Dragon's Tribute Part 6

Her eyes p.r.i.c.kled with moisture. No lad of her village would ever have spoken thus. She folded her hand around the smooth hardness of the moonstone. "You were right," she said, rolling face down on the gra.s.s. "This is a new kind of adventure."

"And, as I said, only the beginning of many greater ones."

Chapter Six.

Over the next fortnight, she relearned the sounds of the alphabet and began to read. Virid's h.o.a.rd held almost no books in her native language. He explained to her that whenever people wrote anything of importance, they used Latin. Records were usually kept in French. He managed to unearth a few writings in the Saxon vernacular for her to practice with, such things as merchants' inventories and lists of village births and deaths. She didn't object to the dull, everyday subject matter, for it contained many of the words she would need for the message she planned to send. Whenever she was not exercising her wings and hunting, she spent most of her waking hours studying and prodding Virid to teach her faster.

"Why this obsession with letters and words?" he asked her one evening as she sat by the cave entrance taking advantage of the fading sunlight. "Put away your parchment and fly with me."

Rowena shrugged off his touch on her shoulder. "Later, after the moon rises. I don't want to waste what's left of the day."

He responded with a wordless hiss of annoyance.

"You told me dragons value wisdom. Don't you want me to learn?"

"Of course, but you need not learn all the wisdom of the world in one day, or even one week."

"No fear of that." She impatiently brushed her hair back from her forehead. She couldn't admit her real motive for cramming every possible hour with study. He certainly would not approve of her writing to her family. But she had to find out whether her little brother had fallen victim to the typhoid fever raging through the village. "What else am I supposed to do with my time? I can't stand day after day of idleness."

With his glittering eyes fixed on her, he said, "Have you truly been so discontented?"

"Not exactly discontented, but this life still feels strange to me. I have trouble resting with the same light coming from the walls every hour of the day and night. I'm tired of living on meat and fruit. I miss the other food I used to eat. I crave a loaf of bread with honey or a wedge of cheese. I even miss pease porridge. And, yes, sometimes I miss what you called the drudgery of ordinary work." The words tumbled out, even surprising herself. "And ale. I haven't had a mug of ale since you brought me here."

"Do you not prefer wine and mead?"

They often shared a few goblets of wine in the evenings, and she had developed a taste for the vintagesof Burgundy. "I like them well enough, but that doesn't stop me from craving more ordinary fare sometimes."

"You miss your human life," he said in a deadly quiet tone.

"What did you expect? You stole me away from my family and friends."

"Friends? They scorned your ancestry and delivered you up for sacrifice."

Scrambling to her feet with the parchment and quill clutched in one hand, she glared at him. "True enough, I didn't have many friends, and they turned out to be false or too afraid to speak up. But at least I had girls my own age to talk with and my parents and brothers to care for me." Would she actually return to that world if she could? Perhaps not, given the treatment she'd received from the neighbors she had known all her life. Yet she resented having the choice s.n.a.t.c.hed from her.

"I care for you. Do you not believe that yet?"

Rowena shoved past him into the cave and busied herself with putting the writing supplies away. "I believe you do in your own way. You care for me as your mate and the mother of your young." She touched her belly, more rounded than it had been a month earlier. "But it's not the same." She looked over her shoulder to find him hovering behind her. "Of course, I enjoyed our swiving, and I love taking dragon shape and flying with the wind. But I love my family, too."

"If you would cast away these human anxieties and regrets," he said, "you would attain happiness and freedom. You need to remain in woman shape only while you sleep, not the rest of the time. Embrace your dragon nature."

"And attain freedom?" She turned on him, with her hands on her hips. "I haven't noticed you giving me any of that yet. When I do take dragon form, you shadow every move I make. You want me to forget my family and my human life, yet you don't allow me a proper dragon life either."

"When you become strong enough to protect yourself-"

"Ballocks! That's only an excuse for not trusting me. You think if I got an occasional glimpse of home, I would leave you."

He flinched, as if the randomly flung accusation had struck the center of the target. "I simply desire your happiness, which you cannot have if you remain suspended between your two natures. Have you forgotten this?" Striding to the largest book chest, he pulled out the volume that contained the legend of St. George. He opened it to the gold-embossed picture of the knight standing over the prostrate dragon."This is what human folk would do to you if they could. Forget their puny lives and choose your true self."

"You want me to live as a dragon, yet you want to keep me penned here at your pleasure! Would a true she-dragon accept this treatment?"

He bared his teeth, sharply pointed even in human form. "A full-blooded she-dragon would never want to fraternize with humankind."

"A she-dragon's mate would trust her out of his sight, instead of a.s.suming she hadn't wit enough to be careful."

Virid gripped her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Woman, you try my patience!" With a long, hissing breath, he relaxed his grasp. "What do you want of me? Be warned, I will not tolerate any trespa.s.sing on human lands."

Rowena's heartbeat quickened. She struggled to keep triumph from showing on her face. "Prove your faith in me. Allow me some of the freedom you mentioned."

"How?"

"Let me fly alone for part of each day. I vow not to let any human eyes see me without your permission."

He studied her face as if searching for any hint of deception. "You make this promise freely?"

She nodded. "If you meet my condition. If you keep watching me every minute, I can't promise what I might do."

"Very well." He sighed and ran his hands down her arms in a slow caress to clasp her hands. "I accept your vow. When do you plan to enjoy your freedom?"

"I think I'll start now." Freeing her hands from his, she stripped off her gown and underlinen. She wanted to test his compliance with the bargain. At the same time, her behavior would a.s.sure him that she would keep her word. She didn't intend to break the vow. Her plan didn't involve having anyone see her.

When she launched herself from the ledge, Virid stood there as a man, watching her. That behavior struck her as a good omen. By not changing into his dragon shape, he seemed to be rea.s.suring her that he would not follow. Still, she would take no chances on her first couple of flights. She headed away from the inhabited region to fly over uncleared forest. Recalling her girlish daydream of living in the woods as an outlaw, like Maid Marian with Robin Hood, she wondered what it would be like to walkunder those venerable trees. Perhaps on some other day she could find out.

The setting sun tinged the horizon with violet and rose. Soaring higher, Rowena watched the crimson orb sink behind the hills while the blue of the sky faded into twilight. She scented moisture in the cool upper air. When she circled back toward the east, she saw clouds gathering. By the time she reached the cave, raindrops were spattering her scales. She opened her mouth to catch the windswept rain.

Sighting her approach, Viridiseffulgentissimus leaped from the ledge, shifting shape in midair. He flew around her, then paced her, wingtip to wingtip. "You returned."

"Did you seriously think I might not?" She wasn't sure whether she felt offended by his doubt or flattered by the concern it indicated.

He hesitated for several wing beats before answering. "I am not certain what I thought. I am grateful for your return." Instead of landing at the cave entrance, he swooped down to a nearby hilltop. Rowena followed him. When she settled to the ground and folded her wings, he wrapped his around her.

"Rowenaureadulcima. My treasure. I wish only to give you joy, delights you could never imagine in your former life. Like this." His serpentine tongue lapped raindrops from her neck. Shivering, she surrendered to the pleasure of his caresses. He chased the rivulets over her body until he had licked her from neck to tail-tip.

By then her tail was twitching with restlessness that coursed through her veins and settled between her rear legs. She spread them wide, and he circled behind her. His sinuous tongue lashed her slit. In this body she had no c.l.i.toris to form the center of her need. Instead, all the aching tightness settled deep inside her. He inserted his tongue into her sheath and rubbed in time with her frantic humping.

"Change," he ordered.

She melted into her human shape, still shaking with hunger for him. The sensation of his tongue whipping in and out of her while her body compressed from dragon to woman made her scream in mingled shock and excitement. On hands and knees, her fingernails gouging the turf, she arched her back to beg for deeper penetration. One of his claws trailed down her spine. The fiery track of its point sharpened her craving still more. His tongue-tip found a burning spot far inside her sheath and stroked it in time with the rocking of her hips. Ecstasy radiated from that spot to flood her entire body.

Limp, panting, she allowed him to roll her onto her back. He still held his dragon shape. She saw his stallion-like c.o.c.k jutting out.

He licked raindrops from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "When you have given birth, we can mate as dragons again. Iyearn for that."

"Turn into a man so I can pleasure you." Sitting up, she reached under his abdomen to cup his p.e.n.i.s, almost too big for her hand to fit around.

"No." He blew a puff of smoke that instantly turned to steam in the rain. "I want to spend in my true form." He lay down on his side, with his c.o.c.k engorged to a deep red.

She skimmed her palm over the taut flesh. "How?" Her sheath rippled in antic.i.p.ation, despite the impossibility of his entering her this way.

One of his forelegs curled around her to draw her close. She automatically opened her legs. The head of his p.e.n.i.s settled between her thighs, its round tip resting on her c.l.i.toris.

"Move," he ordered.

Bracing her legs against him, she slid up and down his shaft. Slowly at first, she savored the glide of his rigid flesh on her tight bud. With each cycle of upward and downward motion, she quivered with eagerness, and a groan rumbled in his chest. His claws held and guided her, clasping just tightly enough to p.r.i.c.k her skin without pain.

He urged her to a faster rhythm. She felt him swelling between her legs. The friction on her bud and between her folds of tender flesh sent the now-familiar waves of delight crashing over her. His body quaked with pa.s.sion, and the scalding heat of his seed flooded her. The sensation drove her to the edge all over again.

When she convulsed in her final delirium, he coiled around her and held her with all four limbs until her shudders died away. Torrents of rain drenched their entwined bodies.

Over the next few days, Rowena flew with Virid whenever he invited her. She also regularly flew by herself an hour or two, varying the time of day or night and the length of her absence. She wanted to be sure the dragon accepted her unpredictable flights and believed she would always come back without getting into trouble. Aside from the furtherance of her plan, she found that she enjoyed soaring alone in the moonlight even more than her daylight forays.

On rocky hillsides she practiced another skill she would need. She picked up small stones, ascended high into the air, and dropped them one by one onto the ground, aiming for targets she had scratched in theturf. At first her stones missed more often than they hit. Soon, though, her keen dragon eyes enabled her to learn how to hit her mark.

Her thoughts hadn't advanced beyond the prospect of communicating with her grandmother. If Harold was deathly ill or some other disaster had happened at home, what could Rowena do about it? She simply felt she had to know. It did occur to her that if she asked Virid's permission to visit her family, and he refused again, she could leave him. Did she want that? A chill gripped her insides at the thought. For one thing, deserting her mate would force her to bring up a mostly-dragon infant by herself. Yet, if that decision did eventually face her, she wanted to be prepared.

At heart she knew she could never live with her family again. Could she make a home for herself, though?

What about her idea of living in the deep woods? As a dragon, she wouldn't need shelter and would have no trouble obtaining food.

Although she had no serious plans to abandon Virid, she began to use part of her "free" hours exploring the forest. She quickly discovered the trees grew too densely for a winged monster to descend through their branches. Instead, she landed on the verge of the woods, changed shape, and walked in. After many weeks of not bothering with shoes, her feet did not suffer from walking bare-soled on the leaf-strewn loam. The towering trees cast such deep shade that it muted the late summer heat to moist coolness. Little underbrush grew beneath them, so nothing impeded her leisurely stroll. She marveled at their ma.s.sive trunks, like the pillars of a giant's hall.

About half an hour into the forest, she came upon a fallen tree. Vines covered its gigantic remains.

Kneeling down, she discovered a hollowed s.p.a.ce under it, almost like a miniature cave. Maybe some animal had denned there for a while. She considered crawling inside to check the size of the hole, but thoughts of beetles and spiders restrained her. Still, it might make a good hiding place to store things out of the weather. If she ever did feel compelled to leave Virid, she might want to have a few supplies stowed away.

Brushing dirt from her hands and knees, she turned back toward the edge of the forest. By exploring the countryside on her own, she had discovered that her dragon nature gave her a faultless sense of direction.

She had no doubt of her ability to find the dead tree again. Once clear of the woods, she resumed dragon shape and flew to the lair, where Viridiseffulgentissimus awaited, impatient for a shared hour of flight and frolic. Though he never said so, she got the impression that he felt uneasy about her solitary ventures, even if he trusted her to stay clear of human settlements. Apparently her partial independence troubled him. Well, let it. He had better learn she wouldn't be treated like a possession. In the following days, she began to acc.u.mulate a stash of items she thought she might need if she had to leave. A well-fed dragon, she had learned, slept long and hard. Her partial humanity meant that she often found herself awake while Virid slumbered. Although she wouldn't risk sneaking out of the lair at such times, because of his probable reaction if he did wake up and find her gone, she decided searching the boxes was safe enough. Her rummaging around the cave's chambers never seemed to disturb him.

She set aside a dagger with its sheath and belt, all wrapped in oiled cloth. With several layers of water-resistant cloth, the wrapping could easily hold several other small objects. In a stroke of luck, she later found a pouch of the same material. Between the two packages, she gradually tucked away several changes of clothes, a few quills and a vial of powdered ink, and a handful of coins. For outer clothing she chose men's breeches and tunics of green and russet. If she had to live in the forest, she couldn't do it gowned like a court lady. She also filched shoes and hose, as well as linen cloths and two shawls, in case she did find herself caring for a baby alone in the wilderness. Little by little, she cached the supplies in a small, empty side alcove, too cramped for Virid's dragon body. Since he had not been using it for storage so far, he would have no reason to go near it, even in human form.

Watching him sleep or lying curled up with him after love-play, she mused over her own actions. He called her his mate. Most of the time, she thought of herself that way. Yet she realized she did not consider herself wedded to the dragon as irrevocably as he did. If she shared his belief in their union, she would not be making plans for a future break that might or might not ever come to pa.s.s.

When she reached the stage where she felt confident of writing a letter that her grandmother could read, she debated how to deliver it without arousing Virid's suspicions. She didn't feel safe in relying on the depth of his sleep. Nor could she venture out while he was away hunting. If she made up some excuse not to fly with him, he would suspect ulterior motives when he returned and found she had left on her own.

Their evening flagon of wine suggested a possible solution to that problem. Virid often allowed her to draw their drinks from one of the casks. It would be a simple matter to add a dash of poppy syrup to his goblet. Did the drug work on dragons? And how much would she need to deepen his sleep? She could only try a dose at random. If it didn't work, she would have lost nothing, because Virid would have no reason to guess what she'd done.

She seized the opportunity that very day at twilight, while Virid disposed of the gnawed bones of a sheep they had devoured. During his last rest period she'd hidden one of the bottles of poppy syrup under her sleeping cushions. Since he left the tidying and replacing of the bed silks to her, he would not be likely to notice the bottle. She hurried to the rock shelf where she had already set out two flagons of differentdesign. After splashing a few drops of the drug into the cup she intended for Virid, she rushed to hide the bottle again. As she plumped the cushions back into place, she already heard his wings flapping at the portal.

By the time he slithered into the great hall, raindrops sliding off his scales, Rowena stood quietly with a cup in each hand. She hoped he couldn't hear the racing of her heart. "Let me draw some mead for you, and we'll drink by the fire." She nodded toward the fire pit where embers smoldered after the roasting of the sheep.

"Mead?" When he completed his shift to human form, he gave her a questioning stare. "You usually prefer wine."

"It's a wet evening. Mead seems best for this weather." She spoke with her back to him while she headed for the cask that held the honey beverage, afraid he would recognize deception on her face. In truth, she chose the sweet wine in hopes it would disguise any strange flavor. She filled his goblet, then her own, and carried them to the sleeping alcove where Virid reclined on the cushions.

She swirled the liquid in his flagon before handing it to him and taking a sip from hers. Over the rim of her cup, she watched him drink. Her anxious scrutiny detected no change in his expression when he tasted the mead.

"Why do you stare at me so intently, my love?"

"Do I?" A blush spread over her face and neck. How could she expect to get away with lying to him? "I never get tired of looking at you. You're beautiful." That statement, at least, was true. His emerald eyes and, in human shape, burnished olive skin with its delicate pattern of tiny scales still fascinated her. He was even more glorious, though in a grand and terrible way, as a dragon.

"Indeed? I cannot recall any other human female paying me that compliment," he said with a wide, sharp-toothed grin. "So are you, my treasure. Beautiful. Like gold and mother of pearl." He placed a fingertip in the hollow of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s just above the neckline of the silken shift she wore. After weeks of this cave-dwelling life, seldom exposed to sunlight except in dragon form, she had in fact noticed her skin losing its tan and becoming almost pale enough to be called "pearl."

She took a swallow of her mead. "Finish your drink. I don't want to become tipsy alone."

"Have you any special plans after you have intoxicated me? Not that I need anything but yourself to produce that effect." Cupping the back of her head, he nipped her earlobe, then nibbled his way along her jaw to her mouth. A gasp of antic.i.p.ation parted her lips for him. His tongue traced their outline,making her breath come quick and shallow. He tasted like honey.

His mention of "plans" cut into her excitement with a tremor of fear. Could he suspect? A second later, she realized guilt had led her thoughts astray, and the only plan he had in mind was seduction.

"Drink up," she said, forcing a teasing lilt into her voice, "and you'll find out." She drained her cup, suppressing a grimace at the sticky sweetness.

Virid followed her example. He put down his empty flagon, twined his fingers in her hair, and returned to feasting on her mouth. With a sigh of relief that he'd noticed nothing suspicious, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yielded to the pleasure of his kiss.

After long minutes of head-spinning delight, Virid pulled away from her. His palm skimmed her nipples through the cloth, but with no urgency. "Shall we rest first and carry out your plan when we awaken refreshed?" His eyes were heavy-lidded, his voice deep and slow.

"That would suit me well," Rowena said, although the fire in the pit of her stomach made her almost wish he would delay sleep long enough to quench it.

"Good night, then." With a final, light kiss, he withdrew to the treasure heap, where he shifted to dragon form and stretched out with eyes shut.

Chapter Seven.

She watched him, almost holding her breath, until twin curlicues of smoke from his nostrils signaled the rhythm of sleep. Anxiety doused any trace of l.u.s.t. When she was finally sure he wouldn't wake anytime soon, she got out her writing materials to pen the note to her grandmother. She knew only enough words to compose a simple message, but she needed nothing more. She wrote, "Grandmother: I am alive and well. Tell my parents if you think it safe. Are they well? Are my brothers well? Leave an answer under a rock by the tree of tribute, and I will get it. With love, Rowena."

She folded the paper and wrapped it in two layers, first of oiled wool, then of leather. Tying the package with a leather thong, she attached the bronze amulet to it. That talisman would prove to Grandmother that the note came from Rowena. She only hoped Virid would not notice the amulet's disappearance. Hehadn't taken any notice of it since the night she had arrived, and over the weeks it had become buried under shifting layers of coins. Its absence shouldn't be obvious.

She stripped off her shift and gathered up the packet as well as her bundles of hidden supplies. As long as she had the chance to sneak out, she might as well combine errands.

The rain was ending when she leaped into the air with the packages clutched in her claws. She first headed for the deep forest. Again she had to change shape in order to fit under the trees. Even as a woman, she retained enough of her newfound draconic directional sense to retrace her path straight to the fallen tree. She wedged her oilcloth-wrapped bundles as far into the hole as she could. Since she had not packed any food that could attract animals, she felt sure the cache would remain safe until she needed it, if ever.

That left only her message to deliver. She hurried to the edge of the woods as fast as she could to shapeshift and launch herself into the sky. She drove herself to the swiftest possible flight, her wings aching, her chest tight with the struggle for breath. With no way of knowing how long the poppy dose would affect the dragon, she didn't want to take chances with delay.

The moon peeping from behind the clouds helped her find the river that guided her to the village. She hoped its glow, although strong enough for her dragon eyes, would be too faint to allow a wakeful man or woman to spot her. When she reached her destination, she saw the glimmer of candlelight in only a few windows. Most houses were shuttered and dark, as they should be at this hour. Dawn came early in summer, and farmers had no reason to postpone much-needed sleep, especially on a wet night.