The door to the room clicked shut. Layala’s heart thudded like a drum. Thane turned around and took her face between his palms, then kissed her. The intensity of it made her pull him in. His rough stubble lightly rubbed her skin. She grabbed and tore one of the buckles holding on Thane’s armor, thankful he only had one on each side. Her body throbbed for him. She couldn’t wait any longer to have him. They bumped into the dresser, lips trailing over exposed skin. Thane growled low and snapped the buckles on her top armor, Layala raised her arms up and he jerked it over her head in one swift motion. It fell to the floor with a thud. And the other pieces and clothes came off, dropping to the floor with clanks of metal on stone.
Thane’s big hands clamped around her rump and lifted her up. “I’m supposed to be taking this slowly, kissing your thighs.”
But she didn’t want slow torture. Her body demanded all of him right then. She slid onto the dresser top and pulled him in with her legs. “Not slowly,” she said and dragged him to her mouth. “Don’t make me wait.”
Layala’s backside bumped into the clutter on the dresser. Without looking, she reached back to clear it away, but her hand dipped into something sticky and warm. She looked down to see it covered in chocolate. A bowl of it with a tray of fruit waited beside her.
“Mmm,” he murmured and took hold of her wrist and sucked the chocolate off her middle finger. “Tastier on you.” Hot kisses pressed over her throat, and she shivered with pleasure. “Listen, my love, you must wait. I said I’d kiss your thighs first.” He grinned knowing the torture he caused her. He pressed his lips to her outer thigh then drug his tongue over the top where chocolate dripped. His hands slid up to her hips and dug into the soft flesh. “And then here.” He kissed the inside of her knee.
“Thane,” she pleaded, sliding her chocolate-covered palm over his shoulder and across his chest.
“I’m not finished.” He kissed higher, his breath whisking across her sensitive area. “I want to know how you taste.”
Layala leaned back into the wall, closing her eyes. She didn’t know if the moaning came from her or the wind outside. She was lost, transported until he lifted and kissed his way up to her lips.
“Better than chocolate,” he said and jerked her to the edge of the dresser where he stood between her thighs.
“I want you,” Layala said, gliding her tongue over his chest, tasting the salt of his skin and the sweetness of chocolate.
“Yes, Lady.” A slow serpentine smile spread. “Anything you command.”
In between training, they spent the allotted two days in that bedroom, drowning in pleasure, aching for the need to be touched and caressed. It was as if the more they made love, the stronger she felt, invigorating her with an unseen power. Thane even commented on her skin having a golden luster it didn’t before. And if it was possible his green eyes were even brighter. She wanted him more and more with every look he gave her, every kiss he stole. Since their violent separation, they hadn’t had the time to spend alone like this— to just be.
Light fingers trailed along the curve of Layala’s waist and over her hip, waking her from her sleep. Layala rubbed her eyes and combed stray hair off of her face. The window was left open to let in a cool, night breeze that smelled of lilac and lavender. Thane lay next to her; the silky blanket covered him from the waist down, but he was naked underneath. She had the urge to slide her leg over his hips, but he looked troubled as he stared at the wall behind her. She wasn’t sure he even realized he had woken her up. “What’s wrong?”
He pulled his gaze to hers. “Huh?”
“You seem… lost.”
“Oh.” He was quiet and resumed sliding his fingers along her hip. “I had a dream that woke me.”
“What about?”
“My father… Again.” They both waited in silence for several beats before he went on. “Like before but worse. His corpse tells me I am like him.” He swallowed hard. “And sometimes I wonder, what if I am?”
Layala’s cheeks warmed at the absolute fury she felt that he could believe he was anything like Tenebris. “You’re nothing like him. Not even a little. You do bad things for the good of other people. You are good in here.” She pressed her hand over his heart. “And the only good thing Tenebris ever did was bind us together as mates.”
The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “For that I am thankful.”
She hated that he harbored any guilt or conflict at all when it came to Tenebris. The wicked king didn’t deserve to occupy even a piece of Thane’s precious heart. “I want you to know and remember that I love you more than I hate him.”
His eyebrows rose. That seemed to surprise him.
“Does only a magic spell make us mates? Or can I call you that without it? Because I feel like we were destined to be together. As if the fates would see to it no matter what happened. Do you feel that way?” She took a lock of his dark-brown hair between her fingers. Couldn’t they be more? Magic may have brought them together, but it didn’t make them fall in love.
“Maybe your soul is mated to mine. A soul mate.” He inhaled deeply. “I’ve felt like I’ve known you for as long as I can remember. And maybe it was because of our mate bond but sometimes I feel—more. I would find you in every life, in every realm. I will be drawn to you for eternity. So yes, call me your mate. I will always call you mine.”
Piper’s boots clacked lightly on the marble floor. Layala watched her fire-haired friend in the mirror’s reflection. The other three Ravens waited outside in the hallway while Layala got ready. Thane sat on the bed tossing a small white ball up over and over again, dressed in bronze dragon-scale armor and prepared for the fight that would take place in an hour. Layala held a hairpin between her teeth and fought with the tangles that matted the back overnight. Where was Tifapine when she needed her?
“Let me do it,” Piper demanded, snatching the brush right out of Layala’s hand. “And we need something to make you look fierce, edgy.” She jerked the comb through Layala’s hair.
“I don’t look fierce?”
“No, you look like a fairy-tale princess.”
The brush snagged on a knot, Layala winced, and Piper mercilessly jerked out pieces of her hair. “I’m wearing armor. And I have a sword that I’m quite skilled at using, I might add. That’s fierce.”
“It’s your face. Stunning—beautiful, but it doesn’t incite fear.” Piper set the brush on the side table and worked her fingers through.
Layala rolled her eyes. “Oh, but Thane’s does?”
“Yeah.” She pushed Layala’s head to one side and started a braid down above her ear. “He looks like he’ll tear your head off and that’s when he’s not angry. It’s his general vibe.”
Thane chuckled.
“My general vibe is ‘piss off’.”
“True,” Piper said, with a laugh. “But I have an idea.” After she finished braiding, she pulled a small, round, golden case from her pocket. It almost looked like a locket. Piper grabbed Layala’s shoulder and spun her around, so they faced one another. “While you two were… living in fantasyland, I found out some things about this match.” Piper popped open the case and inside contained ebony and crimson powder. She dipped her fingertip inside the black and then dragged it across Layala’s forehead.
“What things? Thane asked.
“Prince Ronan is easily swayed by a couple demure smiles and teasing comments for one.” Piper brushed the black power over Layala’s eyes and the bridge of her nose. “I think he’d divulge every family secret to me at this point.”
“Because he wants to hump you,” Thane said and leaned back on the pillows with his hands behind his head. “He might even want more. That dragon is fascinated with you. Keep stringing him along.”
“Tell him to get in line,” Layala said and winked at Piper. “You got a host of males after you lately.” Although Fennan seemed to have backed off completely. He and Piper hadn’t spoken much since they arrived here.
“Don’t move. You’ll mess this up,” Piper said, as a flush flooded her cheeks. “Anyway, I asked for a tour of the area where you’ll be fighting. It’s a massive arena. It could hold at least ten thousand. There is blood stained in the dirt, and several doors all around the base of the walls to the fighting area. I think, to let things in.”
Layala nibbled on her lower lip. “What kind of things?”
“He didn’t say, and we didn’t go look but I heard—wailing—screeching.”
Layala looked over Piper’s shoulder at Thane. Her throat suddenly felt dry. “You mean like pale ones?”
“What if they are dragon shifted and cursed?” Piper lowered her voice. “Can you imagine?”
Thane jumped out of bed and his footfalls interrupted the silence. “The dragons stay here in the mountains to avoid the curse. They don’t want pale ones here, let alone dragon ones. Don’t worry about that.” He smiled at Layala. “You look phenomenal. Excellent idea, Piper.”
Layala twisted to see but Piper grabbed her arm and forced her back. “I’m not done.’’ She rubbed her thumb in the crimson and then swiped one line from Layala’s lower lip, to the bottom of her chin. “Alright, now you can look.”
War paint. It’s the only thing she could describe it as. The black smeared over her eyes and forehead like a mask and three red runes centered just below her hairline, and the line on her chin made the look all the more fierce. Her light-blue eyes stood out like bright orbs against the ebony paint. “What do those runes mean?”
“It’s Old Elvish, not Black Mage’s runes, don’t worry. And it means ‘goddess of war’.”
Layala grinned and really looked at herself in the mirror. She did look like a goddess of war. “Piper, you’re the greatest. Thank you.”
“Whether you are a descendant of them or not, you’re worthy of the title.”
The ground vibrated with the stomping and roaring of thousands of dragon shifters. The sound deadened the rasps of the vultures circling high above. Layala dragged deep breaths in; vultures waited to consume dead flesh, Maker, she hoped it wouldn’t be hers. The sand-colored arena stood nearly as high as the walls surrounding the city. Vines snaked up and around the massive three levels of arched doorways large enough to fit a fully-shifted dragon. Overhead they flew in by the hundreds, shimmering a rainbow of colors. Some swooped low to blast wind, stirring up the dirt into little dust devils. Thane took hold of Layala’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. That was enough to calm her even if a little.
Prince Ronan kept walking while Layala, Piper and Thane stared up. “Maker bless and watch over them,” Piper murmured, then kissed the inside of her fingers and held her hand to the sky.
Ronan turned around and walked backward. “They will need that blessing today.” He smiled. “It’s not too late to back down.”
“You can tell your brother that as well so long as he hands over the scepter.” Thane strode forward, tugging Layala with him. They stepped into a tunnel and the chink of their armor bounced off the walls. The dozen guards surrounding them marched in perfect sync.
I am brave. I am strong. I am a goddess of war. Layala’s stomach cramped despite her self-talk. Dragon shifters hung over the railings tossing blood-red rose petals; they drifted down around them like snowflakes. Layala’s boots stomped over the crimson flowers covering their pathway and all she could think was that it was the color of blood.
“A farewell gift,” Ronan said over his shoulder.
They thought this was the end of the elf king and his beloved. Layala tried to ignore it but the thought of them tossing rose petals as a goodbye made her skin crawl.
She looked up to see if they laughed at their attempt, if they mocked, but one face stood out among them.
Holy Maker above—Varlett.
It had been a week since they’d seen her in Newarden. Had she been here this entire time? Why show her face now? She smiled and blew a handful of scarlet rose petals out of her palm.
“Varlett is here,” Layala whispered.
Thane looked up nonchalantly. “You’re sure?”
“I saw her.”
“Varlett and the rest of them can rot in hell. I am the Warrior King, and you are Layala Lightbringer, and this is not where we will meet our end.”
She pushed all fear down and locked it away in that deep darkness she used to hide her magic in. Her face became stone. The spirit of the warrior washed over her, swimming through her veins until every muscle tensed ready to strike, until she was detached from the fear of loss, of death, of anything, the same she-elf who came to that castle to assassinate her enemies. She was not prey. She was the predator.
Prince Ronan stopped in the center of a massive archway leading out onto the dirt floor of the arena. Layala looked past him to where Prince Yoren already waited for them in the center. His huge wings protruded from his human form, but his skin shifted into silvery, shiny dragon scales. The hairs on Layala’s body prickled. If intimidation had a physical form, it would be him. And it didn’t help that the walls had skulls inlaid among the stone or that the crowd chanted, “Yoren! Yoren! Yoren!” until the sound vibrated through her chest.
Ronan placed one hand on Layala’s shoulder and the other on Thane’s. “All you have to do is get the scepter. Once you hold it, it’s over.”
Was Ronan truly on their side? Or did he only like to play games with his brother and cause problems for his family in general? He was difficult to read. But Layala nodded and raised her chin.
Ronan pursed his lips. “Remember what I said about other obstacles. Watch your back. This match is rigged against you.” He glanced over his shoulder at his brother, who paced back and forth like a caged wolf. “Get him to shift. It sounds counterintuitive but the scepter will be larger and easier to take. It adjusts with him. He’ll avoid shifting if he can. It will make him appear weak if he has to take the form against elves.”
“It will be easier to grab but he’ll be much harder to take down and kill,” Thane said.
“You don’t have to kill him. I suggest you don’t, or my mother may kill your mate for spite and let you live to suffer.” Ronan smirked and winked at Layala. “Remember you’re of goddess blood, Layala.” He stepped out of the way. “May the Maker and All Mother bless you with victory.”
Layala reached back and tugged her sword handle; it scraped on its way free. In her left grip, she held a shield nearly half her size; one she could duck behind to escape a fire blast. But she rarely used shields in her training and not once in battle; it was heavy and disturbed her balance. Thane equipped himself with two swords, an ax and several daggers. Layala checked her belt one more time; her trusty throwing stars latched all around her hips made of the same metal as her dragon sword.
“Ready?” Thane asked.
She nodded once and side by side they stepped out into the open. The chanting and cheering shifted to “boos’’ and roaring. Layala’s skin itched and crawled with the force of her magic’s reaction. It wanted to lash out and fight, strangle and maim. The dragons among the crowd wouldn’t be able to come down here and join the fight, would they?
“Remember what we talked about?” Thane asked, chin held high, chest out. One sword swung at his side. The other remained in its scabbard on his back for now.
“Yes.” She’d thought about their plan all night and morning.
“Don’t let that temper of yours take over. Keep your head clear, look for weakness. If we stick together, we’ll survive this.”
Layala’s breaths came faster the closer they drew. Each footstep felt like it led to her doom—to the loss of him, again. She raised up her shield to neck level and held her sword at chest height. “I don’t know if the shield is going to work for me.”
“If it hinders you, toss it. You can always pick it back up.”
Prince Yoren jumped side to side and rolled his shoulders. He wore only loose-fitting deep-red pants that hung low on his hips; no shoes, no armor, one sword and one ax. Gold bracers with a single rune mark clamped around his wrists and mid-forearms. What did that symbol mean? His silver scales glinted in the sun which seemed to be growing hotter by the moment. Sweat trickled down Layala’s back and between her breasts, dampening her under clothes. The tight fitting, thick armor didn’t help and neither did the nerves.
A loud female voice boomed, echoing around the circular arena, “Crown Prince Yoren Drakonan, protector and guardian of the god’s scepter, welcomes the challengers Layala Lightbringer, elven mage and future Queen of Palenor, and High King Thane Athayel of Palenor, known as the Warrior King.” There was a pause for the crowd to boo, hiss, and spit. Red petals showered from everywhere splattering across the arena floor. “May the All Mother condemn the interlopers and bring favor to our most-cherished Prince Yoren Drakonan.”
