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

Lucyan let out a disgusted sigh. “No, he would likely just rally our forces and send us all to our deaths,” he said. “The envoy who collected Dareena and Alistair hinted that we would have to pay handsomely to get her back, which is proving to be quite a problem, as we have just discovered Father took the treasure with him when he ran off.”

Shadley’s face paled. “That is a problem indeed,” he said. “Is there anything left at all?”

“Only the steward’s petty cash fund,” Drystan said grimly.

“Do you have any idea where our dear old dad may have hidden the treasure?” Lucyan asked. “We are guessing it is in the Black Mountains somewhere, as that is where he has fled, but it will take weeks to search through all the caves tucked away.”

“I’m afraid I can’t be of much help in that regard,” Shadley said ruefully. “The king never let me access the treasury. I imagine that if I were a dragon, I would have spirited the gold away somewhere that was largely inaccessible to humans, which makes the mountains a perfect choice. If you wish, I can ask around and see if my spies have noticed any suspicious activity.”

“Please do,” Drystan said. “We need all the help we can get.”

As the others continued to discuss their various predicaments, a wave of exhaustion hit Lucyan. Bidding the others a good day, he returned to his suite and climbed back into bed, knowing he still had time before one of the wounded would be needing it. It wasn’t like him to be depressed, but between losing Dareena, Alistair, and the treasure, he was finding it difficult to maintain a positive outlook. One of the healers had left another bottle of potion by his bedside, which he downed quickly, then burrowed into the covers and sank into a healing sleep.

He might not have Dareena with him in real life, but perhaps he could enjoy her presence in his dreams.





6





The border between Elvenhame and Dragonfell was a two-day journey, and Alistair and Dareena spent that entire time confined to the wagon, save for during the night, when they were given small, separate tents and bedrolls to sleep on. Dareena longed to crawl into Alistair’s tent and snuggle with him, to place her head against his chest and listen to his steady, reassuring heartbeat. But as far as everyone knew, she was Drystan’s wife, and it would look suspicious if she crawled into her brother-in-law’s tent.

Why keep up this charade? she wondered the next day as their cart bumped and jostled over the rough dirt road. They’d taken to wrapping scarves around their faces to protect themselves from the clouds of dust that rose up from beneath the horses’ hooves, but even so, Dareena’s eyes were constantly watering, and she had to lie low in the cart to avoid the worst of it.

Maybe it’s to protect Alistair, she mused, gazing up at him. He was seated on the floor next to her, his face a mask of stone as he stared out at the endless plains. If they knew that Alistair wasn’t merely the king’s brother, but a king himself, he would become an infinitely more valuable pawn. She hoped the council wasn’t giving Drystan and Lucyan a hard time about this arrangement—as far as she knew, Dragonfell had never had more than one king at any one time. Dareena knew there would be some objections—there always were with any sort of drastic change—but she prayed that the councilmen would see sense and realize there were bigger problems to worry about than how many arses sat on the throne.

As Dareena nearly dozed off in the heat, Alistair hissed.

“Alistair?” Dareena asked, sitting up in alarm. He clutched his chest, his face contorting in pain. “Are you all right?”

“I…I don’t know,” he gasped, his face pale. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Dareena was about to call for the guards when he relaxed, sagging against the wall.

“That was very odd,” he said.

“Did the pain go away?” Dareena touched his forehead—clammy, but no sign of fever. What was happening?

“Not exactly, but it’s a dull ache now rather than a sharp pain.” Alistair massaged his chest, a troubled look on his face. “I feel as though someone has reached in and yanked away half my strength.”

“I wonder if it has anything to do with crossing the border?” Dareena asked, getting to her knees so she could look around. Sure enough, the flatlands had given way to rolling hills. Off in the distance, mountains jutted into the clear, blue sky, and she spotted a vast forest that couldn’t be more than five leagues ahead. A sense of peace swept over her as she stared out at the verdant landscape, and as she took in a deep lungful of air, she felt almost invigorated. Guilt swept through her at the thought—what was she doing enjoying the scenery while Alistair was in pain?

“That’s absurd,” Alistair protested. “Why would the border make any difference?”

But an hour later, Alistair only appeared to be getting worse. By the time they stopped for lunch, he was listless, his normally bright eyes dull, his blond hair limp, his steps dragging as Dareena guided him over to a log so they could sit and eat. The duchess watched them, a smug look in her eyes that raised Dareena’s hackles.

“You know what’s happening to him, don’t you?” Dareena accused.

“But of course. The warlocks crafted an enchantment to make our principal province inhospitable to dragons. Any dragon or dragon born who cross into this territory feel constant pain and are weakened as long as they remain here. Why do you think I allowed you to bring your brother-in-law with you?”

“You’re lying,” Alistair snapped, glowering at her. “My sister would have reported it if our troops had been struck by such an enchantment.”

“Unfortunately, the enchantment doesn’t cover all of our lands,” the duchess said. “It was quite costly, in terms of both power and money, to set it up, so we have only protected the heartland of our kingdom. The war has mostly taken place in the west, which was no doubt by Ryolas’s design. If he had met your sister on the battlefield here, we would have already won the war.” The duchess gave them a smirk.

“This isn’t right,” Dareena protested. “You promised no harm would befall us while we were in your care.”

The duchess shrugged. “There is nothing I can do about the enchantment,” she said. “But if you insist, I can always send Alistair back.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Alistair growled before Dareena could answer. “Wherever Dareena goes, I go.”

“Suit yourself,” the duchess said lightly. Her jade eyes lingered on Dareena for a long moment. “I must say I am disappointed to see that you are not similarly affected. But I suppose the spell does not extend to you, since you do not actually have dragon blood in your veins.”

“I suppose not,” Dareena said coolly, neglecting to mention the boost of energy coursing through her. She wondered if perhaps she really did have elven blood, and if being in the elven lands was awakening it.