Dragon of Central Perk (Exiled Dragons Book 11)

by Sarah J. Stone

  The alien turned before anyone could stop him and shot magic toward the ship's fuel tank. It ignited, and Desmond barely had time to react. He pushed backward, putting an arm against Sienna as a stream of magic shot from his hands. He was trying to block the alien's magic, and luckily, everyone on the platform had the same idea. If the alien's magic hit the fuel hold, the entire place would blow.

  “Hey!” Nathaniel's voice distracted the alien as he dropped the paperwork. Desmond watched as his stance changed, and his hands went out. He was ready to fight, but the alien was strong.

  Sienna made a noise, and he realized she was scared. She had likely never seen battle.

  “It's okay,” he said, quickly, as he reached his hand out to Nathaniel. It was easier when they were still bonded, but Nathaniel could still feel his offer for help. He redirected his palm, and the magic transferred between the two of them.

  The alien shot a blast of magic that could have destroyed the whole platform, but Nathaniel's borrowed strength, combined with his own, stopped it cold. As quickly as he had stopped the shot, another one came.

  Witches were taught not to kill unless they had to, to be more peacemakers than killers. At the last second, Nathaniel circled his hands to twist the magic, and it formed a bubble rather than a single shot.

  The alien froze, trapped. His limbs were frozen above his head, and his mouth twisted in a sneer.

  Desmond held the pose until Nathaniel dropped his. Both their shoulders dropped, relaxing.

  “It's okay,” he turned back to Sienna, who was watching with her jaw open. Her hand twisted, a bit of magic coming out.

  “Warrior,” she said, and Desmond smiled.

  “Yes,” he replied. “We are warriors. And you are safe, little one. I promise.”

  Chapter 8

  “Approaching Jeffro,” Nathaniel said, several hours later when Desmond came to sit beside him in co-pilot seat. True to his word, he had let Nathaniel pilot the Portland Wing, which was proving difficult. Nathaniel was keeping a steady grip on it, but he looked tired. He was clearly focused on his goal, which was getting them to Jeffro to see Eliza. Sienna had been sitting in the co-pilot seat, mostly silently, fascinated by the dashboard. She moved when Desmond got there, scrambling up.

  “Make sure everything is packed,” Desmond said, turning toward Sienna and speaking slowly. He mimed, and she nodded, scampering to the back. He watched her go with smile. “It's like she's never seen a ship being piloted before.”

  Nathaniel flipped a few switches as he began to activate the landing procedures. He was still waiting for clearance from Jeffro, but he didn't want to wait until the last moment.

  “By that age, she should have already taken a test flight. Her education is clearly lacking. She's not going to do well in the classes back home, Desmond. I think she's a few years behind.”

  “Well, then she will catch up,” Desmond said with a shrug. “And we will teach her.”

  Nathaniel sighed.

  “That's not the point of a Tiro,” he replied.

  “Teaching?” Desmond asked. “Teaching is not the point of a Tiro?”

  Nathaniel said nothing as he flipped a few more switches.

  “You know enough Jeffroian to communicate better than I,” Desmond told him, and Nathaniel shook his head.

  “I don't. The only words I know are when Eliza calls me names, which is not helpful. Standby,” he turned on the monitor as they approached. “Portland Wing 343 requesting permission to land.”

  “Portland Wing 343, you are not cleared to land,” came the crackle back. Nathaniel froze.

  “Sorry?” he replied. “We are requested directly by the Queen Eliza.”

  “Repeat, Portland Wing 343, you are not cleared to land.”

  Nathaniel glanced to Desmond, who raised an eyebrow.

  “Can I ask why?” Nathaniel said, after a moment.

  “Portland Wing 343, you are not on the list.”

  “But I am on the list, I made sure that…” Nathaniel looked down at the monitor, and then swallowed hard. And, to Desmond's amusement, he repeated the call-sign in Jeffroian.

  There was silence through the landing system, and then a crackle came back, also in Jeffroian. From Nathaniel's expression, Desmond saw that they were clear.

  “You don't have enough Jeffroian vocabulary, hmm?”

  Nathaniel growled at that, bringing the ship down.

  “You're not going to help me at all, are you?” he asked his former Maestro, who sat back.

  “Oh no,” Desmond replied. “This is on you.”

  “Maestro,” Sienna appeared again in the doorway. Landings in the Portland Wing were shaky, and Desmond pointed to the jump seat.

  “Sit,” he said, making it clear she needed to put on her seat belt.

  “Hungry,” she said, and he realized they hadn't been on meal duty today.

  “There are some…” He reached to the side, looking for the small storage cupboard. “Ah, dried apple slices. Typical space fair.”

  “Don't give her those!” Nathaniel blurted out so suddenly that even Desmond was startled. He froze, the pack in hand.

  “What?” Desmond asked, confused.

  Nathaniel glanced over. “Just put the packet in her hands, and watch what happens.”

  “And don't let her eat them?” Desmond raised an eyebrow.

  “Just do it,” Nathaniel replied, as he held the wheel tight. Desmond did as he was told, holding the top so that Sienna knew not to open it. She watched him, confused, but Desmond saw exactly what Nathaniel was talking about. The second her hand came on top the apple slices, her magic began to seep out, covering the package. “You see?”

  “Huh,” Desmond replied.

  “Every time she reaches for something natural – apples, a flower, a plant – that happens,” Nathaniel replied. “There's not enough research on the acridid gene to tell me why that's happening, but I've noticed it.”

  “It's attacking anything natural,” Desmond replied. “That's what's happening inside her body. So, it would make sense it attacked slightly outside.”

  “Watch out, plant-based aliens,” Nathaniel answered as they came into the landing bay.

  “I'm sorry, Sienna,” he pulled them away. “We'll get some rations once we land and get settled.”

  “Looks like we are expected,” Nathaniel said, as he watched the royal procession enter the hanger. “There's Eliza. And she does not look impressed.”

  “Probably because you brought a battle ship onto a planet that asked for peace talks,” Desmond pointed out as Nathaniel powered down. “Come on. We wouldn't want to keep the queen waiting.”

  Witches were so highly regarded in the galaxy that they were almost always met by the royals, the leaders, and the cream of the crop. It was expected that they were met with the utmost ceremony and respect.

  Nathaniel knew he should be paying attention to what Desmond and Sienna were doing, but the second he stepped down to the platform, his eyes were fixed on Eliza.

  She looked absolutely stunning, in a sweeping green dress, her piercing eyes looking right into him, even from so far away. She was surrounded by guards who were armed to the teeth as they marched forward. She had a crown woven into her golden hair, and her fingers and neck were dripping with jewels.

  Sienna gasped beside him, recognizing right away that this was the queen she had grown up hearing about. She dropped to her knees right away, and Eliza smiled as she got closer. Nathaniel had told her that Sienna was of Jeffroian origin. She had also been told how fragile the girl was, but she was shocked at her appearance. Still, through the illness, she could feel the Jeffroian features in her, buried deep under the all-consuming magic.

  “Hello,” Eliza said in her native tongue. “You must be Sienna.”

  The girl's eyes shot up. “Yes,” she spoke back, language flowing for the first time. “I am so honored to meet you.”

  “And how was your flight?” Eliza asked. “This is your first ques
t, yes?”

  “Yes,” Sienna replied. “I don't like space.”

  “Oh,” Eliza gave a little chuckle. “Well, you are here for a while. I am glad your Maestro has brought you.”

  “You know my Maestro quite well?” Sienna pressed. “Don't you? Nathaniel?”

  “I do,” Eliza answered. “Did he tell you that? That we are friends?”

  “Yes,” Sienna replied. “He said he has known you since he was a few years older than me.”

  “Yes,” Eliza replied. “That is true.” She turned to Nathaniel then, switching back into Basic. “She's smart, this one.”

  “Your highness,” he gave her a cheeky smile, “I'm glad you approve.”

  “Someone had to make you take responsibility sometime,” Eliza replied. Desmond cleared his throat. The two of them openly flirted this way, teasing each other and pretending not to get along, and most of them time, it was completely transparent.

  “Your highness,” Desmond said, “if you don't mind, we've had quite a long flight, and we are eager to get to work to assist you.”

  “Desmond, of course. Always one to get down to business.” Eliza turned to him with a smile. “I have scheduled a briefing for you as soon as you are settled. Your rooms will be in the palace so that you are close to the threats that have been placed on my life.”

  “You've been under threat?” This piqued Nathaniel's attention.

  “Of course,” Eliza answered, as if it were nothing. “That comes with the territory. Now, come with me.”

  The guards snapped to attention, clearing a path so that the three witches could walk within the protection of the guards. They didn't need it, but they would not turn down what was offered. Because witches were often so calm and collected, people often forgot that they could be a superpower in the world when they needed to be.

  “The situation has gotten worse since I contacted you,” Eliza replied. “I now have two minor planets in total rebellion. One I could handle, but two is a bit out of my control. They are fighting for what they claim are rights, but are actually complete and total control of the system. Their peace talks so far have involved coming to Jeffro and killing my civilians. I had one terrorist attack that killed seventy-six, and another that set a hospital on fire.”

  Nathaniel exchanged a glance with Desmond. That was often one of their key clues. Rebels fighting their leader could go either way, but setting fire to essential services such as hospitals meant that one side was out of control and not interested in keeping the peace.

  “They have agreed to meet me at the palace tomorrow,” Eliza said. “But I have a feeling if I don't agree to their terms, it will end in more death.”

  “And your police forces?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Are doing all that they can,” Eliza answered. “They claim that those attacks are extremists and not linked to their cause, but I highly doubt it. I need to negotiate with the certainty that no one else will die. Your presence will assure them that the Nations are on my side.”

  “My lady,” Desmond said as they walked, “we are happy to assist you. But as witches, we are a neutral force; in support of no one side. You know that.”

  “Of course,” Eliza answered, although she glanced to Nathaniel. “Still, your presence will be helpful here.”

  The hangar was connected to the palace, and Eliza led them into the hallway where the royal chambers were.

  “Each of you can be assigned here,” she said, pointing out two rooms. “Desmond, Sienna, your rooms are here. And Nathaniel,” she said, “you can take up guard duty in my outer chambers. I shall sleep better knowing magic is not far away.”

  “Of course,” Nathaniel bowed his head, avoiding Desmond's gaze. Desmond knew exactly what he was doing, and he rolled his eyes. These two were so obvious, it was ridiculous.

  “I'll leave you to get settled,” Eliza said as her guards snapped to attention. “Your briefing will be ready when you are.”

  “Your highness.” Nathaniel ducked his head as she went off, holding his gaze a moment too long. Desmond cleared his throat.

  “It's quite late already,” Desmond replied. “I'm surprised she wants to work tonight.”

  “You know Eliza,” Nathaniel answered. “She's ruthless. All night, if she has to.”

  “That is true,” Desmond answered. “A seven p.m. briefing will be fine. I'll wash up and meet you two in the briefing room.”

  “Desmond,” Nathaniel called after him as Sienna stood confused, “are you forgetting something? She needs to be shown the layout.”

  “Of course, she does,” Desmond replied. “May I also point out that it's nearly 6:30? You are on a shift for teaching layouts and anything else that may occur throughout the night.”

  “Wait…” Nathaniel suddenly put the pieces together. “You can't be serious.”

  “Why?” Desmond asked. “Did you have other plans tonight?”

  “I have to guard Eliza's chambers.”

  “I heard that,” Desmond replied. “A duty your Tiro should learn how to do, as she stays glued to your side. Isn't that how you learned from me?”

  “Desmond, not tonight,” Nathaniel cried desperately, but his former Maestro was not interested in negotiation. He vanished into his rooms, leaving Nathaniel and Sienna standing in the hallway. Nathaniel turned to her with a frustrated sigh.

  “Come with me,” he grumbled, moving so fast she had to run to catch up. This was not turning out the way he wanted at all.

  Chapter 9

  “Of course, you have to look after her,” Eliza said after the briefing when Nathaniel was able to find a quiet moment alone with her. “It's after six p.m.”

  “Then why would you tease me like that?” he cried. “You knew?”

  “Nathaniel,” Eliza leaned into him. She was almost as tall as him, and his lips were just inches from hers. “This is your duty; this is your first Tiro. We always knew that a time would come when your attention had to be elsewhere. And while I admit that I am surprised by its suddenness, I am prepared for it. The fact that she's Jeffrorian, though, makes me smile. It's almost like she is–”

  “Ours,” Nathaniel leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. It was sweeter to him because it was forbidden and stolen. He would never take this moment for granted. Eliza's slim body relaxed into his, and he circled his arms around her slim waist. Despite her years, she never became less attractive. Every time he saw her, he wanted her more. “Oh, Creator, I want to be with you.”

  “There will be time,” she assured him. “You never were one for patience.”

  “I was never one for patience because it was always now or never,” he answered. “We don't have the luxury of time on our hands. Either someone is always coming, or you are always busy.”

  “That I am,” Eliza answered. “But even with rebels attacking my planet, I can still find time. I rise early – before dawn, you know that. And dawn these days is around 6:30 a.m.”

  “Oh.” He suddenly understood. “Oh!”

  “Think you can wait the night?” she asked. “Before you drift off to sleep?”

  “If you are on the other side of the darkness, I can stand anything,” he answered, kissing her one last time. Then, he paused, trying not to intrude on her thoughts. “You aren't worried about the attacks, are you? We can take care of you and soothe any situation.”

  “I'm not worried,” she answered. “I just don't want a black mark on my rule. For generations, my family has ruled here almost flawlessly. I don't want to be the one to make a mistake.”

  “You won't,” he assured her, kissing the top of her head. “And I'm sure you are not the first to find it difficult.”

  Eliza's pride flared up. “I'm not finding it difficult,” she assured him, pulling back. “I'm fine. And I should get to bed.”

  “Eliza,” he called after her, but she was done for the night. Heading into her inner chambers, her maid closed the door behind her. Nathaniel wanted to put his head through the wall. Instead, he
gathered his composure and cleared his head, stepping out into the hallway. Desmond had at least agreed to give Sienna a palace tour so that Nathaniel could set up a security detail. Now, they were returning, and his young Tiro looked exhausted. “Took you two long enough.”

  “Nathaniel, a moment,” Desmond said, as they joined him. “Sienna, stay here.”

  “What's the matter?” Nathaniel's heart rate rose in his chest as he stepped out of the room. He was picturing a current attack on the throne room or a bomb about to detonate.

  “You are to be up all night, yes?” Desmond asked, and Nathaniel shrugged.

  “Sure. That's guard duty, isn't it?”

  “I don't think Sienna can breathe properly,” he said, and Nathaniel's jaw dropped.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “She won't open up to me, but you can watch her and see. I don't know how serious it is. It could just be the new atmosphere, or she could be ill. Be vigilant.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Nathaniel asked, in a panic. “She…I…”

  “Nathaniel, I will be right down the hall,” he replied. “And you are as trained in first aid as I am. In addition, she is your Tiro as much as mine.”

  “Desmond, you can't just leave me to deal with this,” Nathaniel cried.

  “I can,” Desmond replied. “But call me if there is a serious issue.”

  With that, he turned and left, leaving Nathaniel completely baffled. He knew that Nathaniel was strong enough to deal with these things on his own, and he also knew that Nathaniel had a loud voice, so he could shout down the hall anytime he needed. It was not an ideal situation to be in when there was a tense environment, but that was a reality they had accepted.

  Nathaniel turned back to Sienna, watching her as she settled into an armchair. She knew they were on guard duty, and she knew they were expected to stay up all night. She had read about such things in her quest textbooks, where witches sometimes guarded the royals and other persons of interest for days on end.

  Her chest was tight, and her cheeks felt tingly. She felt dizzy, and she was grateful to not be moving. It was a feeling that she used to, although she couldn't figure out what it was. That was the problem; no one knew how to tell her what to do to feel better. She often just played her cards and hoped it didn't land her in the hole.