Dragon's Blood (The Dragon's Gift Trilogy #2)

“I’m yelling as loud as I can,” Lucyan said crossly. “I’m not used to being a herald.” Or an apprentice, for that matter, he thought to himself, but there was nothing he could do about that. The tinkerer was a good friend of Shadley’s, and sneaking into the elven kingdom under the guise of being his apprentice was an excellent disguise, since the tinkerer was one of the few humans allowed to travel freely between the kingdoms. The elves could not work normal metals due to their inability to tolerate it, and yet mithril was too costly to spare on pots and pans and the like, so they allowed humans like the tinkerer to come in and peddle their wares. The tinkerer was especially popular amongst the human population—elven households could only tolerate a limited number of the tinkerer’s wares, but the humans had no such issue.

“Mr. Haveshamer,” a little girl cried, scampering out of a nearby house. She wore a pale pink dress, and her dirty blonde hair was pulled back from her adorable round face into pigtails. “Do you have any lollies today?”

“For you? Always.” The tinkerer gave her a jovial smile and plucked one of the candies from a tin. “That’ll be a haycopper,” he said.

The little girl gave him the money, and as she scampered away, more children came out of their homes, along with their parents. Before Lucyan knew it, they were doing a brisk business, housewares practically flying off the cart. By the time they made it through the rest of the town, they’d offloaded a good tenth of their wares.

“Not bad,” the tinkerer said approvingly as he counted the coins in the till. “We’ll eat well tonight, Ramsey,” he said, using Lucyan’s assumed name.

They stopped at the local inn—a two-story establishment with eight rooms and a small, cozy pub. While the tinkerer sharpened his knives, Lucyan unhitched the mule from the cart. As the animal drank from the trough next to the small stable behind the inn, Lucyan idly listened to the two inn staff members smoking pipes out back. He had no fear of anyone recognizing him—the charm Shadley had given him had turned his red hair dull brown, his amber eyes slate gray, and his features bland and unassuming. No one would guess that he was a dragon prince, especially not in the rough, patched-up tunic he wore.

“We’re going to have to turn her out, you know,” one of the men said ruefully. “She has no coin left for her meals, never mind the room.”

“Aye,” the second man said, “but I feel bad, turning her out when she’s so ill. She was limping when she came in, but at least then she still looked as though she could crack a few skulls, if need be. Now she can barely walk out the door. We’d have to drag her.”

“Which would be no mean feat,” the first man said. “I’ve never seen a woman so tall and muscular. I thought she was a man before she lowered her cloak.”

Lucyan froze. A tall, muscular woman, sick as a dog…could it be? It had been several days since he’d left Dragon’s Keep, and though under normal circumstances Tariana would have reached Castle Sunstone by now, she would be hampered by the anti-dragon spell. Quickly, he stabled the mule, then went through the back door of the inn. Now that he was paying attention, he picked out Tariana’s scent easily—it was faint, down here on the lower level, but as he crept up the stairs, it grew stronger, along with the scent of blood and rot.

“Blast it,” Lucyan growled. He fished a set of lock picks from his pocket and opened the door. Inside, Tariana lay on the narrow bed in nothing but her underthings, her skin flushed and coated with sweat, her face contorted in agony. She’d dyed her hair brown, and had likely used the cloak hanging over her chair and the makeup smudged on her face to hide her features, but Lucyan would recognize her anywhere. Her left thigh, wrapped in a bloody bandage, emitted a terrible odor. The wound had not been treated properly, and with the anti-dragon spell hampering her ability to heal, rot was setting in.

Lucyan approached slowly, doing his best not to startle his sister, but even so, her eyes flew open, and she shot upright, a dagger clenched in her fist. “S-stay back,” she stammered, her eyes wide and her body trembling.

“Shhh.” Lucyan pulled the charm ring off his finger, revealing his natural form. “It’s me, Tari.”

“L-Lucyan?” Tariana dropped the knife and went limp. Cursing, Lucyan yanked the amulet, which he wore on a leather cord around his neck, over his head and placed it over Tariana’s. Unscrewing the cap on his canteen, he brought it to her lips and gently coaxed her to drink.

“There now,” he said as her temperature began to cool. “You’re all right.”

“Thank you,” she gasped, wiping her mouth with her hand as she leaned back against the pillows. “How did you find me?”

“The staff were talking about a sick woman,” Lucyan said, sitting down on the edge of the rickety bed, “and I figured out it was you from their description.” Sighing, he smoothed a sweaty strand of hair from his sister’s face. “What did you do to yourself, Tari? You look like shit.”

Tariana cracked a smile. “You haven’t called me that since you barely came up to my knee,” she said. The fond look in her eyes made Lucyan vaguely uncomfortable.

“Yes, well, seeing one’s sister on her deathbed can do strange things to a man,” Lucyan said. “What in blue blazes happened to your leg?” he asked, twisting around to take off the bandage. Now that Tariana’s powers weren’t being hampered anymore, the wound would heal better if it was exposed to the air rather than suffocated by these nasty strips of linen.

“I was trying to rescue Ryolas,” she said bitterly. “I flew as fast as I could to reach him—Shadley’s spies reported he was held in Fort Arrowhill. I made sure to stay high above the clouds so the elves would not notice me, but as I approached the fort, the same magic Arolas used to defeat our sisters took hold of me, and I was forcibly changed back into a human. I landed hard on the roof and impaled my leg on one of the spikes. It was one of the most excruciatingly painful moments I have ever endured, and as I lay there, waiting for an opportunity to escape, I overheard the soldiers mention that Ryolas had been bundled off into a cart several hours before I arrived. They’re taking him to the capital,” she said in a choked voice, her eyes gleaming with tears. “He’ll be executed there.”

Lucyan winced. “I’m so sorry, Tari.” He tossed aside the ruined bandages so he could take her frail hand in his. “How did you escape?”

“A combination of luck and sheer grit.” Tariana covered her pain with a grim smile. “The fort was hosting a party to celebrate their great ‘victory’ over Dragonfell, and many of them were drunk. A guard heard me land on the roof, and when he came up to investigate, I killed him and took his clothes. Once I was certain no one was around, I snuck down to the stables and stole a horse. He’s in the stable.”

“Amazing.” Lucyan shook his head in wonder. He wasn’t sure if he had the fortitude to endure what she had—he was no weakling, but neither was he a soldier. “I am on my way to Castle Whitestone now to break Dareena and Alistair out. I will do what I can to free Ryolas as well.”

“Castle Whitestone?” Tariana gasped. “Lucyan, it is even more dangerous for our kind there than it is at Fort Arrowhill. You will be slaughtered if they catch you!”

“I’m well aware, but I do have the advantage of the amulet,” Lucyan said. “Besides, the dragon god is watching over me. I know it will turn out all right.”

Tariana gave him a skeptical look. “You’ve never been one to place your faith in the gods.”