Dragon's Blood: a Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (The Dragon's Gift Trilogy Book 2)

by Jasmine Walt

  “It’s a bit odd, don’t you think,” Drystan said as he replaced the painting, “that Father chose to move the treasury into his suite.”

  Lucyan shrugged. “We dragons do like to hoard our treasure, and besides, it isn’t like Father was doing anything with these extra rooms.” The royal suite had an interesting design—in the center were the main bedchamber and the salon, but surrounding it were four different bedrooms. The dragon kings of old had been fortunate enough to have multiple wives, hence the plethora of rooms, but after their race had been stricken by Shalia’s Curse, those rooms had become obsolete. The room on the left had traditionally belonged to the Dragon’s Gift, but until their father had taken the throne, the others had sat empty.

  “What do you think about refurbishing this place?” Lucyan asked as he crossed the salon to the door on the far right. “We can give Dareena the main bedroom and each take one of these smaller rooms for ourselves. That way we can all be together. We’ll need to get rid of these ugly animal heads, though”—he gestured to the stag and bear heads jutting out of the walls— “and I doubt Dareena will care for all the antique weapons strewn about.”

  Drystan laughed. “I like that idea a lot,” he said, the light returning to his eyes as he looked around the space again. “It would be a lovely surprise for Dareena when she returns home. And we could give the weapons to Alistair.” As the soldier of their bunch, their youngest brother was fond of weapons of all kinds, and could wield almost anything you could throw at him.

  Lucyan smiled, then turned the key in the lock. It had been years since he’d pilfered from the treasury, but he remembered the piles of gold and jewels well—their kingdom was rich. They should have no trouble paying Dareena’s ransom, and once they proved to the elves that they had no intention of spilling more blood, he was certain they could negotiate some sort of treaty.

  “Lucyan…” Drystan said faintly as the door swung open. “Are you certain this is the right room?”

  “I…” Lucyan’s jaw sagged. The room was completely empty, save for some cobwebs in the corner. Panic slammed into him as he rushed into the room, looking everywhere, prying at the stones in the walls and floor to see if their father had somehow hidden the treasure from view. But there was nothing. Not so much as a single copper graced the stone floor.

  “How could this happen?” Drystan demanded, his face red with anger. “How could Father have spent all our money?”

  “He wouldn’t have,” Lucyan said faintly, leaning against the wall. He looked out the single window toward the Black Mountains. If he stared long enough, would he see his father there, circling the peaks of those chilly mountains, more beast than human now that he’d given in to his madness? “It’s more likely that he’s moved the treasure somewhere else in his paranoia.”

  “We’d bloody well better recover it before the elves come knocking again,” Drystan growled. “If the other kingdoms find out that we’ve become paupers, we’re done for. Do we have any money at all?”

  “Tarius has a petty cash box,” Lucyan said absently, his mind racing through various possibilities as he tried to figure out where their father might have hidden the treasure. Most likely, he’d been moving it in small increments over the decades—the treasure was far too large for any one person to carry, even a dragon, and there was the matter of getting it out of the tower unseen. “It will suffice for current expenses until we can recover the treasury.”

  Drystan nodded. “Lucky for us, taxes are due in the next two weeks,” he said. “That will help replenish our coffers. If Father is hiding in the Black Mountains, that is likely where the treasure is, too. We dragons defend our hoards to the death, after all—even in his madness he would not leave all that gold undefended.”

  “Right. I’ll ask Tariana to send some troops into the mountains to scout the caves,” Lucyan said.

  They found Tariana in the guardroom, in deep conversation with the captain, and took her aside to inform her of the problem.

  “Blast it,” she growled, her eyes blazing with anger. “I should have known Father would try something like this. He was always going on about how greedy his advisors were, and that everyone was trying to rob from him.” She flicked her reddish-gold braid over her shoulder, a calculating look entering her eyes as she considered the problem. “I have a company of soldiers camped out a few leagues from the Black Mountains,” she finally said. “I can spare a platoon to scout the mountains. I’ll send Xenai with them to make sure they stay on task.”

  “Excellent,” Lucyan said. He wasn’t close with Xenai, but knowing that one of his sisters would keep the scouts in line went a long way toward putting him at ease. “Make sure you instruct them not to approach if they find the king’s lair, and to only observe and report back with their findings.”

  “And don’t tell them about the treasure either,” Drystan warned. “The last thing we need is for some renegade soldier to decide to make off with it himself.”

  Tariana snorted. “They can try,” she said. “Our father would annihilate them all with a single scorched breath if they tried to enter his cave. Still,” she added, a troubled look crossing her face, “there is always some idiot who will ignore the dangers and become blinded by greed. I won’t tell them what’s inside the lair.”

  Decided, Tariana called for some parchment and a quill, then sent Xenai off to the Black Mountains to mobilize the company. Drystan and Lucyan were just about to leave when someone knocked at the door.

  “Lord Shadley!” Drystan cried, letting the visitor in. Lucyan felt a jolt of surprise at the sight of the spymaster, looking travel-worn, the edges of his cloak crusted with dirt, his face and hair dusty from the road. Tariana shot to her feet, and Lucyan stood up more slowly—his ribs had begun to protest from all the walking.

  “I’m so glad you made it back safe,” Tariana said, throwing her arms around him in an exuberant hug. “Although I confess I am surprised to see you back here so soon.”

  Shadley smiled as he returned the embrace. “A little birdy told me that there is trouble brewing here in Dragonfell,” he said, turning to face Drystan and Lucyan. “I thought you might have need of my services again,” he added, bowing.

  “Yes, we certainly could,” Drystan agreed. “I assume you already know that the elves have taken Dareena and Alistair, and that our father has run off?”

  Shadley nodded grimly. “I suppose it is a good thing that the king has abandoned his responsibilities,” he said. “I doubt he would be willing to negotiate with the elves if he were still here.”

  Lucyan let out a disgusted sigh. “No, he would likely just rally our forces and send us all to our deaths,” he said. “The envoy who collected Dareena and Alistair hinted that we would have to pay handsomely to get her back, which is proving to be quite a problem, as we have just discovered Father took the treasure with him when he ran off.”

  Shadley’s face paled. “That is a problem indeed,” he said. “Is there anything left at all?”

  “Only the steward’s petty cash fund,” Drystan said grimly.

  “Do you have any idea where our dear old dad may have hidden the treasure?” Lucyan asked. “We are guessing it is in the Black Mountains somewhere, as that is where he has fled, but it will take weeks to search through all the caves tucked away.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t be of much help in that regard,” Shadley said ruefully. “The king never let me access the treasury. I imagine that if I were a dragon, I would have spirited the gold away somewhere that was largely inaccessible to humans, which makes the mountains a perfect choice. If you wish, I can ask around and see if my spies have noticed any suspicious activity.”

  “Please do,” Drystan said. “We need all the help we can get.”

  As the others continued to discuss their various predicaments, a wave of exhaustion hit Lucyan. Bidding the others a good day, he returned to his suite and climbed back into bed, knowing he still had time before one of the wounded would be needing it. It wa
sn’t like him to be depressed, but between losing Dareena, Alistair, and the treasure, he was finding it difficult to maintain a positive outlook. One of the healers had left another bottle of potion by his bedside, which he downed quickly, then burrowed into the covers and sank into a healing sleep.

  He might not have Dareena with him in real life, but perhaps he could enjoy her presence in his dreams.

  6

  The border between Elvenhame and Dragonfell was a two-day journey, and Alistair and Dareena spent that entire time confined to the wagon, save for during the night, when they were given small, separate tents and bedrolls to sleep on. Dareena longed to crawl into Alistair’s tent and snuggle with him, to place her head against his chest and listen to his steady, reassuring heartbeat. But as far as everyone knew, she was Drystan’s wife, and it would look suspicious if she crawled into her brother-in-law’s tent.

  Why keep up this charade? she wondered the next day as their cart bumped and jostled over the rough dirt road. They’d taken to wrapping scarves around their faces to protect themselves from the clouds of dust that rose up from beneath the horses’ hooves, but even so, Dareena’s eyes were constantly watering, and she had to lie low in the cart to avoid the worst of it.

  Maybe it’s to protect Alistair, she mused, gazing up at him. He was seated on the floor next to her, his face a mask of stone as he stared out at the endless plains. If they knew that Alistair wasn’t merely the king’s brother, but a king himself, he would become an infinitely more valuable pawn. She hoped the council wasn’t giving Drystan and Lucyan a hard time about this arrangement—as far as she knew, Dragonfell had never had more than one king at any one time. Dareena knew there would be some objections—there always were with any sort of drastic change—but she prayed that the councilmen would see sense and realize there were bigger problems to worry about than how many arses sat on the throne.

  As Dareena nearly dozed off in the heat, Alistair hissed.

  “Alistair?” Dareena asked, sitting up in alarm. He clutched his chest, his face contorting in pain. “Are you all right?”

  “I…I don’t know,” he gasped, his face pale. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

  Dareena was about to call for the guards when he relaxed, sagging against the wall.

  “That was very odd,” he said.

  “Did the pain go away?” Dareena touched his forehead—clammy, but no sign of fever. What was happening?

  “Not exactly, but it’s a dull ache now rather than a sharp pain.” Alistair massaged his chest, a troubled look on his face. “I feel as though someone has reached in and yanked away half my strength.”

  “I wonder if it has anything to do with crossing the border?” Dareena asked, getting to her knees so she could look around. Sure enough, the flatlands had given way to rolling hills. Off in the distance, mountains jutted into the clear, blue sky, and she spotted a vast forest that couldn’t be more than five leagues ahead. A sense of peace swept over her as she stared out at the verdant landscape, and as she took in a deep lungful of air, she felt almost invigorated. Guilt swept through her at the thought—what was she doing enjoying the scenery while Alistair was in pain?

  “That’s absurd,” Alistair protested. “Why would the border make any difference?”

  But an hour later, Alistair only appeared to be getting worse. By the time they stopped for lunch, he was listless, his normally bright eyes dull, his blond hair limp, his steps dragging as Dareena guided him over to a log so they could sit and eat. The duchess watched them, a smug look in her eyes that raised Dareena’s hackles.

  “You know what’s happening to him, don’t you?” Dareena accused.

  “But of course. The warlocks crafted an enchantment to make our principal province inhospitable to dragons. Any dragon or dragon born who cross into this territory feel constant pain and are weakened as long as they remain here. Why do you think I allowed you to bring your brother-in-law with you?”

  “You’re lying,” Alistair snapped, glowering at her. “My sister would have reported it if our troops had been struck by such an enchantment.”

  “Unfortunately, the enchantment doesn’t cover all of our lands,” the duchess said. “It was quite costly, in terms of both power and money, to set it up, so we have only protected the heartland of our kingdom. The war has mostly taken place in the west, which was no doubt by Ryolas’s design. If he had met your sister on the battlefield here, we would have already won the war.” The duchess gave them a smirk.

  “This isn’t right,” Dareena protested. “You promised no harm would befall us while we were in your care.”

  The duchess shrugged. “There is nothing I can do about the enchantment,” she said. “But if you insist, I can always send Alistair back.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Alistair growled before Dareena could answer. “Wherever Dareena goes, I go.”

  “Suit yourself,” the duchess said lightly. Her jade eyes lingered on Dareena for a long moment. “I must say I am disappointed to see that you are not similarly affected. But I suppose the spell does not extend to you, since you do not actually have dragon blood in your veins.”

  “I suppose not,” Dareena said coolly, neglecting to mention the boost of energy coursing through her. She wondered if perhaps she really did have elven blood, and if being in the elven lands was awakening it.

  After lunch, they got back in the wagon and continued. On this side of the border, the guards allowed them to discard the bonds around their hands. As Dareena slipped her hand inside Alistair’s, some of the tension bled out of his shoulders, and he did not seem quite so miserable. Maybe touching her helped restore some of his vitality, the way having sex boosted his power.

  Alistair looked at the sky. “Looks like it’s going to rain soon.”

  Dareena followed his gaze to the storm clouds gathering above them. A few minutes later, she adjusted her cloak as the wind picked up and the air cooled. The trees dotting the landscape swayed, and soon, fat raindrops splashed onto them.

  “Find shelter!” one of the guards shouted as the drops quickly grew into a heavy downpour. The caravan headed off the main road, and everyone took shelter beneath a copse of oak trees. The thick canopy spared them from the worst of the storm, but even so, Alistair and Dareena huddled close beneath their cloaks, clinging to each other as thunder and lightning rent the dark sky.

  “Dareena,” Alistair said in a low voice. “Do you see what I’m seeing?”

  Dareena lifted her head to look where Alistair pointed. Her heart jumped at the sight of another caravan, much larger than theirs, headed in the opposite direction. Even through the pouring rain, Dareena recognized their armor—the Dragon Force soldiers who had been taken prisoner. Many of them stumbled through the rain, legs and arms bandaged, while others, too hurt to walk, were carried in carts like the one Alistair and Dareena rode in. The caravan was under guard, but even so, Dareena felt a massive wave of relief.

  “They’ve kept their word,” she said, clutching Alistair’s hand. “The prisoners are being sent home.” Or so she hoped. It was always possible the elves were putting on a charade for her benefit, but Dareena refused to believe that. Besides, there weren’t nearly enough elven guards to truly control the prisoners should they try to revolt. This was merely an escort, to ensure the Dragon Force soldiers went straight to the border and did not make any mischief.

  Alistair put an arm around her and kissed her brow. “You’ve done well,” he murmured against her skin. “Even if the commoners hate us right now, the soldiers will remember what you have done for them and will stand by your side when the time comes.”

  “By our side,” Dareena corrected. She nuzzled Alistair’s cheek, sensing the frustration lurking behind his gentle smile. Dareena knew he wanted to leap out of the wagon and talk to the prisoners—from the way he watched the passing soldiers, he was likely looking to see if his sisters were among them. But she knew the elves would never allow them to get so close—
if the soldiers knew their Dragon’s Gift and prince were huddled there amongst the trees, there was no telling what might happen. Some of the soldiers might try to fight the guards to get them back, and while they might succeed, such an action would only bring doom upon them. And Alistair knew it, which was why he remained in the cart even though his instincts had to be telling him to go to his people.

  “Everything will work out,” Dareena said softly, stroking his arm. He leaned into her touch, and she cradled his head against her chest and prayed to the dragon god that they would not be separated once they arrived at the capital. While touching him did seem to alleviate some of his discomfort, she could see that he was still tired and in pain. And though the elves had promised to treat them as guests once they arrived, Dareena knew in her heart that Alistair would need to keep his wits about him for what was coming next.

  7

  Three days after Dareena and Alistair left, Dragon’s Keep opened its gates to admit the flood of wounded Dragon Force soldiers who poured into the capital. Drystan was relieved that, while there were some terminal cases, most of the wounded were not on death’s door. Most would recover once they received proper care.

  Drystan, Lucyan, and Tariana had done their best to ensure the Keep was prepared for the influx of soldiers—every available bed had been converted into sick beds, and hundreds more had been set up in the various halls and salons. Even so, the Keep was too small to house them all, and they’d called on the townsfolk to help. There was still plenty of bitterness toward the dragons, especially from the Black Cloaks, but the men and women who made up the Dragon Force were still their countrymen, and were welcomed back by and large with open arms.

  “More healers are being brought in from the neighboring provinces,” Lucyan said. They were all seated around the dining table in the king’s suite—the only room in the Keep that had not been given over to the soldiers. “We are still understaffed, but hopefully these reinforcements shall arrive in the next day or so.”