14. Clara
14
CLARA
“ M ’lady there you are.”
Clara stopped in the hall and turned. Duke Alastair was approaching with long strides, black hair wild, and a flamboyant yellow and orange kymu setting off his bright blue scales. Unlike the other nobles she had seen, his chest was exposed. He looked more like a gypsy man than a duke’s son. He was similar to Caius with his childish ways and like Romanus in his rugged soldier look. Seeing him that way made her warm inside. He was a dragon she adored. He simply was a sun that brightened Ouroboros.
Alastair bent at the waist, but Clara held her hands in the air.
“Please don’t. It’s an honor to see you, Duke Alastair. What do I owe the pleasure?”
Alastair continued bending his large body in an elegant bow, and did not hold it. Clara sighed. Even at her insistence he kept with protocol.
“I’m glad I caught you in time my lady. I am under instruction to bring you to the emperor’s library.”
“There must be some mistake,” she said. “Gavril told me no one could go there but the royal family.”
“No mistake m’lady.” Alastair stood tall with his hands on his hips. His sharp tooth grin sparkled. “Drakonis ask’d to bring ya so that’s what I’m doing.”
Alastair took her wrist, dragging her along the hall. Guards watched with wide eyes, following their moves until they turned corners.
Drakonis asked for her? He had only last night said he could get her more information on Phaedrus. Clara fought another blush. He had also looked at her with such heated eyes. She had always been aware of him, but now his touch lingered with her. Clara didn’t want to admit that when she went to bed, she tossed and turned. Something had changed within Drakonis. He had asked her to be his escort to the Hunt. She wanted to go, but something told her that something would change.
The prince didn’t lack for charm. He looked very much like a gallant prince from fairy tales when he kneeled in front of her to put her sandals on. When he laced his fingers with her, or carried her, it had made her heart pound and body warm.
“His highness is being very kind.” She mumbled.
Alastair snorted. “I don’t know what stick was up his ass when you arrived, but he is normally courteous.”
It had to do with his dragon. Her skin crawled thinking about how it appeared before her that first day in front of Valen. Drakonis may not have noticed it, but his ice blue eyes would flash back and forth to gray. She guessed it was when he and his inner dragon had conversations. Did no one else really notice?
“He must have been under some stress. I am connected to many enemies after all.”
Alastair snorted. “That is an understatement. Kazimir has been gaining ground with the nobles and has put us in predicaments.” Alastair looked back with his white and black eyes. “Has Kazimir or Valen contacted you at all?” Clara shook her head. Not unless you would count a greeting in passing. “They’re being too quiet,” Alastair growled.
While it was beneficial for her to pay attention to politics, she did not want to get too involved. For soon she would return home. And thank gods for that.
The two turned a corner. Alastair stopped and quirked a brow. Clara stopped, catching her balance and falling to his side.
“My lord?” She followed his gaze and saw Drakonis. He was not alone. The hall had led to a room as grand as a Great Hall. It was very ornate with grand, glittering, chandeliers, and balls of fire floating. The prince, who recently consumed most of her thoughts, was surrounded by noble ladies in the finest garb. Each was decked out with glittering necklaces, earrings, and body chains of varying-colored gems. Their full-skirt dresses were of the finest silk, a couple with a train. Their hair was perfectly coifed in half up dos, and tight decorative buns, laughing behind their folded fans. Drakonis chuckled with one. She could not read lips, but Clara’s heart stilled as the noblewoman placed her hand on Drakonis’s elbow, her pink silk shawl falling between them, her breast grazing him as she stepped closer. He took her hand and kissed the back of it.
He did that to her just yesterday.
She had never met these women, but she wanted to approach them and pull Drakonis away. Shock stilled her. Why did she feel like this? Between the two princes she did favor Drakonis. Yes, he had showed her a vulnerability that she could relate to. Was she so shallow that his kindness and kisses on her hands who make her this way? There was a sparkle in his eyes when he had asked her to the Hunt, like the men who asked her sister to go to events in Xenakis. Was she misreading him about the Hunt? Her mind shouldn’t even go in that direction. She was here on a mission. Maybe she was getting too close? Maybe Gavril’s death changed the situation more than what she anticipated.
“My lord. The prince is obviously preoccupied. We can just meet with him later.”
Alastair looked down at her then glared into the room.
“Oy prince!” The women gasped. Multiple pairs of eyes moved to Alastair, and by extension, her. “I didn’t do you a favor so you could flirt.” Instead of anger, Drakonis shook his head with a smile and excused himself. All the women fell into a curtsy, not moving until he was out of their immediate circle. Clara touched her forehead, hoping she could block some of the blush on her face.
“Lord Alastair…” Clara reprimanded.
“He had an engagement. And, unfortunately, I cannot accompany you. I am not an immediate member of the royal family.”
“He is right.” Drakonis appeared, standing close, taking her hand from Alastair’s grip. Clara held a gasp as he kissing it, just as he had done with her last night, and how he just did with the other woman. Clara pursed her lips. She was nothing special to him, and he did not need to make her believe that.
“It a place that only I can take you to,” Drakonis continued. He was smiling at Alastair, but it was not one like in the forest. It was more like the one she had seen in front of Valen. Did she or Alastair offended him?
“Maybe next time you can stop ogling the skirts and take care of m’lady here.” Alastair bowed his head, winking. “We will catch up soon lady. Mayhap another tea party.”
“I would like that,” Clara said. The last one she had was relaxing, and it wasn’t because of the tea.
Alastair’s eyes cut to Drakonis. He said something in his language and left with a flurry of his red silk cape.
“I hope I was not interrupting you,” Drakonis said.
“No, your highness. If anything, I apologize for interrupting you.” She glanced over his shoulder. The female dragons looked at her from above their fans with narrowed eyes and raised brows. It was clear they were gossiping, and one looked outraged to see her touching Prince Drakonis. She tugged at her hand, but he held firm.
“Nonsense. You just asked me yesterday for more information concerning Phaedrus, and our ancestors. So I am bringing you to the imperial library.”
“I did not expect you to be so prompt with my request.”
“I can be full of surprises.” His grin was as toothy as Alastair’s. She returned it, but looked away, focusing on anything except his handsome face. He squeezed her hand and led her down a busy corridor. The deeper they went the more heavily guarded it was.
“Can I ask what you were reading about today?”
“Yes.” Clara stared at the stained-glass windows lining the walls. Similar to the fresco, they were a rainbow of color, some depictions romantic and others terrifying. She searched for anything that had seemed familiar from her studies. Everything represented a piece of a larger vague story. “I was searching for more information on the Drakaina.”
They were a group that had consumed her every thought since her talk with Gavril. The prophecy that Emperor Konstantin had was different than the one she had seen, but could it be they were both groups were looking for a chosen one?
“Ah. The Drakaina,” Clara’s gasped. Gavril had said that the Drakaina visited Drakonis when he was in the Ruins. Would it be a sore subject?
“Do they still live?” she questioned.
Drakonis paused. He looked lost in thought, his neck and hand scales gleaming for a moment. His irises flashed gray and ice blue again. He was communicating with his dragon.
“I have never seen one, but legend says they have never left us,” he finally answered. He had never seen one? But Gavril had said otherwise. Was he lying to her, or did Gavril just misunderstand?
“Do you know where they would be if they were still alive?”
The ruins had come up so much in her conversations with Gavril. Something was pushing her to go but she could not go without an escort.
He shrugged, but the closer down the corridor they got the tighter his grip.
The room was mystical. The windows were narrower than in the hall, covered in thick navy curtains. Specks of dust floated in the glimmers of sunlight that filtered in. Skinny candles, with white flames, floated above in the domed ceiling. Others with a warm yellow glow surrounded large pieces standing in podiums and stands around the room.
Clara’s sandaled feet quietly stepped on the tiled floor.
The same painting of Phaedrus stood in the center; his white eyes boring into her. The domed ceiling was gray with black leafless branches separating it into quadrants. Each had a figure of a woman baring her breast and a long glimmering tail that reminded her of the fins of the merpeople.
Engraved in the east and west walls was a silver and gold serpent’s body. Slithering as if it was going in and out of the wall. Clara, mesmerized, approached it, gliding her fingers over the iron scales. An ivory foot appeared in the center with three large toes with talons that were as long as her arm. A flash of sunlight glimmered against the tips, pulling her eyes further into the room. Plated chest armor was displayed on a pillar behind a glowing red dome. Magick zapped her just as she was about to touch it. Not painful but a warning.
“Careful. My father does not like any of these things to be touched.”
She nodded, at a loss for words. This was more than a library. This was a place of frozen history. Ghosts seemed to hover around in shadows.
She walked in loops. Around the plated chest armor were stained, torn, robes, an iron skirt with inlets of jewels, and iron spaulders, reminiscent of the gargoyles.
“These are artifacts from our ancestors,” Drakonis began. She felt his body heat as he stood behind her, his warm breath tickling her ear. The tips of his fingers tickled her hip. That damned heat was starting in her again. She did her best to focus on his words. She wasn’t going to waste her time here. “Very few remain, but these are only brought out during our Dawning Festival.”
Clara’s eyes moved throughout the room, becoming increasingly mesmerized by the minute. A large tablet with block picture letters was in rough condition but did well for its age. Curved swords with golden hilts sat above a rough looking grimoire as if protecting it. Sculptures, green and copper, told a variety of stories that she did not understand, but brought warmth to her chest. Handless pottery stood on columns with images that were less realistic than the paintings hanging on the walls. The half humanoid, and fully transformed, dragons were blocky with stiff positions. Some showed women and children, some showed warriors, one showed the same female creatures that were upon the ceiling.
From hellfire we’re born
And through greed we are contained
Female voices filled Clara’s mind. Her irises grew as she watched the pottery. The siren looking women moved as if they were swimming.
Hear our voices
Hear our song
May our hero come along
Peace will come
From our chosen one
Clara’s hand was drawn to the moving sirens. The zap should have came as she touched the piece of pottery. If it did, she did not notice. The song transfixed her. Fast paced images entered her mind as she touched the lip. Two small boys running in the rain, helping each other fight fear at the crackling lightning and roaring thunder.
One of the boys pushed the other off a ledge, the poor dear screaming for help. Death was taking his little body until a handful of the sirens surrounded him with a soft opal light. Their naked chests and features were humanoid, but they had smooth navy skin and snake like gray eyes. Their hair floating around their crowns, laying over their bodies in waves. Heavy golden plates hung from their necks with ancient carvings.
Trust in Phaedrus as he guides you
But do not fall in his trap
For Rebirth is what he craves
While your soul is wrapt
Her third eye opened as the little boy came back to consciousness. The little boy morphed into a grown man with white hair and golden horns. His muscular body was that of a man who had been a mercenary his entire life, a boulder of a man with gleaming, ocean blue, runes etched in the same areas that she had seen Drakonis’s scales. A clawed hand went through his chest where his heart should have been. With a roar, his humanoid body disintegrated into dust, and from the magical dust arose a figure she has seen so much in the castle. Phaedrus.
“Clara!” Strong hands pulled her from her dream. The world dimmed and went silent as she refocused. Drakonis’s heartbeat was rapid against her back. Her heart beat rapidly as she relaxed against him. His lips nearly caressed her ear as he spoke. “Are you alright?”
It was like when she first saw a vision in Oceanus. Something about the vision was a warning. She looked up and met Drakonis’s eyes. He was so close that she could feel his breath against her cheeks. She didn’t think. She jumped in his arms burying her face in his neck. She barely knew this dragon prince but right now he was her anchor. She was safe. But that sweet boy… he had to have been surrounded by the Drakaina. He was their chosen one.
Her grip was tight on Drakonis. Her blunt fingers dug into the fabric of his kymu . Her eyes glazed with tears, but she refused to let them fall. Unlike when she had her initial vision there was someone with her to comfort her. Who did not treat her different when she had visions.
Drakonis’s movements were unsure. He caressed her spine, moving his claws up and down with one hand. The other warmed her lower back, his thumb moving in circles. A man had never touched her so, but she wasn’t offended by it.
“I warned you not to touch anything,” Drakonis cooed. “We do not know what magick was left behind.” Clara was used to Drakonis being firm with her. His words now were soothing. She didn’t sense the sarcasm he had when they first had met. She looked up. His eyes were wide, his irises larger than normal. The hand caressing her spine cupped the side of her face, pushing the hair from her forehead. “What happened?”
“I heard…” What did she hear? The song was reminiscent of sirens, but they weren’t sirens. She looked up towards the dome. The mermaids along the wall here were Drakaina. Did she actually see them? “I don’t know what I heard.” She trembled thinking about saying it aloud.
Clara licked her lips. She needed to write down their song. Write it and then dissect it.
Drakonis pulled her to his chest. He was warm. She didn’t hate being in his arms it seemed. She tried to think of reasons she shouldn’t be here wrapped in his essence. But all she could think about was how much comfort he brought her. How his strength helped calm her mind.
“Would you like to return to your room?”
“No!” She said. “Please, your highness. Let me stay.”
Drakonis quirked a brow. “You have used much magick these last few days. Mayhap, your purifying was not enough?”
“It is really nothing your highness. I can walk fine. I was just absorbed.”
Drakonis leaned his head down, his hot whisper caressing her ear. “This time, when you purify, be sure to inform me. I don’t want a man stumbling upon you in that…condition.”
“Condition?”
“Are you unaware at how appealing you were?” She was aware her third eyes was in display. “I didn’t give you my cloth just for warmth Clara. You might as well have been naked.”
“Oh.” Her fingers clenched at his pectorals. She was so used to wearing that kind of cloth in Xenakis, and there was a lot of nudity in Oceanus. She tried so hard to follow the culture here and she did such a thing.
Clara pushed off his muscled abdomen. Her body was still heavy, but her head was distracted. She stood quickly but stumbled. Drakonis caught her, holding her steady. Her heart began beating weirdly again. He was being so gentle with her.
“I have waited so long to see things like this.” She changed the subject from her time purifying. This was not the time to think about it. She was still trying to reconcile how he was in moments like then and now versus when he was with those noblewomen. “Please don’t make me leave so soon.”
“It will not be the only time you come here,” Drakonis answered. “Anytime you wish to come I will bring you, time permitting.” Clara bit her bottom lip. Promises were appreciated, but sometimes impossible to keep. But what right had she to go against his urging? The image of the boy made her heard spin. Was that the young Drakonis Gavril had told her about? Did Phaedrus or the Drakaina harm him at his most vulnerable?
A masculine sigh broke her thoughts. “Over here were scales my grandfather found.”
Drakonis’s grip was tight on her waist, but gentle with her hand as he guided her to the other side of the room. Far from the pottery that enchanted her.
“Over the years my people have lost scales in their humanoid form. Unfortunately, that also means that, if we change to our true form, there are holes in our armor.” Clara stared at his profile. Was his voice always so deep? She felt like she was now gliding along water. “Of course, no one knows that but our kind. A well-kept secret, that would be dangerous if it were to get out.”
Drakonis met her eyes. A lump was in her throat when she saw the color flash. Heat filled her cheeks when his lips pulled into a smile, and his thick brow quirked. Her eyes moved to where his just were. Scales, that looked like jewels, sat on a velvet pillow, ancient magick circling them. Her fingers itched to touch them, but she resisted.
There was something about this room. Something alive about it.
“W-why are you telling me?” Clara asked.
“Your wish is to find Phaedrus. Knowing our true history behind our people will move that along.”
“True history?” she questioned.
“There is little we reveal to our citizenry, and even less to outsiders.” Drakonis’s thumb ran over her knuckles as he spoke. He looked entranced by the scales as well. “It is for our kind’s protection.”
Clara wanted to press, but the shadows in his face held her back. Drakonis nudged her to continue her inspection. He walked her around the relics until they reached an altar with a mummified claw on a pillow. Instead of the red magick that surrounded everything else, a diamond case held the remains.
“This is our prized possession,” Drakonis said. “Phaedrus disappeared from the annals of history after a couple of millennia. No one knows what happened to him, but our scholars have linked this hand to our creator. History tells us that as Hades cast Phaedrus into hellfire, he attempted to overpower him and stole one of his hands.”
“T-this is…”
“The hand of Hades.” Drakonis finished. His gaze was proud. “A reminder that not even the gods may strike us down. We who are stronger than any other in this realm.”
A ghostly snake wrapped around her body, slithering from her ankle to calf, lazily holding her around her hips, and casually draping itself around her shoulders. It was the same dragon she saw her first day here. It said nothing as it seemed to almost pull her closer to Drakonis.
“You have a beautiful culture,” Clara said. It wasn’t just the relics, but the reverence that Drakonis showed. These were sacred and important. To not only him but his people. “Do you display this at your Dawning Festival?”
“No. There is too much chaos, and near impossible to guard. But I have gotten approval to display it at the opening ceremony.” A weird feeling crept up in her breast as she stared at his toothy grin. “Tensions have been high, and I told the emperor that it would be something that could bring unity during this time. It is important for a dragon to feel proud no matter his station.”
A beautiful sentiment. It was unfortunate that Clara had only one of the brothers had that sentiment.
“You are a good ruler,” she said. The snake around her wrapped around Drakonis, pushing them together. The same heated gaze he gave her in the forest was back. He took a section of her hair and twisted it between his fingers. Every time she saw this man he was making it harder for her to keep her distance. But it was impossible. She was here on a mission, and he was the war hero prince of the dragons. A society that despised outsiders.
The snakes head nuzzled her cheek and landed inside the crook of her neck. Her eyes darted down. Drakonis used a long finger to redirect her gaze.
“You have agreed to come to the Dawning Festival. You will also come to the Hunt, yes? As my escort?”
“Your highness…”
“Drakonis,” he corrected.
Clara bit her cheek. These feelings were so confusing. She was starting to daydream about being special to him which was forbidden. Yet she was gleeful at the concept of being asked for an outing. Even if he didn’t see it that way.
“I want to do something for you. I have been a right bastard since you’ve gotten here. I wish to make up for it.”
“I do not hold it against you,” Clara said. Drakonis was always touching her when he was near. Even now, she felt encased in his warmth.
“Then will you attend…” Drakonis asked. He rushed when she had not given an answer. “Attend to honor Gavril. I know he has spoken of this event with you, and he would have wanted you to be there.”
Her first tea party came to mind. Gavril did indeed want her as comfortable as possible. Now, Gavril, Alastair, and Drakonis were asking her to go. Even if she came up with a reason not to, it seemed Drakonis would find a way to get her to say yes.
The snake raised its head and hissed “ Come, ” into her ear. It sent a shiver down her spine and made her think of the beautiful voices that sang to her moments ago.
“Very well.” Clara relented. “If that is what you wish, then I will attend.”