Highland Dragon (The Treasure of Paragon #6) - Genevieve Jack Page 0,1
her face must be unrecognizable thanks to her injuries. With any luck, the hooded one would assume she was some wayward fairy set upon by thieves and would leave her to die.
“Is it you?” A low, deep voice came from a thicket of trees to the left.
“Sylas?” The stranger turned, and Sylas stepped into view, dropping his invisibility as if it were a blanket wrapped around his being. “Stars and lightning! Thank the goddess!”
He rushed forward and swept her into his arms, kissing the face under the hood. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I had to wait for that young fuckup at the gate to fall asleep.”
“I felt the tug on our bond and followed it here, but Hades if I knew exactly what it meant! How did you escape?”
“It’s too long of a story to tell you here. I’ve been hiding in the gardens for days. We need to go.” He took her hand and began to lead her away.
Aborella swallowed, fresh agony washing over her as a slight breeze irritated her wounds. She forced herself to remain silent. If Sylas recognized her, he’d cut off her head and feed her to the forest animals.
She was partially hidden behind the skirt of the stranger’s cape, but as the woman turned, the light of the moon drenched her pale skin.
Sylas pulled up short, his gaze locking on Aborella. “What in Hades is that, Dianthe?”
Dianthe. That was the stranger’s name. A fairy name. Interesting.
“I thought she was you!” Dianthe pointed a gloved hand toward the grave. “I thought that wicked mother of yours had tortured and buried you here as some sort of warning to us. Instead, I found her.”
“Who is she?”
“Definitely a fairy. Probably raped and tortured by Obsidian Guard scum and left here to die. They didn’t even make sure she was dead before they buried her. It’s… sick!”
Sylas was shaking his head. “We have to leave her. There’s nothing we can do.”
“Why?” The hood turned toward him, the gloved hands squeezing into fists. “I can heal her, Sylas. You know I can. If she’s survived this long, I can bring her through this. Fairies have unbelievable regenerative properties. If we can get her back to Everfield—”
“And how exactly do you suppose we do that?” He rubbed his eyes, his words tinged with exhaustion. “I’m lucky to be alive, woman! We’re risking everything by lingering here.”
Dianthe placed her gloved hands on her hips. Now Aborella wished she could speak. If she could make a sound, she’d protest going to Everfield. She’d been born there and was universally hated by its people. Even if the three of them could successfully avoid detection by the Obsidian Guard and make it to Everfield in one piece, the people there would surely execute her the second anyone recognized her.
“Fine,” Sylas whispered, pacing nervously. “But this is on you. She’s your responsibility.”
“When have I ever shirked my responsibility to you or anyone else?” Dianthe’s soft voice held a note of anger for the first time that night.
“Give me your cloak. It will make her easier to carry.”
Dianthe removed the red hood and began unfastening the buttons. Aborella had never seen a fairy like her. Her skin was the color of roasted cinnamon and shone like silk in the moonlight. Most fairies were born the color of flower petals—the darker the color, the more powerful the fairy. Dianthe’s deeply pigmented skin was highly unusual, and when she glanced in Aborella’s direction, another difference revealed itself. Most fairies had green eyes. Dianthe’s were the color of warm honey. She was beautiful but markedly strange, different from any fairy Aborella remembered from home.
The lights went out as Sylas tossed the cloak over Aborella’s body and face, wrapped her up, and scooped her into his arms. Nothing more was said. Aborella had neither strength nor voice to change her fate. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to it.
Chapter One
A world away from Paragon, in a place between places, Xavier, son of Eleanor and heir to the kingdom of Paragon, also woke to perpetual darkness. The scent of stale air, moldy stone, and the metallic tang of new blood assaulted his senses. Moans of pain echoed against unyielding stone walls. Someone was being tortured. Someone was always being tortured here.
His chest grew heavy with despair as the understanding of his predicament invaded his consciousness again. To be sure, there was nothing new about his reality. Rather, Xavier’s renewed anguish was caused by the intense and