Dragongrove_Becoming the Dragon Queen

by Imogen Sera

  East, seethed the woman in his mind, and then his useless puppeted body propelled him that direction. He saw Ingrid then, sprinting directly away from him, barefoot with her long hair flying behind her.

  Run, he wished silently, run, please run, someone save her, as he descended on her.

  She glanced over her shoulder and terror transformed her face at his proximity. She stopped suddenly and whirled around toward him.

  He pulled on the mental strings, pulled as hard as he could, pulled with the desperation and intensity of his love for Ingrid.

  “Please love, it’s me,” she begged, her arms stretched toward him. “I love you, please Helias, don’t do—”

  And then she was engulfed in flames.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  He felt nothing but rage. Blind, seething rage as he whirled around in the sky, the puppet strings finally broken. Too late. His roar echoed across the sky and from her place battling Morwich he could see Glen glance at him, surprise on her face.

  He propelled himself toward her, hoping Morwich would have the foresight to get out of the way. It didn’t matter to him, though, any amount of casualties was acceptable in order to make the bitch pay.

  Morwich leapt to the side as Helias reared back and breathed massive, devastating waves of flames directly onto Glen. When he finished she was still standing, and so he did it again, and when she still stood, he roared his displeasure at Morwich who was just watching, not helping.

  The next time he unleashed his flames, OBEY pounded through his head, which only strengthened his resolve. Morwich had joined him, and together they managed to break through her shields. She was burned badly but alive, and in frustration Helias bit at her as Morwich dueled her, and then blood spattered against his face, and she was dead.

  He shifted immediately and stared down at the awful woman, furious that she was dead, wanting to kill her over and over. He didn’t think of Ingrid, he couldn’t, he knew he would break if his mind even wandered close to that. Tarquin would need to be healed, and they would need to look after the sleeping guards, and Morwich would—

  He fell to his knees suddenly. Ingrid was dead. He had killed her. Despair seemed to rise from the ground and threatened to drag him under. He wished that it would.

  He was surprised to feel a hand on his arm and looked up at the old mage.

  “I know how you’re feeling,” Morwich grumbled, “don’t give in to it.”

  Helias stared at him, unblinking.

  “Your brother needs you.”

  His vision swam in front of his eyes.

  .....

  Ingrid’s hands were ruined. Her face and chest were burned also, her skin pink and blistered, her dress in tatters, but she couldn’t stop staring at her palms. The flesh was blackened, where it still remained, and under it she could see tissue and muscle and bone. She tried to move her fingers but it was agonizing, they seemed to be locked with her fingers curled in a claw-like shape. They were foreign to her, not the palms she’d had her whole life, with their familiar lines and form.

  She sat on her bottom in the charred grass while she looked down at her bare feet. Her toes wiggled. Her spirits lifted as she watched them, and a moment later she was grinning, then laughing. She’d blocked dragonfire. Not expertly, not even particularly well, but well enough to live. Her heart swelled at the thought, and she looked up to gaze across the field where Helias and Morwich were standing over the Glenaria’s body.

  Her mate was in human form, and she couldn’t place his expression as he looked down at the dead woman. Rage, she realized, but there was something else too. Grief. It wasn’t a face she’d ever seen him make; it didn’t suit him. Morwich’s mouth was moving rapidly, and Ingrid thought he might be casting a spell, but then he put his hand on Helias’s arm and realized he was talking to him.

  She glanced around to where Tarquin was sitting, clearly injured, blood soaking a cloth that was being held to his shoulder blade. The sleeping guards were beginning to rouse; the ones who’d remained awake were tending to Tarquin and watching their king carefully.

  No one noticed her there, until she stood and ran for her mate.

  “Helias!” she found herself yelling.

  He jerked his head up and looked toward her. Astonishment covered his face, and then relief. The hard line of his mouth turned upwards before falling again. There was panic in his eyes suddenly.

  “Stay away!” he shouted, and then toward the guards, “Keep her away from me!”

  She froze in place, her eyes wide. He stared at her, panicked, and then turned to Morwich and started talking quickly. Ingrid watched as he knelt his head and the old man touched his temples, his brow furrowed. The mage nodded at him, and Helias’s face lit up as he turned and grinned at Ingrid.

  A moment later he was in front of her, on his knees, his big arms crushing her midsection and his head pressed against her chest. The hole in her chest began to knit itself back together.

  “Oh Ingrid,” he murmured, his voice wavering. “Oh, my love.”

  She could feel his shaky breathing reverberating through her body, and she embraced him awkwardly, without the use of her hands.

  He noticed her odd movements and turned to see her hand. His eyes widened, a horrified expression on his face, as he cradled the back of it gently in his palm.

  “I’m so sorry,” he breathed, taking in the grisly sight.

  Ingrid smiled despite herself. “They’re just hands,” she said, then kissed the top of his head where she could reach. “We’re both safe, we’re both alright.”

  He looked up at her and nodded. “May I heal them?”

  She held both palms out to him, and he cradled them in his own. He knelt his head, reverently, and breathed gently over them. She felt nothing at first, but after a long minute she could feel his breath, cool and gentle, sweeping over them. He began to whisper something then, directly into them, a language she didn’t understand but one which spoke to her soul.

  She watched his face as he worked, his long lashes sweeping over his cheeks, his strong jaw moving slightly as he spoke, his golden hair falling across his forehead. How many times had she wished for him, prayed for him, scarcely dared to dream that he would ever again be with her? And here he was, in all of his glory. His gentle touch, his restrained nature, his passionate care; they all made him up into her perfect mate. Tears sprang to her eyes, unbidden, and when she shook slightly he looked up to meet her gaze, and continued in his strange language as they watched each other. He stopped after a time. She looked down at her hands in surprise, they were pink and angry looking, covered in new skin. She straightened her fingers experimentally and found that there was no pain.

  “They’ll be scarred, I’m sorry,” he said, rising from his knees.

  Ingrid continued to stare at them in wonder, opening and closing them. She looked up at him and smiled widely. “I couldn’t possibly care less.”

  Then he lifted her to him, his hands under her bottom, and kissed her like she was the only thing in the world that he’d ever needed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “You Knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Ingrid asked. “That’s why you insisted that I needed to know how to shield.”

  Morwich just smiled sadly.

  “Thank you regardless,” she said, as she embraced the old mage. “I can never repay you.”

  He shrugged. “Well if you insist on living with these proud, dangerous morons, you should be able to defend yourself.”

  Ingrid bit her lip thoughtfully. “Why are you here?” she asked, finally indulging her curiosity. “You seem to hate everyone.”

  “My mate,” he said simply.

  Ingrid’s eyes widened. “You have a mate? A dragon?”

  “Had,” he said gruffly, and she regretted asking him in the first place. “She died a long time ago, but she loved these idiots and asked me to stay and look after things.”

  “How did she die?”

  Morwich sighed, hi
s thoughts far away. “When our daughter was born. I didn’t know any healing back then.”

  “You have a daughter?” Ingrid asked quietly.

  “Had,” he said again, turning to look at where Glenaria’s shredded body lay. “She hates me- hated me. This is my doing, I suppose. She never knew her mother and she never knew a father’s love. I took her as my pupil, but I never acknowledged her as my daughter. It’s been so long I can’t remember my reasons, but I remember that I justified it to myself. I was mad with grief. I still am, and my mate’s been dead for four centuries-” Ingrid’s eyes widened in surprise, “-but I swore I would look after the royal family for her. So here I remain, captive to a dead woman’s wishes, unable to make a new life for myself or be allowed to descend into my grief.”

  “Oh,” Ingrid breathed. “Oh Morwich, I—” She reached to touch his arm but he shrugged off her touch. She looked after him sadly as he hobbled away.

  She turned to Helias who was seated a few feet away, his attention locked on his injured brother. Tarquin was seated, hunched over at an odd angle, his back severely injured. The bleeding had ceased, at least, and Helias seemed sure that he would recover with time.

  “Home?” she murmured quietly to him, and he pulled her against him, afraid to let her go.

  “Home,” he confirmed.

  .....

  Ingrid fell into bed, giggling, as Helias climbed over her.

  The journey home had been exhausting, Ingrid had spent most of it asleep on the back of her dragon. When she awoke and had felt a slickness between her thighs she’d whispered into his scales every filthy thing she’d wanted to do with him while she’d been missing him, and when they finally arrived home he’d ignored everyone and tugged her with him to the bedroom.

  He peeled her scorched dress from her, slowly, taking care with her pink, newly healed skin. He blew cool breath over it and trailed gentle kisses there, across her chest, soaking her in. She closed her eyes. Her tender hands locked in his hair, her breathing was unsteady with emotion. His lips gave way to his tongue, and Ingrid exhaled a breathy gasp as he licked his way across her breasts, pausing at her nipple, swirling deliciously there. She clutched at his shoulders, treasuring his solid body over her.

  He moved low between her legs and her hands tangled in his hair as he licked and sucked at her. Fire grew low in her belly as her legs tensed. Her hips began to move on their own, pressing her heated flesh more insistently against his mouth. Helias was all she could feel, all she could taste, all she could smell; he was here with her and so real, and the realization made her heart feel like bursting. She pulled him up over her and he covered her again as she kissed him, slowly, tenderly.

  “I need you inside me,” she breathed. “Please.”

  He pushed into her in one long, hard thrust, and all she could do was cling to his shoulders as he filled her and pumped into her, fast and intense. She was desperate for him, mad for him, terrified to lose him again. He fucked her hard and they both finished quickly, but they stayed locked together for a long time after. Ingrid was tucked under him, savoring his weight and his presence.

  “Ing,” he murmured and pressed his forehead to hers. “I thought I lost you.” He shut his eyes and rested his face in her neck, breathing her in.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and stroked the back of his neck. “I’m here,” she whispered, “I’m always here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Caelian was awake by the time they returned home. All of the Renaud household had been moved as well, to be watched over, and the palace was a much more crowded place than when Helias had left. Helias smiled at his mate as she spoke with the physician, then turned her attention to the palace steward to procure room arrangements for their guests. She’d taken to her role well, as he’d been confident she would.

  They’d finally convinced each other to return to their duties after several hours of clinging to each other, sweaty and exhausted, afraid to let go.

  They ate dinner with Helias’s brothers, Julian, and Lord Renaud. Caelian was quiet and serious, and announced that he’d be leaving in the morning. Helias didn’t have to ask where he’d be going, because he wore the same expression he had while his mate had been suffering from the plague. Of course he would go to her. Helias apologized and thanked Tarquin repeatedly until he was told to shut up, while Ingrid talked seriously with Lord Renaud about some obscure form of bookkeeping that they both favored. He watched her as she chatted easily; she was poised and radiant and every inch a queen. He still couldn’t believe his luck.

  Ingrid reached for his hand between their seats. He clasped it and brushed his fingers over the new skin on her palm. He smiled to himself as she squirmed slightly but tried to hide it; the uncalloused skin was ticklish. He did it again and she turned to him, her eyebrows raised and a small smile on her lips.

  The evening was pleasant but busy, as everyone was catching up with everyone else on all that had happened. He waited impatiently through it, eager for bed, eager to hold Ingrid to him as she slept. It did come eventually and they fell together with hungry kisses, hurried touches, quick fingers. When he entered her, though, they slowed to a leisurely pace; long, slow strokes, gazes locked, hands tangled in hair, deep shaky breaths. They stayed like that afterward, silent, bathed in each other’s presence.

  “I missed you,” Ingrid whispered, her chin trembling.

  “Oh, Ing,” he said, and held her closer. “I wasn’t whole without you.” She wept her sorrow of the last month into him as he stroked her back, and before her tears were dry she was asleep.

  .....

  Ingrid and Helias had each roused many times through the night, reaching desperately for each other, and only relaxing enough to sleep again when they were wound tightly together.

  They spent all morning in bed, skipping breakfast, coming together repeatedly, learning each other all over again. Ingrid’s smile seemed to be permanently on her face, her cheeks hurt from the effort.

  “I love you,” she murmured, kissing slowly from his wrist to his fingertips. “I love you, I love you.”

  A loud knock on the door startled them both, and Ingrid jumped out of bed, pulling on a gown quickly. She crossed the room as Helias dressed, and opened it to the sight of an old, cranky mage.

  “Yes?” she asked, her arms folded.

  “You missed your lesson,” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Are we still doing lessons? I thought you were only training me so that we could bring the king home.”

  “You think you’re accomplished enough to survive this court?” the old man asked. “You shortsighted ingrate.”

  Ingrid heard Helias make a sound over her shoulder, so she turned to flash a smile at him, then returned her attention to Morwich. “Excellent point. I forgot to inform you in the confusion yesterday that I’m taking a few days off.”

  Morwich’s mouth curved into a real smile, and Ingrid beamed at the sight.

  “I’ll see you soon, old man,” she said, and shut the door on him.

  Ingrid turned to Helias who was fully clothed and seated on the bed. She crossed the room to him and tucked herself against him, where she belonged. Her chest was full again, her bones no longer ached.

  “I think Morwich wants me to take over for him,” she said, looking up at him. “He’s only still here to keep a promise to his mate, and he’s so unhappy.”

  “How do you feel about that?” Helias asked, his voice reverberating through his chest against her ear.

  “I think it would take a very long time for me to learn everything he has to teach, but I look forward to it.”

  He put his hand under her chin and turned her face gently to look up at him. “My little Mage Queen.”

  “Not yet,” Ingrid laughed and pulled away from him, rising to her feet. “I’ve finally got this palace in order, and you’re home just in time to make a mess of it,” she said, grinning impishly at him. “Shall I give you a tour?”

  He f
ollowed after his queen, enchanted by her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  A NOTE FROM IMOGEN:

  I hope you enjoyed book two! I’m loving writing this series and I’m very pleased with how this ended, I’ve got about a million ideas for the future. There is more Ingrid and Helias to come, but for now I’m going to pause their story temporarily while we catch up on some of his brothers. Caelian will be featured in the next book, and Tarquin after that. I’ve got outlines finished and I’m really excited to write about them. If there’s someone you’d like to see featured I would love to hear about it! I have social media links below, or you can email me at imogensera@gmail.com