Burn by Penelope Fletcher
“Sacrifices must be made.” Daniil pinched his nose bridge. “It is not a favourable course of action, I agree, but I see no other to expedite answers to our growing concerns.”
“Harassing servants is not acceptable.” Myron turned to face Koen Raad. “I will not allow this.”
Daniil cocked his head. “Why are we assuming Khan had nothing to do with it? Often the most obvious answer is the right one.”
“He is beyond suspicion.” Eyes barrowing, Myron’s pacing increased in speed and length. Angry spots of colour appeared on his cheekbones. “I dare you speak against him again.”
Brows lifting, Daniil flashed both palms, shrugged in a gesture of retreat.
Koen was torn between allowing the Mage the freedom to live out his life in peace and without suspicion – something he earned at a high price – and ensuring any plot against Marina was brought to light.
Whilst day-to-day administration of the Fire Kingdom fell to Regent Myron while a female transitioned from First Chosen to Queen, threats of war fell directly on Koen’s shoulders regardless of monarch.
Anything concerning the military might of the Dragon Lands was his remit.
Only in times of war did his power supersede the Dragon Council, the will of both Queens, so even now as he investigated his hands were tied.
He simply could not cross into the Wastelands and demand answers from the Eldernmoot. Such a move required approval from the Dragon Council. They would never agree to such a risk during Aver, not when there was a chance Koen would finally ascend to the highest sovereignty in the land, uniting the people as one.
“We could ask Khan if he would be willing to help with our investigation.” Koen sat straight in his chair, resting his hands on his knees. He disliked feeling unsure. “No one will force him, Myron.”
“It does not matter. Gossip will slander him from a humble Court physician to the bloodthirsty leader of an uprising. The result is the same if we implicate him in this matter at all.”
“Reports of this will spread,” Daniil pointed out practically. “We must involve Dragon Lords at some point, and they will speak to their trusted advisors, and wives, who will talk to others. It is inevitable. We cannot change who Khan is, an exiled Mage. No matter he was banished by his people as penance for foiling a plot to overthrow peace by coming to you, Regent. His noble deed will be forgotten and his presence here regarded with fear when it is known the Dragon King and his favoured Chosen were the victims of an unprovoked attack by the Barren Ones.”
“I will not let the threat of slander mar Khan’s faith in his safety with us.”
Koen huffed a breath. He understood both points of view, but neither gave him what he needed, a diplomatic yet progressive solution. “What do you suggest as a substitute plan, Myron? Sending a party of men across the border to discover answers?” He of course would lead the team after the Regent was granted permission from the Dragon Council.
They didn’t have to know their successor lead the party until he was long gone.
Pausing his agitated stomping, Myron clasped the edge of his robe as he spun. “But if those who attacked you were mercenaries acting alone and the Eldernmoot find Dragon Lords infiltrating their province we end up breaking the treaty. We instigate war.”
“Then give me a solution as Daniil has done. You cannot oppose a logical course of action and give me nothing in exchange.”
Myron made a gesture of frustration. “There is no risk free solution in circumstances this volatile.”
“Then I speak with Khan.”
“I demand we consult the High Princess.”
The unexpected petition had Koen’s brow lowering.
Involving his Treasure in this situation was unacceptable. Should anything bad transpire because of any action they took he would not have her blaming herself.
Moreover, she was occupied with other troubles.
Dealing with the Mages without embroiling her further was the sole reason he’d been content to steer her to conclude the nasty business with Council Mon Mikhail, and see to their offspring.
Koen opened his mouth to flatly refuse then grimaced.
Protest died on his tongue as a familiar intoxicating scent drifted into the room. He remembered that scent wrapped around him with Marina’s soft limbs.
Immediately, he was hard, ready for her.
Wincing as his cock swelled to painful hardness, he shifted uncomfortably on the lushly padded seat and fought a tremendous urge to track the delicious aroma, so as to luxuriate in its source.
“Ask me what?” Marina poked her dark head around the ornately carved entrance. “Do you know three servants from different Houses were out here eavesdropping?” She strolled into the room munching on blush-ripe firefruit. Hips swaying, her black leggings were indecently tight and moulded to every sweeping curve. Her tunic ties hung loose, the crossed strings stretched across her breasts. “I shooed them off, but they’ll be back.” She licked fruit juice off her lips then sucked on a dripping finger, cheeks hollowing. She released the glistening appendage with a wet pop.
Sweating, Koen eased himself to the edge of his throne, shifting balance. He bent his knees. A sigh originated from the base of his throat and eased past his lips at the relief from the throbbing pressure at his groin. She wasn’t even trying to invite him, and look at the state he was in. He’d denied himself the exquisite surrender to be found within her flesh for too long – too long!
“Don’t we post guards to prevent that sort of thing?” she asked.
“We didn’t want the guards hearing something they should not,” Daniil answered.
Marina bowed at Myron. The fringe of her hair fell into her eyes and she dislodged it with a toss of the head. Eyes sparkling mischief, she ascended the stone steps holding Koen’s lambent gaze.
Slipping between his bent thighs, smiling when his white-knuckled hands gripped the arms of his throne, she gracefully lowered and spun giving him her back.
Seated between his legs she kept her hands to herself – waiting for him to touch her. “How spot on is my timing, huh?”
Utterly distracted from the conversation, Koen fingered the silky whorls of hair at the nape of her neck. “Hm.”
Daniil’s response was darker. He narrowed his eyes at Myron. “Some would say it is opportune.”
Gold eyes gleaming, Myron smiled showing teeth. “Fortuitous indeed.”
Marina was either disinterested, or oblivious of the emotional undercurrents. “What am I being asked?”
“We discussed last night’s attack,” Myron said Myron quickly. “Debated over a course of action I do not consider wise.”
“Oh.” Marina nibbled on the last of the firefruit. “I wanted to be involved in this. I don’t have much background on the Mages though. I’ll give my opinion for what’s it worth.”
“I have the highest faith in you. You will provide fresh insight into our moral dilemma.” Myron brushed invisible lint of his arm, slanting the empathetic Princess a considering look out the corner of his eye. “Do you remember Khan?”
“Of course.” She unconsciously touched her cheek, obviously recalling the man’s distinctive brands. “He was the Mage who healed me after the quest. He was lovely – such startling grey eyes. He was so polite, and interesting. I’d love to learn about his healing art and his home in the Wastelands. Do you think he’d talk to me?”
The earnestness in the voice of a female who could command all but a few in the entire land to her bidding was shocking.
Koen debated if she was being coy or humble. He decided the latter. Her unassuming nature was one of the traits that made her so lovable.
Her fascination with the Mage was evident.
After seeing Battle Mages in action he knew her curiosity would grow rampant unless appeased.
He slid the wily Regent a dry look. His approach was inspired. Marina was an advocate of the needy waif. Myron painted Khan as a friend to be protected. All he needed now was to hint Dani
Koen may have uncovered Myron’s end game, but he would not intervene. He was curious. Marina needed to learn to navigate political conversations for the battlegrounds they often were.
What safer time to practice then with his mentor and battle-brother?
“It had been suggested we interrogate him.” Eyes sad, Myron’s whole body wilted. “It will bring him under much suspicion. The servants can be cruel to each other.”
“That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. Drag him in here on the heels of an attack by people of his ethnicity and you may as well stick a target on his back.” Marina scowled, shooting an angry look up at Koen then across at Daniil, who rolled his eyes, and stuffed roasted meat into his mouth. “Are you racial profiling? You are aren’t you? I won’t stand for it.”
Avoiding the accusing female glare, Daniil’s was exasperated and directed at the Regent.
Koen wasn’t sure if it was because he was truly upset Myron manipulated her so, or because he missed his chance to sway her first.
“I never suggested torture,” Daniil said gratingly. “Stop exaggerating to get your way.”
Myron cinched victory. Jowls quivering, he recoiled, hand rising to hover at his throat. “Torture?”
Marina growled.
All three males twitched, and reined their Dragons’ instinctive response to the challenging reverberation.
Shaking off a retaliatory snarl, Daniil stared. The whites of his were eyes bright and bewildered. “Did you just growl?”
Dabbing at his upper lip, winded, Myron chuckled. The hoarse laughter was a tad nervous. He’d not experienced such an abrupt surfacing of his Dragon in some years.
Stiffening, more at ease with his Dragon’s feral response, Koen’s calculating eyes shimmered power as they narrowed. The jewelled hue of his irises intensified, and his oval pupils burned as the animal within fought for control. He felt the sound rumble through her, felt her dominance challenging them. He pressed his fingertips into Marina’s hot, damp skin.
The muscles pulled tight under the dominant touch. Her shoulders snapped straight, resistant, and the swells of her breasts inflated as her chest heaved.
Electric static charged the air with a familiar pressure.
The absurd notion she was about to shift flittered through Koen’s mind, darkly whispered by his Dragon. The beast snarled its desire to roam free, and thickened the atmosphere with its potent magicks.
His hand clamped down on her nape.
Exhaling in a rush, Marina rubbed her temples. Trembled. Her back hunched, and she visibly shrank. And then he smelt the sweet, tangy scent of her arousal.
At the submission his Dragon withdrew, purring.
Koen released the breath he held. The hot tendrils of it coiled around his lips, revealing how close he’d come to breathing flame. Kneading the knots from the tense, moon-glow flesh that formed under his hands, he blinked in amazement.
Chosen were known to be aggressive, but this was astonishing.
Magicks had seeped into the air and underscored her anger. She’d growled from the latent creature within, from her Dragon soul.
Pride welled within his heart.
Such manifestation of her strength shouldn’t alarm him. It should amaze him. His Treasure was extraordinary in more then her beauty and compassion.
She was fierce.
“Khan will be left alone.” Fidgety, Marina focused her indignation on Daniil. “You can’t go around torturing innocent people. Koen.” Her voice was all grievance. “Say something.”
He rubbed her back soothingly and cocked a brow at his mentor. “You insinuate much, Myron. Go easy. My Treasure is new to the subtler nuances of Court theatrics. You will have her summoning a battalion of Dragon Men to guard Khan by nightfall.”
“As if that lordling,” Myron flicked a dismissive hand at Daniil, “would not use every calculating technique in his arsenal to sway her to his way of thinking.” Myron sniffed, but then smiled at Marina. Crinkles appeared at the corners of his ancient eyes. “I may have played on your sympathies, but understand, Khan is a good man. Undeserving of the dishonour of being called to serve in this manner.”
Brushing his knuckles across her jaw, Koen watched Marina study the older male. She was cautious with Myron. Their relationship was resigned to a carefully cultivated respect because of Aver.
Koen didn’t believe she’d allow her own misgivings cloud her judgment on matters of state.
It would be satisfying to be proven accurate in such an apt situation.
“Treasure, the attack must be revealed for what it was. Either mercenaries stirring trouble, or a genuine act of war by our known enemy.”
“The Mages aren’t our enemy,” she insisted. “We have a treaty making them allies. We should give them the benefit of the doubt. Allow what happened last night to slide.”
“It is not that simple. They are known as treacherous. We cannot turn a blind eye only to be devastated by another attack we could have prevented by taking action.”
“Then you’re breaking the treaty by intent. You can’t sign a declaration of peace whilst secretly believing it will never hold.”
Koen snorted. “Did they not attack the Dragon King and his Treasure?”
“They didn’t want to. I know you felt that.”
Scooting until her back pressed against the seat of his throne.
Her hand wrapped around his knee.
It was a controlling touch, much like when she supped the side of his throat.
He loved it.
“And if it wasn’t an issue of state at all?” she asked in a odd tone.
Daniil paused in selecting another piece of meat, rejoining the conversation. “Marina?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The connection between Boy’s growing powers and the Mages attack was too glaring to ignore. Marina hadn’t wanted to say anything. She might not have made the link had Boy not been foremost in her thoughts all morning.
She still hadn’t found him, or found anyone who’d seen him.
Myron appeared taken aback when she finished speaking. “You cannot believe the youngling had anything to do with the assault?”
“No.” Marina firmly shook her head. “I don’t think he’s doing anything wrong, but I’m not oblivious to the fact he’s going through something I’m struggling to understand. He’s only just coming to trust me fully, and it’s been a stressful time for everybody, so I’m not upset he hasn’t said anything. That’s for us to work out between ourselves. But....”
Koen curved his body over hers, wrapped his arms around her. He felt her fear as his own. “Treasure?”
“What if they sense it?” Her voice was small. “The Mages. What if they sense power born of their people growing here? They might think we took somebody.”
Troubled, Myron stroked his snowy beard. “Why would you think this?”
“The leader said, ‘It is not us who broke the treaty,’ when I warned them of the outcome of their actions.” Daniil shifted uneasily. “I assumed he sought to mislead us.”
“Maybe that’s why they were looking for me specifically.” Marina’s voice grew confident. “I sense Boy’s magicks easily. It must be effortless for them even over a greater distance. Like recognises like.”
“But why did they come for you and not him?” Daniil pondered aloud.
“It’s not a secret I adopted a child with an accent. Besides, imagine how we’d react if they stormed the Citadel and tried to take a child claimed as my son by force?”
Koen exhaled sharply.
“A blood bath,” Myron muttered. “To take one of ours by force is to invite death.”
Marina relaxed a fraction. At least they were in agreement there – touch Boy and blood would be shed. “That would explain why they were desperate to talk to me alone. Maybe they want
Daniil nodded slowly. “It fits. They would be able to correlate a missing youngling with Boy’s age. They would have discovered the rumours of the adoption easily. It is spoken of throughout the Dragon Lands.” Daniil looked at the middle distance deep in thought. “It is likely they investigated this for some time before they approaching you in the open. The Eldernmoot may have convened as we are now, wondering why a magick-gifted youngling was kidnapped from their desert and why. A lack of answers would have compelled them to act.” A look of certainty hardened his expression. “Those Battle Mages were sent to question you with their full support. It is what I would do in their place if being cautious. It just so happens the Dragon King was with you when they approached turning this into a political nightmare.”
They fell silent.
“Boy will be protected.” Marina focused on Daniil. Instinct pressed her to remind him particularly Boy was untouchable. “We stole no child, only gave a lost one a home. We’ll tell the Mages this. Let’s contact this Eldern Moot and request a talk.”
“Such a thing was avoided in the past.” Koen nuzzled her neck. “The treaty breaks then there is war.”
“I’m far too busy with Aver to help you fight a war.” Her voice dripped with exasperated amusement. “Instead of retaliating aggressively, we’re going to toss olive branches over the territorial line in the sand.”
“We are to poison them?” Koen sounded disgusted by the subterfuge. “Using these olives?”
“No, fool.” Daniil mimed clapping him upside the head. “We are to hit them with the branches.”
“Oh, no, no.” Marina cringed. “It’s a human gesture of nonviolence. I assumed it would mean the same across dimensions.”
“Oh.” Koen paused. Shared a baffled look with Daniil. “I see. We may not have these olive branches, but we can throw fire weeds at them if it pleases you.”
“They sting badly,” proffered Daniil, blue eyes solemn. A hint of naughty lurked behind the ignorant facade. “That is as nonviolent as we may get.”
Myron’s lips twitched.
They understood what she meant. The other two were being difficult, savage natures tantalized by the threat of war even as they sought to prevent it.