Dragon's Oath: A Paranormal & Urban Fantasy Romance (House of Quercus Book 1)

by Eve Laird

  “Not all of us are stuck to the ground,” it said.

  I closed my eyes.

  This shifter was a hawk.

  Inwardly, I wondered how quickly a hawk could help to lift a beam.

  I decided that it wouldn’t be all that easy if my imagination were correct.

  Maeve finished assigning duties to the remaining folk, as a young Fae came running into the canteen.

  “Maeve! He's awake. He's awake!” she shouted.

  An excited rumble went through the crowd.

  “Have you heard what this is about?” Asher asked me.

  I had an idea what the reaction was about.

  I nodded to him.

  Both he and Oliver moved closer.

  “I have, as do you. Constance told us last night. It's about the dragon that had been rescued from a Knight attack. He's been unconscious since he arrived here. I believe he's woken up,” I opined.

  Chapter 8

  The Human Realm, 1714

  I felt a nudge and looked to see who was touching me.

  “Sorry, but Maeve is addressing you,” an awkward looking witch mumbled, avoiding direct eye contact with me, and choosing to look at her bare feet instead.

  “Vita,” Maeve's voice said firmly.

  I glanced over to her.

  I saw that all the eyes in the room were on me.

  “This is an interesting turn of events,” she said, primly.

  “He’s asking for you,” she finished.

  The room erupted in rapid conversations, and not a few shouts.

  “Alright, everyone.” Maeve squeaked against the eruption of speculation.

  Everyone was talking at once, and it took her a moment to find a large shifter.

  She whispered something to him, and a loud roar split the air, silencing all the conversation.

  “Thank you, Eric,” she said.

  The shifter smiled at her.

  I knew what all of them were thinking:

  How could a Fallen Angel be the name on the lips of the only known Dragon in the Human Realm?

  How did we know each other?

  Weren’t Dragons ancient?

  They'd be right to question all of it, yet the most significant question was one they certainly wouldn't have known: no one here did.

  I'd been Cast Out not even two days prior.

  There was no way this Dragon could have known who I was.

  No possibility to know I would arrive here at all.

  How could this be possible at all, I wondered?

  “Quiet please.” Maeve squeaked, but they already had subdued their chatter.

  She paused, and the one or two ongoing conversations stopped at her direct command.

  “Now, you all have duties to perform, right? We will be working for many hours. Please make sure you have eaten well, or it will be a long time until lunch!” she told everyone.

  The people began to file out of the room, and Oliver and Asher looked at me suspiciously.

  “It seems you have more secrets than we already suspected,” Asher said.

  Asher's eyes searched my face openly.

  “Did you not feel it worth mentioning that you had a friend here? And, a Dragon, at that. Why would you pretend not to know of the House of Quercus?” he inquired, deeply puzzled and concerned.

  “So, were you really Cast Out hours only hours before meeting Lucian, Vita? What tale was that?” Oliver huffed.

  As we neared the door, the Fae was impatiently waiting beside Maeve.

  She held out a hand and took my elbow as I passed her.

  She indicated the Fae standing next to her.

  “Please, go with Spring, and she will take you to him. Be careful, mind, he is frail and, Fallen Angel or not, I will not have anyone causing him upset.” she said to me.

  Her look was fierce.

  “I understand. But I don't...” I began to reply.

  “Hurry, Vita.” she said dismissively.

  “The sooner you see him and find out what he wants, the sooner you can return and be of use to us all. None are carried in this place. Everyone has a role and duties to undertake.” she squeaked.

  Spring spoke to me as we walked across the clearing and towards another completed building.

  “Perhaps later, after supper, I can speak with you?” she asked.

  Hope filled her voice.

  “If I can ask a few questions about what you know of the dragon, then we might be able to help him heal more quickly.” she chattered, bouncing as she spoke.

  “How long have you known him? Is he kind? He looks kind. Well. I think he has a kind face, anyway, I do,” she babbled and was blushing at the end.

  Clearly, she'd developed an infatuation with her unconscious patient.

  I was about to respond, to explain to her that there had been some mistake.

  Surely, it wasn't me about whom he spoke?

  But the Fae just continued her rant, so I took the opportunity to observe her.

  Even in the short space of time, we'd been together, I felt protective of her.

  Spring was a scrawny female, her bones visible underneath her skin as she moved.

  Had an Angel been in such condition they would have been sent to the Fountain of Heath for treatment.

  Clearly, this Fae had troubles of her own.

  However, she seemed to want to avoid them by tending to others.

  “We're here. I'll tell him you're outside,” she gushed.

  She rushed off to another door, and a second Fae peeked out from behind it to look at me.

  She disappeared almost as fast as she had poked her head out.

  Soon, Spring bounded toward me again; her face lit up with excitement.

  “He wishes to see you now, Vita.” she exclaimed.

  I wasn't quite sure what to expect.

  Constance had mentioned his wing had been damaged.

  I wondered if he would be in his Dragon form, or would he appear as a human?

  I was soon to find out.

  Many shifters believed they were descended from Dragons, particularly the Dragon shifters.

  It seemed logical, on the face of it.

  Yet, the history lessons I had been taught during my service with the Angelic Guard stated this was not true.

  The Ancient Scrolls were at odds with this assumed fact.

  According to them, a Dragon can only take on the form of a human.

  The Dragon is their true essence, and could never be denied.

  Whatever form the Dragon assumed, its nature could not be ignored.

  And, that seemed to be the case this time as well.

  As I neared the door, the scent was the first thing to hit me.

  His scent.

  It was intoxicating!

  Things happened to me that I couldn’t immediately explain.

  The scent was not only intense. It was familiar!

  I could see how easily Spring would have developed an infatuation for her patient from the strong sensations it imparted to my own mind.

  I tried to give it words, but my brain couldn't find any.

  I was spiraling out of control, trying to remember why I recognized the intensely attractive fragrance.

  Then, I spied him, on a bed, at the far corner of the room.

  He was mostly in human form.

  He was prostrate on the bed, near a wall.

  His wing, a huge plane of membrane, spanned the area from the bed to the opposite wall.

  A set of ropes and pulleys supported his damaged wing.

  They were attached to strong beams in the roof and were carefully secured around his wing in various places with bandages that helped balance the immense weight, stretching the wing taut, and straightening it.

  I tried not to grimace.

  The dull, leathery red skin on the inside of his wing was covered with scars and tears in several places.

  I'd spied a broken bone, and involuntarily let out a hiss.

  That would undoubtedly hur
t.

  Perhaps this Dragon would never again take to the sky…

  I could see his other wing beneath the layers of sheets covering the bed.

  From the angle, I knew he was using it to shield his body.

  Most of it still splayed across the floor.

  Iridescent scales of every hue of red and amber covered the back side of his wing, making it look like as if it were ablaze.

  I was in awe of its beauty, and the contrast between it and the wounded wing was staggering.

  I hadn't even looked at his face yet.

  After a few moments of me standing there, he spoke.

  “That's a grave assessment you've made of my damaged wing. You should have seen it when I first arrived,” he chuckled, weakly.

  I didn’t think I had said anything?

  His eyes met mine, and behind a stubbled face, he gave me a wry smile.

  “I thought for a moment you wouldn't come,” he confessed.

  He gave me a sad look, then grinned.

  “I. Uh. Well…” I stammered.

  I didn't know what to say.

  I didn't know him.

  Did I?

  “Spring,” he said.

  The little, thin Fae looked at him with hope-filled eyes.

  “Thank you for bringing Vita, you can go now,” he whispered.

  Her shoulders slumped, but she gave him a weak smile.

  She shot a stern look at me, a warning.

  Was that jealousy, I was sensing from her?

  Then, she gathered herself and disappeared out the door, closing it quietly behind her.

  Now, why would she do that?

  Chapter 9

  The Human Realm, 1714

  “Vita, please, sit down,” said the Dragon-in-human-form.

  I didn't recognize him, physically, at all.

  But, his scent!

  It was maddening.

  He spoke to me with the familiarity of an old friend.

  I dragged a stool over to the foot of his bed and sat down.

  “I'm afraid I have no idea why you would want to see me,” I said, finally finding some words.

  I didn't mean to sound harsh, but I'm sure it came out that way.

  “That's understandable, for an Angel, I suppose,” he replied.

  He paused.

  “I forget that you've only recently Fallen, and so much has happened that you won't understand,” he said.

  Well, that only served to confuse me even more.

  He chuckled.

  “I'll start at the beginning. You always were a stickler for knowing the facts,” he said.

  Then, he rolled his eyes.

  I tried to hide the frown that I felt on my face.

  “Time is a very different thing for Dragons than it is for Angels, you know. Even Fallen Angels,” he said, frowning.

  “Go on,” I replied, trying to remain impassive.

  I’d heard tales as a youth about Dragons being able to time-shift.

  But I refused to sound foolish in front of this stranger, and ask about it outright.

  I'd learned during my Angelic Guard training that Dragons had been extinct for many years.

  That hard fact was obviously wrong, and the evidence was staring me in the face, with bright eyes.

  Right now, I didn’t know what to believe, or what to say.

  Finding out that there was at least one living Dragon within the Human Realm was utterly unexpected.

  Never mind the fact that this Dragon asked to speak with me, by name.

  “You don't believe me,” he said.

  I shrugged.

  “I'm listening. Although I'll admit, I'm very curious how you came to know my name.

  Did you overhear Spring or some of the other healers?” I asked him.

  He laughed, heartily.

  “Heavens, no.” he spat.

  The sound was gruff, gravelly and almost guttural.

  “I came back specifically to find you, Vita,” he told me.

  I sat there, stunned.

  “Me? Why?” I stammered.

  I bit my tongue.

  Damn it!

  The words slipped out before I could stop them.

  I felt a rush of excitement at the prospect, but regardless, I stood up again, getting ready to leave.

  “Of course, you did,” I said, and the sarcasm dripped from my voice.

  I could see that, whoever this man was, he was trying to make a fool of me.

  “Vita, please sit down.” he ordered.

  I hesitated, the command in his voice appealing to my nature for some odd reason.

  I walked back and sat on the stool.

  He took a breath and then continued.

  “Vita, you arrived late into the night or very early in the morning, whichever way you'd like to call it,” he began.

  He could have heard that from anyone.

  I stared at him, so he continued talking.

  “You arrived with two other Fallen Angels, and a Vampire, Lucian. You only met Lucian two nights ago. You met the two Fallen last night before they saved you from the attack,” he said.

  That was a fair amount of detail, but he could have overheard that from anyone.

  When I went to the female's barracks to sleep, I'd no idea who Lucian, Oliver or Asher may have spoken to, or who might have overheard them, or what they had said.

  So, nothing here seemed surprising to me.

  I yawned, in spite of myself.

  His amber eyes bore into mine.

  “Fine. I see that none of that is convincing. Although, it certainly would have been enough to establish my veracity for others. My dearest Vita, always seeking complete certainty,” he said, shaking his head.

  He looked at the ceiling.

  “Let me see, something that I could tell you that would prove to you that I am what I say,” he mused.

  Absently, he stroked his chin, and the sound of his fingers scratching against his stubble filled the room.

  “Of course!” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers, before pointing at me.

  “I've got it.” he smiled.

  His amber eyes flashed with bright gold and fiery red tones.

  It was fascinating.

  “Have you spoken to anyone about what happened before you were Cast Out?” he asked.

  I blinked, trying not to become hypnotized by those mesmerizing eyes.

  Inwardly, I shook myself.

  Had I heard correctly what he’d just said?

  I was taken back.

  That was a private matter.

  It was not something I'd intended to speak about.

  With anyone.

  Ever.

  “Of course, not,” I said, my voice dripping with disgust.

  “Good.” he replied.

  “How is that good?” I asked, incredulous.

  He smiled triumphantly.

  “It's good because it means the only way I could have found it out, and already know, by the way, would be by you telling me yourself,” he said, with finality.

  “Huh?” I asked.

  I was bewildered by this new direction in our conversation.

  He looked amused.

  “If I know how you came to be Cast Out, surely that would prove to you that I am telling the truth?” he asked.

  “I don't know,” I replied, seriously doubting whatever story he was going to concoct would serve to be convincing enough.

  He paused, thinking hard for a moment.

  “Hmmm. And, if I know what I know, then that means at some point, in the future, you must trust me enough to tell me the story.” he said.

  He smiled again, in recollection of something, and then he looked at me.

  Suddenly, my mouth went dry, as a distant echo of a faraway memory screamed in my head.

  I could sense it, right at the edge of my conscious, wanting to come rushing in, but I feared it was so large and important, and dreadful, that I fought back against it.

  I focused on what he
was telling me, instead.

  I wasn't planning on telling anyone the story.

  Being Cast Out, regardless of how it occurred, was not something I wanted to discuss.

  “Well?” he pushed.

  “Well, what?” I snapped.

  “If I can tell you how you were Cast Out? Would you then believe me?” he said.

  He already knew my answer, damn him.

  He had trapped me.

  “Yes,” I said, tonelessly.

  This man was exasperating!

  His smile broadened.

  “Vita, you were Cast Out,” and he paused.

  He concentrated, as if sifting through bags of ore for precious gems, and then he counted to himself, nodding.

  “The night before last night, you found yourself in a stable with a horse,” he said, with certainty.

  “Uh huh,” I said, unenthused.

  None of this was news.

  I'd told it to Lucian, Asher, and Oliver last evening.

  “Details,” I ordered, beginning to be bored by this.

  Dragon or not, I had work to do, and this was keeping me from it.

  He mumbled.

  “Does the name Breena mean anything to you?” he raised his eyebrows.

  I shrugged.

  “No, no, don't speak. I'll continue,” he said.

  Then, he let out a large sigh, as if he'd heard the story a hundred times before.

  “There it is, of course.” he said.

  “Breena framed you, pretending that she had been attacked by you when what really happened was that she and three of her friends ambushed you,” he said evenly.

  The ground seemed to wobble a little beneath my feet, but he kept talking.

  “If you ask me, she was jealous of your talents. Anyway, since your Commander had dismissed Breena's charade, Breena went on a little visit to the Senator. And the rest, as they'll say, is history,” he concluded.

  I stared at him, open-mouthed.

  “How?” I gaped.

  “Vita, you know how,” he chided.

  “You've told me this. Well, you had told it to me in the future, anyway,” he said as he scratched his chin again.

  “By the way, you still need to work on your talents - and just wait ‘til you discover your other talents.” he laughed.

  Then, he got a strange look on his face, remembering something.

  I blushed at him, not really knowing why.