not also a woman? A person? A living, breathing, feeling entity as well? And what
about her dream—the treasure?
Vanya rubbed her slender palms over her face and tried to clear her mind.
Who was this dark, fire-breathing dragon? And why wasn’t she qualified to discern
the truth of his embittered soul on her own? The more she thought about it, the idea
of him reclining on a stiff, narrow cot in an ancient, barren cell, less than a mile
away, the more she felt drawn to see for herself.
She didn’t need to be a vampire to cloak her appearance, to move as the mist through
a dark, tree-filled forest; she had centuries of magic in her repertoire. She was
an original female, the daughter of King Sakarias and Queen Jade, descended from a
long line of celestial gods and humans—the goddess Cygnus and her human mate Mateo,
to be exact—and her powers were formidable. Especially since she had been honing them
at the Romanian University.
Swallowing hard to suppress her fear, Vanya summoned her determination as well as
her courage: Yes, she would enter the dragon’s lair on her own; she would remain quiet
as a mouse and equally unobtrusive; and she would see for herself what the Serpens
Blood Moon was all about. She would look the devil in the eyes and measure the full
blackness of his soul. And she didn’t need her king, or her sister, or her brother-in-law,
or the house of Jadon’s keepers to assist her.
Vanya Demir created a holographic double of her body. She left the double in the guest
bed; slipped through the wall like a ghostly apparition; and made her way down the
long, narrow hall, with its dimly lit sconces and outrageously expensive carpets,
headed for the Chamber of Sacrifice and Atonement, for Saber Alexiares’s holding cell.
Before she opened the heavy outer door, she conjured a simple but powerful sleeping
spell, the equivalent of sprinkling celestial slumbering dust around and about the
bodies of Saber’s guards, Ramsey and Saxson Olaru; and the two sentinels were instantly
sleeping deeply, long before they had a chance to notice her entry. In fact, Ramsey
had fallen asleep so quickly, he was still sitting upright in his comfortable chair,
still facing the cell from his vigilant position.
It was late, around eleven forty-five at night, and to Vanya’s absolute relief, the
fire-breathing dragon was sleeping soundly as well—at least he appeared to be sleeping
soundly. As her ethereal form began to take more substantive shape, she tiptoed cautiously
toward the horizontal cot, ever so careful not to wake the sleeping vampire, and then
she peered curiously at his prone form.
The Dark One was lying on his back, partially turned on his left side, with his left
arm bent at the elbow and stretched in such a way that he could cradle his own head.
He wasn’t chained, either to the wall or the bed, but there were enough diamonds embedded
in the stone walls and the floors to keep him restrained without the use of additional
manacles. Not to mention, he appeared to be substantially weakened, as one who was
missing an extensive amount of life-force or chi. Clearly, the warriors were keeping
him drained of vital blood, denying him much needed sustenance. Vanya grimaced—what
an awful state of affairs. How sad that such dire measures were clearly necessary.
As she bent to take her first true look at his face, her breath caught in her throat:
The sight of the male was jarring, intimidating, in many ways, yet deeply stirring
to her own blood and soul. Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and she swallowed convulsively.
Saber’s hair was thick and wavy, almost unruly in its mass, and it hung just to his
shoulders, as far as she could tell from that angle. And the unnatural highlights—the
dense, unmistakable red bands woven throughout the raven tresses—were positively unsettling. Dear gods , he looked just like a Dark One, just like a cursed male
about her dream—the treasure?
Vanya rubbed her slender palms over her face and tried to clear her mind.
Who was this dark, fire-breathing dragon? And why wasn’t she qualified to discern
the truth of his embittered soul on her own? The more she thought about it, the idea
of him reclining on a stiff, narrow cot in an ancient, barren cell, less than a mile
away, the more she felt drawn to see for herself.
She didn’t need to be a vampire to cloak her appearance, to move as the mist through
a dark, tree-filled forest; she had centuries of magic in her repertoire. She was
an original female, the daughter of King Sakarias and Queen Jade, descended from a
long line of celestial gods and humans—the goddess Cygnus and her human mate Mateo,
to be exact—and her powers were formidable. Especially since she had been honing them
at the Romanian University.
Swallowing hard to suppress her fear, Vanya summoned her determination as well as
her courage: Yes, she would enter the dragon’s lair on her own; she would remain quiet
as a mouse and equally unobtrusive; and she would see for herself what the Serpens
Blood Moon was all about. She would look the devil in the eyes and measure the full
blackness of his soul. And she didn’t need her king, or her sister, or her brother-in-law,
or the house of Jadon’s keepers to assist her.
Vanya Demir created a holographic double of her body. She left the double in the guest
bed; slipped through the wall like a ghostly apparition; and made her way down the
long, narrow hall, with its dimly lit sconces and outrageously expensive carpets,
headed for the Chamber of Sacrifice and Atonement, for Saber Alexiares’s holding cell.
Before she opened the heavy outer door, she conjured a simple but powerful sleeping
spell, the equivalent of sprinkling celestial slumbering dust around and about the
bodies of Saber’s guards, Ramsey and Saxson Olaru; and the two sentinels were instantly
sleeping deeply, long before they had a chance to notice her entry. In fact, Ramsey
had fallen asleep so quickly, he was still sitting upright in his comfortable chair,
still facing the cell from his vigilant position.
It was late, around eleven forty-five at night, and to Vanya’s absolute relief, the
fire-breathing dragon was sleeping soundly as well—at least he appeared to be sleeping
soundly. As her ethereal form began to take more substantive shape, she tiptoed cautiously
toward the horizontal cot, ever so careful not to wake the sleeping vampire, and then
she peered curiously at his prone form.
The Dark One was lying on his back, partially turned on his left side, with his left
arm bent at the elbow and stretched in such a way that he could cradle his own head.
He wasn’t chained, either to the wall or the bed, but there were enough diamonds embedded
in the stone walls and the floors to keep him restrained without the use of additional
manacles. Not to mention, he appeared to be substantially weakened, as one who was
missing an extensive amount of life-force or chi. Clearly, the warriors were keeping
him drained of vital blood, denying him much needed sustenance. Vanya grimaced—what
an awful state of affairs. How sad that such dire measures were clearly necessary.
As she bent to take her first true look at his face, her breath caught in her throat:
The sight of the male was jarring, intimidating, in many ways, yet deeply stirring
to her own blood and soul. Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and she swallowed convulsively.
Saber’s hair was thick and wavy, almost unruly in its mass, and it hung just to his
shoulders, as far as she could tell from that angle. And the unnatural highlights—the
dense, unmistakable red bands woven throughout the raven tresses—were positively unsettling. Dear gods , he looked just like a Dark One, just like a cursed male
Similar Books
