Dragon's Oath

“I don’t like violence, Bryan.”

“You think I do?” He shook his head and answered himself before she could. “I don’t! The reason I first picked up a sword was because I hate violence.” His shoulders slumped and he continued with an honesty so raw it was almost painful to hear. “I’m short. I used to be very short. Little, actually. So little I got picked on. I was the butt of jokes. I was ‘the Earl’s middle son who was wee and soft and blond like a lass.’” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t like to fight. I didn’t want to fight. But that didn’t matter. The violence came to me whether I wanted it or not. If I’d given up, given in to it—to them—I would have been broken and hurt and abused. You see, my father was not well liked, and his smallest son was thought to be his weakest link.” He paused and Anastasia could see it was hard for him to talk about this part of his past—hard for him to go back there. “Instead of being broken, I grew strong. I learned how to use a sword to stop the violence done against me. Yes, I was good at it. Yes, I got arrogant and have probably used my sword when I didn’t have to, especially before I was Marked. But the truth is that I prefer to stop violence rather than start it.” His sword- roughened palm was calloused and hard against her smoother one, and she felt that rough touch all through her body. “A Warrior is a protector, not a predator.”

“You live by violence,” she said, but even to her own ears her words sounded weak. “You become something else when you fight. You’ve said it; others have said it. You’re even named after it.”

“I am a dragon only when I have to be and I will always protect my own,” he said. “Try to believe that. Try to believe in me. Give us a chance, Anastasia.”

Her stomach butterflied as she recognized his words. The older version of him, that vampyre Warrior she’d known she could love, had said the very same thing to her—and he had called her “my own.”

“I will give us a chance,” she said slowly, “if you promise to remember that mercy is stronger than your sword.”

“I promise,” he said.

And then Anastasia surprised herself by leaning forward and kissing him on his lips. When she and Bryan parted they looked into each other’s eyes for a very long time, until he said, “After you cast the spell tonight, would you walk with me by the river, back to the meadow?”

“If you’ll protect me,” she said softly.

“I’ll always protect my own,” he repeated. Smiling, he tucked her arm through his and then clucked for the horses to get up and go.

Her arm was still tucked into his as they walked along the cobblestone-lined levee. Anastasia would usually have gazed at the steamboats, which were lined up, one after another, stretching all the way up and down this part of the river. As with some of the luxuries found at the House of Night, she wondered if she’d ever get used to the majesty of the steam-engine boats. They were such a drastic contrast to the city, which was dark and quiet at this late hour. The steamboats truly were floating palaces, still humming with activity, their gay chandeliers glowing, sounds of dancing girls and gamblers drifting over the water like magickal music. Usually her attention would have been occupied with peeking inside the mullioned windows.

But tonight Anastasia barely gave them a glance. Tonight she was completely distracted, and it wasn’t rehearsing the upcoming spell that was the problem. The peace spell was actually one of the simplest to cast. There were only two ingredients, lavender for calming, which would be muddled into a cup for burning by Anastasia’s favorite stone, an ajoite, the stone that had a turquoise phantom within its crystal depths and was always a conduit to peace and pure, loving energy. The spell was elementary: she muddled the lavender with the ajoite and then burned it over an earth candle as she spoke the ageless words of peace. It was easy, fast, and effective.

Then why did she feel so uneasy?

In the distance, over the sounds of revelry from the steamboats, she heard the distinct croaking call of a raven. Anastasia shivered.

“Are you cold?” Bryan pulled her closer to him. “Are you certain you don’t want me to carry your spellwork basket? I have before,” he said, smiling at her.

“I’m fine. And I have to carry the spellwork basket until after I cast the spell. I need to infuse it with my energy.” She smiled at him. “You can carry it back to the buggy.”

“Gladly,” he said.

They walked on, and Anastasia suddenly stopped, pulling him to a halt beside her. “No, that’s not entirely true. I’m not fine, and since you’re my protector, I should be honest with you. Something is wrong. I feel uneasy —afraid.”

He covered her hand with his. “You need not be afraid. I promise you that I am more than a match for any bullying human sheriff.” Bryan looked into her eyes. “Bullies haven’t threatened me for a very long time.”

“Is that confidence or arrogance speaking?”

“Both.” He smiled. “Come, let’s finish this so we can move on to better things tonight.” He pointed to a small park-like area just ahead of them and to their left. “The jailhouse is the square stone building on the other side of the town green.”

“Good, yes, let’s do get this done.” Anastasia hurried forward with Bryan, ignoring the dark feeling that had been shadowing her since the Council Meeting. It’s nerves, that’s all, she told herself. My House of Night is counting on me, and I’m being wooed by a charming fledgling. I just need to focus, ground myself, and do what I know I must.

“What is it you need me to do?” Bryan asked as they walked through the little park and approached the dour stone building.

“Actually, the less you do the better.” He looked at her quizzically and she explained. “Bryan, I know you’re here as my protector, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a swordsman. You represent the opposite of a peace spell.”

“But I–,” he began, but she stopped him. “Oh, I know your intention is good, peaceful even, but that doesn’t change your essence, your aura. It’s that of a Warrior.”

He grinned. She frowned.

“I didn’t mean that as a compliment,” she said, ignoring his grin. Then she studied the stone building as she reasoned through the steps of the spell aloud. “I’m going to place the candles and cast the circle around the jailhouse itself. The front faces the river, which means it faces east. That’s good. I would usually burn the lavender over the earth candle because I feel most closely allied to earth, but I want this spell to be carried throughout the city, so I’d already decided to use the air candle this time as a catalyst for the spell. I like that the entrance faces air in the east—it’s a good omen,” she said brightly, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of unease that simply would not leave her be.

“That sounds good—logical,” he said, nodding. “So, I’ll walk with you, but stay outside the circle?”

“No,” she said, already prodding around in her basket, being sure the small, brightly colored tea light candles she’d brought were in order. “Just stay here in the park.”

“But I won’t be able to see you when you’re on the rear and far sides of the building.”

“No, but you’ll be able to hear me,” she said absently, already beginning to ground herself and focus on the spell at hand.

“Anastasia, I don’t like that you’re going to be out of my sight.”

She glanced at him. “Bryan, this is a peace spell. From the moment I begin crushing the lavender, peace and calm will soothe from me. I know you’re here to look out for trouble, and I’m glad you are, but the truth is, it is very rare, almost unheard of, for a priestess to be attacked during the casting of a spell such as this.” Anastasia knew the words she was saying were true, but they felt wrong, as if some outside presence was weighing them and finding them lacking. She shook her head, more at herself than at Bryan. “No, you cannot follow me during the spell.”

“All right. I understand. I don’t like it, but I’ll stay here.” He pointed to a shadowy area at the edge of the park, well outside the meager gaslight illumination of the front of the jailhouse. “You know there is very little light around the building.”

She raised her brows at him, “Bryan, I’m a vampyre. I only need very little light, and it’s a good thing it’s so