Duality (24 page)

Dara assumed they would join the rest of the family, but Loren surprised her by leading her over to a quilt on the ground. “I thought some peace and quiet might be appreciated.” He smiled.

“You were right.” She lowered herself to sit in the center of the quilt, tucking her legs beneath her.

Loren joined her. “Still angry I brought you here?”

“I was furious,” she admitted. “You with your lies and your bossy ways, just deciding what was best for me without so much as a by-your-leave.” She trembled. “I thought I was dead. I never thought you’d come back for me.”

He stiffened. “I told you I would. I do not make promises I do not keep.”

“I know that. But things happened so fast, I thought you’d return to avenge me, not rescue me.” She stared at him, hard. “I’ve seen death by fire. Not a nice way to go.”

Loren gave her an inscrutable look she couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“But now I’m relieved.” Her abrupt change back to the original subject made him blink. She floundered to explain. “Somehow it doesn’t seem so overwhelming here. With other hands and minds on the problem, it’s not such a personal responsibility. I trust your family to do what’s right for everyone.”

“They shall. They see how all things must work together better than most.” Loren stared up at the sky. “The fireworks begin in a few minutes. Relax.”

Trumpets heralded the beginning of the lightshow. She jumped at the first explosion, and Loren sat up to settle her betwixt his legs. She leaned back against his chest, relaxing in the security of his arms. The noise was tremendous, the smell of sulfur and smoke vaguely disturbing. Beautiful pinwheels and waterfalls of light, born in such violence, troubled her if she thought too hard about it. So she simply closed her mind. When it was over, she turned to see Loren staring at her with that disturbingly sober expression. “What?”

“You were enjoying yourself. I did not wish to interrupt.” Loren was quiet for a moment. “Dara, we need to talk. Would you join me in the moonlit gardens? Please, it is important.”

Her skin crawled with foreboding. A sudden impulse made her want to silence him, certain she did not want to hear whatever it was he wished to say. Nay, it wasn’t something he wanted to say. It was something he did not want to say, but something he was certain had to be said all the same. “How mysterious! Every time someone says ‘we need to talk’ it’s never good news.” She searched his face for a clue.

His face gave naught away. He was probably a ruthless howgarth player. “Let Verdeen make your apologies.” He waved the maid over.

“All right.” Dara handed her dance card to the maid. “We’re taking a walk.”

“We shall be in the moonlit gardens,” Loren told Verdeen. “We are to be interrupted only in the event of an emergency.”

“Aye, Highness.”

They had to have a serious conversation here in the garden, after last night? She quivered, recalling the kiss that had all but melted her bones. She was half-afraid he’d choose the same bench—she’d never be able to concentrate. But he took her to the other side of the garden, to a marble bench bathed in a golden light that somehow managed to convey warmth and reassurance.

“Here, sit with me.” Loren pulled Dara down aside him.

Dara perched on the edge. “What’s wrong?”

Loren’s face was serious and uncertain in the dappled moonlight. “I know your mother died when you were very young. Did Fanny or Rufus tell you
anything
about your family history? Your mother and grandmother’s heritage?”

Dara frowned, thinking hard. “Not really, nay. Just that they were great healers, like me.”

“Did you never wonder at your differences from other people? Your sense-casting, your magical healing abilities that come from within, your sensitivity to iron?”

She shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself. “Sometimes. ’Tis hard to be different from everyone else, especially when they’re so intolerant. To have to do everything connected with power or the Lady in secret…” Her voice trailed off, then she took a deep breath. “Hengist can’t protect us forever.”

Loren nodded. “The One Truth. The fires. Dara, did you not notice the fire did not harm you?”

“You rescued me afore it could.” He had come back for her, risked life and limb to do so. He and Hani`ena might have been killed—and it would have been all her fault.

“Nay, Dara.” The intensity of his stare made the breath catch in her throat. “The ropes burned through. Hani`ena’s mane and tail singed. My hands and face blistered; I healed them in the thicket the following night. You were untouched.”

She reached out to caress his healed cheek. ’Twas like he’d never been harmed. “What are you saying?”

“Iron can harm you. Fire cannot.”

Fear built up. This was a new kind of dread. She didn’t want him to say any more. Dara tried to swallow it down. He was trying to tell her something she needed to hear. “What are you saying?”

“Remember how the clan shamans treated you?”

She frowned, trying to remember specifics beyond the healing. “Like an honored guest?”

“Very honored. Like a
guardian
. Remember their words about your people coming from those very mountains, about how long it had been since your kind was there, about your affinity with the other guardian spirits?”

Nay. Blood roared in her ears. “Guardians aren’t human.”

Loren shook his head, placed his hands on her shoulders. “Nay, Dara. They are not.”

“But
I
am.
Look
at me.” She held up her hands. “Five fingers, two arms, skin. I walk. I talk. Do I look like a wolf or a bear? I am
not
a guardian.”

“I
am
looking.” Loren’s hands tightened. “You’re beautiful, compassionate and brave. You care about others—you put their welfare above your own, even face death to protect another. Like a guardian. Your father was human, Dara. Your mother, and all afore her, were draconian queens. Shapeshifters. You are half human—and half dragon.”

Breathe
. She panted until she was dizzy, tried to slow the pulse hammering through her body until she wanted to jump out of her skin to escape it. “Dragon,” she repeated like a simpleton.
Nay
. “You’re mad. I can’t shapeshift.”

“Nay, you are but half dragon. Your human blood prevents full shapeshifting. But on the battlefield when you hit the Boars with the power shockwave?”

Oh, Lord and Lady. He would bring up that mistake. “I lost control.” Such a slip could have gotten them both killed.

“You shimmered when you did it. I guess your human half prevented the transformation your dragon half attempted.”

She shuddered.
Naynaynay. Lady, make him stop. I don’t want to hear anymore
. “I’m not human.”

He brushed the very human red hair from her face. Dragons didn’t have hair. They had scales, wings, teeth and flames. She had none of those. He was wrong. Wrongwrongwrong. This was all a bad dream.

“Nay, Dara. You are not,” he stated gently. “But neither am I. Does that make me less of a person?”

Time to wake up… “It’s not the same thing.”

“Aye, it is.” He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her.

She clung to him, grateful for his support. He rubbed comforting circles on her back with his hands. The hands of a warrior. Strong, with sword calluses. Capable. Warm. So warm…

“There are many non-human peoples in this world—elves, trolls, dwarves, goblins…and dragons. Only men would be so arrogant as to think otherwise. Please do not make the same mistake.” He paused. “Who knows but all this came together for you to learn the truth of your being? Would you go through life not fitting in but never knowing why?”

She flinched. Could the Hand be that manipulative? Had Mag died for naught other than a lesson? She recalled the old tree sprite, the woman in the prison. Dragon’s blood, that let her see Jalad for what he truly was.

“Would you hide and deny forever who and what you are?” Loren continued relentlessly. “Trust your own good sense. You know what I say is true.”

Dara swallowed hard, took a deep shuddering breath. His words made sense in a horrible sort of way. Her temper. Her love of combat. Her disaffinity for other animals. Her need to protect others and her intolerance of bullies. Now she had a reason why she didn’t fit in with the rest of the villagers.

But if she wasn’t human, then she was in the same danger of persecution as the elves. Would she spend the rest of her days hiding behind barriers too?

“Nay. It is not a dragon’s nature to hide.” Loren’s voice was sad. “It should not be the elves’, either.”

Curse empathy. It must be a heavy burden to feel everyone around. “Can you turn it off?”

He shrugged. “Shields help, but nay. It is more help than hindrance, though, and I am used to it.” He smiled. “There you go, worrying about others again. We were discussing you, not me.”

She didn’t want to hear any more and leaned forward to brush his lips with hers. Anything to make him stop talking. She slid her hands through his hair, holding him to her so she could tease his tongue with hers. For a moment Loren’s hold tightened, and he returned her kiss with a desperation that almost matched her own. Then he groaned and sat back, untangling her fingers from his hair and setting her from him.

“Nay,” he said. “We have not finished this discussion.”

Dara growled. He didn’t even blink. Fine. “Your Granna Lorelei mentioned a torque…”

Loren went very still. “Aye. The blood torque. It has belonged to at least six draconian queens of which we know. You would be the seventh generation. It can guide its wearer with information and the past memories of the others, but it is also a focus stone for magical power, and that makes it something of which to be cautious.”

So her being a dragon didn’t scare him, but a mere necklace did? Strange man. “Why do they call it the blood torque?”

“It was created by your family ages ago; dragons are very long-lived. It has been kept in and keyed to your family. It shall work for no other. But if you do not accept it, your descendants would be unable to use it. The line would be broken.”

She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I have so little from my real family, and I know even less. I must confess I’m…curious. Where is it kept?”

“Warded in Granna’s treasury tower. Being a dragon piece, water magic is an effective block.”

“I would like to see it, afore I lose my nerve.” She glared at him. “I’m making no promises beyond that.”

He nodded and rose, held out a hand to her. “Come.”

Her mind and soul were in such turmoil she barely noticed the route, only that they climbed up and up and up a winding stone staircase for what seemed like forever. Too soon they arrived at the top of the tower, and stood afore a solid wooden door barred by a bronze bolt as long as her forearm.

Dara took a deep breath of dry dusty air and drew back the latch. The door pivoted open on well-oiled hinges. She glanced at Loren.

His eyes glowed in lamplight. “Whenever you are ready.”

She stepped through the doorway, and something cold and wet passed over her as she entered the room. It was a horrible clammy sensation, suffocating, in its own way worse than the iron- poisoning, and she shuddered. “What
was
that?”

“Water wards.”

Everywhere jewels shone in the flickering lamplight. Deep red rubies reminded her of drops of fresh blood. The clear bottomless blue of sapphires reflected the ocean at the edge of the world. Pieces of the moon had fallen to earth as gleaming pearls. The clarity of emeralds and the smoky, mysterious haze of jade hinted at every shade of forest and glen. Diamond shards of glacial ice took their color from whatever they lay closest to.

The sheer vastness of the wealth made Dara’s head swim. One stone would feed her village for a year. To the royals they were pretty trinkets. Except for…

She picked up a small jewel-encrusted dagger. It was slim and perfectly balanced. Something pulled at the edge of her consciousness; a not-quite-audible hum sent a pulse of energy skittering along under her skin. She flinched. She was getting all too used to what that particular sensation meant. Magic. The tang of metal made her mouth water, and she sneezed from the dust. The sense of age was a tangible weight on her soul.

In a trance, listening to something not-quite-music, she stretched out a hand and stepped over to an imposing side-buffet. She reached toward the small box of stamped copper, which was the sole occupant of the surface. Dara cocked her head to one side, humming under her breath as she flipped the lid up.

She caught her breath. Nestled in a bed of black silk was a gold torque, antique in style and finish, with the dulled patina of great age and a surprising neglect. A great stone glowered up at her, the dark, sullen red of drying blood.

“Feared…forgotten…so alone…” Dara no longer sensed Loren’s presence behind her. Something called, blocking him. Blocking all else. Of its own volition, the dragon within reached toward the jeweled torque. The human was unable to resist the compulsion.

“Come to usss
.” Half a dozen voices echoed like a chorus in her mind. They swallowed her whole world. “
For unssspeakable agesss have we awaited thee, She Kahn Androclesss. Pick usss up. Hold usss. Tell usss thy name and thy most sssecret desiresss. Join with usss. We are come from afore, the power which wasss, isss and shalt be. We are thy mother’sss, thine, thy daughter’sss. Thou art oursss. Ssso it hassst ever been. Ssso it shalt alwaysss be.”