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

Lucyan stared at the ceiling, wide awake as he listened to the tinkerer snore in the bed next to his. He would have given almost anything to have a room of his own, but unfortunately the inn was almost completely booked up—they’d only managed to get this room because of the tinkerer’s popularity.

Of course, he probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he had quarters of his own. Lucyan had been plagued with anxiety since the moment he’d left Castle Whitestone. Alistair was doing much better now that he’d had time to heal, but how long until he succumbed to the anti-dragon spell again, even with Dareena by his side to draw strength from? If the two of them didn’t find a way out of the castle before Alistair fell ill again, Lucyan would have to resort to drastic measures that could very well get them all killed. Horrific scenarios played out in his mind of all the things that could go wrong, nearly driving him mad with fear.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, throwing off the covers. What was the point in lying abed if he couldn’t sleep? Careful not to wake the tinkerer—although how the man could hear anything above his own racket, Lucyan did not know—Lucyan pulled on his clothes, then slipped downstairs to the pub. It was close to two in the morning, and there weren’t nearly as many people seated at the bar and tables as there had been when Lucyan had returned. He found a table easily enough, then signaled a waitress for a mug of ale and a plate of chicken.

As he started on his third ale, two royal guards strolled in, a pair of beautiful women on their arms. Lucyan nearly choked on his brew—the woman closest to him had her hair hidden under a cap, but he would recognize those emerald eyes anywhere. And the man whose arm she was on…

“Hello,” Alistair said, grinning at him from beneath his cap. He’d angled it carefully to shield his amber eyes. “Are you Ramsey, the tinkerer’s apprentice? We were told to seek you out if we wanted to have a good time in this town.”

“You dog!” Lucyan cried, jumping up from the table. He embraced Alistair as if he were a long-lost friend—and indeed, he was much more than that. He ached to hug Dareena as well, but that would have been wildly inappropriate, so he kept his hands to himself. “It’s been far too long. Come, have a drink, and introduce me to your friends!”

They did so, and the waitress brought more drinks for the rest of them. “How did you get out?” Lucyan whispered as the four of them leaned in close. “And what are you two doing here?” he demanded of Ryolas and Basilla.

“Helping you escape,” Basilla said coolly, “and coming along for the ride.”

Lucyan scowled. “Why would you want to come with us? Your place is at Castle Whitestone.”

“Please, Lucyan.” Dareena squeezed his hand beneath the table, sending a current of warmth up his arm. “Arolas tried to have Ryolas killed tonight. He and Basilla are not safe here. Didn’t you promise Tariana you would rescue him if you could?”

“I did,” Lucyan said grudgingly, eyeing the elven prince. There was no reason not to trust him, Lucyan decided. “But I did not bring enough horses for all of us.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem if you can shift,” Ryolas said. “We’ll double up on the horses for now, and once we’re out of sight, you can take dragon form and carry Dareena.”

“We don’t have much time to debate this,” Alistair reminded him. “Every hour I remain in these lands weakens me. And we only have until morning before the guards discover we’re missing.”

“You make a good point.” Lucyan drained his glass. “I’m going to leave a note with my traveling companion to tell him I’m taking off,” he said, standing up. “Meet me in the stables—I’ll be down in a jiff.”

Agreed, the four of them parted ways. Lucyan hurried up the stairs and packed his scant belongings, then left a note by the tinkerer’s bedside table informing him that he had “collected the package and was returning home.” Ambiguous enough that someone else would not suspect the truth without leaving any doubt in the tinkerer’s mind as to what he meant. For a moment, Lucyan felt a pang of regret that he could not say farewell face-to-face, but he shook it off; the tinkerer would come to Dragonfell in the near future, and Lucyan would be able to thank him then.

By the time he got to the stables, the horses Lucyan had purchased were saddled and ready to go. “It was easy enough to pick which ones were yours,” Alistair said while Lucyan fastened his bag to the saddle. “They all have your scent on them.”

Lucyan smirked. “What can I say? I’m a cuddler.” He ignored Alistair’s rolling eyes as he tossed a shirt at him, and another one at Ryolas. “Put these on,” he ordered. “The last thing we need is for the guards to think you two are deserters.”

The two men did as he said, hiding their uniform shirts beneath piles of hay. Ryolas helped his sister mount their horse while Lucyan assisted Alistair—he could tell that his brother wasn’t thrilled about his help from the way his jaw was clenched, but he was still getting used to maneuvering with only one hand.

With any luck, he wouldn’t have to get used to it for much longer.

“Would that I could cuddle with you,” Lucyan said, circling Dareena’s waist with his hands, “but I think you’d be better served helping my brother with the reins.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to cuddle once we’re out of danger,” Dareena said, leaning up to kiss him. Lucyan held her a little tighter as their lips met, and even though they’d slept together last night, it felt like an eon ago. Under different circumstances, he would be carrying her to the back of the stables for a roll in the hay, but…

“I’m not an invalid, you know,” Alistair grumbled, breaking the spell. “I can manage the reins with one hand.”

“No one is calling your masculinity into question,” Dareena said gently as Lucyan helped her up. She settled between Alistair’s legs and patted his thigh. “I’d simply feel better if I stayed close to you for now.”

Lucyan hid a smirk as he mounted his own horse—the annoyance had melted from Alistair’s features the moment Dareena had touched him. None of them could withstand her charms. “Are you ready?” he asked the elven siblings.

Ryolas nodded. “As ready as one can be when fleeing one’s ancestral home.”

Lucyan felt a pang of sympathy for the prince. Just a few weeks ago, he had been an esteemed general, heir to his father’s kingdom. Now, he was about to become a refugee. “You’ll be back here before you know it,” he said, spurring his horse into a trot.

The others followed him out of the stables, and together, they made their way to the southern gate. The sleepy guards waved them through with barely a glance—their job was to police those entering, not those trying to leave. The moment they cleared the gate, Lucyan was struck with the urge to whoop and cheer, but they were hardly out of the woods yet. Leaning into his horse, he urged the animal into a canter and headed for the hills.

“All right,” he said once they were a safe distance away. “Princess Basilla, you can take my horse. I’m going to shift now.”