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

“You have gone too far!” the king shouted. “Our office made a promise that neither of these prisoners would be harmed, and you have broken it!”

A servant helped Dareena to her feet. She took the glass of water he offered and drained it, then clutched it in her hand, wondering if she could use it as a weapon against Arolas. If she broke it, perhaps she could stab the shards into his neck.

Shaking, Dareena forced herself to look at Alistair. He lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood, unconscious, but thankfully Basilla seemed to have healed the wound itself. Shame flooded over Dareena—she should have been the one helping him, and instead she’d let Basilla take care of it while she fell apart. What kind of mate was she?

“Thank you,” Dareena croaked as Basilla rose, the skirt of her off-white dress covered in blood. Dareena moved toward her, then stopped, a warning tingle running down her spine. The princess’s eyes had turned milky white, and there was a slack look on her face as she turned to Arolas.

“Prince Arolas of Erethar, son of the House of Aelosham,” Basilla boomed in a voice that was most definitely not her own, “you have brought great shame and dishonor upon your family, and upon the office whose power you wield.”

“G-goddess,” Arolas stammered, sinking to his knees. Everyone else in the room followed suit, even Dareena and the count—Shalia might not have been their god, but it was never wise to be anything less than deferential to a deity. “It was not my intention to commit any harm against our people.”

“And yet you have,” the goddess said coldly. “By breaking your word, you have forsworn yourselves—I cannot protect you from the dragon god’s retaliation. King Andur,” she said, and the king jerked as she pinned him with her white gaze, “your eldest son is not fit to be your successor. I suggest you name either Ryolas or Basilla as your heir and remove your youngest son from the dungeons. It is clear you have put the wrong one there.”

Basilla’s eyes flickered back to green as the goddess left her. She stared down at Arolas in shock. “By the gods,” she said, her voice faint with shock. “That was the last thing I suspected.”

“You bitch!” Arolas shot to his feet. “Playing horrid tricks like that! I’ll have you beaten for daring to speak such blasphemy!”

He lunged for her, but the guards grabbed him, wrestling him away from Basilla. “That’s quite enough,” King Andur said firmly. “Guards, take him away.”

“What?” Arolas’s eyes bugged out of his head as the guards clapped restraints on him. “You can’t do this to me, Father! I am your son!”

“Bring back Ryolas while you’re at it,” Basilla ordered, ignoring her brother. “After all, our goddess commanded it, did she not?”

The guards nodded, wide-eyed. They dragged the protesting Arolas away, careful not to step on Alistair, who was still passed out on the floor. Dareena rushed over to him and sank to the ground beside him, taking his left hand in hers. Oh gods…his poor arm…

“Don’t worry.” Basilla put a soothing hand on Dareena’s shoulder. “We’ll get him back to your rooms and resting up nicely in no time.” She turned to face the king. “Father, in light of the goddess’s commands about choosing either Ryolas or me as a successor, I refuse the match with the warlock prince. I do not believe such a union would be pleasing to our goddess.”

“You can’t do that,” Count Kianor protested, looking alarmed for the first time. He barely batted an eye when Alistair’s arm was severed, which speaks volumes about him, Dareena thought as she fumed. “This alliance was already promised!”

“I’m afraid this matter must be reviewed,” the king said firmly, quashing further protest. “Count Kianor, I think it would be best if you returned to your own house for some time. It is clear that we have much to sort out before we can make any kind of decision about furthering our alliance.”

“Very well,” the count said stiffly. He rose from his chair and left, his robes swirling about him as he stalked out the door. Dareena was glad to see the back of him—after all that had happened, she knew a warlock could be nothing but trouble, and besides, she was happy that Basilla had finally found a reason to escape that horrible betrothal. Even so, Dareena had a feeling they were not done with the warlocks yet. Even if they’d bought themselves a little reprieve, it was more imperative than ever that she find a way to get them out of here once and for all.





23





“That will be three silvers,” Lucyan said as he placed an entire set of cooking pans on the makeshift counter at the rear of the wagon. He held out a hand for the coins, all the while burying a sigh. Part of him wanted to be out in the hills, practicing his flying, but to do so during the day, when anyone could see him, was folly. Besides, he needed to keep an ear to the ground so he could catch any bit of news about the goings-on of the castle; there was always a chance that an opportunity to sneak in would present itself, and Lucyan damn well wasn’t going to miss it.

Lucyan completed the transaction with the woman, then did a quick count of the till. “There’s a good lad,” the tinkerer said, ambling around the cart. He patted Lucyan heartily on the back. “My sales have doubled since I started traveling with you—you are quite a good salesman. Perhaps I shall keep you around permanently!”

Lucyan chuckled. “I’m afraid the gods have different plans for me,” he said. The tinkerer was a good fellow—he’d even offered Lucyan a commission on his sales, which Lucyan had politely refused—but Lucyan far preferred the company of his brothers, not to mention their mate.

“Mr. Haveshamer!” an elven girl called, running toward them. She looked about thirteen—though as an elf, she was probably twice that age—with long, braided black hair and a pretty face with skin the color of fresh milk. “Mother told me you were back in town!”

“Naleena,” the tinkerer cried jovially, wrapping her in a quick embrace. “You’ve grown a bit since the last time I’ve seen you.” He held her out at arm’s length.

“A whole inch,” she said proudly. “Last year I only grew half as much. It’s very exciting, though not nearly as exciting as the news this morning!”

“News?” Lucyan interjected, his instincts humming. “What news?” It was still early in the morning, and they hadn’t heard much.

“Oh, it’s just beginning to make the rounds—the castle folk have been trying to keep it quiet, but of course they can’t keep such a secret locked away forever.” The girl lowered her voice conspiratorially. “The word is that Prince Arolas lost his mind last night. He heard that Dragonfell has been stalling on the negotiations, and in a fury, he took a sword to the dragon prince they have as a hostage.”