Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
Magnus thumped his fist atop the boxy apinlyre while shaking his head in disgust. What a waste of resources.
He had known Kcirred's spellwork would probably render the thing useless, but he’d hoped that with Lyla’s arrival, things would be different.
He had prayed her presence would provide a shield from the vile druid’s cruel magic.
The door behind him squeaked, warning that he was no longer alone.
“Where did you get those?”
The giddy surprise in his precious lady’s tone made him turn so fast to face her that he nearly lost his balance, but he caught himself in time.
He couldn’t begin to describe how the sight of her dressed as a woman of the Realm hit him.
And she was smiling—actually smiling. The sight completely undid him.
“Gads alive, woman, ye are such a beauty…”
Rushing to the black cases that still rested on top of the large, boxy apinlyre, Lyla waved away the compliment.
“Where did you get all these?” she repeated, opening the cases one by one and running her hands across the musical instruments, touching them with a love and reverence that echoed in her voice and shone in her face.
If only she would look at him with that same caring, that same adoration.
“The Weaver brought them. Old Mairwen.” At first, he’d thought to lie, to tell her anything but the truth, but instinct bade him be honest. Before she flew into a rage and demanded to know why she hadn’t been able to meet with the Weaver, he added, “She will return in a few days to speak with ye. Answer any questions ye may have. She swore it to me.”
Lyla looked up from the musical instruments and glared at him. Barely controlled anger flashed in her eyes. “You believed her?”
“Aye. This time.” And he did. Too much was at stake for the Divine Weaver to lie.
With more regret than he’d experienced in a very long while, he ran a hand across the cold, rough lid of the box of disappointment.
“And the Twanes attempted to build ye a piano. This…thing. Sadly, they failed. The apinlyre, as they named it, sounds horrendous.”
Eyeing him with a quizzical look, she rounded the oblong box of stone, moving to the side of it that had the teeth. “Who are the Twanes?” She seated herself on the cushioned stool that Percival had placed in front of the useless instrument.
“Craftspeople of the Thirteenth Realm.”
She looked so natural there, sitting behind the thing that clanked like a battalion of old warriors fighting their last war.
Her gleaming, dark hair fell in softly curling tresses across her shoulders as she bent her head and studied the many hand-carved teeth.
He ached to touch her hair, to comb his fingers through the silk of it as he heated her blood with another searing kiss.
His manparts hardened to the point of painfulness at the thought of it.
Gracefully positioning her hands over the apinlyre’s elongated white-and-black teeth, she barely tipped her head, leaning an ear toward the thing as she closed her eyes and smiled. With her raspy voice, she whispered to it, “Please work for me. I promise I will always love you if you do.”
What Magnus wouldn’t give for her to say those words to him. A groaning sigh escaped him before he could stop it.
Then she touched the keys, gently pressing down and releasing them, slowly at first, and then faster.
A sound filled with light and hope rose out of the ugly gray box, warming the room more surely than a roaring hearth.
The metallic clang of swords against shields gave way to the clear resonance of cheerful birdsong on a sunny spring morning.
The longer she played, the wider her smile grew.
Caught up in the magic of her song, Magnus barely noticed when Inuk eased into the solar and dropped to his knees in a reverent pose.
Albionna and Martha emerged from the dressing room and stood in awestruck wonder.
Merriweather and Percival slipped in behind Inuk, tears streaming down their pudgy faces as they swayed back and forth in time to the music.
“This instrument is gorgeous,” Lyla said as she softly laid the tune to rest. “What did you call it?”
“An apinlyre.” Magnus wished he could impress upon her the greatness of what she had just done. “This realm has not heard music for many an age. Not even the songs of birds, the howls of wolves, or the rhythmic trickling of a burn tumbling down the mountainside.”
Her mouth dropped open in either anger or disbelief. He couldn’t tell for certain.
“That curse silenced everything?” Her tone left no doubt that a world without music was unthinkable.
“Aye.” He shot a sideways glare at Martha and Albionna. “And what were ye told, might I ask?”
“That doesn’t matter.” She rose from the stool, cracked her knuckles, then picked up the cases that held the violin and the guitar. “Can you carry the flute?”
Disbelief washed over him. “Ye expect me to carry the wee black box whilst ye tote the bigger one? I think not, my lady. Set those down. Inuk will see that the servants take them wherever ye wish them to go.” And that was the next question.
Since she’d been unconscious upon her arrival, where in the devil’s name did she think she was headed?
“Ye know ye canna leave here, aye? Not for fourteen days and nights?”
She gave him such a dark look that if she had been a dragon, flames would have surely shot out of her mouth. “Stop throwing that in my face. I get it, all right? I can’t leave for two weeks. All I’m asking is that you take me to the sick hatchlings so I can try to help them.”
He turned to Martha and Albionna. “Did Tern and Talia not advise the both of ye about yer service to Lady Lyla and what should and should not be shared with her?”
Lyla moved to stand in front of him, as if her delicate frame would in any way protect the pair of maids should he suddenly lose control and fly into a rage.
“Leave them alone. Anything they say to me is my business—not yours. Don’t you dare punish them for telling me about the sick babies.
” She stood taller, fully prepared to rain terror down upon him.
“Now, be reasonable and take me to them. Is there a hospital here for the sick dragons or…” Her voice trailed off, but then her scowl deepened as she struggled to find the right words.
“This place seems so advanced in so many ways and yet so backward at the same time. You have magic and telepathy, along with an amazing bathing spa, and yet no indoor plumbing for toilets or lighting other than candles.” She threw up her hands, completely exasperated.
“Well? Are the sick babies all in one spot, or do we go from door to door, or cave to cave, or whatever it is you have here?”
Mairwen’s advice about Lyla becoming attached to the weak and vulnerable came rushing back to him.
It was as though the Divine Weaver had anticipated this very moment.
“I will have them brought to ye. Ye can see them in the great hall where we receive those with words they wish to share with myself and Talon.”
“You will not have them brought to me. If they’re sick, they don’t feel like being brought anywhere.
I will see them wherever they’re most comfortable.
” She made a face as if something unpleasant had just come to mind.
“Unless it’s in a really dark, tight, windowless place.
I’m a little claustrophobic. Please tell me we don’t have to go spelunking. ”
“Dinna have to go what?”
“Crawling on our bellies through itty-bitty caves that don’t have much air.” She clapped a hand to her chest and sucked in a deep, gulping breath. “It makes me short of breath to think about it.”
“While dragon nurseries dinna have windows and are off to themselves for the safety of the hatchlings, there is plenty of air and no need to crawl on yer belly.” The thought of her crawling on her belly toward him rather than through a dark, cramped cave both excited and shamed him.
He shouldn’t be thinking of such things right now.
He blamed it on the pounding lust of the mate bond that was determined to be made complete.
After a nod at Inuk, Merriweather, and Percival, he offered her his arm.
“Come. Yer music makers will be brought with us. Inuk and the Twanes shall see to it.”
She turned and noticed the steward and the pair of small but gifted craftspeople standing across the large room, back beside the door. Staring at Inuk, her mouth dropped open and hung ajar for several long moments, then she snapped it shut and appeared to swallow hard. All hint of color left her.
Magnus hurried closer to catch her when she fainted, but thankfully, she remained upright.
“I thought dragons had scales,” she whispered to him, barely moving her mouth as she spoke, “like snakes. Or lizards.”
Inuk moved toward her and bowed his head, holding the respectful pose as he spoke. “I am a cloud dragon, my lady. Dragonkind comes in many colors, shapes, and sizes. Much like humankind with its wide varieties.”
“Oh.” Her dark eyebrows rose higher, and she pulled in another deep breath.
“Lyla?” Magnus wrapped an arm around her and leaned her against him. “Do ye need to sit?”
With her gaze still locked on the steward, she wet her lips. “Uhm…no. I’m…uhm…fine.” She cleared her throat, flinching as she did so, then nodded at Inuk. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude and stare. You’re the first dragon I’ve ever met.”
Lifting his regal, shaggy head, Inuk slowly blinked his long, silvery eyelashes, stirring a breeze throughout the room. “I am honored to hold that status, my lady, and ye could never be rude. I am certain of it.”
Magnus waved the Twanes forward, sensing they were about to explode with the need to be introduced. “This is Merriweather and Percival, the creators of the apinlyre.”
Both of them sprang closer like overjoyed rabbits hopping toward a ripe garden.