Blood of Stars and Gods

by Melissa Petreshock

  “Theo speaks the truth. It is a matter of respect, not odd behavior,” I state calmly, not wishing to either enrage or worry Cait. She easily runs the gamut between the two extremes. “Is Theo your preferred means of address?” He nods. I expected no different from him. Had it been Oliver, perhaps … such a one for pomp and circumstance. But not Theo. “And your betrothed?”

  “The same. She will not allow anything else. I did not do this for titles, Corrin.” His tone takes a harsh edge. “You missed a great deal while at rest.”

  “Runa informed me of much.” I nod, mulling over the situation. “I gather Falcon has stirred the pot quite rightly more than he conceived possible.” Theo laughs, sharp and hollow, yet says nothing. “And here I thought only I could stir up such dire consequences,” I remark in a dry tone.

  “Enough with the chit-chat, if they’re all going to go ballistic over this, let’s just get this over with sooner rather than later.” Cait glares up at him. “Come on, Mr. High-and-Mighty-Dragon.”

  The dragon emits a low growl, running his fingers into her hair, leaning down to kiss Cait, and a twinge of jealousy churns in the pit of my stomach, the sensation of nausea rising again. If any of those surrounding me have noticed, not one have spoken to the fact my nearness to the mate I desire hastens my illness, watching her with another, unable to be with her, yearning for Cait each day and night, and knowing she will never be mine. Yet dying near Cait brings me a peacefulness I could find nowhere else either. It is the quandary I find myself, to die more quickly in order to die with the smallest measure of happiness in my heart.

  She grasps my hand to direct me downstairs with them as they go—her hand so soft and warm, petite and gentle even in her rough playfulness. And I find that small measure of happiness in the faintest of sense she grows mildly fond of me, though platonic in that fondness. I feel something more than mere pity from Cait. She has perhaps become my friend, and no matter of blood or supernatural influence caused it.

  *Theo*

  At the bottom of the staircase, Corrin slips away, entering the kitchen indirectly through the dining room. My brothers gather in the family room off the breakfast nook. I hear them and lead Cait down the main hallway to the rear of the house, a hand at the small of her back, feeling the tension within her. Although I have warned her what to expect, she is wary. We are dragons. Brotherhood or not, the trait of dominance lies within each of us, some far stronger than others, some never care to assert it regardless.

  “Hezab utaq,” I command as we step out of the hallway, finding my kindred assembled, on their feet, attention on us when we enter. Sliding my hand up her back, I brush her hair off her neck, turning Cait’s head to bare the side of her neck. Oliver’s eyes grow wide.

  With her transformation incomplete, she possesses no miraculous ability to heal if bitten by a dragon. Yet her blood mixed with the saliva from the bite of a True Alpha—only that can leave the Goddess Mark, the triquerta gracing Cait’s neck unlike a tattoo in its silvery perfection.

  Lowering his head, Oliver slowly drops to one knee. “My honor and respect, Lord Regent.”

  Clifford, Liam, and Claaron do not hesitate to follow suit, vowing their own honor and respect to the new leader of the brotherhood of the Dracopraesi, of all that is Cait’s. Jai does not fall to his knee but comes forward, reaching a hand to Cait’s neck, barely touching her mark before a ghost-like image of it appears in his hand as tiny flickering flames. With his other hand, he tugs at my shirt. “Off.” Not even if I were a god would I argue with Jaiteru Faerwyng, and I remove my shirt as he requests.

  Dragons have no fear of fire, an excellent fear to lack when a Mage chooses to hold his flaming hand against your chest. Clenching my teeth, I manage to say nothing, not flinch, show no sign of pain at all, accepting whatever ‘gift’ he has bestowed upon me, hoping he does the kindness of explaining. He pulls his hand away, and the skin beneath is healed, yet a mark identical to that on Cait’s neck remains.

  “So it be. North Star. Lord Regent. Unity.” Jai smiles, eyes bright and cheerful, nodding with great joy before returning to stand beside Clifford, who remains kneeling.

  “I suppose congratulations are in order, my friend.” Dante steps to the front of the room, grasping my hand in his. “You are wise and skilled, Theo. No other dragon suits the place of Lord Regent more rightfully, in my opinion. You are both deserving and earning of it. I believe Mother would wholeheartedly agree and find this most appropriate.”

  “I disagree.” Falcon scowls from the corner when I look to him, moving to stand in front of Cait rather than me. “I will not bow before you, nor will I pledge honor or respect. Neither will I swear any sort of fealty, duty, or otherwise to you.” His lip curls into a sneer, and I nearly grab at his throat, but Cait takes my hand in hers at her side. He turns to her, expression smoothing into a pleasant one. (Pleasant by standards for Falcon’s disposition.) “My honor and respect to the North Star.” Falcon does not drop to his knee, but he bows, though he maintains eye contact, not an ounce of passivity found in him. “To such divinity as the North Star, I pledge fealty, swearing to do my duty, bound by the honor code of the Dracopraesi to fulfill the role of guardian, to protect you with my very life. Your continued existence is my sole purpose until such duties are satisfied, and as the North Star, you release me from my honor-bond. Failing in such a task negates all meaning from my existence.”

  I can feel how badly Cait wants to laugh at him. For all that Falcon is truly an obnoxious and overbearing ass, his commitment to duty knows absolutely no bounds.

  Absolutely. None.

  Cait places her hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate the depth of your honor, Falcon.” Her hand slides across his collarbone to touch his neck, and I cannot withhold a growl of distaste at the sight of her too-intimately touching another male, then Flacon flinches, and she grasps at his neck. “The fire of stars and dragons cannot burn me.” He falls to his knees, but she keeps her hand on his neck, smelling of burnt flesh, though she shows no sign of pain. My Kielgard brother appears in horrifying torture. “You will not dishonor the fire of the North Star and my dragons without getting burned, Falcon.” She lets go, standing by my side again, looking down at him as he gazes at her with tremendous amazement in his eyes. “I accept your honor-bond, Falcon Kielgard and will hold you to it until I deem it fulfilled.”

  Chapter 6

  *Cait*

  Glancing back at the house, I can only see the silhouette of Claaron in the upstairs office but know Theo and Liam are there, too. I know they’re plotting and planning, discussing details of battles coming our way and a war we can’t seem to get rid of, things that seem far from reality here in Wenham, so peaceful and quiet, away from the constant buzz of everything I grew up with in Boston.

  Falcon’s broad, crimson-bodied dragon form glides low over our heads before encircling the backyard again. His golden horns and spikes have a brassy shine in the dim twilight of the evening, scales slick and oily looking unlike the other dragons I’ve seen. Something about the sight makes me shiver.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Yeah,” I lie. Falcon doesn’t scare me, but natural, as a dragon, he’s definitely creepier than the others. “The temperature sure has dropped quickly.”

  “Caitie, did you ask me to take a walk with you in order to discuss the cycle of New Celtic provincial weather?” asks Oliver, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, ensuring I stay warm and cozy, protectively held against his side.

  Out of habit, I snuggle into him, breathing in his scent, something comforting and familiar. “Not to repeat myself, but you know I’m going to … you remind me so much of Uncle Thomas, Oliver. So tall. But lean, not brutish … still strong, though. Of course, he was a vampire.” I laugh slightly at that. “And he had such blue eyes. Everyone said I have his eyes. … He never gave up his British accent either, always said it had a far more elegant sound than any American accent he’d ever heard, even when cursing. He also said Brits ha
d the best swear words of the English language.”

  “He was a good man, and I wish I had known Sir Greyson better than I did. But I did know him. He handled Hayden Holdings’ business matters related to the sovereignty directly, meeting with Corrin himself, never sending representatives.” We continue walking away from the house, and the dragon keeps steering me a reasonable distance away from the woods lining the edge of the sloping yard. “In the last year of his life, once you came of age, he spoke often of you. As Corrin’s dragon, I sat in on many meetings, either observing or advising. I believed your uncle desired to obtain an arrangement with Corrin, that he had an interest in gaining a contract of marriage between the two of you.” He pauses, but I think I already know where he’s going with this line of conversation. “In fact, when your case came upon the court docket, it was I who encouraged Corrin to take a personally vested interest.”

  His persistence, guilt, indecisiveness, it all fits. “I suspected as much, and honestly, if I’ve learned anything about this destiny business, it’s that everything plays a part in your path. It takes all the pieces of the puzzle, every action that came beforehand to bring you to wherever you are, right? And I’m pretty okay with the general direction my life is headed, certainly couldn’t be happier with where you and I are now.” He hugs me to him, a display of affection I wouldn’t have believed him capable of a few weeks ago, but so much has changed. “Anyway, I didn’t ask you to come with me to talk about the past. How are you doing, Oliver?”

  Taking a deep breath, he rubs my shoulder briskly, possibly to keep me warm, or to distract himself. “I am quite well, and how are you, Caitie?”

  “You know that is not what I meant, and don’t even start dodging questions. For an eternal dragon, you’re a poor liar.”

  Sir Oliver Pendragon stands straighter, pulling his shoulders back, giving the air of self-importance that so perfectly complements the charcoal three-piece suit he wears and makes me call him Spiffy. I withhold a giggle. “I am quite a capable liar if need be, but you are the North Star, preventing such diversions from having the desired effect. Nothing has happened that I did not expect would come in some manner or another.”

  “You expected Theo would make a move for Agtos’s position?”

  “No,” he says, stopping dead in his tracks, looking down at me. “I expected he would ascend above my own position. How could I honestly expect that the protector and mate of the North Star would not rise beyond the former protector of the great monarch prophesied to unite the supernatural and human worlds—the failed king whose reign shall lie in ruins in the memory of history?” Oliver’s expression turns to one of concern. “Why do you ask?” I feel my face heat up, and his brows shoot nearly to his hairline. “Theo did not tell you what he was doing.” It comes out as a demanding statement more than a question.

  “Not exactly.” And this is not exactly the conversation I meant to have either. It’s as though I’m discussing the most intimate details of my sex life with Uncle Thomas, only with Oliver, it’s more like a father/daughter conversation. So much worse. “I had a sense of what was happening, but he didn’t exactly stop to explain anything … at least, not until after … he told me what it meant then.”

  “And you didn’t kill him?” He abruptly covers his face with his hand. “My apologies, Caitie, I simply meant that Theo should have explained the rites associated with a True Alpha rising to the position of Lord Regent.”

  “You make it sound like this happens all the time, this whole power play, jockeying for position.”

  “Absolutely not. For millennia, we existed as a brotherhood of equals, the Goddess as our sole provider of leadership and guidance; however, over time, as the world changed, she distanced herself from it, and by default, from us as well. Before she became reclusive to the High Realm, Agtos stepped up to assert himself to the position,” he explains, and my mouth drops open.

  “You mean he … with … Oh. My. Goddess.”

  “By her own design, that is how it happens, Caitie, or Theo would have no need to … do such a thing to you.” He looks away as he says it, and I’m sure he’s just as embarrassed to be discussing this. “In essence, a True Alpha must carnally dominate a female with the divine blood of dragons within her. Only the Mother Goddess, who created us, and the North Star, who is destined to guide us in a new era, have ever and will ever have that blood, Cait.”

  “What if she refuses?” I can’t imagine how Theo would have reacted if I had told him to get the hell off me.

  “A dragon cannot, would not force a woman to submit. It is a violation of our most basic honor code.” He emphasizes each word with such a serious tone, and I know, without a doubt, it’s true. Not even an ass of a dragon-like Falcon could do such a thing. “Refusal is a testament that regardless of how dominant that dragon’s alpha traits may be, they are not strong enough to warrant True Alpha status. All Dracopraesi believe that the pheromones of a True Alpha are irresistible.”

  “So, I couldn’t have said no if I wanted to.”

  “You would not have wanted to. Ever.” We begin walking again, and he casts an annoyed glance toward the sky as Falcon swoops down just above our heads. “Bloody git,” he mutters. “From the moment I realized who you truly were, Cait, deep down I knew that should Theo choose to fully pursue his desire for you there would be no denying him. As you have said before, he and I share a close bond as brothers. Close enough that I never have been ignorant of the fact he had the dominant trait in him. I knew … I knew.” Oliver nods, looking off to the tree line. “Undoubtedly, you felt drawn to Theo the moment you laid eyes on him.”

  “Hm, and here I thought it was just because he’s gorgeous.”

  “Oh, certainly, if you like that long-haired ruffian type, I suppose. I’ve told him before, either shave his face or grow respectable facial hair, but that, that scruff is uncalled for. We’re dragons, not uncouth beasts.” Stroking his impeccably kempt short beard, Oliver sighs. “And he has no taste in appropriate attire befitting a leader.”

  I save Oliver my opinion on how Theo looks the way he is and in whatever he wears. Or doesn’t. That’s the last thing my dragon pseudo-dad wants to hear. “What does Agtos wear?” The now former Lord Regent never held much interest for me until Theo took his position and everything that means. He’s since topped my curiosity chart.

  We reach a small, very flat area of the back part of the yard that appears to be used frequently for something, though I can’t imagine what. “Agtos … well …” Oliver pauses, clearing his throat, definitely stalling. “I suppose you could say his tastes are rather nontraditional for one in a position of such significant leadership as the Lord Regent of the Dracopraesi.”

  “Like what?” I’m not about to let him off the hook on this one.

  “Have you ever heard the term ‘hippie’? It’s quite old in the human concept of time, a historical reference to a generational type of persons found particularly in the nineteen-sixties. Does that sound at all familiar?”

  I begin laughing, watching the stressed expression on his face. “Yes. Uncle Thomas and I watched an old documentary about some event called Woodstock because he liked a lot of the music from back then. They were strange, to say the least. A lot like the faery salt addicts you see nowadays.”

  “Though generally quite peaceful and wishing for a world where peace was the way of all those in existence, I suppose. And in that respect, they were not completely unlikable, though they failed miserably in most matters of personal hygiene and care of appearance.” Of course, those would rate as top priorities in Oliver’s opinion. “The point of this is: Agtos Pendragon is the closest thing you could ever find to a hippie dragon, though he wasn’t always that way. At one time, he showed a wisdom and acuity similar to that of Jai and a strong command of tactical reasoning much like Liam. However, though he has never felt the touch of death, he came within a heartbeat of it, and that was close enough to change him … death affects dragons in inexplicable and of
ten profound ways, not always for the better. Since his brush with death, I’m afraid what he’s become is something the majority of us must be relieved Theo has replaced as our leader.”

  “Oh.” I’m not even sure how to respond to any of that, but I know one day, I still want to meet Agtos, if only to satisfy my curiosity.

  “Oh, indeed.” He turns us to begin walking back toward the house, and I see Falcon shifting as he lands near the patio, turning to watch our approach. Even with my improved eyesight, I can’t see his face clearly, but I have no doubt that it’s stony and unexpressive. I think if he reincarnated into something other than a dragon, he might make a good Rottweiler. “Cait, whatever in the name of the Goddess did you do to Falcon?”

  “I’m not really sure,” I admit. “I heard Jai’s voice in my head, telling me to touch him then I did, and somehow, I just knew. I knew what to do, what I could do. There was a sense of immense power within me, but it felt so natural. I wasn’t afraid of it at all. There are other things that I’ve been feeling, but I think I need to talk to Jai about that.” I’ve quickly learned which of my dragons are best at what areas of assistance I need. “There is something I think you could help me learn, though, Oliver.”

  He stops walking again, hugging me to his side more than holding me, looking down and smiling. “Of course, Caitie. You know I’ll be of assistance to you in any way possible.”

  “In school, we learned a very basic history of the Dracopraesi, mostly the fact that you were created by the Goddess and that you’re divided into six houses of sixty-six dragons each, with the majority of our textbook pages dedicated to the four of you on the Guard since you were publicly known, famous basically. Really, beyond that, everything I know is either bits and pieces of information gleaned from articles regarding the four of you from the King’s Guard over the years or what I’ve learned since all of this.” I exhale in a deep sign, rolling my eyes, which I know he hates, but he can get over it. “I feel so behind on all the things I should know, considering whatever role I’m supposed to play in this grand plan as the North Star. I don’t really understand dragon society, societal norms, your political or social ranking system, all the things that I learned in psychology classes about all the other supernatural species. There aren’t any classes on Dracopraesi psychology.”