by Cara Bristol
An odd anticipation jittered through her. “It is not safe for you to be here,” she said without thinking. His fate shouldn’t trouble her. “Your friend has recovered and is resting in another part of the harem.” Why tell him this?
He exhaled, his relief evident. “Thank goodness.”
She found amusement in the way he approached slowly, as if he feared she might bolt. He’s afraid of scaring me? She could immolate him before he could even think of using the blade he’d hidden in his palm. This human ought to be quaking in his leather boots. But he emitted no spicy fear or threatening intent. More like curiosity and…concern?
“Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” he asked.
“I am O’ne.” Why had she said that? O’ne no longer existed. She was only the priestess. No, not only. The priestess. More exalted, more feared than the king.
“O’ne, nice to meet you.” He grinned and warmth fluttered inside.
I do not like this male. He is up to no good. Kill him! her dragoness said.
She did not shirk from meting out justice, but she did not kill on a whim or at the urging of her dragoness. Still, she had a point.
“What is that in your hand?” she demanded.
He hesitated then opened his fingers to reveal a blade.
He means us harm! Kill him!
“What do you intend to do with that?”
He slipped it into a sheath tucked up under his shirt. “Put it away,” he said.
Are you satisfied? The human sheathed his weapon, she said. Not that it had represented any threat to her.
He is not human. He has fyre. But he does not belong here!
This man? Dragon? Ridiculous! But a wise priestess would not ignore the counsel of her dragoness. In her mind’s eye, she merged with the Eternal Fyre…searching…searching…then jerked in shock.
“You have fyre!” Just like her daughters Helena and Rhianna—except he wasn’t one of her children. He’d been born of another. Someone else on the exploration team had produced a child with a human and had left him or her behind.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“You’re a dragon.”
His rich warm laugh stirred those disconcerting sensations. “I’m human.”
Anger flashed. She did not err, and no one dared to contradict her. She took deep breaths to cool her anger. His audacity originated from ignorance. He was still partly, mostly human, his fyre attenuated by time and breeding. New to Draco, he had no idea who he was speaking to. She bore some responsibility for the latter. She’d introduced herself as O’ne. What had she been thinking to say such a thing?
She needed to retreat to regain composure. He’d incited her emotions into such a state of confusion, she’d almost forgotten the original purpose of this conversation. He couldn’t stay here; if the concubine who resided in this arm caught him, his life would be endangered.
Although part dragon, his humanness would make him an abomination in the eyes of most. Grief over the loss of her innocent baby daughter rose to the surface again. This man was no innocent—of that she was sure—but she couldn’t allow him to be destroyed. He was the fyre descendant of another Draconian’s child. Did he or she still mourn the loss? She would not wish her grief on another.
She hadn’t noticed his fyre until her dragoness pointed it out, and she’d searched for it. She’d noticed his blue eyes, his smile, his leather-and-musk scent.
“You must leave,” she said.
“Draco or this area?”
For her peace of mind, he should leave Draco, but she could not forget that Henry—in Dragonish, his name would be H’ry—was another’s lost child. Perhaps his mother or father had bled tears for the child left behind. Henry had to remain on Draco, but there could be no further contact between O’ne and the man with laughing blue eyes.
“I meant this area. It belongs to a dragoness who won’t be pleased to find you here. You are lucky she is absent at the moment. Come—I will show you the way out.” She beckoned and made to leave the arm of the star.
“I can find my own way around,” he said, but he walked alongside her, his stride long and sure.
“And that’s why you ended up in the wrong place, right?” she couldn’t resist pointing out.
“I was told Helena might be in this section.”
“Who told you that?”
“Patsy. She saw a medical professional heading down this passage when we were, uh, flown in. They’d asked us to donate blood, but we were never told if either of us matched.”
“Princess Rhianna matched and donated.” She canted her head. “How would your Patsy recognize a Draconian healer?”
He chuckled. “She’s not my Patsy, just my former, uh, partner, and Helena’s friend. She recognized the medical uniform.”
They’d entered the courtyard, and she stopped, intending to point out Helena’s area. A visit from a friend would bring cheer to her daughter, and showing him the way would hopefully prevent him from wandering and getting himself wounded or killed. “Concubines sometimes drape themselves in sheer fabrics, but with the exception of myself and the king and queen, Draconians wear the same gray jumpsuit.”
“Patsy must have been mistaken, then.” His grin beguiled while his gaze lingered. “Your gown is beautiful.” Her dress and hair were as white as the snow she’d encountered during winter, the season in which her daughter had been conceived. “And why are you one of the exceptions?” he asked.
“Because I am the pries—”
Her daughter’s piercing scream shattered her composure.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Helena slept, her chest rising and falling, looking rather healthy for someone who’d been attacked. It wasn’t until Patsy moved around to the other side of the bed that she noticed the vicious bite below her jugular. A little higher, and it would have been all over. Patsy shuddered at the idea of being attacked by a space lizard. What a horrible way to die.
She’d make it quick for her; she wouldn’t suffer—much.
When the lizard doctor had asked for a blood donation, he’d implied Helena hovered on the verge of death. Patsy had figured she could suffocate her and let the assumption be she’d bled out as a result of her injuries. That wouldn’t work now.
However, she had come prepared. Always have a plan B. It would be a little trickier, since Helena wasn’t as torn up as she’d expected her to be, but she could make this look like death by dragon. She’d take and transmit a photo to satisfy Biggs that the job had been completed.
That damn Henry had almost ruined everything, insisting on checking on Helena, so she’d sent him to the wrong area. He’d become an impediment to the completion of her assignment. Sooner or later, she’d have to eliminate him, so hopefully he’d encounter a dragon who’d fry his ass and save a step.
A patriotic do-gooder with a hero complex, her ex-partner had insisted on accompanying her to Draco. In retrospect, she never should have agreed, but since space lizards creeped her out, she’d been glad for the company at the time. However, Henry had a knack for getting in the way. He always had.
When they’d partnered years ago, he had a penchant for showing up at the wrong place at the wrong time, forcing her to scuttle drops at the last minute. Still, he trusted her, and he’d never guessed she was a double agent, working for two governments, playing one against the other.
Biggs had figured it out. She sometimes wondered if he’d been the one responsible for her and Henry being compromised, ending their operative careers. After forced retirement, Henry had gone to work for the Secret Service, and she’d been placed with the president.
Her first day, she discovered who her boss was. Biggs had approached her, revealed what he knew about her double life, and proceeded to make her an offer she didn’t dare refuse.
Most assignments had been innocuous—pass on information to this person or that one or prevent information from getting to this person or that one, but there had been several jobs.
While Biggs considered Helena an airhead, and Patsy could concede she wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree, she had liked her. However, she’d maintained an emotional distance because she’d known this day would come. The only surprise was that it had taken this long.
Patsy had been scared shitless the space lizards would discover the small arsenal she’d sneaked aboard the spacecraft from Elementa, but the weapons crafted from metals mined from the planet were invisible to the ship’s sensors. As a fallback, she’d packed a quantity of poisons and chemicals that when combined became explosive.
For this job, she’d open up the wound near the jugular, twist the knife to cut the vein itself, and voila! Death by dragon. She reached under her skirt and slipped a slender blade from its sheath.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Helena jolted awake, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and then did a double take. “Patsy?”
Her friend tucked her hands into the folds of her skirt. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I came to check on you.”
She scooted to a seated position. “No, no! I’m so glad you’re here! Grab a chair. How did you get here? I’ve been trying to find a way to see you and Henry. Is he here, too?” She had much to tell Patsy but didn’t know where to start and felt a little wary of the reaction she might get. Meeting Draconians in person hadn’t helped her friend overcome the aversion. If anything, the loathing had deepened. Will it change how she feels about me when she finds out I’m part dragon?
Henry would have been a good buffer. Dragons didn’t bother him. Like her, he’d adjusted.
“Henry didn’t come with me. He’s at the habitat.”
Something smelled like road kill too long in the sun. Helena wrinkled her nose. “How are you two getting along over there?”
“All right. They put you up in style. Marble, tapestries, gold fixtures, silk canopies.” She eyed the drape around the bed.
“I doubt it’s silk unless lava worms can produce thread.” Helena prattled, feeling uncomfortable. Patsy gave off an odd vibe. And what was that nasty odor? It reminded her of the time a rat had died in one of the air-conditioning ducts in the governor’s mansion.
“Whatever. The habitat isn’t nearly as opulent.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll speak to T’mar about getting you better accommodations. He’s moving me to the palace. I’ll see if you guys can move there, too.” She felt guilty her friends hadn’t been treated as well as she had, but since T’mar had claimed her as his mate, she might have some clout. “So, how did you get here?”
“By dragon. How do you think?” Patsy’s lip curled with disgust. “They told us you would die unless you got blood, so they flew us over here to see if we were a match. But you have a rare type.”
“Rhianna donated.” It was such a huge gift. She’d worried her friend would never forgive her, and then Rhianna literally saved her life. That had to mean they had a chance of rekindling their friendship, didn’t it? Their sisterhood. She and Rhianna were both descendants of the priestess. Perhaps that accounted for why they’d become such fast friends all those years ago.
“How fortunate. How are you feeling?”
“Good!” Better than ever. All residual weakness had vanished. Give her a transfusion, a nap, and some fyre, and she could run a marathon. She tossed back the cover and got out of bed, tightening the belt on her robe, noticing it was one Patsy had bought.
I’m so fortunate to have so many good friends watching out for me. Friends with resources, she thought, remembering how Patsy had provided her with a disguise and documents enabling her to board the spacecraft. Something niggled at her brain but darted out of reach when she tried to grab it. Suddenly, she felt uneasy. T’mar, I wish you were here!
What’s wrong mate? His voice popped into her head.
You heard that? She hadn’t meant to broadcast to him, but telepathy was so new to her. She felt guilty for bothering him just because she felt a little out of sorts. He had to meet with the king, for goodness’ sake!
You called out to me. Of course I heard. What’s wrong?
There’s nothing wrong. Just missing you.
Ah, mate, I miss you, too. I regret leaving. As soon as I mollify the king, I’ll be back.
Do what you need to do. We don’t want an angry king. My friend Patsy is here with me.
I’ll be as quick as I can.
“Is your neck okay? You’re holding your head at an odd angle,” Patsy said.
That came from listening to voices in your head! “I’m fine. Sit down—please. Stay a while,” she said. The elusive connection darted close then danced away again.
“Are you sure you should be up and around?” Patsy moved toward her. “That dragon bite on your neck looks severe. Let me help you back to bed. You lost a lot of blood.”
Blood! Blood. Her friends had been brought here to potentially give blood. Helena backed up a couple of steps. “You said Henry’s at the habitat. He didn’t come here with you?”
Patsy halted. “No, he couldn’t be here, but he sends his regards.”
“But you said they flew you both here to give blood.”
“They took him back when neither of us matched your type. I stayed to find out how you were doing.”
“Henry didn’t want to stay to find out what happened to me?” Since leaving Earth, they’d gotten to know each other better, and Helena had come to consider him a friend.
“Well, there was nothing he could do anyway. Besides, a man can’t remain in a harem. The dragon who brought him insisted on taking him back.”
Let it go. It’s nothing. But it didn’t smell like nothing.
The force inside that had danced with T’mar’s essence, her fyre, flashed bright. Hadn’t T’mar said lies smelled like decay? The dead-animal stench had increased along with some caustic odor smelling like…danger? She sidled away, putting distance between her and her friend. A chill traveled the length of her spine, filling her with dread. Her mouth suddenly dry, she licked her lips. “Patsy…how…how…did you get the required travel documents for me so quickly?”
The room grew so silent she could hear the drum of her heart. And then it was almost like watching a shift. Patsy’s face went blank, her eyes grew cold, her posture assumed an attack stance. “Actually, Biggs arranged for your passage.”
Pieces snapped into place—the tips passed on in violation of policy and confidentiality, Patsy’s willingness to risk her job and prosecution to assist her, supplies acquired with no difficulty. The documents. Coming with her to Draco.
“You work for Biggs.”
“Yes.”
“Henry?”
“No. When my ex-partner learned I planned to accompany you, he came to provide backup for me—and to help you.”
She’s going to kill me. Helena shook her head in disbelief. “Why? Why now?”
“Since your father assumes you’re safe, he’s grown a backbone.”
She backed away. Patsy’s eyes flickered, and she lunged.
Helena screamed and flung herself over the bed, but Patsy caught her ankle. Helena flailed her free foot, catching her in the face, but Patsy hung on. Metal flashed, and a knife came up. She’s going to cripple me, cut the tendons of my feet! Helena aimed and kicked hard.
Patsy’s nose spurted with blood, but she hung on.
T’mar! Help! Help! She’s going to kill me!
She swung a pillow as the knife plunged. The blade sheared through the cushion, slicing it in half. The motion loosened the grip on her ankle, and Helena somersaulted sideways off the bed.
Patsy bounded to her feet. Blood ran from her broken nose. Grasping the hilt of the blade, she raised the weapon over her shoulder, preparing to throw it.
A dragon roared.
T’mar rushed in.
Patsy spun around and threw the dagger.
He whirled. The blade missed him by a hair and hit the wall. The assassin pulled a throwing knife from her boot, raised her arm—
T’mar shifted. Not t
o full dragon but close enough to expel a burst of flame and engulf Patsy. A horrific shriek ended mid-scream as she was reduced to ash within seconds.
He shifted to demiforma and leaped over the bed. “I’m here, mate! I’m here.” He pulled her into a tight, safe embrace, but she couldn’t stop shaking. In a single day, she’d been attacked by a jealous dragoness and a trained assassin. “Sh-she was going to k-k-kill me.”
“It’s all right. You’re safe now.” He rocked her.
She clung to him, drawing strength from his strength. “H-how did you get here so fast?”
“I left right after we spoke. Something had scared you, and you are more important than a meeting with the king.”
A premonition. From the moment she’d awakened to find Patsy in her room, she hadn’t felt comfortable. And that odor. She hugged T’mar. “The king will be furious you stood him up again,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Never be sorry. You’re my mate. You come first, always.”
“I’ll handle the king.” The priestess appeared in her room—along with Henry.
“What happened? Are you all right?” Henry’s gaze shifted from her to the smoldering pile of ash.
“I am now.” She peered around T’mar’s shoulder to scrutinize Patsy’s ex-partner. She had said he wasn’t involved, but the woman’s entire life had been a lie. “Patsy tried to kill me.”
He recoiled as if she’d slapped him. “Patsy did? No. No. That’s not possible.” He shook his head. “No.”
Helena jutted her chin at the ashes and the knife lying among them. “She worked for Biggs. He ordered her to kill me.”
“She wouldn’t—I don’t believe—” He clenched his fists, and she could practically see pieces snapping into place, inconsistencies coming together. Sorrow like rain scented the air, mingling with the acrid odor of betrayal. Patsy had told the truth on this one; Henry hadn’t been involved.
The priestess made a move, almost as if to touch him, then dropped her hand.
“I had no idea.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t involved. I swear. I don’t work for Biggs.”