Dragon Wife (4 page)

Orwenna trembled, her hands balling into fists. How could he be so cold? For the first time, she felt something like hatred as she met his hard stare.

“May I ask, who this Rollin is and why I should bother to charm him? Does he have a title or great holdings? I’ve never heard him mentioned at court.”

“Isn’t it enough that I’ve chosen him to be your husband?” Lord Darius’s stony face showed irritation.

“Actually, no. It isn’t.” Orwenna stood and began to pace. “I am the king’s niece. If you feel compelled to marry me off, at least have the decency to choose someone of my own rank.” It might not be a perfect strategy, but at this point she’d raise any objection possible.

“Rollin is worthy,” Lord Darius stated grimly. “If you must know, he was first mate on my ship, and he did an exemplary job.”

“A first mate. Honestly, Father I…”

“Silence! You will listen, Orwenna, and understand that I am completely sure of this match. Nothing will move me to break it.”

“Why?” Her voice shook with frustration and also with the pain of his indifference.

“Rollin saved my life. It is the greatest gift one man can give another, and I promised him your hand in return.”

“I see.” There was something in her father’s face, a certain light in his eyes that told her he wouldn’t budge. “You truly don’t care if this makes me miserable?”

“Rollin won’t make you miserable,” he scoffed. “You’re being melodramatic.”

“I’m telling you how I feel.”

“Well, don’t.” He stood abruptly, taking a step toward her. “You’re making a silly fuss over nothing. Whether you believe it or not, I took your happiness into consideration with this. I know Rollin well, and he’s a solid lad. He’ll make a fine husband for you and a fine heir for me. He’s like the son I never had.”

“How nice for you.”

“Orwenna, I know you love Mirra Muir.” Her father’s tone softened. “That’s why you should embrace this marriage. With Rollin, you won’t have to leave and make your home with a stranger’s family. You can stay where you’ve always been, doing what you have always done.”

What he said made sense. She’d dreaded the eventuality of leaving Mirra Muir to marry. Now she wouldn’t have to.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll concede that point. At least you’re not shipping me off to some hinterland in the north.”

“Exactly.” He let out a short sigh of relief. “I knew you would see reason. You’ve always been a sensible girl.”

“Thank you.” It was as close to praise as she was likely to get.

“You know, Orwenna, that’s why I’ve trusted you with caring for the estate while I’m gone. It’s because I know you’re capable.” He offered a faint smile. “Things will go on, just as they have. When Rollin and I are away, you’ll oversee things, and when we return, you can focus on mothering…and such. It will work out nicely.”

Orwenna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Things were becoming crystal clear. No wonder her father was set on this marriage, as it gave him the best of both worlds. He got a son-in-law and heir, without having to find an estate manager to replace her. It was a handy arrangement.

“I’m tired from the journey,” she said. “Can we be done now?”

“Certainly. It’s good you’ve come around.”

“I’m not happy about this, Father. You sprang it on me out of the blue, and I haven’t even met the man. But I will think about what you’ve said, and I’ll try to like him.” What else could she do?

“That’s acceptable.” He looked smug, as if this had been easier than expected.

“Please leave.” She pointed at the door, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

“Tomorrow then,” her father said. He turned and strode out of the room. As the door closed behind him, Orwenna crumpled to the floor, hands to her face, unable to hold off crying any longer. This was not the life she had hoped for.

Chapter Two

Huroth banked to the side, then dropped, bolt-straight, down through a layer of cloud. Moisture beaded on his scales and slicked the leathery surface of his wings. Below him, Harith sped out of his path then rolled in a tight circle to spear toward Huroth’s belly. Huroth gave one powerful thrust of his wings and evaded the attack.

The two dragons locked talons, testing each other’s strength and skill as they plummeted toward the ground, only to pull apart at the last minute and soar upwards again.

Better.
Huroth sent the thought to Harith, pleased with his son’s improvement. The lad wasn’t yet full grown, but he could put up a decent fight. By the time he was in his prime, he’d make a daunting foe.

I almost had you,
Harith sent back, giving a wide dragon grin.

He was smaller than his father, but the resemblance between them was obvious in the shape of their heads, the proportion of limbs, and their long spiked tails. Where the father’s scales were obsidian with a bluish sheen, the son’s were smoky black, edged in bronze. He had his mother’s dark and lustrous eyes.

Huroth wished Neria was alive to see Harith mature. It would have made her proud. Unfortunately, she was killed in the Trolkin war, and the last time she saw her son he was too young to fly.

Don’t get cocky,
Huroth sent, as they turned toward Dragonvale.
You’re still leaving your right flank open, and you over-reach. A serious opponent could take your throat out.

Harith grumbled.
I thought you said I was getting better.

You are. But there’s more work to do.

Below them a glacier-cut valley opened, colorful as a jeweled pendant, nestled between the grey mountains. The new spring grass was peridot, the cedars emerald, and the stream flashed sapphire. Early wildflowers scattered the meadow in clusters of purple, yellow, and white. Above it all loomed a steep rock wall, into which the dragon clan’s home was set.

For those who remained in drake form, the dragon caves were large enough to accommodate. For others, who preferred eldrin form, there were quarters carved into the cliff face, complete with beds, tables, chairs, and fireplaces hewn from the bedrock itself. The work had been completed by trolkin, in years long before the war. They were masters of stone-craft, making the rooms inviting, as well as functional.

Extensive corridors connected the dragon caves with these smaller rooms, which were all placed along the cliff side for natural lighting. Corridors led to a communal hall and kitchen, as well as to the valley floor.

Throughout, an ingenious system of ducts had been carved, in order to channel water from a boiling spring deep within the mountain. This kept the rooms a comfortable temperature and provided hot water for washing.

Though Dragonvale had been abandoned for centuries, during the clan’s spellbound sleep, its basic structure remained sound. It required only cleaning and minor refurbishment to be made livable once more.

Many of the rooms still lay empty, as only ten members of the clan had been found and freed. Though Huroth and the others continued to search the mountains, no more dragons could be located. It was a source of great concern, as only two of the ten were she-dragons, and one of those was well past child-bearing age.

The threat of extinction loomed ever-present in Huroth’s mind. He was chieftain, responsible for the well-being and longevity of his clan. Forcing Vardis to break their icy prisons had only been the start. After that, finding viable mates became essential.

That was why he struck the deal with King Elric of Rhelaun. Unions between dragon and human were rare but not unheard of. The offspring couldn’t shift to drake form, but they could link minds like dragons. Often they were stronger and heartier than their human kin, and their lifespans were significantly longer.

If the human parent had magical abilities, then the offspring were even more likely to thrive and hold their own among the dragons. Vardis made it clear that magic ran in his family. So, to Huroth’s thinking, they became a valuable source for mates. Though most of his clan was reluctant to embrace this solution, he felt it was vital for their survival.

In the last seven years, only Nelek had found himself a human mate. She was a peasant girl from a village in the foothills. Her sense of adventure and willingness to become a dragon wife had impressed Huroth, but sadly it came to nothing. She and her baby died in childbirth, leaving Nelek heartbroken.

This only increased the dragons’ belief that humans were frail and insufficient. None of the other males wanted to follow in Nelek’s footsteps. So the clan still numbered only ten. Thankfully, Abeah was now giving birth to her first child, conceived with her mate Rhourik.

This was why Huroth had taken Harith out for a training session. The tension of waiting and wondering how the labor would proceed was too much. Huroth might not be the baby’s father, but he was leader of the clan. The arrival of a healthy new dragon would be cause for much celebration, especially if it was female. But if things went wrong…well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

As Huroth swept down to land in the largest dragon cave, he saw his second in command waiting. Greylor was a formidable warrior, with scrapes and gouges scarring his green scales. His battered face was smiling, so Huroth knew things must have gone well.

It’s a she-dragon.
Greylor sent the thought before Huroth’s feet touched down.
A fine little beauty she is too, with blue scales like Abeah and a bit of Rhourik’s green around the crest and tail. You should go see her.

Huroth’s heart leapt. It was the best possible news. She-dragons seldom had more than two or three offspring over the course of their lives. That Abeah’s first should be a female was blessing indeed.

Perhaps I should wait,
Huroth sent.
They must need rest.

It was a quick, easy birth,
Greylor responded.
Abeah’s made of strong stuff.

Praise Oatha for that.

She wants to see you.

Where are they now?

Huroth knew that Abeah had planned to birth her baby in drake form, but she might have shifted since then. He and Harith had been gone a long time.

Abeah left the birthing cave a while ago,
Greylor answered.
They’ll be down in her chambers.

Huroth hurried toward the corridor which led from the cave to the lower quarters. As he moved, he shifted form, the air roiling and thickening around him. It was as natural to him as breathing.

The magic of their ancestors was so strong that dragons were born with the instinct. No one had to teach them how, and they never seemed to forget. Only the curse of a trolkin collar could keep them from shifting.

Even in eldrin form, Huroth was six foot, four. He had to stoop through the archway, his head almost brushing the ceiling as he jogged down the smooth sloping corridor. The third chamber along was Abeah’s. He slowed and rapped on the door.

“Come in,” she called.

He entered, noting the blazing fire in the hearth, built up to keep the infant warm. The room was comfortably proportioned with thick cushions to soften the stone furnishings, and bear-fur rugs on the floor.

Abeah was sitting close to the fireplace, cuddling her daughter. They had both changed to eldrin form, the baby mimicking her mother’s shift. With dragons this synchronicity continued for a month or so, the new offspring mirroring whatever form the mother took. Life in the womb forged a potent connection which took time to fade.

The baby resembled Abeah, with dark hair, pale skin, and indigo eyes. Her tiny hands were curled together, tucked under a small pointed chin.

“She’s perfect,” Huroth said. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Abeah gave him a slow smile.

She was a beauty in both drake and eldrin forms, but now in the glow of new motherhood, she was spectacular. Her skin shimmered with a silvery radiance, and her eyes were luminous. For a moment Huroth regretted that he wasn’t her mate, before pushing the thought away.

When the clan was first found and freed, Abeah offered herself to Huroth, but he declined. It had been the right decision. He was fortunate enough to find his son among the survivors. It would have been selfish to then claim the young she-dragon for himself. There were six other adult males to consider.

There was also the issue of Abeah’s personality. She was moody and mercurial, too much like Huroth’s first mate, Neria. He was in no hurry to revisit that kind of stress.

Abeah resented his rejection but eventually moved on to choose Rhourik. He was an affable young male with tawny hair and wide green eyes. Where he was like summer sunshine, she was moonlight and frost. They frequently clashed, but thankfully for the clan, they’d managed to create a healthy baby.

“Where is Rhourik?” Huroth asked, having expected the happy father to be present.

“I sent him for firewood. He was fussing around like a grandmother. I had to do something with him.”

“You must both be very proud.”

“We are,” Abeah answered. “Valla is exactly what we wanted.”

“Valla?” Huroth tested the name. “That’s a good strong choice.”

“Oh, she will be strong…and fierce too.” Abeah stroked her daughter’s cheek then gave Huroth an appraising look.

“You realize how this changes things?” she asked, never taking her eyes off him.

“It gives us greater hope.”

“That’s not exactly what I mean.” There was a glint in Abeah’s eyes.

“Oh?” Huroth wasn’t sure where this was going, but he had a bad feeling.

“We don’t need the humans.” Abeah spoke slowly for emphasis.

Huroth forced himself to wait several seconds before responding, holding back the aggravation which flared at her words. It wasn’t the first time Abeah had beaten this particular drum.

“I know your opinion,” he said, “but my decision stands. Valla’s arrival is wonderful, but it doesn’t change our basic situation.”

“How can you say that?” As Abeah’s voice rose, the baby stirred and let out a short cry.

“Valla is only one she-dragon. That’s not nearly enough.”

“But what if I have another?” Abeah countered. “And we’re sure to find more dragons eventually. They can’t all be dead.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve given up too soon and bound us to a useless alliance with an inferior race.”