Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
An irritating human? Flame-test first, ask questions later.
-Humaning for Beginners: A Dragon’s Tale of Human Management
So, I visited Taron.
In my defense, he was to blame. Mostly. Kind of. Though I did manage to resist the urge to see him for two days.
The first morning started like any other. I awoke far too early, having failed miserably at the noble art of slumbering. Normally, my insomnia centered on a parade of political chaos through my head. Border disputes, minor rebellions, possible cracks in my defenses. The usual.
This time, it was all Taron, all night, with his brooding face, chain-summoning charisma and shockingly intriguing rage.
My dragon frothed, balanced at the precarious edge of violence, while I tossed and turned.
I even composed a speech in my head explaining why keeping the Locke alive might not be the worst idea I’d ever had.
Then I contemplated chaining myself. Nothing helped.
My brain still ran full steam toward him.
I dragged myself to the private gym attached to my royal bedroom suite and got busy sprinting on the treadmill. Halfway through my planned twenty-mile run, Adelaide breezed through the doorway carrying a teacup on a saucer.
She stopped at my side, sipped from the glass, and glanced at the machine’s display screen. “You’ll never work out your frustrations at such a slow speed.”
“Slow?” I pushed out with a panting breath.
“Let me help you.” She cranked the machine to its highest setting—only two notches higher than I’d previously used—and I thanked her with a snap of my teeth.
“Why are you here?” I grumbled.
“In a lovely mood, I see.” She flashed me a big smile. “Well, this should make you happy. And furious. Mostly furious. Guess what? I know who’s abducting our best soldiers.” She paused for dramatic effect. “It’s not who you think. Well, it probably is, but also someone we haven’t considered.”
I waited… “Well?”
“The professor, on behalf of Lorik.”
Everything inside me cringed. The name alone carried the promise of war.
Lorik was the newest shifter-king and a former elite who’d made a play for my crown and lost. The defeat had acted as a spark in a powder keg.
Like my father, he’d welcomed evil into his heart, allowing his dragon to overtake him, transforming him into a full-on shifter.
“So, the mortal professor is working with Lorik.” I switched off the machine, aimed for a training dummy and punched it until it burst into flame. My strength had returned full force. Yay. Only problem was, my mood continued to sour.
My sister extended the teacup she’d carried with her, all casual like. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my missing one. “And that’s why I brought you some delicious green tea laced with gelu root.”
I took a sip and wrinkled my nose. “What did you do? Triple the dose?”
Wisely, Adelaide was already backing out the door. “You’ll thank me later.”
Considering how much I wanted to both throttle and hug Taron Locke at the moment, yeah, that tracked.
“By the way, I’m still working on digging up information about the Yrnblade. Whoever hid the details did a better job than most, but I’m so close to success I can taste it.” She left with a finger wave. “Ta ta.”
Mumbling about know-it-all sisters and annoying professors, I drained the remaining tea, then showered, braided my hair, and dressed in flame-resistant leather pants, plus a collared white blouse with dragons embroidered in vibrant pink thread.
A black corset completed the look. Then I strapped on an arsenal.
Daggers tucked in my boots. A belt/whip combo around my waist and of course the ornate hairpin that could be used as a dagger.
“Nyla!”
“Nyla!”
“NYYYYYY-LAAAAAAA!”
My father’s voice shook the walls with the power of a natural disaster. Everything rumbled. Somewhere in the palace, a priceless vase shattered. I ground my molars.
Though a fated mate was supposed to have a calming effect on a berserker, Nyla had only ever brought out his worst traits. Once kind and caring, he’d become volatile, quick to dive headfirst into a temper. Unable to find peace, he’d grown paranoid.
He’d slain my mother to have Nyla, only to kill Nyla too. Or had he? The council wondered if she too now lived.
Another worry to add to my plate.
I stomped through the palace, headed for the dungeon. Along the way, four of my sisters, all younger, caught sight of me and screeched.
“The she-beast!” Gretchen grumbled. She, Lucinda, Frieda and Millicent hastily switched directions, vanishing around a corner before I could even call out a greeting.
They must have spoken with Adelaide. “I’m not that bad,” I called. But yeah, okay, lately I’d been a wee bit short-tempered.
A problem for later. The closer I got to my father, the more I dragged my feet. Our meetings never went well.
Finally, I reached the dungeon, and Daddy Dearest’s cell.
Bloodstained stone walls barely contained him.
As the primordial, he possessed attributes regular dragons did not.
He sprayed flames that disintegrated matter in an instant.
Obsidian bones etched with symbols we had never successfully deciphered.
Scales that shifted like tectonic plates, revealing tiny spikes that expelled molten poison upon impact with a living being.
Eyes capable of mesmerizing any who gazed upon him. Any but his daughters.
Since his arrival home, he’d slowly transformed into a semblance of his humanoid self.
Currently, he reclined against the far wall, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, an arm covered in scales and tipped in onyx claws resting against it.
He possessed thick red hair, wide shoulders and a barrel chest. While his irises had retained their silver sheen, they contained glowing emberrose rings around thin, slitted pupils.
Thick chains circled his wrists and ankles, the metal the same as the Chains of O. Thankfully, I hadn’t cried on these and bound myself to them.
For once, he waited predator-still, no longer straining for freedom. There’d be none.
“Here to command my silence, daughter?” The words boomed, bubbling with a terrible blend of menace and amusement.
I had, ja. Now? I flashed a too-sweet smile.
“For all you know, I came to make sure your stay is the five-star experience of my dreams.” Oh, how I despised this man I used to adore.
Every time I glanced at him, I recalled the savage way he’d torn my innocent mother to shreds with his teeth and claws.
How he’d then turned on me and my sisters, intending to end us next.
“A glass of whiskey wouldn’t be amiss. Perhaps a warm towel.
” He sniffed the air and frowned. Sniffed again and grinned.
Somehow, he became even stiller. “Mmm mmm mmm. What is this? Is that a Yrnblade mark I see on you?” His attention zeroed in on my throat.
“Ooooh. It is. Another problem for your queue, ja?”
Dread prickled my nape. The Yrnblade. The weapon the Locke had used on me.
Cedric saw its mark, even though the wound had healed.
He now knew each of my weaknesses. The Yrnblade, which bonded me to Taron.
The chains that summoned me to whoever wore them, and the family curse lorded over both, demanding I burn and remake my soulmate.
Reveal nothing. I anchored my arms behind my back to hide my balling fists and tilted my head in the same unnerving way the professor had done when he’d looked me over. “I have no problems, prisoner. Only solutions.”
“Now, now. We both know that’s a lie. Though I’m happy to take one of those so-called solutions off your plate. A favor from father to daughter, no payment required. When I’m free, I’ll handle Lorik. How about that, hmm?”
A “favor” offered only because he intended to reclaim his crown. A way to prove to my people he could handle an enemy I could not.
I countered with a subtle quest for information. “And what of Nyla? Do you expect a dead woman to reign at your side?”
Would he admit he believed she still lived?
Judging by the slight jump of a muscle in his jaw, the questions bothered Cedric. Good. Like me, he tended to mask his inner emotions.
As a cover, he unveiled another grin. “You should be more concerned with the Yrnblade. Your doom is set, daughter.”
Dread punched me.
And he wasn’t done. “Desperation for the one who cut you will grow and grow and grow until you’re crazed.” His smile faded. His voice became a grumble. “I should know.”
The dread reproduced itself, doubling. I resisted, keeping my nonchalance on display.
“Ah. This is the part you say I shouldn’t blame you for your actions because Nyla used the dagger on you.
” Hackles sharpened inside me, further resistance against the trepidation he attempted to stoke.
I gripped the bars, intending to…something. How dare he go there.
The throbbing erupted in my neck, as if attempting to offer proof of his assessment. Doomed…
My dragon engulfed my brain in heat and fury, fueling desperation to reach Taron.
The dagger wouldn’t make me like my father. It wouldn’t. It couldn’t.
But what if it did?
“Although,” Cedric said as though I hadn’t spoken, “what happens to its wielder is far worse.” A manic laugh boomed from him. “Your Locke is better off dead.”
Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of asking for an explanation, or how he’d known about Taron, I moved on to the next topic. “Are you the phoenix?” I asked as casually as I was able. “Is that how you rose from the dead? Or is the goddess responsible?”
“Maybe I am the phoenix.” He shrugged, as if he didn’t care either way. “Perhaps my desire for vengeance brought me back. Could be magic. Doesn’t matter, since we’re both destined for ruin.”