“Very good, milady.” But before he went, the footman gave me another look, waiting just long enough for me to notice, which was a big mistake.
Herne noticed the hesitation, too. “Her Highness has given you instructions. You will follow them promptly or be relieved of your post.”
His bark threw a scare onto the footman, who promptly murmured a flustered “Yes, your lordship,” and rushed off toward the door again.
I wasn’t sure whether I was pleased that Herne had called him out for ignoring my command, or embarrassed by the fact that the footman had ignored me. Either way, my cheeks flared and I reached for my water goblet. As I held it up I noticed the mark on the stem of the glass. Waterford, another nod to Earth.
At that point, the door opened and the footman reappeared with Raven and Kipa in tow. We were all on our feet within seconds, welcoming them in. Raven looked positively radiant, dressed in a black fur coat over her corset and chiffon skirt. Her boots were thigh-high, and her hair was even more vibrant than it seemed to have been before. One of the Ante-Fae, she was definitely one of a kind. All the Ante-Fae were, each one differing from the rest in their powers and scope. They were the predecessors to the Dark and Light Fae courts, and while they weren’t as powerful as the gods, they were far tougher than most mortals—be they Fae or human. The Ante-Fae often lived to be over five thousand years. At around a hundred, Raven might as well be in her late teens.
But as they entered the room, I saw a woman behind them I didn’t recognize. There was something about her that felt familiar, though.
She was tall—over six feet—and sturdily built. Her hair flowed down to her thighs, a brilliant green that swirled around her as though it had a life of its own. Her forearms were tattooed with serpentine green dragons.
She, too, was wearing thigh-high boots, which ended inches below her shorts. Both her shorts and her tunic were made out of leather marred with scars, as though it had seen battle. Garters ran from her shorts to the top of her boots, and at her side hung a sheath, the gleaming silver hilt of the sword protruding from it.
“Raven, we didn’t expect you until later! And who is this?” I hurried over to give Raven a hug, and then turned to the woman standing by her. She was so sturdy and tall that I wondered if she might be half-ogre like Viktor.
Raven kissed me on the cheek. “Ember—I’m sorry, Lady Ember, I want you to meet someone we met in Pohjola when we were there. I’d like you to meet Storm. She’s a hedge dragon.”
Chapter Four
Everybody swiveled to stare at Storm, including me.
She didn’t flinch, just stood there, waiting. I gazed up into her eyes, trying to suss out her energy. I had met dragons—both good and nasty ones—yet Storm didn’t have the same energy to her. While she did feel serpentine, much like most dragons and snakes, there was something different about her.
I sensed in her the same magic that I sensed from storm clouds, and a tingle ran through my arms that made me think of the times I reached out to call down the lightning. In fact, as I gazed into her eyes, I could see small forks of light dancing across the pupils.
Her eyes were a deep emerald green, not quite as dark as my own. They were the color of leaves in the forest as sunlight splashed through the trees, and they danced with flecks of gold. Along with the bemused look on her face, I sensed a wariness, and I realized right then she didn’t trust any of us.
“Welcome to Caer Briar Shore, Storm,” I said, holding out my hand.
She stared at my fingers for a moment, then reached out cautiously. As my hand closed around hers the hair on my arms stood at attention, as though I had scuffed my feet across the carpet and built up a charge of static electricity.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice rich and deep. Her skin was alabaster, with the faintest hint of green running through it. When I looked closer, it was almost as though I could see scales racing up and down her arms, as though rippling beneath the flesh. I had never seen anything quite like it.
Herne couldn’t take his eyes off of her, although I felt it was more curiosity than anything else. After a moment, he said, “I’ve heard of hedge dragons, but I’ve never met one. Pardon me for staring, but…you aren’t in any form the same as your other Dragonkin—are you?”
She laughed, her voice rippling in a melodic wave. “Lord of the Hunt, Lady Ember, thank you for your hospitality. And no, we hedge dragons do not follow the same paths of our older Dragonkin. If you were to ask them about us, they would say we were no better than abominations. We have no love for our forebears.”
I straightened, identifying with the emotion behind her words. “Why would they say that?”
She stared at me for a moment, then said, “Pardon me, milady, but among your people, aren’t you also considered an abomination? At least, before you ascended to goddesshood?” Once again, her eyes flickered, her look bordering on amusement.
I nodded, considering. “True. I was considered a tralaeth, and—as such—an abomination who shouldn’t exist. So, what can we do for you?” I had so many questions, but it didn’t feel right to bombard her with them all at once. I glanced over at Raven, who gave me a subtle nod.
“If you could manage a bed for a few nights… We found her in Pohjola when we were up there during a training session.” Raven looked at the footman, who had returned with three chairs. He placed them at the table, holding Raven’s chair for her, as she sat down.
As the footman moved around to help Storm with her chair, she sat down before he could get to her.
Kipa settled himself at the table, next to Raven. “We ran into Storm out in the wilderness. And trust me, when I say ‘wilderness,’ you’ve never seen a forest so dense as the one in Pohjola. The snows there are already five feet deep, up in the mountains, and they will only get worse. Storm was fighting one of Loviatar’s ice spiders, and those suckers are a good six feet wide, minus the leg span.”
Raven and I fought several massive spiders in the past, but I never heard of an ice spider. “That sounds horrible,” I said, turning to Storm. “Are they made of ice?”
Storm laughed again, and I realized I liked her laughter, which rang rich and trilling, and for some reason reminded me of a cat. “I wish. Then I could have shattered them. No, their venom paralyzes and freezes you at the same time. They don’t have to wrap you up in webbing because you’re frozen, and before long, hypothermia claims your life. They’re fast, and hard to see because they camouflage into the snow.”
I grimaced.
Kipa picked up the conversation. “That’s true. You know how the argiope spiders back on Earth can be striped and spotted? Think of something similar, only with a body that’s six feet wide. They’re black and white, so they camouflage among the birch trees. We sometimes find them down in Kalevala, but they are truly northern creatures.” He paused, then turned to Storm. “So you don’t have them up in the Forgotten Kingdom?”
She shook her head, her hair rippling along her arms. I found myself fascinated with everything about her. She felt so different, yet looked almost human. In a way she reminded me of the Amazons. Yet, there was a subtle sense of sensuality that seemed to flow through her curves and face. Both harsh and soft at the same time, she was a living juxtaposition.