Chapter Thirteen
Georgiana paced in front of the parlor window of the Wethersby townhouse impatient for Saron’s carriage to roll up the street. She was leaping out of her skin and eager to learn the outcome of the conversation he and her father had held with the Marquis of Linwood. “Georgiana,” Anabelle said, setting down her cup of tea and easing her awkward frame gently onto the settee, “your fidgeting won’t make them return any faster.”
“I know, but neither will sitting quietly and sipping tea calm my nerves.” She drew her woolen shawl tightly about her shoulders, for the rose silk drapes were drawn aside and a chilly wind howled through the thick panes of glass even though the window was closed. The day was unusually cold even for February, and she felt the draft of a stiff breeze prickle against her cheeks. “I appreciate your waiting with me, Anabelle. But how can you remain so calm? Saron picked up my father hours ago.”
The men had arranged to meet the marquis at noon at his home, and now it was almost four o’clock and still there was no sign of them.
Anabelle chuckled. “Saron and I fought for months before we’d ever met each other. And we fought for months afterward. A few hours is nothing. These matters are delicate and will take time. Who knows? All might have progressed splendidly and now they’ve gone off to your father’s solicitors to draw up the contract ending the betrothal.”
“Or to the bank to secure the funds to pay off Oliver,” she muttered, doubting Oliver would be gracious or honorable about losing the chance to marry a wealthy duke’s daughter. He’d been lured by her funds and would likely demand a hefty price to be bought off. Perhaps she was judging him too harshly. His family had wealth of their own and he was no pauper. At least, he spent as though he had blunt to burn. His father must have provided him a generous allowance.
She peeked out the window again and saw nothing but a gray sky overhead and a street coated in white, the remnant of this morning’s snow still on the ground. Hoofbeats and the clatter of a carriage suddenly caught her attention. In the next moment, the duke’s carriage drew up in front of her home. “They’re here.”
She wasted no time in scurrying to the front door ahead of their butler and throwing it open. “What did he say?”
Her father and Saron, showing more discretion than she had shown, ushered her back into the parlor and closed the door behind them. Georgiana settled beside Anabelle and took hold of her hand, finding she needed a bit of Anabelle’s confidence.
“It went surprisingly well,” her father said, striding to one of a pair of decorative cabinets lining the wall and opening it. He kept his decanters of port and bottles of whiskey in there. “Care for a drink, Draloch?”
Saron nodded. “Port will do for me.”
Her father grabbed two crystal wine glasses and poured the dark ruby liquid into each of them. “I feel like downing the entire bottle,” he muttered, handing one of the glasses to the duke. “He agreed to end the betrothal. There will be no marriage.”
“Thank goodness,” Georgiana said in a whisper. “But at what price, Father?”
“It cost me nothing. That’s the part that makes me uneasy. His father holds a tight rein on the family wealth. Linwood isn’t wealthy in his own right and I know he has debts. I offered to pay them off, but he declined.”
Georgiana felt bad about that, but was heartened that Oliver had proven himself to be more honorable than she had expected. Indeed, far worthier than she’d given him credit for. “Oh, dear. Perhaps your presence,” she said, nodding toward Saron, “had more of an effect on him than we realized. You do have a fearsome reputation. He must have been quaking in his boots.”
Her father nodded. “I shall wait a brief period and quietly offer again to pay his debts.”
“And I shall write him a letter,” Georgiana said with a nod. “I owe him at least that much. Now I feel terrible that I misjudged him. It doesn’t change my mind, of course. But he always played these silly pranks on his friends that I considered childish and annoying. I’m glad there’s more to him than I believed.”
Saron regarded her thoughtfully. “I think your first impression of him was correct. What struck me as odd about our meeting is that he never once asked after you.”
Her father shook his head. “But we started our conversation by assuring him that Georgiana was returned unharmed.”
“Still, he asked no questions.” Saron turned to her. “Yours may not have been a betrothal forged in love, but you were to be his wife. You disappeared mere hours before your wedding. Even the wedding guests will be asking more questions than he did once they learn of your return. More important is the question of his honor. Had I been the intended bridegroom, I would have asked to see you if only to make certain for myself that you were not injured.”
Anabelle took his hand. “My love, who is to say how one might respond to such news? He might pay a call on Georgiana once he has had a chance to think matters through. Perhaps he believes she wants nothing more to do with him.”
Georgiana groaned. “Oh, dear. I ought to write to him at once. I was so caught up in my own circumstances that I didn’t consider how the ton might view our broken betrothal. I don’t wish to make him a laughingstock.”
Her father swallowed the last of his drink. “I’ll put in a good word for him.”
“So will Saron and I,” Anabelle said, arching an eyebrow at her husband as an obvious warning not to countermand her wishes. “There will be unpleasant gossip about you as well. Unfortunately, quite nasty rumors will abound. You were gone for two months. Society is not as forgiving to ladies as it is to gentlemen. Indeed, not forgiving at all.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. I won’t–” Georgiana stopped herself before she’d said too much. She meant to return to Lord Bloodaxe, but how could she explain it to her father? Negotiating an end to her and Oliver’s betrothal had sapped his strength. She could see that he’d lost his vigor and his hands were shaking.
How would he respond when she told him that she’d fallen in love with a demon, no matter that he’d once been Arik and was now a Dragon Lord? The news would kill him.
She’d only intended to spend a day or two before asking King Cadeyrn to return her to the Underworld, assuming he had the power to send her there. But she’d have to put those plans aside for now. Her father needed her and she couldn’t simply disappear mere days after showing up. “There’s time before the Season hits full stride to worry about the gossip and address it. Most families won’t return until late March or early April. Some even later. I’d rather return to Penrith, anyway. I have no desire to partake in the social whirl this Season.”
Her father reluctantly agreed. “I’ll engage additional footmen to guard you. You may have been abducted by mistake, but I won’t take the chance that it may happen again.”
Georgiana nodded.
How was she to tell her father?
Hiding the truth from him was despicable. But was telling him the truth any better? By the end of the day, she retired to her bedchamber and continued to mull her course of action. She decided to sleep on the matter, hoping that she would awaken with a plan in mind about how much to disclose to her father.
Georgiana was still contemplating her course of action the following morning, another bleary day, when the Wethersby butler interrupted her musings by knocking at the parlor door. “Lady Georgiana, a messenger just delivered this note. He is awaiting a reply.”
She took the offered envelope and saw that it was from Oliver. “Thank you, Hawkins. I’ll respond at once.”
She was pleased that Oliver had written to her.
Her father had retired to his study after breakfast, and she’d come into the parlor intending to write to Oliver as well. Instead, having trouble deciding what to say, she’d whiled away the hour simply staring out the window and watching the icy rain fall, hoping inspiration would soon strike.
It hadn’t.
“It’s quite ugly outside, Hawkins. Escort the messenger into the kitchen and ask Cook to offer him tea and a bite to eat. I’ll be done shortly.” Once alone, she went to her writing desk and withdrew her notepaper, quill, and inkpot before opening Oliver’s missive.
But once she’d read it, she knew her answer was simple. His mother had invited them to tea tomorrow afternoon and in his note, he pleaded with her to join them. He felt it was important that they break the news to his family together. He hoped it would soften the blow, for his parents thought quite highly of her and had looked forward to welcoming her into the family. If she were willing, he’d come around in his new phaeton and drive her to the Cranfield residence. It would give them a few minutes to talk in private beforehand.
His phaeton was not appropriate for cold weather, but Georgiana knew she’d be warm enough in her cloak, hat, and muff. Also, she’d be seated on the driver’s bench beside him for everyone to see, so there was no question of lack of propriety. The Cranfield residence was not far from here. It would be a short ride.
She wrote back her acceptance.
*
Bloodaxe sat with his captains on the dais of his dining hall merely picking at the roasted venison on his plate. Only a few days had passed since he’d last held Georgiana in his arms and already his ache for her was growing unbearable. But to show weakness in front of his soldiers was impossible.
“Lord Bloodaxe, is anything wrong?” his capable steward asked, offering to refill his goblet with the honey ale he’d probably imbibed too much of already.
“No, Thomas. Just thinking ahead to the next battle.” He hoped the explanation would appease anyone listening. His men had to remain disciplined and strong to fend off the constant raids and ambushes planned by Brihann. They had to know his mind was on those raids and not on the golden-haired girl he could not get out of his dreams.
“Very well, my lord.” Thomas refilled his cup and those of his captains as well. “But while you’re thinking, may I instruct the nymphs to begin their entertainment? Your men are growing restless.”
Bloodaxe shook his head and chuckled. “Aye, you are right as always. Now that their stomachs are full, I can see that they’re eager to satisfy their other appetites.” The castle nymphs were just as eager to oblige them. Better they attend to his men than seek his attention.
Although he hadn’t taken Georgiana as his dragon mate, he’d quickly found to his dismay that it made no difference. He could not rouse his desire for another. The beautiful nymphs who had nightly pleasured him no longer held any appeal.
The dragon in him would have none other than Georgiana to ever warm his bed.
One of the nymphs began to dance around him, rubbing her breasts against his shoulder. Charon growled at her and she hastily shifted her attention to his more appreciative young captain, Dalgwynn.
He patted Charon’s head.
His dogs were under the dining table, seated beside his feet.
“I know you miss her, too.” He tried to put Georgiana out of his mind while he returned his attention to the latest raiding party they’d just encountered. Brihann was tossing demons at him without much purpose other than to irk him. He was using them as little more than cannon fodder. Necros and Python, always his toadies, had their demon soldiers doing the same.
Dalgwynn and Artemis had each wiped out a raiding party earlier this evening and suffered no injuries among their men. Indeed, each had returned victorious from yet another foray. He’d congratulated his men and made certain they were met with a hearty meal and entertainments to keep their spirits high.
But he did not like this increase in tensions among the Dragon Lords. It did not bode well for maintaining the fragile order in the Underworld. Most who resided within the five realms were damaged souls and easily led astray. Brihann was intent on waging war on mankind, but by his actions was more likely to unleash a war here in the world of demons that would destroy them all.
“My lord, will you not have one of these nymphs?” Artemis asked, enjoying the companion who was rubbing herself across his lap.
He grunted and then turned away, having no interest in listening to those beautiful creatures sing or watching them dance to the delight of all in the dining hall. “Charon. Styx. Come.”
His dogs scrambled to their feet at his command. Before Georgiana, he would have taken no less than two nymphs upstairs with him. With his dogs growling at every one of them who dared approach, they all backed away and left him to himself. He smiled inwardly, amazed that his dogs seemed to have chosen Georgiana as well. “She has gotten to all of us,” he remarked, not surprised when both nodded.
It did not seem to matter that he’d returned her to the safety of the Fae king’s palace as innocent as she had come to him. Almost as innocent. He did not regret the intimacy they’d shared.
“My lord,” Thomas called out to him in a breathless rush just as he’d reached the stairs leading to his tower bedchamber and was about to climb them. One of his young scouts followed close on Thomas’ heels.
He acknowledged the scout. “Is something amiss?”
“I’m not certain, my lord. King Brihann’s soldiers are now amassing on our border, a force larger than a mere raiding party. We spotted some of their scouts near the river. They were watching the ferrymen bring across the new arrivals.”
“Blast it. Follow me.” He returned to the dining hall and summoned his captains. “Brihann means to attack those who have not yet the power to fight back.”
He noted the surprise of all three of his captains. These were fighting men and were as disgusted as he was by the targets Brihann was now choosing. “Where is the honor in that cowardly act?” Andronicus said, running a hand through his dark hair.
Artemis scoffed at him. “When has the High King ever shown honor? Brihann’s intent is to goad us and he will use any means necessary. He’s attacked us three times already this evening.”
Dalgwynn glanced longingly at the nymph who’d been most attentive to him in the dining hall. “I suppose she’ll have to wait.”
“Artemis and I will take this battle,” Bloodaxe said, feeling a surge of power flow through his body. He was eager for the clash of swords and already exhilarated by the thought of smashing his fists into the soft, frog-like bodies of Brihann’s demons.
“We’ll join you.” Andronicus frowned. “I lost my chance at redemption, and I’ll be damned if I allow Brihann to harm these new souls before they make their choice.”
Andronicus would remain damned whether or not he saved those helpless souls, but Bloodaxe did not point it out to him. Andronicus knew it anyway. “No, Artemis and I will protect them. You’re to take your men and position them along our border directly across from Brihann’s forces. Don’t engage unless they are about to strike. Then do whatever you must.”
“Dalgwynn, station your men near the Razor Cliffs. Do not allow Brihann’s demons to open the portal into Friar’s Crag. Same for Necros and Python. Those mindless toadies are always doing Brihann’s dirty work.”
His captains nodded, the gleam in their eyes evidencing their readiness for battle. But Bloodaxe doubted there would be significant fighting tonight. Amassing soldiers along the border and sending raiders to attack the newly arrived souls on his shore were merely feints by Brihann to lure them away from his true target.
Bloodaxe didn’t know what that true target was yet.
Perhaps there wasn’t one.
After dismissing his two captains, he gave instructions to Artemis who responded with a gravelly “Aye, my lord” and strode off to gather his soldiers and ride to the river.
Bloodaxe climbed to his parapet and emitted a roar that could be heard across his realm as he began to shift into a dragon. If Brihann wanted a fight, he was ready to give him one. He roared again as a lightning surge of power flowed through him and began to harden his flesh. Within moments, his limbs and torso were covered in scales as black as obsidian. His blood began to heat and he felt himself filling with a dragon rage. He snapped his whip-like tail and spread his mighty dragon wings to soar toward the red sky.
First, he circled his fortress to make certain no enemy approached, then he gave a mighty flap of his wings and began the hunt for Brihann’s demons. They would be easy to spot from his vantage point.
His blood was hot and thrumming.
The hunt.
He enjoyed the hunt.
He enjoyed the kill even better, for that’s what he was. A beast. A predator.
Don’t harm the defenseless souls.
He had to remind himself.
He had to think of Georgiana.
For now, the mere thought of her was enough to calm the dragon rage within him.
But the constant raids and his own counter raids would eventually wear him down. He and Brihann were playing a game of cat and mouse. By constantly attacking his lands, Brihann meant to bring out the darkest part of him, the savage part that hunted and killed.
So far, these were petty raids. Some fiercer perhaps than usual, but they were easily countered. He and his armies were always prepared.
Indeed, he could play these simple war games for centuries and never succumb to the darkness. Continuing these games for even half a century was all he needed to allow Georgiana to live out her life in peace.
The same for Saron.
They were all he cared about.
How long before Brihann realized his tactics were not working and came up with new ones?
He heard Brihann’s dragon roar in the distance.
Brihann himself? What did the mad Fae want now?
Truce, Lord Bloodaxe.
He much preferred this useless game of raiding each other’s lands. Allowing Brihann to draw near under the guise of peace was far more dangerous. He roared in response and flew toward him, carefully circling him. Why call a truce now?
I am ill and dying, Lord Bloodaxe. It is time for us to reconcile.
He’d heard it before. Reconcile and then pledge fealty to the High King. The moment he did so, Brihann would declare war on mankind. They’d be the two black dragons of prophecy, and together they’d conquer and extend their dominance over two worlds.
It was a mad quest that would lead to the destruction of the Underworld. Their demon armies might flood through the portals under cover of night and spill the blood of an unprepared population, but what would happen when the sun rose and burned these same demon armies to ashes? Not even the Dragon Lords were immune to the power of the sun.
Not even he, once an English duke’s son, was immune to its bright, burning light.
He’d tried to regain the ability to stand in sunshine.
He’d secretly tried for years, but it was lost for good. He could no longer move about in that glorious sunlight, that golden brightness as beautiful as Georgiana’s shining hair. He was a lord of darkness, now and forever.
What are your terms, Your Majesty?
Were Necros and Python so mindless that they could not see the obvious flaw in the plan?
They continued to circle each other, two black dragons silhouetted against the red sky. Python and Necros soon joined them, but did not approach too closely. They merely made their presence known and circled in the distance.
There was no sign of Mordain. Where was he?
Lord Bloodaxe, meet me by the Razor Cliffs. You and me alone. I’ll withdraw my armies, but you must withdraw yours as well.
He still didn’t trust Brihann.
He’d sent men to guard the portal at the Razor Cliffs, for it was the largest portal in the Underworld and opened within the red mountain known as Friar’s Crag. The Fae king had defended this spot within England’s Lake District for thousands of years. He would be on the alert and ready to battle any demons who came through its volcanic depths.
So why had Brihann chosen this location?
Any portal would have served his purpose with far less risk. Perhaps Brihann chose it knowing he would not agree to meet anywhere else.
Very well. I shall meet you here in a week’s time, Your Majesty.
Brihann roared his displeasure at the delay. Why not now?
Bloodaxe had no specific reason other than the fact that Brihann seemed too eager for them to meet now. It had to be a trick. If so, he needed to prepare his realm for the battles to come.
One week’s time, Lord Bloodaxe. I shall hold you to your word.
Bloodaxe did not bother to respond. Promises in the Underworld were meaningless. It took honor to uphold them and Brihann had never known the meaning of the word. The old bastard had broken their pact when he’d killed Gideon. Bloodaxe had never forgiven him for that foul deed and never would.
He circled Brihann once and then flew toward Necros and Python, slamming his body into them for no reason other than he was angry and they were mindless toadies. Python snapped his teeth at him and tried to bite him. He easily avoided the green dragon’s pitiful attempt.
Necros fell off balance and began to plummet to the ground. He regained his wings but not before bruising his big, yellow body on the prickly branches jutting from the treetops. We’ll have our revenge, Bloodaxe. Just you wait and see. You’ll be sorry.
Python ordered him to shut up.
Bloodaxe slammed into each of them again and then flew back to his fortress. They weren’t going to come after him. Not now, not ever. No, they were going to go after those he loved.
Georgiana and Saron.
Saron could defend himself, which meant they’d go after Georgiana first.
He had to stop them.