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

by Jasmine Walt

  “A combination of luck and sheer grit.” Tariana covered her pain with a grim smile. “The fort was hosting a party to celebrate their great ‘victory’ over Dragonfell, and many of them were drunk. A guard heard me land on the roof, and when he came up to investigate, I killed him and took his clothes. Once I was certain no one was around, I snuck down to the stables and stole a horse. He’s in the stable.”

  “Amazing.” Lucyan shook his head in wonder. He wasn’t sure if he had the fortitude to endure what she had—he was no weakling, but neither was he a soldier. “I am on my way to Castle Whitestone now to break Dareena and Alistair out. I will do what I can to free Ryolas as well.”

  “Castle Whitestone?” Tariana gasped. “Lucyan, it is even more dangerous for our kind there than it is at Fort Arrowhill. You will be slaughtered if they catch you!”

  “I’m well aware, but I do have the advantage of the amulet,” Lucyan said. “Besides, the dragon god is watching over me. I know it will turn out all right.”

  Tariana gave him a skeptical look. “You’ve never been one to place your faith in the gods.”

  Lucyan chuckled. “That was before I talked to the dragon god myself.”

  Tariana’s eyes went wide as he told her about his visits with the false oracle and the dragon god. “I would be inclined to outright dismiss your story if you weren’t the one telling it,” she said when he finished. “But as you are the most cynical of us all, I believe you. If the oracle is an imposter, and if Dareena and her babe are in mortal danger, then of course you must go.”

  “Yes, but while I’m here,” Lucyan said, sliding his arms underneath Tariana, “why don’t we get you outside so you can heal and shift before I go?”

  Tariana nodded. Quickly, Lucyan put his disguise charm back on, then swaddled Tariana in her cloak and carried her down the stairs with her clothes in hand. He received a strange look from one of the guests on his way down, but thankfully no one else saw them. Fast as he could manage, he brought Tariana to a copse of trees just outside the town, then deposited her on the ground so she could change. The air shimmered around Tariana, heating up with dragon fire as her form blurred, stretching and elongating into a magnificent beast with red-gold scales and long spikes jutting from the top of her head and all along her spine.

  Lucyan couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy as his sister stretched her long, sinuous form—he wished he could shift, and wondered how long it would take for that instinct to kick in. It had happened for Drystan…had his brother attempted it since that day? With all that had been going on, likely not.

  Tariana let out a low rumble, then nuzzled her snout against Lucyan’s chest in farewell. “Safe flight, sister,” he said, stroking her warm, smooth hide, and a surge of affection swelled his heart. “Tell Drystan I said hello.”

  Tariana nodded, then backed away to give herself room. With a single flex of her powerful haunches, she launched herself high into the air, then pumped hard with her wings to propel herself above the clouds.

  Lucyan bent down to pick up the amulet she’d left on the ground as he watched her go. The headache that squeezed at his temples disappeared the moment he put it back on.

  Alistair must feel a hundred times worse, Lucyan thought grimly as he headed back to the inn. He needed to convince the tinkerer to pick up the pace, for he had a feeling that if they delayed much longer, he would be too late to save his brother and their mate.

  18

  On the fourth day of Dareena’s “stay” in Castle Whitestone, the guards finally gave her leave to walk about the castle and grounds. Since they considered her helpless and weak, they did not require her to have an escort, though they did forbid her from going anywhere near the dungeons to visit Alistair.

  This last bit infuriated Dareena, as she was certain that a visit would do him some good. Even holding his hand for an hour a day would alleviate some of his sickness, but the guards refused to hear of it, and Arolas had left the castle, so she could not appeal to him. She tried the king as well, but he would not see her—apparently, he was too busy taking care of state matters to entertain her for even a few moments.

  Frustrated, Dareena went to the one place that might offer answers—the library. Much of the tomes were inscribed with elven runes, impossible for her to read, but after careful searching, she managed to unearth a slim tome written in the common alphabet that turned out to be a primer on elven runes. She spent the next day teaching herself to decipher the symbols, and slowly, painstakingly went through other tomes, hoping to find another primer that could teach her the basics of elven magic.

  Eventually, she came across a manuscript titled Magic for Beginners, which turned out to be exactly what she was looking for. She learned that elven magic best functioned in Elvenhame itself but worked reasonably well outside the country, though it took longer to gather the amount of life force needed to cast spells. As Basilla had explained, there were many sources from which to draw energy, and each elf tended to draw from some sources better than others. The author warned against the dangers of taking too much from any one plant or animal unless the circumstances were dire, as doing so could kill it.

  “Hmm,” Dareena said aloud, pondering this concept. Was it possible to use this aspect of elven magic as a weapon? Could she kill someone if she was able to drain their energy? Of course, she would have to do it quickly, or they would fight back, and Dareena wasn’t sure she was capable of it since her elven blood was so diluted. But surely elves had done this sort of thing in the past. She couldn’t imagine at least one of them hadn’t tried.

  “Lady Dareena?” a familiar voice asked, startling Dareena. She looked up from the manuscript to see Princess Basilla standing a few feet away, a puzzled look on her lovely face. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Oh, just a bit of light reading.” Dareena closed the book and laid it face down. “I’ve no one to talk to, and things have gotten awfully boring.”

  “You could have come to seek me out,” Basilla said, taking a seat next to Dareena. “The guards told me they saw you come down this way, but I confess I didn’t believe them at first. I had no idea you could read—Arolas said you were a commoner.”

  “I am, but I had to learn to read as part of my job,” Dareena said. “I was the assistant to an innkeeper and helped him with his books and such.”

  “Really?” Basilla seemed fascinated by that. “Did you ever imagine your life would take such a drastic turn?”

  Dareena laughed. “Certainly not,” she said, looking around. “The last thing I expected was to become the Dragon’s Gift, never mind being carted off to the elven kingdom and held as ransom.”

  Basilla flinched guiltily. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way,” she lamented. “You and your mates are not responsible for what King Dragomir has done. And yet, I understand my father’s position as well. This war has cost us precious time and resources, and our people never laid a finger on your predecessor. We deserve reparations for what we have suffered.”

  “I agree with you,” Dareena said, “but I do not agree that Alistair should be forced to waste away in the dungeons, sick and in pain because of this awful anti-dragon spell. Please, Basilla,” she said, grabbing the princess’s hand, “you must help me get him out of there. If Alistair should die, there will be no peace between our peoples.”

  A troubled look crossed Basilla’s face. “Do you really think he will die down there?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Dareena’s stomach knotted at the very thought. She was sick at the idea of Alistair down there, all alone, likely living off moldy bread and water while he wasted away. “But he was in very bad shape when we arrived, shaking and with fever. I know he’s a dragon, but even he cannot withstand such sickness forever.”

  “I will speak to my father, but I’m afraid I cannot promise anything. He has shut me out completely—Ryolas was brought back yesterday, and he refused to listen to my pleas to visit him. The only person he will listen to is Aro
las, which troubles me greatly. It is not like Father to sit back and let others make decisions for him.”

  “Grief does strange things to people,” Dareena said, though she wondered if there wasn’t something more sinister afoot. The warlocks had sunk their claws deep into Elvenhame. Could it be they had done something to the king? Perhaps Arolas had struck some bargain with them? It was obvious the elven prince cared for no one other than himself. She would not put it above him to force his father off the throne so he could take the crown for himself.

  “Do you know anything about Shalia’s Curse?” Dareena asked. “I’ve always been curious to know if the elves have a different version of events to what I learned as a child.”

  “I’m sure the bedtime stories differ between countries,” Basilla said with a small smile. “I believe there is a book lying around here somewhere about the origins of the legend. Let me see if I can find it.”

  Basilla came back a few moments later carrying a slim tome in her elegant hand. “I’ve read this more times than I can count.” She handed it to Dareena. “I’m one of the priestesses who tend Shalia’s temple here in the capital, though it is mostly an empty title—I only go for special ceremonies. This book is part of the reading list we are required to get through as part of our training.”

  “A priestess?” Dareena cocked her head as she studied Basilla. “What does the elven goddess think about one of her priestesses spending time with the Dragon’s Gift?”

  Basilla laughed. “She has not said, but I imagine she would not be thrilled to hear of it. I can’t bring myself to care, though—all this old enmity between our people is quite silly. As far as I’m concerned, the curse should have been lifted a long time ago. Perhaps if it had, we wouldn’t be stuck in this dreadful war.”

  Dareena smiled. “I agree. Lifting the curse would go a long way toward mending this old wound, I think.” She was tempted to tell Basilla about the prophecy she’d discovered, but she wasn’t certain it would be wise to trust her with something like that when they barely knew each other.

  Basilla’s gaze turned thoughtful. “You know, I could search the old temple records and see if I can find any more information on the curse,” she said, rising. “I have to go there this afternoon—the head priestess requires me to visit monthly.” She screwed up her face in distaste.

  Dareena laughed. “Well, you wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.” She looped her arm through Basilla’s. She walked the princess out, then returned to her room, the two books hidden in the voluminous folds of her skirt. She would study up on the curse’s history, then see if she could find a good spell from that magic primer to practice. She didn’t expect miracles, not overnight, but she needed to find a way to free herself and Alistair before Arolas returned. She had a feeling the prince was looking for any excuse to visit misery upon them, and she wanted to be long gone before he decided to execute them, or worse.

  19

  By the time Drystan finally turned in for the night, he was exhausted. With Lucyan, Taldren, and Catriona all gone off to perform various missions, he was the only one left to hold down the fort, and it took everything he had to keep a brave face and not let the courtiers know how much this was all getting to him.

  Drystan collapsed onto his bed, instantly falling into a deep sleep. He wasn’t certain how long he lay floating in the blissful darkness, but gradually, the shadows morphed into a hazy picture, and the next thing he knew, he was looking up at his mate.

  “Dareena?” he whispered, reaching up to cup her cheek. She smiled, turning her face into his palm so she could press her lips against his skin, then moved lower down his body. Drystan reached for her, wanting to hold her in his arms, but she pushed his hands away and pulled down his trousers, freeing his rapidly swelling member. Drystan hissed as she took his cock in her small, dainty hands and began to pleasure him.

  “Yes,” he groaned, arching his hips into her as she slid her hand up and down his shaft. Gods, that felt so good. “Please, don’t stop.”

  “Mmm,” Dareena purred, lowering her mouth onto his cock. Her hot tongue swirled around the head of his shaft, making him see stars, but something about her voice seemed off. He reached for her, and though his hand should have met dark, silken tresses, he instead felt tightly coiled curls.

  “What the hell?” Drystan barked, sitting up in bed. He blinked hard, adjusting to the darkness, and in the moonlight, Lady Dalmouth knelt between his legs—one of the noblewomen who had come to see him with her father earlier today. She was stark naked, the silvery light highlighting her milk-white skin, and her heavy breasts bounced as she recoiled, no doubt repelled by the anger in his gaze.

  “I’m sorry to startle you, Your Highness,” she said, her eyes wide. “It’s just…you looked so tense earlier when my father and I spoke with you in the throne room. I thought perhaps you were missing Lady Dareena and needed someone to take your mind off her.”

  “You thought wrong.” Drystan grabbed her dress from the chair and yanked the garment over her head, then ushered her out of his suite. “Don’t ever do something like that,” he snarled, shoving her into the hallway. “If I catch you in my quarters again, I will banish you from the Keep permanently.”

  He slammed the door in her shocked face and stormed back to his room, shaking with anger. Unfortunately, his cock was still hard and aching—he missed Dareena so fiercely that Lady Dalmouth’s touch had stirred up the longings he’d buried so deep. Sinking onto the mattress, he wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly moved his hand up and down, just as he’d dreamed Dareena doing. If he closed his eyes, he could see her again in his mind’s eye, that combination of innocence and lust on her gorgeous face as she knelt between his legs and worked his cock. He watched as she rose onto her knees, long-lashed eyes closing as she touched herself with her free hand, her fingers growing slick with cream…

  “Oh gods,” Drystan groaned as he came, shooting his seed all over his belly. The release was both satisfying and somehow hollow—beating himself off wasn’t the same as coming in Dareena’s tight pussy and planting a babe deep inside her. He hoped the dragonling growing in her belly was safe and not being adversely affected by the anti-dragon spell. The pregnancy was in the early stages yet—if Lucyan could get Dareena and Alistair out of there, they might be able to avoid any lasting damage to the babe.

  That child was the key to lifting the curse. Drystan knew it in his heart as surely as he knew that all four of them were meant to be together. He couldn’t allow any harm to come to that baby, no matter who or what he had to sacrifice to ensure its safety.

  Drystan mopped up the mess on his stomach with a rag, then lay back down to sleep. He was just drifting off again when a knock came at his door, and he quickly yanked the sheet up to cover himself.

  “Who is it?” he snapped, thoroughly irritated. It had better not be another trollop, or he would lose what little remaining patience he had.

  “Catriona.” His sister pushed open the door, a triumphant smile on her face. “We got him.”

  “You did?” Drystan sat upright, excitement pumping in his veins. “The oracle is in custody right now? Where is he?”

  “In the deepest, darkest cell we have,” Catriona said with a cruel smirk. “Capturing him was all too easy—a simple sleeping potion slipped into his drink allowed us to carry him out of the temple without raising the alarm or dealing with any of his foul magic tricks. He won’t wake for some hours, but he’ll be ready for you to interrogate in the morning.”

  “Excellent. We’ll do so after breakfast.”

  Catriona bid him a good night, and Drystan went back to sleep, a great weight sliding off his shoulders. For once, something was finally going right around here. He drifted off with a smile on his face, clinging to the hope that he would get something useful out of the warlock spy, and that, in the meantime, Lucyan was making headway on his efforts to rescue Dareena and Alistair.

  20

  Alistair groaned back to consciousness
and scrubbed away the crud encrusting his eyelids to find himself in the same dark cell he’d passed out in. He still burned with fever, but not quite as bad as before. As his stomach rumbled, aching for sustenance, he wondered just how long he’d been out, and how often the jailers brought food.

  Gritting his teeth against the pain and weakness in his limbs, he pushed himself upright and looked around the small space. Aside from the bench, there was a chamber pot for him to do his business in and a small jug of water on the filthy floor. Alistair fell upon it like a rabid animal, drinking down half the pitcher in one go. Panting, he sat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, wondering if he should dump the rest of the water over his head. As a dragon, heat didn’t usually bother him, but this sickness was downright miserable.

  “Bloody hell,” someone growled. Alistair started—the voice sounded as if it was coming from right above him, but that was impossible. “I’m going to strangle that bastard if I ever get out of here!”

  Alistair spotted an air vent a few feet above his head. Curious, he stood on the bench, ignoring the wave of dizziness that passed over him, and pressed his hands to the wall to steady himself. “Hello?” he called through the vent. “Who are you planning on strangling?”

  Silence. Then, “My backstabbing whore of a brother,” the voice said. “Who are you?”

  “Alistair of Dragonfell.” He leaned his forehead against the wall and gave a near-silent sigh of relief as the cool stone eased his fever a bit. “I’m guessing you are Prince Ryolas?” He vaguely recognized the voice from when the prince had met him and his brothers in the forest.

  “Indeed,” Ryolas said, a bitter note in his voice. “Not that the title seems to be worth much these days. They’ve clapped me in iron chains—bad business for an elf, as you probably know.”