Wyvern's Prince (The Dragons of Incendium Book 2) Page 11

  Gemma was painting the walls of the grotto, following the lines that Arista had made. He recalled Arista performing the same ritual. Even as a son raised in a household brimming with sorcery, he’d been skeptical. There was no incantation. There was no sacrifice. There had been no talismans or tokens. How could this ritual accomplish anything?

  But he’d felt the effectiveness of it at the end. He’d almost seen the power swirl around the perimeter and then around Arista after she’d made her mark. He’d seen her straighten and had seen the gleam of purpose in her eyes when she turned to consider him.

  Oh, it had worked. Arista had been so intent upon her goal that she might have had only one purpose in her programming. She would have killed him without hesitation, if she’d perceived him as a threat to her quest.

  And that was when he’d realized why he couldn’t send her dreams.

  Arista didn’t have any.

  He’d wanted to run but knew she would guess why. Instead, he held his ground and kept his expression the same. He’d ensured that his breathing was at the same rate and tried to control his pulse.

  She’d sensed that, of course. She’d been designed to note every detail, as all cyborgs were.

  But she’d attributed his quickened pulse to the wrong cause.

  He didn’t want to think about Arista turning toward him, an invitation in her eyes.

  Or his rejection of her advances.

  Or his belated fear that he’d made a foolish choice.

  Instead, he watched Gemma, an entirely different reaction coursing through him this time. She was as powerful a warrior as Arista had been, but possessed of a feminine beauty that fascinated him. Her charm had caught his interest, but it was her persistence that intrigued him—against every expectation, Venero desired a warrior woman.

  This one.

  He was so busy admiring Gemma that it took him a long time to realize that she echoed the sweep of the symbols with the same fluid grace as Arista.

  His heart sank.

  She knew these symbols.

  She knew this ritual.

  She had trained on Cumae. It wasn’t just propaganda. That was why she’d fought so well when stealing the pegasus. That was why she knew how to ride and could vault into a saddle. That was why she’d examined the wedding chamber with such purpose.

  Did she have more than training in common with Arista?

  Venero didn’t want to consider that, but he had to face the possibility.

  No, he had to eliminate it.

  Gemma paused before the circular medallion that Arista had painted last. She traced the outline of the circle and the marks that embellished its circumference. What was in the paint? Wine? Blood? It stained the old marks red, renewing and strengthening them, and Venero felt that same power rising.

  She meant to go to battle, just as Arista had.

  That was when he noticed the hole where the middle of the medallion should have been and wondered at it, remembering how he’d come upon Arista smoothing a paste over that very mark. He’d thought that she had been painting the stone for the placement of the medallion, but maybe she’d been doing more than that. Had she hidden something in the wall of the cavern and marked the spot with the medallion?

  As he watched, Gemma pricked her finger and traced Arista’s mark with her own blood. Her movements were confident.

  She even knew Arista’s mark.

  Had he heard Arista’s voice?

  Either way, he knew that Gemma had married Urbanus for a very specific reason and it wasn’t because she was stupid. He took a little hop closer in his concern and inadvertently kicked a pebble.

  Gemma spun and crouched at the sound, prepared to defend herself. Her eyes glittered and he feared for a moment that she would shift shape to her dragon form.

  In the same instant he recalled she couldn’t do that anymore, she saw him and she eased her pose.

  Venero could only stare in wonder. His heart skipped at the full sight of her beauty. The light of the candle seemed to caress her skin, turning her to gold. Her hair was loose and long, like spun sunlight, and her eyes glowed. She was radiant, as if illuminated from within.

  He would have given anything in that moment to have been a man again, to have had Gemma’s features light at the sight of him.

  He certainly wouldn’t have declined anything she offered.

  No matter what the cost.

  And that should have been a more terrifying notion than it was.

  “You made it!” Gemma declared, and she bent down to peer at him, laughing with pleasure that made his heart clench.

  The pavofel pounced then, appearing out of the shadows. Venero cried out as it caught him between his paws, then gave him a shake.

  “Felice!” Gemma cried, picking the beast up by the scruff of its neck. She shook it hard and the pavofel released its grip. Venero fell to the hard ground, winced, then hopped to hide under the satchel. He saw the feet of the creature as it paced around the bag, and hunkered low.

  “You knew Arista,” he said, knowing he sounded cranky again.

  Gemma didn’t reply.

  Venero moved to peek out from beneath the bag, wanting to see her reaction. “You know her name. You know she made these marks. You know her mark.”

  Gemma cast him a glance before she nodded acknowledgment. “And you knew what a pavofel was.”

  He had slipped up. “Maybe I read more than the maid.”

  “Maybe you learned about them from Arista. They’re indigenous to Cumae, and their breeding is carefully managed there.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Venero admitted.

  “She was the one who brought you here.”

  Venero nodded, because it was more or less true. Actually, he had led Arista to this place, but he’d still been a man then. It had been part of their bargain.

  “Were you going to help her kill Venero or get the relic from the Queen’s Grotto?”

  “The relic.”

  “Why not the prince?”

  Venero hesitated. “I liked him.”

  “I heard he was popular,” Gemma noted.

  Venero quickly changed the subject. “Did I hear Arista’s voice again?”

  Gemma smiled. “What do you think?”

  “That there was something embedded in the rock there, where that hole is now, something she hid for someone else. That you found it or maybe were looking for it all along.”

  “I didn’t know about it before I found it.”

  “And you listened to a recording left by her.”

  Gemma nodded. “You’re right, but the memoria wasn’t left for just anyone.”

  “I don’t understand.” Arista had known Gemma would follow her? What was a memoria?

  “A memoria can only be opened by the owner or the owner’s Sword Sister.”

  Venero fought the urge to retreat. He didn’t like the sound of this. “Sword Sister?”

  Gemma crouched down, her eyes bright. “She taught me and then we trained together. We painted each other’s backs. We relied completely upon each other, and so we swore to be Sword Sisters.” Gemma’s expression was filled with resolve. Again, Venero had the sense that he faced a cyborg, programmed for only one purpose. A warrior who could not be swayed or stopped.

  A dragon and a cyborg? It couldn’t be. He’d have to send her a dream to be sure, but Venero was convinced that he found Gemma appealing because she was mortal.

  If a dragon shifter.

  Her gaze locked with his. “A Sword Sister finishes any matter her companion has left undone.”

  Venero couldn’t stop himself from retreating at that, but he tried to disguise his trepidation by hopping toward the pool of water. “I see. How interesting.”

  “Do you know why Urbanus had her killed?”

  “You know about that?”

  Gemma smiled with complete confidence in her source of information. “Why do you think I accepted his suit?”

  Venero was glad to have the truth out in the
open. She’d married Urbanus to avenge Arista, which put them in alliance against his twin. “You could have had another reason.”

  Gemma averted her gaze, hiding some detail from him. Venero considered his words with care, wishing even as he did so that he and Gemma could be completely honest with each other. She was as slow to trust as he was. It was a trait that he might have found amusing to have in common with her, if he hadn’t been thinking about how much easier it would be for her to kill him in his current form.

  He cleared his throat. “You might have loved him.”

  Gemma laughed. “A prince of Regalia and a sorcerer? I might as well marry a MindBender or a DreamCaster!”

  That told Venero all he needed to know about her view of him. It might be a good moment to remind her of his usefulness. “Arista stole something from the Grotto in the Citadel.”

  She bent down to hold his gaze, her own eyes glittering with determination. “And then?”

  “She escaped.”

  Gemma arched a brow. “But you didn’t.”

  “Someone had to defend her back.” Venero’s voice dropped low as he remembered being caught, being tormented, and being cursed. It had been the lowest point of his life, but at least Arista had escaped. That detail had given him strength. He knew the loss of the ShadowCaster had been a blow to his mother’s ambitions.

  Gemma shook her head. “I have a hard time believing that a toad was of much help to Arista.”

  “A toad has helped you,” Venero replied. “Did you have to welcome Urbanus on your wedding night?”

  “No.”

  “Did you know about the spelldust, and the pegasus, and that the antidote could be found in the Queen’s Grotto of the Citadel? Did you know about the tunnel through the mountains?”

  Gemma fell to her knees before him, and Venero had a hard time remembering what he’d meant to say. Her eyes shone, so clear a blue that he thought a man could drown in their depths. “You’re right,” she breathed and his anger faded…like magic. “I did need your help and I still do.” She smiled and he couldn’t take a full breath. “Thank you for helping Arista. Even though she was hunted in the end, I’m glad she got away. She might have fulfilled her quest after all.”

  “Her quest? Wasn’t she supposed to kill one of the princes?” Venero pretended not to have the details, although he knew very well what Arista had been hired to do.

  Gemma nodded. “Venero. The twin brother of Urbanus. The DreamCaster who disappeared. I wonder if she succeeded.” She winced. “She said she loved him and didn’t know what to do.”

  “Caught between duty and love?”

  “Apparently so. I was surprised.”

  Maybe she’d known that Arista was a cyborg. “Maybe she let him escape.”

  Gemma fixed him with a look. “I thought you were with her. Wouldn’t you have seen if she had?”

  Venero averted his gaze. “I tend to fall behind when people move quickly. I miss some bits.”

  “That’s understandable. I’m sorry I abandoned you on the path.” Gemma smiled with a warmth that made his heart flutter. “I’m sorry I insulted you, too.”

  “Well, I was wrong, and I’ve provoked you, too.” Venero stole a glance at her nude perfection, felt his blood heat, and knew he was wrong about a lot of things. ‘Demure’ had a decided lack of appeal in Gemma’s presence.

  He was starting to like ‘forthright’, ‘smart,’ and ‘determined.’

  He wondered if he could even come to like ‘dragon’. There was something about this dragon princess of Incendium that challenged all of his assumptions.

  And Venero liked it.

  Gemma’s eyes twinkled. “I was wrong, too.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I missed you,” she confessed, her voice husky.

  Venero opened his mouth to say something and, for the first time since he had become a toad, croaked instead.

  Gemma laughed lightly. She inhaled then and scanned the chamber, then turned to him again. He could see the dragon, and it troubled him, given that she was pledged to finish whatever her Sword Sister had left undone. Her eyes were glittering again and her gaze was locked on him.

  “Something the matter?”

  “The Seed,” Gemma whispered, almost to herself. “I smell the Seed again. How can that be?” What was she talking about? She bent toward him with purpose. “You were at the hut, in the satchel. You were in the bridal chamber. It’s you.”

  “Me?”

  “The Carrier of the Seed,” she breathed.

  Venero stared into her eyes and yearned for something he couldn’t have, that he might never have again. His throat worked. He knew this was a moment to ask for one thing from her, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make a sound.

  When Gemma leaned down and kissed him, he couldn’t believe his luck.

  His reaction to the touch of Gemma’s soft lips on his skin was pleasure, and desire…and then Venero felt a ripple pass through his body that grew to a quake. It was followed by the first twinge of a pain he’d never thought to feel again.

  Gemma had done it! She’d overcome her revulsion and kissed him.

  She’d broken the spell.

  Which meant that Gemma was his one true love.

  She was also, incidentally, obligated to complete Arista’s mission to kill him.

  Venero’s thoughts spun even as the pain shot through his body. There was no time to think about the ramifications of what she’d accomplished. He didn’t want her to witness the agony of his transformation. That sight might change everything between them forever. So, he croaked again, and then he hopped, jumping right into the basin of water and swimming hard until he was out of her view. The pavofel leaped to the lip of the pool and swiped into the water with one paw, but missed.

  Venero swam with all his might. He made it through the opening that fed the water into the chamber before the shift began.

  He could only hope that this time, the agony would be easier to endure.

  He knew better than to expect it to be of shorter duration.

  Urbanus would have been thorough like that.

  * * *

  It had been such a perfect conclusion. Gemma had been sure she was right. The toad had admitted to being enchanted. The scent of the Seed was strongest in his presence. He had to be the Carrier of the Seed, the prince whose truth was hidden, her destiny and her HeartKeeper.

  But nothing happened when she kissed him.

  Except that he fled.

  Gemma was disappointed. She’d kissed him between those amber eyes, right on the white dot on his brow, and his skin had been dry and cool to the touch. It hadn’t been that awful to kiss him, after all.

  He’d looked at her, without blinking, for a moment as if she’d surprised him.

  Then he’d croaked and jumped into the pool of water. He’d disappeared so quickly that she had the sense he was running away from her.

  Or from her kiss.

  Gemma supposed he wouldn’t be the first creature to discover that he disliked what he said he wanted, but she was disappointed in him all the same.

  At least he’d given Felice something to do. The pavofel was crouched on the lip of the pool, tail thrashing as she watched for any sign of the toad.

  If he wasn’t the Carrier cursed to take another form, then why could she smell the Seed again? Wasn’t she alone?

  Gemma checked the chamber and the tunnels for other intruders, but didn’t find anyone despite an extensive search. She shivered, realizing the cavern had become chilly. She wrapped herself in her cloak and ate lightly from the provisions as she planned a strategy without the toad. Somehow she’d have to find her way through the mountain to the Citadel, then find the Queen’s Grotto, then identify the antidote. No doubt there would be someone defending the route or the destination, or both. A little insider information would have been welcome, but the toad was gone. Maybe she’d see him again. Maybe not.

  Had Urbanus pursued them? She had to think he would.

&n
bsp; She had to be prepared.

  Gemma rose and began to paint the marks on her own flesh in preparation for battle. If Arista’s ghost had been with her, that spirit was gone. She felt very much alone, and keenly aware that there was no one to paint her back. She turned in place when the marks were as complete as she could make them and felt some frustration at her vulnerability.

  How foolish to miss a toad. She was losing her good sense on this planet. The sooner she could get her dragon back and leave Regalia, the better.

  She needed that antidote, and nothing was going to stand in her path.

  * * *

  Venero writhed on the floor of another cavern, his body wracked with pain. The transition seemed to take an eternity, two eternities, nine thousand times longer than it had taken the first time.

  His limbs stretched until he wanted to scream. He swore he could feel every cell double, triple, grow to ten times its length. Then it would snap and divide, and repeat the process again. He had never been in such anguish in his life. His innards churned as they regained their former shape and dimensions, and Venero bared his teeth in agony. He dared not make a sound, lest he alert Gemma to his condition.

  He didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

  No. He really didn’t want Gemma to see him like this. He didn’t want her to decide that he was weak or unworthy or—worst of all—revolting. And so, he curled on the floor of the cave and endured a pain that he began to fear would never end.

  His skin smoothed and stretched, changing color and texture. Hair sprouted, so slowly that it was excruciating, on his head, his chest, his legs. The cut on his arm from the pavofel’s bite became proportionately larger and the wound opened again, stinging as it bled blue once more. It was the least of his troubles. He bit back a moan as the torment increased to a crescendo and he was sure he couldn’t stand any more. He opened his mouth to bellow and suddenly, his body quivered and stilled.

  Venero took a deep breath.

  He opened his eyes, then smiled at the sight of his hands and forearms. He sat up, running his hands down his legs and over his own torso, needing to feel the evidence that his human form was restored as well as to see it. He shoved a hand through his hair, savoring its thick waves as he never had before. He was covered with perspiration and well aware of the dirt beneath his nails. He was naked, too. He moved away from Gemma’s refuge and immersed himself in the river that ran through the mountain. He scrubbed himself clean in its cold water and barely kept from laughing aloud.