Dragon in the Blood (Vale of Stars Book 2) Page 11

  Bastien moved from his throne to sit next to me on the top step. Conn cast a malicious look in our direction as he circled Madera. Razor moved in between me and Bastien. I flinched when the hound nuzzled my leg for attention. I patted his head. “He’s not a pretty beast.”

  “No.” Bastien stroked a heavy hand down the hound’s back. “But he is loyal. I find that much more important than the virtue of beauty.”

  Bastien was a complex individual. He appeared to be nothing more than an arrogant brigand, but he said things to contradict that façade. First and foremost, he was a beautiful Morgon man—square jaw, intelligent brow, prominent mouth, and aquiline nose, though his nose curved at the top from more than one break, the only mar to his handsome features. And his physique matched Conn’s. He was a lovely specimen of Morgon nobility, which reminded me that he once was. It also reminded me of the reason he was no longer living amongst the high and mighty of Morgon society.

  “I suppose you’re right,” I said. “But I would think injuries would make you more vulnerable living out here.”

  “No worries, darling. We have two healers, and they’re very good.”

  He nodded off to the left where the two Icewings were setting a table with platters of food. A cry from Conn ripped my attention back to the floor. Madera had somehow gotten a slice across his bicep. A superficial wound, but it made me cringe all the same.

  Madera circled him, a sinful smile in place.

  “She could’ve cut him deeper,” I said.

  Bastien chuckled. “She won’t. Madera prefers a little battle for foreplay. She won’t hurt him too badly if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  A sickening knot coiled in my stomach at the thought of her and Conn in bed together, at the thought of him between her legs doing what he did to me when I walked his dreams.

  “By the look on your face, I’d say that’s not what you’re truly worried about,” added Bastien in a way that insinuated more.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you two not lovers?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Mmm.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  Madera cried out as Conn managed to squeeze her into a choke-hold from behind, both of their weapons having clanged to the ground.

  “Yield!” he demanded.

  She gripped his forearm, but there was no way to pull him loose. He was too strong. Instead, she circled her pelvis, rubbing her ass against his crotch like a damn cat in heat. The move managed to shock Conn into pulling away, just enough for her to twist low and duck out of his hold. She spun away with a laugh and lifted her spear where she’d dropped it.

  “Now I really want to win,” she told him. “I want to see what you can do with that other weapon you’ve got there.”

  Conn laughed, and I wanted to punch him in the face. “Come and get me,” he taunted, leaving his sword on the ground.

  The bout continued. Madera attacking and Conn evading each slice of the spear through the air. Agile and lithe, he moved too quickly for a muscular man of his size. I tapped my foot nervously, needing him to win. So desperately. I couldn’t allow it to happen. Feeling the strain of anger and fear tightening every muscle in my body, I was ready and willing to demand we brave the wilds with Devil’s pack when Conn made a stunning move that swept Madera to the ground onto her belly. He was on top of her, sitting on her bottom, pinning her shoulder with one hand and clutching her wing with the other. Though I knew he’d never break her wing, he bent it back a certain way where she couldn’t move without damaging herself.

  “Yield!” he demanded.

  With her face sideways, she laughed and practically moaned with pleasure at being pinned by him. “Yield,” she agreed quietly.

  I leapt to my feet and applauded. I was actually shocked to see the rest of the crowd do the same, including Bastien now standing at my side.

  “Quite a warrior, your Rowanflame.”

  Conn released Madera and helped her to her feet.

  “He’s not mine.”

  “But he could be.”

  Frowning, I glanced his way. “How would you know?”

  He didn’t answer my question. Or at least, he didn’t seem to.

  “May I have the pleasure of your name?”

  “My name is Valla.”

  “Beautiful. Quite appropriate. Let me share something with you, Valla. A hard lesson I’ve learned.”

  I was riveted. This man was a walking contradiction. An aristocrat of the highest order, an outlaw, a murderer, a scoundrel to be sure, and quite the charming gentleman on top of all that.

  “Yes?” I encouraged him to go on.

  “If you want something…or someone”—he paused and glanced at Conn headed our way, scowling as usual—“then you better grab hold and take it while you can. Life doesn’t always give you a second chance.” He peered down at me, his gray-blue eyes sparking with the dragon he held in check. “Believe me. I should know.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “O ur intruders are now our guests,” said Bastien in a clear, booming voice as I approached from the fighting floor. “Let us eat!”

  Another round of cheers rose up as everyone adjourned to the table, long enough to accommodate every one of us. It looked as if it might’ve been the original left behind by the humans who once lived here.

  Valla waited with my undershirt and thermal suit in hand. She handed my shirt to me, her gaze roaming over my chest. “You might want to cover up.”

  I didn’t argue. She was in distress. And so was I. She denied what was so obviously meant to be. And I had to wait for her to come to the realization on her own. Otherwise, she’d run. The pain was acute torture, burning a hole in my gut.

  “What was Bastien telling you?”

  I couldn’t help but notice he held her in conversation during the entire fight. Rather than tell me, she shrugged and said, “Let’s go eat. I’m tired of protein bars for once.”

  “Thank the heavens.”

  Her slight smile eased the burn. Just a little.

  “Looks like you worked up an appetite out there.”

  “Not as much as I did last night in my dreams.”

  She winced but kept walking, a pink blush flushing her fair cheeks and neck. I wanted to make every pale inch of her flush with heat.

  “As my guests, please have a seat here.” Bastien’s voice broke through my wayward thoughts.

  Bowen sidled next to us, and we took the three chairs to Bastien’s left with our backs to the wall. Bowen sat directly next to Bastien, and I took the third chair, keeping Valla between us. The group might no longer appear hostile, but appearances could be deceiving. And though Valla could handle herself, my innate need to protect her would not relent. Rafe took the chair to the right of Bastien and one of the Sunstings with long blond hair sat next to him. The rest sat a little farther down, giving us space.

  The table was laden with a bounty of food—platters of roasted wild hog and an array of winter vegetables, including many greens. Bastien’s Bastards had learned to live quite well in this inhospitable land.

  “It appears you have a healthy sized garden here.”

  “We do,” said Bastien with pride. “The people of Pallatine left behind a greenhouse in the south courtyard. Of course, it needed extensive repairs after what the savages had done to this place.”

  “Savages?” Valla’s eyebrow arched, and my stomach clenched. She was going to say something rude any second now. “Are not you and your band savages as well?”

  Rather than anger the Silverback, her flippant remark made him laugh.

  “Not at all, darling. We may be outlaws, but we are quite civilized.”

  I restrained a growl at the way he spoke to her so intimately. But it appeared that was the way of this man.

  “May I have the names of your companions?” he asked her.

  “This is Conn, and this is Bowen.”

  “Well, t
hen, gentlemen. Though I see it will be difficult for you to relax, please do try. I am a man of my word. No harm will come to you. Isn’t that right, Rafe?”

  “Right, it is,” said the bear of a man who was obviously his most devoted warrior.

  I spooned a helping of boiled potatoes onto my plate and handed the server to Valla. “I will take your word for it, though I nearly lost an arm a few moments ago.”

  “Madera would never have hurt you permanently. She was simply trying to see what you were made of.”

  I glanced down the table at Madera where she sat with her two other Skyshadow clansmen. She winked and lifted her goblet to me.

  “It seems she was impressed,” said Bastien, drinking his own glass of mead.

  Valla bristled next to me. “Pass me a piece of that, will you?” She pointed at the platter of roast hog. More than happy to accommodate, I helped her fill her plate.

  One of the Icewings who’d been serving the table set another flagon of mead between Valla and Bastien. She pointed at my arm. “I can help you with that injury if you would like.”

  The slice of Madera’s blade still stung my upper bicep, but I was a stubborn bastard. “I’m fine. Thanks for the offer.”

  “Thank you, Lyla,” said Bastien.

  She didn’t argue, but joined her friends farther down the table.

  “You should let her heal you,” whispered Valla close to me.

  There was only one part of me that needed healing. And though I was aware I couldn’t make the aching burn in my gut disappear, I’d be damned if I went to bed without some succor. I fixed my gaze on Valla.

  Gesturing at her mouth, I said, “You have something right there.” I lifted my finger to her bottom lip. She had nothing at all on her mouth, but I wanted to touch her. Needed to touch her. I brushed my finger slowly over her full bottom lip, letting my intent flare bright in my gaze. “There,” I whispered. “All better.”

  She didn’t move for a few seconds. Her pupils dilated, and the distinct scent of desire called to me. With a carefree smile, I turned back to my meal. If teasing her into a pool of need would get me into her bed for even one minute, then I’d play naughty.

  Bowen piped up, having already devoured most his meal. That man could eat. “The exterior of the palace appears quite neglected. I take it you have kept it this way as a form of camouflage.”

  “Quite so,” agreed Bastien. “We stay well-hidden. For obvious reasons.”

  We didn’t need to state those reasons. It was known that most of those who lived in Aria were usually forced to do so. They were escaping something, or someone, back home.

  “Now that you know about our secret lair, I imagine it is your duty to report back to Morgon Guard Headquarters.”

  “It is,” I agreed. No need to lie to the man.

  Valla stiffened at my side. Rafe narrowed his gaze over his mug of ale.

  “Do as you wish,” said Bastien casually. “But we’ve known you were here from the moment you crossed Brilla’s Crag. The Guard will never capture us here.”

  “So you have scouts near the borders,” said Bowen.

  “We have friends everywhere in Aria. And we have more hiding places than this one.”

  “I’m curious,” said Valla, leaning back in her chair, her right wing brushing my arm before she snapped it tight. “How is it that a bunch of marauding outlaws have friends in Aria? I should think the residents would steer clear of you.”

  Bastien leaned forward with his elbows on the table, his goblet cupped between both hands, a charming smile in place that he must’ve used often in the world of the cut-throat Morgon aristocracy. “Well, now, Valla darling. You’re making assumptions that we steal from the Arians.”

  “Isn’t that what marauders do?”

  He laughed. “It is true we charge a toll from foreigners who decide to pass through our land.”

  “Your land? Aria belongs to you?” she asked.

  “Aria belongs to the Arians. We do not follow the laws of the Morgon world outside these borders. We follow our own laws. And we protect our own.”

  “Other criminals like yourselves,” Valla snapped.

  Bastien’s silver gaze brightened with his dragon rising to the surface. I slipped my hand under the table and clasped her knee. “Take it easy. Let’s not piss off our host who could toss us out with the wulvings.”

  The beast called Razor lifted his head from the hearth rug as if he knew what I said, glanced toward us, then settled and blinked his eyes closed again.

  “You need not fear, Rowanflame. We keep our word…unlike the rest of the world.” The glassy look of haunted memory passed over his countenance before he smiled at Valla. “But you are wrong about us. While it is true we aren’t the cleanest of characters, we are not all escaping a criminal past either. I’ll give you a few examples. Rafe Woodblade here…” He gestured to the bearded man with the thick neck and arms like tree trunks who had started the fires. “He was an orphan in the Woodblade clan down south and was sold to a slaver who trained him as a drakoros for a circuit of underground games.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Valla. “The drakoros fighters and the slave pits have been gone for decades.”

  Rafe took a swig of his ale. “Nay. They’re still alive and well.”

  “But slavery is illegal,” said Valla, her innocent observation somehow striking me to the heart.

  “It is,” agreed Bastien.

  Bowen stilled.

  “But it thrives in some places all the same,” said Rafe. “I, uh, took my leave one night about nine years ago after a fight in Drakos. I came here where no one would bother to come after me.”

  “But you had a good time in your escape, didn’t you, friend?” asked Bastien, grinning.

  “Aye,” Rafe replied with a grunt before tilting back his mug of ale.

  Apparently a tale for another time.

  “And take Sven.” He gestured to the man next to Rafe. “He and his two sisters there vacated their home just last year rather than follow their father’s orders in joining some radical party. And Madera, who you’ve met, well, she didn’t take kindly to her uncle crawling into her bed when she was a teenager so she cut his throat.”

  Madera glanced our way from her place next to the other Skyshadows, her expression sobering before she turned back to her friends. Bastien continued.

  “Her uncle was a high member of the Cloven Senate, and since he was her only guardian, she knew there would be no fair trial at the Tribunal. She decided to take her chance in Aria.”

  “She’s been living here since she was a teen? Little more than a child?” I asked.

  “Aye,” agreed Bastien. “Remarkable, isn’t she?”

  I only nodded in agreement. Valla seemed to bristle at the first mention of Madera, but now her gaze softened on the fierce warrior down the table, a frown creasing her brow. When she spoke, it was not with the stinging accusations as before. “And what about you, Bastien? Are you like them?”

  Icing over with the look of a man who’d gone through Hell and had crawled out to tell about it, he clenched his jaw and said nothing. I feared Valla had crossed a line, and we would finally see the violent nature this man was purported to possess. But I was surprised yet again.

  “I did not kill my family. But I will one day find the man or men who did. And it will be his last.” His tone was dark and gritty, the grave tenor of a man hard set on revenge. “My father had many political adversaries in the senate. It was known he was the most popular candidate for the upcoming election for Consul. It is my belief that one of the many opposing parties ordered the assassination.” Staring into the cup, he swirled his goblet. “It was widely known my father and I had had our differences. I wasn’t even in the same city when the murders took place. I received a comm text message from my little sister…” His expression hardened into adamant. There was a long pause where none of us spoke a word. “She said she heard Mother scream. Lara’s bedroom was close to my paren
ts’. I urged her to fly away immediately. She never replied to my comm message. And when I arrived back home only an hour later…well, you know the rest.”

  Valla shook her head vigorously. “Why—why didn’t you tell this to the Morgon Guard?”

  He scoffed. “You think the Morgon Guard is impervious to blackmail and bribery? They’d already been bought.”

  I flinched, knowing we had a mole in our midst at Nightwing Security in Gladium. One of our own had betrayed us, allowing Moira Nightwing, our captain’s mate, to be abducted by the Larkosians. Thankfully, we managed to get her back, but that was only due to the help of our own double agent, Gaius Woodblade, who’d infiltrated the Larkosian lair. He paid for his loyalty to us with his own life.

  “You’re right,” I said to Bastien. Valla snapped her head in my direction. “There are some who could be bought or blackmailed in the Guard.”

  Bastien nodded, leaning back in his chair, his silvery wings twitching at his back.

  “A man of reason.” He lifted his cup to me, his steely gaze losing its lethal edge from the memory of his murdered family. “Valla, darling. Someone wanted me to take the fall. And I did. An order of blade justice was put out on my head the moment the Guard stepped on the scene and saw me kneeling over my sister’s body. I could stay and die, or leave and live…and so here I am.”

  Conversation had died down. The laughter down the table had mellowed. Hearing Bastien’s story firsthand, I knew with every fiber in my being that he spoke the truth. The injustice of it pricked and stung. How many others had chosen a life of exile here in Aria just to avoid the powerful factions ruling the political parties in Drakos and Cloven? My mother had left their society long ago for the more peaceful life in Gladium where Morgons and humans were tolerant of one another, even harmonious. But my father was still there in the midst of it. The archaic ways of Morgon dominance and will ruled in the northern Morgon-only provinces. And it seemed the Senate was rife with corruption. The reality chafed.