Dragon's Heart (The DragonFate Novels Book 3) Read online

  “But we Pyr don’t have such a talisman,” Rafferty protested.

  “Have you lost the Dragon’s Egg?” Eithne asked, and the Pyr were visibly startled.

  “It’s shattered,” Drake said.

  “But when it was whole, you used it for prophecy.”

  “Erik did,” Rafferty acknowledged and looked shaken. “We believed it was a gift of Gaia.”

  “And in a way it was.” Eithne gestured weakly to Lila. “And your kind have the dark mirror.”

  “Not the dark mirror,” Lila protested with alarm and Rhys was surprised at her reaction. “No one has approached the dark mirror in centuries. It might not even exist any longer.”

  Eithne lifted the stone by the silken cord, smiling as it spun before her.

  “Impossible,” Lila protested. “It’s lost forever, sunk beneath the seas.”

  Eithne shook her head. “You saw it.”

  “That was just a dream,” Lila protested.

  “It awaits you,” Eithne insisted.

  “What’s the dark mirror?” Rhys asked. “Where is it?”

  “It’s in the treasury of the palace in the sunken Isle of the Blessed,” Eithne said. “It was given as a gift to Evenor, many centuries ago. Some said it was a scrying glass. Others called it a portal.”

  “It’s wicked,” Lila said hotly. “It has a will of its own.”

  “Of course, it does,” Eithne acknowledged wearily. “It was made with Regalian magick.”

  A quick glance was exchanged around the table.

  “Are you going to tell them how Regalian magick is more sophisticated?” Sebastian prompted in a silky purr. “It’s not the adjective I would have chosen, but you are the storyteller today.”

  Eithne composed herself with a visible effort. “Earth magick mirrors the desire and the influence of the magician: it does, mostly, what it is commanded to do. The exceptions are invariably the result of poor spell-casting. This is typical of many more rudimentary systems of magick. Regalian magick, in contrast, has been cultivated for so long that it has become a force onto itself. Regalian magick is sentient.”

  Rhys was shocked. He saw Lila nod a little, her expression wary. That was what she didn’t like about the dark mirror. A will of its own. How would that manifest?

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  Eithne continued, her voice shaky. “It has its own impulse, its own desire, and its own agenda. It is not uncommon for Regalian magick to take command of the sorcerer and invert the expected balance of power. I believe that is part of what happened here, with my magick. I believe it wanted to be free of my constraints, to be unfettered, and so it coaxed me into making a gift of it on that long journey between the stars.”

  “But what does it want now?” Rhys asked.

  “What we all want,” Sebastian said, rising to his feet. “Or at least what all rulers and despots want, and what most wizards want—more power. All power. Looks to me like the Dark Queen is getting close if she’s got the gem of the hoard back and her book, too. I’ll guess Embron has the only surviving orb of the pair.”

  Eithne nodded.

  “Forgive me if I don’t want to let the fate of all Others rest on the outcome of that inevitable battle of wills,” Sebastian said. “I think I will have to call in a favor.”

  One minute he was standing beside the chair, and the next he was at the doorway to the kitchen. Rhys didn’t even see him move.

  “I apologize for the disappearance of the 2014 Romanee-Conti Grand Cru,” he said, inclining his head slightly to Rhys. “I could never resist a good red wine.” Rhys caught a glimpse of his smile and then the vampire was gone.

  “Hey!” Rhys protested, standing up in his outrage. “That was a gift!”

  “A splendid one,” Sebastian said from the cellar of the restaurant, laughter in his voice.

  “The wine is gone,” Eithne said, her words no more than an exhalation.

  “It can’t be. It’s under lock and key,” Rhys said, marching toward his wine cellar to check even though he suspected what he would find. There was a whiff of stale air in the cellar, although he was sure there was no access to it from anywhere but the kitchen. He saw a wet footprint on the floor and traced it to one wall, then discovered a seam that he’d never noticed before. The wine cabinet was still locked, but the lock was hanging at a slightly different angle, and the bottle in question was gone.

  Rhys swore.

  “Fancy stuff?” Thorolf asked, appearing at the top of the stairs.

  “It’s worth about fifteen thousand dollars,” Rhys said, hearing his own annoyance. Thorolf whistled in admiration. “I was saving it for a special occasion.”

  “I’ll bet,” Thorolf said. “Like hey, satisfying this firestorm.” He whistled again and winked at Rhys. “It’s hot stuff.”

  “That’s up to Lila,” Rhys said, then climbed the stairs back to the restaurant.

  “I’ve got to think that getting rid of that vampire dude is worth the price, though,” Thorolf said.

  “If he’s really gone,” Rhys replied, to that Pyr’s obvious dismay.

  In the restaurant, the Pyr were talking all at once, and Eithne’s eyes sparkled as she stared at Rhys. She twisted the cord and the stone spun rapidly.

  There was a moment of sharp pain in Rhys’ feet, as if the magick left him with reluctance, then it was gone. The stone flashed, then was dark again.

  The firestorm crackled between him and Lila again, sending one of those orange arcs of flame between them. Rhys didn’t know how he’d stand it. He stared at Lila and she stared back, and there was no one else in the world for him. The firestorm sizzled and crackled, building to the force of an inferno, but he couldn’t look away from the dark promise of her eyes.

  He crossed the restaurant like a man in a daze, then bent, because he couldn’t stop himself, and touched his lips to hers. Lila sighed and parted her lips beneath his, welcoming him. He heard the simultaneous gasp of the Pyr, who had all felt the surge of the firestorm, and closed their eyes against its incendiary heat.

  “You will need this,” Eithne said, her voice faint and raspy. She had aged beyond belief, her skin pale grey, her hair turned to silver, her figure bent and shrunken.

  Rhys watched as the ancient woman offered the stone to Lila again. Lila hesitated for a moment, then accepted it.

  “The magick is yours to command, but there is not much,” Eithne whispered. “Choose well, Lila selkie.”

  Then the cord passed from her fingertips to Lila’s grasp, and Eithne crumbled. Before Rhys’ very eyes, she dissolved into pale grey dust, as insubstantial as a mist. Lila gasped aloud as a little breeze swept the ash into a whirlwind and it vanished.

  Eithne was gone forever.

  Marco, formerly the Sleeper of the Pyr, stood outside the cottage on Bardsey Island and breathed deeply of the night. It was impossible to forget that he had slumbered for centuries in this very place, enchanted by Pwyll for his own safety. His defense had been entrusted to Rafferty and then to Donovan. He wasn’t certain when he had been brought to the island, but he knew it well. The sound and smell of it, the rhythm of it, was woven into his very marrow.

  The cavern where he had slept had collapsed. The Slayers had been defeated, including the one who had invaded that cavern. Marco’d had his firestorm and he smiled that his mate, Jac, and their sons slept so deeply in the cottage behind him. This place remained a sanctuary. He tipped his head back and savored the sight of the stars, so many stars, so bright that he felt he could reach up and take a handful. The wind was brisk off the seas and there would be clear cold days ahead.

  He felt the flicker of darkfire and wondered at its source.

  Marco shifted shape and stretched out across the cool earth. His dragon form was black as night, but his scales were touched with a blue-green shimmer evocative of darkfire. He slowed his breathing and blended with the shadows, so still that only the glitter of his eyes would reveal his presence to an observer. His sen
ses were sharper in his dragon form, his vision more keen, his hearing more acute. He saw the distant sparks of darkfire and realized they were gathering.

  At first he thought the darkfire was coming to him, but then he heard an old familiar chant, a summons that was being sung softly—and not by him. He peered more deeply into the shadows on the hill behind the cottage and discerned a figure.

  The hitchhiker from the wharf. Yes, there had been something about him. That man held the pieces of a shattered crystal in his cupped hands and sang to them. The darkfire flowed to his hands, glinting in the pieces of stone, gathering with ever greater speed.

  Another voice joined the song, a deep voice that came from the cottage. Marco saw the shadows shift as Malduc stepped into the night and walked toward the hitchhiker in the hills. He sang, his chant joining that of the hitchhiker, buttressing the summons with his own song. The darkfire gathered more quickly, a flurry of blue-green sparks circling those broken pieces of stone.

  Interesting. Marco wondered how many others Pwyll had tutored in his time.

  The hitchhiker didn’t look up at Malduc’s approach, but his song became a little more insistent. Marco might have guessed he was Uther but was certain only when the singer began to rapidly shift shape. He became a dragon, a deer, a lion, an eagle—the transformations were quick and dizzying to watch, the shimmering halo of blue light never fading completely before he shifted and it flared again. In each form, he held the broken crystal in his hands or his claws.

  And the darkfire sparks danced with joy as they approached him, as if reunited with an old friend.

  Marco heard Emyas come out of the house, following his brother Malduc and joining the song. He didn’t wait to learn whether the other Pyr in the cottage would join in, but began to sing himself. Malduc was startled by his voice, his gaze searching the shadows until he spotted Marco. But Uther simply smiled, then shifted and sang even more.

  The darkfire gathered with greater speed, the stars shone down upon them, and Marco knew all would be right.

  Unlike his fellows, Marco trusted the darkfire completely.

  It was snowing outside when Rhys finally led Lila out of the restaurant. Big white flakes were tumbling lazily out of the sky, as if in slow motion. The street was quiet, especially after most of the Pyr departed. Niall and Thorolf had taken Alasdair and Hadrian back to the apartment where Thorolf was staying. Hadrian was going to stay in New York for a bit to supervise the repair to the restaurant door and window. They’d nailed plywood over it for the time being. Drake was going back to Kristofer’s place to bring Erik up to date. Balthasar, Rafferty and Melissa were going to meet Rhys and Lila at the airport in the morning to fly to the UK.

  Each had a job and a responsibility, and Lila understood that each would do his best to fulfill it. Rhys had his arm draped over her shoulder as they waved farewell and she enjoyed the increased heat of the firestorm in his close proximity, especially on such a cold night.

  “Brrr,” Rhys said with a shiver and Lila smiled at him. “It’s nights like this that I miss Malta.”

  Rafferty paused before getting into the cab after Melissa. “Maybe there’s something you should do to warm up,” he suggested with a teasing glint in his eyes. “It would make travel a lot easier.”

  “I have you and Balthasar to help with the beguiling,” Rhys said easily. “And we picked seats apart from each other.” He squeezed Lila’s shoulders. “It’ll be fine.”

  Rafferty hesitated. “You only have this opportunity once, Rhys,” he said softly, reminding the other Pyr of something Lila was sure he hadn’t forgotten.

  “Having a child is a big commitment,” Rhys replied. “The choice is Lila’s since she has to do the hard part.”

  Rafferty looked between the two of them, his doubts clear. “I wonder...”

  “I know what you wonder,” Rhys said gently. “But I have only one chance to get this right. You taught me that.”

  Rafferty nodded then and got into the cab, leaving them standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.

  “Are you trying to be my champion?” she teased and Rhys chuckled as he led her toward the elevator.

  “Not really. I just want more than sex. More than one night.”

  “We could have lots of sex,” Lila suggested again. “Like I said, I could choose not to conceive every morning and we could satisfy the firestorm over and over again. It would be fun.”

  “I admit it’s a tempting idea,” Rhys said and pushed the button for the elevator. He smiled down at her but his eyes were serious. “But I want so much more.”

  “Why? Sex is good. Sex is great. It can be more than enough.”

  Rhys shook his head. “Sex is not what I’ve been waiting for. You can find that kind of satisfaction anywhere. I want a partnership. I want a family. And that means I need to help you trust me.”

  Lila opened her mouth to say that she did, then thought the better of it. She was too tired to think straight and the firestorm had a way of making her want to charm Rhys into giving her more than a good night’s sleep.

  “Thank you for helping Hadrian,” he said. “I know you weren’t sure of his motives.”

  “But you were. I was glad to help.”

  They stepped into the elevator. He’d grabbed a box of salt from the kitchen of the restaurant after cleaning up and gave it to her.

  “Since you used up the last one,” he said as they ascended.

  Lila hugged the box and smiled back at him. “Thanks.” It would be easy to get used to having a dragon shifter in her life, a protective one who anticipated her needs.

  It would be easy to get used to having Rhys in her life.

  “What did you think of dreamwalking?”

  “I couldn’t see exactly what Niall was doing, but he explained some of it to me. And I could see how he was healing Alasdair by the improvement in his aura.” Lila frowned. “I guess each kind has their own healing rituals and processes. It’s fascinating.” She didn’t say anything about learning more because that was fraught with implications—and promises she wasn’t ready to make.

  Rhys nodded, then the elevator doors opened and they stepped into the corridor.

  She thought of the Pyr and how readily they worked together as a team. She thought of the list Rhys had given her, just that morning, of the Pyr she could call to help with their son: the dragon shifters she’d met were on that list and she knew he trusted them completely.

  Her son, if she chose to conceive him, would have a dozen fathers, no matter what happened to Rhys. He’d have a community and a family, one that was prepared to do whatever was necessary for his good.

  Lila couldn’t help feeling a little bit jealous of that.

  Rhys’ apartment felt like a haven, especially lit with the welcoming glow of the firestorm. The snow swirled outside the windows and he didn’t turn on any lights. She wondered whether the firestorm was meant to cast a romantic light. Rhys didn’t seem bent on seduction, though. He went into the bedroom, evidently expecting her to head to the bathroom. Lila stood and watched him, hugging the box of salt.

  “Are you going to pack much?” she asked, wanting to linger with him for a minute.

  Rhys came out of the bedroom with something shiny in his hand. “All I really need is this and my passport, but take your time. I can sleep on the couch tonight.”

  “I thought you’d want to snuggle up on such a cold night,” she teased.

  Rhys gave her a simmering look. “I know my limits.” He put down the shiny item and opened a closet, removing a blanket and pillow.

  Lila was curious. “What’s this?” she asked, picking up the token hung on a gold chain. It was beautiful, a gold L studded with pearls, with a large ruby on the end of each arm. It looked as if a gem was missing from the point where the two arms met. An L. “Something to remember Llewelyn?”

  “Something like that,” Rhys said, lifting it out of her hand. He ran his thumb across it in a caress he probably wasn’t aware
of, then put it gently down on the table beside his passport. “It was my mother’s.”

  “Did she have an R, too?”

  “No, it’s not an L.” Rhys turned it, as if he’d never thought of that before. “It’s half of her crucifix.”

  “You said she was on pilgrimage when she met your father in Malta.”

  Rhys nodded. “And this was the cross on her rosary. It was just plain gold then, but my father had it studded with gems after she agreed to marry him.” He smiled a little in reminiscence and Lila felt another stab of envy. “She was a widow and her marriage had been barren. Her husband blamed her and when he died, she was afraid to marry again. He’d been a lot older than her, and she wasn’t sure that any new husband would be kinder. So, she went on a pilgrimage to ask for the Lord’s blessing.”

  Rhys touched the talisman gently as Lila watched him. His eyes were dark with memories. “She was kneeling in the church, saying her prayers for the night, when the firestorm sparked. My father was a man-at-arms and he earned his keep as a guard when there were no wars to fight. He’d been guarding the treasury of the church when she came to pray.” His smile broadened. “The story was that he fell in love at first sight, but that she was more cautious.”

  Lila bit back a smile of her own.

  “What?” Rhys asked, meeting her gaze.

  “Are all you dragons smitten quickly?”