6. The Dragons Bargain
CHAPTER 6
The Dragon's Bargain
Melinda Mayweather
Every instinct screams betrayal. I jerk my hand away from the water-lady and stumble backward, only to collide with what feels like a solid wall of muscle. “This definitely isn't Avalon.”
Startled, I turn to face a towering, half-dressed man covered in snake-y green dragon tattoos and tightly braided black hair.
I make an embarrassingly squeaky sound and retreat, trying to distance myself from the intimidating man who exudes ancient power.
“No, you are in Drakoné,” he says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. He turns to the woman who brought me to the Greek-looking-dream-world and bows. “Queen Nimue, King Athanasios welcomes you to Drakoné and bids you wait here for their arrival. He granted your request for a somatophylakes and Kellan of Gilat has stepped forward to accept the bond.”
“Wait, Queen Nimue? Like the Lady of the Lake with King Arthur? That Nimue? What’s a so-mah-toe–” My mind is racing to keep up with the slew of unfamiliar terms and titles.
“All will be answered, I promise,” Queen Nimue assures me, her voice calm yet commanding. “I need you to be quiet and I need you to bow when the King arrives.”
A massive shadow streaks over the ground and I look up, watching in awe and terror as an enormous dragon, its scales shimmering like an armored jet-plane, glides gracefully across the clear blue sky.
I snap back, half in disbelief, half in shock, “Oh, because he’s a dragon and he might eat me?” The absurdity of the situation teeters on the edge of hysteria, threatening to unravel my composure completely.
I look back at her-highness-the-water-queen and my stomach sinks. She’s serious. She doesn’t correct me. And the hulking dude I bumped into before doesn’t either. My heart stutters in my chest and I struggle to suck in a breath. Everything around me looks like it’s from a mythic tale, yet here I am, standing in the fucking middle of it.
“If you’re not respectful, I’ll eat you,” the big guy growls out.
Great. Just great. The primal part of my brain screams danger and my magick attempts to unfurl. But I bite my tongue, distracting myself from my fear with visceral pain and hold it back.
I take another step further away from both of them. I can’t lose control. I can’t be stuck with a bunch of cannibalistic dragons.
“You’re not helping, Iason (Yah-shun).” Nimue hisses at the giant guard and walks toward me, beckoning me to come closer to her. “He’s not going to eat you. And the king won’t either. But everyone here is a dragon and please don’t insult them by calling them cannibals.”
I point to the big creature in the sky. “How is that a man?”
“He is in his beast form,” a new male voice announces from behind me. “We can shift back and forth between man and beast.”
I quickly turn to face the new arrival. My eyes are drawn to an imposing procession ascending the marble steps, each one reflecting the brilliant sunlight, adding to the grandeur of the scene unfolding before me. It’s like I’m in a epic fantasy movie.
Nimue and Iason, the giant guard, bow reverently, their movements punctuating the air with a sense of reverence.
“My king,” Iason’s voice is a low murmur filled with respect.
The king approaches, and holy crap, he's huge. Every well-developed-battle-created-muscle on his body screams 'formidable,' and he walks with the kind of authority that makes you want to bow or run—maybe both.
His clothing is reminiscent of ancient Spartan warriors, a blend of traditional Greek elegance and raw power. The white linen chiton he’s wearing is offset by a bronze breastplate, intricately engraved with an image of a dragon. The crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders is held in place by a dragon-headed clasp–a statement claiming status and power.
One thousand percent commitment to the Greek theme of this place. It’s impressive and nostalgic for me. My mother spent my entire childhood reading me myths and legends from ancient history. This place is like I stepped into one of her stories.
At his side, a woman–I assume is the queen–commands equal attention. Her appearance is both regal and fierce. Her tightly wrapped linen dress, dyed in deep shades of blue and purple, hugs her figure, accentuating her strength and femininity. The fabric is embroidered with golden threads depicting scenes of dragons and warriors. Her hair is styled in elaborate braids, woven with thin golden threads, shimmering like captured sunlight, giving the illusion of a crown without wearing one.
I know I need to bow too, and I do, sort of, but I stare while doing so. These people don’t seem real. They look like actors in a play. Or from a movie. The king looks like he could’ve stepped off the set of 300 . And he definitely looks scary enough to kick me into a pit if I piss him off.
I continue to stare, rooted to my spot, unable to peel my eyes away from the royal couple.
A few paces back, another man’s presence rivals that of the king and queen. He’s similarly dressed to Iason, wearing only a white chiton draped over one shoulder and no armor or cape. His gaze is sharp, scanning the surroundings with a focused vigilance.
“King Athanasios, thank you for–”
The towering man–King Athanasios–dismisses Queen Nimue, interrupting her pleasantries, and steps directly toward me.
My chest tightens. My heart drops to my stomach. Everything inside me is saying run. My magick is pushing so hard to get out I feel queasy. Yet, I stand frozen, recalling every wildlife documentary’s advice—never run from a predator. But how relevant is that when facing beings of myth and legend?
“You took her from Earth? What is she?” He’s speaking to Nimue, but he’s staring right at me like he can see straight into my soul. “What are you little one? Elf? Fae? Demi-god? Wolf?” Like he’s digging into the deepest parts of me, looking for answers I don’t have.
The gears in my head grind to a halt. My fear melts into curiosity. The question he just asked and the answers he provided… I don’t even know where to start.
Nimue started for me. “I found her at one of the Fae court doors. She’d killed all the men there. Everyone was dead.”
“I didn’t kill them all!” I say, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and frustration. “The Inquisitors killed my family. They killed the guide, too… I can’t control who my magick hurts when it escapes me. I already told you that.” The admission leaves me feeling exposed and even more out of control.
The king recoils and takes a step backward, pushing his queen behind him protectively. His eyes, alight with a mixture of brown and flecks of bright forest green, fix on Nimue, but his peripheral gaze rests on me, assessing, calculating.
Fear knots in my stomach. Is he scared of me? Is he going to want me dead too, like the Inquisitors?
He growls at Nimue, his voice resonating with a deep, primal warning, "You brought danger to my doorstep." The space fills with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife—or maybe a dragon claw in this case.
The king’s magick curls around me, an ominous presence like a serpent poised to strike. Yep, kinda feeling the on-coming death knell. He is pissed.
But Nimue is unperturbed by his displeasure and waves her hands dismissively. “I’m convinced she’s the Fae prince’s mate. She’s important Athanasios. Very important.” Her voice is steady and filled with strong conviction.
He scoffs out a disbelieving laugh. “To your cause you mean. To taking down the High Council. I am not a part of your rebellion, Nimue. How dare you request repaying the life debt I owe you for this? ” His words are laced with incredulity and indignation.
My body is a bundle of nerves, trembling under the weight of his magick. It’s dangerously potent, a searing heat I desperately want to escape from. The realization that I’m not in Avalon, as promised, only adds to my growing sense of unease and confusion.
Why are we here, talking to an angry dragon king who clearly harbors no fondness for Nimue’s plans?
I just want to go to Avalon. I want to see that man again, the one that was trying to get to me from across the river. He can help me. I know he can.
I take a heavy breath in and out. Midén. éna. Dío. Tría. Tésera. Pénde… I count working hard to keep pushing the rising magick inside myself down. I can’t hurt these people.
I don’t want to be stuck in a place filled with angry dragons. I don’t want to be eaten by a dragon…or burned, but that particular thought triggers the memory of my mother’s execution and an overwhelming rush of magick pushes forward and escapes my control. Fuck.
“Melinda,” Nimue gasps, struggling to breathe. “Please, stop. I’m trying to help you.” She’s bent over at the waist, her face twisted into a painful grimace. “You have to control it. He will protect you like a bodyguard and help you control it, I promise.” She points to the man behind the King.
He? Bodyguard? It’s hard to concentrate when my magick is flowing. I try to focus on the man Nimue pointed at. He hasn’t spoken yet. His face is tight, but he’s not physically showing any other response to the pain my magick is causing him. How could a dragon possibly help me control my magick? Why would I need a bodyguard?
“Are you doing this?” the King asks, shifting my attention back to him. His magick tightens around me like a python slowly attempting to squeeze its victim into compliance. But instead it only exacerbates my panic, causing another surge of magick to erupt from me, drawing a groan of pain from all four of them.
“Please stop,” I beg the king, retreating a step. I use every calming trick my mother and father taught me, but I can’t pull the magick back. I can’t stop it.
The original guard takes a step closer and growls. “Stop, or I’ll end you right now.” His hand moves to the hilt of his sword, a clearly defined threat.
“I can’t. You’re scaring me.”
I turn to run from them all, but there are more men–more dragon soldiers lining the courtyard edge. Some are grimacing in pain. Others are snarling, hands turning to claws. I’m so exhausted from my magick exploding in the cave, it’s the only reason no one has died yet here. My magick didn’t have time to completely recharge.
Nimue’s voice envelops me, the haunting melody is oddly soothing, yet I can’t shake the feeling of being manipulated. Still, I welcome calm and control for now… I’m so tired. And I’m so painfully aware of the dragon people’s seething anger around me. I turn to face Nimue, mouthing I’m sorry , silently.
“Take her and leave, Nimue. The deal is off,” King Athanasios says, his words bellowing out of him like a foghorn.
Nimue curls a protective arm around my shoulder. “Oh no you don’t. You owe me Athanasios.”
Even though Nimue’s speaking to the King, I can still hear her singing in my head. My magick is retreating and my nausea is so much less.
The king snarls and takes an aggressive step toward us both, but his wife catches his arm and pulls him back.
The man Nimue said would be my bodyguard steps forward. “I agreed to the bond, my king. Let me do this. Then you and your house will be free of the Siren Queen’s life debt.”
The king nods to the man, giving him permission to step forward.
“What bond? What’s a life debt? I don’t understand what you’re agreeing to.” I’m shaking against Nimue's grasp. “I want to go to Avalon. You said you’d take me to Avalon,” I say, barely whispering the words.
“You need Kellan first. The king owes me a favor and I’m using it to get you a Drakonii bodyguard. He’ll be able to protect you and help you control your magick.”
“Why do I need a bodyguard to go to Avalon?”
“So you don’t kill anyone with that magick of yours. I can’t always be around to calm you down.” She grabs me by both shoulders and looks me square in the eye. “You are the first piece of restoring Avalon to greatness. But your magick is volatile, you need help controlling it.”
“I don’t understand. No one besides you has ever had any effect on me controlling my magick. What makes you think he’ll be able to do anything?”
“Just do as Kellan says and we’ll be on our way to Avalon. He will protect you. No matter what.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s his job,” she snaps back, irritation thick in her tone. “If you want to go to Avalon. This is the only way.” She turns me around and pushes me forward a step toward the waiting warrior–toward the man I assume is Kellan.
He doesn’t look friendly. He looks hard. Like a Navy SEAL actor in a military thriller movie. Unreadable. Dangerous. Like he could snap me in half if he wrapped those giant arms around me and squeezed.
My magick flares at that thought and I see a hint of surprise ripple through his gaze. He felt it, but didn’t buckle. His face is calm. My magick isn’t making him worry, not like it did the other three a few moments ago.
He watches me. No, studies me.
I take a breath and quiet some of the chaos writhing inside me.
He gives a direct tip of his chin. “Good job, Domina. ” He holds out a hand, palm up and waits. His arm is wrapped in iridescent green tattoos that wind around and up his whole arm and shoulder, disappearing beneath the chest-plate and chiton he’s wearing.
“Why are you doing this?” I look up into his dark eyes and notice a glitter of green around the edges of the irises, just like the king had earlier. The dragon part?
“It is an honor to serve my king.”
I nod and try to swallow down the worry knotted in the back of my throat. “How long will you be forced to guard me?”
He growls. “I volunteered to serve. No one forces a Drakonii into anything. Being a somatophylakes is a great honor. There are very few Drakonii with enough skill and control of their dragon to take on a guardianship. I look forward to protecting you and your house for centuries to come.”
My eyes widen. Centuries? Pretty sure he must not know humans only live decades. Still, this whole guardianship thing sounds like a much bigger deal than I originally assumed. “This isn’t like a marriage or anything, is it?” I ask.
His hard features soften slightly and I swear I almost see the tiniest edge of a smile. “No, Domina , I will not be your husband.” He flexes his fingers, indicating again that he wants me to put my hand into his.
I raise my hand midway to his and stop. “What does this do?”
“Melinda.” The impatience and frustration in Nimue’s voice is more than evident.
“It is better than she understands fully, Queen Nimue,” Kellan addresses her directly then turns his intense focus back on me. “This bond will allow me to help you balance your emotions. My beast–my dragon–will be able to reach through the bond to help keep you level and stay in control of your magick.”
My bottom lip trembles. Could it be true? Is there a way that this man can temper my magick so it doesn’t run wild? Tears well up, blinding me. I furiously wipe them away and look back at Kellan.
His gaze is intense, but not impatient. Hard, but not aggressive. He’s not going to force me into this. Like he said no one forced him into volunteering for this position. To be my so-mah-toe -something bodyguard.
I let my gaze drift down to his open and waiting palm again. My breath halts midway to my lungs. There’s a small green slithering dragon-looking tattoo winding and weaving around his hand like it’s alive .
I point instead of putting my hand into his. “Your tattoo. It’s moving. I–”
He nods. “It’s waiting for you to take my hand. A piece of my magick must move to you for the bond to work.”
I swallow hard. “Wait. So that tattoo is going to what… slide over onto my arm?”
“Yes.”
Just. Yes. That’s it. He’s just standing there, waiting.
I hear the water-queen-lady breathing impatiently behind me, but to her credit she keeps her mouth shut while I stare at the living tattoo slithering around in circles on Kellan’s palm. Like small garter snake.
The King and Queen and the other guards are also silent. I steal a quick glance in their direction. The king has his arms folded over his massive chest, but he also doesn’t look impatient or angry anymore. Instead he’s studying me the same way I was studying the dragons in the sky earlier–like I was trying to figure out what I was looking at.
“Are there many kinds of magickal people in your world?”
“In the eight worlds, yes,” Kellan says, keeping his hand outstretched and steady.
I’m staring at the tattoo again. I want to touch it. I’m curious. What will it feel like? Also, eight worlds. That’s interesting. “Drakoné is one of them? Earth is one of them?”
“Yes, Domina. ”
“What does that mean, that word you’re calling me.”
“Lady or mistress. It is a formal respectful way of addressing a woman without another title in my world.”
“You can just call me Melinda.”
He shakes his head. “No. Calling you by your given name would be disrespectful. You are not my wife or a family member.”
“Got it. Okay.” I don’t really, but I can fake it until I do understand more of what’s going on.
A shuffle of footsteps behind me makes me turn. The dragon Queen has stepped forward. “Being taken on by a drakonii is one of the highest honors in the eight worlds. Kings and queens and other royal families apply and wait for decades for an eligible warrior.”
I look between the queen and Kellan. “I am no one,” I finally say. “Why would you be willing to bond to me in this way?”
The dragon queen speaks again. “Queen Nimue saved my husband’s life many years ago. A debt has been owed since. And this is how she has requested the debt be paid. Kellan is showing great honor by fulfilling the debt we owe Queen Nimue.”
I turn to the water lady… to Queen Nimue. “Why would you use such a favor for me?”
“Melinda, you are the beginning. You are the first step in healing what has been broken. You must be protected at all costs and this is the best way I can do that. You are also dangerous and this is the best way to protect everyone else around you too.”
Nimue takes a hesitant step forward. “Please. Do this. I know you feel alone and scared and confused. I know I wasn’t up front with you when I took you here first. But you are the answer, Melinda. And I need you to be safe.”
Safe. There’s that word again. I suck in another deep breath, turn back to Kellan and put my hand into his. “Okay. I accept. Let’s do this.” Water-lady needs me to be safe, but I really need the people around me to be safe and if this is how I accomplish it, then I’ll take the Drakonii warrior.
Kellan’s strong fingers close gently around my hand. There’s a tingle of something similar to static electricity and the tattoo jumps from his hand to mine. It slides along my skin, up my arm then back down, settling into place around my wrist like a bracelet.
I stare at my wrist, then back at Kellan. "That's it? No fireworks, no dramatic light show?"
The corners of his mouth curve up. “That is all, Domina. The bond will allow me to monitor and keep you safe. It will let me know when you are in distress and need my help if we are ever separated. I will give my dying breath to keep you safe.”
I don’t respond. I’m still processing. The way he just explained it, I’ve just let a dragon-dude put a magickal lo-jack on my wrist. And he just pledged some kind of medieval vow to protect me until he dies.
No one's going to try to kill you for protecting me, are they?" I ask, suddenly very worried for his well-being. Have I just signed this guy's death warrant?
“It is quite possible,” Queen Nimue says, her voice somber and very certain.
Well fuck.