by Mary Auclair
“Then I’ll stay with Myral and protect the children until you come back.”
“There is no other I trust more.” Aldric met Dalgo’s eyes. He knew the weight of the responsibility he was placing on his old friend, of the danger he was putting him and Myral in. The entire nation was going to go into shock at the news of the murder of a young dragon lord. The return of the Knat-Kanassis could not be held secret any longer, no matter what the Council decided. Fear was going to spread like wildfire amongst the people, tensions between humans and Delradon were going to rise.
The list of evil that was going to befall his people was long. Mixed race families torn apart. People forced to choose sides. Neighbors eying neighbors with hatred and suspicion.
The old world’s darkest page, one they had all thought long forgotten, was about to resurface here on Earth.
“My Lord.”
A feminine voice called from the hallway and Aldric turned, surprised to see Mistress Hael walking toward him, her gray dress ruffling along with her hurried steps. The stern lines of her face were accentuated by the long shadows cast by the heating crystal bundles set in the tall urns in the hallways, and her yellow eyes shone in the low light. He stared at her, noticing for the first time how she never smiled. Endora was right; the woman was cold.
“Yes, Mistress Hael?” Aldric half-turned to greet the woman, allowing his annoyance at the disturbance to show on his face. “What can I do for you?”
“I was told that I wasn’t to teach the Lady Shari for the next few days.” The woman pursed her lips and a flash of anger reached her eyes. “I told her that you would surely find this unacceptable.”
“You mean the Lady Endora?” Aldric corrected the woman and frowned as Mistress Hael pulled nervously on the long sleeves of her dress. “She is the children’s mother, and I placed her in charge of their well-being.”
“Of course, my Lord.” Mistress Hael slipped her tongue along her lips nervously, her face contorting in a repulsive attempt at a servile smile. “But she is only human, and her daughter is most unmannered. I fear for the influence this has on the Lady Shari, and on Rasha. She already has too much human influence as it is—with her origins, I mean.”
Aldric turned fully and glared at the governess who had been hired to take care of Shari since her mother died in childbirth. How could he have never seen it before? The cold, harsh core of the woman, never a smile, never a warm gesture. Not a trace of affection in her voice as she talked about the girl she’d had in her care since her first breath. Endora was right about her. She wasn’t fit to be in charge of small children. Of any children.
“Listen to me very well, Mistress Hael, because I will not repeat these words.” Aldric locked gazes with the insipid dull yellow eyes of the governess. The woman shrank back and cowered but there was still something there, something hard and unforgiving he hadn’t seen before. Something hateful. “You are relieved of your duties and you will depart the castle before my return from the Mourning of Lord Emeril of Balka’s son.”
“But my Lord—”
“Go. Now.” Aldric turned away from the woman, dismissing her.
“She’s corrupted you. This is what happens when a dragon mixes with the filth.” A second later, Mistress Hael’s steps resonated on the stone floor as she left.
Aldric turned around and watched her leave, an uneasy feeling settling on his chest.
“I never liked her,” Dalgo said, shaking his head. “Should have dismissed her long ago.”
“Yes, it seems I should have.”
Her head lolled in the crook of his shoulder as the dragon’s powerful wings propelled them to their destination. The night air was dry and cold, even this far south, and the only heat came from the dragon’s constant glow, but that suited Aldric just fine. His arm was beginning to feel numb but still he didn’t want to move for fear of waking her. Endora was tired enough as it was, and they had a long night ahead of them. A Mourning wasn’t a pleasant evening at the best of times, but in the case of a child, it promised to be a painful and taxing event.
His feelings coiled and churned, deep in his chest. So much she hid from him, so much he didn’t know, couldn’t control. He could still feel it in the back of his throat, the unchecked, murderous rage that had grabbed him when the human man had stated his claim on Endora. Just thinking about it made his blood thicken and curdle, ready to punish his enemy with a deadly blow at the slightest provocation.
Endora was his. His to the soft, secret places in her lush woman’s body, to the maddening female sounds coming out of her mouth in the heat of passion. To that fierce, protective heart that fought for the children she claimed as her own.
She was his.
Aldric’s hand traveled to the warmth of Rhyl’s scales, feeling the dragon respond to his touch. The connection appeased him, made his grip on his emotions stronger. His life-force flowed with the dragon’s, merging and melting together until the fine line between his life and Rhyl’s blurred and disappeared. The animal was his anchor and his reservoir at the same time, and he could never go too long without touching him without missing the contact like he would miss a limb. Their lives were linked since their very conception via a genetic interference so complex, most people of his race elevated it to religion. The myth of the dragon, the mythical beast, struck a spiritual awe into the heart of every Delradon man, woman and child.
A religious awe that had the potential to dangerously turn into the fanatic, as the Knat-Kanassis’ existence attested.
The image of the dead dragon came back to his mind, small and vulnerable, so still. So cold. Under his touch, Rhyl shivered. The beast knew the reason for their travel, and ancient pain reached him in waves as Rhyl communicated his emotions to him the only way he could.
Memories rushed to him, cruelly clear despite the long years. Memories of another Mourning, a Mourning that changed his life forever.
The night was cold, and he and Rhyl were shivering outside in the large courtyard. Father stood a step behind him, his dragon, Elrad, standing watch over his shoulder, still as a statue, the bronze color of his scales shining under the moonlight like they were shedding the tears Dierno couldn’t give in to. Aldric held back the tears that burned his eyelids, knowing that his father’s disapproval would be the blow that broke him, make him shrink into a tiny bundle, silent and unseen under the weight of the mountain. He held his eyes open, knowing he couldn’t blink, that if he allowed the burning pain to triumph, tears would run down his cheeks, betraying the gaping wound he had in his chest. The hole that belonged to Ylmira and that now lay gaping open, so empty it throbbed with a pulsing pain. So empty he felt like screaming, like screeching his lungs out, tearing his Mourning clothes apart, hitting the world in its face for the horror he was about to witness.
Ylmira was gone, and so was her dragonet.
People stood around the stone landing, all the Lords and Ladies of the continent and even beyond, with their dragons sentient sentinels behind them. The place was filled with breathing creatures and heavy, beating hearts. All of them meaningless, except one.
Ela’s absence was like a black hole in the room, pulling the heat away, eating up the oxygen.
Silence descended on the assembly, heavy and full of expectation. The hush of a hungry crowd wrapped its hands around the room like the dead memory of an echo, a ghost within a ghost, without even a trace of life. Eyes glimmered with curiosity, with the perverted glee of those who were not sharing the pain they were about to witness.
Ela walked into the room. Her white gown shimmered with dragon scales, as pale and colorless as her skin. As pale and colorless as her grief. Sorrow was etched on every line of his mother’s features, from the corners of her mouth to the subdued glow of her eyes. So much sorrow, it seemed to push against Ela’s skin from the inside, threatening to make her explode with thunderous, metallic tears.
A hand closed on his shoulder and at his feet, Rhyl whimpered.
The Mourning was about
to begin.
Aldric shook the memories away. He didn’t want to remember. The Mourning of his sister was a dark, painful place he had walled away in the most remote corners of his mind. It marked the beginning of the slow decay of his mother’s health until she became the dried out shell of the woman she had been, bitter and distant. Dead inside long before her body followed suit. All the years that followed, years that saw him and Rhyl turn into the adults they were now, were devoid of laughter, of affection, while he labored under his father’s constant expectations, always higher, always harder to reach.
Aldric’s entire life would have been different had Ylmira lived. He would have grown up knowing how to love. How to express his feelings to the woman who slept in his embrace, how to warm to the children who lived under his roof. Laughter, instead of whispers, would fill the hallways. He saw it now, what grief had done to his parents, to the entire castle.
Never again.
He was headed to another child’s Mourning but this time, he wasn’t alone and scared. He was a man, and he had every reason to fight for those under his protection.
He glanced down at Endora’s sleeping face.
She knew how to love. How to cherish and embrace. How to fill a life with laughter and memories that left a warm imprint on the brain long after the moment was gone. A savage need to protect her overcame him, rippling in unison with the emotions of the beast under his palms. He would never allow her to feel the pain they were about to witness.
But before laughter could fill his house again, he had to face the sorrow to come.
Endora turned to Aldric, the hem of her gown moving softly against her ankles. The long dress shimmered under the golden tones of the desert moonlight. Aldric stared at her, his eyes trailing up and down her body with a stricken expression. She watched him carefully, the man who had been a stranger just a few weeks ago. Now, with his features softened by the low light of the moon, it felt like he had always been there. Being with him made her feel as though the world had found its center, and everything was going to be all right as long as he was with her.
The feeling terrified her as much as it entranced her.
Aldric looked at her, his eyes moving from her hair, done in an intricate braid that fell in a heavy mass over her naked shoulder, to her mouth, and down her body. He reached for the long skirt of the dress and ran his fingers over the fabric with tenderness.
Behind them, Rhyl stood his silent sentry, his dragon eyes calmly set on them. As she met the beast’s eyes, Endora saw a depth of emotion in the pale, surreal pupils, something old and painful. Something she had yet to understand.
“This was my mother’s.” Aldric didn’t take his eyes from the gown, his gaze reaching far back, to that distant past that had left deep scars on the man he was today. “Made entirely of dragon scales. Her dragon, Sellari, was Rhyl’s mother. They had the same color.”
“It’s beautiful.” Endora stepped closer. She didn’t know what else to say. The gown was beautiful in the same way as a cicada’s last song. It had sadness clinging to its sparkling, priceless surface, and wearing it made her feel like her eyes were too large and her chest too small.
“It was her Mourning gown.” Aldric swallowed, then shook his head slowly. “I haven’t seen it in a long time. I forgot how beautiful it was.”
Silence descended between them, and Endora’s eyes glided to the gown between Aldric’s fingers. It was white and reached her ankles, leaving one shoulder bare and the other covered with what was fashioned like a dragon’s wing, all the way to the shiny scales and sharp talons that curved right over her heart. A Mourning gown. It was befitting of the grief the name entailed, and she was suddenly afraid to push for more. Whatever came next, it was full of hurt.
“Who was she mourning?” Endora asked the question in a whisper, not wanting to disrupt the quiet silence of the night.
“My sister, Ylmira.” Aldric lifted his eyes and looked at her. There it was, that hurt she was so afraid of, raw and deep like a fresh wound. “She died when she was only six years old. Ela never recovered.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice lost its strength, and the gown suddenly felt heavier on her body, the fabric colder and damp, like moving skin. She didn’t want to wear it anymore but she had to. A Mourning was a sacred tradition in the world of the Draekon, one that didn’t allow for her refusal.
“It was a long time ago.” Aldric’s mouth stretched in a small smile, and he let go of the gown. “It doesn’t matter now.”
But the hurt in his eyes said otherwise. He turned and Endora reached for him, following blind instinct. Her hand closed on his, and the heat from his skin seared her palm with a need to hold him. He paused, not pushing her hand away but not turning back, either.
“What happened to her?”
“She fell sick. They tried for months but the doctors couldn’t help her.”
“I thought Delradon medicine cured everything.”
“Almost.” Aldric shook his head. “Draekons are different from most Delradon or humans. As a child, the life force that links us to our dragon is a fragile link. If disrupted, it means death—for both.”
A deep shiver traveled along Endora’s spine, crawling inside her bones up to her heart. “Is that what happened to Ylmira? Her life force was disrupted?”
“We will never know for certain, but yes, that was what the doctors always said.”
He was leaving something out, she could tell. Something that had made him hardened and cold as he grew up in this castle with the ghost of a lost little girl haunting the constant whispers of the mountain.
“But you think something else happened, don’t you?”
This time, Aldric met her eyes. There it was, that core of hurt and ice, fighting against her, refusing to open to her completely.
“Ela blamed my father.” He lifted his eyebrows. “For years, I believed her. Now I’m not so sure anyone could have saved her.”
“It’s a terrible thing to do, blame a father for his child’s death.” Her throat closed, and whatever else she wanted to say died.
Aldric turned his head again, away from her, but not fast enough. She saw it in his eyes. Underneath all the layers of stern control was a need for love: shy and yet vital. A need for her that he couldn’t express otherwise.
She reached out, just like she’d wanted to do before, and cupped his cheek. Her thumb ran along the length of his jaw, just a little rough with the beginning of a beard. He watched her, his silver eyes hungry for her, but allowing her to take the lead in this moment. Giving her all the time she needed. Her other hand reached up and her fingers were lost in the silky mass of his shoulder-length hair.
So regal, so proud. So male in his reluctance to express his vulnerability.
Her heart fluttered and her belly quivered with need as she gently pulled his head down, pushing herself up on the tips of her toes at the same time. His hands closed around her waist right before her lips met his.
They kissed, long and deep. Their tongues melded together and they breathed each other’s presence. Not with the desperate passion from before, or with the hunger of a long wait, but with a true need for one another. With a promise: one she had never made to anyone, one she’d never received from anyone before. Aldric pressed her against him as they kissed with a tenderness that unraveled something buried deep inside her soul, inside that dark wound that had remained after Wilmer left her.
She wanted him to need her. She wanted him to need her because she needed him as well.
As hard as she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to protect her heart from his passion, his openness to her and to her needs. To his generosity in fully accepting her family as his own, into his life. He was nothing like she’d thought, yet he was everything she ever needed, and now she would never be whole without him. Aldric had taken a place in her life no other man would ever fulfill.
His mouth finally left her as he broke the kiss. His hand cradled the back of her neck and she leaned in
to his body, burying her face in his shoulder, inhaling his smoky, male scent. Yes. She could count on him. He would never desert her in her hour of need. Never betray her and leave her alone to shoulder the burden of her children. He was there for good, to take care of her.
“I will never allow you to mourn like my mother did.” His tone was rich and fierce at the same time. “This I vow to you. I will never allow you or the children to be harmed.”
“I know.”
It was true. She believed him with all her heart. There were a lot of things she didn’t have the answers to when it came to Aldric Darragon, but she knew he would defend her with everything he had.
As if on cue, Rhyl growled gently, and his massive head rubbed Endora’s side. She chuckled and leaned on him. “You too, I know.” Her hand left Aldric to rest on the dragon’s warm scales. His pale eyes watched her and there, too, she found the same promise. “Thank you.”
Steam rose from his large nostrils in response.
“We need to go.” Aldric brought her back to reality. “We cannot be late.”
Endora inhaled to steady herself, then nodded. In the distance, Fyr castle glowed under the moonlight like a giant tear.
Chapter 18
Dragons. Dragons everywhere.
No matter where she looked, dragons were shining under the orange moon of the desert, their surreal, powerful bodies packed in tightly on the landing. They stood like giants behind their Lords and Ladies, silent and deadly, coerced into peaceful cohabitation for a while as the Mourning was about to begin. The beasts were magnificent, with colors ranging from the blinding jewel tones of a ruby to the muted brown of rich earth. All in all, there were about a hundred of them, their power saturating the air with the electric scent of magic.
The Mourning was taking place on a large circular platform, where the dragons sat so close they couldn’t stretch their wings without touching each other.