Burn (Dragon Souls) (30 page)

It was Sevastyan and his son who sheltered her from the rabble.

A forbidding Captain Vadik led the way as they escorted her from the muddy bank and the questioning crush of strangers.

She recuperated from the quest at the closed marquee Sevastyan thoughtfully set up to receive her.

It was plain compared to the other grandiose pavilion’s which displayed spires topped with pennants, elaborate warrens of lesser tents set up as antechambers, and additional quarters. The unadorned structure was warm, contained hot water for a rag bath and a soft sleeping area separated by a woven-grass screen.

It was blessedly private.

Stumbling over the threshold onto the
tatami
mats covering the swampy ground, she mumbled a relieved thank you.

She insisted the Dragon Lords and Vadik join her inside when it seemed they would leave her.

The Captain declined, preferring to bodily bar the entrance flap.

At his Sire’s firm nod, Victor politely accepted the invitation on their behalf, mostly because they doubted she could stand without fainting from exhaustion.

Sevastyan led her to the bedding.

Viktor attentively went about pouring lukewarm water into a shallow bowl, and lugging it, soap, and squares of cloth over to the bed.

Eyelids dropping, Marina felt her arms being lifted overhead then slapping her sides. She was stark naked before she realised what was happening. Squealing, she covered herself awkwardly with her arms, gawking incredulously.

Rolling his eyes, Sevastyan carried on scrubbing the cake of soap into her mucky hair.

Face scarlet, Viktor avoiding looking at her as he washed her sludge covered feet and lower legs. He paid rapt attention to ensuring her feet were cleansed and dried to keep her from falling sick then smeared ointment over the cuts.

She spluttered feebly as Sevastyan pushed her head to her knees to rinse her loose waves using a pitcher of cooler water.

Sitting her up he swiped a rag over face before she could speak then roughly dried her off with a towel.

Her skin prickled, clogged pores exulting in being somewhat clean.

“You can bathe properly when you are alone,” Sevastyan said brusquely. There was not the faintest hint of inappropriate lusting in his voice. He viewed her much like a taxing daughter who’d gotten herself dirty when playing. “At least now you will not be itching your scalp or scratching this lovely face as you rest.”

Making a clicking noise of displeasure, Viktor ripped something from her skin.

“Argh.” Short-tempered as a result of her fatigue, Marina readied to fussily slap him away. “Wha?” She blanched at the slimy creature trapped between Viktor’s blunted fingernails.

“A leech. Fat and happy.” He chucked the wriggling beasty into an empty bowl. “Sorry, I hurt you.” Sparing her a knowing grin, he gave her upper calf a friendly pat as he cleaned the irritated abrasion the bug left behind. “It would have fallen off when it was done feeding. I thought you might become distressed if you felt it when you were alone.”

She swallowed a whimper of discomfort. The image of reaching down and feeling that thing hooked into her skin as it greedily sucked her blood bothered her. She hadn’t felt the thing at all.

“Thank you,” she whispered. They understood by her timid manner she thanked them not just for removing the leech. “I was sort of lost back there.”

Gently cleaning streaks of brownish grime off her arms, Sevastyan hesitated. “I understand after the last quest House Zar saw to your care. It seems in the confusion of moving and changing guard someone, ah, overlooked arranging servants to tend you at the finish. This is something the House Head arranges.”

“Oh, hey now.” She patted his arm. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’ll get it right next time.”

He blinked. “Marina,
you
are Ryu House Head.”

She opened her mouth then closed it. Rubbed her nose. “But you.... How?”

“You took it when you joined our family. You hold the highest noble rank. You are royal.”

She groaned. “I didn’t know that. I didn’t realise everything Mikhail took care of for me.”

Genuinely upset and sorely missing Mikhail’s all-embracing presence, she sighed. Her embarrassment over being nude died. The Dragon Lord’s platonic manner made it clear they saw her as family to be fussed over.

“I wonder what else I’ve forgotten.” She gazed at her uncle hopelessly. “Is there other stuff I’m supposed to be doing for you that I’m not?”

Sevastyan regarded her steadily. A kind expression softened his strong features, because frankly, he found this young female astonishing.

It was not in the nature of the affluent to admit failings.

He felt her pride, but the casual acknowledgement of her mistakes revealed said pride was balanced by humility.

“If it is agreeable to you I shall oversee details concerning your aftercare during Aver. I will also manage the House until you are ready.”

Thankful tears misted Marina’s eyes. “I’d be honoured. As for being House Head, that’s your job. I can’t see myself doing better.” She was chagrined. “Especially since I have no idea what the position entails.”

Giving into the urge to show affection, he thumbed her chin. “Think nothing of it.” He stood and took the dirtied rags and water with him. “Come, Viktor. She needs rest.”

“I am done.” He stood and held out his hand.

A pearlescent scale diffracted the light and threw a spectrum of vivid colour onto her stunned face.

“Here. This was stuck to your ankle.” Calmer, his lisp was less pronounced. “At first glance I thought it was a scute, but it must have come from the lower underbelly of the water Dragon you defeated. You see how it is small and softer than hide scale?” He looked puzzled for a moment, but it passed, and he let the piece of
dragonflesh
drop onto her loosely cupped palm. “A memento to commemorate your victory.” He smiled bashfully. “Congratulations, Cousin. You are half way to becoming our Queen.” He bowed and quit the area.

Marina’s fingers curled around the scale. She forced her face into a stiff smile.

Her uncle considered nothing amiss. He noted her silence and stiff posture, but dismissed it as a result of the trial she’d overcome.

Proud of his offspring’s gallantry, he adjusted the screen to shield her from prying eyes, and ruffled Viktor’s hair as he passed.

Sevastyan turned to give her a warm smile. “Sleep. When you wake there will be food.”

A wave of drowsiness rushed over her shoulders and pressed down on her crown. Marina rolled onto her side and sort of flopped the covers over her body. The bed was warmed from her and Sevastyan’s combined body heat, and she shuddered in pleasure. Warm. Dry. Delicious aromas of food cooking had her mouth watering and her stomach rumbling. The murmur of conversation as Sevastyan and Viktor discussed the quest was soothing. Their low voices covered the noisy racket made by the citizens held at bay by Vadik and his Dragon Men.

Marina closed her eyes. Exhausted, and so naturally, sleep eluded her. Her closed hands tightened and pushed between her thighs.

Her mind reeled over what happened on the lagoon, and she began to feel slightly sick.

The scale Viktor found on her ankle was the same colour and shape as the ones she’d seen rippling over her hands when she’d frozen the water.

Did that mean more of her body had sprouted armoured flesh?

She knew from Koen that Dragon scales shed, a natural part of the hide’s cycle. This one had obviously shed during her dodgy transformation, and slime from the lagoon adhered it to her skin.

Viktor had no idea he’d held the scale of a creature that was
not
supposed to exist.

She faced the truth head on. No longer could she pretend it was getting better or easier to ignore. The voice in her head, the overpowering instincts, even the animalistic growling could be explained by the dragonlike characteristics all Chosen possessed, but the beautiful scale burning a hole in her fist was irrefutable proof that she might be ... that she could....

Scrunching tighter into a ball, Marina quieted her thoughts. She tumbled into a blissful abyss of calm under the healing spell of slumber.

It was dark when she woke.

It took a moment for her pounding heart and tense body to make sense. Her foggy mind caught up with her inherent danger alarms as the arguing outside the marquee grew in volume.

Marina listened tiredly to Koen Raad’s booming voice arguing with the Regent.

He defended his right to be at her side.

“
I will see her now
,” he raged only for Myron to stridently respond, “
Do not force my hand
.”

She knew the Regent loathed denying him. Keenly aware the eyes of the Drackai and Wyvrae Courts would be unshakably focused on them, his hands were tied. He had to act with the utmost propriety.

Koen agreed to leave, but extracted a promise from Daniil to report on her condition when he returned to the Citadel.

Marina groaned as she shoved into an upright position. She leaned back on her arms and bent her knees, feeling soreness within muscles she hadn’t known existed.

Her mind wandered, and she started remembering the scale.

Panicked, she searched in the bedding until she found the momentous piece of flesh stuck to her upper thigh with sweat.

She rubbed her thumb over the glittery surface and was calm enough to appreciate the isolated beauty of what she held.

“At least I’ll look pretty,” she whispered.

A repulsive image of her body stuck in a creepy half-human half-Dragon form sprang from the darkest recesses of her mind to contradict that statement. She shuddered. Surely she wasn’t some kind of mutated freak. If she could shift it would be all the way, and not into some deformed monster, wouldn’t it? Then again nature often fucked up badly. What if there was a problem with her on a genetic level? Would the nobles decide she wasn’t suitable to sit on their throne? Would the Dragon Council rule to have her culled so her mutation was eradicated from the gene pool?

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and goose pimples appeared on her arms from a gripping chill of dread.

She knew keeping the otherness a secret was dangerous. She wouldn’t be able to hide it forever. What if she sprouted scales during a feast? She’d already growled in front of Koen, Daniil and the Regent. Gotten territorial over Cathryn. Devoured fish whenever she had a chance. They’d shrugged her behaviour off, but she doubted they’d turn a blind eye to scales sliding across her skin.

She was confident Galina and Anastasia saw nothing. Even if they had glimpsed something strange – stranger than her freezing a wild one – she reasoned they’d keep their mouths shut. Drawing more attention to her at such a critical time would be brainless, and Houses Tyr and Vor were not stupid. Their advisors were canny, ruthless and the only reason she’d not been chewed up and spat out was because she’d had influential males in Houses Raad, Zar and Kol watching her back. After all, she might not be a freak. She might be more powerful, and they wouldn’t want to jeopardise losing the support of other Houses who felt Marina was definitely going to become Empress.

Exhaling, Marina rubbed her lips as a bubble of laughter gurgled in her throat.

Scary as the changes were the otherness was beginning to feel like a natural part of who she was.

Potential for disaster aside, it was all pretty exciting.

Marina wedged the scale in the thin decorative crevice that made up her jade pendant. She’d hide it somewhere safer once she got back to the Citadel. She gathered the blanket around her, intending to use it as a makeshift dress, but spotted a folded pile of clothing at the foot of the pallet.

She crawled over and inspected the garment.

It was an overlarge male tunic that was long enough to work as a dress.

As she got dressed, she mulled her situation.

All she had to do was keep it together. She could visit the fortress Annals and research into the previous High Princesses.

Maybe she wasn’t such an anomaly. Maybe her predecessors carried a secret they took to the grave.

She was done running.

It was the reason she’d been so vulnerable during the second quest.

The initial feat of magick had been infinitesimal compared to the succeeding. What would the third be like? She had to embrace the otherness. Maybe then it wouldn’t wrench control away from her as it had in the black lagoon.

The flap to the marquee was tugged aside.

A breeze churned into the cosy space and refreshed the stale air.

Heavy stomps, and the low-key clunk of armour told her a Wyvrae Dragon Lord approached, doubtless sent to see if she’d awakened.

Jakob stuck his silvered head around the screen. His brows lifted at her scanty dress and he nodded solemnly when he saw she was alert.

That Jakob had no problem gaining access to his Treasure was something the Dragon King could to roar about.

And man, did he roar, deafeningly, with smoke and brimstone.

Marina smelt it, and felt a burst of heated air swirl into the tent.

He bellowed until a thunderous beating of wings drowned out Daniil’s shouting for him to calm.

The world shook as whirling airstreams generated from his take off battered the tent and vigorously rustled the fabric sides.

Rested enough to find Koen’s temper amusing, Marina waved at the ceiling, giggling.

He’d regret the violent exit once he realised his outburst woke her up.

A jaw-cracking yawn cast off the last remnants of sleep. She ran her hands through her tangled hair then with a pitched noise of disgust, rubbed sleep crust from the corner of her eyelids. Marina sat with her legs bent under her bottom, her knees facing her guest who she directed to the stool Viktor left behind. “He’s been like that all day, huh? I’m surprised he didn’t blow sooner.”

“Lord Kol and Nikolai kept him calm, but....” Jakob shrugged. “He will not be sensible until he holds you. It is the nature of the beast.” He scooted around the screen and made sure she was properly covered before drawing closer. “You know him well.” Reaching her side, he hesitated to sit. He could see how exhausted she still was and a part of him feared for his life being in her presence like this when the Dragon King was so protective. “What do you want me to tell him?”