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

Dareena sighed, glancing down at her belly. The brothers were already overprotective, and this baby was making them doubly so. But she had just been stolen away for two weeks, so she could hardly blame them.

“All right,” she said, slipping her hand into Drystan’s. “But just you.”

They walked down the hall and headed toward the guest rooms, where Dareena had spent her first few weeks at the Keep, first as one of the Chosen, and then as the Dragon’s Gift while the brothers vied for her favor. Thinking about that time summoned a wave of nostalgia—while she was happy that she and the brothers had ended up together, she also missed those simpler times, when all she had to worry about was whom she would marry.

“Do you remember the first night we met?” Dareena squeezed Drystan’s hand.

“How could I forget?” Drystan smiled fondly at her. “You were like a vision, standing in the garden, the moonlight shining in your lovely green eyes. I think you had flower petals in your hair.” He reached out to brush his hand along the fine black strands, and the tender look in his eyes gave way to laughter. “You were perfect, and I acted like a total brute.”

Dareena grinned. “You acted like a fearsome dragon defending his castle,” she corrected. “And you have done a splendid job of it.”

Drystan’s smile faded a little. “I could not have done half as well without you,” he said. “You gave us the strength to drive our father out, and your clever mind has finally set us on the path to destroying this curse once and for all.”

“And that is why we are a team,” Dareena said as they stopped outside Basilla’s door. She leaned up to peck Drystan’s cheek, then rapped on the door. “Basilla?” she called. “Are you awake?”

No answer.

“Basilla?” She knocked a little harder, then tried the door knob. It gave easily. “I’m coming in,” she warned, pushing open the door.

Dareena gasped in horror.

“Fuck!” Drystan swore. The bed was empty, the room had been destroyed, and a trail of blood led from the middle of the room to the open window. Drystan and Dareena rushed to the window together, batting the billowing curtains aside. It was a sheer drop to the bottom, a good hundred feet. Not possible without climbing gear.

Or magic.

“Guards!” Drystan bellowed, his voice full of rage and guilt. Four of them came running, stunned looks on their faces as they surveyed the room. “The Princess Basilla has been taken from her chamber. We must find her at once!”

The castle was put on full alert, and a full search of the Keep was conducted. The brothers tried to get Dareena to wait in her room, but she refused, choosing to help with the search instead. As she went from room to room, with Lucyan at her side, anxiety rose within her, along with incredible guilt. Ryolas had looked absolutely stricken when he’d been told the news. He’d assumed his sister would be safe in the Keep, and why wouldn’t he? If the princess could be taken from her bed in the middle of the night, were any of them truly safe?

“Hang on,” Lucyan growled as he and Dareena rushed down a stairwell. “I smell blood.”

Dareena froze. Now that she was paying attention, she smelled it too—a coppery tang that made her shoulders tense with nerves. “Is someone injured?” she asked as she followed Lucyan down the stairs, keeping her body behind his.

“No!” Lucyan roared, an agonized cry that tore at Dareena’s soul. He traversed the rest of the stairs in one giant leap, landing in a large pool of blood at the bottom. Dareena’s stomach twisted at the sight of Taldren lying there, staring straight at her with blank eyes. His throat had been slit, and his guard’s uniform was drenched in blood that was already turning brown.

“He…he’s been there for a while,” Dareena said, her voice trembling. Tears blurred her vision as she braced a hand against the wall for support. How long ago had Basilla been taken? Why hadn’t Taldren’s body been found before?

Lucyan yelled for help, and the guards came running, along with Drystan, Alistair, Tariana, and Ryolas. Their faces turned white at the sight of Taldren’s body, and Ryolas passed a hand over his face, looking like he wanted to break something.

“This is just bloody great,” he snarled. “On top of everything else.”

“What do you mean ‘everything else?’” Lucyan demanded, twisting around to face the others. He’d dropped to his knees next to Taldren to check for a pulse, and his trousers were stained with his cousin’s blood. “What else has happened?”

“Both the count and the imposter have broken out of their cells,” Drystan answered, his voice filled with barely leashed rage. A vein throbbed in his temple, and he looked even angrier than Ryolas, if that were possible. “They must have found some way to circumvent those manacles.”

Footsteps pounding against the stone floor drew their attention, and they turned to see Shadley rushing toward them. “They used the catacombs to escape,” he said, his face flushed with exertion. “The captain of the Guard and I just confirmed it.”

“That means they had inside help,” Tariana snapped. “Only the royal family and a trusted few retainers even know of the catacombs.”

“So, there is a traitor in our midst,” Alistair said softly. Outwardly, he appeared the calmest, but Dareena knew that Taldren’s death had to be hitting him just as hard. His eyes filled with grief as he looked down at his cousin, and he crouched to close those dead, unseeing eyes. “And because we were too blind to see it, Taldren paid with his life.”

Grief swelled in Dareena’s throat, choking off her airway. Wasn’t it just last night that he’d sat at the table, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed with color? She’d wondered if he and Basilla might develop a courtship. Instead, he lay here, bled out, while the princess was being spirited off to gods knew where.

“There’s more,” Shadley said, his tone dire. He pulled a sheaf of parchment from inside his sleeve and handed it to Drystan. “We found this sitting on the throne.”

Drystan’s jaw clenched as he looked at the paper. “Enjoy what little time you have left together,” he read aloud in a flat, emotionless tone. “Your dynasty will soon come to an end, and I will come back to claim what I have left behind.”

“What does that mean?” Ryolas asked, his voice cracking. “What more could they want? And why have they taken my sister?”

“They are obviously not pleased that Basilla rejected Prince Mordan’s marriage proposal,” Alistair said. “Perhaps they mean to force the issue by planting a warlock babe in her belly.”

Dareena shuddered, placing a hand on her own belly. It was becoming a habit, one she couldn’t quite help even though she knew her hand didn’t keep him any safer. “If our dynasty is under threat,” she said slowly, dread filling her heart, “they must mean to target our child.”