Dragonborn (The Jade Lee Romantic Fantasies, Book 1) (25 page)

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Why do you sleep?

Natiya woke with a start. She winced as her back protested; she'd fallen asleep on the cushions near the window rather than in her bed, and with the extra weight of the dragon egg she felt fat, unwieldy and just plain annoyed.

"What do you want?" she groused to the egg.

Why do you sleep? There is so much more to learn.

Natiya sighed. At times the egg could be relentless in its quest for more information, more stimulation. More, more, more. Just when Natiya felt she needed less. Less confusion. Less doubt. And certainly less of this annoyingly huge bulk the egg created on her body.

"You've grown again," she grumbled at the fist-sized jewel in her belly.

The Copper feeds me power.

"Have you found out any answers?" she asked it. The moment she'd returned to her room this evening, she had begun questioning her egg. Unfortunately, it had only reflected back her own confusion. It thought there might be a purpose to the bonding, but it didn't know what. It maybe saw dragon-magnified paranoia in all of Dag Racho's actions, but maybe not. It didn't know, and so in disgust Natiya had sat on the window seat and tried to think. Sleep had claimed her instead.

Do not sleep again. We have to learn. Are there more books?

Perhaps, she thought back. This was the palace, after all. Wasn't there an entire library here somewhere? She pushed to her feet. She would have to be quiet, assuming the Emperor truly did sleep on the other side of the bathing chamber. After a minimum toilette, she tiptoed to her door and peered through the latticework. As expected, two guards remained against the door. They seemed alert, more's the pity, despite the late hour. But they were male, and since she had seen more than one pregnant former dancer, she had an idea exactly how to get just about anything she wanted.

"My lady!" one of the guards exclaimed, while both straightened to attention. "Is something amiss?"

She pulled open the door, abruptly thrusting her swollen stomach forward to exaggerate her bulk while simultaneously pressing a hand to her lower back. Then she waddled. It was a hideous movement, awkward and hard on the knees, but to the young men before her, it only meant one thing: cranky pregnant woman.

"Of course there's something wrong! I'm the size of a house, my feet are swollen, my head aches, and that flea-bitten mattress is lumpier than a rock quarry." Despite the vehemence of her complaints, she kept her voice low and raspy, as if her throat was hoarse from screaming. She was still desperately aware of the Emperor's bedroom nearby. "I need food. And a tonic. Now."

"Of course," the first guard answered, and bowed deeply before her. "I will get something immediately—"

"No, no!" she snapped. "Don't be an idiot. Do you know what foods I need to eat? What herbs turn my stomach? What smells?" She waved her hand in front of her nose and turned away from the second guard as if he had not bathed. He hadn't, of course, which made it an easier performance. "You." She pointed at him. "Back away. You foul the air." Then she turned to the first guard. "You. Show me the way to the library."

The smelly guard hastily jumped back while the other guard bowed. "My apologies, my lady, but if you would just tell me what food—"

She stepped forward, using her belly to shove him out of the way. He scrambled backward quickly, but she had been fast enough; she had managed to touch him, and immediately gasped in pretended pain, crumpling against the wall. Both guards rushed to assist her, but she batted their hands away with all the violence she dared. "Don't touch me!" she hissed. "You have hurt me on purpose! What's your name? I'm going to tell the Emperor! Ohhh!"

Then, just to cap the performance, she began to cry. She hated how pitiful and childish she sounded. Indeed, if anyone at home saw her, they would howl with laughter. This was not how she behaved. Ever. But these poor guards didn't know that. And so they fell over themselves trying to think of a way to help.

She sobbed unhappily. "Give me a cloth, buffoon!"

They did, and she blew her nose, then threw it at them in petty anger. "Take this away. It stinks! Oooh, you think I'm fat and ugly and completely insane, don't you?"

They blinked stupidly at her. "Of course not, my lady—"

"Shut up! Just shut up! I know you do. Oh, I need something to read, something that will calm my nerves. That's all I want. Can't you please just take me to the library?"

"My lady, please." Guard One was practically on his knees before her, begging. "Please let us get a book for you."

She straightened, stamping her foot in impatience. "No! I want to pick it myself." Then she abruptly pointed at Guard Two. "You! Bring me some fruit. And soup. Hot soup. With anstou root in it. And you"—she pointed at Guard One—"you take me to the library."

"My lady," began the first guard. He spoke calmly, gently, indicating he was clearly a man used to dealing with irrational females. "The Emperor worries about your safety. It is dangerous to go about these hallways unprotected."

"Don't be ridiculous. Rachy and I already wandered about this evening." She sighed petulantly. "He said I could have anything I wanted. And I want a book! A good book. And I'm going to get one." She started stomping down the hallway—farther away from the Emperor's room. Both guards scrambled after her, but they couldn't stop her. After all, every time they came close, she complained of their smell. She wished she could summon up a good retch, but her stomach remained ridiculously empty.

"No," she suddenly snapped at Guard Two. "Your smell will foul my food. Don't you ever brush your teeth? You, show me the way to the libr—ow! Ow! Owwwww! Don't touch me! I'm all swollen, and everything hurts!"

She kept inching her way down the hall. If they tried to physically stop her, she simply crumpled in pain. She had enough achy muscles and swollen body parts to make this incredibly easy. Then she added a few irrational and contradictory demands, not to mention complaints that they hated her, and Guard One was all too willing to go get her food. Which left the other one—the one obviously unused to moody females—to lead the way while keeping ahead of her, supposedly to reduce his smell. She was fortunate that it was the middle of the night, otherwise there would be a much greater number of guards about. Plus, only the junior guards got night duty. That meant they were that much more nervous about waking their superiors.

Unfortunately, they weren't complete idiots. She had barely gotten down two flights of stairs before an older, obviously well-seasoned soldier appeared. She immediately dissolved into tears and whimpered that she wanted to go to the library. He rolled his eyes and agreed. Soon six guards accompanied her to a chamber filled to bursting with scrolls and tablets and ancient texts. Perfect!

Then the guards rousted a sleepy, ancient-looking librarian to help her: a man, of course, which made things even easier. She settled down with food to one side and all the books of the realm on the other—or so it seemed. Then she did her best to remember everything her parents had taught her about research. Unfortunately, it wasn't much. But what she did remember was that a true academic—or in this case, a true librarian—is never happier than when sharing his passion with another interested soul. And what interested her right then was history. Dag Racho's history. And just as she expected, the Emperor had a large enough ego to stock his private library full of his own self-importance.

She started with a child's text, as it was likely the fastest and easiest to read. It was also what the ancient librarian gave her. She read all about the dark days of the Dragon Wars, where one warlord after another fought to the near decimation of the land and population. Then a savior appeared. The picture showed a boy named Racho, a commoner and an orphan, digging through garbage to survive. Then one day two dragonlords were fighting overhead. Racho led a group of people into caves to protect them. And while he searched through the tunnels for food to share with everyone, he chanced upon a dragon clutch.

Only one egg lay in the clutch; all the others were dark, dead stones. But at that moment, the courageous boy took matters into his own hands. Vowing to protect the land and the people the dragonlords had forgotten, the boy incubated the egg. It took many years of hardship and deprivation, but in his struggles, the boy grew strong. In fact, the text suggested, he grew stronger, better and more understanding exactly because of his earlier deprivation. In the end, he arose on his glorious Copper dragon and in amazing battle after battle, he defeated and killed all the other dragonlords, thereby ushering in an era of peace and prosperity for all of Ragona.

Natiya struggled not to laugh at the obvious fabrication. To begin with, the Emperor himself had told her he was from a family of scholars and that he and his sister had found the eggs. She needed to dig deeper, but where? She sincerely doubted that Dag Racho would keep incriminating texts in his own library.

If only she knew what she was looking for. She continued to read, getting more and more advanced texts on the Emperor's battles, his early days of power and his later days of expansion. Thankfully, the egg was equally curious, equally insatiable, aiding her understanding when her reading skills failed her.

Until the Emperor himself walked in. "My dear," he drawled as he towered over her, "you need your sleep. Tell me you haven't been here all night."

Natiya had just taken a bite out of a huge reedfruit, and her gasp of surprise made the sticky purple juice dribble down her chin. She scrambled to clean herself even as the Emperor's booming laugh filled the large chamber. She glanced up at him, her face heating with embarrassment, and wondered if he had planned the timing just to make her appear foolish. In her years on the docks, she'd witnessed many such petty acts of cruelty, but there was nothing in Dag Racho's expression to indicate such meanness. Then again, his face tended to always look exactly as it did now: kindly, almost fatherly. Except when his gaze dropped to her full belly. Then she thought she caught a glimpse of hunger.

Or maybe it was just the shadows in the cavernous library. Natiya took a few moments to compose herself before smiling up at her Emperor, a slight challenge in her expression.

"I think you already know exactly how long I have been here, what I have eaten and which texts I have read."

His eyes widened a moment, and then his expression softened into a true smile. "I see you are clever. Excellent." Then his eyes became assessing as he settled into the chair across from her. "Tell me then, my clever Queen, what you have learned from these ancient tomes."

She glanced at the scattered stacks of parchment surrounding her, seeing the thin, weblike lettering cover the table that separated the two of them. Reaching through the piles, she pulled out the children's book with which she'd begun. Opening the pages to the colored picture of the young, sweet-faced orphan boy, she absently stroked his cheek while speaking.

"It would seem that you and these texts do not always agree," she said carefully. "Didn't you tell me you had parents and a sister?"

He nodded, and she could read nothing in the gesture. "Any other discrepancies?"

She almost laughed at that, but didn't dare push him too far. So she simply waved her hand over the entire table. "My lord, they are everywhere. Indeed, I am not sure any of these texts agree on anything. Take your sister, for example. She was definitely apparent in your early battles, fighting alongside you, though most do not label her blood kin. Then she simply disappears. Some say she was a myth; others that she died. Still others claim she flew off to parts unknown in search of conquest or fortune or simply a place to be at peace."

Dag Racho nodded, a sad smile on his face. "Many so-called scholars write what they want to be true, not what is truth. Others need to believe certain things just so they can sleep at night."

She nodded. "Your early years are fraught with bloodshed and terror such as I have never known."

"Such was the nature of those times." Then he grasped her hand, drawing her to her feet. "That is why you must rely on me for your information. I am the only one left who was alive during those times. I am the only one who knows the truth."

"But will you share it with me?" she countered, very sure he would not.

He shrugged, his expression a challenge. "That all depends on how quickly you learn." He raised her palm to his lips, blowing warm air across her skin before pressing a gentle kiss in the center. "And how much you please me."

She shivered; she could not help it. His touch still sent currents of power through her, and the heat he generated within her could easily be mistaken for passion. Indeed, she wondered if it was. After all, she only had her attraction to Kiril as comparison. Perhaps he had been infatuation, dragon magic as he called it, and Dag Racho was her true mate.

As if reading her thoughts, he stroked his palm down her belly. "You are still young, Natiya, so you question this passion between us." The egg responded to his touch, twisting within her, making her gasp. "I tell you it is rare. Extremely rare." He slowly released her, brushing his hand over her breasts before lifting her chin. "You must treasure what is between us, Natiya. Protect it, and I will fulfill your greatest desires." He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, touching the curve of her lips with his tongue.

As always, a current passed between them. But once he withdrew, the power faded; the tingle quickly died, leaving Natiya to wonder what exactly made Kiril's touch linger in her thoughts long after he was gone from her.