The Dragon Mistress: Book 4 (PAPERBACK, LGBT)

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“IT’S TOO DANGEROUS, Frella.” A heavy frown marred Eldris’ dark brow as he stared me down from across the campfire.

He was pacing. I was sitting—my back resting against a hunk of driftwood. The length of bleached tree trunk was one of the few pieces of wood that hadn’t yet been carted off to provide fuel for the larger bonfire, located near a temporary shelter the others had erected to give our two weakened and injured dragons some protection from the weather.

The pair of great beasts had swum through cold ocean waters to get here, after the male flew away to rescue his mate. She’d been shot down with her rider as we tried to flee the continent for the safety of my island home. The white dragon had turned back shortly after our arrival. Somehow, he’d managed to find the red dragon floundering in the sea. He’d plunged into the water with her, supporting her with his body during the arduous swim back to Eburos.

Eldris was the first to speak up after I outlined my plan to treat Shantha’s wounded haunch, where an Utrean dragon harpoon still protruded obscenely from her ruby-scaled flesh. Somewhat to my surprise, Nyx was the second to object.

“You can’t take the risk,” he said in his quiet voice. “She’s frightened and in pain, and Aristede isn’t here to calm her. She could kill you, and then what would happen to the white dragon? He’s still unbonded, and he’s only ever shown an affinity for you.”

I had to give Nyx points for appealing to my concern for the white dragon, rather than my concern for my own safety. As the only remaining male in existence, the future of dragonkind rested on the creature’s pearlescent wings. That, however, was exactly the point. I drew breath to argue; only to have Rayth beat me to it.

“That’s why she’s suggesting it,” he said gruffly. “She’s the only one with any kind of relationship of trust with Aristede’s dragon, who isn’t also soul-bound.”

“Exactly,” I agreed, still taken aback by the relatively new phenomenon of Rayth not acting like an asshole. “If someone from Eburos tries to take the harpoon out of her, they’ll get roasted for sure. Shantha doesn’t know any of them. They’re complete strangers. If one of you tries it and gets killed, you’ll take a dragon with you when you die. Shantha knows me, but if something goes wrong, it’ll only be me that gets sent to the afterlife.”

“There’s no ‘only’ about you, Frella,” Eldris said, sounding frustrated.

“He’s right,” Nyx agreed.

“So… what, then? You want to try ignoring the fact that there’s a hunk of metal embedded in her hindquarters?” I shot back. “She’ll die, and so will Aristede, wherever he is.”

It was a low blow, and I saw Eldris attempting to cover a flinch.

My brother Favian had joined us around the fire for our informal council of war, and was watching the rapid exchange of Utrean like someone trying to follow a fast-paced sporting contest.

“Would someone like to translate whatever it is you’re fighting over into Eburosi or Alyrion, please?” he asked.
Rayth hadn’t budged from his exhausted slouch on my right, but he took pity on my sibling and addressed him in Alyrion. “Your sister is proposing something brave but perilous.”

“Ah,” Favian said, adopting what I liked to call his ‘wise priest’ expression. “Yes, she does tend to do that sort of thing.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes at him… but only just. “I’m going to take the harpoon out and treat the dragon’s wound,” I told him. “She knows me, I have some medical experience with dragons, and if she fries me, I won’t take another dragon with me when I go.”

My brother eyed me in evident consternation. “Erm… is she likely to fry you?”

I shrugged. “You’re the one with the second sight, big brother—not me. But I did an awful lot of poking and prodding at Nyx’s dragon when she broke her wing, and I’m still here.”

He nodded slowly, looking unhappy. “It still sounds dangerous.”

“Says the person who once thought that standing on the back of a galloping chariot team for a dare was a good idea,” I retorted in a sour tone.

Favian raised an eyebrow. “Hey, now. It might have been stupid when I did it in Draebard as a kid, but that particular circus act kept a roof over our heads and food in our bellies when Kath, Ithric, and I first came to Rhyth.”

“And this will potentially keep one of the men I love from dying, by saving the dragon he’s bound to,” I pointed out.
My brother’s forehead furrowed, but I saw in his eyes that I had won the argument.

“Right. Well, I doubt there’s anyone here who hasn’t done foolhardy things for love,” he said. “Which doesn’t precisely make me happy about the idea.”

“You’d be right about your assessment of the people here,” I agreed. “And, yeah—I know it doesn’t.” Clapping my hands briskly, I turned to the others and switched back to Utrean. “So, even my overprotective big brother understands that this is going to happen whether you all like it or not,” I told them. “Which means I’ll be needing plenty of hot water, clean linen to use for compresses, and the makings for an herbal poultice. Now… let’s get this party started, shall we?”

* * *

The harpoon piercing Shantha’s haunches was made of an iron rod perhaps the length of my extended hand and forearm, which had originally been attached to a longer wooden shaft. The back part of the shaft had snapped off at some point during Shantha’s perilous swim across the Southern Sea, leaving a jagged, splintery stub protruding from the wound.

I hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the deadly projectiles flying past our heads to guess at whether or not the harpoon point was barbed—but if so, it wouldn’t surprise me. Dragons were tough beasts, hard to kill. It would only make sense to design the weapons used against them in such a way that they did as much damage coming out as going in. At this point, however, there wasn’t much for it other than to pull the harpoon out and hope for the best. Shantha had already jostled the vile thing so much that it had widened the original wound into a jagged mess.

The others hovered beyond the range of Shantha’s fiery breath, wearing unanimously unhappy expressions. With everything I would need in place, I approached the pair of damp, exhausted dragons curled together in the shelter of the hastily erected windbreak. The white dragon raised his wedge shaped head, one aquamarine eye landing on me. For the first time, I didn’t shrink from meeting that unfathomable gaze.

After I’d foolishly jumped on his back to escape our enemies—without benefit of either a saddle or a soul-bond—I’d been devastated when he’d dumped me unceremoniously on the ground and flown off only moments after we’d reached the safety of the island where I’d grown up. I had feared, as had the others, that he would return to his homeland of Utrea, only to be met by the same weapons that had felled Shantha mid-flight.

Instead, the male had gone to search for his injured mate, and brought her back. The pair had collapsed on the beach at the base of the cliffs, suffering from dangerous levels of exhaustion and chill. I only wished the white dragon had been able to rescue Aristede—Shantha’s rider—from the waves as well. Nevertheless, the fact that Shantha still lived meant that her soul bond with Aristede had survived—and so had he.
Somewhere… somehow… the man we all loved was alive. But to keep him that way, I would need to successfully treat Shantha’s injury.

I approached the pair of great beasts, never looking away from the white dragon’s gemlike eye. “I’m sorry I doubted you,” I told him. “Thank you for saving your mate. For saving our mates. Now I have to get the harpoon out, so I can try to help Shantha the same way I helped Lisha when she broke her wing. I don’t mean her any harm, but it’s going to hurt.”

And she may well kill me, I didn’t add aloud.

Was I ready to die? I didn’t feel ready, especially now that I knew Aristede was alive out there, waiting for us to come rescue him. I was still going to do this, though. Saving Shantha was more important than my fear for my own life. The white dragon must have felt the same way when he flapped off to return to her and help her reach the shore. They might both have drowned, or perished of cold before they reached the island.

My focus wavered oddly, and I stumbled. The white dragon’s eye suddenly seemed impossibly large, swallowing up the world. I gasped, going to one knee, unable to look away from that bottomless pool of blue. I couldn’t even blink. Behind me, the startled exclamations of the others might as well have been the buzzing of distant insects.

Mine, said a presence that somehow needed no words to convey an overwhelming sense of belonging and inevitability.

Hands grabbed at my arms from either side, steadying me. I still couldn’t tear my eyes from the dragon’s gaze.
Mates, said the wordless voice. Yours.

My jaw was hanging open, I was certain. The buzzing voices were closer now, right by my ears—but whatever they were saying was just meaningless noise. Inside my mind, something settled heavily into place. The presence felt too large for the available space in my head, but then it slotted seamlessly into my consciousness. Between one instant and the next, it was as though it had always been there.

“Ezodi,” I breathed, hanging in the grip of strong arms.

“Frella!” This time, I recognized my name. I also recognized the voice calling it—Eldris. I couldn’t remember ever hearing him sound quite like that before.

“She’s bonded. The male bonded with her!” said a different voice, from a few steps away. Nyx.

“Better late than never,” muttered another voice. Rayth.
New hands closed around my upper arms, and my brother’s worried blue eyes blocked my view of the white dragon. My dragon.