She was my mate. She was mine to protect. And I had failed her because of some silly piece of jewelry that had been delivered to me. I had let my memories of my father override the need to protect my mate. Arthur had the Heart in his possession for 10 years – who knew how many layers of magic he had wrapped it in over that period of time? And yet I hadn't thought. Just as he'd expected.
Anabelle. Anabelle. Anabelle. She was so clever, so quick to laugh. Like the tinkling of bells. I would give anything to hear her laughter again. To feel her warm body next to mine. Not the cold, frozen thing she had become.
I knew she was in there, somewhere. That quick, clever mind had to be active. I roared, venting my heartbreaking pain at the thought of her being trapped in her frozen body. For who knew how long? I was sure Arthur intended for her to exist that way for all eternity.
And what of the child? My child. Our child. How could a child grow inside a body that was frozen? The priests had promised to return within hours, bearing potions and tonics to pour down Anabelle's throat in the hopes of nourishing both her and the child within her.
"However," they warned, "there is only so long that this will be an effective measure. We have never seen such a case, after all, so we cannot make any guarantees as to how long it will work. A child cannot grow for long in such conditions, and there is no telling how the Queen's condition may progress." I had told them that I understood, and I did.
I roared, the sound echoing the roar in my head and my heart. How had I been so easily fooled? Now, of course, the double meaning of Arthur's words was obvious, but I should have been able to see through the words at the time they were spoken. A King had to be wiser, more easily able to see to the truth of a matter. Why had I so readily accepted the Heart? Why did I not see that there was a deeper meaning to Arthur returning it at that very time? It was not merely a warning, or a threat.
He had tried to take my heart, I thought as I soared high above the lush green fields and rolling hills. Not only Anabelle, but our child. Did he know, somehow? Was he aware of the presence of yet another dragon in the world? Because now that the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place, I was certain that the baby inside my mate was indeed a male, and a dragon. Or else why would Arthur find it so necessary to kill Anabelle? It was obvious that he did not intend to leave her merely sleeping, or else her's would not have been one of the shapes seen in the flames that day.
What did he plan? For me to watch as my mate slowly died in front of me? I imagined sitting by, helpless, as her skin grew even colder. Her heartbeat would slow. The child would, inevitably, die inside her. And all the while, she would be trapped inside her frozen body, perfectly aware of what was happening to her and around her. Unable to speak, or move. That keen, bright mind trapped. The very thought made me feel ill, and left me more angry and heartbroken and dismayed than any other.
Suddenly Morgan flew around me and came up before me. I sensed his concerns; he had warned me, before we shifted, that once we flew outside the boundaries of the protection spell Gaeth had created it may be possible for Arthur to read my thoughts. I had to be on my guard against revealing our plans. I also had to guard myself against giving him too much insight into my grief-stricken state of mind.
I had already done that, of course. If Arthur was somehow reading my thoughts or feelings, he would know by now that this blow had struck me to the heart. As he had intended.
Then my mind hardened. The dragon side of my nature overtook the grieving husband, and I roared in furious rage.
I focused all of my power on sending a message to Arthur. I willed my thoughts to flow in his direction, whatever that direction might be. He needed to know that he hadn't broken me. He had strengthened my resolve to destroy him, instead. And destroy him I would, if it was the last thing I ever did.
If you want me, come, I thought. Have the courage to face the dragon.
CHAPTER NINE
He was coming.
Both Gaeth and Syeira had felt a distinct surge in dark power and felt that it was moving ever closer to the kingdom. Black and green storm clouds roiled overhead, bolts of lightning jumping from one to another. Occasionally those bolts touched down and set thatched roofs aflame, or haystacks, or entire fields full of crops. Several ancient trees were split in two. I received regular reports from both of them, as well as from my counselors and from Morgan, who was overseeing the progress of the troops.
I spent every spare minute at Anabelle's side. Though I knew I must prepare myself to fight, I couldn't tear myself from her side. I left the preparations to those in a better state of mind to oversee them. I could not keep thoughts of my Queen out of the forefront of my mind for long, and could hardly concentrate on the reports I was given.
I understood that Syeira had found guidance in the many ancient scrolls she consulted, which aided in the development of enchantments which she placed upon the weapons which would be used by the troops as they battled Arthur's unholy army. The swords, shields and armor were protected and given the powers that would enable them to destroy the souls they were used to battle.
"Even this, I'm afraid," Syeira told me, "will not leave your men invulnerable. However, it will improve their chances of victory. Otherwise, there is little way to destroy that which is already dead. I am confident that everything which can be done, has been done."
I was deeply grateful to the gypsy Queen for all of her assistance, and expressed that gratitude. She smiled kindly, and took my hands in her own. "I wish, Your Highness," she said sadly, "that there was a way to help your fair Queen. Only I have not seen any hint of a solution anywhere, no matter the amount of time I spend reading or in meditation. Normally I can feel a solution to a spell when I focus my powers on the intention. But this magic … " she trailed off.
I understood all too well, and told her so. "The magic behind this curse is ancient, I know," I replied. "And the intentions behind it murderous and destructive in their intent. I am aware of how impenetrable this curse appears to be."
"Then you know what must be done in order to break the curse," Syeira said, her husky voice resonant with emotion. "In order to destroy the magic and break the curse, you must destroy Arthur."
"That is why our energy is being focused in this direction," I said.
"And you know that you are the one who must defeat him," she added. I nodded.
"I do. And even if this were not the case, I would insist upon doing it myself."
Gaeth entered Syeira's tent as I spoke those words. "My King," he murmured, "I must speak, even if it means offending you."
I was past the point of offense, and waved away his apprehensions.
"That murderous determination is what Arthur counts upon. He knows that you will have been pushed to the edge prior to your battle with him. He wants your emotion to override your sense, so you'll be left vulnerable."
"I'm aware of this," I told him. "This is why he chose to attack Anabelle before he attacked me. To take away my courage and power."
"Yes – but it's still important to remember that you must control your rage. Uncontrolled rage makes a warrior careless. He attacks without strategy. This is what Arthur expects from you, and if you do not find a way to focus your rage he will be successful in defeating you."
I left Syeira's tent shortly thereafter. As I walked through the tents and dwellings inhabited by the troops and gypsies – I had bade Syeira's tribe make camp within the walls surrounding the palace so as to fall under the protection of Gaeth's magic – I was lost in thought.
I remembered words similar to the ones Gaeth had spoken. They had been delivered to me by my father immediately after my 12th birthday, when I first shifted into the dragon.
I remembered that first shift well. I was filled with a potent mixture of exhilaration, power and fear. I had never felt a rush of euphoria matching that which flooded my every vein and muscle when I first took to the sky. I felt wild and untamed, as though nothing and no one could touch me.
I remember shifting back to my human form, and my cocksure stride around the palace. I felt like a man. Woe to he who dared challenge me, I thought at the time. He would feel the full extent of my power and fire.
At the same time, the fear was there. If anything, the fear was what spurred the arrogance. I wished to cover up, even within myself, the fact that I was terrified of the power I embodied. I had heard of it. I had been taught the ancient legends of the Celtic dragons from the time I was old enough to remember the tales. They were just as much a part of my upbringing as were learning to read and write. But all of the teaching and explanation in the world was nothing in the face of the reality of my first shift into that other form. I was overwhelmed, out of control.