“It’s a branch, Raven, not the neighbor boy. I don’t think asking is going to be enough.” Avery frowned.
“Think of it like your sword,” Clarissa said. “It’s a tool. With the right intention, you can make it work.”
Avery adjusted the wand in her hand, her knuckles turning white from her grip. “Okay. I’m ready to give it a try. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Raven glanced down at the scroll. “I do. I can see it now, like a bow that just needs to be untied. As we did before. Avery, drain the encryption spell. Clarissa, strengthen Avery. I’ll take the magic apart and then translate what’s underneath.”
Clarissa grinned. “I can’t wait to see what’s on the other side of that spell.”
“On the count of three. One… Two… Three.”
Avery grabbed the corner of the scroll. The strange moving text disappeared, replaced by ancient Elvish. Clarissa’s voice rang out, supporting Avery. And Raven uttered a spell that came to her straight from the wand, as if the tree itself were whispering in her ear. With another incantation, Raven watched the symbols jumble and then right themselves in her language. She crossed her arms and made the motion of tying a knot.
It worked! The letters glowed brighter and then settled into the scroll, the locking spell successfully holding the words in place.
Avery let go.
Clarissa stopped singing. “Fucking hell, it worked! Finally.” She tried to bend her neck to get a better view, but Raven was in the best position at the table. “Read it to us, Raven.”
“With the help of Daluk of Niven, I, Medea Tanglewood, witch queen of Darnuith, bequeath my golden grimoire to the three foretold to free Ouros from the tyrannical rule of Eleanor of Paragon. I don’t know your names or from where you will come, but my sisters and I have seen you in our visions. Now, as we prepare to leave this world, we put our faith in you.
“My dearest love, Tavyss, is dead, as is our son, Phineas. We know now that we must leave this place. A traitor lurks within the court of Darnuith, and now that Tavyss is dead, I am mortal and Eleanor is not. We have seen the future, and you are Ouros’s only hope.
“Daluk has helped me seal the grimoire inside my heart’s tomb. It had to be done. Only its inherent magic could keep my protective spell active past my death. The tomb is hidden, but it will be easy for you to find as its shape is in the form of my beloved and it guards the gate of a garden that reminds me of the one where we first met. I’ve placed it in Rogos where Eleanor’s prying hand cannot reach.
“Now my vengeance is in your hands. Our visions have shown us the way, and I pray you will be brave enough to follow it. We’ve seen a child, a descendant. The beginning and the end. Only this child holds the magic to both make and undo what is to come.
“Eleanor grows stronger by the minute. Beware, her supporters hide like vipers, waiting and watching from the tall grass. You must call upon the goddess of the mountain and ask her to intercede on your behalf. Everything you need resides within the grimoire. Use it.
“Know that my sisters and I cannot guarantee your success. The future we see is constantly shifting. We know not in what year you will come or the circumstances of your arrival. All we can promise you is that wherever it is we go after we pass from this existence, we will be watching, waiting to aid you in any way we can. The only word I leave you with is goodbye. Goddess be with you.”
Raven looked up from the parchment. From her carrier strapped to Gabriel’s chest, Charlie clapped her hands, grinning.
“She likes to hear you read,” Gabriel mumbled.
Nathaniel rubbed Clarissa’s shoulders. “Did that make sense to anyone? A tomb in the shape of her beloved… Is that Tavyss? In what form? Or the baby?”
Xavier raised a finger. “’Tis in front of a garden, it said. Can only be so many of them, eh?”
Leena shook her head. “Rogos has many gardens, and if there is a tomb shaped like a dragon or a man or a child, I have never heard of it. It’s not traditional.”
“Not just a garden,” Colin added. “Fruit trees. Our family crest is a dragon wrapped around a golden fruit tree. Sylas learned it represented Tavyss in the Garden of the Hesperides. That’s where he met Medea.”
Nathaniel took a fortifying drag on his pipe. “What type of trees do you have in Rogos that bear hanging fruit?”
Leena walked to the altar and scribbled something on a piece of parchment. A scroll manifested before her. “A map of Rogos. Let’s take a look.” She unrolled it on the table. “There’s a Ramblefig orchard here. That’s an oblong purple fruit we use in pastries. It’s on the border of Darnuith. She might have put it there.”
Xavier shook his head. “I’d not hide something so important so close to the road as it is.”
Colin nodded. “I’d have to agree with my brother. Not only is it close to a border and the road, she mentions a traitor from Darnuith. Wouldn’t she want to have it farther inland?”
“What about that one?” Gabriel pointed at an orchard on the edge of the Mystic Wood. Charlie reached toward the map, her chubby hand opening and closing.
“That’s sandberry fruit—the Dune Orchard. That could very well be what we’re looking for. It borders the desert and is owned by the desert dwellers. It will be hard for me to gain access. Even harder for a non-elf. The desert dwellers do not like company.”
Colin scanned the map again. “The only other ones appear to be around Asfolk Palace.”
“Asfolk is the capital and a hub of commerce. Having a variety of fruit grow there benefits the palace, and it’s also centrally located to ship across Rogos.”
“An odd place for a crypt,” Nathaniel said.
Raven wished Medea had been more specific about the location of the tomb, but everything the witch had done thus far was to keep the grimoire out of the hands of Eleanor. She couldn’t make it too easy. And the hardest place to reach on this map was the Dune Orchard. “Let’s search there.” She pointed to it on the map. “We have to start somewhere. We can leave in the morning.”
Leena shook her head. “Why not look now?” Everyone flashed her a confused look. “We don’t actually have to go there to know if it’s the place. I can look from here.” She strode behind the white marble platform and through a door at the back of the library.
Raven followed into a room with a sanded wood floor and a line of hollowed-out stone bowls filled with liquid. Each was next to a desk with shelves of blank scrolls and a quill.
“Stand back—the tears will burn you.” Leena positioned herself at one of the desks.
The scribe sat down and passed her hand over the pool beside her. Raven gasped as the tears started to swirl with color and light, images flashing within the bowl’s depths. This wasn’t familiar magic. This was something else, a type of power unique to the scribes.
“Show me Dune Orchard,” Leena commanded.
The waters settled. Raven made out a garden but couldn’t see more from her angle. Leena’s eyes actively scanned the surface.
Clarissa cracked her neck. “Google Earth in a bowl.”
Gabriel, Nathaniel, and Avery chuckled. Colin and Xavier stared at her blankly.
“I don’t see a gate or a tomb,” Leena said. “I don’t think this is it. There’s no place that fits the description.”
Everyone groaned.
“Try the one next to Darnuith,” Gabriel suggested.
She circled her hand again. “There is a cemetery next to this one and there is a gate, but I’m not seeing a dragon. Also, these graves aren’t old enough to be what we’re looking for. The style is consistent with the past fifty years.”
“Sylas found the golden orb in the floor of the Obsidian Palace,” Colin said, placing a scarred hand on Leena’s shoulder. “I think Medea was a clever woman who would enjoy hiding something in plain sight.”
Leena stared ahead, eyes unfocused, memories passing through her expression like ghosts. She glanced back at Colin and then circled her hand over the p
ool once more. This time, she said something in her native tongue, and when the picture formed in the bowl, she gasped.
“What is it?” Raven asked.
“Asfolk Orchard. It’s a few miles outside the city. I only remembered it because of the dragon statue… I read somewhere it was a gift from Paragon.”
Raven tried to look in the pool, but she couldn’t see what Leena saw.
“There are no graves near this orchard, but the fruit is gold and round. And the dragon sculpture is right outside the gate.” Leena lifted her chin and stared at Raven. “It’s not a grave, but it has to be it. It’s exactly what she described.”
Raven exchanged glances with Colin. The dragon nodded and said, “We go first thing tomorrow. I’ll send a falcon to Asfolk. With any luck, Rogos and Darnuith will see reason and wait until we have the book to attack.”
Chapter Twenty
Colin closed himself into his chambers in the west wing, looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Spending time with Leena that day had been exhausting. When he’d first found her in the library, his dragon had locked on to her mating scent, the same one she’d put off in the tent. He’d hunted her down like a predator and found her at a table in the back of the library. But if the hot blush that had stained her cheeks was any indication that she’d been thinking about him, she’d made it very clear she did not intend to act on those feelings.
After their initial interaction, she’d been all business for the rest of the day. She was attracted to him. He knew she was. It didn’t matter, though. She’d made up her mind, chosen the life of a scribe, nothing more.
He couldn’t blame her. What did he have to offer her, actually? The youngest son of a murderous tyrant. He had no crown, no income. He could not promise her safety or comfort. Hell, he was the leader of a rebellion, a bringer of war, a warrior without a home, who was fighting for someone else to take the throne. Even in the best of circumstances, he had nothing but death and destruction in his near future, followed by a life of… What exactly? He had no idea what role, if any, he’d play in the future of Paragon if they succeeded.
Although he had no trouble seeing in the dark, he lit the thick white candle on the lone dresser. He wanted the fire, the flicker of life to cast out the shadows forming in his heart. He used the pitcher and basin to wash himself, then flopped down on the small bed. A rendering of the goddess of the mountain hung on the wall. A woman on fire—not burning but thriving. He glanced down at the red waves and divots that permanently marred his skin. He couldn’t feel sorry for himself. Dragons were created to endure.
He closed his eyes. All he saw was Leena’s face. He turned on his side. She’d feel warm tucked in against him. He flipped on his stomach. The tent. Oh goddess, he remembered how she’d felt in radiant detail. He groaned. Thank the Mountain dragons didn’t need much sleep. He doubted he’d be getting any tonight.
A faint knock came on his door. He raised his head. It was late. None of the scribes would be up at this hour. The knock came again. Barely a brush of knuckles on wood. He climbed out of bed and pulled on his breeches, leaving them unbuttoned at the top. Whoever it was, he planned to deal with them quickly.
He cracked the door. Leena?
She pressed one finger to her lips. Silently, he opened the door wider to let her in, then looked both ways to make sure the hall was clear before closing it behind her.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered.
“I… I couldn’t sleep.” Her face flushed, her eyes drifting to his breeches and the open fly.
He didn’t move to fasten it. He was in his own room, and it was the middle of the night.
Colin sighed, his hands landing on his hips. “Don’t you elves have a tea for that? If not, I’m sure Raven could help.”
“We never finished our conversation.”
“I think we did.”
She licked her lips, and Colin’s cock twitched at the sight of the tip of her pink tongue. What was she doing here? Was this some way of torturing him for embarrassing her earlier?
“We’re going to open the tomb tomorrow. The scroll is translated. You won’t need my help after that.”
“You must be relieved.” He frowned.
“Not as I should be.” She dropped her gaze to the space between their feet. “You said that if I wanted another taste, with your permission…”
Colin froze. Had he misheard her? If the severe blush staining her cheeks was any clue, he hadn’t. But this was dangerous. His dragon wanted her as his mate. He’d better know exactly what his boundaries were, or this would end badly for them both.
“A taste. What does it mean to you? Tell me exactly. I can’t color within the lines if I don’t know where the lines are.”
She released a held breath. “You’re going to make me say it? I thought men took what they wanted until a woman said no.”
“Not this man. Not this dragon.”
Her throat bobbed. “I want one night,” she whispered, her gaze flicking up to meet his. “Just between us. No one can ever know. Just one night to…” She gestured in front of her chest, as if there was something physically there. Something large and unwieldy. “…appease this hunger.”
“Hunger?” He knew exactly what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it.
“I ache for you,” she said, her violet eyes misting as if she might cry. She tugged at her dark copper braid, and her voice cracked as she continued. “My every fiber yearns for more of what we did before. It burns inside me. I can’t sleep or eat. It is a beast that must be fed or I might die.”
At once, Colin’s mouth went dry as a bone. He was far more experienced with the opposite sex than she was. What she was describing was lust, plain and simple. He could help her with that, but it would mean more to him. He had far more than physical pleasure at stake.
Although, his intentions weren’t completely charitable. He refused to tell her that feeding that beast might make it hungrier in the long run. He was too much of a bastard to give her any excuse to back out now.
“One night.” Colin hooked his knuckle under her chin and lifted it until she looked him in the eye. “Kissing, touching, or… everything?”
That pink tongue emerged again, and he could see her pulse fluttering. “Everything,” she said breathlessly. “I want to touch you. I want to…”
He narrowed his eyes. “What does everything mean to you?”
Her eyes drifted, and that blush was back. Goddess, he loved that blush.
“I’m not sure.”
“Then I’ll teach you.”
His dragon coiled inside him, his skin heating with urgency to take her. But he only had one chance at this. All he had to give her was his body. Himself. As he saw it, he had to make tonight so good, such a mind-blowing experience for her, that she’d leave the temple for him. That was the only way he’d have what he wanted. The only way he’d have her.
He walked around her, noticing her slight shiver under his gaze. She was nervous. He’d try his best to alleviate that. He took her braid between his fingers and untied the leather cord binding it. “A dragon has a highly developed sense of smell.” He unbraided the plait, running his fingers through the dark copper strands. “Do you know what you smell like to me, Leena?”
She shook her head.
“Blackcurrants and wild primrose. Dark floral ambrosia.” His touch reached the back of her skull, and he scraped his nails along the skin there before dragging his fingers through her hair. He buried his nose in it and inhaled. “I wonder what you’ll taste like.”
She released a shaky breath and tried to turn toward him.
“Stay where you are.” He traced his fingers behind her ear, pleased when she did as he commanded. She tipped her head to expose her neck to him—the long, graceful neck of a dancer with pale skin as perfect and smooth as spun vilt. He brought his lips to where he’d just touched and brushed them featherlight across her skin.
At the collar of her robes, he traced along her
neckline, tugged the fabric down between her breasts. The inside of the arm he had wrapped around her brushed over her nipple, and he found the tip hard. Good. He’d explore her breasts soon.
He stroked over her abdomen and dug his fingers into her belt. “I’m topless. Only fair that you join me,” he whispered in her ear.
Her throat twitched with her swallow. He pressed a kiss to her pulse as he untied the knot at her waist. The folds of her robe fell open, and he stepped back to pull it off her shoulders.
Her back was lithe, lean perfection. He tossed the garment on the chair, using the excuse to walk around her once more. Naked before him, her form held a willowy grace, from the tips of her pointed ears to the stretch of her waist to her elegant limbs, proportionally longer than a dragon’s. In the moonlight, her skin shone like carved marble, perfectly smooth and white.
Behind her again, he wrapped her hair around one hand, tugging until she gasped softly, then placed a kiss on her top vertebrae, just under her hairline. She released a deep, shaky breath, and he stemmed a self-satisfied grin. If she’d liked what he’d done to her in the tent, she’d love what he had in mind for her now. He cascaded kisses like a waterfall along her spine, releasing her hair and dropping to his knees to reach her tailbone, palms cupping the twin mounds of her ass.
“Now you can turn.”
She did. In his current position, her navel was level with his lips. He slipped his hands around her waist, and he placed a kiss there, worshiping it with his tongue and nibbling lower. She dug her fingers into his hair.
He would have liked to taste her right then. But she wasn’t ready for that. In fact, she was trembling so hard he was afraid she’d lose her balance. He needed to move her to the bed.
Rising, he met her gaze, then dropped his lips to hers. He skimmed his hands up her waist and cradled her breasts, flicking his thumbs across their taut peaks. Her fingers in his hair became more demanding, and he plucked and rolled her nipples in response. Heart pounding against his chest in time with his, she drove her tongue deeper into his mouth.
The Dragons of Paragon Page 14