chapter Fourteen
There was a bustle at the large doorway and moments later a striking woman entered the hall. She was stripping off her gloves as she approached with a wide smile on her lovely face.
“Ah, they’ve come then. Welcome, all of you!”
Gryffid stood and kissed the lady’s cheek in greeting. “Let me introduce my granddaughter, Gwen. Gwen, this is Krysta, Drake and Mace. The beautiful lady behind Drake is Jenet and I bet you saw Nellin on your way in, didn’t you?”
She smiled brightly. “It’s why I came back early. A strange dragon above Gryphon Isle is a curious sight indeed.”
The men stood and bowed formally to the lady as Krysta watched. The girl was about her age, she judged, with golden-blond hair and an angel’s face. Krysta wanted to hate her for her perfect beauty and the attentiveness of her new mates, but Krysta found she couldn’t. This Gwen seemed to have no idea of her effect on the men and, as Krysta watched carefully, did nothing to encourage it.
Still, the way their eyes followed the other woman’s every move annoyed Krysta. Her toe started tapping in agitation, but other than that, she kept her face schooled to calmness. It wouldn’t do to let them see how jealous she was.
“I was out hawking, but it was growing dark, so I headed for home. Then I saw the dragons in the distance.” The blond beauty walked to the fireplace and the waiting gryphons. She smoothed their neck feathers with obvious fondness as she threw her cloak and gloves over a nearby chair. “We seldom have visitors.” She almost looked sad for a moment, but Krysta decided it must’ve been a trick of the flickering firelight. “I’ll go down to the kitchens and see about dinner. I’m sure the entire keep knows about our visitors by now, of course, but I’ll ask them to serve dinner a bit early. I can see you’re all tired from the crossing.” Her sympathetic gaze alighted on each one of them, ending with Krysta. A little nod of understanding passed between the women, and Krysta suddenly realized the other girl wasn’t totally oblivious to the effect she had on males of the species. Without waiting for comment, Gwen left.
Krysta had seen her kind of magic before. Every few generations, a Jinn woman would be able to channel her magic in such a way as to affect each and every male around her. Most thought it a fable, but Krysta knew from firsthand experience how dangerous a magic it really was.
She’d known just such a girl in her clan. The beauty had every man in the clan panting after her, but they protected her as well. She inspired fierce loyalty in every male she met, but that girl’s selfish nature had nurtured hatred from the other women. She brought divisiveness to a clan that had always been fiercely loyal to each other. Finally, the leader decided marriage to a reclusive nobleman would be the best solution. The girl had to be exiled for the good of the clan, but she didn’t mind. She became a duchess and quickly put her new, rich husband under her spell, along with all the menfolk in his domain.
This Gwen didn’t seem selfish in the least, but Krysta was reserving judgment. She would watch and listen closely. She didn’t quite fear losing her bonded mates to the beauty, but she certainly didn’t like the way they watched her. Krysta had only just joined with them. Was she so forgettable that both Drake and Mace would begin to ignore her so soon? She almost expected it of Drake, with his rogue’s reputation, but certainly not Mace. He’d seemed so steady and stable.
Krysta must have frowned as she thought, for suddenly she felt two warm hands grasp both of hers, one on each side. She looked up from her depressing thoughts to find Mace—and Drake—each holding one of her hands, smiling at her in a comforting, loving way.
“She really can’t help it, you know.” Gryffid intruded on the shared moment. Krysta looked to the wizard who watched the retreat of his granddaughter. “It’s her great-grandmother’s power. Each of my grandchildren descended of my brief affair with Luna have been irresistible to humans of the opposite sex. Luna’s magic is of the moon and the tides. She can also tug on the emotions, lust most of all. I’ll admit, Luna ensnared me for a time.” Gryffid shook his head. “We had a son named Rigel. He had—and still has—his choice of women, but he chose a human mate many centuries ago and when she eventually died, she broke his heart. Gwen is their grandchild. Luna’s influence was strong in the girl, so they sent her to me for her own good. I have few humans here on the island and most are impervious to her magic because I have bespelled them so. Rather ironic, that. Using magic to negate magic, eh? But it works.”
They didn’t have time to comment as a group of servants and Gwen herself arrived with a series of steaming platters and dishes. The servants were unlike any people Krysta had ever seen. They were tall, stately beings, with icy-blond hair and perfectly chiseled features. They looked human—except for their delicately pointed ears.
They reminded her of Jinn fairytales, and her heart sped a pace as she realized she was beholding fair folk!
“We’ll start with this,” Gwen said as she took a seat next to Gryffid, “and the rest of the household will join us shortly. I know the three of you are probably quite hungry after the crossing.” A platter of bread with dipping oils and creamy butter was placed near the three travelers as the fair folk set the tables quickly and efficiently. They made little sound and smiled back when Krysta thanked them. They seemed friendly—not the powerfully scary beings of Jinn legend.
Krysta’s stomach rumbled with hunger as she dug into the delicious breads. Some of the little loaves were black, some brown with spices and seeds of different kinds, but all delicious. She ate as daintily as she could, considering her ravenous hunger, but by the time she looked up, the entire hall was filled with tables, set with plates and platters of all kinds of things. People were filing in—more of the fair folk, for almost every single one had a fair complexion and varying shades of blond hair. They chatted amiably as they went to their tables, and Krysta noted more than a few warriors among their ranks.
Nellin walked in behind William and two of the fiercer-looking warrior folk, heading straight for their table. William kissed Gwen on the cheek before he took his place on Gryffid’s other side, and Nellin went to his mate, twining her neck with his as he settled behind Mace. Behind her, the two dragons made an impenetrable wall of protection for the three of them.
“Where did all those other tables come from? And the chairs?” Krysta finally asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
Gryffid’s eyes twinkled. “Magic, my dear.”
Two imposing figures stood at Drake’s side of the table, waiting, apparently, for introduction. Both were fair folk, but of a more muscular tone than the servants she’d seen. Both wore leathers, and their hair was bound back in the style of warriors.
Drake and Mace stood, as did Krysta. She was a Guardswoman and had been a warrior of the Jinn even before settling in Castleton. The fair warriors were male and female, a matched set. Krysta took the female’s measure while her mates eyed the male, and she found herself filled with respect. These were not frivolous folk, wearing their leathers for show. No, she could tell at a glance these were true warriors.
Gryffid rose to make the introductions. “My friends, these are my Captains of the Guard, Lilith and Gerrow.”
“Two captains?” Mace asked, cocking one brow in question.
Gryffid laughed. “They are a mated pair. I couldn’t let one outrank the other, now could I? Never let it be said that I was the cause of disharmony among mates.” Both warriors smiled as Gryffid laughed and returned to his seat.
“I’m Drake.” The bard offered a smile and a hand in the way of warriors, close to the other couple as he was. “This is Krysta, Mace, Jenet and Nellin.” The dragons’ heads rose over the backs of their chairs, blinking in acknowledgment.
“Well met,” Gerrow’s voice rolled over them as he bowed briefly to the dragons.
“We were foretold of your coming,” Lilith said from his side, her voice higher pitched and every bit as musical, “but nothing could prepare us to see two such dragons over our island. They are a sight to behold.” The pair took seats at the table and made themselves comfortable.
As far as Krysta was concerned, the woman was all right. No one could fake the admiration and awe in Lilith’s voice, and anyone who admired Nellin and Jenet had good judgment, in Krysta’s opinion.
“We’ve had the pleasure of helping to train young William these past years. We’ll be sorry to see him go.” The male warrior dug into a platter, serving himself from the bounty laid on the table. The others followed suit.
“Then you’re letting him go?” Mace addressed Gryffid.
“Yes, of course, Sir Mace. It was never my intention to keep him indefinitely. I only borrowed him for a few years.” The wizard chuckled but Krysta watched William’s face. He seemed troubled, though he kept his eyes down and his attention on his plate as the conversation flowed around him.
After the main meal was served, a place was cleared in the middle of the hall and a few of the fair folk brought out instruments. They began with soft tunes while the rest of the hall was cleared, warming up a bit as the last stragglers finished their meals and sweets were laid on each table for those who wished to partake.
Lilith eyed the minstrels then turned to Drake.
“Perhaps you would favor us with a song?”
Her mate, Gerrow frowned. “A bard? I thought he was a knight.”
“Apparently—” Drake raised his eyebrows, “—I’m both.”
Lilith put one hand over her mate’s on the table. “Beloved, don’t you recognize Drake of the Five Lands?”
Gerrow’s fair face flushed. “Forgive me. Is this true? You are the famous Jinn bard?”
“One and the same. Being partnered with Jenet is rather new to me, so your pardon if I don’t quite see myself as a ‘knight’. I have little training in the ways of dragon knights, though I’m hopeful Mace and Nellin won’t mind helping me learn my new role.”
Mace almost cracked a smile as he nodded, though Nellin didn’t stir from where he lay, neck entwined with his mate. The poor creature was besotted with Jenet, and who could blame him?
“We’ve heard many of your compositions, brought back to us from those who venture off the island from time to time.” Lilith’s eyes sparkled at Drake, but Krysta didn’t fear the beautiful woman would even try to turn his head. Lilith and she were equals. Warrior women who understood each other. That much was clear.
Drake looked uncertain. “I doubt I could entertain any better than your people. Fair folk are reputed to have the most beautiful voices in the world. I don’t think I can compete.” A sheepish smile softened his refusal, but Krysta heard the very real doubt in his words.
“What’s this? Drake of the Five Lands, uncertain about his talent?” Gryffid scoffed. “You’re a natural bard, my boy. Don’t let these blond fools intimidate you. The ones who go abroad all return singing your praises and your songs.” The wizard winked, smiling conspiratorially.
“Well…” Drake actually flushed, color riding his chiseled cheekbones, surprising Krysta, “…if you’re sure. And if someone could loan me an instrument, I’d be happy to give you a song.”
“It’ll be more than one, if I’m any judge.” Gryffid chuckled as Drake stood and made his way to where the minstrels had set up. Krysta watched him go with pride. She knew his reputation was well earned and she had even heard him perform once or twice in the distant past, though she hadn’t heard him recently. She was looking forward to his performance, knowing this time, this special man was hers.
Drake walked the gauntlet of tables filled with fair folk. It was disconcerting to say the least, but their friendly smiles and encouraging looks were familiar. He’d seen just such looks on the faces of tavern patrons and courtiers the world over. They were eager for entertainment, eager to hear him sing and tell his tales through music. His only job was to not let them down.
He’d never doubted his ability. Not since he was a teen and just learning his skills. But he doubted now, though he fought to not let it show. The speaking voices of the fair folk had enchanted him. He could only imagine what they sounded like in song. He didn’t think any human could hope to compete with such natural beauty, but he was damned well going to try. He would not bring shame to his own name or to his new family. He would give the finest performance any human bard could give and if he failed to please the fair folk, well, then, he’d given it his best.
The minstrels grinned in welcome and made a place for him at their center.
“I am Zarat,” another man introduced himself. He had golden-blond hair, not too much lighter than Drake’s own, though his skin tone was much fairer. “I’m honored to meet you. My wife had the good fortune to hear you play once in Helios when you were just a boy. Even then, she was impressed with your music.”
“Thank you.” Drake reached back in his mind for that long-ago trip to Helios. He’d only been about sixteen when his adopted Jinn clan had traveled to that distant land. Drake hadn’t returned there until just a few years ago, so Zarat must have been talking about that first trip, when Drake was still quite new to life as a Jinn minstrel. “Hopefully I’ve learned a thing or two since then.” Drake smiled, making an effort to charm the fair folk, who listened intently to every word he spoke.
“My wife, Margan, will be up in a moment. She plays pennywhistle. She’s just gone to fetch it from our home.”
“I look forward to making her acquaintance,” Drake answered politely.
“Which instrument would you prefer, Master Drake?” He swept his arm around the semi-circle of musicians who each held various instruments aloft in a signal they were willing to share with the newcomer. Drake was flattered by their offers. He knew what it was to let a stranger play a beloved instrument made just for you.
“A lute, if you have one. Though I will play anything you wish me to, if you have a preference.”
Drake would come to regret those impulsive words later in the evening as one instrument after another was thrust into his hands, but he took it all in good humor. He started with the lute, checking the tune automatically and marveling at the sweet, mellow tone of the lower string and the sparkling clarity of the upper. This was far and away one of the finest instruments he had ever had the pleasure of holding.
“My compliments to the luthier,” Drake remarked as he began a few warm-up fingerings and runs. The hall quieted as everyone listened. Drake knew he was the center of attention. He’d been in the same position many times before, but this was special somehow. The air vibrated with waiting. He took his time, limbering up fingers that hadn’t played in days.
When he was sure of himself, he began the introduction to one of his livelier compositions. It was a dance of sorts, though the lyrics told the story of an amorous young man and the fickle maiden who teased him. It sat well in his vocal range and was a particularly good warm-up. He knew he could sing it well, and if they wanted a second song after this, he would be in a good position to try something more challenging.
Drake launched into the lyrics, watching the faces of those around him. Smiles met his gaze, and toes were already tapping. So far, he was getting a good response. It wasn’t just polite humoring, it was genuine enjoyment he read in their unconscious movements, the swaying of the crowd to the beat and the light in their eyes.
He was doing it. He was hitting his stride as the verses went on. At the humorous points in the song, the crowd laughed with him, caught up in the tale as so many had been before. When it came down to it, this audience was much like those he’d known before, just much prettier.
Drake relaxed as the tune ended with a flourish and was met with cheers from the fair folk. Zarat clapped him on the back, encouraging him to play another and Drake complied. This wasn’t so bad, really. He’d been concerned, but it looked like the fair folk did appreciate a rough human voice. For certain, they appreciated his songs. They laughed at all the right places and tapped their toes. Several couples started dancing when he played a lively reel and the other musicians joined in, adding drums, bass, Margan’s pennywhistle for trills and a score of other instruments all blending into a marvelous harmony of sound as the crowd danced.
They took a short break after about twenty minutes, and Zarat introduced all the members of their impromptu band. Drake shook hands with each and every one, amazed by the welcome he read in their eyes. He’d never played with finer musicians. Each was an artist.
Zarat saved his wife for last, and she gave Drake an unexpected hug. When she pulled back, there were tears in her lovely, pale eyes.
“You’re even more blessed than when I first heard you sing as a lad. Zarat didn’t believe me when I spoke to him of the human bard who had impressed me so. He thought it must be a Jinn mage, but I knew better. There was no magic in your song, only pure, raw talent. I’m glad to see it’s been nurtured and grown to such a level.”
Drake was humbled by her words, especially since he knew her own talent was incredible. She’d sung lilting descant harmonies with him just moments ago that threatened to mesmerize him so much he’d almost forgotten his own part of the song. She was a master not only of the pennywhistle, but of her amazingly delicate voice. That such a talented woman would compliment him meant more than he could say.
He told her as much, pleased when she blushed. “Oh, I’ve had more time than you’ll ever know to perfect my craft. That you humans do so over such short lifespans never ceases to amaze me. But then, you’re a knight now, and your dragon will grant you longer than normal life, but it is still short compared to our own.”
The thought startled him. His gaze shot to Jenet. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“We’re good, Drake. Mace is his usual silent self, but your lady is befriending the warrior woman in between listening to your songs. I don’t think they were prepared for how good you really are.” The dragon preened a little over the heads of the crowd and Drake felt her pride in him.
“Would you play ‘The Golden Beauty’, Sir Drake?” Margan regained his attention. “It’s one of my favorites that you’ve written.”
“It would be my honor,” he replied, as the minstrels sat once more. Everyone in the hall seemed to take that as a sign, and they settled down as well. Drake stood forth, in front of the group, addressing the crowd.
“I’ve been asked to sing one of my favorite songs for you.” He began to play the opening bars, instantly recognizable to those who’d heard it before. A hush fell over the crowd and eager faces turned to him. “But I think it safe to tell you, though only one other in all the lands knows this fact. ‘The Golden Beauty’ of whom I sing isn’t a human woman, as all seem to believe. Rather, she sits there, by the fire, with her mate. She is my sister, my fighting partner, my dearest Jenet, the dragoness.”
The crowd looked over as the stunning, peach-gold dragon blinked in surprise as she was singled out. She was so beautiful, even among the fair folk she stirred hearts to tears. She winked at Drake and the crowd sighed. It was clear the beauty was enjoying every moment of their attention, as was her knight. They were well matched indeed. Drake blew her a kiss as he settled into the song. His voice rang pure and true as he sang of the beauty who’d claimed his love, though it broke his heart to leave her.
Drake was pressed to play almost every song he’d ever written and he switched instruments a few times as well. The minstrels seemed to want to test his limits, pushing to see how good he was with their instrument each time he switched to something new. A friendly competition Drake had experienced many times among the Jinn minstrels he’d learned from soon evolved and he felt more and more at home among these fair-haired beings.
“He has the voice of an angel,” Lilith remarked, still seated at the head table while the band took a quick break. “Didn’t I tell you, beloved?” Mace noted the way she squeezed Gerrow’s hand as a teasing light entered her eyes.
“You did indeed, my dear. Tell me, where comes a human bard by such talent? He’s better even than our best. Do you see the way they all look at him?”
“He learned from the Jinn, mostly, though they say he was already quite skilled when he was taken in by the Black Dragon Clan as a teen.” Krysta turned questioning eyes to Mace. “Did he play much when he was growing up?”
Mace cleared his throat, thinking back to those early years. “He was always musical. His mother gave him his first lute and taught him to play it. Sir Ren helped too, though Sir Declan, his blood-father, never had much patience for music.” Mace remembered the way Declan would scold his son for wasting time playing tunes. The older knight had been proved wrong and seemed to handle it well, but the fact remained, if not for the undue pressure he’d placed on his son, Drake would probably never have left home at such a young age.
“Who is his mother?” Gerrow’s eyes narrowed.
“The lady Elena.”
“And is she beautiful, by human standards?”
“Quite.” Mace cocked his head, wondering where the fair warrior was leading him. “She is fair of face and form and has a lovely singing voice.”
“I wonder…” Gerrow looked at Gryffid and as Mace turned, he realized the wizard was deep in thought. “He is descended of wizards, but what of our race? There is much about him that seems familiar.”
“Alas, my friend, you stumble upon something I had only begun to suspect.” Gryffid nodded. “I followed the bloodline of Draco to Darius, then Declan, and thence to Drake, but I wonder exactly where the fair Elena comes from? It could be she has fey blood in her somewhere along the line. That would explain much.”
Mace felt his stomach sink. Would they never stop finding things to make Drake remarkable? How could a mere mortal ever hope to stand beside a being who proved more magical with every passing moment?
Hiding his worry behind his usual stony façade, Mace pretended to enjoy the evening. In truth, he did like Drake’s music very much. You’d have to be a stone statue not to enjoy Drake’s skill with an audience and seemingly any instrument he was handed. It was pleasant to watch, and when Krysta grabbed Mace’s hand and dragged him into the dancing, he let go of his worries altogether, marveling at her vivacious zest for life and sunny laughter. He could learn a thing or two from her about how to live in the moment.
What had started as dinner turned into a party, and though Drake was kept busy with the minstrels, Mace and Krysta enjoyed themselves as well. They danced a few times and listened with the others when Drake sang some of his more poignant ballads. Mace learned a great deal about his new fighting partner in those hours and he learned a lot about himself as well.
Try as he might to be angry or jealous of the boy he’d grown up competing with, those days of competition were long gone. Drake was an entity unto himself, as was Mace. They’d each followed their own paths in life and somehow wound up walking beside each other, with Krysta between them. Mace thanked the Mother of All for that miracle as Krysta teased him and made him laugh. She was a joy. She was his world—as much as Nellin, and now Jenet and Drake. Together they would find a way to deal with the puzzle Drake’s background represented.
In those hours of fey celebration, Mace came to terms with his new family and the future that might await them. He accepted what he was—a damn fine knight of Draconia—and didn’t begrudge Drake the new discoveries that set him apart from all other knights and even his Jinn brethren. Drake was unique. But then, Mace could have told them that when he was just a lad. Drake had always had something special about him. It was why Mace had tried so hard to emulate him, in his way, but Mace accepted now, he would never be able to do so.
“Why so quiet, Sir Mace?” Gryffid had come to stand next to him while he watched Gerrow dance with Krysta. “I know it is your usual way, but tonight you are very silent, even for you.”
Mace regarded the wizard, still unsure how the man knew so much about everyone and everything. Finally he shrugged, just accepting…for now.
“It’s a lot to take in.”
“Ah.” The wizard nodded. “I thought as much. But you seem to be handling all this rather well. Many other men would be raging or green with envy. I begin to see why you are here after all. It is clear a being of such light needs an anchor to the here and now. You and Krysta serve that purpose—but you most of all, Sir Mace. You will be his brother-in-arms, his fighting partner. It is for you to show him the way knights fight together. You will show him how to be part of a team, and part of a family.”
“I honestly don’t know if I’m up to that task, sir.”
“Nonsense!” The wizard laughed at him. “You are or the Mother of All would not have seen fit to put you in this equation. You must believe that. Without a strong tie to the land and the human race, I fear Drake will be lost. You are that tie to Draconia and humanity. Krysta is the binding to love and Jenet and Nellin will ground him in his fire. It is a perfect, delicate balance. A thing of beauty, indeed. Do not belittle it and do not fear it.”
“I fear little in this world, sir.”
“That’s the best thing about you, Mace. You don’t show fear, but I know you are aware of true danger. You will not lead any of your new family into more than you can handle. That is your skill and your point of pride. Common sense that the others sometimes lack. Do not discount it.”