The Dragon Prince's Promise (Dragongrove Book 5) Read online

  So she was altogether disappointed when he released her head, turned from her and rose from his seat.

  “Alright, then,” he said, and stalked off before he was quickly swallowed by darkness.

  She wandered back to the cabin, later, her head still spinning and her legs unsure. She stoked up the fire, pulled her furs over Juliette’s shoulders and then herself, and fell into fevered dreams of the earth cracking like an egg and Tate laughing at it.

  Nine

  Elsie hadn’t been plagued by nightmares—as much as she once had been—since coming to this place. They’d changed, though, they’d morphed from something human and possible and utterly consuming to something...more. She found they they were progressively more fantastic, and progressively more terrifying.

  As she jerked awake for the third time, her heart racing and her chin trembling, she decided that she wouldn’t be sleeping again that night. There was only darkness outside the small window, and the fire burned low, so she pulled her cloak around herself and added fuel to the fire, keeping a wary eye on Juliette’s peacefully sleeping form.

  The moon was full enough that she could just make out her feet in the darkness. She couldn’t see the smoking peak in the distance, but as she glanced that way, she shuddered. She’d dreamed of fire and ash, and the world splitting in two, cracking in half like an egg. Monstrous wolf-like creatures, black and winged and writhing, had crawled from the hole, swarming over every inch of the mountainside. When she hadn’t been able to see any earth at all, when the gray rocks had transformed into a mass of writhing black, the dead had begun to crawl from the crack. There were many, many bodies scrambling up—faces she didn’t recognize and had never seen before, but also her father’s body, burned beyond recognition, and her mother, looking radiant and whole and just how she’d imagined her.

  She’d awoken, then she’d needed to be outside to remind herself that the world was whole. She wasn’t entirely surprised when she found herself wandering down the path to camp, to just outside of where Tate slept, and as she peered into the depths of darkness beyond the entrance, she didn’t think—just followed her instincts.

  He had the smoldering remains of a fire, with just enough light so that she didn’t trip over where he lay, sprawled across a makeshift bed of furs. He looked different when he slept, cast in an orange glow from the fire. She silently tiptoed to where he lay and stood over him, still confused about why she was there, still confused about what had inspired her to come here, of all places, for comfort.

  She had made up her mind to leave, to silently sprint back to the cabin, to crawl in beside Juliette and stay awake until morning, if she must. She backed away slowly, quietly, but couldn’t stifle her small gasp when he sat up, all at once.

  His gaze went straight to her, as if he’d already known that she was there. He stood up slowly while she was frozen to the spot, and then she was overcome at just how much space he took up.

  “I’m sorry,” she breathed, staring at him with wide eyes. “I shouldn’t have been in here.”

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, rising and moving to her side. “Are you alright?”

  She nodded once, then stopped. “I don’t know,” she said. She pulled her cloak a little tighter around herself.

  He stepped closer to her, so close she could feel the heat from him. She didn’t think, didn’t decide, just leaned in to close the remaining inches and pressed her face against him.

  His bare chest was absolutely scorching under her cold cheek; his arms were also hot as they moved around her waist and pulled her closer. Her breath was ragged, her heart was thundering, but she didn’t care—didn’t care that he could hear it and knew—because under her ear, his heart was racing, too.

  “What happened, Elsie?” he murmured.

  “I just...had a bad dream. I don’t know why I came here. I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  She took a deep breath and shuddered—remembering the undulating black mass covering the earth—remembering her father’s charred corpse. “I dreamed of the dead.”

  He turned his head to her so quickly she wondered what could have possibly caught his attention in what she’d said.

  “Tell me more?” he said. “Please.”

  His grip on her was warm, his arms around her were reassuring; the way his breath seemed to catch in his throat was anything but.

  She described her dream to him, described the way the earth had cracked like an egg, and what exactly had poured out from inside. She described the way the entire mountainside had been covered in the mass of writhing creatures, and what had followed the monsters.

  “You said you dreamed of the dead?”

  She nodded. “My father was there—and my mother. And a thousand other faces that I didn’t know, all crawling out from the split in the world.”

  He tightened his grip around her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after a minute, pulling away from him and frowning up at him. “I don’t know why I came here. I should get back—I need to keep an eye on Juliette.”

  He watched her strangely, but nodded. She wasn’t sure why she felt a sudden pang of loss at his agreement.

  Elsie turned for the mouth of the cave, pulling her hood back up. She was surprised that he was next to her, then, and surprised when he walked with her into the cold wind.

  He was right beside her; not touching her, but so close that she could feel him. She felt silly as she walked; she felt ridiculous for a bad dream sending her straight to the man that she was finding herself increasingly thinking about. She frowned at the smoking peak as she walked, and from the corner of her eye, she could see Tate watching her.

  She finally approached the cabin, and pulled open the door to slip away from the cold wind beating against her face. She turned to say good night, to say thank you, to say—she didn’t know what—but he had already disappeared back into the darkness.

  Ten

  Elsie awoke one morning and realized she’d lost count of the days she’d been there. She thought that it had been around two weeks, and then had the unsettling realization that it could very well have been a month. Her days were monotonous; her nights were cold and easily forgotten.

  Tate made her crazy. He hadn’t mentioned her strange intrusion after her nightmare; not the next morning or in the days since. But still he’d eaten next to her every evening, made friendly conversation with her, and always, always refused to send her home. She thought that he might feel bad about that, at least, as there was always something like regret on his face whenever she brought it up.

  She clung to those moments. She wanted to go home, she was desperate to go home, and she should hate the man who kept her there. She couldn’t hate him, though, even if she tried. Being able to imagine that he at least felt bad about it made her feel less guilty when her mind wandered to him—the way he made her laugh, the way he checked on her throughout the day, the way his infuriating hair fell across his face.

  She stared into the early light of the morning, as it spilled through the only window in the cabin. It was cloudy as ever, and the dull light transformed the golden wood of the walls into something more gray, something more dreary. It matched her mood.

  She had once known a life where a gray sky meant that her clothes would be wet for days, and that she would be shivering until she saw the sun again. Where rain wasn’t something that just happened occasionally, but something she planned for, something she based nearly all of her decisions around. She realized suddenly that in that life she’d never encountered snow. She shuddered at the thought of it, and remembered to feel a little bit grateful.

  She turned onto her other side, seeking Juliette’s warmth. She’d been awake the night before and talking as much as she had since they’d arrived—Elsie hoped very much that it proved to be a good sign, that it meant that she would be well enough to travel and that they could finally, finally convince Tate to send them home. Elsie felt a lit
tle selfish thinking of it. Juliette longed to return home for her sisters’ sakes; Elsie just wanted to be home for her own.

  She turned to find Juliette’s eyes already open. Her relief turned quickly to panic, though, as Elsie realized that her expression was totally vacant, that there was absolutely no life behind her eyes. Elsie breathed quickly as she felt the woman’s neck for a pulse. Heat radiated off of her, so much that Elsie knew this was it. She was battling for her life. The only thing worse than so much heat, she thought, would have been if she were entirely cold.

  She gathered the bandages that she’d cleaned the night before, soaked them, and laid them across Juliette’s forehead and chest and arms. She peeled the binding around her torso back, and stifled the urge to cry. The gash was mostly healed over, but the part that remained opened was slick with clear fluid, and great red streaks covered her, extending upward toward her chest. It smelled, too; something nauseating and sweet and rotten. She smelled like a corpse.

  She set herself to cleaning Juliette’s wound, as she had, over and over. She replaced the wet cloths as they warmed and propped the door open, letting the frigid arctic air in. Nothing seemed to make a difference to the heat coming from Juliette.

  Elsie swore quietly and pulled on her cloak, taking a last look at her friend.

  •••••

  “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” he asked, putting one big hand on Juliette’s forehead and focusing his gaze on Elsie.

  “She needs help, not someone to wave away my concerns and say she’ll be fine. You can see why you didn’t come to mind right away.” She sighed, not turning away from where she dabbed the wet cloth along Juliette’s neck.

  “I will help,” he said, and he watched Elsie so intently that she couldn’t help but feel it and meet his eyes. “You’ll both go back to the palace.”

  “I’ve been asking for your help for weeks,” she snapped. “Why does it have to get this far? If she travels like this, she’ll be dead long before she reaches home. You’re sending me home with a corpse.”

  “She’ll be alright,” he promised, and when Elsie opened her mouth to throw a retort at him he put his finger against her lips. “She will,” he continued, “I promise. Continue what you’re doing—keep her cool, make her drink if you can. I’ll be back shortly with...help.” He paused oddly on the last word.

  Elsie couldn’t say anything before he stood to his full height and disappeared. It was inappropriate, she supposed, to feel such relief as her friend’s life was so fragile, but the promise of returning home made her heart feel light again. She didn’t know why Tate’s shoulders had slumped as he’d told her that, or why an undercurrent of loss ran through her even as she tended to Juliette.

  •••••

  Tate approached the large cavern with trepidation. He hated coming here, he hated the revolting energy that surrounded the place. He ignored the many stares as he approached, the countless eyes that followed him without any spark of life behind them. There, seated in front of a large table carved from stone, Vodan was where he always was, with a heavy tome spread open in front of him. Tate hated the sight.

  “I’m sending them home,” he said by way of greeting.

  Vodan looked up, slightly surprised, but then trained his features into an expression that was as unreadable as ever. “I thought we had discussed this, Tate. I want them to stay.”

  Tate sighed. “If I don’t send her home, she will die. It’s not days anymore—it’s a matter of hours now. If she dies, this entire thing you’ve built comes crashing down, whether I cooperate or not. You don’t want that. You know I don’t want that. So bind her up, keep her stable, and I’ll make sure she’s returned.”

  Vodan folded his hands together in front of him, thoughtfully. “I don’t like having anything to do with the royals. Perhaps, though, I’ll be able to alter her memories slightly, and they won’t know a thing about us.”

  “The other one, too. They’re both just asking for trouble, and we’ve spent so long building this delicate balance. They need to be gone.” The words were painful even as he said them. Of course he didn’t want Elsie to leave—of course he didn’t want her away from him for longer than a second. She was desperate to return home, though. More importantly, if she stayed then it was only a matter of time before Vodan knew what she was to him. She would become yet another bargaining chip in the sickening game that he seemed to enjoy playing.

  The man considered him while Tate kept his face carefully neutral. Moments passed and he worried that he’d given away too much by his face already. He wouldn’t—couldn’t risk her. After what felt like a lifetime, the man nodded once.

  Tate wanted to sigh in relief and to slump in exhaustion, but did neither. “Today,” he said. “It needs to be done as soon as possible. The injured one won’t last.”

  “It sounds like you’re concerned about her,” Vodan said slyly.

  Tate was silently pleased. If the mage thought that his affections were directed that way, perhaps he wouldn't see the truth. “I’m concerned about being hunted by palace guards searching for her. I’m concerned that she’ll die and I’ll be arrested and there will be no one here to keep the mountain as it is. I don’t want that, and I know that you don’t.”

  “The sick one is so very beautiful,” Vodan said. “We could let her die, and I could—”

  “No,” Tate interrupted. “No more bargains. I’ve been clear. You have the time that we’ve agreed on, but no more bargains.”

  The mage stared at him for a long moment, while Tate tried not to let relief shine through. The women would be going home—Elsie would be safe. He kept his jaw set and his eyes narrowed, though.

  “Alright,” said Vodan, finally. “This afternoon. Prepare them for it.”

  Eleven

  “So you’re killing her?” Elsie asked, her eyes wide and her mouth open to protest further.

  “This will save her,” Tate said. “I’ve seen Vodan do this before. The king will be able to revive her.”

  She lowered her voice and looked toward the mouth of the small cave. “I don’t trust him,” she said. She turned her attention to the infuriating man towering over her. “I don’t trust you either, but he’s...”

  Tate had returned to the cabin more quickly that Elsie had expected, and had insisted that she collect her things quickly and come back to his cave to wait. He’d carried Juliette the whole way, while Elsie had filled her arms with soft furs and spare clothing from the trunk. If they were to travel, she wanted the chance to be as warm as possible.

  She’d been alarmed to find a man that she hadn’t seen before waiting for them there. An actual man, too; not a shifter, but a real human man. There was nothing striking about him, nothing particularly off, but she didn’t like him all the same. There was the odd way that he’d studied Juliette’s sleeping form, with hunger in his gaze.

  He’d directed Tate to lay Juliette outside, near where the large fire was lit every evening. Elsie had protested, had been immensely bothered to leave her alone with the man, but Tate had assured her of Juliette’s safety and insisted that she return to his cave with him. He’d pulled her down the dark passage a little ways to talk in private.

  He nodded slightly. “I understand. But he has a vested interest in her returning home safely. It ensures...it doesn’t matter. I swear to you, she will make it home.”

  Elsie chewed on her lip as she watched him, wondering when she’d become so comfortable telling this intimidating stranger her worries. Wondering when he, of all people, had become her only ally. “I’m going with her?” she asked.

  He nodded again, and something changed in his expression. He raised his hand to her face and brushed his fingers across her cheek, and then brought his hand to rest with his palm on her cheek. She leaned into it without meaning to, without knowing why. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “This isn’t what I want, Elsie. This isn’t fair to you.”

  “I’m really going home?” she breathed.
>
  “Yes,” he breathed. She wasn’t sure why he looked so distressed, why he looked as if he would never see her again—why he looked as if that mattered. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” he said, “because it won’t matter in an hour. But to do it without your knowledge...bothers me. Vodan is a skilled mage in most aspects—except for healing, obviously. In exchange for Juliette’s safe return, he insists on altering what you’ll remember—both of you. Just of this place, just of the people you’ve met here. You’ll wake in your bed feeling as if you’d just gone to sleep there the night before. I imagine everyone else will be a bit confused, though.” He smiled wryly.

  “No,” she said before he had even finished. “No, that’s not fair.”

  “You have to,” he said, but at least had the decency to look ashamed. “He won’t make Juliette stable for travel if you don’t agree. Elsie, she will die if she remains here.”

  “That’s not fair,” she said again, and obnoxious tears sprung to her eyes once more. She rubbed her cheek against his palm, not caring about being forward, not caring about him understanding her true attraction. Not if she was going to be sent away like this. “I don’t want to forget...everything.”

  “I don’t want you to, either,” he said.

  She paused for a minute, and then deciding it didn’t matter, took a tiny step forward into his chest. She leaned her head forward onto him, feeling his scorching heat through his shirt. She wound her arms around him. “Tell me, then,” she said. “If I’m going to forget anyway, tell me why you’re here. Tell me why I’m here.”

  “I can’t risk it,” he murmured, his arms already having circled around her back. “I’m sorry. I know that it appears that I’m the one in control here, but...it’s not what it seems.”