Kiss of Embers (The Dragon Lairds #5)

Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

FINN

“ A nybody home?”

My eyes flew open. I leapt from the bed, landing on my feet before the man outside the tent finished his sentence.

Struan and Zara were up just as quickly, their gazes on the tent’s opening. Zara yanked a sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her.

I pulled a knife from the nightstand beside the bed. “Who are you?” I demanded. “State your business.”

“Galen of House Baudelaire. I’m here to release you from prison.” He paused. “From the smell of it, seems like you’re pretty happy in there, though.”

Struan growled. Zara looked like she dearly wished for the floor to open beneath her.

I moved closer to the opening. “Come in. Hands up. One wrong move, witch, and I’ll return you to your house in a box.”

“A small one,” Struan grated.

Galen ducked through the flaps, his palms raised in a gesture of surrender. His lips twitched as he straightened. “An admirable threat, but I assure you that no one in my house would mourn.”

“You’re kidding,” Struan said flatly.

Zara stepped forward, looking like the definition of sex with whisker rashes on her neck and her hair tumbling down her back. “You said you’d release us from this prison. If you can do that, you’re the one who created the curse in the first place.”

Respect shone in Galen’s dark eyes. “You’ve studied witchcraft. Or at least read enough about it to know how it works.”

Struan moved to Zara’s shoulder. “She’s an alpha ,” he said in the same tone someone might use to say the pope or Beyoncé .

For a second, Galen looked nonplussed. “Uh…I know. I think everyone knows that, actually.”

“Did you set the curse?” Zara demanded.

“Yes. But as I said, I’m here to break it.” Galen looked at me, his face impassive. “Can I lower my hands, or are you still thinking about killing me?”

I went to the table, flipped a chair around, and pointed to it. “Sit. And start talking.”

Galen crossed to the chair. Flicking his barasta out of the way, he sat. “As you undoubtedly suspect,” he told Zara, “Brader Ashcroft paid me to sabotage you in the Games.”

Zara’s mouth tightened with obvious anger. “Go on.”

“I upheld my end of the bargain, creating the curse that tripped you up during the challenges.” He leaned forward, a commiserating note entering his tone. “It’s quite a complicated curse, to be honest. Really slick with the way it adjusts to the circumstances. That doppelganger was a clever bit of magic?—”

“We don’t give a shite,” I snapped. “Just get to the point.”

He sat back and folded his arms. When he spoke again, he addressed Zara in clipped tones. “Magic is transactional. Ashcroft paid for the curse fair and square. When I agreed to do the magic, however, I had no idea the dragons would show up and claim you as their female. My house won’t like me going back on my end of the deal, but disrupting a mate bond doesn’t sit right with me.”

Zara’s eyes softened. “You entered the Games to bring your fated mate back from the dead.”

Galen nodded. “I won’t keep a pair”—he slanted a look between me and Struan—“or trio apart. And I have no interest in making an enemy of Niall Balfour.”

Struan grunted. “Smart of you.”

“So, what happens now?” Zara asked Galen. She tightened her arms over the sheet, tension entering her face. “What’s going on with the Games? How long until the third challenge?”

“It’s starting now,” Galen said.

“What!”

Struan blurred as he streaked to Galen and grabbed the witch by the throat. “Why didn’t you say that the second you showed up?” he demanded, holding Galen’s feet off the ground.

Galen clawed at his hand. “Fuck…you…” He grunted, then burst through Struan, his body going transparent. In the most bizarre move I’d ever witnessed, Galen stepped from Struan’s back wholly intact. He brushed his barasta down, smoothing the thick fabric as if he walked through people every day.

Struan whirled around, slapping at himself like he just stumbled into a doorway of cobwebs. “What in the everloving fuck was that!” He pointed at Galen. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Galen rubbed his throat, his expression half fascinated, half repulsed. “Your spirit is like a golden retriever wrapped in a Doberman. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Struan lowered his hand. “Thank you.”

“Galen,” Zara said, drawing the witch’s attention. “We have to get to the third challenge.”

He nodded. “I can take you. As long as you’re okay traveling through fire.”

Struan scowled as he brushed at imaginary spiderwebs in his hair. “Well, I’m fucking not.”

“What about the second challenge?” Zara asked, swinging toward me. “None of us crossed the finish line.”

My heart sped up. “If Galen breaks the curse, I can channel us.”

“Not necessary,” he said. “The second the curse drops, you’ll return to the last place you stood before it seized you.”

“That was just before the finish line,” Zara said, excitement in her voice.

I looked at Galen. “And then you’ll take us to the third challenge?”

“I will. I have to go there anyway. I’m competing for the elixir too.”

Guilt gripped me. Struan and I needed that elixir—but so did Zara. The three of us had bonded in the most intimate way possible. All that remained was an official claiming, which had to be approved by King Cormac. But how could I ask him to sanction our mating if I failed to save his wife?

“Where is the third challenge?” Zara asked Galen.

“The Mountain of Karn. It’s an active volcano. The challenge is straightforward. Sprint to the top without falling into a lava flow. First one to the top wins.” He glanced at the tent’s opening. “If you three are coming, we need to hurry. I, uh, strongly suggest putting on some clothes.”

“We’re going,” Zara said. She gave Struan a sharp look. “Get over it, Struan.”

He stopped brushing at himself.

The witch smiled. “Then get dressed. And I’ll break the curse.”