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

“I don’t know.” Dareena’s stomach knotted at the very thought. She was sick at the idea of Alistair down there, all alone, likely living off moldy bread and water while he wasted away. “But he was in very bad shape when we arrived, shaking and with fever. I know he’s a dragon, but even he cannot withstand such sickness forever.”

“I will speak to my father, but I’m afraid I cannot promise anything. He has shut me out completely—Ryolas was brought back yesterday, and he refused to listen to my pleas to visit him. The only person he will listen to is Arolas, which troubles me greatly. It is not like Father to sit back and let others make decisions for him.”

“Grief does strange things to people,” Dareena said, though she wondered if there wasn’t something more sinister afoot. The warlocks had sunk their claws deep into Elvenhame. Could it be they had done something to the king? Perhaps Arolas had struck some bargain with them? It was obvious the elven prince cared for no one other than himself. She would not put it above him to force his father off the throne so he could take the crown for himself.

“Do you know anything about Shalia’s Curse?” Dareena asked. “I’ve always been curious to know if the elves have a different version of events to what I learned as a child.”

“I’m sure the bedtime stories differ between countries,” Basilla said with a small smile. “I believe there is a book lying around here somewhere about the origins of the legend. Let me see if I can find it.”

Basilla came back a few moments later carrying a slim tome in her elegant hand. “I’ve read this more times than I can count.” She handed it to Dareena. “I’m one of the priestesses who tend Shalia’s temple here in the capital, though it is mostly an empty title—I only go for special ceremonies. This book is part of the reading list we are required to get through as part of our training.”

“A priestess?” Dareena cocked her head as she studied Basilla. “What does the elven goddess think about one of her priestesses spending time with the Dragon’s Gift?”

Basilla laughed. “She has not said, but I imagine she would not be thrilled to hear of it. I can’t bring myself to care, though—all this old enmity between our people is quite silly. As far as I’m concerned, the curse should have been lifted a long time ago. Perhaps if it had, we wouldn’t be stuck in this dreadful war.”

Dareena smiled. “I agree. Lifting the curse would go a long way toward mending this old wound, I think.” She was tempted to tell Basilla about the prophecy she’d discovered, but she wasn’t certain it would be wise to trust her with something like that when they barely knew each other.

Basilla’s gaze turned thoughtful. “You know, I could search the old temple records and see if I can find any more information on the curse,” she said, rising. “I have to go there this afternoon—the head priestess requires me to visit monthly.” She screwed up her face in distaste.

Dareena laughed. “Well, you wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.” She looped her arm through Basilla’s. She walked the princess out, then returned to her room, the two books hidden in the voluminous folds of her skirt. She would study up on the curse’s history, then see if she could find a good spell from that magic primer to practice. She didn’t expect miracles, not overnight, but she needed to find a way to free herself and Alistair before Arolas returned. She had a feeling the prince was looking for any excuse to visit misery upon them, and she wanted to be long gone before he decided to execute them, or worse.





19





By the time Drystan finally turned in for the night, he was exhausted. With Lucyan, Taldren, and Catriona all gone off to perform various missions, he was the only one left to hold down the fort, and it took everything he had to keep a brave face and not let the courtiers know how much this was all getting to him.

Drystan collapsed onto his bed, instantly falling into a deep sleep. He wasn’t certain how long he lay floating in the blissful darkness, but gradually, the shadows morphed into a hazy picture, and the next thing he knew, he was looking up at his mate.

“Dareena?” he whispered, reaching up to cup her cheek. She smiled, turning her face into his palm so she could press her lips against his skin, then moved lower down his body. Drystan reached for her, wanting to hold her in his arms, but she pushed his hands away and pulled down his trousers, freeing his rapidly swelling member. Drystan hissed as she took his cock in her small, dainty hands and began to pleasure him.

“Yes,” he groaned, arching his hips into her as she slid her hand up and down his shaft. Gods, that felt so good. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Mmm,” Dareena purred, lowering her mouth onto his cock. Her hot tongue swirled around the head of his shaft, making him see stars, but something about her voice seemed off. He reached for her, and though his hand should have met dark, silken tresses, he instead felt tightly coiled curls.

“What the hell?” Drystan barked, sitting up in bed. He blinked hard, adjusting to the darkness, and in the moonlight, Lady Dalmouth knelt between his legs—one of the noblewomen who had come to see him with her father earlier today. She was stark naked, the silvery light highlighting her milk-white skin, and her heavy breasts bounced as she recoiled, no doubt repelled by the anger in his gaze.

“I’m sorry to startle you, Your Highness,” she said, her eyes wide. “It’s just…you looked so tense earlier when my father and I spoke with you in the throne room. I thought perhaps you were missing Lady Dareena and needed someone to take your mind off her.”

“You thought wrong.” Drystan grabbed her dress from the chair and yanked the garment over her head, then ushered her out of his suite. “Don’t ever do something like that,” he snarled, shoving her into the hallway. “If I catch you in my quarters again, I will banish you from the Keep permanently.”

He slammed the door in her shocked face and stormed back to his room, shaking with anger. Unfortunately, his cock was still hard and aching—he missed Dareena so fiercely that Lady Dalmouth’s touch had stirred up the longings he’d buried so deep. Sinking onto the mattress, he wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly moved his hand up and down, just as he’d dreamed Dareena doing. If he closed his eyes, he could see her again in his mind’s eye, that combination of innocence and lust on her gorgeous face as she knelt between his legs and worked his cock. He watched as she rose onto her knees, long-lashed eyes closing as she touched herself with her free hand, her fingers growing slick with cream…