Eight Simple Rules for Dating a Dragon--A Novel of the Embraced

  But his sudden desire to bed her had given her such a shock that all her doubts had come crashing back. How could she become the lover of a man who might not be a man?

  The room spun around her for a few seconds, and she hugged the bedpost to keep her balance. Then a pain shot across her brow, reminding her that the poison was still in her body. She glanced at the pink area on her forearm. The verna leaves she had placed there had washed away in the rushing stream. She ought to get dressed and fetch more leaves from the garden, but she felt too drained right now to do any more work.

  With a groan, she crawled into bed. As she lay her head on a pillow, she realized this was where Silas had rested last night. She nuzzled her nose against the linen, hoping to catch a whiff of the cedar-scented soap he used.

  You’re hopeless. She rolled onto her back and stared at the red velvet canopy overhead. How could she long for him when she wasn’t sure who or what he was? How could she yearn for him when she was never sure if he was being completely honest with her?

  If only her sisters were here. They would listen to her, comfort her. The Song of Mourning came to her mind, the rhythm pounding in time with the throbbing pain in her head.

  My true love lies in the ocean blue. My true love sleeps in the sea. Whenever the moons shine over you, please remember me.

  My lonesome heart is torn in two. My grief runs deep as the sea. Whenever the waves roll over you, please remember me. Please remember me.

  Tears burned her eyes. Oh, how she missed her sisters! What would they say if she told them she suspected Silas and Puff were one and the same?

  As the oldest and most responsible, Luciana would warn her to proceed with caution. Trust no one but herself.

  Brigitta would tell her to throw caution out the window and follow her heart. Gwennore smiled to herself, imagining Brigitta turning Silas into a dashing hero in one of her dramatic stories.

  Maeve would find her suspicions wildly exciting. After all, she shifted into a seal every month. And she was very fond of Brody when he was in the guise of a dog. She’d have no trouble believing Silas could be a shifter.

  But a dragon shifter? How could that be possible? Dragons were so much bigger than humans. And they could breathe fire. When Silas had first kissed her, Gwennore had panicked for a moment, remembering the burst of fire that Puff had used at the lake to force the trolls to retreat.

  That would be Sorcha’s reaction, too. Gwennore could imagine her sister fussing at her. “You think he’s a fire-breathing dragon and you kissed him? Are you crazy? He could have set your innards ablaze!”

  She had felt inflamed, but in an entirely different way. Gwennore covered her face as heat rushed to her cheeks. Why had she kissed him when she’d been afraid it wasn’t safe?

  Afterward, she’d blamed it on curiosity, or on a need to prove he was human. But the truth had been very simple.

  She’d wanted her first kiss to be from Silas.

  A tear rolled down her cheek, and she angrily brushed it away. The relationship couldn’t happen. He was heir to the throne, and no one in Norveshka would ever accept an elf for their queen. She wasn’t being a coward. She was simply being realistic. It was best for her to leave as soon as possible.

  That was the only way to protect her heart. For she had no doubt that if she stayed here an entire month, she would fall completely and irrevocably in love with him. Indeed, she feared the fall had already begun, for she still longed for him, even when she didn’t know the truth about him.

  If Silas was actually a dragon, did that mean his brother, the king, was one, too? Were Dimitri and Aleksi dragons? Was that what happened to the descendants from the Three Cursed Clans?

  Gwennore shook her head. She was letting her imagination run amok. Sorcha was Silas’s sister, which meant she was also a member of the Dravenko clan, and she certainly wasn’t able to shift into a dragon.

  Silas had to be human. Gwennore took a deep breath. He was human. Completely human.

  She groaned. No matter how many times she repeated it to herself, the doubt refused to fade away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  About an hour later, Gwennore was woken from a light sleep by a knock at the door.

  Margosha peeked inside. “Are you hungry? I brought some food.”

  “Oh, thank you.” When Gwennore sat up, the room swirled for a second, and she rubbed her brow. At least the pain in her head had subsided a little.

  Margosha entered the bedchamber, carrying a basket. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be feeling well, so I asked Annika to join us. She arrived just a few minutes ago.”

  A young woman followed Margosha through the door, her hands filled with another basket and a leather satchel.

  Gwennore watched her curiously. So this was the trustworthy army physician Silas had said would help. She was pretty with her tall and slender form and her red hair and green eyes. In fact, she looked so much like Sorcha that Gwen felt a pang of homesickness.

  But this was not Sorcha. Annika was dressed in an army uniform, much like the ones Silas and his officers wore. And she’d been ordered to come here. Gwennore winced inwardly. No doubt, this Annika would be reluctant to help an elf when most of her patients in the army had received their wounds from elves.

  Gwennore gave her a hesitant smile as she introduced herself. “Thank you for coming.” She slipped out of bed and tucked her loose hair behind her ears. “I’m afraid I’m not properly dressed.”

  Annika shrugged. “Neither am I, by court standards. The ladies have been scandalized by my breeches.”

  “They look comfortable to me,” Gwennore said.

  Annika smiled. “They are. I hope you don’t mind us invading your room to have a meal.” She motioned with her head to the large picnic basket she held in one hand.

  “Not at all.” Gwennore watched as the young woman and Margosha set down their things in front of the hearth. Then they pushed back the table and chairs to make room for the three of them on the carpet in front of the fire.

  Annika sat cross-legged on the floor and proceeded to empty the baskets. “They’re finishing up the midday meal in the Great Hall, but I didn’t want to eat there.”

  “Why not?” Gwennore sat beside her.

  “She’s avoiding someone,” Margosha whispered, then grinned when Annika shot her an annoyed look.

  Most probably a man, Gwennore thought, then her breath caught. No, don’t let it be Silas. She cleared her throat. “Are you referring to the general?”

  Annika snorted. “Of course not.”

  Thank the goddesses. But Gwennore’s sense of relief was rapidly followed by annoyance. How foolish of her to feel possessive when Silas could never be hers.

  Annika’s mouth twitched. “Were you worried?”

  “No, not at all,” Gwennore said. Blast. The warmth in her cheeks was giving her away, and that made her blush even more.

  Margosha chuckled. “Annika, why don’t you look at her injury? She looks a bit feverish to me.”

  “It’s not that bad—” Gwennore paused when Annika grabbed her arm and inspected the inflamed area. “I can treat it myself. I just need some more verna leaves—”

  “I have some.” Annika opened her leather satchel and removed a clay jar and linen bandage. She smeared some green paste from the jar onto the pink skin, then wrapped the bandage around it. “I make it myself. Ground verna leaves with honey.”

  “Oh.” Gwennore was impressed. “That’s very clever.”

  Annika smiled as she tied off the bandage. “I don’t usually treat a poisoning. Most of my patients are wounded in battle, but the paste helps them to heal.”

  Gwennore nodded. “The wounds you treat are caused by elves.”

  Annika’s smile faded as she lifted her gaze to Gwennore’s face. “You think I’ll hold that against you?”

  “I’ll understand if you’re reluctant to work with me.”

  Annika placed her hand on Gwennore’s. “You volunteered to help us be ri
d of the curse. I want the same thing, so I’m grateful that you’re here.”

  Gwennore’s heart softened. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you.” Annika squeezed Gwennore’s hand, then let go. “Besides, Aleksi told me all about you. How you grew up on the Isle of Moon with the queens of Eberon and Tourin as your adopted sisters. How you hitched a ride with a dragon to save the Eberoni princess. How the general pulled a sneaky maneuver to make you stay, but then you bravely offered to do it. Aleksi thinks very highly of you.”

  Embarrassed, Gwennore turned her attention to filling her plate with food. “Aleksi talks too much.”

  “That’s true.” Annika snickered as she put away the clay jar. “He even said you were calling a certain someone General Gorgeous.”

  Gwennore winced. “I should clobber Aleksi.”

  “Don’t worry.” Annika opened a bottle of wine. “I punched him for you.”

  Gwennore’s mouth twitched. She couldn’t help but like Annika. “Thank you.”

  “Aleksi mentioned something else.” Annika filled three cups. “He thought you and Silas might be having an affair.”

  Gwennore waved a hand. “Tha-that’s not true.”

  “Silas is only pretending to have an affair, so he can explain her presence here,” Margosha said as she loaded her plate with food.

  Gwennore gulped down some wine. “I’m going to tell everyone that it’s over.”

  “What?” Annika’s eyes widened. “Why? You don’t believe in the curse, do you?”

  Gwennore shook her head. “No.”

  Annika bit into a crusty roll and chewed while she considered. “Then it must be that you don’t care for him.”

  Gwennore paused with a bite of cheese halfway to her mouth. Memories of their embrace came rushing back, the feel of his hands on her breast, her hips, her buttocks. The heat of his mouth on hers.

  Annika leaned closer to peer at her. “You’re blushing again. I think you do like him.”

  Gwennore set the cheese down. “Surely you must know that a relationship between the general and myself is impossible. No one will accept me here.”

  Annika scoffed. “I do.”

  “Me, too,” Margosha added.

  Gwennore’s heart squeezed. “That’s very kind of you, but you’re only two out of an entire country.”

  “If you can get rid of the curse, the entire country will love you,” Annika declared.

  Gwennore’s mouth fell open. Could that be true?

  Annika bit into a slice of ham. “I know I would be eternally grateful. The minute the curse is gone, I’m jumping that man’s bones.”

  “What?” Margosha laughed.

  “I’m serious,” Annika said with her mouth full.

  Margosha shook her head. “I must be getting old. What happened to the style of courtship where the man did the pursuing?”

  Annika waved a dismissive hand. “That might happen here at court, but at camp, it’s entirely different. Women make up one-fourth of the army now, and since many of them are infertile, they aren’t worried about getting pregnant.”

  “So they’re … jumping men’s bones, as you put it?” Gwennore asked.

  Annika nodded, her eyes twinkling. “If we want a man, we go after him.” She made a fist. “And we capture him.”

  Margosha pressed a hand to her chest. “Such behavior.”

  Annika shrugged. “Why shouldn’t we take charge of our own destinies? Besides, men can be too slow sometimes.”

  “Or too fast,” Gwennore muttered.

  Annika gave her a curious look. “Don’t tell me Silas tried to jump your bones.”

  Gwennore drank from her cup to avoid answering.

  With a snort, Annika popped a slice of apple in her mouth.

  Margosha shook her head. “I don’t think this new method of yours is working. Not when you have to eat here in order to avoid you-know-who.”

  Annika frowned. “What can I do? The silly man believes in the curse, so he keeps telling me to get lost.”

  “The man you want to capture is eating in the Great Hall?” Gwennore asked.

  Annika nodded. “He lost his first wife and infant son six years ago, and he thinks the curse is responsible.”

  Then he had to be from one of the Three Cursed Clans, Gwennore thought. It couldn’t be Aleksi, since he wasn’t avoiding Annika. “Are you talking about Dimitri?”

  “That obvious, huh?” Annika gave her a wry look, then heaved a sigh. “When I joined the army a year ago, I saw him for the first time and right away, I knew he was the man for me. But he keeps rejecting me.”

  Margosha refilled their cups. “Maybe he hasn’t recovered yet from the loss of his wife and child.”

  “I thought that, too, but I wanted him to know that he was still loved. So I confessed.” Annika made a face. “And then he tried to chase me away with all that rubbish about the curse.”

  Margosha shook her head. “If he’s not interested, you can’t—”

  “Then why did he kiss me?” Annika cried.

  With a gasp, Gwennore turned toward the young woman. “He kissed you?”

  Annika nodded. “About six months ago. He came into my tent drunk, hauled me to my feet, and kissed me senseless. Then he passed out, so I let him sleep on my pallet.” She clenched a fist. “I should have lied the next morning and told him we’d made love, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And now he’s avoiding me like the plague.”

  “So he really does want you,” Gwennore said softly.

  Tears glimmered in Annika’s eyes. “That’s what I think, too. But he’s going to ignore me until we can get rid of the curse.”

  Gwennore squeezed her hand. “We’ll do it.”

  Annika smiled. “I knew I would like you.”

  Gwennore returned the smile. It looked like she wasn’t alone here, after all. Margosha was looking out for her, much like Mother Ginessa would. And Annika—“You remind me of one of my adopted sisters. Sorcha.”

  Annika laughed. “I should. She’s my cousin.”

  “What?” Gwennore’s mouth dropped open. “Then you’re—”

  “Cousin to Silas and His Majesty, King Petras.” Annika ate another apple slice. “My mother and the late queen were sisters, but they didn’t come from one of the Three Cursed Clans. My father didn’t, either, so the curse doesn’t apply to me. But it would to Sorcha.”

  Gwennore took a closer look at Annika. “You do look quite a bit like her.”

  Annika tilted her head, studying Gwennore. “There’s something different about you. I can’t figure out what, but you don’t look quite like the other elves I’ve seen.”

  Gwennore shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met another elf.”

  “Well, the ones I’ve seen are all male, so maybe the females just look a bit different.” Annika’s eyes narrowed. “I think your ears are smaller.”

  “Women usually do have smaller ears,” Margosha pointed out.

  Annika nodded. “That must be it. Did you know they don’t all have white-blond hair like you?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Gwennore admitted.

  “The wood elves tend to have brown or red hair, while the river elves from the mountains have white hair,” Annika continued. “The royal family has hair like yours. Do you know who your parents are?”

  Gwennore shook her head. “I have no idea. You actually know more about the elves than I do.”

  “Enough with the gossip,” Margosha announced. “We need to get to work, since Gwennore is leaving in a month.”

  Gwennore winced. “I just told Silas I wanted to leave in a week.”

  “What?” Annika gave her an incredulous look. “The curse has been going on for five hundred years, and you think you can figure it out in a week?”

  “Well, I—” Gwennore hesitated.

  Annika’s eyes narrowed. “Is this because he jumped your bones?”

  “I’m not comfortable with him right now,” Gwennore admitted.


  “Then work with us,” Margosha insisted. “The three of us can do it. I want to see the queen get better. I want there to be children in our country again.”

  Annika nodded. “We want our country to have a future.” She ducked her head. “And I want a future with Dimitri.”

  Gwennore rested a hand on Annika’s shoulder. “I’m going to try my best.”

  “But for only a week?” Annika gave her an injured look.

  “It might not take as long as you think,” Gwennore said. “The only reason the curse has lasted this long is because no one has ever tried to be rid of it before.”

  “Here’s to us, then.” Margosha lifted her cup.

  “The three of us.” Annika lifted hers. “We can do it.”

  Gwennore clinked her cup against theirs. “Death to the curse.”

  * * *

  “I’ve been hearing a rumor that people are disappearing,” Silas told Karlan in the captain’s office. “What can you tell me about it?”

  With a sigh, the captain of the king’s personal guard took a seat behind his desk. “There are too many courtiers with nothing to do but gossip.”

  Silas moved his chair closer to the desk. “From what I heard, the people go missing after they talk about the queen’s illness.”

  Karlan winced. “You know how devoted His Majesty is to his wife. He’s desperate to keep her from harming herself.”

  “I understand that.” A flash of memory pricked at Silas. The devastation of a six-year-old boy learning that his mother had thrown herself off the bridge in Dreshka. He would have done anything to stop her, anything to convince her to live.

  Or maybe not. He doubted he could ever kidnap children like his brother was doing. Knowing that the children were now in loving homes didn’t do much to lessen the guilt Silas felt. There had been too many kidnappings that he had failed to stop. And now he was worried that his brother might be doing something even worse. “Karlan, I trust you more than anyone else at court. Please tell me what’s happening.”

  Karlan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “All right. Two noblemen requested an audience with the king, so they could tell him that the queen was too mentally unstable to keep her office. They petitioned His Majesty to divorce her and remarry.”