Marked by the Dragon

by Kayla Wolf

  She tried not to think about it. Best to focus on what she could do for the war effort. If they were going to be attacked by coyotes, the more plans they had in place, the better. What she was worried about was the fact that she’d seen Caleb digging in the garden. He’d been in completely the wrong spot, of course, but what that behavior indicated was that the coyotes knew that the source of the water—and by extension, the garden’s health—was something that could be dug up and stolen. What if they snuck in in the middle of the night and figured out where the stone was and stole it? Where would they be then? Sure, David was on patrol, whatever that was worth—she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, after all—but what if the coyotes snuck through?

  It would make sense to hide the stone somewhere, at least for a little while. She spent a day or so scouting out likely areas in the vicinity, marking them on a map she’d made, and brought it to her father one morning. The old dragon looked distracted when he looked up at her—not a great sign, but she persevered.

  ”Dad, I’ve been thinking about the stone. I think we need to hide it.”

  He blinked at her. “Hide it? It’s already hidden—”

  ”Under a lake,” she said impatiently. “Not exactly the most secret spot. You can get at it by diving to the bottom, I’ve checked.” That had been a strange day. She’d dived into the lake, holding her breath to swim down to the bottom—and sure enough, there the stone had been, gleaming at the bottom of the lake. And if she could dive down and find it, so could the coyotes, if they snuck into the garden. How long would it take them to think of checking the lake itself? Not long.

  ”David sleeps by the lake. The coyotes won’t be able to get past him.”

  ”Caleb did, that first night,” she pointed out, suppressing the flare of emotion she felt at hearing the dragon’s name. “Snuck right past him in the hallway.”

  ”It’s fine,” Charles said absently. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine.”

  ”Dad, that’s not good enough. Let me take the stone somewhere else, hide it in the desert until all this blows over. The garden will be okay without the water source for a few days, right? I’ve found some good spots—”

  ”No, I don’t think that will be necessary. Good thinking, but you just—keep up your chores, keep up with your training.”

  ”Dad—”

  ”We’ve received word,” the older dragon said abruptly, cutting her off. “Word from the Oracle that a battle is definitely coming. In the next day or so. Reinforcements are coming to help us, too, but whether they’ll get here ahead of the coyotes is anyone’s guess.”

  Quinn stared at him, her ideas of hiding the stone receding to the back of her mind immediately as she came to terms with this new information. “The Oracle? You’re sure?”

  ”Yes,” Charles said simply. “I hope you’re ready.”

  ”Me too,” she said blankly. “Dad—we could just leave. We don’t need to do this. We could get the stone, fly out of here before anything—”

  ”No,” Charles said, and she ground her teeth at the tone in his voice. She was sick of that tone—the tone that meant there would be no arguments here. “This fight has been foreseen. It will come, one way or the other. We’ll keep each other safe.”

  ”Sure,” she said automatically, then walked out onto the patio, so full of frustration that she almost wanted to drive her fist through the stone wall. He was impossible. This was impossible. She didn’t want to fight the coyotes—they could have the whole damn farm as far as she was concerned. At the moment, the farm just felt like a prison—a place she was stuck, with all the horrible memories of not only her own isolated upbringing but now David, a person she’d almost fallen in love with before realizing…

  Well, never mind what she’d realized. Never mind what had almost happened. Never mind any of it. She had half a mind to go swimming again. Dive to the bottom of the lake, take the stone, fly to Colorado herself and refuse to take no for an answer until she and her father were rightfully installed on their property again. But no—she couldn’t leave him behind. Not if there was a battle coming. She didn’t know much about the Oracle and their prophecies, but she did know that if anything happened to her father while she was away, she’d never forgive herself. She just felt so trapped. Spending more time in her dragon form had only served to emphasize how trapped she really was. Strange, that a creature with wings, a creature with the ability to fly away from anywhere it pleased could feel so absolutely imprisoned.

  She was so full of frustration with her father as she stalked through the garden that when she saw David, she almost forgot how angry she was with him. He was walking down one of the paths, clearly heading back towards the lake where he was camping out, and before she knew it, their eyes had met, and she’d given him a curt greeting. Just ‘hello,’ but the smile that broke out across his face was like the sun bursting out from a raincloud. It was beautiful—and despite all her anger and frustration, despite her stubborn determination to hate him for as long as she lived… she felt her heart do a backflip.

  ”Are you okay?” he asked, hesitant but clearly determined to pursue the conversation. Quinn knew she should keep walking, ignore him completely, keep this line of communication closed… but God, she just wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t her father for once. So she gave in.

  ”Yeah, fine. Apparently, we’re going to be attacked soon.”

  He nodded. “So the Oracle says. Are you—ready?”

  ”Yeah. Whatever. At this point, I’d almost be happy if something happened.” She rolled her eyes. “Hate feeling stuck like this. Alone down here.”

  He nodded. “I know. I have—friends of mine are coming down, to help fight.” He shrugged. “Maybe you can—be friends with them.”

  ”Maybe.” God, this was awkward. A treacherous part of her kept suggesting stupid things—like throwing herself into his arms and never letting go, like flying away with him into the sunset, like forgiving him for everything he’d ever done. No, she thought, digging her heels in. No, she wasn’t going to be weak like her father. He had wronged her and her family, and he was going to suffer for it. “Whatever happens, we’re getting out of here soon. We’re going back to reclaim the land that belongs to us.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Whoever’s there.”

  ”It’s yours,” he said simply. “Of course it’s yours. Quinn, I’ve written to my father already. I’ll do whatever it takes to get your land returned to you, even if it means fighting my father. I promise you—” He took a deep breath, and she could see his eyes shining with emotion. Tried and failed to harden her heart against it. God, what was it about him that was so sincere, so genuine? It got right into every microscopic crack in her armor and threatened to break her apart. “I promise, Quinn, I had no idea the land was yours. I had no idea your family had such a history with my father. If I’d known I would have—”

  ”Would have what? Fixed it?” she snapped.

  ”Yes,” he said, spreading his hands. “Of course I would have. Me and my sisters—we’re not like him. We’ve spent our whole lives trying to lessen the damage he does. I’ve talked to my sister—Olivia, you’d like her. She’s already working on tracking down the paperwork William forged. Rosaline’s going to talk to the king and explain everything. Once this problem with the coyotes is sorted out, we’re going to fix what happened all those years ago, Quinn. I promise. If I can’t do anything else for you… I can do this.”

  ”Won’t he disown you?” she asked, reluctantly. She had to admit—what he was saying definitely sounded like the actions of a good person. He could be lying, she supposed. William was a liar. Like father, like son? But her protests sounded weak even inside her own head. Why was she being so stubborn, she wondered suddenly, a treacherous thought. Why was she resisting this man’s attempts to be kind to her, to care for her? Was she so hard-hearted?

  Was she like her mother?

  “Probably,” David was saying with a shrug. “But he was on t
he verge of doing that anyway. I’ve never been the son he wanted. But I can at least do something to mend some of the damage he’s done. It’s not much, but—”

  ”Yeah, well. A hundred years ago would have been better,” she said, trying to summon some anger to put into her voice and failing completely. She just sounded sad—and she could see David fighting with himself, clearly wanting to take her into his arms to comfort her. And what was worse, a part of her wanted that so desperately that she could almost cry.

  ”I know,” he said instead, simply, his eyes full of sorrow. “I wish I’d been paying more attention. I wish I hadn’t been running away, hiding from my family, hiding from everything that was going on. I’ve done a lot of damage through inaction. I thought hiding was a good way to avoid hurting people, but… well, my sisters paid the price, and so did you and your family.”

  ”Look,” she said abruptly, knowing that she needed to get away from him before she did something stupid like forgiving him. “I have to go. I have—things to do, a fight to prepare for, you know, all that wonderful bullshit, so…”

  ”Of course. Sorry to keep you.” He backed off, hands raised for all the world like she was pointing a gun at him, and hustled off up the path. Quinn realized with a burst of amusement that he’d gone back the way he’d come—was he planning on walking a completely different way to wherever it was he was going? Yes, she realized, he was. What an idiot. Pathetic, really, how accommodating he was being, how sincere he was in his apology, how kind, how sweet, how…

  She shut her eyes hard, walking blindly down the path towards the lake. She needed to clear her head. Needed to dive into the cold water and let it lull her into a peaceful place where she could think clearly for once in her life. It was impossible—her mind was so full of chaos, of ancient grudges and frustrations. How was she meant to cope with this? What was she meant to do? Was she being irrational, holding this grudge against David despite all the work he was clearly trying to do to make up for a crime that he wasn’t even responsible for? Was her father right? Was she guilty of the same black-and-white thinking that had been her mother’s greatest weakness? She’d spent so much of her life resenting her father, his weakness, his tendency to be passive, to forgive… but was it possible, now, that she’d gone too far the other way? Was it possible that she should take a leaf out of his book now, and extend an olive branch to David?

  Because no matter what she did—no matter how angry she tried to stay—she couldn’t fight the fact that deep down in her heart, she still cared about him. She couldn’t shake the memory of the night they’d spent together, of the feeling of his body against hers, of the glow of his brilliant green eyes from inches away as they’d moved together in the dark. She missed him so much that sometimes it was hard to breathe, even as she fought with everything in her to hate him.

  No matter how hard she tried, it seemed horribly, horribly inevitable... there was something between them that she couldn’t shake. They were connected, somehow, by fate. By the stars or something—she didn’t know how it worked. But she cared about him. She couldn’t stop caring about him. But she also couldn’t bring herself to go and talk to him, to apologize for freezing him out… her pride rebelled at that idea the instant she entertained it. So what was she supposed to do? Just suffer for the rest of her life, and probably wind up spontaneously combusting?

  Her head was spinning as she reached the lake, and she barely paused to shrug her outer layers of clothing off before she dove into its depths, welcoming the cold shock of water against her warm skin. For a long time, she floated, her eyes on the sunny sky and her mind slowly settling. She floated for an hour or so, trying to straighten her thoughts out… but to no avail. The whole situation was impossible.

  Well, one way or another, something was going to change. There was a battle coming. Best to focus on that for now. Once the coyotes were dealt with… then she could start trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do about David.

  Because like it or not, she just couldn’t shake the conviction that he was her soulmate.

  Chapter 15 – David

  It was the middle of the night when David woke up suddenly. It wasn’t unusual for him to wake up late at night—there were strange sounds, out in the desert this far. The wind howled over the walls of the garden, there was wildlife that made its presence known, and David was a dragon who’d spent his whole considerable lifespan in a completely different environment. So he was used to starting awake under the tree he’d been sleeping under, listening for a few minutes to ascertain that the sound was nothing to worry about, then drifting back to sleep. It had been three nights, now, sleeping out here… it was oddly comfortable, especially under the warmth of the sleeping bag. He’d gotten up a few times in the night, gone out into the dark to make sure that the sounds he’d heard weren’t an attack, but it had been quiet every time.

  He was starting to worry, he reflected as he lay under the stars for what felt like the dozenth time, listening hard to the sounds of the garden and the desert, trying to figure out what was wind and what wasn’t. He’d spoken to Amara a couple of days ago, sent her the co-ordinates for the farm… where was she? True, she had to bring people with her—he’d made the trip solo, and it had still taken him a while. Besides, he’d had the compass to follow, and he didn’t know exactly how it worked with following technology. Were some of her reinforcements on foot? He tried not to let himself overthink it, to worry that her war council hadn’t okayed the mission, that they’d be stuck on their own out here against the coyotes when they came.

  If they came. He was beginning to lose faith in the idea that there was a battle coming—if it hadn’t been for his trust in the Oracle, he would have been long gone. It was too painful being this close to Quinn. He knew it had only been three days. Back in the cabin, three days would’ve gone by in a heartbeat—once or twice he’d even forgotten to go to sleep for three days, so intent was he on a new book or a course of research. But now… now that he knew what he was without, now that he had an idea of how he could be spending these days if it weren’t for his father, for the terrible thing he’d done… well, it was agony. It was a small mercy that he rarely saw her, at least… but he didn’t need to see her to think about her. It was like she’d taken up residence in his chest, a glowing, aching point of pain that he couldn’t get away from no matter what he tried.

  And he’d tried a lot. He’d been training, for one thing—remembering the combat drills he’d been taught as a younger man had helped a little. He felt more comfortable in his body now, more sure of himself. Whether it would be any use at all when the battle came was anyone’s guess, but it was making him feel better at least. It was good to have something to focus on that wasn’t Quinn, the memory of her body under his hands, the smell of her hair, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing when she rested on his chest…

  Damnit. He sat up under the tree, annoyed with himself for letting his mind wander back there. Now he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep for a little while. Because as much as the training helped while he was doing it, it rarely had a lasting effect. Within the hour, he’d be back grinding his teeth over her, torn between desperation to catch a glimpse of her through the farmhouse windows, or determination to avoid the sight of her for the rest of his life. The idea of hope was intolerable, as much as Charles had seemed to hint that there might be a future for them—if he even allowed himself to consider it, the fire would consume him completely. No, the pain of rejection was overall a better feeling. He’d found the love of his life, and he’d lost her, and that was it for him. All he could do now was focus on the upcoming battle.

  Speaking of… he wrinkled his nose, listening hard. That was a strange sound. A kind of scraping sound, quiet enough that he wasn’t quite sure if he was imagining it, but difficult to place. Definitely not a sound he’d heard before… or had he? His mind drifted back to the first day he’d patrolled the garden when he’d climbed the walls to get a sense of how easy i
t was. That scraping… it sounded a little like the sounds his hand had made on the rough red stone.

  It felt like his whole body had been plunged into ice. He leapt to his feet, as quietly as he could under the circumstances, leaving the sleeping bag tangled on the ground as he made a swift and stealthy beeline for the closest of the walls. As he walked, careful to step only on the parts of the path that were bare of sticks or leaves that might crunch or clatter under his feet, he prayed desperately that the sound was a hallucination. It was too soon—who knew where Amara and her forces were? He’d reached out earlier that day and received only a message saying that they were on their way. What were they going to do if the attack came now?

  He hid behind a tree and peered around it—and felt his stomach sink through his toes. There, outlined against the moonlit sky—there was a humanoid figure perched on top of the wall, hunched over as though reaching down to someone on the opposite side. As David watched, the figure tensed and pulled something up and over the wall—he realized it was another figure, which leapt agilely over the wall and down onto the other side with a barely-audible thump. Standing around on the ground, their eyes on the figure on top of the wall, were at least ten figures, maybe more. At this distance, he couldn’t make them out—but he could see the dull gleam of their eyes in the moonlight. The familiarity struck him like a punch to the stomach. In the moonlight, every single one of them had eyes that gleamed like Caleb’s had.

  This was it. The attack was here. He had to warn Charles and Quinn—had to wake them, get them ready. He moved away through the trees as silently as he could, but his haste made him unwary, and he winced hard as a crack echoed through the garden. A branch, lying across the path—he’d stepped right on it. He heard the coyotes’ voices raised in alarm behind him, and he took off running as fast as he could, hoping that his familiarity with the garden would at least get him a head start on them. So much for stealth, he chided himself, his heartbeat pounding crazily as he ran. Two minutes into the cataclysmic battle and he’d already made a grave error.