Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8) Read online

  It was hard to get a good look at his face as he struggled mightily to escape, but he did have darker skin than typical for an Iskandian. Still, Sardelle didn’t think it was as dark as that of most Cofah—not as bronze as Tolemek’s flesh. And the man wore clothing typical of Pinoth’s latest fashions.

  I don’t think spies usually dress in military uniforms from their country, Jaxi told her.

  “Put him down,” Angulus said as he walked toward the door, looking like he meant to call in his bodyguards.

  Are you certain, human king? He is most nefarious and untrustworthy. I do not wish you to be in danger of—

  The ripping of clothing tore through the office, and the man plopped to the rug. The entire back of his shirt hung from one of Bhrava Saruth’s fangs. The man yelled and ran toward the door.

  At first, Sardelle thought he was fleeing, hoping to escape the dragon through the most viable exit. But his eyes bulged in recognition as Angulus came into his sights, and he yanked a dagger out of a belt sheath.

  He sprang at Angulus with the blade.

  Though startled, Sardelle raised a barrier between the two men, even as armed bodyguards rushed in through the door and Angulus leaped back, jerking an arm up in a block. The man struck Sardelle’s barrier and bounced into the air. Rifles fired, and bullets slammed into his chest before his feet touched down. She felt his pain as he cried out, tumbling back against the desk.

  More guards rushed in, and they piled on the man, searching him for weapons and flinging them away. As they hoisted him to his feet, Sardelle sensed that one of the bullets had found his heart and that he would die soon. Unless she intervened. Should she?

  She looked at Angulus. He appeared more stern and angry than afraid.

  “Sire,” she said. “Do you want him alive for questioning?”

  Too late, Jaxi said.

  She looked to the man as the bodyguards dragged him toward the doorway and realized Jaxi was right. “Never mind, Sire. It’s too late. Your bodyguards have deadly aim.”

  “They’re trained for that,” Angulus said grimly. He looked toward his window.

  Bhrava Saruth still crouched there, his talons gouging deep scratches in the painted sill. He was using his large pink tongue to try to flick the remains of the man’s shirt from his fang, and he appeared unaware of them observing him. Finally, he drew his tongue back into his mouth, and Sardelle sensed a tendril of magic being drawn upon before the garment burst into flames. Ashes trickled to the floor.

  “What in the hells just happened?” Angulus asked.

  Cofah spies are despicable, Bhrava Saruth said. Killing you was not even his mission. I believe he simply saw an opportunity and took it. I did not intend to let him go. Human clothing is very fragile.

  “Sardelle?” Angulus asked. “Was that a spy?”

  Sardelle had no idea, though she was inclined to think so after he’d attacked Angulus.

  Actually, Jaxi said, I was peeking into his thoughts before all that craziness happened, and he did seem to be a spy. He was terribly panicked at having been caught and worried he would be punished by Inquisitor Arkos—I do not know who that is. I don’t remember inquisitors from my day.

  “That’s the head of the emperor’s—now Prince Varlok’s—intelligence division. Huh.” Angulus looked at Bhrava Saruth again, his expression softening. It wasn’t exactly friendly, but he did appear less irked. “You say he was at your island?”

  The future home of my temple, human king. Which I am most excited to see completed. I caught him spying on its construction.

  “Why would the Cofah be concerned about Bhrava Saruth’s temple?” Sardelle wondered.

  Why would anyone? Jaxi asked.

  High priestess. Bhrava Saruth swung his head to look into Sardelle’s eyes, and the ledge he balanced on creaked. Your sword is being mouthy again.

  Yes, it’s her special talent.

  I intentionally did not include him in my telepathic communication, Jaxi said. He’s a gold-snouted eavesdropper.

  “Perhaps,” Angulus said after a thoughtful silence, “the Cofah are concerned about the cordial relationship we share with Bhrava Saruth and the fact that he’s fought on behalf of Iskandia several times now. They may see the establishment of a nearby residence for him—”

  Temple, Bhrava Saruth corrected. A divine temple suitable for a dragon god.

  “Yes,” Angulus murmured. “The Cofah may see it as a sign that we’ve established a permanent alliance with Bhrava Saruth and that if they make any aggressive moves on our country, they’ll have to deal with him.”

  I shall nobly battle and defeat those Cofah mule molesters.

  I’m going to laugh my scabbard off if he nobly breaks that window sill and falls into the courtyard.

  “That’s good to hear,” Angulus said. “It’s also possible there are spies in the city, as there usually are, looking for information on Emperor Salatak’s whereabouts.”

  Sardelle nodded. It had been a few months now since the kidnapping, but the empire surely hadn’t given up on finding its missing emperor. She had no idea where Angulus had stashed the man, but she did trust that he hadn’t killed Salatak, that he was in exile somewhere secret.

  “The spies may also have seen the front-page newspaper article and decided to investigate the temple for themselves,” Angulus said.

  “That seems possible, Sire.”

  “I’ll alert Intelligence with what we know. They’re already trying to figure out if this Dakrovian shaman will strike again. I’m sure they’ll be delighted to have more trouble.” Angulus stepped over to the doorway and looked both ways in the hallway outside. He murmured a question to one of the guards stationed out there, then leaned back in. “Sardelle, do you know which way Fern went?”

  “Ah.” Sardelle felt embarrassed that she’d forgotten about Fern in the chaos. She reached out with her senses and frowned when she didn’t find her in the castle anywhere.

  She’s in the carriage we arrived in, halfway down the hill into the city, Jaxi said. She must have told the driver her meeting was over.

  “Oh dear,” Sardelle said.

  Angulus raised his eyebrows.

  “She left.”

  Angulus pushed a hand through his curly hair. “I meant to alleviate her concerns, not add to them.”

  “I think she may just need some time to get used to the idea of… everything.”

  “Perhaps. She didn’t seem herself though. Granted, I’ve only met the woman once, but she has a cold or something and looked quite distraught. Sardelle, I’m not in the habit of having women flee my castle in distress.”

  “I think she was more distressed by the dragon than you, Sire.”

  “Who would be distressed by a friendly dragon?” Bhrava Saruth asked, hopping down from the window sill, now in his human form, blond locks falling about his face—and into his eyes. “Perhaps I should have changed into this unassuming shape earlier? I’ve been told that it’s most appealing to females.” He stopped in front of the desk and pointed at the cinnamon bun tray. “Are these for me? Did you anticipate my coming?”

  Angulus wriggled his fingers at them. “Go ahead. Mrs. Zirkander wasn’t interested in them. Sardelle, I need to talk to my people about the spy right away and make sure nothing is afoot for tonight.”

  “Tonight, Sire?”

  “The Festival of Lights I’ve let myself be talked into. Guests will be arriving early this evening.” He pushed his fingers through his hair again. “Is it terribly unkingly to wish I hadn’t agreed to it and that I could simply curl up in my favorite chair with a book?”

  “I think it’s human.”

  He started for the door but paused and looked back. “You’re invited, of course. If you didn’t know. I believe my steward already invited Zirkander and some of our hero soldiers, but hero sorceresses should receive invitations too.” He smiled, though it appeared frazzled.

  “Thank you, Sire.”

  “And, ah, I don’t wan
t to presume, but I would appreciate an invitation to your wedding.”

  “Oh, I filled out a card for you weeks ago, Sire. But Ridge took it and mentioned wanting to deliver it personally.” She pursed her lips. “I hadn’t realized he hadn’t already given it to you.”

  “Ah? Then I am invited? Good. I didn’t want you to think I wouldn’t make the time to come.” He gave her something akin to a military salute. “Good afternoon.”

  He disappeared into the hallway, leaving Sardelle frowning slightly. Why hadn’t Ridge already given Angulus that invitation? She knew they butted heads from time to time, and that Ridge wasn’t positive where he stood with Angulus after the incident with the sorceress, but he’d spoken to the king numerous times in the last few weeks. Why couldn’t he have left the invitation on Angulus’s desk at one of the meetings?

  “Delicious.” The smacking of lips followed the word. “Better than freshly caught sheep.”

  Sardelle looked over at the demolished tray of pastries and almost commented on the dragon’s insatiable appetite but noticed something white on the rug in front of the desk. She walked over and picked it up, then realized it was the handkerchief Fern had been coughing into. She spotted blood on it, and her stomach dropped.

  “She’s got more than a cold,” Sardelle whispered, lamenting that she had been interrupted and hadn’t had a chance to thoroughly examine Fern. “Bhrava Saruth?”

  Bhrava Saruth lowered the tray from his face. Had he been licking it? “Yes?”

  “Do you have time to help me find someone?”

  “Of course, high priestess.”

  Do we need his help to find Fern? Jaxi asked. She’s most likely on the highway with that carriage taking her home.

  We don’t have a steam carriage of our own, and it’s a ways to the army fort where we might be able to get a horse. A dragon would be convenient and allow us to catch up with her.

  What about the light festival? The king very pointedly invited you. Don’t you think he’ll be disappointed if you’re not here?

  Fern needs help. You should know I would prioritize healing someone—Ridge’s mother!—over anything else.

  Yes, I do know that. I just object to riding on a dragon with frosting all over his nose.

  One can’t be picky about one’s allies.

  Not even a little bit? I feel that hygiene should be considered when choosing an ally.

  “I can carry you wherever you wish to go,” Bhrava Saruth said. “Are you ready now? Follow me.”

  He left the tray on the desk, ran to the window, hopped on the ledge, and sprang outside. Sardelle didn’t see whether he landed before changing into his normal form, but she sensed it when his powerful dragon aura returned. Even if he was a goofball, she genuinely appreciated his willingness to help.

  Yes, Jaxi said, but can we just use the door?

  Ridge scrawled his signature on a requisition form, barely glancing at the text. The paperwork had stacked up during the days he’d been arranging the temple construction, begging the king for favors, and chasing down the coast after Tolemek. This was at least the hundredth thing he had signed this afternoon.

  After moving it to the side, he set down his pen and shook out his hand, eyeing another stack waiting for him. He was tempted to take off early and fly out to see his mother—her meeting with the king should have been earlier that day—to see how she was doing. But he had better complete every duty assigned to him first. Since Angulus had deigned to see his mother, the least Ridge could do was stay abreast of all the work related to the flier battalion and flight academy. Besides, he still hoped to ask Angulus to be his kin watcher at the wedding. Staying in his good graces was important.

  A solid knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in,” Ridge said, shaking his hand again. Funny how all the gripping and maneuvering he did with his flier’s flight stick never caused cramps but scribbling recommendations and signing his name over and over did.

  The door opened, and General Ort strode in, his uniform as precisely pressed as always, his gray hair impeccably combed even though the cap tucked under his arm had likely lain atop it recently. His boots gleamed like gold coins in the sunlight slanting through the window.

  “General Ort,” Ridge said, standing and starting to salute before he caught himself. He’d had his new rank for months and still forgot he didn’t need to salute generals. “Vilhem,” he added, knowing Ort would correct him if he didn’t do it himself. Even if he still couldn’t get used to the idea of calling him by name. “Am I in trouble?”

  “Do you feel like you should be?” Ort asked as Ridge waved him to one of the two chairs in front of the desk. Ort carried a folder as well as his cap.

  “Usually.”

  “I understand the king was impressed that you’ve already got everything in place for Bhrava Saruth’s temple.” Ort eased into the chair. “Albeit less impressed that the dragon is getting a temple.”

  “Impressed?” Ridge leaned back in his own chair. “That’s not the impression I got when I spoke to him about it. He mostly seemed irritated. Apparently, his castle renovation hasn’t come together as quickly.”

  “Mm.”

  Ridge, wondering what had brought Ort to his office, asked, “You’re still coming to the wedding, right? To stand at my side to attest that I’m fit to marry Sardelle?”

  “I believe my job as one of the two kin watchers for the male member of the wedding party is to judge whether she’s fit to marry you.”

  “Yes, but we all know she is. I’m the questionable one.”

  “I won’t argue with you about that. I’m actually here on another matter—” Ort lifted the folder, “—but before I get into it, I’ve been instructed to ask, on my oldest daughter’s behalf, if you have any spare wedding invitations.”

  “For her? Certainly. I would have sent her one, but I didn’t know she would be in the city.”

  “She’s coming for the wedding. And I believe she was hoping to get five invitations for her local friends here. Actually, she asked for ten, but I think those were to barter to people who want to go and who would trade her favors or goods in return.” Ort pressed his lips together. “Wedding invitations hardly seem like they should be used as currency.”

  Ridge blinked, surprised Ort’s daughter Thami would come all the way up here for his wedding. They had met a few times over the years, but Ort had generally been careful to keep his daughters out of Ridge’s orbit. Apparently, a teenaged Thami had made the mistake of admitting to having a crush on him however many years ago that had been. Ort had found that extremely unacceptable. Thami was close to thirty now, if Ridge recalled correctly.

  “I’ve been personalizing them, rather than just handing out blanks,” Ridge said, “but I guess I can scrounge some up for her to give to friends. Though I’m a little puzzled as to why anyone who doesn’t know me or Sardelle would want to come.”

  He and Sardelle had decided to have a simple wedding in the backyard at the house, overlooking the pond. But if more people than they had planned on wanted to come, he would have to look for a larger venue. Would it be too late to find something appropriate? He feared it might be.

  “Please, Ridge. Thanks to those hundreds of newspaper articles over the years, everybody knows you. Or feels they do. I understand your wedding has been deemed the social event of the year.”

  Ridge stared at Ort. If it had been anyone else, Ridge would have been certain that was a joke, but stolid General Ort rarely made jokes.

  “You must have known,” Ort said.

  “Uh, no, and I can’t imagine it. Especially not with that journalist saying all those nasty things about Sardelle controlling me and using magic to force me into wedding her. What’s her name? Dunberry. Dumbberry. Something like that. Can you believe she had the gall to ask me for an invitation the last time she cornered me coming out of the fort? I’m half tempted to start flying everywhere I go, so I can ensure I don’t run into her again.”

  “
It must be a burden being a man of such renown.” Ort's dark eyes twinkled.

  “It’s a burden being teased by my commanding officer. General, I think you’ve spent too much time around me.” Ridge pointed at the folder. “What did you come to see me about?”

  “The report you turned in last night.”

  “I put in everything Tolemek told me.” Ridge, knowing a copy would go to Ort, the Intelligence unit, and the king, to be pored over by countless staff members, had done his best to be complete.

  “So I gathered. I have a copy here.” Ort opened the folder, skimmed the first page, then closed it again. “You recommended extra guards at the castle and that the navy deploy its own submarines to keep an eye on the harbor and surrounding waters.”

  “Yes, that’s right. I talked to Sardelle, too, and she thinks she can put some magical alarms around the castle so they’ll be tripped if someone with dragon blood flowing through their veins attempts to sneak in.”

  “You’re not supposed to hypothesize in reports, naturally, but you’ve had as much experience with these vials of dragon blood as anyone. Do you think this shaman is likely to risk his life to acquire our supply? It seems that making a deal with a dragon might be safer.”

  “I believe Phelistoth and Bhrava Saruth have both been asked if they would voluntarily share some of their blood, and neither liked the idea. Phelistoth since he’d already had so much of his blood extracted without his permission, and Bhrava Saruth because—” Ridge shifted his voice to emulate that of the dragon’s, “—a god does not give his blood to his followers.” Ridge cleared his throat. “I don’t imagine the Cofah-friendly dragons are much different, and I don’t know if any of the dragons we inadvertently let out of that cave prison decided to claim Dakrovia.”

  “So, your answer is yes, you deem it likely this shaman will break into the castle.”

  “Was I too longwinded?” If so, that amused Ridge. He’d always considered Ort the longwinded one.

  “I deem it likely, too, and suggested to the king this morning that he move the dragon blood. To somewhere only he knows.”