Master of Dragons Read Online Free Page A

me for saving your life,” she told him beneath her breath. “I
want them to welcome me as the mother of their first grandson. And whether they
do that with open arms or cold shoulders doesn’t really matter. I’ll have you,
my love, and I’ll have your baby, and there won’t be a damn thing your parents
can do about either.”
    The thought
cheered her. She had plenty of time to coax him into loving her. She had never
failed yet, with any man.
    “Thank you, Your
Highness,” Evelina said softly. “I mean . . . Marcus.”
    Sunlight flickered
through the over-arching boughs, forming ripples of gold that shone in Evelina’s
hair. She was dabbing her eyes with cold water. She had the loveliest face
Marcus had ever seen. His gaze went from her face to the splotches of blood on
her bodice and on her skirt and her chemise and the white skin of her neck. The
splotches had been fresh not many hours before. They had since smeared and
dried to an ugly reddish brown. Blood spots. Ven’s blood.
    Evelina hadn’t
killed him, though she had meant to. Of that Marcus had no doubt. Despite that,
Ven had risked the dragon’s ire to free them. He had urged Marcus to take care
of her. Maybe he had acted out of guilt. He had admitted to Marcus that he’d
tried to rape Evelina. Without Ven, they would be both dead now, or at least
back in the clutches of Grald.
    Marcus wondered
how he felt about Evelina. He thought perhaps he loved her. He remembered with
aching clarity the sight of her shapely legs when she’d kilted her skirts to
flee the monks. As he looked at her now, seated across from him, sometimes he
saw his brother’s blood and other times he saw the shadow that fell enticingly
between her full breasts.
    Evelina looked at
him as no other woman had ever before looked at him—adoring, loving, admiring.
Evelina had seen him work his magic and she had not been shocked or terrified.
And she had seen him work far more powerful magicks than changing dust motes
into fairies. He imagined his lips touching her soft lips, his hand cupping her
soft and heavy breasts, and he was filled with such burning desire that he had
to firmly banish such thoughts in order to keep his mind on their peril.
    Yet . . . yet . .
. even as he kissed her lips in his imaginings, he saw those lips twist into a
snarl of fury. He saw the hand that caressed him drive the knife into his
brother’s body. He saw the blood splatter onto her clothes and he saw her yank
the knife free and try to stab Ven again . . .
    Marcus came to a
sudden, stark understanding. There was something secret and unspoken between
Ven and Evelina, a truth that neither of them had shared with him. He’d heard
her side of the story He wanted, very much, to hear Ven’s. His brother had
tried to tell him. Marcus had jumped to conclusions and rebuffed him.
    And now it was too
late. Whatever had happened, Evelina wouldn’t tell him and Ven couldn’t, at
least not now. Perhaps, in time, Marcus would be able to contact his brother,
speak mind-to-mind, touch hand-to-hand, as they had done when they were little.
Now he didn’t dare go into the room inside his mind, the room where he could
eavesdrop on dragons’ thoughts and dreams. The room where he had first met his
brother long, long ago.
    The dragon was
waiting for him in that little room.
    And probably in
the cavern, as well.
    “I told you,”
Evelina was saying sharply, “I don’t want to end up in that horrible cave.”
    Marcus gave a
start. She had plucked the thoughts out of his head and spoken them aloud. “I
saw him there, that man they called Grald. I didn’t like the way he looked at
me. Please turn around, Marcus! Go the other way! I don’t want him to find me.”
    “I don’t think
that Grald will be in the cave. That explosion we heard—”
    “You don’t know
for certain he won’t be there,” Evelina pointed out, and her lower lip
quivered. “If we traveled south, we could spend a few days resting at a fine
inn . .