5. Drakonis
5
DRAKONIS
I t is endearing the way she looks at us.
Drakonis disagreed with his dragon. Dragon noblewomen had a more refined air than this woman. But the more he watched her changing expressions, the more interesting she became. At first glance, Clara was plain. Instead of corseted gowns that accentuated her waists and breasts, she had a flowy stola that clipped at her neck by a bronzed choker. The side breasts he had peaked at a distance were closer, moving with each breath she took. Smudged face paint along her chin and button nose were fine features. A siren, he read, was a refined beauty, irresistible when she opened her mouth, or gazed at her prey with lust. This woman was soft, like a tiger cub practicing his hunting.
There would be no hypnotic drowning for him.
It was lucky he found her when he did. Valen was a snake who was carrying out his brother, Kazimir’s, bidding. Had he not sought her out, at Gavril’s urging, she would have been forced to go to an uncomfortable dinner. Either a bloodbath or a harem of naked men and women would wait for her. If that happened, Ragnar Nordskov would wipe Ouroboros, and him, off the map. No matter how friendly they were with each other.
“How saddening for your ancestors. Even one of their royals doesn’t believe in the prophecy they created.” Clara sneered and glided along the mosaic floor, barely making a sound.
“The previous Pythia gave that ridiculous prophecy as a means to goad us,” Drakonis retorted. It unfortunately worked on his father who tested his sons constantly hoping that one of them was the chosen one.
“It’s even more disappointing that a royal doesn’t believe in his own history.”
Drakonis growled, his scales radiating brighter every second. His inner dragon let out a dark chuckle, slithering through his body to look through Drakonis’s phoenix-shaped eyes.
“I do not care what relation to Ragnar you have. I will not let you mock me.”
Clara stopped at a shelf, placing her bronze hand against the dark cherry wood. The green silk flowed down from her shoulder and wrist like a wave, and specks of sunlight glittered against her reflective jewelry.
“I grow tired of arguing. If you are not here to help me, as you graciously offered, then enact whatever arrangement you made and leave me. I’m sure a royal has much better things to do.”
Soldiers. Dragons. Neither men nor women spoke to him the way this woman did. Did this arrogance stem from her overconfidence that she was a representative of Ragnar? Or was it the inflated ego of all those priestesses that lived in the Ancient Isle?
Clara perused the titles of the bound texts, no longer engaging. It was as if he was not in the room. This damned woman was stubborn but drew him with her aloofness. But unlike in the throne room, he could approach her.
“You’re right,” he said. His booted feet echoed along the shelved walls. “I have much more pressing matters to deal with. However, I have put my reputation as a prince on the line for you and my comrade. That entitles me to another question.” He slammed his clawed hand on the side of her head, stopping her movements. The shelves shook with the force but did not fall. “What are specifically looking for?”
Clara did not cower in fear. Sunlight and vanilla filled his nose the closer he moved. Had this situation been different he would find it intoxicating.
“I told you. I am here to find the heir.” Her round caramel eyes looked neither angry nor annoyed. Curiosity sparkled within her irises. He drew closer. Was it he? Her?
She tells no lies. His dragon rumbled in his ear.
But she does not tell the full truth . Drakonis thought back.
“Oracles are perceptive and rare. I would love to give you what you’re need but I need something to prove your intentions. You’re hiding something and I want to know what it is. Humans are not so gracious to nonhumans.”
“ Esseri .”
“Yes. Whatever you call nonhumans. Your Pythia has tried many times to invade our land and learn our secrets. I allowed that opening with you which puts my legacy in question to some of my nobles and father. So, tell me, what is your true motivation in digging into our texts?”
Drakonis allowed her in the library, but it was a fa?ade. Anyone could access what the royal family allowed. She could read everything in here and know stories that their less educated knew. She would find nothing pertaining to true stories of dragons or Phaedrus. The true heart of their history was only given to chosen few, and never an outsider.
The silence was challenging. The setting sun ray’s cast rainbows through the glass windows, bouncing from her jewelry, and creating a glow around her body. It made her seem more inhuman, more goddess-like, but goddesses were despicable.
Like a siren?
His dragon cast a glimpse of him walking towards a vast ocean. A shiver crawled up his spine.
No . Drakonis replied.
Clara pressed fingers to each of her temple. Her brows furrowed and a tiny crease etched itself into her smooth forehead.
“I must make a couple things very clear to you, your highness. First, I cannot tell a lie.” Clara’s voice was soft.
“What would happen if you did?” Drakonis questioned. Politics were a messy thing, but one thing it taught him was how to catch someone in their words. She could not hide from him.
“Since I am unable to do so I would not know. If I wish to hide something, I must either give a half truth or stay silent. As for the Pythia, I have no ties to her, aside from an occasional letter. She has asked me to come for her own reasons, ones I care nothing about. In return for her using my abilities a time or two, I used her reputation hoping it would pressure your family to allow me to come.”
She is very forthcoming.
Indeed , Drakonis agreed.
I like her more and more.
Don’t get too attached , Drakonis argued. He ignored the way she drew him. There was no reason to be acting like a fledgling over a plain woman who may or may not lie to him.
“You have your own reasons to be here,” Drakonis stated.
“I do.”
“What are they?”
“You have your secrets and I have mine,” Clara answered. Her head tilted; her black hair tickled his arm as she lifted her hand towards the side of his face. Her fingertips felt like a bird’s wing but caused lightning through his body. A dim rumble filled his pointed ears, and his face became numb. Did she cast a spell on him?
Drakonis stilled but did not move. “You are quite interesting,” Clara said. “Does the other that lives in you also use your voice?”
Blood rushed through his body. A huff became a growl and his heart hammered against his chest as if it wanted to leave his body. He wrapped his tingling hand around her tiny throat and held her against the bookcase. Drakonis bared his teeth.
How did she know? The only one that knew about his dragon was his mother and Gavril. Neither of them spoke a word considering how dangerous it would be if others, particularly his brother, knew.
Clara held his gaze, with slightly widened eyes. She looked surprised but not frightened. That blasted warm scent of hers soothed him and his surprise fueled his killer instinct. Who was this woman?
Denying it would only make him look foolish. She had just said she could tell no lie. How could he combat honesty while protecting his greatest secret?
“Who told you?” he growled.
“Is that not normal for others of your species?” Clara asked.
“I do not repeat myself.” He never spoke about his dragon aloud and he wouldn’t start now. Her small, soft, hand laid over his trembling fist. Her touch neutralized the tingling, forming a warmth like a fire in a hearth. Drakonis wanted to stay angry, but he couldn’t fight the overwhelming feeling from her touch.
His dragon hummed, arching his snake-like body through Drakonis’s, like a cat to its chosen master.
“Did you know that…”
“I must say, your highness, I would expect this kind of behavior from Kazimir but not you.”
A deep voice broke the trance between the two. Clara didn’t let go of his hand as she turned her head. Drakonis yanked his hand back when he realized who it was.
Gavril stood tall, his gray streaked black hair tied half up and half down in a knot. His gray beard was combed straight, outlining his square jaw. His kymu , silk zakh , and batluns were onyx, san color. The once gray turned ruby scales gleamed, showcasing his rank among nobles. Gavril worked hard to earn his reputation as Chancellor, in fact he was the only one to have his scales changed, something only his father, the emperor, could do.
Opposite the stoic Gavril was his closest friend Alastair. Unlike most dragons as young as they, Alastair kept facial hair. His chestnut beard was shaved close to his jawline. One of his wild charms was how he pushed the boundaries. He knew there would be talk if people saw him with his kymu robe half open, baring his chest, and his loosely tied silk zakh belting his pants around low on his hips. Alastair draped a cape over his left shoulder with a golden chain draped over his exposed alabaster skin and sapphire scales. His eyes were alight with amusement, his smile hidden behind his clawed hand, adorned with jeweled rings.
Drakonis flexed his fingers behind his lower back. Was he disappointed they were interrupted? No. The woman knew his secret, and he had to find out how.
“The oracle and I were discussing her reason for coming,” Drakonis said.
“Does she discuss things the way other ladies do in our court?” Alastair asked. Drakonis glared, and Alastair guffawed. The gleaming red cape, with gold embroidered dracora blossoms, flared around him as he walked, looking like wings. He nudged Drakonis out of the way bowing to Clara.
“Excuse my friend Lady Oracle. He forgets his manners around beautiful women.”
Clara neither smiled nor laughed. Her face remained blank as she nodded. She dropped in a curtsy and held.
“I thank you for the compliment, but there is nothing to apologize for,” she said in a polite tone.
“Why do you hold your curtsy?” Alastair asked, placing his hands on his hips as his brown brow arched.
“I was advised that when greeting one of higher rank you hold your position until commanded otherwise,” Clara answered.
Drakonis crossed his arms over his chest. He remembered how he left Valen, and it was purposeful.
“Please raise your head, my lady,” Gavril instructed walking toward the trio. “You are a princess of Herrlof and Oceanus. If anyone outranks anyone, it would be you to this buffoon.”
Clara raised herself, tilting her head to Gavril. He bowed low at the waist, taking her hand, and kissing the back of it.
“You know about Oceanus?” she prodded.
“When it comes to guests at the palace, I am very well informed. Unfortunately, I could not acquire shells or pearls, but I hope you find your accommodations satisfactory.”
Clara beamed, clapping her hands together.
“I appreciate the sentiment all the same. I am impressed my lord. May I please have the honor of knowing your name?”
She started off insistent, argumentative, then stoic. Now she was beaming like a child? Because of shells and pearls? Merwomen were stranger than he thought. The jewels on his finger were worth more than any pearl.
“Gavril Kostas, princess. Chancellor, and advisor, to the royal emperor and family. And this rude young man is Alastair Doukas. A duke who seems to forget his manners.”
“C’mon Gavril. When it is just the three of us, I thought formalities went out the window.” Alastair rubbed the back of his head and nudged Drakonis. “Or did you want me to bow to you oh great highness? Ow!”
Drakonis clamped his lips to stop the laugh bubbling in his throat. Gavril smacked Alastair behind the neck where he knew his spinal scales started. The pain reminded him of his childhood when Gavril would use punishment to keep he and Kazimir focused.
“Earn the respect of the princess as you help her with what she needs. Do not let me find out otherwise.” Gavril looked towards Drakonis. “Your highness you must follow me. You have a meeting with a diplomat from the orc kingdom.”
Dammit. He had forgotten. He made a half bow to Clara, who had returned to her impassive face. She tiny brow arched then she curtsied again. “Thank you for your time your highness.”
It was time that left him with more questions than answers. He needed to figure out how she knew about his dragon.
You need not speak of me for others to know I am here, the dragon said.
Nonsense. You have been with me since birth. Someone would have asked about you these last few years had it been noticeable , Drakonis answered.
His dragon snuffed and then curled up, disappearing in his consciousness. Drakonis turned his heel and walked towards the door, Gavril hot on his heels.
“If you wish to bed that woman I would think twice unless you plan on committing,” Gavril said.
“Nonsense,” Drakonis retorted. “I would rather mate a whore than one of the Ancient Isle.”
“From my investigation, it has only been recently that the lady has communicated with the Pythia. She has spent most of her life beneath the sea.”
Drakonis paused. He knew Clara spoke the truth when she said she had no close tie to the Pythia. But she and those women of the isle were of the same feather. She had her reasons for being here so that means she had to use him. Use his people.
“Have you learned more about her connections in Oceanus?”
“Because of her sister, King Nordskov received many gifts from the sea kingdom, including exclusive trading rites.” Gavril continued, “These rites ensure his ships never sink and that he has safe passage to go as he pleases between land and sea. I know our plan was initially to get her out of Ouroboros, but it may be worth it to get to know her. If we can gain some favor and even half the rites as King Nordskov it will strengthen your position.”
“Valen almost tricked her into going into Kazimir’s quarters. We need to make sure that we watch his moves closer.” Drakonis stretched the hand that hovered over her head. The perfume she used had made him feel so weird. His cheek felt as if it was on fire but was not totally intolerable.
“She is not what I expected, but it is clear she is strong in body and mind. Like you, it seems she has a guise hidden beneath what she shows,” Gavril said.
“There are too many enemies surrounding her.” How could a frail-looking woman have so many of his opposition on her side? He sensed no magick aside from when she had her vision. Witches would zap him or getting as close as he did. But she just watched him. Touched him.
He stopped in the middle of the hall. Gavril following suit two steps behind.
“Your highness, this is not the time to dawdle.”
“She knew about the eastern sun,” Drakonis blurted. That was the code word he used only with Gavril. “She touched me, and it was if she was reaching through me.” And to his surprise, his dragon enjoyed it, sought it out.
“That is interesting. Being an oracle of the gods, may give her more insight. I will see what I can find out.”
“What if she tells someone?” Her knowledge could not happen at a worse time. Konstantin, his father, was in the midst of selecting who would be the rightful heir to the throne. There were far too many nobles to watch and tricks that Kazimir could play.
“The lady will keep to herself. But I swear, Drakonis, I will ensure your safety as I always have.” Drakonis’s heart eased little. However, Gavril’s words were a vow. Not one time in his hundreds of years had Gavril broken a promise. “Now hurry along. If we are late, your mother will have my head.”