by Rene Folsom
How many more could there be?
The last part of the afternoon drags on, and it isn’t until Langston tells me to take Tempie out that I perk up.
“Get off your feet, take her for a ride, and stay clear of the gardens,” Langston says as he helps me mount Tempie, who is quickly becoming one of my favorite horses. Tempie and I understand one another—kindred spirits. As a new rider, she should know I don’t like to go fast due to my inexperience, and I’ve been told she loves eating apples from the tree just outside the garden. It’s a mutual relationship.
Tempie has her own mind, and when we take off in a steady gallop, she makes her way over to her favorite apple tree, right in front of the damn garden. Langston warned me away, and I plan on listening—for now. I won’t go inside the garden, but I will allow Tempie to eat her apples.
“Too many apples are bad for my girl,” the familiar voice sounds in my head.
I’ve never tried to respond solely in my mind before, but it doesn’t hurt to give it a shot. I don’t respond with my mouth, though, but I do answer inside my head. “I didn’t realize Shadow Shire was yours. I thought this horse belonged to Graham?”
The voice doesn’t respond. Maybe it didn’t work? Or maybe he can only enter my mind and I can’t his.
“Don’t worry. It worked.”
“Then how come you didn’t respond?” I ask.
“I’m confused. You shouldn’t be able to do that.”
If I shouldn’t be able to do that, then why am I able? I continue to allow Tempie to eat the apples and feel like being on her back is second nature to me. “Can you explain why? Does it have to do with the brothers and what they were talking about the other day?”
“Yes, it does. But again, Greann is pregnant with Vulcan’s offspring.”
Why did everyone continue to fret over Greann and her pregnancy? “What does her being knocked up by Vulcan have to do with me being able to communicate with you in this manner? It’s not just dragon magic, is it? It’s something more?”
I don’t want to think about what this means.
“What do you think it means?”
I forgot he could do that. Trying to outwit a dragon was next to impossible. The beast chuckles, and it echoes inside my head.
“Why can’t I see you?” I wonder aloud.
“Do you wish to see me?” he asks. This time, his voice is right above me. Raising my gaze, I’m stunned to see he’s circling overhead even though his voice sounds close.
“How are you doing that?”
“Magic,” he rumbles. “Right now, only you can see me. No one else. It’s a talent of mine.”
I smile at the fact he has done something just for me.
“What’s your name?” I have a gut feeling I’m starting to come to an understanding on exactly who the dragon is. I’ve never seen them all at once, but what if…
“What if what?” the dragon rumbles above me before he comes to land a few feet away from Tempie and me.
“Nothing. Tell me your name,” I insist.
“You may call me Iyvar.”
Well, damn. There goes my theory. “That’s really your name?”
“Why would I lie?”
“And you’re of House Kincaid? Your eyes are blue, like Graham’s are. And you have scales to match.” The only difference is the dragon’s eyes are cat-like in nature. But the color matches Graham’s, that’s for sure. Both have intelligent, soulful eyes. I was so sure he and Graham are one and the same, and that this has something to do with the curse.
“You’re intuitive,” Iyvar remarks.
“I’m not clueless. While I was raised in the camps, I was properly schooled. I can read too.”
“How charming for you. I’d have it no other way of course. Intelligence is appealing.”
He’s wrong though. Intelligence isn’t welcome around these parts. Servants aren’t allowed to read books. We are meant for manual labor and being of service to the family we are assigned to.
“Let’s explore your thoughts further, shall we?”
“Don’t you think people will find it strange I’m conversing with myself?”
Iyvar chuckles.
“Probably, but I can offer you my cloak as well. We can even go into the garden without being seen. No one will know you’re there, and I’ll return you before Langston notices your absence.”
“I’m not sure I can trust you.”
I can’t tell if he’s frowning or not, but from his body movements it’s obvious he’s agitated with me.
“After I healed you? There must be a level of trust, Zhavia.”
The way he says my name makes my stomach flutter. It’s a gruff whisper that reached me to my core. I want to trust him, but past experiences are a constant reminder I shouldn’t trust anyone.
“I’ve learned long ago that trust is earned and not given,” I blurt out honestly.
“Agreed, and I feel I’ve already made a step in that direction by healing you. No one will see you, and I want to talk more and explore the scenarios running through your mind. I could make you come with me, but I prefer you come of your own free will.”
“What about Tempie?”
“She may join us. I know another favorite spot of hers near the roaring brook that sits at the edge of the garden on the north side. No one will bother us there.”
“Do I follow you?” I ask, because Iyvar couldn’t carry us both. I doubt Tempie would even allow him to touch her.
“No, she’ll follow us.”
Iyvar bent his long neck down to face level with me, unmistakably gesturing for me to climb on. This is beyond impossible. Who would have thought a few weeks ago I would end up on the back of a dragon? No one would believe me anyway, and I could never tell anyone. If anyone ever finds out, I’d die a thousand deaths. Dragons are sacred, even I know that.
Iyvar, for reasons unknown to me, has decided to not only speak to me, but also to heal my wounds. He wants to spend time with a nobody like me. His scales are smoother than I thought they’d be. They look metallic in nature, fragile, yet strong. My hand slides along his skin, feeling the soft surface and making his entire body shudder.
As I position myself in a good spot on his back, I consider promising I won’t touch him like that again, but I realize just how untrue that would be. It might seem odd, but feeling his scales, touching his warmth, felt good.
Finally settled, I’m positioned between three prong-like horns, one at my back and two in the front. My hands reach out and grab hold of the spikes. My skin warms, and the heat between my legs is a constant reminder I’m sitting atop a dragon.
“You can touch me like that anytime you want, little petal. No one has touched me like that in forever. It’s nice.” His tone is like a purr to my senses, and I idly wonder why I’m being called a little petal. “Sit tight. We shall be at our destination soon.” He looks down at the Shire. “Tempie, go to the brook.”
Tempie needs no more instruction as she shakes her head and barrels straight into the gardens—the one place I’m not to enter. Technically speaking, I’m not disobeying rules. Langston said to stay away from this place. Iyvar is of House Kincaid. A dragon trumps a stable hand any day I would think.
“I can’t be gone too long.”
“I’ll worry about that. No harm will come to you, I swear it.”
With a smooth flap of his wings, Iyvar takes off. From where I’m sitting on his neck, I feel nothing but the wind in my face. A cool breeze tangles with the heat of my skin as we soar above the trees. I look out over the distance we’re covering, spotting the entrance and exit of the garden. It’s not a garden, though, not like it looks on the ground. Instead, it’s a massive piece of land, complete with mountains and valleys. The garden itself is just a gateway to what’s beyond—a vast network of trees, rivers, and open fields as far as the eye can see.
A dragon could easily hide away in such an expansive paradise.
In my mind, I ask, “Is all of this land
part of House Kincaid?”
“Yes. This land has been in my family for centuries. Even before The Great Awakening.”
Everyone knows the story of The Great Awakening. The shift in Earth’s history happened when my mother was just a child. An earthquake split the lands, and in doing so, disrupted the great Atlantic Ridge. It’s the largest mountain ridge underwater in the Atlantic Ocean. It’s also where the dragons slept after the great war between humans and dragons.
The humans won, driving the dragons into the ridge. It wasn’t until the earthquake separated the lands that the ridge opened, waking the dragons and stirring their magic. It’s said that a dragon never forgets, and when they rose, they struck back at the offspring of their enemies. They cut the North American population by more than two-thirds. It wasn’t until they realized they were dying off that the selection process came into play. Dragons were cursed warriors of a forgotten era. They were men who were battle crazed and could not contain their passion for war. As a result, they were cursed to remain in dragon form. There were rumors that some could walk on two feet when darkness covered the earth, and only when they were paired with their true mate would they be set free. I had no idea they were cursed to this fate, though. The mere assumption I could be the key to their internal dungeon is foreign to me.
My mind detangles and tangles itself back together again. I was so hell bent on leaving, I didn’t pay any attention to what was in front of me. I’ve only ever seen Graham after the setting sun. Then again, I was with Drake this morning. It was the early part of the morning, and he did seem out of sorts. He was cloaked, and hadn’t wanted me to tell anyone he’d been around. When Drake found me in the hall, it was after my encounter with Iyvar. The sun had already set that day. Come to think of it, I only ever saw the brothers in the evening. I’ve never seen them all at once during the day.
I sift through as many different scenarios as I can, but it all comes back to the same thing.
The brothers must be dragons.
How else was I able to hear them inside my mind?
If Iyvar is reading my mind right now, he doesn’t let on to it. When we finally land, we’re perched on the side of a cliff with an opening to a cave and shielded by water. He walks through the water parts, allowing us entrance and keeping us both dry.
I don’t bother to hold back my gasp of surprise. It’s so beautiful—so mesmerizing.
Inside isn’t at all what I’d expect from a dragon’s lair. It’s warm, cozy, and it even has an enormous platform complete with silk pillows of all shapes, colors, and sizes.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” I ask as I take my time sliding down from his back. His front leg acts as an anchor as I find my balance on the ground.
“If you mean the pillows, yes. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. I even had some meats and cheese brought up from the kitchen.”
“Who brought them to you?”
Iyvar doesn’t answer for several long moments. “Does it even matter?”
No, I guess it doesn’t. But then again, whoever helped him could confirm my suspicions. “No,” I finally say with a small shake of my head.
“Have a seat.”
When I do, I immediately let go of a long sigh. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I settle into the plush surface. The pillows are soft and comfortable.
“How many more hours until the sun goes down?” I ask before realizing I should clarify why I want to know. “I… I don’t want Langston to worry about me.”
The dragon takes up a place on the platform next to the mound of pillows I’m on. He lets out a deep breath and turns to face me, his large blue eyes reflecting my image back at me.
What I see worries me. My face is flushed, my cap is long gone, and my hair… oh, man, my hair looks so very different. Even through the blue shine of his irises, I can tell the streaks in dark strands are now blood red, like the bright color that wells just beneath the surface of someone’s skin before it bubbles over and expels from a wound.
“Langston will not look for you. I’ve sent word.”
“When did you do that?” I’m trying to stay calm, but if anyone finds out I’m not doing my job, I’ll be punished for sure.
Iyvar speaks inside my mind as an answer. “I’ve sent him a mental push that you were called back to the main house. Don’t worry. He won’t be looking for you. No one will. Not for some time.”
I should be concerned. If no one will wonder about me, this monster could do whatever he wants, including kill me.
“Why did you want to meet with me?” I ask with a shrug. “Why not Greann?”
“Because Greann doesn’t intrigue me the way you do,” Iyvar says with a blink, so steady, so blunt.
“I’m just a game to you, aren’t I? A shiny new toy until you get bored… or worse… hungry.”
Iyvar chuckles, wrapping his tail against his body. “On the contrary, I think you’re much more than that. It’s the others who need convincing. You know, I would have kissed you first. I just didn’t want to seem all too eager. It would have caused suspicion. I wanted them to see for themselves what I already knew.”
“So I was right! You are Graham,” I say with a gasp. I should have known. It’s stupid I didn’t even think to try to put things together before today. My mind has been focused on one thing and one thing only—escape.
“I am,” he says solemnly. “Does that bother you?”
“No, but you need to know I’m not the person you think I am.” I can’t be. I’m not meant to be matched with a dragon, let alone five of them. What am I going to do with five dragon masters? Because that’s what they would be, lording over me, telling me what to do, and trying to sire their offspring on me so I could bring more of them into the world.
“I knew you the moment I saw you. That day when you saw Vulcan emerge from Greann’s chambers. I was the one who spoke to you. You may have run into him first, but it was me who laid claim to you first. I didn’t understand it in the beginning. But the more time I spent around you, the greater the feeling became.”
“What feeling?” The only thing I felt toward any of them at the time was contempt. They were the bane of my existence and the reason for my troubles. If not for them, my feet would not have been ripped to shreds and Greann would not have it out for me. The only time my emotions came into play and I felt even a tinge of hope when around them was when they were kind to me and involved in my welfare. I still feel a slew of mixed emotions ranging from angry, to hurt, even to hopeful. Of the five brothers, Graham always seems the nicest.
“My brothers no longer hunt. Not like I do. Their insights have been desensitized because of it. But I knew you by scent alone. At first, I’ll admit I assumed it was because you were standing by Greann’s door. You two came from the same camp, and I toyed around with the idea that you two shared similar scents. But when you fell from the tree and I caught you, the feeling intensified. My every thought is consumed by you.”
This is all too crazy, and not at all what I expected.
I blurt out the obvious. “Greann is with child. Vulcan’s child.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” he says with a shake of his large head. “Maybe she’s compatible, but I doubt it. We’ve all tried to invade her mind, and although we can mentally push her, she doesn’t respond the way you do. I’ve never heard her voice in my head.”
“Maybe I’m gifted?” I toss out, though I know it’s not true even as I say it.
Graham, well, Iyvar, lets out a bellowing laugh.
“Maybe, but it would only mean you’re our gift. It’s because of our magic you can speak to us in that manner. Why you felt how you did when you kissed me in the stable. You said it yourself… You felt a need.”
I did. It was a clawing need. A need to be closer, to not be left behind. I was more susceptible to Graham’s kiss than Vulcan’s. But both equally took me under a wave and left me breathless.
“I’ve never been kissed by a man before.
Of course I would feel a need. The emotion itself is new to me,” I explain in every attempt to understand what is happening.
“As it is for me as well.”
We stare at one another for long moments. Two large eyes to my normal, boring eyes. I feel like I’m being judged, that my soul is being invaded.
“If Greann is with child, she is the only one with the power to release you and your brothers.” If she’s pregnant, they will be shackled to her for life unless she comes forth to expel them from their responsibilities. Even I know they won’t walk away from the chance to breed and carry on their bloodline.
He nods. “Possibly, but not likely. Vulcan, Seneca, and William may not accept the truth, but Drake and I are convinced it’s you. We’re convinced you’re the one.”
My stomach flips with his words just before a grumble echoes through the cave. My lunch wasn’t much of anything accept for stale bread and lukewarm water.
“You’re hungry,” he says, stating the obvious. “You should eat.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
When I open my eyes, it takes me a moment to figure out where I am. I’m in the cave, an eerie quiet surrounding me. I stuffed myself on meat, cheese, and wine, and must’ve fallen asleep.
While I ate, Graham told me tales of the old days, days when he was able to walk around on two feet day and night. He told me stories about how he was in his dragon form. He was known as Iyvar, the bringer of death. He and his brothers are the last remaining Royals of Clan Tarragon. There were five clans in all, with Tarragon reigning over the North American colonies. All five clans were in control of the lands until the great rift. There were some who were for living in peace with humans, and others that felt the only good human was a dead one.
Hearing him talk and finding out his family was on the side that wanted my kind dead didn’t make things easier. But as we talked, I came to rationalize both sides of the story. Dragons were known hoarders of their treasures, and humans were known for their greed and unrelenting need to conquer all things. The war would have happened either way. But it still doesn’t change facts. My kind are treated like animals now. Like lower life forms. None of it is acceptable.