Dare to Defy (13 page)

Her words were interrupted as a large shadow blocked the sun behind her. Slowly she turned, mouth gaping open, to stare into the violet eyes of the largest man she had ever seen. She knew him. He was no longer a dream. Yet, in the reality of this world, he was immense and frightening.

“Draiken?” Daynel whispered, trembling. Silently, he nodded, his hand reaching to carefully scoop her out of the cart and into his arms. She felt like an infant in them, so tiny and powerless, and also safe. He was warm and hard, and she could feel his heartbeat next to her ear.

“Healer, meet me in my chambers. This one is mine.”

“Yes, Master,” the elderly man bowed, not meeting Draiken’s eyes.

“Fear not, beloved, you are safe now,” Draiken whispered, his hot breath causing shivers to travel the length of Daynel’s spine. He began the walk up the mountain path, holding her snugly as though she were a precious, fragile gift.

“Can you truly fly?” Daynel asked woozily, the pain from her fractured limbs overtaking her wits.

“I fly in your dreams, little one. Allow the dreams to take over. Give into the pain, sweet child,” Draiken said, seeing the struggle on her face. “Use it to enter through the Gates of the gods.”

Daynel felt herself slump into the blackness of the unconscious, her thoughts sipping at the fountains of a memory long forgotten.
Draiken was by her side, in his majestic glory with wings fully spread behind him. Ahead of them crouched a tiny creature, covered with sharp spines and hissing with anger.

“He is a child of pain. Lift him into your arms,” Draiken ordered. Without hesitating, Daynel obeyed, wincing as the sharp pins dug into the flesh of her right arm. The creature spread its wings, blowing fire on her limb in a demand to be released. With a loud yelp, she dropped it, rubbing the offended limb as the creature waddled away. Daynel looked to Draiken in confusion.

“You are not yet ready to embrace pain. Fear not, it will come in time.”

“Who are you?” Daynel asked, her mind floating between worlds.

“I am your guide, your protector, your priest…I am all you need to be complete. But you must release yourself completely to me before you can make the claim to being my mate.”

“But we already…I mean…”

“I took your innocence in the world of dreams, but still have yet to do so in the world of flesh. Now sleep, beloved. The days ahead of you will be difficult ones.”

Daynel felt her eyelids drooping, the agonizing pain to her arm unyielding even in sleep. Her leg also throbbed, but in a lesser degree. She felt something cool dripping between her teeth, followed by the numbing of her mouth and throat.

“No,” she whispered aloud. “No. I don’t want Sleepfeld.”

“Shhh, I have to set your arm and you need to be still,” a voice from outside her head stated. “The gods do not wish you to be healed immediately, so I must do my work.”

“No…please…” Daynel struggled, unable to call out when he aggressively pulled the broken bones apart from one another and then set them together again. He bound them firmly between two narrow planks of woods and wrapped strips of cloth around them to hold the planks in place. Satisfied with the splint, he proceeded to wrap the injured ankle in a similar brace. Daynel, in her drugged state, heard the instructions being left by the Healer, protesting them in silence since her mouth could not gather the ability to speak the words. She heard Draiken respond, announcing that he, alone, would care for all her needs.

“I don’t need a nursemaid,” she finally rasped out, barely audible if not for the stillness of the room several hours later.

Draiken sat next to a warm fire, reading. He looked up and walked to her side. “Did you say something, my love?”

“Not. Your. Love,” Daynel forced, her voice refusing to cooperate with her mind. For that reason alone, she loathed Sleepfeld. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”

“No? Then how are you to care for yourself while you heal?” Draiken lifted a dark eyebrow, having anticipated a stubborn response from the obstinate patient.

“I will manage,” Daynel croaked out, attempting to place herself in a sitting position. She groaned as pain slashed from her wrist and into her neck, and she clutched her injured arm with her free hand.

“I would be very interested to see how you shall do so. Please,” he stepped away from the bed, “demonstrate.”

Daynel glared in his direction, still unable to focus clearly. As Günter had always said, her stubborn nature outweighed her common sense, and she swung her legs to the edge of the bed and pushed herself to sit using her good arm. Chin high, she stood—and crumbled instantly to the floor.

Draiken squatted next to her, his expression more of amusement than concern. “Let me know when you are ready to ask for help. I will be right here.”

Daynel said nothing, chomping back the curse words that she so dearly wished to expel. She was certain that this man would not tolerate any true disrespect. His demeanor demanded nothing less than honor. Ruefully, she also realized that Günter and her father would fully approve of him as her mate. Well, he would have to be more than a handsome sight to win her heart, she decided. She relaxed her mind and imagined fire consuming the book he had been reading.

Draiken’s head snapped to where the flame suddenly erupted. He snapped his fingers and vanquished it, returning the book to its normal state. The frown that met Daynel’s eyes was one she would remember for eternity.

“Do not ever attempt to use the power on or around me again. The consequences will not be worth the inconvenience you cause me. Is this understood?”

“If you have so much power, why do you not just heal me?” Daynel said saucily, pressing her back against the frame of the bed and rubbing her aching leg.

“Because I wish you to learn dependence upon me. Your nature demands that trust must be earned, hence, I am taking this opportunity to do so.”

“You lie. You just wish to keep me captive. You are no better than Ethan!”

Draiken stood and stepped back, spreading his hands. Daynel yelped as she felt her body lifted from the floor and suspended in mid-air. Her limbs felt as though they were held firmly by dozens of hands, disabling her ability to flail.

“Do you wish to call me a liar again, beloved?” Draiken asked, twisting his finger. Daynel released another squeak as she was turned to face the floor and her body was bent in half, forcing her tiny bottom to protrude the highest. Invisible hands peeled the cotton undergarments from her, exposing her naked backside to Draiken’s watchful eyes.

“Nooo! Stop this humiliation! I command you!” Daynel yelled out, only able to move her head and clench the cheeks of her bare bottom. Draiken reached up, running his large hand over her flesh as he continued to look into her stricken face.

“You command me? No, beloved, I am your lord now. And this,” he smacked his hand soundly against the center of her bottom, “belongs to me to either pleasure or,”
smack
“punish. As of this moment,”
smack!
“it appears that”
smack!
smack!
“a lesson in humility is required.”

“Let me down, you brute!” Daynel wailed, feeling the impact of his giant hand upon her tender flesh. That hand seemed to grow impossibly larger with each stroke, covering the entirety of her bottom without the need to alternate sides. It also seemed to grow impossibly hard, feeling like it was made of unbreakable wood. The clap of the impact made her believe that, indeed, it was!

“Ah, but this is where you must learn. I need not admonish you myself.” He stood away from her, tilting his head as another resounding smack covered her bottom, yielded from an unseen hand. “Nor do I need to continue in this method. You see,” he sat with his book, opening it to where he had left off, “I know how to make my power work for me.”

Daynel screeched as a switch-like sensation whipped against her bottom, followed by five more lashes, and another two smacks of the wooden hand. She yelled out, fighting back her tears, demanding her release her from her suspended state. She proclaimed her royal title and ordered that he initiate treating her as due her station. Draiken glanced up from his book, unimpressed.

“Pulling rank? My, my, but you are a slow learner. I will go get you something to eat. Think about your words while I am gone.”

Daynel screamed angrily as he departed, leaving her hanging suspended in midair, and being struck by either the switch or the wooden hand each time an inappropriate word or thought crossed either her lips or her mind. Exhausted from the pain of her injuries, her useless struggles, and the unrelenting discipline upon her poor bottom, Daynel finally ceased her fight and let her mind become silent as tears cascaded down her face.

Draiken entered the room shortly and, after placing a tray laden with food down upon a table, stood before her. Placing his hands on either side of her face, he gently kissed her lips.

“Have you learned anything today, darling?”

“Besides the fact that you are a big, bossy, brute?” Daynel asked with a sniff.

Draiken laughed. “Yes, besides that.”

“Please let me down.”

“Speak to me first. What have you learned?”

“That I am as ungrateful as a turnip, and just as bitter.”

“By the gods, that is a statement I was not expecting.” Draiken’s laugh filled the room. He lowered her back to the bed and gathered her in his arms, not bothering to adjust the undergarments to cover her scorched backside. He held water to her lips, watching as she drank thirstily. “Please, enlighten me as to how you came to this epiphany.”

Daynel forced herself to relax against the expanse of his broad chest, holding her injured arm protectively. “My brother used to tell me that when I refused to accept his assistance after I was injured. His wife, Ilesbet, would try to heal me and all I did was fight her.”

“The high priestess was very patient with you for many years. She loves you very much,” Draiken said somberly, stroking pale wisps of hair from the girl’s face. “She tried to prepare you for this time, but you would not heed her.”

“You know of Ilesbet?”

“Of course? She is my priestess. And my sister.”

“Ilesbet never told me she had a brother!” Daynel stated with wide eyes.

“There is much she has not told you. She and I shared a womb. Our mother was…not in good health, and offered the gods her life in exchange for both of ours. They refused.”

“That is horrible!”

“No, you don’t understand. She lived and bore us both. I arrived first with Ilesbet wrapped around my right leg. The birthing left our mother very weak and she chose to give us up to the temple sisters to raise. It was there that our destinies were chosen.”

“Your poor mother! Did she ever get to see you?” Daynel asked, noting that he had deliberately not commented about his sire.

Draiken hesitated, unsure about how much to share with her about his past. “She visited quite often. The sisters insisted that we be given the love of a family as well as the teachings of the priesthood. When we were old enough to behave ourselves, we were permitted to visit her,” he chuckled, thinking back. “Ilesbet was known to cause quite the amount of mischief, and repeatedly left me alone to deal with it.”

Daynel smiled, finding herself snuggling deep into his warm arms. He lifted a goblet to her mouth and she sipped the sweet wine. Draiken continued after popping a fig into Daynel’s mouth.

“She learned early how to manipulate the forces of air and water, and would bring the sisters’ bathwater to nearly freezing seconds before they stepped in. She would then rally the winds to sweep away toweling so that the poor old women had to run naked through the courtyards to their quarters. Some of those images still burn in my mind.”

Daynel’s laughter brought a smile to the man’s face. He repositioned her upon his lap, ignoring her wince as her bottom was reminded of her recent punishment. “I have not seen her in fifteen years. The day she threw the ice water in your brother’s face was also the day I was sent to watch over the high temple. We used to speak through dreams, but that ability has been hampered over the last ten years.”

“Why would that happen? Even the old still dream,” Daynel said mischievously.

“You think me as old? Hmmm, I guess in the eyes of a child I would be.”

“I am
not
a child!”

“Nor am I old,” Draiken teased, poking his finger into her side, delighting in the squeal that followed. “Ah, a weakness in the warrior princess! I shall remember that. Dreams have become more difficult to catch over the last decade. There is a poison in the world that is killing dreams, my love. One that I hope to destroy with your help.”

“Poison? I dream all the time. I don’t understand.”

“The poison is called greed…selfishness…pride…it comes in a number of names and ways. Anything that inhibits one from hope will also inhibit them from the dreams. Those of us who catch dreams, such as Ilesbet and myself, are being blocked by the evil growing in our world. With a loss of faith also comes a loss of hope.”

“And they become self-reliant. Like me,” Daynel said somberly, looking down at her hands. “That is why Ilesbet tried for so many years to show me the secret of the Hidden Glen, and I thought it to be boring and not worth my time.”

“You found swordplay with your brothers, hunting, and riding more appealing. But it is not too late for you. As a child, you still had room to pretend to be something bigger and stronger, and always knew that if you ever needed help, your family would be there for you. Children have freedom in that way. Most children, anyway…”

“You sound sad.”

“I am. The southern kingdom has many orphanages that house lost, unwanted children. They are being taught about self. Their only hope will come from what they can produce from themselves. Nothing more. Their ability to dream has been stolen from them. They know nothing of the gods, or of magic. Only survival.”

Daynel fell silent, finding herself rubbing the side of his large thumb with her index finger. She had been taught about the gods as a child and had been given a choice to believe what she chose. Or so she thought.