by Dianna Love
Was he not going to answer?
“It is a hoard,” Germanus murmured. Sending his gaze back to her, he admitted, “It was mine for the taking once the king’s defenses fell.”
She had a bad feeling that she knew exactly what he was going to say when she asked, “Where did you take it from?”
“Galway.”
“Huh?” Did he think she knew all the geographic locations in the world?
Annoyed, he said, “Has Daegan told you nothing of where he was born?”
“Uh, no, it hasn’t come up in any discussion. You stole this from him?”
“Of course not.”
She was actually glad to hear that. Otherwise, this would definitely turn into a war if Daegan showed up.
Germanus explained, “All of this belonged to King Gruffyn.”
“His father?”
“The very one.”
This man had been insane centuries ago.
He was so far beyond that now.
She’d found a thread of information and would not let go until she’d unraveled one of his secrets. “How did you manage to get away with that much treasure from a king who had a dragon? That’s hard to imagine.”
“You doubt me?” His happy little mental party turned into annoyance at her questioning his ability.
Time to stroke his ego. “Hey, I’m sitting in a realm in who-knows-what dimension with you and an army of flying beasts. I know you’re capable of what you claim, because ... hello. The evidence is staring me in the face. I just want to know how someone pulls off something this fantastical.”
Using fantastical should stroke his swollen ego, right?
He walked across the room, snagging a torch on the way.
She had no option except to follow if she wanted more answers.
He entered an alcove on the side that hadn’t been evident earlier. Probably shielded by majik. Shoving the torch in a new holder, he stood there as light filled the smaller room with an orange glow that brushed over a throne fit for a king.
Germanus had stolen the king’s throne, too?
Daegan would slaughter the enemy of today’s Belador to protect his people.
She tried to imagine how much more deadly the dragon king would be to someone who dared to possess his father’s throne, especially when the king probably hadn’t survived this incident.
To be sure, she asked, “What happened to the king?”
“What do you think happens when a king is dethroned?”
Yeah, just as she’d thought. “Was he a bad king?”
“Gruffyn was a weak king, always putting his people ahead of building a true dynasty with an army capable of raiding for more gold. In his place, I would have ruled the world. Should have, in fact.”
Settling into the enormous chair covered in gold gilding and with plush cushions of a deep red material that appeared downy soft, Germanus had the face of a content man.
Would he still have that calm expression in death?
He lifted a jeweled crown of gold from a small table at the side of the throne and placed the exquisite piece on his head.
If Daegan stood here, he’d torture Germanus before beheading him.
She’d hand the sword to her dragon king and offer pointers.
Sounded like Daegan’s father had been a good and decent ruler, which would be easy to believe after the time she’d spent with Daegan. He’d had a solid role model.
She warned Germanus, “Daegan will not let you keep all of this.”
“He’s not taking any of this from me. I’ve been here for centuries.” Leaning back with his crown half-cocked, Germanus said, “I can’t believe Queen Maeve was stupid enough to keep Daegan alive all these years. She should have killed him and saved all of us a lot of trouble.”
Poor baby. Should Evalle apologize for imposing on his life as well by having to be kidnapped?
She doubted he’d answer her question, but it was worth a try. “So Queen Maeve is behind kidnapping me?”
Germanus gave her a smile of tolerance, but no reply.
Returning to his comment about Queen Maeve keeping Daegan alive, she told Germanus, “Daegan said the queen doesn’t want him dead. She kept him all that time because she wanted to torture him by making him spend eternity in the shape of her throne.”
After saying that out loud, it made her question Queen Maeve’s involvement, since Germanus definitely wanted the dragon dead.
Germanus sat up. “A dragon throne you say? I only heard she’d captured Daegan.” That tiny piece of information brightened his day. “I like the way she thinks, but she still should not have allowed Daegan to escape.”
Evalle had played a part in Daegan’s escape, which had involved taking him out of TÅμr Medb in the form of said throne, but sharing that might put a damper on the light mood.
Thinking back over her conversation with Germanus, she pulled on her lower lip until she returned to the one question that had badgered her mind since showing up here.
Why was this happening and why now?
Could she be standing in the middle of the answer? She asked, “Are you concerned that Daegan will come for that hoard?”
“Of course he will. I’m not concerned, but anticipating it.” He looked at her as if she’d asked if breathing clean air was healthy. He bent forward, propping a hand on one knee. “Every dragon needs a hoard. Daegan will settle for nothing less than his father’s treasure.”
“Why would he even think you had this stash? Did you know his father?”
“For many years. I was his steward.”
Evalle mentally dug through historical novels she’d read. “Wasn’t a steward some kind of accountant back then?”
“Exactly. I oversaw the finances of his entire kingdom. The king was not prepared for a war or he’d still have all this treasure. Or at least, Daegan might.”
“What war?”
“The great Dragani War. Have you studied no history?” Germanus seemed genuinely disappointed in her lack of dragon-era education.
“Hey, I knew what a steward was,” she snapped. Pointing at herself, she said, “I haven’t been alive even thirty years yet. I’m just now finding out about things that happened over the past one hundred years in our world, much less something that happened two thousand years ago.”
“Your education is sorely lacking. Once you battle Daegan and he’s gone forever, I’ll ensure you have plenty of history to study.”
She walked to one side and turned to start back, using Tzader’s motion of pacing to think. Seemed to work for him, but he didn’t walk with a limp.
She missed Tzader. And Quinn.
Pushing that away, she addressed this ridiculous battle Germanus expected her to have with Daegan. “You do realize Daegan is a dragon shifter and I’m only a gryphon. You also said all I had to do was lead your creatures into battle with him, not kill him.” If Daegan did show up, she hoped he would fight back because she’d have to really battle. If she didn’t give her best attempt at fighting Daegan’s dragon, Germanus would harm someone else she loved.
Her options sucked, because she would not be the reason the Beladors lost a true leader.
Right now she should be wishing she’d been born human, but she tossed that wish right out the window. If that had happened, she would never have met Storm. She’d never regret whatever it took to have him in her life.
Her heart ached from the pain of Noirre permeating the organ, but it hurt worse from losing Kardos. She’d never be able to heal from that. She was not letting this monster kill anyone else she loved.
She only hoped the kidnapper got what he deserved somewhere down the road for doing that to an innocent person. If he ever showed his face here, she’d find a way to gut him.
If protecting all she held dear meant battling Daegan, she’d apologize and do it, but she was banking on Daegan teleporting her out.
Germanus had said it wouldn’t be possible, as though he controlled all activity in and out of the rea
lm. But if that kidnapper had managed to enter on his own, that would mean someone else could pass both ways, right?
Was his threat of her not being able to leave just a bluff to keep her from trying to escape again? She’d like to think so, but anything was possible in the world of preternaturals.
Not the most comforting thought.
Pausing in her barefooted limping, she leveled with Germanus. “Even if I wanted to kill Daegan, which I don’t, he’d burn me into a lump of charcoal before I got off even a kinetic shot ... and that’s if you allow me to use all powers.” Not to mention her bum leg that was strong enough to stand on, but not much use for anything else. She had a sick feeling the Noirre plugged into her chest would never allow those hideous scars to heal or her chest to stop hurting.
“Daegan won’t kill you,” Germanus argued.
She stuck her hands on her hips. “Not if he has a choice. I’m one of his closest advisors and I know he does not want to harm me, but he is not going to stand by and let me take him apart.”
“I never expected him to do any such thing. But I know Daegan, because he’s more disgusting than his father. Daegan is the last of the white knights and you’re a woman, which he would never raise a hand to harm. Besides, as I explained, you only have to battle him. While he’s busy trying not to harm you, my army will take care of the rest.”
This delusional jerk was living in a fantasy world.
She chuckled. “The seven critters you have left are not going to take down Daegan even if he fights them alone.”
“Don’t laugh as if I am the fool here,” he warned in a booming voice that vibrated the walls.
She was not cut out to be a spy. Undercover operators had to maintain their cover at all times and never show what they were thinking or feeling.
With her anger boiling over at everything from getting kidnapped, to not being allowed to heal, to watching Kardos die, she snarled, “I don’t get you at all. You’re safe here. You can sit here and count your money every day forever. Why bring Daegan’s wrath down on your head?”
He stood. “Safe? I’ve been stuck in this realm for centuries with nothing but my imagination to keep me company. I can’t conjure a woman or touch you. If I do, my dick will shrivel and I will be without even manual entertainment.”
So that was why he had not tried to force himself on her. She’d thought it was her repulsive image. She’d also thought he was favored by the god who put him here, but it didn’t sound that way.
Germanus must have pissed off that powerful being. With her captor on a rant, she stifled her anger and tried for an understanding tone. “What? Why would your god do that? You must be one of his followers who worshipped him.”
Staring at his shiny pile of goodies, Germanus groused, “I did worship Abandinu in spite of risking a lashing if the king had found out. Abandinu was everything to me. When I asked my god for a safe place to stash this hoard and somewhere Daegan couldn’t harm me, I thought he would put me in a castle far from King Gruffyn. But no,” Germanus scowled.
Evalle didn’t breathe. Don’t interrupt the mad man.
“Instead, Abandinu built this realm for his favorite winged beasts, then teleported me here with all my possessions. He said the day Daegan died that he would free me. Then he disappeared. The bastard.”
Part of that story had to be missing.
Evalle had nothing but disdain for gods and goddesses she’d faced in Tribunals, but she had learned they did little without a reason. Basically, they were lazy and self-serving.
What had Germanus done to be treated this way by Abandinu?
Probably hadn’t been wise of Germanus to curse a deity, but she had no qualms about watching him get smoked if his god heard that.
They’d both wronged Daegan and his father.
Tired of listening to the rant of someone who didn’t deserve any consideration, she muttered, “Sympathy is between shit and syphilis in the dictionary, Germanus.”
“Dictionary?”
“Argh. Can’t even insult you, because you’ve been isolated forever.”
Sitting back down with a glum look on his face, Germanus said, “My god abandoned me long ago. Now I find out Daegan is free and still immortal. What am I supposed to do? Just sit here for eternity with a dragon after my ass? That is not happening. I will have a new protector once I leave here. She will reward me just for killing Daegan.”
Evalle’s ears perked up. “Who?”
Germanus would not answer.
“Let me get this straight. You’re preparing for a battle with a dragon and you don’t even know the name of your new benefactor?”
Speaking through clenched teeth, he said, “I do know her name. I promised to not speak her name until she gives me permission.”
Dead end there. Evalle switched gears, acting uninterested. “Whatever. So who kidnapped me? I know it wasn’t a woman.”
“You keep asking the same questions.”
“If you’d answer them, I’d stop asking. See how that works?”
Gifting her with a smirk, he said, “How about this? I will give you the names you ask for before I leave.”
Hold everything. “You’re really leaving me here?”
“It will not be possible to take you with me.” He said that as if it was obvious. Nothing was obvious.
This might be her only chance to find out everything she could. “You made this deal with my kidnapper, right?”
Germanus frowned. “Correct.”
“He said he’d get you out of here if you kill Daegan, is that the deal? What about your pile of treasure?”
Giving her a look that questioned her IQ level, he said, “Once I have Daegan’s head on a platter, I will escape this miserable realm with my treasure and live forever.”
She only knew one way to live forever. “My kidnapper promised you immortality, too? And you trust this guy? Why?”
For just a second, doubt dimmed his confidence, but it disappeared as quickly. He sat up, placing the crown to the side and explained, “This man had the power to harvest pure Noirre when others died attempting it.”
Pure Noirre? Was that why the majik used on Evalle smelled so strong? Noirre got traded secretly among preternaturals, but Noirre majik was believed to have always come from the Medb. A pure form had Evalle again thinking Queen Maeve had to be behind this.
Germanus kept listing evidence to support his trust in the kidnapper. “When someone can enter a Celtic realm through a bolthole, shield his trail and show up with the purest form of Noirre in his hand, then deliver a Belador who shifts into a gryphon, I have a hard time arguing.”
He had her there. “Where did this guy find pure Noirre?”
“Ha! You do not know where Norrie originates, do you?” he scorned. “I am stuck in this realm and still I know more than you!”
She hated to admit it, but Germanus was correct on that point. She said, “I’ll give you that. So where did Noirre come from?”
“Dunmore Cave in Ossory,” Germanus replied, full of smug arrogance.
“Where is Ossory?”
“Listen closely and learn something,” he snapped. “The Vikings of Dublin were raiding—”
“Dublin? As in Ireland? I thought Vikings were Swedish or Nordic or something like that.”
Shaking his head in disgust, he said, “There were three groups of Vikings in Dublin, Limerick and Waterford at one time. Those in Dublin were going after the Waterford bunch when they raided Ossory. Fearing capture as slaves, the women and children hid inside Dunmore cave because it had a narrow opening they could defend. The Vikings decided to burn them out, but—”
Evalle snapped her fingers. “They asphyxiated those innocent people instead. Damn.”
Germanus narrowed his eyes at her with irritation. Or was he confused?
Did he not know what asphyxiated meant? Rather than poke back at him about having a better vocabulary, she focused on keeping him talking and said, “They suffocated, right?”
Evalle had this comical vision of skeletons creeping into a dark corner to hide. Yep, her mind was going.
Undeterred, Germanus kept explaining. “The mother of one little girl was not present when the women herded the children to the cave. That mother was captured trying to save her child. She cursed the raiders and swore she’d have vengeance.”
Evalle mentally nodded her approval over the mother getting back at those murderers any way she could.
Germanus continued, “The Vikings soon realized they had captured a witch, which was why someone probably allowed her to escape when they invaded Spain and fought the Moors. She was taken in by a man who found her almost dead. He used his powers to heal her and realized she also had powers. He convinced her to stay with him. They had seven children who inherited various abilities and gifts. My friend who kidnapped you is a descendant of that impressive power. He grew up being told of the cave that hid his ancestor’s remains and how the original Noirre plant grows from the skeletons of those killed.”
She had to close her gaping mouth. Noirre was a plant? “When did all that happen?”
“Not that long ago. I believe in early 900.”
Eleven hundred years ago was recent? Guess time was relative when you lived in this realm. She forced her sleep-deprived mind to think what was bugging her about all that. She questioned, “Who first used Noirre?”
“Queen Maeve, of course.”
She was growing tired of his you’re-an-idiot tone and argued, “But she and Cathbad the Druid went to sleep or whatever for two thousand years, then recently reincarnated.”
“I heard as much.”
That’s when she realized what didn’t fit in her mind. Waving her hands, she said, “Whoa. Hold everything. I’m no genius—”
“Quite true,” he interjected.
She sent him a scathing look and finished her thought. “Well you’re no Einstein either, because the math doesn’t work. How could Queen Maeve do anything in 900 if she supposedly went into this deep slumber a thousand years earlier?” Evalle considered everything. Maybe that slumber and reincarnation bit was all a big lie. Not that much of a stretch when considering that queen and druid.