“There is… strength of character in you, I admit, but does it never bother you?”
“I beg your pardon, my lady?”
“People will never see the real you. They will only see the hunter. The predator.”
Krath snorted. “I am not interested in what they think.” He stopped to gaze at her and Dulcea ceased her walking, too. “They are not you, and there is but one lady whose opinion holds sway over me.”
He touched his fingers to her cheek, and Dulcea found her breath quickening because of it.
“Your courage is not the only thing I admire about you…” His voice bordered on seductive. “You matter to me, my lady. There is substance to you I have not known these past six centuries outside the companionship of my dragons.”
“I do not understand. Neither time, social constructs, nor anyone else’s opinions bind you. It makes no sense. Why do you wish to make yourself lonely?”
“You should know why. It is difficult for others to understand all that we are. The lot of the one who can speak to the dragons is difficult. Many will covet what is his, and trust is a fickle thing,” he said. “Our hunt for the demon has twisted us both. Lady Sarosha made me this accursed being, but you chose your fate without coercion. It is nothing to envy. What is left of me is a forgotten old hero—and even your valor will fade in time.”
Dulcea stared up at him, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Her smile was mischievous. “I am not intimidated. You cannot make me, whatever you say.”
Krath grinned, reaching forward to press his fingers on her arm when out of nowhere an odd look stole over him. He frowned, taking a step away from her. Dulcea bit her lip. His posture soon morphed again, and from his look of intense concentration she realized what was going on. There was a conversation he was having in his mind, and she settled to wait in silence until it finished. It did not take long at all, and when he once more fixed his pale turquoise eyes on her, she realized something had changed.
“I have just received the most bizarre news of our centuries of communication from the leader of the Errai Clan, Saranis the Black. You recall him from the caves under Gwyndoorn, I am sure,” Krath said. “As you know, the dragons can think on a collective level—it is how dragonstones work, but it is rare they would speak across clan borders. However, Saranis was just now contacted by a dragon who was not of his kin. This dragon… was Amparo Darksun.”
“Oh.” Dulcea’s breath hitched. “That… that means he knows who you are.”
Krath pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I am, and I quote, ‘to get my filthy hands off you and bring you back to camp this very instant’.”
Interlude
Usvameer, Camp West Ford. Mead Moon (summer season 7093).
The seventh year of the Rebellion.
Dulcea had never prayed to indifferent gods, and while she did not intend to start now, a part of her craved for the comfort many found in their faith. She kneeled by her bed with her head pressed against its wooden edge.
Her heart pounded in her chest. A light sheen of sweat beaded on her brow and upper lip. She felt sick to her core.
Amparo knew about Krath.
He would want her nowhere near the vampire ever again. Krath’s status as the Black Dragonlord and his centuries-long fight against Grom did not matter; Dulcea had no illusions about how her dragon guardian would react. He would not see past the secret she had kept from him.
Dulcea gritted her teeth. She would not surrender without a fight. If there was a way to force Amparo to reconsider his stance, she would find it. Krath possessed more knowledge about Grom than the rest of the world combined. Her tentative friendship with him might prove to be the wild card that turned the battle in their favor.
The visitor bell chimed at the entrance to her tent, and a moment later Myoden pushed aside the curtain to her sleeping alcove. The priest was wearing a sword belt with his twin swords in place, dressed in armor instead of his healer’s robes. Dulcea got to her feet in a hurry, raising her chin to muster what courage remained.
She would not give Amparo the satisfaction of cowering before him. Whatever it took, she would come out the victor.
Myoden frowned, his expression colder than she had ever seen it.
“Come, it is time.”
# # #
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS & MORE
Thank you for reading Immortal Defiance! I hope you enjoyed this foray into Dulcea and Krath’s world, and I hope to see you along for the ride for Books 2 and 3 as well. As of writing this in September 2019, both book manuscripts for 2 & 3 have already been written, and the full story is complete. I am currently editing Book 2 and aim to inquire beta readers for it still within this year.
Please consider telling the world what you thought about Immortal Defiance and leave a review at Amazon, Goodreads, or any platform of your choice. Your opinion is important and can help others to find books you also enjoyed.
To contact me, or to further explore Dulcea’s world and its artwork, visit me at:
https://lauramaybrooke.com
https://www.deviantart.com/lauramaybrooke
I am also active at Twitter, where I post a lot of my artwork related to this series. Catch me at:
@LMaybrooke
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A big thank you to my fabulous beta readers; you helped me polish this story to the gem it is now. Also, a very special thanks to Maddy D., who, in addition to being a fantastic beta reader, also lent a critical editor’s eye to weeding out mistakes in my manuscript. Any that remain are of my own doing, for failing to observe the changes suggested to me.
You all improved this story together with me and made this book what it is today.
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See you in 2020 for Books 2 & 3, if everything goes according to plan.
In the meantime, come say hi to me at any of my social media platforms!
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