared. “She reminds me of a dragon I once knew.”

  “You still know him.” Donovan shot me a half-pleading look as he hoisted the chair mount and continued down the corridor.

  “I thought I did,” I countered, hurrying to keep up with him. His legs seemed twice as long as mine. I hated to think what ludicrous lunges I’d have to do if he started rushing. “But after yesterday I don’t know anymore.”

  Donovan hunched his shoulders as if to protect himself from my words, but he said nothing.

  He took the staircase down to the grassy common area two at a time, which impressed me considerably since he was carrying the chair mount.

  I held onto the stone railing as I descended. Prudence before haste. He waited at the bottom, impatiently shifting from foot to foot.

  “These stairs are made for giants,” I complained once I reached the grass. “I have to be careful or I’ll kill myself.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” Donovan said.

  “Ha.” I lifted my skirts to hurry after him as he strode into the center of the clearing. “Every dragon on this mountain would line up to shove me down those stairs if they could.”

  Donovan threw the chair mount down and whirled on me, his eyes ablaze. “Now, I know you’re irritated with me and this whole situation, but I really hope that was sarcastic exaggeration and not what you truly think.”

  “I didn’t mean you.” I took a step backward, scared of the fury gleaming in his eyes. “Or Emily. But the rest of them, yes, I think they would kill me if they thought they could get away with it.”

  “Every word out of your mouth proves how little you understand dragons.” Donovan leaned close enough to me that I could see the pulse in his temple throbbing with rage. “We are prote
ctors. We’re not killers. Every dragon on this mountain is sworn to protect our kingdoms—and that includes every citizen in those kingdoms. Even witches!”

  “You have a fine way of showing that when you torch our fields with your fiery breath,” I shouted, forgetting my fear in the burning wake of my anger.

  “We have never, in twenty years, physically hurt a witch!” Donovan yelled, fists clenched.

  “Oh,” I sneered. “So the criteria for protection is not physically harming anyone. Nice to know you don’t give a damn about emotionally scarring us, or financially ruining us, or endangering the king’s goodwill toward us when we can’t give him the herbs and talismans we’ve promised! That’s a dragon’s definition of protection. I see.”

  “No, you don’t!” Donovan raged at me.

  “Witches don’t physically harm dragons, but you sure as hell believe we’re wronging you every time one of us grows or eats one of those tubers! What dragon was stupid enough to bury that chest on witch land? Answer me that. Why wasn’t that dragon punished instead of the witches?”

  “That dragon is dead,” Donovan snarled. “And I grant you that he was a stupid dragon, but he was grief-stricken when his witch wife died of old age; he didn’t want to eat the tubers anymore so he could join her. I guess you think love is stupid, too, don’t you, Marley?”

  I bit my lip, and most of my rage evaporated to be replaced by regret. I hadn’t known that part of the story.

  “But witches can eat the tubers. They won’t die if they do like other mortals will,” I said.

  Donovan raked a hand through his hair and wouldn’t quite make eye contact with me as if he, too, were ashamed of his outburst. “He didn’t know that. Nobody did. Ironic, isn’t it? The first time a mortal spouse died after eating a tuber, the dragons forbade anyone other than dragons to grow and eat them. We had no idea the tuber’s magic worked on witches like it did on us.”

  I said, “If we had known the tubers killed mortals, I’m sure we never would have tried to grow them. But when a witch finds a new plant, it’s her nature to try to nurture it and discover all she can about it. It wasn’t until Grandmother ate one and woke up the next morning looking twenty instead of eighty that we even had any idea of the tuber’s magical properties.”

  “Yeah,” said Donovan, heaving a sigh. “And by the time the news got back to the Tauria dragons, every damn witch over the age of fifty had eaten those tubers, and they wouldn’t stop eating them when they realized that not only did they restore youth, but sustained it for a millennia. You stole our magic, Marley. Why can’t you see that?”

  “We didn’t steal it. We found it,” I cried. “And asking us to give it back after people like Grandmother turned back the clock and rediscovered their youth wasn’t exactly fair, was it? It’s not like we were depriving you of tubers you needed. There was and continues to be enough for us all. Why can’t you accept that? I’ve known toddlers better at sharing than you dragons.”

  “And you would think that witches, of all people, would respect other beings’ magic and not try to make it their own. Would you like it if we stole your plants and grew them ourselves, and gave them to the people so that your coven could no longer turn a profit and afford to keep roofs over your heads? We could have done that. It was even suggested we do that rather than flame your fields, but Balthasar has a soft spot for witches and convinced the Tauria dragons to do it his way.”

  “Maybe if you’d flamed one magical field. Not dozens of them!” I wanted out of this conversation, but there was nowhere to run. “That doesn’t sound like such a soft spot to me.”

  “Because you don’t understand dragons.” Donovan grimaced. “And no matter how much I try to explain things, you just keep turning it back on us as if we’re to blame for the bad blood between Tauria dragons and witches. We’re not.”

  “We didn’t know what we did!” Exasperation made my tone shrill. “All I understand about dragons is that they’ve kept the feud alive all these years. The witches would have forgiven you if you’d stopped destroying our crops.”

  “And there you go again.” Donovan’s mouth twisted with bitterness. “What happened to the little girl who tried to offer her favorite toy as a peace offering? She knew the witches were in the wrong, but somehow the grown woman doesn’t.”

  “Bunny was more than a toy. She was my dearest companion. Grandmother enchanted her. She could talk to me as real as any person.”

  “She never talked that day on the mountain.” Surprise widened Donovan’s eyes.

  I smiled wistfully. “She could only talk to me, and only when we were alone. Anyway, it was just a spell. It wasn’t like she was real.”

  “Except to a little five-year-old witch.” Donovan bowed his head.

  “I gave her to a dragon I trusted would do the right thing with her.” I jutted my chin. “The least you could have done was bring her back when the dragon council rejected the offering. If you even presented her in the first place.”

  Stunned hurt shone in Donovan’s eyes. “I didn’t know she was enchanted. I thought bringing her back would break your heart because it meant the grown-ups said no. And, of course I brought her to Balthasar and the council. In fact, I got a whipping for it.”

  “What?” Horrified, I could only stare at him.

  He sucked in a deep breath. “I wasn’t supposed to be flying alone, but I had to admit I had been when I showed them Bunny. They were more interested in punishing me for breaking the rules than they were hearing about a little witch’s peace offering.”

  “Donovan, that’s awful.” I ached for the teen boy he’d once been. And hated myself for doubting him.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t bring your Bunny back to you. That was thoughtless and selfish.” Donovan trudged away from me, head down. “Let’s go. Let me shift, and I’ll talk you through fastening the harnesses.”

  “It wasn’t thoughtless or selfish if you didn’t bring her back because you thought I’d be heartbroken,” I called after him.

  He stopped dead for a moment, half turned, but then said nothing. His expression of shame pained me.

  “Let’s go,” he repeated.

  Head bowed, he called up the ring of fire that surrounded him when he shifted to dragon form. Although I strained to see past the flames, the transformation occurred with such rapidity that he appeared to change from human to dragon in the blink of an eye.

  I waited until he swiveled his head in my direction before I lifted the surprisingly light chair mount and carried it over to him.

  He stretched out flat as he could on the grass so I could climb up his foreleg and place the chair mount on his back. I slid back down to the ground and held the straps pressed against his massive side as he slowly regained his footing. For a huge creature, he was remarkably agile.

  Securing the straps beneath his belly took less time than I imagined it would for such a bewildering task because Donovan talked me through the steps. His rumbly dragon voice soothed my agitated nerves. I wanted to stroke his nose and rub the ridging above his eyes, but I remembered that dragons didn’t like to be touched except by invitation. Donovan didn’t ask to be petted by me—no doubt he considered it demeaning, but I thought it might have increased intimacy between us. That was something he probably desired as little as an uninvited touch.

  I had to touch him to climb up into the chair mount, but there was no tenderness involved; it was merely practical and unavoidable unless I wanted to fall.

  Once secured to the chair mount, Donovan unfurled his striking green wings and beat them with increasing force until we were airborne.

  We soared through the rock archway leading into the common area and emerged above the mountain. Donovan headed north toward the village of Tauria, and my heart lifted. Were we going there where I could see Papa, Griselda, and my brothers?

  Donovan flew just above the tree tops, sometimes skimming them with his great back claws. In spite of my sadness, flying like this delighted me. I could have
reached out and snagged a fistful of pine needles if I’d wanted.

  Above us, the sky shone glorious blue, dotted here and there with puffy clouds.

  “Could we fly through a cloud?” I wondered.

  Donovan rumbled beneath me. “It’s wet inside clouds. Cold, too, mostly.”

  “Oh,” I said as a wave of humiliation washed over me. Why was I always asking stupid questions of him?

  My stomach plummeted as Donovan veered upward. I gripped the chair mount and stared at the large white cloud above us.

  We passed through it in a split-second. I barely had time to register a few splatters of wetness against my skin before we were through it and on the other side.

  I couldn’t help laughing aloud, especially when Donovan rumbled the dragon equivalent of laughter, too.

  I barely had time to catch my breath before he swooped down into a wide clearing, which I estimated was a few miles to the south of my coven’s land.

  Donovan landed in the middle of a freshly furrowed field. The pungent smell of earth saturated my senses, and I barely thought about anything else as I undid the straps and slid to the ground.

  I knelt so I could dig my fingers into the soft, crumbly dirt. Closing my eyes, I savored the connection of witch and earth. Inside me, my magic sang.

  When at last I opened my eyes again, Donovan, in human form, stood before me, fully dressed and staring at me with an oddly anxious expression.

  “It’s yours,” he said. “Your field to grow whatever you like. I plowed it yesterday. If I didn’t do it right, tell me. I used my claws, not an actual plow.”

  I crushed the dirt in my fist and looked up at him. “You did this for me? Just for me?”

  He nodded. “So you’ll have a place of your own that isn’t dark and made of stone. I can build you a little cottage, too, if you like. You can stay here for days if that’s what you want.”

  “The king said I was to live with you on Zodiac Mountain.” Dirt trickled between my fingers.

  “People get holidays, don’t they? Vacation getaways? Even dragon spouses.” Donovan crouched down so we were eye level. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”