by A. K. Koonce
The dragon taint.
Ten
From Bad to Worse
Rime and Sinister get exactly one beignet apiece by the time Chaos strolls into the forest to them. I wonder if it pained him to save those two. Neither of them knows that the box was full just fifteen minutes ago, and honestly, I don’t think they’d really care either. Chaos outweighs both of them with solid muscle. Rime and Sinister have a similar, slighter build, but neither man really get as excited about the food the way Chaos did. I’m glad he was there to distract my mother this morning.
I wasted maybe an hour there instead of out at the sweat sauna, and during that hour, Rime and Sinister have destroyed what little forest is left in this area. The naked planes of Rime’s chest are pale in the sunlight. I glance around at the empty forest as the ice shifter stands completely nude eating his breakfast. I’m not complaining, but if Brenton strolled by, this would definitely be an odd sight to see.
And now I know without a doubt they’ve been using their dragons to do all the heavy lifting. I wonder how they do it. Are they swiping the trees down with their tails? Snapping them in half with…their teeth? Either is plausible.
“We’re just finishing up here. We can come down to the steam room with you this morning.” Sinister turns his wrist and dices through a log with ease like it’s a simple tomato.
Crimson eyes meet mine, and suddenly I’m thinking about them all slick and sweaty, and really, I don’t think that should be my go-to response so I try downplay my filthy thoughts at least a little.
What is wrong with me?
“Yeah. If you want.” I shrug carelessly. More sexy images assault my mind.
Chaos gives me a slow side glance, and I realize he knows. No matter what I do, he always knows.
My arms fold across my chest, and I do my absolute best not to look at his cocky smirk.
We linger there for just a few minutes longer. Sinister finishes up slicing the wood that Rime apparently cut down for him. The ice shifter pulls on his jeans and boots but leaves his shirt lying in the mud.
And then he trails down the hillside. He’s fully ready to keep working this morning. We’re all going to be miserably hot, though, once we’re inside the enclosed room, steam drifting around and stealing our breath away. I sigh a little and now I’m no longer thinking about how sexy they’ll look. Complete exhaustion pulls at my mind the moment I think about being in that steam room.
The four of us trail at a rather slow pace down to the busy village below. When the trees give way and brightly colored brick buildings line the ocean side, I’m all but dreading the upcoming hours. At least the day will pass quickly. It’ll be an eventful and possibly even a fun work day with them there.
Unless Molly’s there.
It could be worse, I guess.
When my bare feet meet the warm, smooth cobblestones, I find out just how much worse it could be.
“Arlow.” The soft, expensive material of his jacket presses against my face when he pulls me to him for a surprise hug.
I stand with my arms held awkwardly at my side just in front of a shining navy carriage. The words Blessed Minden swoop across the back of the carriage in elegant white letters.
And I stand wrapped up in the Prince of Minden’s arms.
With King Barren staring down on us from the carriage above.
You see, it can always be worse.
Eleven
A Surprise Visit
I blink. I swallow. I blink a little more. Somewhere in my scattered mind are real words. They’re there. I promise. But fuck are they useless.
Why-the-fuck-is-the-Prince-here? Why-the-fuck-is-he-hugging-me and why-the-fuck-is-his-father-here-as-well? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
His hand lingers on my upper arm, holding me, thank the goddess, at arm’s length while Chaos stares hard at the minimal touch. Prince Linden says all these things that I try to process, but fear is crawling around my mind like I’m a host to anxiety.
What if they’re really here because of Molly?
One bat. One harmless little bat could end my life so quickly.
“Are you all right, Arlow?” The pinch of the Prince’s pale brows pull together hard as he looks from me to the three men at my side. “Where’s Kain?” The question is a different tone, a curious tone that throws me off for a moment.
Until I remember he thought Kain and I were an item.
He wasn’t wrong.
Not really.
I just have…items. A small cartload of men, but who’s counting?
“He’ll be back this evening.” Chaos takes a step closer, and the simple invasion of his body into my space has Linden dropping his hand away. Chaos is smarter than he lets on. He doesn’t touch me, but the closeness, the protectiveness in his stance, it’s screaming all kinds of insinuations.
“Where are the ships?” Barron barks from his spot tucked away in the carriage. “It was two days’ journey here. I hope you have some product to show for our exertions.”
His exertions. I arch a brow at him, but that snarky little fear inside me tells me to shut up. If the man wants to talk about ships instead of bats, let him talk about all the fucking ships he wants, and then let him drive off into the sunset far, far away from us.
“Oh, yes. The ships.” A real smile parts my lips. “We just finished the first one last night.”
Linden’s green eyes brighten, and it’s then that I’m reminded how much he looks like his mother. Her eyes are more worn, dimmer, less hopeful. But not weak. Her determination was just as vivid in her eyes as his is.
“It’s just down here.” I motion for him to follow, and he keeps a good distance between us as he trails after me.
Chaos, Rime, and Sinister keep an even closer distance to the Prince as we make our way toward the shore. The sound of the sea is gentle this morning, less roaring and more of a calming sound that makes me believe everything will be okay.
After only a few feet, I slow my gait, second-guessing where we left the massive naval ship last night. It’s hundreds of feet long. Why is this so hard to spot right now? Little sail boats and small fishing vessels line the work area at the coast. The war ship we built near the steam rooms is nowhere to be seen.
A clattering sound beats against the underside of the wooden dock. Men linger around us, and it takes me a moment to notice they’re pulling large chunks of lumber from the lapping white waves.
Brenton’s shirt is saturated, and he passes board after board to the workers behind him.
“What are you doing?” My hand shakes at my side, and I fold my arms over my chest to stop the nerves from settling in my fingertips.
Brenton hands over another curving board to the men, and they carry it up the dock to the work shed.
“Someone set off an explosion early this morning just after dawn. We’re on cleanup and trying to salvage what we can.”
“An explosion?” Rime’s gaze holds on the man kneeling at our feet, raking the ocean water for the broken remains of…my ship.
“That’s my ship.” I stare at the stained boards, doing the math as I realize we were the only ones working on a project that size.
Molly’s warning that she is not the only one whispering about me drifts sickly through my thoughts.
“Yeah, luckily the vandals only took out the one. We had to do some cleanup on the other boats, but they were mostly unharmed.” The next board he pulls out of the water is a clean slab, but fresh, dark stain mars the wood with dripping words slashed across it.
It reads Bat Bitch in smeared letters.
“Someone destroyed my ship.” Pain stings through my jaw as I clinch it tightly closed.
“I’m so sorry, Arlow.” Linden lifts his hands, but there’s absolutely nothing he can do.
I was so worried about being a target. I put effort into making sure we’d taken our time and didn’t stand out in this fucking place.
And it didn’t even matter.
When the profanity-etched board is
passed back, Rime glares down at the hateful words written across it. A cold chill slips into the salty air, and the sound of boots thundering hard over an old dock shakes through the silence.
“Fuck.” Chaos storms after his friend.
Linden prattles on and I hear his voice but not his words as I watch Chaos slam into Rime right before he opens the big steam room door. His hands push up and down the ice shifter’s forearms, and I can’t hear them, but whatever calming thing Chaos is saying to Rime isn’t changing the rage in those cold, blue eyes.
The moisture stinging my eyes pisses me off even more. I breathe out the urge to burst into tears right now over how much work was wasted and how easily I fucked up here.
In only a matter of days.
A new record for Arlow Winters.
“I’ll come back next week. It’s no rush, Arlow. Don’t cry.” The Prince’s gentle words snap me out of my sinking pity hole I was shoved into.
“No, it’s no problem. A minor setback. I’ll finish up your ships in two days.” I clench my jaw, exhaling all the reckless anger spinning around inside myself.
“Two days?” Linden’s words hang, but he doesn’t seem to find anything else to say to that.
“Yep. My friends and I are—”
“Master boat builders,” Sinister says, giving us a ridiculous title that’s lacking a whole lot of professionalism.
“We’re fast workers.” I nod and I’m already considering tossing magic-made ships into the sea right this very moment.
And that’s just what I’ll do tomorrow night before I leave a final time.
Tonight, I’m going to a haunted island.
Twelve
A Sea of Glass
Three a.m. is considered the witching hour. It’s said that a lack of prayer so late into the night creates pent-up supernatural activity.
So what better time to set sail to an eerie island?
“Isolde Island. Sounds poetic. Heartbreaking in a way.” Sinister flicks his wrist, and another perfect ship slams into the ocean right next to his first. He doesn’t look away from his creation, and with another turn of his fingers, big white sails catch against the fierce wind. He’s even made a door on the far side of the ship, a room that I can only assume is the captain’s quarters.
Suddenly, he really does look like a master boat builder.
“What’s on Isolde Island?” Rime’s gaze lingers along the dark, starry horizon. The amount of hesitant uncertainty in his tone tells me all the things he’s thinking but isn’t saying.
“There’s a mage my mother grew up with hiding on the abandoned island. I want talk to her. I want more information on Ellise.”
“Fucking Ellise again.” The ice dragon’s teeth clench, and Chaos and I are both watching the flexing anger that’s spasming in the sharp angle of the shifter’s jaw.
Chaos turns away from his brooding friend. “Isn’t there another way? Can’t you just ask Agatha?”
“I never asked Agatha about the Solstice Queen because I never realized she was the cause of outlawed mage magic. For me to ask her now, I’d have to travel back to Valencia.”
“And that’s not happening.” Rime throws one more negative comment onto his pile of negative comments.
So helpful.
“This mage is just miles away. It’d take no time at all to hunt her down on the tiny island.” My voice quivers involuntarily at the end, and it only makes Rime narrow his frosty gaze even more.
“But?”
“But what?” It’s a shrieking retort that has me rolling my eyes at myself.
“But what aren’t you saying, Tamer?”
Sinister, Chaos, and Rime all wait for my reply. And damn, do I make them wait.
“Isolde Island is said to be haunted.”
A strangled sound of disbelief fans from Rime’s lips. “It’s about to be haunted by dragons in about an hour.”
“No, really, there are tales surrounding the island. That’s why it’s abandoned.”
“What kind of tales?” Sinister searches my eyes.
“The island is said to attract water women.”
Chaos’ lips part, but he doesn’t say anything.
It’s Sinister to who finally speaks. “Like mermaids?”
“In a way, the water women are said to be similar to the lore of mermaids. They’re alternative mermaids. Cruel. Deadly.”
“Have you seen them?” Sinister seems engulfed in the tale of this mysterious island.
“I’ve never been to Isolde Island. There were always kids who would sail out and try to get as close as they could, but as far as I know, no one ever stepped foot on that land.”
A span of quiet follows my words, and nothing but the crashing waves and howling wind settles in. The manic gleam is back in Rime’s gaze. I can’t decide if it’s his mind racing or if it’s a reaction to fear, but it’s a startling sight in his pretty blue eyes.
Chaos notices the look and shifts until his chest brushes against Rime’s arm, pulling the man’s attention away from the reckless waves of the sea.
“Let’s go see if water women taste spongy like octopus or smooth like salmon,” Rime tells Chaos with a cruel smirk.
“Probably salmon.” Chaos gives a sincere nod like he’s considered this more than once in his life.
“You can’t eat them.” Insufferable little dragon taints, I swear. “You just can’t. They’re mermaids.” Kind of. Sort of.
“I won’t.” Rime’s features are vacant, but that wicked shine’s still there in his gaze. “Unless mermaids are as cruel as I’ve been told.”
He might as well have said I make no promises. That’s what he just said to me.
Great. Just great.
It’s a romantic setting. Pushing water laps against the side of the freshly built ship; the moon is big and round in the twinkling night sky. Cold wind pulls at my long dark hair, settling a chill along my skin as I hug my arms to my chest. And that little move alone makes even more romance fall across our lives. Because strong arms wrap around me from behind.
“Kain told me to tell you this is a stupid idea, Low,” Chaos whispers affectionately along my neck. His lips graze there to the exposed skin, and despite how much tingling energy his lips against my body just pressed into me, I’m shaking my head at his words.
“Tell Kain he’s welcome to slip deep inside my thoughts again if he has something to say.” I smirk a little to myself, and Chaos hums a quiet laugh against my neck as he kisses there once more.
“He says last time he looked into your head there wasn’t a single thought that wasn’t complete smut, so maybe it’s best if he does all the thinking around here.”
Oh, for the love of arrogant dragon dick.
I turn in Chaos’ arms, and his big body surrounds me with warmth and protection. He’ll always keep me safe. I know without a doubt Chaos would never allow anything bad to happen to me. And I wouldn’t have come out here if I felt in danger.
Those kids were just that, kids. I’m an adult. I’m a mage. Water women are nothing to fear.
“I hear you can’t even tell directions. That easily makes me the captain.” Sinister glares hard at Rime, and the statement alone makes the most outraged expression I’ve ever seen pull across Rime’s features.
Oh, Sinister hit a nerve with that one.
“What the fuck! I can tell directions, asshole. When I’m a dragon, sunlight affects my vision sometimes.”
The two of them continue to bicker, both standing obnoxiously close to the helm. Rime lets Sinister steer, but he keeps incredibly close as if he’ll swoop in if the sea becomes too much for the demon.
I arch a brow at said demon. We’re traveling along so smoothly. The wind whips and pulls, but the crashing waves never jostle the vessel. Because of Sinister. He doesn’t show it, but I can tell by the focused set of his fiery gaze that he’s emitting unseen magic. He’s so powerful but he never shows it. He never gives anyone a reason to fear him.
I can’t
imagine how much strength he’s using to guide us against nature itself at such a calm but quick pace. We’re not sailing. We’re practically soaring.
And only someone who’s been around boats their entire life would realize how we’re cutting unnaturally through the sea and wind rather than gliding with it.
“Is that it in the distance?” Chaos looks over my shoulder, and the discreet way he guides me closer to his chest doesn’t register in my mind.
He’s right. There it is.
The dark shadow of trees along the sea of stars quiets us all. Sinister and Rime’s taunting dwindles down, letting the sound of ripping waves fill the air. Tension builds in my chest with every second that passes, but it also eases the closer we get to that outline in the distance.
They were just stories. The water women were just fanatical tales meant to scare young children away from traveling too far.
Except for that boy who died.
If the unnerving water women are just a legend of false lore, what happened to the boy who never returned? The smooth sailing of the ship is thrown. Literally. The entire thing groans with wood scraping just before we’re all jostled abruptly forward. Chaos’ palm splays over my lower back, and he holds me against him as we fall. His forearm slams to the floor, but aside from my feet, not a single inch of my body collides with anything other than his rigid muscle tone. He presses me against him, holding me with one arm as if we’re dancing and this is just an elaborate dip in our routine.
“Sorry,” he whispers on a breath just as uneven as my own.
My body is tense against his, my nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to scratch into the skin beneath his shirt. All I can do is wonder if the water women are moments away from climbing the frame of the ship on spindly legs and devouring us whole.
What if the myths were true?
What if—
“Nice sailing, Captain.” Rime dusts his jeans off as he stands.