Chapter 21 #2
The excruciating tightness in his chest eased as he heard the acceptance in her voice.
With her curiosity piqued, she would proceed forward.
The lift in her tone and her aura’s shifting color betrayed her.
She warmed to the idea even now. He smiled and gave a nonchalant flip of his hand.
“’Tis just a small rite. Painless. We can add it to our joining ceremony, if ye wish.
” He moved closer and risked nuzzling the temptation of her graceful neck.
“Then nothing can ever part us again. We shall be together for eternity.”
“Isla’s stronghold, the Crystal Caverns.
” Sloan traced his fingertips around the rim of his wineglass as he reflected on the bloodlike color of the swirling liquid.
Perhaps that was why this vintage was his favorite.
He sipped, then held it up to the light again.
“So obvious. So bloody, bloody obvious. We should have known they would go there. Where else would they think themselves safe?” He crushed the glass in his hand, then smiled as the wine mixed with his blood.
Corter cringed, shuffled back a step, and resettled his stance on the lush Turkish carpet. “He waits outside for your orders. Said the ceremony is in three days' time.”
“Three days,” Sloan repeated while plucking shards of glass from his hand.
Three days gave him plenty of time to plot the perfect revenge.
He licked at the blood streaming down his wrist, savoring the coppery tang.
His brother’s blood would taste the same after he ripped him open with his own dagger.
“Tell him to listen and relay any more news. Tell him he has done well. Give him his usual payment. In fact, pay him double.”
“Double?” Corter’s pockmarked face flushed a reddish purple. “Do you know how scarce virgins are these days? And it’s no’ like he uses them for pleasure. He just eats them. You realize that?”
“I do not care what he does with them. It is his payment. Handle it.” Sloan rose from his settee, wrapped his hand in a silk handkerchief, and tucked the ends into his sleeve.
“In three days' time, I shall return balance.” He strolled through the room, wandering around the collapsed columns and blown-away walls still left from Taggart’s attack.
Revenge would truly be sweet when he ripped the Guardian’s heart from her chest, held in front of Taggart’s face, and took a slow, juicy bite of it.
William snickered as Taggart entered the room.
Septamus arched a brow and glanced first at Taggart, then back to William, who stood with several of the Draecna hatchlings belonging to the same clutch.
As he stalked to the front of the training room, Taggart honed in on William.
He clenched his teeth as he contemplated the irreverent hatchling.
“William!” The thunder of his voice echoed off the crystals imbedded in the walls and rattled the torches on their hooks.
The effect he desired. “Step forward and explain the Eleven Tenets of the Draecna Elders of Barac’Nairn. ”
William’s horns sagged and his wings drooped as he shuffled to the front of the cavernous room. The rest of the younglings stood tall and silent, their iridescent eyes narrowing into sidling glances at each other. They lined up, eased back a step, and locked their front claws behind their backs.
William turned, faced his peers, and assumed their stance even though he was still half their size. With a pained look at Taggart, then one at Septamus, he squinted one eye closed and started mumbling, “The first tenet says—”
“William! Ye will explain the texts with proper etiquette and format. Begin again.” Taggart loomed over the young one, circling him until the lad’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.
He did not relish this humiliation, but the youngling had to learn discipline.
Someday, and likely someday soon, all their lives would depend on it.
William lowered his snout. “I cannot,” he whispered. “Forgive me. I am ashamed.”
“Then I suggest ye concentrate on learning your lessons rather than mocking your elders.” Taggart jerked his head toward the rear of the cavern. “Find your place at the back of the training room.”
The small Draecna shuffled to the farthest corner of the classroom, his scaly hide blushing to a brilliant hue of pink, the color of embarrassment.
“Well done,” Septamus said under his breath. “You have become almost as fearsome as I.”
“Hmm.” Taggart watched William skulk in the back corner of the room.
He did not like this part of the training, but with the war, he could not tolerate disrespect.
Everyone knew Hannah favored the youngling because she had discovered him first and the lad was the only hatchling allowed to mature at a natural rate.
He had not melded with Taggart. William remained an innocent, whether he wished to be or not.
Hannah coddled him too much. Taggart had to bring him under control before they engaged in full battle.
With a glance at Septamus, Taggart inhaled a ragged breath. “Any word on whether Sloan has advanced?”
Without waiting for an answer, he returned his attention to the group still standing tall with their feet spread.
They looked good. Strong. Well-trained. But the only direct confrontation they’d had so far had been the breakout at Tiersa Deun.
The young Draecna had done well. Not a single hatchling had been lost. But freeing Erastaed from Sloan’s rule would be a different battle altogether.
Sloan would expect them and be prepared; his claws would be fully unsheathed.
Septamus cleared his throat and leaned closer to Taggart.
“More provinces have been destroyed. Nearly a third of Erastaed lies in ruins. The villagers . . .” Septamus blew out a long, suffering sigh.
“He has truly slipped off into madness. Worse than ever. We must take a stand soon or there will not be an Erastaed left to save. The cruelty of the bastard—” Septamus cut himself off.
“Are you quite certain you share a bloodline with him?”
“Perhaps I am a throwback or the one insane. My heart rules more than my head, and that is not a good thing. Mother had to destroy all the siblings of my clutch. Perhaps she missed and destroyed the wrong one.”
Septamus shuddered. “I remember your siblings. I had to help your mother hunt them down. Trust me—you are not the one who is unhinged. The truth of your heart is a boon.”
As he looked across the room at all the young Draecna still standing proud, Taggart swallowed hard.
He did not wish to lead them to their deaths, but Erastaed cried out for a cleansing.
He gave the group a curt nod. “I am proud of each one of ye. Yer dedication is beyond compare. Ye not only saved the Guardian from a fate worse than death, but ye saved my beloved mate. Tomorrow, Hannah will accept the Fire of Immortality and our blessing rite will complete our joining.” He smiled at the dedication shining in their eyes.
His heart swelled at the electrifying bond of trust pulsing through the room.
“If not for yer strength and protection, tomorrow would not be possible. Ye have my eternal gratitude. And once we free the world of Erastaed from Sloan’s bloody reign, the people will be grateful to ye as well.
Never forget the sacred honor of the Draecna race. Always take pride in your heritage.”
As one, the young hatchlings lifted their snouts and covered the ceiling of the cavern in brilliant flames.
Taggart raised his hands, then clapped them with a sharp report.
“Warriors!” He clapped once more. “After the ceremony, we shall declare full war.” As the Draecna warriors raised their muzzles to blast their flames again, Taggart lifted his hands to stay them.
“More Draecna have joined us from the farthest reaches of Erastaed. We also count the mercenaries of Ruarke and the assassins of Glenoc Mur as our allies. Our numbers are great enough to flank Sloan on every side. After tomorrow, we seize control. Erastaed shall know freedom from Sloan before the next double moon.”