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

by Jasmine Walt

  “You’re not going to do it by selling off your belongings,” Lucyan said. He knocked back his drink in one go, then swiftly poured another. “That will ruin the notion that we are not destitute and scrambling for cash. I have an emergency fund stored away—I’ll fetch it for you so you can pay the staff wages.”

  “Thank you.” Drystan sighed in relief, then took a sip of port. “Now would you mind telling me where the bloody hell you’ve been all day? And why I should steer clear of the oracle?”

  “Shadley has informed me that the oracle has been spreading rumors that Dareena’s status as the Dragon’s Gift is not legitimate.” Lucyan’s eyes flashed. “I decided to pay him a visit and see if there was any truth to that.”

  “That’s absurd,” Drystan protested. “The oracle proclaimed her himself. Why would he go back on that now and risk damaging his own reputation?”

  “That is exactly what he said to me,” Lucyan said, taking the seat to Alistair’s right. “He said that of course Dareena is the Dragon’s Gift, but that the prophecy she found is bollocks. According to him, the dragon god has decreed that Dareena must mate with the strongest of us, and that the three of us must fight each other to the death to win her hand.”

  “To the death?” Drystan recoiled, his blood turning to ice. He couldn’t imagine trying to kill his brothers over anything, even Dareena. “That’s impossible. The dragon god could not have decreed such a thing.”

  “He didn’t,” Lucyan said archly. “I went and spoke to him myself.”

  “You what?”

  “Apparently,” Lucyan went on, as if he hadn’t just dropped an anvil on Drystan’s head, “there is a sacred cave a half day’s journey from here that our ancestors used to commune with the dragon god. Our father knew about the cave, as did his father before him, but he never got around to telling us about it. Shadley discovered the information in an old tome in the library, and I followed the instructions and summoned the god.”

  Drystan stared at Lucyan. “That’s…how was it?” he asked faintly. He tried to wrap his mind around actually speaking to the dragon god face to face. He had no idea such a thing was even possible! “Did you actually gaze upon him? Or was his brilliance too great to behold?”

  “His brilliance was manageable,” Lucyan said dryly. “He seemed quite cross that nobody had come to visit him in so long. He also confirmed what I suspected—the oracle is an imposter. He said the man is really a warlock named Mathias Black, and that he killed the original oracle six years ago and took his position. He is a plant, and has been working to topple our kingdom from within.”

  “Unbelievable.” Drystan scrubbed a hand over his face. “And he is sitting comfortably in the temple right now, free as a bird?”

  “Yes,” Lucyan said darkly. “And that is not all. The dragon god said that Dareena is pregnant, and that we need to get her and Alistair out of Elvenhame before great danger befalls them. They are not safe there.”

  “Pregnant?” Drystan cried. For a moment, he was giddy with happiness, but his mood plummeted as the rest of what Lucyan said caught up with him. “It seems that just when I think things can’t get any worse, they do.” Guilt swamped him at the thought of Dareena in harm’s way, and pregnant with their child… “Did the dragon god say anything about the babe?”

  “He confirmed that the child, as well as the four of us, are the keys to breaking the curse,” Lucyan said, “which makes it even more important for us to get Dareena and Alistair back. The dragon god said we should focus on coming up with a plan to get them to safety rather than scramble to come up with funds for the ransom. He seemed to insinuate that if we play our cards right, everything would turn in our favor…though of course he didn’t say exactly which cards to play.”

  Drystan sighed. “Of course not. That would be far too easy.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “It seems that we have two main tasks to focus on—eliminating the oracle, and rescuing our mate and brother.”

  Lucyan nodded. “The oracle is a tricky one,” he said, his gaze turning pensive. “He is a favorite of the people, so if we kill or imprison him, that may make our political position even worse than it already is.”

  “We cannot allow him to run amok and continue to make mischief,” Drystan protested. “He has murdered at least one man that we know of, and possibly more. And who knows how many state secrets he has fed the warlocks?”

  “He’s probably managed to worm a great deal of information out of Father, in the guise of being his confidante,” Lucyan said darkly. “We will have to kidnap him under the cover of darkness, without alerting anyone that we have him or that he is in our dungeons.”

  “Right. We’ll have to ensure only the most trusted guards watch him,” Drystan said. “We don’t have anyone else in the dungeons right now—that will make it easier. As far as the public is concerned, he will simply have disappeared in the middle of the night.”

  “I’ll assign the task to Taldren and Catriona,” Lucyan decided. “Those two are well-trained and stealthy enough to make it happen. As for Dareena…” He trailed off, mulling over what few options they had. “I’ll go and break them out myself.”

  “Are you mad?” Drystan said with a scowl. “You can’t go to Elvenhame. That anti-dragon spell the warlocks gave them will weaken you as soon as you go over the border.”

  “Ahh, warlocks.” Lucyan gave him a crafty smile. “The nice thing about them is they often have the cure as well as the poison. I purchased a protective amulet from a warlock a few years ago that wards against hostile magic—it should work to shield me from the spell.”

  Drystan chuckled. “Of course you did.” His brother was ever resourceful—Drystan often wondered just how many tricks he had in that proverbial bag of his, and if they would ever run out. “I suppose you ought to go—after all, Tariana likely doesn’t have any such protection herself, and she went running off to rescue Ryolas this morning.”

  Lucyan rolled his eyes. “Naturally,” he said. “Love makes fools of us all, doesn’t it? I imagine that if you weren’t anchored down by your sense of duty and honor, you might be the one rushing off to Elvenhame instead of me.”

  Drystan smiled. “Very likely,” he said, “but you are the better man for that job, Lucyan.”

  Lucyan got to his feet. “I’ll go make the preparations now,” he said. “Shadley has a cache of charms that his agents use to disguise their looks—I’ll go borrow one and then pack for the journey.”

  “Good.” Drystan stood and clasped his brother in a hard hug. “Bring them back safely, Lucyan,” he said roughly, a rare swell of emotion tightening his throat. He’d already sent one brother to the enemy. He couldn’t bear it if he lost both.

  16

  Alistair and Dareena were sound asleep when footsteps marching up the hall woke him. The hairs on his arms stood on end, and he quickly sat up, buttoning his tunic shirt and pulling his trousers on again.

  “What is it?” Dareena asked sleepily, curling her fingers around his arm. “Where are you going?”

  “It’s Arolas,” Alistair growled, getting to his feet. He could smell the bastard a mile away. “He’s coming for me.”

  The door banged open, and Arolas marched into the room with a pair of guards. “As I thought,” the elven prince sneered, raking his cold blue stare over Dareena’s barely covered form. “The moment my guards turn their back, the two of you are at it like rabbits again.”

  “Don’t touch me,” Alistair snarled as the guards marched forward. He tried to fight them off, but they were in close quarters, and he was worried about accidentally hurting Dareena. Gritting his teeth, he struggled against them as they bound his arms behind his back, clamping shackles around his wrists tight enough to make them smart.

  “Since you don’t know how to keep your cock in your pants,” Arolas said with a cruel smirk, “I’m carting it, and you, off to the dungeons to help preserve what’s left of the lady’s honor. Take him away,” he said to the guards with a snap of
his fingers.

  “You can’t do this!” Dareena cried as Alistair was dragged away. He met her frantic gaze, and his heart clenched with guilt and anger as he continued to struggle. He could already feel his strength waning. In a few hours, he would not have enough energy to lift a finger, never mind brawl with a bunch of elves.

  “You promised not to mistreat us,” Dareena said fiercely to Arolas. “If you take him away from me, he will grow sick again.”

  “Perhaps you should have thought of that when you allowed him to spread your legs like a common whore,” Arolas said.

  Alistair saw red, and he lunged for the prince despite his hands being tied. The guards yanked him back and dragged him through the door, but not before he saw the prince’s gaze drift over Dareena’s body, lingering on the outline of her bosom through the sheets. “But then again, perhaps King Drystan already knows of your proclivities and has made his peace with them. I wonder if he would mind if I took a turn with you?”

  “You insolent pig!” Dareena’s hand cracked against Arolas’s cheek as the guards shoved Alistair down the hall.

  Pride surged through him, along with a healthy dose of fear at the thought of her alone with Arolas. Would the elven prince really take advantage of her? From what Alistair knew, dragons disgusted the man, but Dareena wasn’t a dragon. And if she truly had elven blood…

  Grief and rage burned at Alistair’s throat as the guards hauled him off to the dungeon—an oubliette, he discovered as they lifted a trapdoor and threw him into the darkness below. He hit the ground hard, his shoulder smarting, and the scents of piss and sweat and dung immediately assailed his nose. The waiting jailer hauled him to his feet, and Alistair stumbled through the dimly lit hall, his eyes adjusting. The hall was lined with small, cramped cells, and from the moans and whimpers he heard, several were occupied.

  “Enjoy your stay,” the jailer sneered. He untied Alistair’s hands, then shoved him into a cell at the end of the hall. The door clanged shut behind him, and Alistair sank onto the hard, wooden bench, his stomach sinking with dread. A fever was already coming over him—far too quickly, considering he’d only been separated from Dareena mere moments ago.

  Was it from the Change, or was the anti-dragon spell stronger down here? he wondered, passing a hand over his burning forehead. Gods, he was so tired of feeling sick and helpless, like a weak dragonling instead of the strong, magnificent prince he was born and bred to be.

  Either way, Alistair felt like death was seeping into his bones, filling him with pain and weakness, robbing him of his will to live. He drifted into a dark, shadowy dream where he followed the sound of Dareena’s voice crying out to him to help her. In the dream, he could hear Arolas laughing, and the sounds of her screams, and he ran faster, trying to get to his mate before the elven prince could rape her, or worse.

  But as far as he ran, he couldn’t catch up, and the screams went on and on. He was stuck down here, Alistair realized dimly, and he sank to the ground in his dream, tears running down his face as he tore at his hair in agony and despair. Stuck, with no way to help his beloved no matter how hard he tried.

  17

  “Get your kitchen wares here! Pots and pans! Ladles and cutlery! Sharpen your knives!” Lucyan called as he trudged through the small town of Idlewood at a pace that was slowly driving him mad. “The tinkerer is back in town, and his prices can’t be beat!”

  “Louder,” the tinkerer ordered, a stern look on his wizened face. He sat beside Lucyan on the bench, his big, rough hands gripping the reins as he steered the mule. “How am I going to make any coin if you keep whispering like that?”

  “I’m yelling as loud as I can,” Lucyan said crossly. “I’m not used to being a herald.” Or an apprentice, for that matter, he thought to himself, but there was nothing he could do about that. The tinkerer was a good friend of Shadley’s, and sneaking into the elven kingdom under the guise of being his apprentice was an excellent disguise, since the tinkerer was one of the few humans allowed to travel freely between the kingdoms. The elves could not work normal metals due to their inability to tolerate it, and yet mithril was too costly to spare on pots and pans and the like, so they allowed humans like the tinkerer to come in and peddle their wares. The tinkerer was especially popular amongst the human population—elven households could only tolerate a limited number of the tinkerer’s wares, but the humans had no such issue.

  “Mr. Haveshamer,” a little girl cried, scampering out of a nearby house. She wore a pale pink dress, and her dirty blonde hair was pulled back from her adorable round face into pigtails. “Do you have any lollies today?”

  “For you? Always.” The tinkerer gave her a jovial smile and plucked one of the candies from a tin. “That’ll be a haycopper,” he said.

  The little girl gave him the money, and as she scampered away, more children came out of their homes, along with their parents. Before Lucyan knew it, they were doing a brisk business, housewares practically flying off the cart. By the time they made it through the rest of the town, they’d offloaded a good tenth of their wares.

  “Not bad,” the tinkerer said approvingly as he counted the coins in the till. “We’ll eat well tonight, Ramsey,” he said, using Lucyan’s assumed name.

  They stopped at the local inn—a two-story establishment with eight rooms and a small, cozy pub. While the tinkerer sharpened his knives, Lucyan unhitched the mule from the cart. As the animal drank from the trough next to the small stable behind the inn, Lucyan idly listened to the two inn staff members smoking pipes out back. He had no fear of anyone recognizing him—the charm Shadley had given him had turned his red hair dull brown, his amber eyes slate gray, and his features bland and unassuming. No one would guess that he was a dragon prince, especially not in the rough, patched-up tunic he wore.

  “We’re going to have to turn her out, you know,” one of the men said ruefully. “She has no coin left for her meals, never mind the room.”

  “Aye,” the second man said, “but I feel bad, turning her out when she’s so ill. She was limping when she came in, but at least then she still looked as though she could crack a few skulls, if need be. Now she can barely walk out the door. We’d have to drag her.”

  “Which would be no mean feat,” the first man said. “I’ve never seen a woman so tall and muscular. I thought she was a man before she lowered her cloak.”

  Lucyan froze. A tall, muscular woman, sick as a dog…could it be? It had been several days since he’d left Dragon’s Keep, and though under normal circumstances Tariana would have reached Castle Sunstone by now, she would be hampered by the anti-dragon spell. Quickly, he stabled the mule, then went through the back door of the inn. Now that he was paying attention, he picked out Tariana’s scent easily—it was faint, down here on the lower level, but as he crept up the stairs, it grew stronger, along with the scent of blood and rot.

  “Blast it,” Lucyan growled. He fished a set of lock picks from his pocket and opened the door. Inside, Tariana lay on the narrow bed in nothing but her underthings, her skin flushed and coated with sweat, her face contorted in agony. She’d dyed her hair brown, and had likely used the cloak hanging over her chair and the makeup smudged on her face to hide her features, but Lucyan would recognize her anywhere. Her left thigh, wrapped in a bloody bandage, emitted a terrible odor. The wound had not been treated properly, and with the anti-dragon spell hampering her ability to heal, rot was setting in.

  Lucyan approached slowly, doing his best not to startle his sister, but even so, her eyes flew open, and she shot upright, a dagger clenched in her fist. “S-stay back,” she stammered, her eyes wide and her body trembling.

  “Shhh.” Lucyan pulled the charm ring off his finger, revealing his natural form. “It’s me, Tari.”

  “L-Lucyan?” Tariana dropped the knife and went limp. Cursing, Lucyan yanked the amulet, which he wore on a leather cord around his neck, over his head and placed it over Tariana’s. Unscrewing the cap on his canteen, he brought it to her lips a
nd gently coaxed her to drink.

  “There now,” he said as her temperature began to cool. “You’re all right.”

  “Thank you,” she gasped, wiping her mouth with her hand as she leaned back against the pillows. “How did you find me?”

  “The staff were talking about a sick woman,” Lucyan said, sitting down on the edge of the rickety bed, “and I figured out it was you from their description.” Sighing, he smoothed a sweaty strand of hair from his sister’s face. “What did you do to yourself, Tari? You look like shit.”

  Tariana cracked a smile. “You haven’t called me that since you barely came up to my knee,” she said. The fond look in her eyes made Lucyan vaguely uncomfortable.

  “Yes, well, seeing one’s sister on her deathbed can do strange things to a man,” Lucyan said. “What in blue blazes happened to your leg?” he asked, twisting around to take off the bandage. Now that Tariana’s powers weren’t being hampered anymore, the wound would heal better if it was exposed to the air rather than suffocated by these nasty strips of linen.

  “I was trying to rescue Ryolas,” she said bitterly. “I flew as fast as I could to reach him—Shadley’s spies reported he was held in Fort Arrowhill. I made sure to stay high above the clouds so the elves would not notice me, but as I approached the fort, the same magic Arolas used to defeat our sisters took hold of me, and I was forcibly changed back into a human. I landed hard on the roof and impaled my leg on one of the spikes. It was one of the most excruciatingly painful moments I have ever endured, and as I lay there, waiting for an opportunity to escape, I overheard the soldiers mention that Ryolas had been bundled off into a cart several hours before I arrived. They’re taking him to the capital,” she said in a choked voice, her eyes gleaming with tears. “He’ll be executed there.”

  Lucyan winced. “I’m so sorry, Tari.” He tossed aside the ruined bandages so he could take her frail hand in his. “How did you escape?”