The Dragon and the Dreamwalker (Elemental Series) (9 page)

“Really.” Drake smiled and took another swig of ale. This conversation was getting more interesting by the moment. He couldn’t help but admire the feisty wench for her creative plan of action. Too bad she hadn’t been wise enough to deflower herself along with the villagers. If so, mayhap she’d never have been tied to the stake at all.

He couldn’t wait to see how creative she’d be when they consummated their marriage. He liked the fact she was still a virgin. Just like any other nobleman, Drake wanted his bride to be untouched and untried. He wanted to claim her as his own, with no other man having had the experience of seeing her naked while lying between her legs.

“I’m sorry, Hermod, but she’ll be of no use to you after today anyway. You see, we’re getting married this morning.”

The two Elders with downcast eyes looked up at this comment. They looked first at Drake and then over to their leader as if waiting for a command.

“So my messenger relayed,” said Hermod. “But I refused to believe it until I heard it for myself.”

“Is it so hard to believe such a lovely girl could be getting married?” In his own mind he knew it was, considering Brynn’s attitude, not to mention her cunning and attacks with hot knives.

“You should not marry her, my lord. No one should. ’Tis a warning handed down through generations. No man can couple with the woman of fire without being doomed. Doomed unless he, himself, can stop the dragon from coming.”

“I fear not old wives tales. Nor am I afraid of a woman who can escape being burned by fire.”

“She’s a witch!” Hermod spat. The other two men nodded their heads in agreement. “She needs to be stopped. This is the only way to do it.”

“Stopped? Stopped from doing what? Catching bed linens on fire? I fail to see that she is a threat to anyone.”

“She’ll be the cause of your demise, Lord Dunsbard, mark my words. Do not couple with her. Do not go anywhere near her if you value your life. Turn her over to us so we can dispose of her at the jaws of Dracus.”

“That’s enough!” Drake waved over Walden, one of his soldiers, who was standing by the door. “Take these men away and give the sentries my order that they’re not to be admitted beyond the gates again.”

Walden guided the Elders to the exit, and Hermod looked back over his shoulder.

“You will regret this, Lord Dunsbard. You will regret ever saving the witch from Dracus. You are doomed! Doomed, I say.”

Drake finished his ale and slammed the tankard down on the table. He had a feeling stirring deep within him that was only made worse by Hermod’s intentions of killing Brynn. He cared for her, and more than for his own needs. But damn, if Hermod’s words didn’t strike a note of concern within him. For some reason, he couldn’t help but believe his life would be challenged because of Brynn.

 

It wasn’t long before Brynn heard the chambermaid enter the room. Through the open door she saw Asad leaving and a guard taking his place. Didn’t they know a guard couldn’t stop her? She’d been out and about the castle last night and no one was aware, since her body never left the chair.

Drake seemed flustered this morning and she knew why. He was so alert even in his sleep, that he’d known when she’d
dreamwalked
and followed her in the same manner. He was an exceptional man to be able to do this at will on the first try. He intrigued her in his spirit form. He aggravated her while in the physical.

“Lady Brynn?”

Brynn looked up to see her old friend and chambermaid standing in the doorway.

“Birdie!” She called out to the girl and ran to greet her. Birdie stepped inside the room, quickly closing the door behind her. They embraced each other in a hug of friendship.

“I thought you’d died with the rest when the castle was attacked. Let me look at you, are you all right?”

Birdie stood before her with a huge smile on her face for such a small woman. She was petite and chipper, not more than six and ten years of age. Her eyes twinkled and there was song in her voice. She had always reminded Brynn of a bird. While her true name was Bertha, Brynn had given her the name of Birdie.

“I managed to hide in the well to stay out of danger when the castle was under siege,” she told her. “But I was discovered the next day when the lord’s squire lowered the bucket for a cool drink.”

“How about the rest?” asked Brynn. “How many were killed? Who is left?”

Birdie lowered her head and Brynn couldn’t help but see the tears in her eyes. “There weren’t many who survived. Most the kitchen help is still here, but between those who were killed and the ones who escaped, the castle has mostly new occupants. The soldiers who survived pledged their allegiance to Lord Dunsbard rather than to be imprisoned. Even Rowley, the falconer. But he hates Lord Dunsbard for killing his son.”

“Oh!” Brynn clasped her hand to her mouth. Rowley’s son wasn’t much more than a child. What kind of beast would kill a boy?

“And your parents, Lady Brynn. Your parents …” Birdie clasped a hand to her own mouth, tears flowing from her eyes. Brynn pulled the girl into her arms to comfort her.

“I know, I know,” she said in a soft voice. Tears welled in her own eyes at the thought.

“I’m so afraid of him, my lady.” Birdie pulled back and wiped the tears with the back of her hand. “I do what he commands in order not to be punished or killed, but if I could, I’d run far from here.”

“Birdie, you mustn’t. ’Tis not safe for a young girl to be out there on her own.”

“Not any more dangerous then staying here. I am so afraid for you, my lady. Having to marry such a beast!”

Brynn straightened her stance and brushed off the tunic she was wearing. Drake’s tunic. His scent clung to it, only reminding her of the kiss he gave her on the
dreamwalking
plane last night. She felt like a traitor marrying the man responsible for all this trouble. But deep down, she knew what Juturna said was true. He didn’t kill her parents. And she sincerely doubted he killed women or children. She just felt in her heart he wasn’t this way.

“I’m not afraid of him, Birdie. And though he has a horrid reputation, I don’t believe he’s responsible for the lives he has been accused of taking.”

“How do you know this? Did he tell you?”

“Nay,” she answered, pondering the fact that Drake hadn’t told her much about that night at all. “It’s just something I feel.”

“Either way, you’ve got to leave here, my lady. I will help pack your things at once.”

“No, Birdie. I will stay. I will marry the man as he has commanded me to do.”

Birdie’s eyes popped open, the look of fear evident, her body stiff. “You can’t mean you’re going to go through with the wedding?”

“I have no choice. I must marry Lord Dunsbard. If I don’t, he is sure to hunt me down, and I do not take a fancy to facing his anger.”

“But I thought you wanted to escape, my lady. Isn’t that why Lord Dunsbard has been placing guards at your door?”

“I did want to escape, but I’ve changed my mind. I believe to be married to Drake will be to my advantage after all.”

“You cannot mean that.”

“I do. This is my father’s fief and if I am to hold the title of Lady of Thorndale, there is no other way.”

“But there must be another.”

“Nay, Birdie. I have already considered the consequences. If I don’t want to lose the lands that should rightfully be mine, I must marry Drake. ’Tis the only way to secure my future.”

“But he doesn’t belong here,” the girl protested.

“No, he doesn’t,” she said thoughtfully. “But mayhap I can change things once I claim the title of wife to the man who stole what wasn’t his to take. Now help me find something to wear to this wedding.”

Birdie followed her to the trunk. “What are your feelings about Lord Dunsbard? Do you not hate him like the rest of Thorndale’s original occupants?”

Brynn looked up, wondering if she should tell Birdie about the
dreamwalking
plane and what happened between her and Drake. But then she remembered how scared Birdie had been when Brynn first showed her how fire could not harm her. The girl almost swooned when she’d watched Brynn put her entire arm into the fire. Then it took months before Birdie would even look her in the eye or talk to her again. Birdie had been one of her best friends at the castle, but their friendship had nearly been ruined that day.

Not everyone accepted Brynn’s ability with fire. There were many who had decided she was an evil witch with darkness in her soul. But in time, people started to like her, forgetting about their fear of her powers. Now that her
dreamwalking
ability had been discovered by the Klarens, she knew word would be out and once again she’d be feared. No, she couldn’t tell Birdie about the
dreamwalking
plane. Not just yet.

“I am not sure how I feel about Lord Dunsbard,” she answered, not wanting to pursue the subject.

Brynn lifted the lid and looked into the trunk. Fond memories stirred inside her when she spied her mother’s belongings. She ran her hand over the rich materials of velvet and satin. She picked up an ivory-handled hairbrush and clutched it to her heart. She remembered her mother telling her that her father had given it to her on their wedding day. It had been a special gift that she’d always wanted. She handed the brush to Birdie, and spied the long purple hooded cloak her mother loved to wear, folded up neatly in the corner of the trunk.

Witch, witch,
she heard in her mind. Her mother stopped wearing it just to keep her father from being upset. She had treasured this piece of clothing, but yet her husband meant more to her. She didn’t want the people turning against him. It was hard enough that he’d married her. It was on their wedding day that she put away anything that might be used to accuse her of being a witch, and never took them out again. If only people would understand they had faerie blood running through their veins, and that they weren’t witches at all.

“Oh, this is beautiful!” Birdie reached into the trunk, pulling out Brynn’s mother’s own wedding gown. It was breathtaking. A long white train hung from the gown, decorated just as beautiful as the long tippet sleeves adorned with tiny pearls and amethyst gemstones. Brynn picked up the matching headdress. It was a crown of jewels, with a long frilly veil connected that was longer than the train of the dress.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” said Brynn.

“But ’tis your wedding day!” exclaimed Birdie. “Don’t you want to look comely?”

She couldn’t help but think of what Drake was wearing to the wedding. Very dirty, wrinkled clothes that he probably hadn’t changed in months. She wasn’t going to wear anything that looked like she enjoyed the wedding. She didn’t want to marry Drake this way. She felt no better than a servant the way he commanded her to marry him. His words held no tenderness, just power. She would marry, but she would also remind him it was naught more than a means of convenience in name only. And she saw the perfect way to do this.

“This will be just fine.” She picked up a drab black, plain gown and a headdress that sported a black veil to cover her face.

“But, that is what one wears when in mourning, my lady. Are you for certain?”

Brynn held it against her with a grin on her face, knowing this was her first act of reclaiming her title and power. She looked at Birdie and nodded.

“Oh, yes, I am certain.”

Chapter 7

 

 

Brynn walked to the chapel, escorted by two of Drake’s guards. Birdie followed along behind, wringing her hands in worry.

“The lord would not like this, my lady. Perhaps you should have worn the white gown.”

Brynn was dressed from head to toe in black. In her hands she carried a bouquet of dead, dried flowers she’d lifted from a vase in the hall. Her hair was pinned up tight under the ugly headdress. The black veil covered her face.

She’d stalled as long as she could in the room, and only left because Drake had ordered his men to go in and carry her down to the chapel ready or not. He was not a patient man, and didn’t like when one didn’t follow his orders. She’d come to the chapel of her own accord, but only because she didn’t want Drake’s warriors touching her.

The guard pulled open the chapel door, and music from bagpipes split the air as she entered. Sun streaked in from the stained-glass windows - a rare and expensive present from a wealthy earl to her parents at their wedding. Relief surged through her that the windows hadn’t been ruined in the attack. It brought to her a feeling of security. A feeling that her parents were there with her in some way. The chapel looked as if it hadn’t been touched during the siege. Most likely the will of God to keep it from being demolished. The beams of the ceiling met at a point high overhead, reaching down to a huge crucifix mounted behind the altar.

The benches for worshippers were decorated with gold cloth ribbons made into bows, and had there been flowers in her mother’s garden, she was sure they would have adorned the place as well. A scarlet runner lie on the ground for her to walk upon. Dragons graced the cloth sporadically along the length of the walkway. It surprised her that Drake went to such extremes to make the wedding beautiful. She didn’t want a beautiful wedding. Not when she was being forced to marry. She wanted to keep this as plain and simple as possible.

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