Page 27 of Bride of the Black Dragon
“I don’t understand,” I say. “What do you mean by your Drake coming out?”
He sighs.
“All males of the Royal blood have a Drake inside them, as you know. It emerges when we Shift for the first time, taking dragon form.” He rolls his shoulders, wincing. “Legend says there used to be females with Drakes in them too, but none has been seen for over a hundred years.”
“So you turn into your Drake?” I ask, curious about the process. The idea of female Drakes I discount entirely—it seems like a mere fantasy. Conventional wisdom says a woman wouldn’t be strong enough to harbor a huge, fire-breathing beast inside her.
“It’s more like I let him out and join him in his form. We have two separate consciousnesses and yet we are merged. It’s…difficult to explain.”
“I think I understand,” I say. “So…your Drake was reluctant to come out?”
“He hadn’t made himself known yet—I hadn’t Shifted. Usually with a Royal male, the first Shift happens around eleven or twelve. I could feel him in me, but he wasn’t ready to come out.” He shrugs and then winces as the sponge I’m using brushes one of the raw wounds on his back. “Fuck!”
“Sorry.” I pull back hurriedly. “I think this is as clean as I can get it. Do you have any healing salve I can use? Or bandages?”
He shakes his head.
“That’s not necessary. My Drake will heal me from within, in a day or two. I’ll just be uncomfortable until then.”
“Then let me pat you dry. I swear, I’ll be gentle.” I rise to get a towel but I want him to keep talking. “So your Drake hadn’t come out yet when the kidnappers took you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “They took me up into the mountains to a cave and kept me tied hand and foot so I couldn’t do a damn thing to escape.” His voice is tight. “They sent a ransom letter to my parents. Of course they addressed it to my father, the King, but he’s been half senile for years and even before that, my mother led him around by his beard.” He gives a humorless laugh. “Or maybe by another part of his anatomy.”
“I see,” I say quietly. I can well believe that my Mother-in-law is running the show around here. No one in the Citadel dares to cross her, whereas the King, they mostly ignore.
“So they sent a ransom letter and they got a reply.” He shifts on the edge of the marble tub as I start to gently blot his wounded back dry, but doesn’t complain. “I remember nearly crying in relief because I was certain my parents were going to pay and that I would be home safe very soon.”
He falls silent for so long I have to prod him gently.
“But…they didn’t pay?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“No. My mother wrote back that the Royal family refused to treat with criminals or some such nonsense. It was a short note and very dry. But I knew it was real—when they showed it to me, I saw my mother’s signature and the Royal seal.”
“That’s awful!” I say indignantly. “How could she not pay to get you back?”
“She said later she was sure I could take care of myself,” he says dryly. “Only…I couldn’t. Not at that age. I hadn’t gotten my growth yet. And they had me tied, as I said. The kidnappers grew angry. They…”
He trails off and his shoulders tense.
“They…hurt you?” I ask in a hushed voice. Something tells me he needs to talk about this. This old wound is filled with poison and it’s been festering for years. It needs to be drained.
“They tortured me,” he says at last. It’s as though the words are dragged from him but at least he’s still speaking.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. I’m standing behind him, the bloody towel clutched in my hands, as he sits on the edge of the tub. He’s turned to one side so I can reach his back. I can’t see his face, but I can hear the pain in his voice.
“They cut me—first they just wanted to draw my blood so they could smear some on another ransom letter, which they sent to my parents,” he says. “I was sure that would make them pay the ransom…but no.” He gives a bitter laugh. “My mother sent back the same reply—the Royal family doesn’t treat with criminals. That…made the kidnappers angry. So they began torturing me for fun.”
“What…what did they do?” I whisper faintly. I don’t really want to know, but again, I get the feeling he needs to tell me.
“Cut me, mostly. They cut off one of my ears to see if it would grow back. It did. My Drake is capable of that. They sent it to my mother—not that it changed her mind.”
I suck in a breath.
“Oh my Goddess of Mercy!”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” he says dryly. “That wasn’t nearly the worst thing they did. They tried to take my eye, too.”
