“One caught him in the side, but I cannot get it out.” Sir Oliver is all too calm for what he’s telling us from his position behind Theo’s left wing. “The angle. It’s lodged against his rib, wedged under this scale. I think I’m only making matters worse.”
“What are you… oh, my Goddess.” Blood, too much blood, flows along the scales of his side, a demented version of a waterfall, pooling onto the ground. “An arrow? Of all the modern weaponry available, they use arrows?”
Jai moves away from me, touching around the arrow, assessing the injury. “To kill a dragon, yes.… Fae-forged steel. Poison tip. But this not bring death to him. Not enough. Dragon too big.”
Shaking his head, Sir Oliver confirms. “They did not account for size if they intended to kill Theo… or me. We are both significantly larger than any of the others.” He tells me this as if I didn’t notice Theo is still alive, or that the two of them are ridiculously huge dragons.
“Obviously,” I remark, glaring at him. “But can you get that out of him?”
“Not without him shifting, I’m afraid. Human flesh is far softer, easier to pull an arrow from, though it also damages far easier, and the injury will be worsened.” Sir Oliver doesn’t appear any more pleased with this idea than I am. “Jai, are you ready?” My little dragon nods, his expression serious, focused, a misplaced expression on his sweet face. “Theo.”
Sir Oliver says his name as a command, and my dragon, my Theo shifts back, wearing only his favored faded jeans, hunched over on his hands and knees. “Theo!” Relieved to see his face but scared of what’s about to happen, I drop to my knees beside him, fingers in his hair and on his cheek, needing to touch him, to know he’s still with me. “You told me not to worry, that you could take care of yourself, and now…”
I can’t finish, can’t tease him and make this seem okay. It’s not, and my eyes fill with tears. Claaron joins me, kneeling at my side, an arm around my shoulders, remaining quiet. I’m not sure if it reassures me or worries me more that he’s not being the normal Snowflake I know. The serious expression on all the dragons’ faces does nothing to console me. Even Dante seems too upset, standing much closer now, a hand on Corrin’s neck, keeping him on his knees, head bowed.
“I will be fine, Cait.” His voice is strained, full of pain. “Do not be concerned. Are you alright?”
Exhaling slowly, trying to stay calm, I hold his face in my hands. “I’m fine, and you are so damn stubborn.”
“Too stubborn to die, Cait.” He tries to smile, but it’s more of a grimace. “Jai, get it out.”
As tenderly as possible, Jai pulls on the arrow, and Theo’s jaw clenches. I hold onto him tighter, wanting to take away the pain. The blood pours out at an alarming rate, my dragon making choked growling noises as it’s removed, leaving a horrible gaping hole in his side, but it begins closing within seconds of the steel no longer touching his body.
“Well, that looks better.… Right? Doesn’t it?” I question Sir Oliver, needing independent verification. Theo will just tell me it’s fine.
“Skin heals rather quickly. The internal injuries will take longer. We must get him home, and ensure you are both secure.”
“You’re on our side now?” Looking up at him, I wait for an answer.
He smoothes his tie, having shifted back into a three-piece pinstripe suit. Same pretentious dragon. Different day. “These are my kindred brothers, Lady Hayden, and you must be protected for all of us, not only them.” Glancing toward Corrin, his brows crease, features hardening. “But it is not yet my time.”
“It isn’t, or you don’t want it to be?” His eyes fall to Theo, and he doesn’t answer. “What do we do with Corrin?” I ask, not sure which of them I’m asking, but Claaron replies.
“He is a prisoner of war, Cait. We hold him, question him, then determine his fate.”
“War? That seems exaggerated, don’t you think?” But glancing around at Liam, Clifford, Sir Oliver, Dante, even Jai, I see their faces all agree.
“Yes, Cait.” Theo sounds slightly better than he did just minutes ago. “Elves do not fight unless they are declaring war on their chosen enemy.”
Chapter 18
*Cait*
Theo leans forward on the edge of the bed, letting me dry his hair, and it’s hard not to keep looking at the still pink mark, worrying how well he’s healing inside. “Do you feel any better now?”
“Being clean? Yes.” He answers the question I wasn’t asking in a quiet voice, showing signs of recovery by avoiding direct responses again. “I failed you.” My dragon shakes his head and buries his face in his hands, then takes a deep breath, and I notice how he flinches at the action, in more pain than he’s willing to tell me. “I engaged the enemy that was attacking, discounting the threat Corrin posed.”
“I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. I don’t think he intended to, either.” I toss the wet towel through the open door onto the bathroom floor. I’ll deal with it later. Priorities don’t include laundry during times of war, I suppose. “And anyway, Dante showed up so quick. Then Jai was practically right behind him.”
Moving to lie on the bed, Theo gingerly stays on his left side, keeping any pressure off his injury, but it hurts to see him turning his back to me. “Dante. Jai. Not me, Cait.… I am honor-bound to protect you, to ensure nothing happens to you, that nothing interferes with your destiny.”
“Destiny. I am so sick of that word, and sick of not knowing what it means. But we must surrounded by all the others for some reason. Aren’t they tied to me in some way, meant to protect me, too?” Caught between explaining it to him and asking him for answers, it makes sense to me, I think. But what do I know?
“My brothers.… Not Dante.… He does because he loves you. Perhaps he should.”
The anger tainting his growled reply catches me off guard, and only his injury prevents me from hitting him. “Do not do this again, Theo.” It’s my final warning. I can’t deal with any more back and forth, not with everything else happening to me.
“I must sleep, Cait. We will not discuss this now.”
Yanking open one of the dresser drawers I’ve designated as Theo’s, I grab a pair of his shorts out and throw them at his head. “Fine. We won’t. We won’t talk at all. But if I come back in here and you’re still on the bed in that wet towel, I will roll you off my bed, hurt or not.” Slamming the door as hard as I can, I storm out, colliding with Dante.
“Caitriona, is everything alright? You seem quite distraught. Is Theo not doing well?” His concern sounds honest enough, though I don’t doubt he heard everything, only his polite manners preventing him from admitting as much.
“Oh, he’s fine. Perfectly fine. Doing well enough to be a pain in my ass again.” Screaming out the words, hoping Theo hears me, I rely on fury to prevent me from crying as he takes my hands in his, sending the tingling sensation through me I’ve come to expect.
He doesn’t pull me against him or move to close distance between us, but he does stare with an intensity of which I’m sure only supernatural beings are capable, as if intent on peering into you.
“My mother created the Dracopraesi to serve a purpose, Caitriona. I have considered Theo my dearest friend for nearly three thousand years. He will not take his duties lightly, nor will he disregard any perceived failure.” Dante drops his eyes to our hands, running his thumbs over my skin, the tenderness and love not diminished in his touch.
“I acted to protect you from the potential threat, whereas he reacted to the immediate danger. Perhaps it is not the correct way to assess the events, but he is a dragon, and it is the way he will. Somehow, you seem to change who we are, bring out parts of us we did not know existed, but you cannot change what we are, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t feel like I’ve changed anything, unless you’re referring to the mess all your lives are now.”
“That is not so, Caitriona.” Emphatic, his vivid blue eyes meet mine again. “You have changed me.”
Noddi
ng, I frown at his perception of our relationship. “Because falling in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same is such a wonderful thing.” My statement may be wrought with sarcasm, but it’s delivered without a punch.
“I cannot undo the decision you have made, nor would I, as it is yours to make.” His voice is soft, a sad honesty in those words. “However, I do not regret a moment spent with you, Caitriona, and neither do I regret what I feel because of it.”
“Thank you, Dante.”
“As always, you are quite welcome,” he replies, a quizzical expression on his face. “Though, I must ask for what you are thanking me exactly.”
With a smile, I shrug and shake my head. “I don’t know. Everything you’ve done… or maybe just that you’ve done nothing when you could have.”
“Admittedly, I have acted only with what I believed to be justifiable purpose, but so has Theo. Yet it does seem one of us hurts you, time and time again, and unless I misunderstand your reactions, one of us does not.”
“No.” It’s too easy to reply, knowing the answer is clear. “You haven’t.… But can he really justify pushing me away like this?”
The demigod’s lips tighten into a thin line, his brows creasing. “Theo can, and he does, or he would not take such actions. I may not see the justification as he does, but that does not mean it does not exist. We are similar in many ways but vastly different as well. The Dracopraesi have a code of honor they live by that always influences every decision he makes, each action taken. Do not expect those ways to change.”
“But you don’t. You said it yourself: you don’t have the same rules they do.” Squeezing his hands, I hope he remembers our conversation while dancing, and maybe feels some of the same informational generosity now. “Tell me what is happening to me, please.”
“I cannot.” His response is quick, adamant.
“At least tell me something, Dante. Nothing makes sense to me.”
He says nothing at first, and I’m willing to beg at this point, if necessary. But he keeps staring at me with that strange intensity once again. “You and I are more alike than you realize quite yet, Caitriona.”
“Oh, I find that hard to believe. I’m definitely not some demigoddess.”
My laugh is too sharp considering every detail of his features expresses absolute seriousness.
“No. You are quite correct. I know who you are. And quite soon, you will be more than I am.” I stare back at him, unsure how to respond. “This is not the time, nor is it the place to discuss such matters.”
“Not the place… why are you hanging around outside my bedroom?”
“Had you not come barreling out of your room, I would have knocked.” He looks a bit offended by my implied accusation. “The dragons are at odds regarding Corrin’s fate. Given the fact Theo is recovering, I felt it imperative you be involved in this decision.” I nod in agreement, and Dante releases my hands, looking embarrassed he was still holding them. “After you, Caitriona,” gesturing toward the kitchen. “I insisted they wait to discuss matters further until you joined us.”
*Corrin*
I hear her enter, smell the lavender of her hair, but do not look up from my place seated at the island, surrounded by dragons unable to agree on my fate. Perhaps I will remain a prisoner for the time being. The possibility I will meet my end is far too real though, and Cait has brought to light many lifetimes of regrets I hold, sins I lack time to atone for.
The Mage-dragon moves away from Clifford’s side to stand at Cait’s, Claaron Graywyne joining her as well. “Cait, I believe we should keep him alive until Theo is able to make a decision.”
Liam is quick to argue. “He is to blame for the near death of our brother. He has gone too far in this. We cannot allow him to continue this way. Corrin’s very existence endangers Cait.”
I can feel Oliver staring at me from across the island, standing, watching, disappointed in me, and the ways I have failed to meet his expectations. “Corrin is my ward, brother. I do not wish to see him destroyed, but should it be the decision, I ask it be my responsibility to enact his punishment. It is my own failings that have allowed this end.”
“My shortcomings are not your failures, Oliver. This is my own doing. Though I knew nothing of Z’s intent today, I did not consider his words, or anticipate the actions he might take,” I admit. “He warned me this morning that allowing Cait to live could very well ensure my death, the monarchy overthrown by dragons.”
“Then you did plan to kill me. You lied.” The accusation from her does not pain me as deeply as her lack of surprise at the idea it could be true.
“No. I still grasped at some small hope I could win your heart, Cait.” Looking up finally, I meet her angered gaze. “I did not tell him that regardless of the outcome it guaranteed for me, no reason would be enough for me to do such a thing. You so easily believe me capable of murder, yet incapable of love. Perhaps I do not love you properly or rightfully, Cait, but please do not disregard I have indeed tried.”
“If you knew nothing and had no intent of your own, explain how you could have possibly reacted so quickly to take Caitriona away,” Dante demands, a dark glare fixed on me.
“The moment the doors opened I could smell them. There were too many, far more of them than I had brought along as my Guard contingent. I did not know if they were prepared for an attack Z learned would come from your side or if they were ordered to launch their own assault, but I had no doubt, whether offensive or defensive, that Z’s tactical orders would have included Cait’s death.” Dropping my head, staring at my hands on the island in front of me, I bear the shame of these events. “I am King of United Sovereign America. I had no reason to expect an attack ordered without my knowledge. However, even if Cait demanded my head, I have quite notably earned it. In my eyes, she has not, and I will not be party to such actions.”
She takes a pronounced breath, exhaling slowly, deliberately, in its even and measured pace. I hope she weighs my words thoughtfully. “Clifford, I haven’t heard your opinion. What do you think?” Cait approaches the matter with fairness and consideration, every ounce of respect given her by the dragons deserved.
“I think as king, he should be held responsible. He knew Z’s personal views on the matter, yet did not anticipate a logical behavior in association with such beliefs as our destinies altered the status of the Guard. Even if indirectly, Corrin’s action—or inaction, as the case may be—resulted in Theo being severely injured.” My former trusted guard pauses, the weight of the responsibility he claims I should bear crushing me in its truth. “But Jai does not see it this way, and I must consider his view as well.”
Any doubt I held that she was not what they believed of her has passed. Their deference to her in the way they speak is quite clear. Cait commands the loyalty and service of the most respected brothers of the House of Pendragon, the dragon famed for his protection of countless influential Oracles, and the only dragon Mage. I am not blind or ignorant to the fact Oliver will pledge fealty to her in some short measure of time.
Jai steps toward me, as if on an unspoken instruction from Cait, and I feel compelled to look at him. He stares in a most unnerving way, unblinking, wide, blue eyes intently focused, giving the distinct sense he is reading my soul… or more. “I see no king.” The Mage-dragon assesses me in a hushed voice. Everyone stands still, silent, waiting for what he will tell. “I see child. Unlearned. A pawn. Actions misguided. Words true.” He shakes his head, coming nearer, peering deeper. “Death unjust.”
“What words were true, Smiley?” She questions him with authority, though I find her reference to the dragon odd.
“All he spoke.” Jaiteru turns to her, and I cannot see his face, but what it tells her causes such a strong reaction, she pales, seeming startled. “The boy feels love for you.… Your dragons do.… And Dante.… Cait is loved. Cait is love. Cait is our North Star.”
She nods, appearing rather unsettled by this quiet announcement. “Alright. For now, Dan
te, would you please take Corrin to the guest room by the office and keep an eye on him? I need to speak with my dragons alone for a minute.”
“Of course, Caitriona.” With a slight bow to her, he turns to approach, but I stand first, not wishing to give him reason to grasp hold of me again. However, he takes me by the arm, not at all careful in his touch. “This way, Corrin.”
The shades of blue on the walls and bedding with the light maple furniture and wide windows bringing in the sunshine gives a rather inviting feel for what is essentially my prison cell as long as they choose to hold me.
Dante does not speak until I notice a photo of Cait with her uncle at the Royal Yule Ball last winter, her dress a fantasy of ice in silvery pale blue. “Have you any idea how many times you must have seen her before this, Corrin? Truly, we all have. Caitriona attended countless functions with Greyson, yet we overlooked her. You overlooked her.”
Picking up the framed picture, I recall meeting her. “Her uncle introduced us this night. He mentioned to me she turned twenty in July.… I knew her to be of age and even thought her quite attractive, but had no desire to marry, and certainly no interest in becoming entangled with a high-society woman.”
“Whores are far simpler.” An air of judgment in his tone, he walks over, taking the photo from me.
“I do not think of them as whores. I want what they are willing to give freely. Never do I lie to them or coerce them.”
Dante grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Despite how very much I wish to deny it, you are my grandson, Corrin. You are above such disrespect and degradation of women, encouraging they sell their bodies for hope and opportunity only to find they do not receive the slightest measure of concern from you, used and tossed aside without a thought for what you have done. Can you even imagine what my mother must think of you, knowing her blood runs in a king who bears such little regard for women? You are a disgrace, holding no honor or reverence for their gender, and an embarrassment to her blood.”