Rhys snorted. “I’m trying to figure out if it’s the fact the Druid was able to release some of Ulrik’s magic or the woman herself that has you acting so … strangely.”
“Con may have only asked me to watch the Druid, but she’s done what no others have. She has enough magic to undo our magic. Dragon magic is the most powerful on this realm. How was she able to do it?”
“I’ve a feeling you’re going to get to find out.”
“No’ me. I’m the one sent in to keep watch and protect. I’m no’ the one Con sends to befriend someone. That’s for those like you and Kiril.”
Rhys glanced at the sky and the few clouds that drifted past. “You may be just the right person this time, War.”
“She knows of us because of her association with Ulrik. It doesna matter how much or how little he told her. He’ll color his words to reflect himself in a positive light. She willna want anything to do with any of us.”
“She doesna have to know we’re Dragon Kings.”
He cut Rhys a look. “She’s a Druid. She’ll know.”
“We’ll see,” Rhys said as he walked away.
Warrick climbed the ladder to stand on the roof once more. He checked the streets again, but his gaze was drawn back to the window time and again.
The light shone like a beacon in the darkness. To his delight, her silhouette appeared once more. A long shirt stopping mid-thigh skimmed her lithe body. She pulled back the covers of the bed and climbed in before reaching over and cutting off the light.
Warrick still didn’t move. “Who are you, Druid?” he whispered. “How were you able to touch our magic?”
He didn’t want to be intrigued, or care about her as he did. His duty to Dreagan and the Dragon Kings was tested again in his compassion for the humans.
All he could hope for now was that no one realized just how much he cared about the mortals.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Darcy stumbled to the kitchen in her robe for a coffee. She’d slept very little as her conversation with Ulrik had been mixed with images of the dragon from her dream.
Not even a shower could help wake her. Afterward, she leaned against the counter sipping the hot liquid while her hair dried. She didn’t move until the mug was empty. Only then did she make her way to the wardrobe with a yawn. She opened the doors and looked over her clothes and groaned.
She wanted to be comfortable, but there wasn’t a single thing she had that she felt the urge to wear. With a loud sigh, she turned away and got the blow dryer. Not that she could do anything with her curls. They had a mind of their own, and no matter what hair product she used, her hair did its own thing.
After it was dry, Darcy looked in the mirror and winced. There were dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t normally wear makeup on a daily basis, but today certainly called for some. She concentrated on her makeup as she applied it. A quick glance to be sure she didn’t have mascara anywhere but her eyelashes and she returned to the wardrobe.
It was one of those days where she would stand in front of her clothes for hours and still not find anything to wear. So she grabbed the first thing she saw—a pair of black leggings. Darcy paired it with her favorite faded purple and black plaid flannel shirt.
Darcy added a cream long-sleeved tee beneath the shirt, letting both hang down to her hips. She then tugged on the pair of black leather Ugg boots with the lamb’s wool within that would keep her feet warm.
She was running late, so she threw on her jacket and purse, and grabbed an apple on the way out the door. It was halfway between her flat and the shop that she realized she’d left her jewelry. Darcy ate the apple and tugged her coat closed. The wind was fierce coming off the sea that morning. She was happy to be inside the shop after such a frigid blast first thing.
She tended to her plants, expecting to see Ulrik again, but she should’ve known better. He’d told her all he would. She would have to take it from there. After she finished with her plants, Darcy returned to the front of the store and flipped the OPEN sign over before unlocking the door.
She had a client coming that morning who hadn’t missed a week in five years. Dorothy MacAvoy was an elderly lady deeply rooted in the occult. She claimed to have ancestors who were Druids.
Mrs. MacAvoy wasn’t the first client to say such things, and Darcy never let anyone know she truly was a Druid. Mostly because the perception of a modern-day Druid was so far removed from what she really was.
Instead, she let Mrs. MacAvoy talk of the magic she felt was within her and how she wished she were born in a different century. Mrs. MacAvoy was sweet and always had a kind smile.
The door opened, and Mrs. MacAvoy stepped inside. She rubbed her hands together as she spied Darcy. “It’s a cold one, dear. I suspect we’ll get snow soon.”