chapter Six
Drake took the stairs to the Lair wing of the castle with a heavy heart. This part of the mountain fortress was where he’d been born and raised among the knights and dragons that crowded the massive halls of the public areas. He saw many people he recognized from his youth, though few now recognized him. Still, many did double takes as he passed, and he knew it was because he looked so like his blood-father.
He walked quickly, not allowing himself to be drawn into conversation with any of those who looked at him with questions in their eyes. Let them wonder. The evening ahead would be tough enough without questions from well-meaning childhood acquaintances to delay the inevitable confrontation between himself and Sir Declan.
Drake turned purposefully into the hall that led to the knights’ and dragons’ private quarters. This hall was one of many in the huge Lair, but Drake knew it well. This way led home.
He arrived in front of the massive entranceway much sooner than he could have wished. Drake stood a moment, taking in the ornate door inset with carved, painted dragons—representations of Lilla and Arlis, the red and gold dragons who lived within the large suite. It was beautiful work, done by one of the knights who’d been apprenticed as a young boy to a fine woodcarver before being chosen—much to his surprise—as a knight. He’d done it as a gift, and much of his work now graced the already elegant castle. It was his hobby now, though it brought great joy to his friends and other recipients of his majestic gifts.
All of the family names were carved into the beautiful door. Drake stared at his own name for long moments…and the name directly next to his. Jenet.
There was room for more in the design, presumably for when Jenet chose a partner and mated. Drake had always wished deep in his heart of hearts it would be his name, linked with Jenet’s as her knight partner.
But those were foolish, boyhood dreams. He loved Jenet too much to saddle her with a partner who was nowhere near good enough to even be a knight. No, Drake had learned that his talents lay elsewhere. He was a grand spy, a lauded bard and an all-around magnificent sneak. The more knightly skills were not for him. He’d left most of them behind when he left through this very door all those years ago.
Drake had grown and changed a lot since then. He’d become comfortable in his skin, learning who he was without the specter of his blood-father looming large over his shoulder in everything he did. It had been rough at first, but Drake was satisfied now with the way it had all turned out. All…except for Jenet.
She was an ache in his heart that had never healed. Now, being near her again, he felt the happiness that had been missing from his life for so long. Now he felt complete. And it was entirely too dangerous a feeling.
He knew he still had to let her go when he left once more. This time, though, the pain of separation just might kill him. He didn’t want to make it any harder on her, so he had to keep his distance. It was the only way to protect her.
“Are you going to stand there all day or work up the nerve to actually go in?” Lilla’s amused voice sounded through Drake’s mind. He turned his head to find the giant dragon who had been a second mother to him had somehow managed to sneak up on him in the wide hall. He’d been so distracted he’d been unaware of the massive creature’s approach.
“I’m not sure, Mama Lil.” Drake shook his head, chuckling at himself.
“It won’t be so bad,” Lilla encouraged him. “You’ll see.” Lilla moved closer and lovingly butted him in the chest with her head. It was a sign of affection, and Drake returned it by rubbing behind her eye ridges in the way he knew she liked.
Without warning, the doors opened from within and Drake turned to find Ren and Elena there, watching him. Drake’s gaze shot back to Lilla, her head rising now as she shuffled through the door, pushing Drake along with her.
“You told Ren I was dithering outside the door, didn’t you?”
“Well, I couldn’t let you stand out there in the hall all night while your dinner was getting cold.”
Drake’s mother grabbed him in a fierce hug, having to reach up now, though they’d been about the same height when he’d left.
“Drake, my darling boy! You’re as tall as your fathers now, aren’t you?” Elena stood back to look at him, tears of joy in her beautiful eyes.
“Or maybe you just got shorter?” He couldn’t resist teasing her, and she chuckled with that tinkling sound of happiness he remembered so well. He’d always loved his mother deeply, and the intervening years hadn’t changed that at all.
Ren grasped his hand and pulled him in for a quick hug. They were about the same size now, though Ren was just slightly shorter than Declan and now Drake as well.
“Come on in,” Ren invited. “Supper’s ready. We’ve been waiting for you.” Ren ushered him farther into the oval chamber that housed the dragons’ large wallow. Arlis was there, as gleaming and golden as ever, watching over Jenet, who jumped up, sand flying everywhere when she saw Drake. Within seconds, she was at his side, rubbing her neck against him familiarly as she had when she was just a baby dragonet.
“I’m so glad you’re back, Drake.”
He didn’t have the heart to crush the hope in Jenet’s rare, fire opal eyes. He scratched her scales and petted her neck. “It’s good to be back, sweetheart.” Drake realized he meant it and the idea was startling. Never would he have thought his return would feel like this, though in the early years of his self-imposed exile he’d thought through this scene many times.
They walked together to the dining area, though Jenet remained outside the chamber itself, only craning her neck through the wide threshold, as did her parents. Declan was already seated at one end of the table, Ren took his place at the other, just as it had always been in their home. Drake’s stomach clenched as Declan rose, meeting his gaze.
“Be welcome, Drake.” Declan gestured to Drake’s seat, and Drake moved forward a bit awkwardly, first to assist his mother, as politeness demanded, then himself. The food was already on the large table, and Drake saw that his mother had indeed made all his favorite dishes.
“This looks really wonderful, Mother. Thank you.”
Declan cleared his throat, then said a quick, respectful prayer to the Mother of All to thank Her for Her bounty. Drake was shocked when his gruff blood-father added a line of thanks for returning their son to the family.
They began the meal in awkward silence until finally Drake couldn’t take it anymore. There were things he wanted to say—things he needed to say to these people before they could begin to truly be a family again—if that’s what they all really wanted. For himself, Drake wasn’t so sure. He had his own life now and it was a good one. He was well-known and respected in the five lands he claimed as home. He’d done good service for his true homeland and would continue to do so, regardless of how things stood with his family.
Drake set down his fork, his thoughts churning.
“Don’t you like the green beans?” His mother watched his plate as carefully as she had when he was six and tried to con Jenet into eating his vegetables.
“The beans are fine, Mother.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “But there are a few things that need saying.”
Everyone at the table set aside their utensils, Declan last of all. The knight raised his blue eyes and met Drake’s gaze across the breadth of the table.
“You’re right, son. Say your piece.”
Drake’s back went up, just as it so often had when he was younger. He didn’t need Declan’s permission to speak, but with the wisdom of years, Drake reined in his hot temper. He recognized the bold, dominant streak in Declan that he’d come to know in himself over the years. They both shared the need to be the alpha male, which was probably why they’d clashed so much as Drake grew into a man.
“Thank you, Father.” Drake nodded, glad to see Declan start a little with surprise at his measured tones. “First, I want you to know that I’m only back for a short time. I have responsibilities in other lands and most especially to the Jinn Brotherhood. They took me in and I’ve worked behind the scenes with them for a lot of years.”
“I don’t know much about the Jinn,” Ren said quietly, his eyes narrowed in thought, “but I have heard they are more than they seem. Nico already told us you’re more than just a traveling minstrel. He told us you were Spymaster of the Jinn.”
Drake was surprised. He could count on one hand the people who knew his true position among the Jinn Brotherhood. Nico, as King-Consort of the Jinn, was his only superior. In a way, Drake was now Spymaster to the King of the Jinn, if the Brotherhood used such titles. It was a high honor and a weighty responsibility. To be the master of all the Jinn spies was daunting, to say the least, for every traveling minstrel among the nomadic Jinn was a spy of one sort or another.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Nico told you, but you must realize how important it is that you keep my true position to yourselves.”
Declan scoffed, but with a good-natured smile Drake had rarely seen from his stern blood-father. “That goes without saying, son. None of us would ever compromise your safety or your mission.”
Drake let that thought settle in his mind for a moment. This wasn’t going as he’d expected, but perhaps it was better than he ever would have believed. His family seemed to not only accept the path he’d chosen, but to take some measure of pride in his elevated status. They actually seemed proud of him.
Slowly, Drake nodded. “Well, you’ll understand that because of my position, I can’t stay in Draconia for long. There are contacts I must make and keep outside these borders. Drake of the Five Lands has built up a certain reputation and a very large network that I must uphold.”
His mother sighed. “Your fathers expected no less, but now that you’ve come home for a visit, I hope you’ll return more often. I know Jenet wants you here as much as possible. As do I.”
Drake reached out to cover his mother’s small hand with his own. “I can visit, of course, but I can’t stay. There is much work to be done.”
“I get the idea you never would have returned if there wasn’t some grave plot afoot.” Declan spoke shrewdly, his sparkling blue eyes narrowed on Drake. “Can you tell us?”
Drake shrugged as he thought fast. Of all the knights, Ren and Declan were ranked among the highest. If there was a threat to the royal family, they would need to know.
“I can tell you this. There is a substantial threat to the younger princes, the twins in particular. I thought it real enough to return here after all this time to warn them myself.”
Jenet’s head loomed over the family dinner table. “We’ve already taken precautions,” she said in soft tones, including them all in her thoughts. “None of the royal family will be without escort until we determine the seriousness of the threat. We’ve devised a schedule. Nellin is with Wil right now. Jurak and Elinar are with the younger twins. They and their knights will sleep in the royal suites tonight and we’ll switch off in the morning. Roland and Nico refused guards, but we’re watching them anyway.” She chuckled in her dragonish way, a little wisp of cinnamon-scented smoke rising above the table.
“You’ve been busy, sweetheart. Good work.” The approval in Declan’s voice made Drake start. Dec had indeed mellowed in the past fifteen years. He’d never spoken so gently in his life. Or perhaps Drake had just never recognized the deep caring in Declan’s otherwise harsh voice.
“Is there anything we can do?” Ren leaned forward, seeking Drake’s counsel in a way that surprised him. Roles had certainly reversed in the past fifteen years. His fathers were both looking at him the way his Jinn brethren often did—with respect and a willingness to listen and follow direction. It was a jarring, heady feeling.
“Having dragons keep an eye on them is a good first step, but the information I have indicates the threat is greatest here, in the capital city and the castle. I recommended to Roland that his younger brothers either be confined here in the castle with multiple guards or dispersed to the outlying Lairs where the number of people going in and out can be controlled.”
“What is the nature of the threat, exactly?” Declan asked from the head of the table, all business now.
“Abduction.” Drake’s simple statement caused a stark reaction from everyone but Jenet. She’d heard his full report to the king and knew already what was at stake. “What my operatives have heard indicates King Lucan of Skithdron wants to capture one of the royal princes. They say it has something to do with his own transformation, and I fear he wants a half-dragon subject to experiment on. Nico and Riki saw firsthand what Lucan has done to himself.”
“What’s he done?” Drake’s mother wanted to know, a fearful curiosity on her delicate features as she looked from one man to the other seated around her table. “What haven’t you told me?”
Ren’s eyes were grim, but he nodded at Drake to do the honors.
“King Lucan cut a deal with the northern warlord, Salomar. Lucan would ship diamond blades from his mines northward in return for two things. First, he wanted access to the North Witch, Loralie. He asked her to merge himbodilywith the skiths that inhabit his land.”
Elena gasped, shock and horror on her lovely face. Skiths were giant, venomous, snake-like creatures that killed all in their path. The only thing they were afraid of was fire, but even a dragon could be felled by their acidic venom spray and vicious bladed teeth. They weren’t of very high intelligence and tended to be lone creatures, but just recently the king of Skithdron had found a way to mobilize and organize the skiths of his land into a sort of army.
“But that’s crazy!” Elena’s whispered words reached Drake’s ear, and he squeezed her small hand in reassurance.
“Lucan is insane. He’s half skith now. It’s the reason he chained Riki at his side. He made her heal the constant injury to his body caused by the skith venom and blood, as the process of change continued. Without her healing power, he would have died at the very beginning of the transformation. We all assumed after she escaped he’d die a very slow and painful death, but he’s still alive. My scouts confirmed it only a day or two ago.” Drake ran one hand through his hair in frustration. “Either he’s found a new healer somewhere—poor soul—or he’s beyond the point in the change where he needs constant healing.”
Declan sat back and all eyes turned to him. “What was the second thing Lucan bartered with Salomar for?”
Trust his blood-father to remember the details. Drake would have smiled had the situation not been so grim. “Safe passage to the far north for search parties. Salomar didn’t know what Lucan was looking for, other than some magical artifact, but some of my sources claim it is something from wizard times.” Lilla reared up, as did the other dragons lying in the warm pit of sand some feet distant, but they said not a word, just listened intently while Drake continued. “One of my informants heard a name, but I don’t trust the man completely and I only have his word on it.”
“What was the name?” Arlis’s great golden head loomed near, over his knight’s shoulder. There was urgency in his tone.
Drake surveyed the dragons, realizing there was something more here than met the eye, but he’d have to wait for a better time to ferret out just what the dragons knew. For now, he had bigger fish to fry and two princes to keep safe.
“The man spoke of something called the Citadel. He said that’s what Lucan’s men were looking for in the far north, but he didn’t know whether or not they’d actually found anything.”
The dragons bristled but remained silent.
“Does this mean something to you, Arlis?” Declan asked of his dragon partner, suspicion in his gaze if Drake was reading his blood-father’s expression correctly.
“It could,” Arlis hedged, surprising Drake, “but we must seek the Dragon Council. I will call them together tomorrow at first light. We must confer on this development before deciding how to proceed.”
Drake knew both Arlis and his mate were senior members of the Dragon Council. Only dragons met on the Council—their knights were not allowed within the vast chamber. The only humans allowed within were those of royal blood, who were also half-dragon. He’d often wondered what went on behind those closed doors, but that was one of the few areas into which even the Spymaster of the Jinn Brotherhood was not privy.
“Leaving that aside for now—” Declan sent his dragon partner a hard look, “—I’m impressed that you felt this threat strong enough to come here in person, Drake. It speaks both of your character and the seriousness of our current situation.” Drake was shocked by Declan’s words, but the older knight moved on without pause. “We’ll need to augment the dragons’ plans. Jenet, after dinner I want you to give us the details of the schedule you and the younger dragons have worked out. But for now, let’s continue our meal.” Declan lifted his glass and waited for those around him to do the same. “To our son, returned to us at last.”
The toast was echoed by the rest of the family, and Drake found himself drinking with a sense of unreality that puzzled him. How had Declan taken control of the situation yet again? And why wasn’t Drake bristling as he always had when his blood-father took charge to bring them back to the matter at hand?
No, instead of anger, Drake felt something like relief that Declan had so easily steered the conversation away from such weighty matters. It was hard enough just being with his family after so many years. Discussing the dire threat to the Draconian royal family and the machinations of kings was better left to another day.
Drake watched as his family drank to his return, a sense of completeness enveloping him. He’d come full circle now. His blood-father was no longer the ogre he remembered, and Drake had to ask himself if Declan really ever was quite as bad as Drake recalled.
Drake raised his glass when the others had finished sipping and gathered their attention. It was a heady feeling. They’d never paid such attention to him as a youngster, but he’d grown up and learned many things in his travels. How to play to a crowd was second nature to an accomplished Jinn troubadour such as himself.
“And to you all. The Mother of All knows you deserve special commendations for putting up with me as a teen.” He shook his head ruefully. “I never expected to be welcomed back this way and I’m both humbled and grateful.”
Drake drank deeply of the sweet wine, shocked to see tears gathered in not only his mother’s eyes, but Ren’s as well. Even Declan had a suspicious sparkle in his blue eyes, but Drake pretended not to notice the emotional response his words had conjured.
The rest of the meal passed with considerably less tension, and Drake found himself enjoying the quiet meal with his family a lot more than he’d expected. So much had changed while he’d been away, yet much had stayed the same.
Drake bounded out of bed the next morning, feeling better than he had for a very long time. It was barely dawn when he ambled down the High Road in Castleton toward a quaint inn owned by the Pritchards. He remembered it from when he was a boy. They were famous for their confections, and he was looking forward to learning if they still made the best sweet breakfast buns he’d ever tasted.
He entered the common room and spotted Krysta. She wore her gray Guard uniform, but her hair sparkled in the rising sun and her creamy complexion beckoned him to lick her skin, just to see if she tasted as good as she looked.
But that would come later.
For now, breakfast was the order of the day. Charming this special woman, the task at hand.
“Good morning, Krysta.” His voice was his sharpest weapon, honed over years on the bardic road. He knew he could make a woman shiver with just the right inflection, and it seemed Krysta was not immune. He saw her shoulders shimmy as his voice rolled over her and smiled in satisfaction.
“I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
“When I make a promise, I keep it.” He sat at the small table, brushing his knees against hers.
“I’ll remember that.” She sipped at her steaming cup of tea, her gray eyes watching him through the mist.
The serving girl came over to them and Drake smiled at the youngster, placing his order. He learned that she was the youngest daughter of the house, and that her name was Mary Pritchard. By the time she left the table, she was grinning and promising to give his compliments to her father and mother.
“You certainly have a way with the ladies. Even the young ones.”
Drake winked. “I used to charm honey buns from Mrs. Pritchard when I was a boy. She makes the best pastries I have ever tasted anywhere in all the lands.”
“I know.” Krysta looked a wee bit guilty. “I have a sweet tooth myself.”
“Ah…” Drake sat back in his chair, watching her. “So that’s why you chose Pritchard’s.”
“I confess I have a weakness for Mrs. Pritchard’s baking. Much to my chagrin. Eating here the past few months, I’ve gained at least five pounds, so I try to limit it to once a week.”
Drake inspected her ultra-feminine form. “Well, I certainly can’t tell.” His gaze shifted to her lovely gray eyes. “I like a woman with curves.”
She laughed outright, charming him with her open response. “You are such a rogue.” She didn’t flirt like the other women he’d known. She meant every word, and not in a teasing way. Drake sat up, eager to disprove his reputation for some reason, though he’d never felt the need to defend himself before.
“I’ve been many places and seen many things. I’ve done a lot I would never relate to my mother” he paused to chuckle, “but I’ve never played a woman false. I’m not quite a rogue, though I admit, I’m probably very close.”
“Well at least you’re honest.” She leaned back, regarding him. “I like that about you.”
“Honest and true to my word.” His eyes lit with a playful twinkle as he nodded. “You’ve learned that much about me already. What will you do when you discover I’m loyal, faithful and steadfast, I wonder?”
“Pat you on the head and toss a stick for you to fetch?”
He burst out laughing. “I’m not a dog, but around you I definitely feel frisky as a puppy.” He pitched his voice low, to skate along her nerves. He knew he’d hit his mark when he saw her shiver.
He would have followed up on the small victory, but Mrs. Pritchard bustled over. Drake stood to receive her friendly hug as she marveled over how much he’d grown. The older woman had been one of his favorite people in Castleton, both for her excellent cooking and her understanding wisdom. Many times, he’d sought refuge here after one of his father’s rebuffs. Mrs. Pritchard fussed over him, nearly coming to tears when he leaned down to kiss the motherly lady on the cheek.
It touched him deeply that she remembered him. He’d thought at the time he was just one of many youngsters who clamored after the woman, eager for one of her sticky buns. He was pleased to learn she’d felt genuine affection for the troubled boy he’d been and seemed proud of the man he’d become.
They talked for a few moments before the business of the inn called her away. When he sat back down at the table, Krysta was eyeing him.
“She loves you.”
“I love her too. She’s a very special woman.” He tossed his napkin on his lap, trying to be nonchalant. Truth was, the woman’s greeting had thrown him more than he liked. His emotions were much closer to the surface than usual. “She has a soft heart and a kindness for strays. Hmm. Maybe I am a dog after all.” He chuckled, settling back in his chair as little Mary brought their breakfast on two metal plates.
They ate and chatted while Krysta fell a little more under Drake’s spell. She felt the impact of his cultured voice and knew he was fully aware of how it affected people. Especially females.
Her insides jumped as she watched him lick the honey residue from the sticky buns off his elegant fingers. They were tapered and long, with little calluses from playing stringed instruments. The calluses were easy to see on the tips of his fingers as they moved, both nimble and dexterous. She wondered what such talented fingers would feel like on her skin. Would he play her body as skillfully as he played his lute?
A rush of disquiet filled her. She’d made love with Mace. She shouldn’t be thinking of another man in a carnal way so soon after making a commitment to the young knight. It was disloyal, and it wasn’t like her at all. She didn’t indulge in casual sex. Sharing herself with Mace represented a very real step forward toward a relationship with him.
Krysta didn’t rush into intimacy. Not since her foolish youth. But Mace was a different story. After knowing him only a short time, she felt strongly enough about him to trust him with her body. That was a big step for her and one she didn’t take lightly. So why then was she feeling this unreasonable attraction for the roguish bard?
She knew full well Drake could have his pick of women and she’d be damned if she’d be just another notch on his belt. Still, Drake didn’t strike her as insincere, and he certainly wasn’t a cad. He was honest about his appreciation of women, regardless of their age. She’d seen him treat the young Pritchard girl with the same teasing respect he gave her mother, the same caring concern and desire to make them smile. He might be a rogue, but he was a kind one and that combination, Krysta discovered, was dangerous indeed.
“So what fills your days, Krysta? I know you’re a Guard, but are you always on patrol or have you some other duty?”
The question drew her back to the moment and reminded her of her job. Judging by the sun’s position, she had only a short time left before she must begin her work day.
“I train the new recruits in weaponless fighting. Many of us share that duty, but in fact—” she wiped her mouth as she finished her breakfast, “—today it’s my turn. I have a nice class of talented young men and women waiting for me.”
“Ah, Jinn freehand fighting? That’s a skill I learned many years ago, though I was too large for many of the more intricate movements—or so the armsmaster said.”
“You might be at that.” She looked him over with a considering eye. “I’d almost forgotten that Drake of the Five Lands was adopted of the Jinn. What clan are you?”
“Black Dragon.” He said it casually, though they both knew the Black Dragon Clan ruled all of the many Jinn clans. They were the ones responsible for calling most of the wandering Jinn clans together here in Draconia. “I was lucky enough to have gained their notice when I was still just a boy, away from home for the first time with no knowledge of the wider world. Without their guidance, who knows where I’d be today?”
“I imagine you always land on your feet, Drake.” She smiled at the thought of him as a youth.
He bowed his head in acknowledgement of her small praise. “It is a skill I’ve learned through much trial and painful error.”
“Speaking of learning—” she glanced out the window again, “—I must go see to my students.” She stood from the table and reached for the small purse at her belt, but Drake stayed her hand. His gentle touch jolted her, the warmth of his fingers causing little tingles on her skin.
“Allow me.” He produced a silver coin from his own pocket, tossing it onto the table. It was much more than the simple fare was worth, but she knew he was probably leaving the extra for young Mary Pritchard or trying to impress Krysta with his largess. Probably a little of both. Krysta smiled and thanked him as gracefully as she could manage.
Drake towered over her as they left the inn, reminding her of her femininity in a very basic way. Her limbs almost shook with the tingling heat of awareness. He was a tall man, but not brawny. No, he had the sleek muscles of the jungle cat, primed and ready to strike, though his loping stride was deceptively lazy.
“I’ll walk you to the garrison, if you don’t mind the company. I’m going that way and find I’m reluctant to see our time together end.”
Oh, he was charming.
“I don’t mind. But Drake…” her conscience rose to remind her of Mace, “…I have to tell you, I’m committed to Mace. I don’t want to lead you on or give you false hope.”
“Committed, huh?” He seemed to ponder her meaning. “Has he offered you marriage?”
“No.” She shifted uncomfortably as they walked. “But I’ve committed to learning where the mutual attraction leads. I’m not in the market for a husband—or two.”
“I’m glad you’re aware what mating with a knight entails.” She did, but only vaguely. Still, she wouldn’t get into that discussion with Drake. Mace would tell her all about it, if they ever got to that point. “I’ll be brutally honest with you, Krysta.” He stopped walking, tugging on her wrist to make her face him. “I don’t think I can stay away. You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever known before and I want whatever time you’ll give me.”
“I won’t stop seeing Mace.”
“I didn’t ask you to. But surely you can spare a few minutes to share a meal with me now and again? I won’t deny your right to choose the man you want, but I’ll do everything in my power to convince you that I’m the right man.”
He squeezed her hands, drawing her closer. She knew he was going to kiss her, and try as she might, she couldn’t work up enough outrage to push him away.
His lips were gentle at first, coaxing a response. Desire flooded her as his tongue swept inward, invading, conquering, but in the most delightful way. He pulled her into his arms and she felt at home there. Dangerously so.
They were on a public thoroughfare, but she was oblivious to the movement around them, the rest of the city just starting to stir from their homes and begin the day. Drake plundered her mouth, stirring her to passion even as his hands swept down to cup her backside. She longed to know what they’d feel like on her skin.
The thought roused her enough to push away. He let her go, drawing from her lips at the last possible moment. His blue gaze questioned, but she had no answers.
“I have to go, Drake.” She patted his broad, muscular chest with open palms, then pushed back. “Thank you for breakfast.”
She turned and ran off before he could say another word, the hounds of guilt and confusion snapping at her heels.
The garrison was built around a central courtyard that served as assembly area and training ground, among other uses. Drake arrived just as the new recruits were being put through their hand-to-hand training by none other than the talented Jinn warrioress, Krysta. He couldn’t stay away. After that hot kiss, he knew there was something between them, though she tried to deny it.
He marveled at her lithe grace as she demonstrated takedowns, avoidance techniques and strikes to the newer Guards. She drilled them with efficiency and taught with clear words and actions. He realized he was watching an expert at work as he lounged against a support column a floor above the courtyard, hidden by the shadows of the arching wall. The offices and a few of the living quarters were behind him, but the place was designed so that the inner wall was open to the courtyard—one long hall off which the outer rooms lay.
Curiosity had brought him here. That, and a desire to see Krysta that would not be denied. He had to make contact with some members of his network today, but first he couldn’t resist visiting the garrison. He knew the building well and was able to find an out-of-the-way place to spy the mysterious woman who haunted his thoughts.
He watched her move, envious of the young men she taught, for they had all of her attention and focus. She touched elbows and patted shoulders as she passed each practicing pair, offering words of correction and praise in equal measure. She was a gifted teacher.
“You want her, don’t you?” The deep male voice surprised him. A quick look to his side revealed his childhood friend Mace, now fully grown and much brawnier than Drake had expected. His old rival had changed since they were teens, but then, so had Drake.
Mace had somehow discovered Drake’s hiding place, though he kept to the shadows himself. Drake spared him a glance, not liking the way the knight’s eyes were trained on the lithe woman moving around below.
“Am I that obvious?”
“I intend to win her, so if you’re just playing around, I’d appreciate it if you’d back off. Even when we were boys, I never stood a chance with a girl if you were interested in her too.” Drake was floored by Mace’s words, but the knight continued right on, not giving Drake a chance to speak. “This girl matters a lot to me, Drake. More than any other woman I’ve ever known.”
Drake caught the note of dismay in Mace’s tone, as well as the wonder. Could it be he’d found his mate? Drake could hardly believe it, though he knew knights often recognized their true mates within moments of meeting them. Still, he refused to believe Krysta was meant for Mace. She was Drake’s, dammit. Couldn’t they see that?
The trouble was, Drake didn’t know what to do about all these new feelings storming around inside him. He didn’t want to settle down with just one woman. Did he?
He didn’t recognize the indecisiveness in himself. Drake of the Five Lands was known for his steadfast character and quick turn of phrase. Why then was he reduced to a babbling idiot on this topic?
“I don’t honestly know what it is about her, but I can’t say I will withdraw from the field. It’ll have to be up to her, Mace.”
The other man sighed heavily. “I was afraid of that.”
They watched her move in silence for some time, each lost in his own thoughts. Drake wasn’t surprised Mace had realized his childhood ambition of becoming a dragon knight. He’d always lived up to the ideals of the Knights Creed—without even trying. Drake thought Mace had probably been born with the knightly traits of honor, bravery, strength, fairness and mercy. His skill with weapons and strategy seemed to come naturally, but he never lorded it over the other boys in the Lair. No, Mace didn’t seem to have any vices at all—something Drake had both hated and admired about his former classmate.
Despite that, they’d been friends. They’d also been competitors in many ways, but always friendly about it. And now they seemed to be competing for the same woman.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” Drake marveled as Krysta completed a complex block-sweep sequence he’d never quite mastered himself.
“One of the best.”
“You can say that again.”
The men were left alone as she dismissed her class and disappeared into one of the rooms on the lower floor. Drake turned to study Mace. He hadn’t seen the man in fifteen years.
“It’s good to see you, Mace. My mother mentioned you’d been chosen. Congratulations.” He held out the hand of friendship, and Mace hesitated only slightly before returning the gesture.
When they were younger, theirs had been a constructive rivalry, with no real hard feelings on either side. Drake knew Mace couldn’t help the fact that Declan had often thrown Mace’s accomplishments in Drake’s face when he hadn’t lived up to expectations. That wasn’t Mace’s fault. He’d always been better, brighter, and more diligent than Drake. It was just the way he was built.
Mace persevered. His character was such that if he didn’t get something the first time, or even the second, he stuck with it, trying until he mastered it. Such thoroughness had led him to a high level of skill in a wide variety of endeavors that Drake didn’t have the patience or inclination to even try. Swordplay had been fun, so Drake excelled at that. Other weapons came to him easily as well, but the other things a knight was expected to know eluded him for the most part. Oh, he did well enough, but he didn’t excel. Not the way Mace did.
Of course, Drake had an active social life, even back then. Mace had spent most of his evenings studying. Not for Drake was the life of a scholar. He far preferred common rooms filled with interesting characters with tall tales from far off lands. Much of Drake’s real education had been earned on the road, talking to people and learning from the stories they told.
He’d turned his interest in people into songs and tales that paid his way from one inn or faire to the next until he’d joined up with the Jinn. They’d taken him in and nurtured his natural talents, taught him instruments and how to play in a group or solo. He’d loved every minute of it. Learning from the Jinn Brotherhood hadn’t felt like work. Finally, he’d found a way to excel.
It had taken fifteen long years though, to learn wisdom.
“Nellin is my dragon partner,” Mace said with pride as they shook hands in the warrior style.
“I remember him. A fine dragon for a fine knight.” Drake recalled the young dragonet, only a little older than Jenet. He’d been big for his age and promised to be a devil in the air, even back then.
“He’s a handful, but we get along.” Mace was being modest. They were highly ranked for such a young pair. Drake had heard about Mace’s achievements from his family. “Have you eaten? I was going to get some lunch if you want to join me.”
The invitation was polite, and Drake accepted with some alacrity. They were rivals once again, this time for a beautiful, willful woman, so Drake fell into the role with which he was familiar. He envied Mace almost as much as he respected him.
Lunch was pleasant enough, and it had the added benefit of stalling his return to the castle. Mace brought Drake up-to-date on the happenings among their age group over the past fifteen years. Mace was as solid and steady as Drake remembered, and he found he enjoyed catching up with Lair life more than he’d expected.
After a few companionable hours with the knight, Drake made his way back to the castle and his waiting family. Unlike their last meal together, this second dinner with his family was much less tense and even somewhat enjoyable.
Rather than the long, drawn-out affair of the night before, this dinner was blessedly brief because the men had to report for duty soon after. That left Drake alone with his mother and Jenet for the rest of the evening. He talked about his adventures with the Jinn and the foreign lands he’d visited. His mother wanted to know all about his travels and Drake had even brought a few things to give her.
Once he’d made the decision to head home, Drake had picked up gifts for the family. In the tumult of the previous day, he hadn’t had much chance to give his mother the silk scarves, rare spices, colorful fabric and other things he’d acquired for her. He had a few items for Ren and Declan as well—master-crafted blades and small leather workings he thought they’d like—but he’d wait for a more opportune time to give them his gifts. They were small things, really, but Drake knew his family would enjoy them.
For Jenet, he’d brought a buttery soft, golden leather pouch she could wear around her neck if and when she finally chose a knight of her own. It matched the color of her scales and had pretty designs wrought on it. More importantly, it was made to fit comfortably against her hide and not get in the way as she flew. Drake had designed it himself and commissioned it from one of the master craftsmen of the Jinn.
He’d also brought some very special salves and creams for Jenet’s scales. Dragons didn’t need all that much in the way of skincare, but the delicate areas where their wings met their body could benefit from lubrication every once in a while. It was a knight’s duty to see to the comfort of his dragon and though Jenet had no knight at the moment, Drake thought she would probably enjoy the gift.
“They all smell wonderful!” Jenet enthused as she slipped her head through the loop of the leather pouch Drake presented to her. She sniffed each jar, nosing through them with enjoyment sparkling in her eyes. “Will you rub the one in the blue jar on my left wing joint?”
Drake ducked as Jenet lifted her wing over his head. He stepped up, using the jar she’d sniffed out and the skills he’d learned as a youngster to soothe her irritated skin.
“You shouldn’t have let this go so far, Jen. Your scales are ragged here.”
“You could help me, like you did when we were little.”
He knew that loaded suggestion was her way of nudging him about her desire to make him her knight—against all logic. Not answering her, he concentrated on his work.
He stepped back when he finished with her left wing and moved to inspect the right. He rubbed the scented cream into the joint until he was satisfied she was in good shape. Or at least as good as he could make her feel with only one treatment.
“I’ll give you another rub-down tomorrow morning, Jen. The right side is all right, but the left needs a little more attention.” He wiped his fingers on a cloth, then slipped the blue jar back into the pouch she still had around her neck. “You want me to put this with your things, Jen?”
But Jenet pulled away before he could remove the bag filled with jars of creams and ointments he’d given her. “I want to keep it near for a while, Drake.” Her words seemed almost bashful as she backed away toward the sandy wallow where she slept. “It smells good. And it reminds me you’re really home.”
Drake worried at her words and her obvious attachment to him, but he didn’t argue. He’d seldom seen Jenet so tentative, even as a young dragonet. The time would come soon enough when he would have to leave her once again. Better to let it lie for now.