Brothers of Ash and Fire

Chapter 1-1

Sleeping on a dragon’s hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself.

Sleeping on a dragon’s hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself.Sleeping on a dragon’s hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself.―C. S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

―C. S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader―The Voyage of the Dawn TreaderEngland, September 1559

England, September 1559The halls of Hampton Court Palace were quiet so close to midnight. There was no sound of laughter from the courtiers, not even the hushed murmurs of gentlemen luring young maids into dark corners for secret kisses. The tapestries lining the stone walls rippled faintly with the breeze that slipped in through half-open windows.

Mikhail Barinov adjusted his black-and-gold doublet as he walked in light, quiet steps toward a bedchamber door. He ignored the prickle of unease he felt at the silence cloaking him as he saw a guard ahead. The man was posted outside the door, his hand resting on the pommel of a lethal-looking blade that Mikhail wasn’t the least bit afraid of. He was, after all, not human. He was a dragon shifter, and there had been no human yet who had been able to do him harm.

“Halt!” the guard growled. Mikhail was close enough to see the whites of the other man’s eyes in the flickering light of the wall sconces.

He raised his hands, showing his empty palms before he offered a slight courtly bow. “My name is Mikhail Barinov. Her Majesty requested my presence.” When the guard relaxed, Mikhail removed a small bit of parchment from his doublet and handed it to the man.

The guard scowled as he stared at it. The odds that the man could even read were small, not that he would admit such a thing. But the royal seal of Queen Elizabeth was visible on the paper, and the guard recognized it at once.

“Wait here.” The guard rapped his knuckles on the door behind him, then disappeared into the queen’s antechamber. A minute later he reappeared, flustered as he pushed the heavy oak door wide, allowing Mikhail to enter. He nodded at the guard and stepped into the antechamber.

A soft voice rose from a chair beside the fire. “Well now. I was worried you might not come.” The woman leaned forward in her chair, allowing the light and shadows of the flames to dance upon her. Her long reddish-gold hair was unbound and cascaded over her shoulders in ripples of fire.

Mikhail swallowed hard as a bolt of desire shot through him. Queen Elizabeth, the newly anointed monarch, wasn’t a traditional beauty with delicate elfin features. Rather, there was a cunning curve to her lips and a keen sharpness to her eyes that warned a man she was not some wilting flower, but his equal. He found it enticing.

“I would not refuse my queen’s summons,” Mikhail said as he drew closer.

“Am I your queen?” As she rose from her chair, he caught a glimpse of her gown. The orange satin overskirt and the gold-and-silver embroidered bodice presented a tempting view of her breasts. She wore no ruffles or stiff collars tonight. She looked more like the twenty-five-year-old woman who had unexpectedly learned she was to become queen and not the cold, disciplined monarch she’d become.

“You are my queen,” Mikhail replied, his voice turning husky. The scent of her body lulled his inner dragon into a heady state of submission. He wanted to growl in pleasure and rub himself against her. She was untouched, the virgin queen, and Mikhail knew that was a dangerous thing to be around. A dragon was drawn to maidens; the purity in them was as bewitching as an uncut gemstone. Their scent alone could drive a dragon to sweet madness.

“Don’t you owe your loyalty to Ivan? Would you forsake your czar for me?” Elizabeth trailed pale, delicate fingers along the back of her chair, a coy smile upon her lips.

“The Barinov family makes alliances with whomever we please,” Mikhail said. He had traveled a long way from his home in Russia to come to the English court to arrange for a treaty with a clan of English dragons. He’d thought he would long for Russia, but in fact he did not miss his homeland. Not when he looked at this woman. England felt right, and Elizabeth… She was his true mate. And when a dragon mated, it was forever.

True mates were sacred, and from the moment he’d seen her, he’d known she was his, the one destiny had chosen for him. There could be no other. He’d answered her summons tonight to tell her what he really was and to offer her his heart and his love. He didn’t care that mating her would shorten his life immeasurably—all that mattered was being with her.

“Yes. The Barinov family. I was so curious when you arrived at court. The rumors I’ve heard are quite…interesting.” She came closer and reached up to brush the backs of her fingers along his jaw. His skin burned at her touch. Once they kissed, he would begin to bond with her so strongly that it could never be undone. His heart and hers would unite in a way that human lovers could only ever dream about.

“Rumors?” he replied, his eyes half-closed as he enjoyed her sensual caress. It made his inner dragon growl in pleasure.

“Hmmm… They say that you have an ink marking on your back, a mighty dragon that is said to move.” Her brown eyes were cool and impassive, but a hint of a smile lingered on her lips.

That sense of unease returned as he studied Elizabeth closely. His tattoo was the beast’s outward form when he was human. How could she know about that?

“I…” He hesitated. Was now the time to confess it all?

She ran a fingertip down his doublet to his stomach, making his abs quiver and tense. “Show me, Mikhail. Please your queen.” He’d wanted to show his true self to her for so long, and now the time had come. His heart raced as he accepted this moment, this unveiling of the truth to his intended mate.

He’d spent the last year in England and the last six months falling in love with England’s virgin queen. At last, he could show her his world. Watching her through hooded eyes, he slowly removed his doublet by unlacing the leather points and letting it drop. Then he removed his shirt, allowing Elizabeth to gaze at his bare chest.

Her dark eyes surveyed him with a possessive gleam, one he recognized all too well. He’d come to England on a quest for a fortune in jewels to take home to Russia. The moment he had collected his hoard, he had clutched a handful of gemstones in his hand for hours, watching them glint and sparkle in the firelight. Elizabeth was looking at him now as though he were a precious gem that she held in the palm of her hand.

“How beautiful you are.” She traced a pattern over his biceps before walking around to examine his back. The silk of her skirts whispered on the rug.

The gasp she gave made his muscles twitch. He could feel his dragon stirring inside, longing to reveal itself.

“It moves?” The queen’s voice was full of awe, and he smiled at the touch of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “Is it sorcery?” she asked in a whisper, almost too quiet for him to hear.

“Sorcery? No, it is something far more ancient, Your Majesty.” Now was the time to tell her what he really was and to ask her to join him in mating. His heart skittered in his chest, and he nearly laughed. He, an almost two-thousand-year-old dragon, was nervous.

“Ancient?” She circled back around to face him, and her cheeks glowed with a soft pink blush. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed faster.

“Yes. I wish to tell you what I am.” He should not be nervous or frightened, but he was. What if she wanted him no longer? After six months of secret courting, he could not stand the thought of being turned away, not when his dragon had decided she was worthy.

“What you are…” she said, echoing the words. “My dear Lord Barinov, I believe we should have a drink before we discuss our dark secrets.”

“A drink?” He watched in surprise as she brought him a goblet and took one of her own.

“’Tis mulled wine. I believe you’ll find it to your liking.” She took a sip of her glass, and he did the same. The wine was sweet with spices on his tongue, and he drank it greedily.

“You are what we believed long dead, aren’t you?” she asked.

Mikhail took another sip of his wine, wondering how best to answer.

“I am a dragon shifter. I have lived upon this earth for more than a thousand years. I am fully man and fully beast.” He waited, watching, hoping his announcement wouldn’t scare her.

“Two beings in one divine body.” She ran her hand over his chest again, a coy smile on her lips. “The church would have you burned at the stake if they were to discover such heresy.”

Mikhail chuckled. “I do not fear fire. It obeys my will.” He raised his hand and gestured to the nearest candle on the table closest to them. The flame winked out.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Such power…”

“And it is yours, my queen. As my mate, you would have the might of my people at your disposal.” He held his breath, afraid to tell her that if she became his mate, it would shorten his lifespan, but love was worth that sort of sacrifice.

“Is it true that dragons hoard jewels?” she asked suddenly, mischief glinting her eyes. She was breathing faster now, her breasts pressing tight against her corset, making it hard for him to think of anything but taking her to bed. He gulped down more wine, pleased that he was winning her over so easily.

“We love all things that glint and shine, my queen, whether they be jewels or the eyes of a pretty woman.” He grinned at her, feeling strangely relaxed and confident.

She set her glass down and then moved to the doorway that led to her bedchamber. She leaned against the doorjamb, her gown trailing behind her, the tiny diamonds on her sleeves winking at him.

“I believe we should find a much more suitable place to whisper our secrets.” And then she vanished into the darkness. Mikhail followed, his steps a tad heavy and his preternatural senses strangely dulled. By the time he reached the large canopy bed, he felt weak as a drakeling. Was this how it felt to claim one’s mate? To feel weak and giddy like a mortal man drunk on mead?

“Mikhail,” Elizabeth crooned as he collapsed onto the bed, his brain fuzzy. She leaned over him, and the distant candles from the table by the bed lit her face.

“My queen,” he sighed dreamily, wishing that he could lift his arms to pull her down for a kiss. Why was he so tired? It wasn’t like him.

“Where is your hoard of jewels, my love? I wish for you to share them with me.”