Home > Books > The Becoming (The Dragon Heart Legacy #2)(139)

The Becoming (The Dragon Heart Legacy #2)(139)

Author:Nora Roberts

“Good, and I’m not sorry to say it. I hope it burned to the bone. The boy she struck and left, they brought him out of sleep, but they’re still not altogether sure he’ll be all right again.”

“Only evil can do that to another.” Finola poured more wine. “And whatever she believes she’ll have with Odran, in the end, more than her hand will burn.”

Then she smiled. “But our Breen’s back with us, and we’ve yet to hear her version of sealing the portal.”

“Punched Keegan good,” Aisling added.

“It was a fine punch, delivered with feeling.” Morena bit into another lemon biscuit. “And earned, I agree, though I have to give Keegan a bit of the slack, as it was an urgent matter, and moving quickly could have made the difference.”

“Which he explained to me after. If he’d told me all that before, I’d have … figured out something.”

“Men.” Morena cupped her chin in her hand. “So often a pain in the arse. Too often so bloody sure they know the best of things, so we have to take the time and trouble to show them they don’t.”

She cut her gaze to Marg. “You wouldn’t have another bottle of that bubbly wine, would you, darling?”

“I would. Let’s open it.”

* * *

Shana had the girl—she wouldn’t bother with the name—help her dress. It felt good, it felt right, to have someone wait on her, do her bidding without any need to placate and pretend.

She didn’t trust the girl with her hair, so she did it herself, leaving it long and loose, tucked up just a little over the ears to show off the jewels.

She chose a necklace, circles of diamonds close around her throat with a fat sapphire, another teardrop, she felt went well with the earrings.

She wanted to go out, to see more, but when she’d stepped onto her terrace, she’d seen dogs—demon dogs—stalking the rocky island below, the jagged cliffs across the water.

So she waited, and waiting, grew bored. After boredom came irritation. She started for the door—she’d stay inside, surely the dogs weren’t allowed to roam at will inside—when the knock came.

She squared her shoulders. “Come.”

Not the girl this time, but two males. Sidhe, she sensed, with hard eyes in hard faces.

“Come with us.”

She didn’t like the tone. “Where?”

“Odran sends for you. You will not keep him waiting.”

She angled her head, inclined it, and walked to them.

In the corridor they flanked her, but she didn’t mind. The black glass walls intrigued her, and she admired the way the torch-and candlelight played off them.

So much more impressive than the dull stone of the castle in the Capital.

She followed them down wide stairs that turned from black to gold as she stepped on them. Delighted, she tried to look everywhere.

Jewels sparkled in the black glass; grand windows let in the sun and the roar of the sea.

Statues of satyrs and centaurs and sirens stood on pedestals. She gasped when a gargoyle hissed from its perch, and scrambled away.

They descended to a great entrance hall, where the mosaic floor depicted Odran—she’d seen likenesses in books—in black robes with a globe—no, she realized, a world—held in each hand.

And under his feet, the littered, bloodied bodies of those he’d conquered.

It frightened and thrilled her all at once.

Two others stood in black breastplates by closed doors. Elves, like her, they held spears with keen points.

The doors opened as she approached, and her escort stopped just inside.

A throne room, she thought, and as grand as any could imagine, with those black glass walls glinting with crystals and gems, the floor gleaming gold. Light streamed in to sparkle on the throne, gold like the floors, and the one who sat upon it.

His hair, gold as well, spilled over his shoulders and framed a face so handsome it all but stole her breath. His eyes, smoke gray, watched her approach.

Beneath her skirts her knees trembled.

But his lips curved, and he beckoned.

He wore black, pants fitted to his long legs, a tunic belted with jewels that caught the light.

He sat at his ease and waited.

Yseult stood at his side. She wore deep green flowing skirts, with a snug bodice threaded with gold.

A beauty, Shana thought, but old. And past time to be replaced.

She would not stand at Odran’s side when it was done, but sit in a throne beside his.

Shana looked him in the eye, smiled in return. And lowered into a deep curtsy.