Burn (Dragon Souls) (36 page)

She had to finish Aver. Nothing could stand in the way of that.

She’d keep it a secret a little longer. The otherness wasn’t making her black out to control her like those other women. There was a day of rest between quests instead of a week. She’d gather her family and tell them after the forth quest was done.

They’d get through it together.

She ended up in the Courtyard and glanced about blindly.

“You look lost.” Anastasia waved her over. She sat on a grassy hummock sharpening her sword. The customarily unapproachable woman was dressed in a flowing robe the colour of rich wine. The artfully wrapped fabric accentuated her statuesque figure. Sun-coloured hair cascaded to her shapely waist making her look breathtakingly feminine, her features delicate, and her expression peaceful.

It was so unlike the angry warrior Marina expected, she stood rooted, astonished.

“Come,” Anastasia insisted. “Sit by me.”

Marina folded next to her in disorientated silence.

“You should be resting.” Anastasia admonished her without looking up from her task. She stopped, laughing prettily. “Are you tired of hearing that yet? Aleksandr says nothing else.” Her smile, blatantly mischievous, was filled with sisterly affection. “I admit I came here to aggravate him. Big brothers make it so easy. He was appointed my guardian when I was a girl, as Lord Nikolai is yours. I would hide from him for days. He would track me in
dragonskin
, but by then I had begun training. I would lay false trails into the mountains ending in lava pools and treacherous gullies, as if I’d had an accident. How he cursed me when I appeared hale during his panicked flight back to our territory.” Tittering, she returned to dotingly tending the arc of steel across her lap.

Marina was staggered to see the woman so relaxed. Trusting her with obviously precious memories from her past. “May I ask you something?”

“Ask.”

“Koen doesn’t like you because of how you behave during the Hunt.”

Lips compressing, Anastasia paused her labours. A voice forced even replied. “You seek to judge me?” The warrior emerged to protect the vulnerable woman within.

“I want to understand. Daniil told me the Hunt is brutal, but I never thought about it that way until now. Was it arrogance to assume it would be otherwise for me? The longer I’m here the more I find myself changing. I want to know how far I’ll go.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Who would I destroy to make Koen mine?”

Anastasia sighed. She saw to the heart of what Marina feared. Her rhythmic motions ceased. “Tatiana.”

The last remaining female Raad was one of the Fallen, kidnapped by Anastasia during the last tournament to lure to the Dragon King into a trap. The young woman now lay unmoving, dying, as her body withered.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves above them, infusing the air with a hint of earthy freshness.

Flowers twirled and danced in the golden rays of sunlight, floating around them in playful spirals then blanketed the mossy grass.

“Not just that,” Marina said finally, breaking the respectful silence. “I found Koen after he crossed dimensions. Watched him plummet from the fiery clouds like some primeval god.” Marina turned accusing at the memory of his ravaged scales and bloodied side. House Vor caused monumental pain to the people she loved. That she would never forget. “You hurt them so badly. You hurt
him
.”

“He is King.” Anastasia didn’t flinch under the blame. “He was born to survive us, I promise you.” Her gaze took on a speculative slant, chin hitching up. “So you seek to avenge her? Bloody me as I did him?”

“I thought about it. I hated you.”

“You feared I loved him.” Anastasia tossed her head, as if the mention was ludicrous.

“Oh, no, I know you are all about being Empress.”

“Katya was the fool who thought she could win his love.” Derision filled chilly blue eyes. “Some females are irrational that way. They think they simply have to be more attractive than their rivals. They overlook the intangible bond between true mates. They do not see past their own desire to the heart of the male.”

“You still plan to Hunt Koen, knowing what’s between me and him is real. That’s another kind of denial.”

“Ah, but I would not care if he took you as his mistress.”

“So you could take your own lover?”

“Do not be stupid. No female claimed by the Dragon King could take another.” Anastasia did not react to Marina’s shocked look. “All Katya had to do was follow the rules for her chance.”

Marina hissed.

Her indignation had Anastasia clucking. “It is not wise to ignore the truth. While Koen Raad the man is dedicated to you the inner beast is attracted to power. Like draws like, Princess. If you were not naturally strong enough to beat Katya it might not have been as easy to hold the Dragon’s heart. It is foolish to assume otherwise.”

Marina’s features pinched tight. She sat on her hands, dug them into the bristly sward to keep from lashing out. Possessive rage warred in her heart at a vision of Koen choosing the treacherously beautiful Lady Ja.

The otherness crouched. Plotted a murder with cold-blooded calculation.
Hunt, bite, and burn her.

“I don’t agree,” Marina grated at length.

She avoided the fellow Chosen’s eyes. The truth of her savage reaction glared too brightly there.

Sensing she pushed too far, Anastasia let it drop. “We must appear barbaric to you.” She stared pensively into the distance. Her features twisted and became perturbed. “I must seem so
callous.
Bah, you did not grow up with the lessons of legendary women as we did. Strength is revered in the Dragon Lands as a woman’s true beauty, not the symmetry of her face, or the bounce of her breasts. The only thing the males demand is we keep our hair long.” She rubbed an errant strand curling up from Marina’s crown. Her sigh was wistful. “I would have shorn mine long ago if it were more accepted. It annoys me when they call you deformed. All I see is the practicality of it.” She ran a hand through her tresses then dismissively flicked the heavy mass over her shoulder, deeply tanned by the sun. Her eyes met Marina’s longing ones. She smirked at the appreciation of her physical beauty. “You wish to conform now?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then why do you grow it?”

“For Koen.” Marina blushed. “He likes to rub his snout over it. I think it feels good on his scales.”

Anastasia laughed delightedly. “Well, that is your choice and a sweet one. Aside from their fixation with our hair, Tzioni men know better than to treat their females poorly. Thinking so little of our capabilities would mean their death.” Her expression turned fierce. She used the hilt of her sword to jab the air and ram her point home. “I would cut a male gizzard to gut if he dared insinuate my beauty was greater than my
warskill
.” She sniffed. “And I am very beautiful.” Satisfied Marina comprehended, she lightened up. “I hear tales of how females are treated in the human dimension. It disgusts me. Why they put up with it I cannot understand.” Shrugging, Anastasia sheathed her weapon to set it carefully aside. She turned and faced Marina fully. “I do not regret who I am. There are times I wonder how different my life would be had I chosen another path, but no, I do not regret. That would be weak.” Her face was hauntingly sincere. The sinewy cords in her neck tensed into stark relief as she laid herself bare. “I have harmed good people during Aver. I killed during the Hunt, mercilessly, used emotional bait to lure the Dragon King to me, and attempted to gain any and all advantage against my competitors – you included. I am destined to lead.” It was said simply without pride. “Other women look to me for strength. My House needs me to defend it. It is my duty and my honour to be their sword. I am ruthless because I must be.” Her gaze drilled into Marina’s, holding it captive with unwavering certainty. “I do not regret nor would I take anything back.” Closing her eyes, Anastasia enjoyed the breeze on her skin. A single tear streaked down her cheek. “Do not be afraid to become who you were meant to be. No matter what they think. No matter they say.”

Humbled by the purity of this wisdom, Marina respectfully inclined her head.

Anastasia didn’t try to justify her past deeds. She owned up to them – claimed them. Lady Vor made no apologies for who and what she was. She was a Queen, and refused to act with anything less than the whole of her warrior soul.

Something she said stuck out.

Marina knew it revealed more than the Chosen intended. Leaning closer, puckish, her lips curved. “He still loves you, you know. And I think you care much more than you let on.”

Eyes popping open the woman blushed vivid crimson. Chuckled throatily. “I had wondered.” Quieting, her gaze turned playful. She breathed a hopeless little sigh. “I like you, Marina. But I vowed to kill you for coveting my Crown.” She directed her a look of wide-eyed challenge.

Marina snorted. Tipping her head back, she looked down her nose, imperious. “Keep it. Stay the hell away from my Wreath.” They locked gazes. “Glad that’s sorted.”

“Poor Galina.” Anastasia said it in a tone that left Marina in no doubt the woman reserved no true pity for the absent First Chosen.

Enjoying the easygoing camaraderie, Marina thought of Cathryn. Her arrival had been awesome for all of a day. Their argument dragged up some deep shit, and upset the harmony of their bond. It had left Marina wary of forming another female friendship. She missed having her girlfriend to bitch to. It was made worse by the fact Cathryn wasn’t a dimension away, but just seven fortifications up.

Anastasia of House Vor was vicious, committed terrible deeds in the name of honour, but there was a softer side nice to be around.

Sensing a softening within, Marina cut the tender feelings dead. The other Chosen would exploit them in a heartbeat if it guaranteed her the ultimate victory.

After Aver they could be friends. Until then....

“Touch Koen again and I’ll kill you.”

Quick as a flash Anastasia grabbed her around the neck to yank her closer. She knocked their foreheads together, and gave her haughtiest warrior glare.

Both women blinked.

Stifled giggles.

Anastasia’s grin was warm, gaze weighted with respect. “I expected nothing less.”

“Good. I’d hate for you to be shocked after I was done thrashing your ass.” Marina held up her hand. “Hit me.”

Anastasia eyed her curiously then grinned, catching on.

They bumped fists.

“Ah, my sister-Queen.” The Chosen stood, dusted off her hands then clasped Marina’s forearm to pull her onto her feet. “Let us see who stands after this so called thrashing.”

H
igh off the jungle floor, Marina raced along a tree branch heedless of the killer drop should she falter. Her knees kicked high and her arms pumped furiously.

Abraded hands batted aside broad leaves, taking damage as spiny branches tore at her face, her hair, ripped gaping holes in her tunic, and left smears of pungent, whitish sap on her leathers.

She vaguely heard the delicate
thump, thump, thump
, of feet hitting bark coming from the trees beside her. The sounds of pursuit grew more obvious. The snap of twigs and whispery rustle of foliage told her one of the Chosen gained on her – fast.

The opening quest had been a rescue impeded by enemy guards, the second a demonstration of the ability to safely escort a vulnerable asset through hostile territory.

This quest was a footrace through hell.

Thousands of years ago, the original Queen received an urgent message the Emperor fought off an ambush and needed his mate. She’d left her army in the dust running to him. The ancient story ended well for the Dragons, not so well for the Mages, who were burnt to death in sight of their home, the Westlands, which the Dragons called the Wastelands. It was a message that basically communicated, “We are not fucking around.” A message that was reiterated when the families of the Battle Mages were given leave to cross the border and collect the crispy shells of their once loved ones.

A lot of bitterness there
, Marina thought idly as her lower stomach cramped.

The Chosen placed first at the end of the third quest got to choose her placement in the arena for the concluding quest.

She’d made Jakob stop talking when he coolly spoke of saber-toothed tigers captured from the jungle – the very one she ran in – and wrestling the other Chosen in a mud slick.

Apparently the ancient Virgin Queens had been aspiring porn stars as well as mate to the Dragon King.

Chest heaving as she reached the end of the knobby tree limb, she extended her stride into a leaping bound. Both boots landed solid. She crouched, leg muscles bunching.

The otherness tensed with anticipation, coiling Marina’s sensory expectations higher.

The world tunnelled into an olive-hued blur as she launched herself head first into the air.

Her reaching fingers curled around the crooked length of a liana
,
snapped closed
,
and her body jarred as she was wrenched into a horizontal arc. Dangling legs pulled closed as she locked her muscles into a straight arrow. She hurtled through the moist, insect-laden air. Wind blown hair flat against her scalp, her scream of exhilaration was a ghoulish echo the birds mimicked in ear splitting trills.

As it turns out, the third time you swung across a sixty-foot chasm holding onto nothing but a noodle-like-plant was just as heart stopping as the first.

A tree trunk loomed.

Tiers of branches stuck out of the leviathan-sized plant.

Marina released the vine, plunging in a ten-foot free fall before adroitly latching onto a limb sturdy enough to bear her weight.

Well, she less ‘latched-on’ than ‘fell-flat-on-her-stomach’ onto it. The collision knocked the air and good sense out of her. She scrambled for a hold when it seemed she’d slip off the rounded branch, digging her fingers into the rough bark. Her legs hung in nothing but air, but she didn’t kick, conserving energy.

A line of fiery ants swarming the bloated carcass of a lizard marched past her nose. She frantically blew on the thumbnail-sized beastie that broke rank to investigate her face with its segmented antenna. So focused on the ant was she, the hairy tarantula that crawled past her straining fingers escaped notice.