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

Lucyan dismounted his horse a few paces away from the dragon fountain, then handed the reins off to an attendant before bending over to wash his hands and mouth before entering the building. The temple loomed a few yards away, a massive, two-story structure built from wooden beams painted vermillion, their sacred color. Golden runes shimmered along the edges of the roof, the pillars, and the entrance—protective symbols that would repel anyone who approached with ill will.

Lucyan drew in a deep breath and expelled what little anger lingered in his heart. He didn’t actually mean the temple ill will, but he wasn’t sure the runes distinguished the difference. Steadier now, he climbed the steps, then handed his shoes to another attendant.

“Do you know where I can find the oracle at this time of day?” Lucyan asked the attendant. He’d timed his visit to ensure he missed the morning prayers, having no intention to kneel on the floor for an hour and a half and chant rhythmically with the priests and acolytes. That time was much better spent getting what shut-eye he could.

The attendant smiled. “He is in his office upstairs.”

Lucyan thanked the woman, then gave her a coin as a donation and stepped over the threshold. Woven rugs cushioned his bare feet, sparing him from the worst of the frigid cold that had seeped into the floorboards overnight. Ahead, on the other side of the wide, open space, was a shrine with a statue of the Fiorlax, the dragon god, and various offerings gathered around him. Lucyan bypassed the shrine, and those praying in front of it, in favor of the staircase that hugged the left side of the building. He lightly traversed the rickety steps, then turned down a hall lined with several rooms.

Lucyan had met the oracle enough times to know him by scent, so he easily picked out his office. “Enter,” the oracle commanded when he knocked, and Lucyan raised his eyebrows. He sounded far too imperious for a man of the cloth, though perhaps he had a right to be, as the “only” man who could speak to the gods.

“My prince!” The oracle’s eyes widened as Lucyan pushed the door open, and he got to his feet. He’d been sitting behind his desk, which, while neat, was covered in stacks of paper. The office itself was spacious and nicely appointed, with a large glass window overlooking the gardens on one side and a fireplace and chairs on the other. Bookshelves lined the wall behind his desk, and over the mantle was a gorgeous depiction of the dragon god soaring over Terragaard, his scales shining gold as he spewed flame into the night.

“This is a most unexpected surprise,” he said, smiling broadly as he approached Lucyan. Lucyan noted the smile did not reach his eyes, and he detected the change in his scent—the man was nervous, and not at all pleased to see him. But he shook the oracle’s hand anyway and accepted his invitation to sit down. “Have you and your brother come seeking guidance?”

“Just me, I’m afraid,” Lucyan said as the oracle poured tea for them both. Lucyan surreptitiously sniffed at it to make sure the man hadn’t slipped anything untoward in his cup, but it simply smelled like berries and hibiscus, so he took a sip.

“Understandable,” the oracle said after taking a drink himself. “I’m sure that neither of you can afford to leave for very long now that the king has left the responsibility of the entire kingdom on your shoulders.”

“Indeed,” Lucyan said, with more than a hint of bitterness in his tone. “We have many problems to deal with, and I was hoping you might be able to assist me with one of them.”

“Of course,” the oracle said eagerly. “Anything I can do, you need only ask.”

“What I’d like you to do right now,” Lucyan drawled, leaning back in his seat, “is tell me why you’ve been spreading nasty rumors about our mate.”

“O-our mate?” the oracle repeated, his eyes widening in confusion. The fear in his scent grew sharper, and Lucyan bit back a wolfish smile.

“By ‘our’ I am referring to me and my brothers,” he said. “Surely you know about the prophecy, the one that states the three of us can break Shalia’s Curse if we join with the Dragon’s Gift all together?”

The oracle’s cheeks colored. “I told Lady Dareena to disregard that nonsense,” he said stiffly. “That prophecy was told by a soothsayer with a well-known propensity for madness.”

“Aren’t all soothsayers known for flirting with madness?” Lucyan asked pointedly. “I hear it’s a requirement for regular communal with the gods.”

The oracle’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“And I don’t like that you’re trying to change the subject,” Lucyan said. “Do you take me for a fool? My spies have informed me that you are telling others that Dareena is not the true Dragon’s Gift, and that she cheated the ritual. Why are you taking such great pains to malign her, especially when she is not here to defend herself?” His voice deepened into a growl.

The oracle held up his hands. “I said nothing of the sort!” he protested. Lucyan bared his teeth, letting out a plume of smoke, and the oracle’s bald head grew shiny with sweat. “My prince, why would I do such a thing? I myself was right there when Dareena was blessed by the god—I would be calling my integrity as the oracle into question by suggesting that I could be hoodwinked. Of course she is the Dragon’s Gift.”

Lucyan frowned. The man had a point, and yet… “I see no reason why my spies would lie.”

The oracle shrugged. “Sometimes rumors are only that—rumors. There is no question that Dareena was chosen by the dragon god to bear his next descendants. However, this business about the three of you being her mates must come to an end,” he said firmly.

“Like hell it will,” Lucyan said. “We’ve already decided.”

“Well, un-decide it,” the oracle demanded. “Dareena was charged with the task of choosing one of you as a mate, and choose she must. In order to save the dragon dynasty, she must mate with the strongest of you, which means you and your brothers will need to fight to the death to win her hand.”

“And how the bloody hell do you know that?” Lucyan asked, horrified at the prospect. Fratricide? The very idea made him sick inside.

“The dragon god told me,” the oracle said, as if that were obvious. “He spoke into my ear just as I was drifting off to sleep last night.”

“Oh, so it’s that easy?” Lucyan’s voice was rife with sarcasm. “The dragon god sidles up to you in bed and whispers sweet prophecies in your ear?” He couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. Lucyan had half a mind to rip his throat out, if only to stop him from speaking more lies.

“Just what are you insinuating?” the oracle asked, outraged. “You may be a prince, but I won’t have you sitting here in my office, drinking my tea while you insult me!”