by April Reid
Basil plummeted down as close to the ground as he could before flaring his wings wide into a fast landing.
A handful of guardsmen raced toward them. One shouted, “Save the Lady Ashlyn."
::Goodbye, Ashlyn,:: Basil said, gently settling her on her feet. ::I'll return when I can.::
Aware of the fighters rapidly growing closer, he angled his head down to her eye level. ::Will you be all right with these men?::
"Yes,” she said aloud. “I've known them for years.” She threw her arms around his neck. “I don't want to leave you, but you have to go before you're killed."
A low rumble and a sudden flaming barrier between the guardsmen and the wall punctuated her words.
"Fire magic,” she screamed. “Get away. Fly."
Turning, she ran toward the guardsmen shouting, “Don't hurt the dragon. He saved me from the bandits."
As Basil leaped into the sky, he saw one of the fighters scoop Ashlyn up in his arms and move back to the gate. The other guardsmen formed a protective ring, with weapons aimed outward.
The defensive unit marched confidently toward the magical barrier. It opened briefly to allow them passage, then closed again around the entire compound.
::Be safe,:: she mentally called.
* * * *
While Kayne, the captain of the household guard, carried her inside, Ashlyn closed her eyes and surrendered to bone-deep weariness. Since the moment she'd pulled Basil from the waves, she'd lived through more emotional highs and lows in the last five days than in all her previous years.
Ashlyn recalled her last view of him in dragon form while he'd hovered high overhead. The sight of his powerful, shimmering green body trimmed in gold had sent waves of fear through the people of the city, but not her. She'd thought of the heat, the overwhelming pleasure, and the tender care he'd given her in his human form.
Would he ever have the chance to return?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Oliver, her father's personal secretary. Behind him Nimbor, her father's tiny male pooka messenger and all around snoop, smaller than a fairy-dragon, hovered in the air.
She saw a flicker of concern in Oliver's eyes when he saw her. Then his face smoothed into his usual unemotional expression. “Lord Toscano has asked if you require the services of a healer."
"She's bleeding,” Captain Kayne said. “Of course she needs a healer."
Struggling in his arms, Ashlyn said, “Put me down. This isn't my blood. It's the dragon's. He protected me from the bandits’ arrows."
Kayne carefully settled her on her feet and gestured to her arms and legs. “You have other injuries."
While she'd pled on Basil's behalf, Ashlyn had ignored the pain. Now she became achingly aware of her welts and rope burns. “The bandits tied me to a blister tree,” she said, “but I don't need a healer. One of the household maids can help."
Oscar cleared his throat and said, with his palms together in a gesture of apology, “Lord Toscano commanded me to say if you don't need a healer, you are to present yourself to him in his office—immediately."
Ashlyn saw Captain Kayne stiffen.
To forestall any problem, she quickly said, “I will obey my father's command."
The moment she finished speaking, the ten-inches-tall, dappled green-and-brown pooka darted away like a gossipy bird.
Ashlyn hurried through the hallways to her father's office, ignoring the startled looks from members of the staff when they saw her bloody, disheveled condition.
At the tall, heavily carved door, Oscar gave a quick rap and then ushered her inside.
Once again, her mother and her father's second wife were seated on either side of him in brocade-upholstered chairs. He sat upright and stern-faced in his more elaborate carved and upholstered throne-like chair. All were placed at an angle from the honey-stone fireplace.
Two padded chairs faced the trio across a low table holding a black crystal scrying bowl, an incense burner, and candles—purple for power and yellow for divination.
Tiny Nimbor sat on one edge of the table, his feet slowly kicking back and forth in the air like a child's, while he daintily ate a roseberry the size of his head.
Ashlyn knew his appearance of child-like innocence hid his cunning nature.
Her father nodded toward the empty seat. “Sit, Ashlyn. Nimbor said you have much to tell us."
Evelina—her face twisted in disgust—added, “Try not to get any blood on the furniture."
Ashlyn's mother rose with an exclamation of dismay and crossed the short distance to sit on the chair set beside hers. “Dearling, you've been hurt. Why didn't Oscar call for a healer?"
"It's not my blood,” she said—warmed by her mother's rarely seen concern.
Galatyn Toscano snapped, “Pamper her later, wife. I have questions for the girl."
Girl. Mentally Ashlyn sighed. Her father was going to be his usual difficult self. She braced herself, determined to hide as much as she could about Basil's identity.
The high mage's first words showed her that would be easier said than done. “My scrying bowl showed you traveling with a man in the mountains. Who is he?"
"I called him Outlander. We were on the road connecting the North Coast road to the Gorm River road when the bandits took us captive.” Ashlyn told herself it wasn't a lie. She had addressed Basil as outlander when they first met.
"Did this outlander fight or escape to leave you with the bandits?"
"We both fought, but they threw a rope net over him the way fisher-folk cast nets upon the water to harvest fish. The strands were coated with stickyhold. He couldn't cut through before the gluey stuff hardened."
Her mother took her hand. “Dearling, I know it's difficult to talk about, but you can tell us. Did the bandits rape you?"
"No.” She suppressed the memories of making passionate love with Basil. “The great dragon saved me first."
To divert their attention from Basil and his shift form, Ashlyn said, “One good came out of being captured. I finally have a magical gift. I can call fire."
Her father leaned forward, studying her more closely. “How did this miracle take place? Fire Wizard Zenos tested you and found no spark of magical ability."
"I think it was there all the time and surfaced because I was terrified and in pain. They forced me to dance naked as entertainment. Their leader said to give his men a good show or he'd turn me over to a bandit named Baldo and others to rape me.” She shuddered at the memory.
Her mother said softly, “What happened next?"
Ashlyn stared at the cold fireplace where logs and kindling had been arranged for the next fire.
"They'd waited until nighttime after their meal. The outlander and I had been tied to the blister tree since we'd been captured, and he was in a quist-haze."
Her father nodded. “A standard precaution against a prisoner shifting form."
"They didn't dose me,” Ashlyn said. “Probably because the leader had recognized me and knew I was magic-blind and shifter-dumb."
Nodding in agreement, her father said, “Continue, First Daughter."
First Daughter. With that title, her father had elevated her from girl to a more important status.
She took a deep breath and continued, “The bandits had set up a ring of stones, complete with fire pits at the four major directions—a corruption of the sacred dance ring. I moved to the center in a ceremonial manner and began my ... performance."
She paused, overwhelmed by the memory of Basil's magnificent body spread and bound—helpless, threatened with torture and death, but responding to her touch.
Recalling his unique scent and the erotic taste of his shaft and balls, she shifted in her chair. Pressure and heat coiled between her legs. She sent a swift prayer to the Goddess and consort to hide her arousal.
"What happened next, Marama Ashlyn?” Nimbor's high-pitched voice pulled her back to the story. Worriedly, she tried to recall if one of the pooka's magical abilities was that of a trut
h detector. What she'd said was true, just not complete.
Hoping they believed her words and didn't ask any awkward questions, she continued, “As I said, they forced me to dance naked. It wasn't long before they shouted lewd suggestions. Many unfastened their pants to fondle their private parts."
Her mother stroked Ashlyn's hand encouragingly. “It's what men do when they're aroused, dearling."
Ashlyn heard a muffled, “Carissa, please—” from Evelina.
Her father thumped the arm of his chair. “By the great consort, I'll petition the king to send troops against those bandits.” He settled back in his chair. “Now tell us about your magical gift."
Ashlyn dipped her head to acknowledge his request. “With every step I took within the profane ring, my fear and anger grew. My hands began to tingle and then throb in pain. When the bandits surged toward the ring, I prayed to the Goddess for help. Some instinct directed me to call for fire. When I did, flames spurted from my fingertips and I set a fire, like this."
Rising to her feet, Ashlyn pointed at the wood arranged in the fireplace. Fire danced at each fingertip. “Burn!” she commanded and the stack burst into roaring flames.
A stunned silence followed her demonstration—so absolute, the pop and sizzle of the conflagration filled the office. She heard the guards outside the great carved door give sign and countersign, but no one spoke in the room.
Shakily, Ashlyn settled into the chair, hoping her gift of fire would give her enough status to convince her father she should choose her own life partner. Caution urged her to keep her ability to form globes of light a secret—held in reserve.
High Wizard Galatyn Toscano stood, in all his dignity, and paced around the low table to stand in front of Ashlyn. “First Daughter,” he said, bending to grip her chin in one hand, “I am well pleased by your late-blooming gift. This proof of your magical ability will make King Maldoc even more eager to join our house to his when he weds you in twenty-two days."
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER 6
Ashlyn and Drusilla rode sedately through the main marketplace escorted by three mounted household guardsmen—one on the left, another on the right, and the third guarding their backs. With the approach of the great ceremony of the Grass Moons, visitors had already begun flooding into the city. For many, this would be the one-time pilgrimage to the temple of the Moon Goddess and the great festival to celebrate procreation.
For the merchants, this was a time to sell off their stock and fatten their purses. Mixed among the small shops of the local sellers were temporary booths, cloth-shaded lanais, and even rugs set out to display merchandise brought by the wandering traders. The air was filled with the scents of flowers and spices and the cries of merchants hawking those and hundreds of other must-have products.
Drusilla gave her older sister an encouraging smile. “I know you're pissed off by the bodyguards, but look at it this way—we're traveling with an eye-catching escort like members of a high family."
Ashlyn gave in to Druzy's good-natured way of handling the inconvenience. “I've got news for you, little sister. We are from a high family, but you and I don't flaunt it the way some people do."
"Like our father's second wife.” Drusilla nodded in understanding. “Evelina can hardly wait to join the royal party at the Grass Moons ceremony and your wedding."
Let her bed the king. Ashlyn didn't voice the treasonous thought, but Pepper, riding on her shoulder, crooned in sympathy.
Reaching up to scratch the fairy-dragon under her pale gold muzzle, she recalled the joyful reunion four days earlier when a soldier from the Doryville garrison had ridden up to the Toscano compound with Moonstone and Foxfire.
As the soldier explained over a cup of traditional honey-sweetened herbal tea in her father's office, the horses had trotted down the main street of the town and through the open gates into the garrison.
"It was the damnedest thing I ever saw,” he'd said to her father as Ashlyn had unobtrusively lingered after bringing the tray of tea and sandwiches. “Both the mare and gelding were directed by a fairy-dragon holding the reins in its mouth. The saddlebags and packs appeared to be intact, but the blanket roll a traveler would carry was missing. The mare had a note fixed to its tack with the name Toscano and the location of your compound."
After the explanation, Ashlyn had slipped out of the office, left the tray in the kitchen, and raced to the stable yard for a happy reunion with Pepper, Moonstone, and Firefox.
A familiar voice among the shouts of the merchants brought Ashlyn's attention back to her surroundings. It sounded like Basil, but that was impossible, wasn't it?
Filled with guarded hope, she looked around.
At the same time, Druzy exclaimed, “Look. Isn't that Hawthorne on the lei seller's shoulder?"
Following her sister's nod, Ashlyn gazed at the trader dressed in the blue-and-green patterned lava-lava, purple sash, and necklace of polished kuku'i nuts marking him as an approved vendor of the Singing Islands guild. He'd added a blue-and-green closed vest—probably to disguise the scars from the blister tree, she thought with a pang for what he'd suffered. A broad-brimmed woven grass hat shadowed his face, but his resonance on the psychic plane shouted his name.
He stood and held out one arm, displaying a colorful collection of fragrant leis. “Pretty leis for lovely ladies,” he said in a well-rehearsed patter. “Buy my flowers from the Singing Islands. Let them bring enchanted days and fantasy nights."
He gently brushed the plump cream-and-pink petals of one blossom—with the same erotic tenderness he'd used in stroking Ashlyn between her legs—and everything inside her hummed wanting more.
A low, sweet sound from the blossom trembled in the air.
Beside her, Drusilla exclaimed, “They truly do make music. I thought that was just a rumor."
Basil gave Druzy an elegant bow. “Marama,” he said, elevating her status from teenager to full grown woman in that one word, “they make sweet chiming sounds only when fresh. The music dies when they fade."
Ashlyn gave him a challenging smile. “That must be why we haven't seen these magical flowers in Caledon. The Singing Islands are a three-days ride on the South Coast road. How is it you've kept them so fresh?"
He swept off his hat and held it over his heart. She saw the laughter in his eyes before he bowed his head in deference to her. “Great marama, yesterday, just past midnight, the flowers were picked and strung into leis by moonlight, then brought in be-spelled baskets by speedy catamaran."
"A remarkable enterprise,” she said in her best chatelaine-of-the-manor tone.
Tilting his head to one side, he gave her a falsely innocent look. “Surely you didn't think they'd been blown here by a green storm?"
Drusilla gave her and Basil an odd look, and Ashlyn realized she had to do something quickly to forestall questions and protect his identity.
Unhooking her purse from her belt, Ashlyn said, “Such clever merchandising should be rewarded. I will buy one for my sister and one for myself."
"An astute buyer deserves the freshest blossoms. I'll also give you a bargain; two silver dirhems.” He lifted the lid from a large woven container and selected four fragrant leis. At his touch, they chimed in warm, delicate tones.
With a glance at the bodyguards, he stepped closer to the horses and held out the leis to Ashlyn and Drusilla. “Please choose."
Druzy chose first. “I'll have the yellow-and-red one."
"My lady, a pleasure,” he said gravely, slipping it around her neck when she leaned down to receive the enchanting lei.
He turned toward Ashlyn. “My lady?"
She tipped the two coins into his hand. “You choose."
He held out a lei strung with blossoms whose pure white petals rippled through a rainbow of colors with each movement.
As Basil slipped the necklace of flowers around her neck, he murmured, “Dream of me tonight."
* * * *
After a restless night
of erotic dreams, Ashlyn rose at dawn to gather herbs still damp with dew.
Still thinking about Basil, she draped the lei of singing flowers around her throat. With each step, they chimed softly, as if serenading her.
When her basket was full, she sat quietly on a strip of lush grass in the walled garden, stroking the lei and enjoying the fragrance blended with the fresh scents of early morning.
The ancient kuku'i tree, planted by colonists from Old Earth, spread its twisted branches of light green leaves dusted with silvery powder on the west side of the garden. The morning painted light across the tree's fragrant white blossoms.
Ashlyn loved the old tree. It often set her dreaming of distant lands across the great northern ocean and even beyond the stars.
Pepper fluttered down from the tree to a sunny patch of lawn near Ashlyn's feet and began to preen, raising each blue-and-gold-trimmed wing in turn as she stroked her muzzle across the fine scales.
"Do you want a rubdown with fine sand and then a kuku'i-nut oil massage?” Ashlyn asked.
::That sounds delightful ... later.:: The dainty fairy-dragon stretched her neck and muzzle and opened her wings wide. The blue deepened in her hide. ::I'm too restless now.::
Still mentally connected to her forever friend, Ashlyn felt Pepper's edginess and a growing hunger for a male's touch, rather like her own need for Basil's caress.
A brown-and-gold male fairy-dragon dropped out the sky, flaring his wings wide at the last moment, then arrowed up, flipped over, and fluttered down to land near Pepper.
Startled, Ashlyn said, ::Isn't that Ustim's fairy-dragon?::
::We met outside the bandit's camp,:: Pepper said, giving the male a coy look over one shoulder.
Before Ashlyn could think of a good response, Hawthorne raced in hot and fast, landing between the two fairy-dragons.
He gave the usurper male a long look, then presented Pepper with a spear of freshly picked lemon mint.
Ashlyn saw the sheen of a fine liquid seeping down Hawthorne's neck scales from just under his jaw. A stray breeze brought her the scent of a pleasant spicy musk.
She glanced at the brown-and-gold male. He had the same type of sheen on his neck.