Dragon's Blood (The Dragon's Gift Trilogy #2)

Lucyan choked on his mouthful of whiskey. “The oracle?” he sputtered, once he could draw enough breath to speak. “But he is the dragon god’s mouthpiece. What reason would he have to support a cult that is the antithesis of whom he serves?”

“I don’t know, and these are only suspicions as of yet,” Shadley warned. “But rumor has it that behind closed doors, the oracle is telling people that he worries that perhaps Dareena used some kind of warlock trick to fool everyone into believing the dragon god had given her his blessing. He says that it would explain why such tragedy has befallen the royal family—Dragomir running off without formally abdicating or choosing an heir, you and Alistair not stepping aside for Drystan, and, of course, the Dragon’s Gift stringing along all three of you instead of choosing one.”

Lucyan gritted his teeth. “She’s not ‘stringing along’ any of us,” he said. “Ours is a mutually agreed upon relationship, and we have reason to believe the dragon god himself has blessed it.” Dareena had told Drystan about the prophecy she’d found before she and Alistair had left. Of course, soothsayers spouted gibberish all the time, but they also spoke true prophecies from time to time, and that one had been quite specific.

Shadley shrugged. “Be that as it may, all of this coupled with the recent military defeat is lending credence to the idea that Dareena may not be legitimate.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Lucyan slammed his glass on the table. “I won’t stand for this,” he said, shooting to his feet. “I’m going to visit the oracle immediately and demand he recant these vicious rumors.”

“Your Highness.” Shadley got to his feet and gently grabbed Lucyan by the elbow before he could storm off. “It’s the middle of the night. The oracle is hardly in any position to be receiving visitors.”

“Oh. Right.” Lucyan blinked, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. He’d imbibed far too much tonight. “Well, what do we know about the oracle, Shadley?” he asked, resuming his seat. “I confess I’ve never been much interested in religion and have not spoken to him much. I’ve only ever seen him the times Mother and Father dragged us to the temple for some ceremony or other, but I remember him being a nice enough man. Why would he turn on us after all these years?”

“It’s odd,” Shadley said, leaning back in his seat. The firelight reflected in his dark eyes as his gaze grew contemplative. “Before your mother’s death, the oracle spent most of his time at the temple and rarely came to Dragon’s Keep unless he was called. But after she passed, he and your father became quite close. I daresay he was a trusted confidante.”

“That is odd,” Lucyan said, tapping his forefinger against his chin. “The oracle is supposed to be above politics. Why the sudden change in behavior?”

Shadley shrugged. “I asked him about it once, and he merely said that the dragon god urged him to take a more active role in the goings-on of the kingdom,” he said. “I couldn’t very well argue with him since he is the only person who ever talks to the dragon god.”

“And why is that?” Lucyan demanded. “If we dragons are supposed to be descended directly from the gods, why does he talk to some human instead of us? Why don’t we have a direct line?”

Shadley blinked in surprise. “But you do,” he said. “Every dragon has the ability to commune directly with our god.”

Lucyan stared. “Why do I not know about this?”

“I’m surprised your father never told you. Luckily, I read about it myself a few years ago while doing research in the library. We can go down there right now, if you like, and see if I can unearth that passage.”

“Please, lead the way,” Lucyan said, hope stirring in his chest for the first time. The library held some fond memories, as he and his brothers had spent so much time down there with Dareena. It seemed only fitting that he’d find an answer to their problems between the dusty pages of an old tome, as Dareena had done for them before she’d been taken away.





11





The next morning, Lucyan rose bright and early and called for his horse to be saddled. By the time he’d returned from the library, Drystan had been fast asleep in bed, and he saw no reason to wake his brother. Neither of them had gotten much sleep recently, so Lucyan merely left him a note informing him of his whereabouts before riding off to give the oracle a surprise visit.

Targon Temple was a two-and-a-half-hour ride from Dragon’s Keep, and Lucyan used the time to think. Shadley had indeed come through with the secret ritual for how to commune with the dragon god, and he wondered if the oracle used the same method, or if the dragon god spoke to him through different means. Had his father ever spoken to the god? If he had, Lucyan couldn’t imagine it had been recently. Why had the dragon god allowed their father to descend into madness? If they truly were his descendants, should he not have done something to intervene?

What if the oracle is right? an unbidden voice whispered in his head. What if Dareena really isn’t the Dragon’s Gift, and all their suffering is the dragon god’s way of punishing us for choosing wrong?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered to himself. Of course Dareena was the Dragon’s Gift. How else was it she could strengthen them every time they made love? He’d seen Drystan shift just before he’d lost consciousness during that fateful battle and had felt the hot flashes and intermittent weakness himself. Dareena had changed them, and was bringing them closer together with every kiss and caress.

Gods, how he missed her. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the feel of her lips on his flesh, the way her luscious curves molded perfectly into his hands as he ran them down her bare body. His cock began to harden at the mere thought of her standing before him, those perfect breasts jutting proudly from her chest, her thighs parted just wide enough for him to catch that flash of pink petals beneath her thatch of dark curls.

Wrong time, wrong place, he scolded himself, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle. He forced himself to think about the oracle’s wrinkled face instead, and exactly what he would say to the old bastard when he saw him.

Eventually, the woods surrounding him grew quiet, a familiar, hushed reverence permeating the chilly air. Up ahead, the trees gave way to a wide clearing, and Lucyan could clearly see Targon Temple, the most sacred place in all of Dragonfell. Despite the feelings of anger and bitterness the oracle had inspired in him, a sense of peace and contentment swept over Lucyan as he drew closer.

The oracle himself might not have the purest intentions, but there was no doubt in Lucyan’s mind that this was a holy place.