“Luke will come around,” Layla spoke softly. “He can’t deny his practical side.”
But as both her bound lovers turned to gaze at her, a heavy doubt in their eyes, Layla heaved her own sigh. She realized suddenly that she didn’t know Luke anymore, and couldn’t predict what he’d do in this situation. Once, she could have counted on him even if she knew his rage was going to flare, but now she wasn’t so sure.
As she mulled it over, a flare of luminescence suddenly passed through the plane as a wave of vicious disorientation rolled Layla. She inhaled as a high whine hit her ears, thinking the plane had exploded mid-air or something. But then she recognized it for the discomfort of traveling from the human world into the Twilight Realm, and Layla blinked, astounded that they’d made the transition somehow in mid-air. But as she glanced out the window, she saw sprawling woodlands with fields of impossible colors below. As the jet began to bank down sharply for landing, Layla saw a runway cut through the woods. And there, right next to the woodland was the curved moat of Château de Chambord, with the sprawling grounds of the palace inside it.
The clan-home of the Storm Dragons of Europe.
Layla gripped Adrian’s hand for landing, and he gave her a supportive squeeze as her nerves ratcheted up once more. Luke and Rikyava returned to their seats, though Luke studiously avoided all eyes as he sat and buckled in. As they touched down, Layla breathed an audible sigh of relief, feeling everyone else in the jet ease also. Her energy was truly having an effect on them all – even Rikyava more tight-wound than usual as the jet taxied off the runway into an unoccupied space of tarmac near the trees.
Forest surrounded the landing strip, and Layla marveled that the Storm Dragons had their own airstrip at Château de Chambord in the Twilight Realm, something that didn’t exist in the human world. A few other private jets waited on the tarmac, with a sizable hangar for more. As the co-pilot opened the doors, everyone fetched belongings, disembarking. Dusk grabbed Layla’s bags, leaving only her red purse to claim as they moved down the jet’s steps, Layla frowning to see no welcome retinue waiting for them.
But even as she stepped down the last stair, gazing at the snowy woodland, she heard a roar like lions and a lashing sound like whips cut the brisk winter air. Around the edge of the forest suddenly came an enormous carriage pulled by a team of six iron-black manticores. As the lion-bodied creatures whipped their scorpion tails and flared bat-like wings, making the cracking sound Layla had heard through the forest, snarling and pulling in their traces, Layla saw the massive carriage was bigger than a tank, yet crafted in opulent 1700’s French Baroque style.
Cobalt blue velvet interiors were augmented by gilded fleur-de-lis carved upon the doors and sides of the carriage, gilded tassels brushing the snow as the carriage arrived. As the driver sawed it to a halt, six footmen in Victorian garb leaped down with deep bows, claiming luggage with flashes in their storm-blue eyes. As the driver hopped down from his high seat, he and Adrian clasped arms with familiar smiles. It was then that Layla saw their driver was the Blood Dragon King Huttr Erdhelm’s elegantly sexy younger son, Rhennic Erdhelm. Layla blinked in surprise as Rhennic claimed her hand, bowing over it with a clack of bootheels and a flash of his gorgeously subtle smile – immense pleasure in his vivid lavender eyes.
Rhennic was as immaculately modern as when she’d seen him two nights ago at the Yule Ball, wearing a sleek charcoal suit that looked like Armani with a royal purple tie, gold tie-bar, and gold cufflinks. So tall he towered a full hand even over Adrian, he was fit in an elegant way rather than bulky like his older brother and father. His gladiator-short Scandinavian-blond hair and beard were trim in GQ style, subtle red hi-lights showing in the snowy day. Rhennic smiled, clasping Dusk’s hand with a fierce welcome, then embracing his cousin Rikyava with a hearty laugh. The energy of the Erdhelms was infectious; Layla suddenly couldn’t be mad with Rhennic’s amazing lavender eyes beaming at her, even as he turned back to Adrian.
“Adrian!” Rhennic spoke in a beautiful baritone, smoothly melodious yet fierce. “We heard all about the problems at the Hotel. Layla, my deepest condolences.” He turned to Layla with a fierce sobriety in his eyes now. “We will do everything in our power to help find your friends. And to bring them home alive and unharmed.”
“Thank you, Rhennic.” Layla spoke, her heart suddenly feeling heavy again despite the warm welcome. But she found herself confused it was a Blood Dragon come to greet them at the Storm Dragon’s home, even though Rhennic was the son of the Blood Dragon King. Risking committing a faux-pas, Layla asked, “But shouldn’t there be a Storm Dragon emissary to welcome us to Chambord?”
“I am your Storm Dragon emissary.” Rhennic laughed, flowing and musical, as he smiled at Layla. “Queen Justine is my mother. I’m the Storm Prince, Layla, Justine’s only child – my magic has a Storm Dragon affinity rather than Blood. Technically, since King Huttr is my father I’m also a Blood Prince, but my elder brother Halfdir has the honor of being the Blood Throne’s Regent should my father fall.”
“Oh! Well, I feel like an idiot.” Layla flushed.
“You arenotan idiot.” Rhennic spoke kindly, with subtle tones that Layla only now heard held the slightest French accent as he took up her hand, kissing it, even as his lavender eyes flashed with storms like Queen Justine’s. “Come. My mother and father await at the Château. Your case takes priority today, and we will devour it to its utmost until we have a valid course of action. The White Chalice will not be tolerated, in Storm Dragon lands or anywhere else. And they will not survive our wrath.”
With those bold words, Rhennic gestured towards the waiting carriage. Trying not to glance at Luke, Layla followed the Storm Dragon Prince to his hansom, taking his hand as he offered it to help her up the high iron steps. He was a gentleman as he did so, and Layla felt no mate-taste from him as he helped her up into the massive carriage.
But as their hands released, at the very last touch of their fingertips, a subtle flash of electrifying power gripped Layla. Arrested, she stared at the Storm Prince where he stood beside the carriage, as Rhennic lifted a subtle eyebrow over his arresting lavender eyes, deepened now to a bold royal plum color. A delicious scent of heather and lavender curled from Rhennic as his gaze held hers, as if he couldn’t quite contain his magic at the sudden connection of their touch.
And an answering scent of sweet bourbon and bright citrus flowed from Layla, as her drakaina rose high in her veins with eager interest.
CHAPTER 17 – POWER
Château de Chambord was just as incredible as Layla remembered it from the human world. As the carriage drove up over the bridge that spanned Chambord’s slow-flowing river of a moat, Layla marveled at the Château beneath the heavy winter sky. A false fortress built in the 1500’s with opulent turrets, soaring balustrades, and exquisite French Renaissance facades to mimic Italianate architecture and look like the skyline of Constantinople, the palace was stunning as they approached – just as Layla remembered it as a tourist to France years ago.
Château de Chambord in the human world had been constructed as an ostentatious hunting lodge for King Francis I, and the Twilight Realm version was equally opulent. As they drove around the quadrangle to enter the fortress at the rear, opposite where the false moat surrounded the royal gardens, Layla saw this Chambord was ornate throughout the structure, rather than just in the King’s section. That palace had been built of granite, but this one was built of a stone Layla didn’t know – shining white in the grey day with veins of an ore that flashed like opal lightning through the walls and turrets.
As if the entire building had been made of pearl then thrust through with storms like fire-opals, Layla found herself gaping at the powerful effect as they stepped from the carriage. The vaulted ebony doors to the palace’s rear entrance were thrown wide for their arrival, a welcome-guard of fifty Storm Dragons in charcoal-grey Victorian uniforms waiting at stiff attention in a chevron flanking the ingress.
As Layla took Rhennic’s hand, stepping down from the carriage, she saw the rear grounds had extensive stables and out-buildings that didn’t exist in the human world. Extensively farmed, corrals of sheep, goats, and livestock were interspersed with sprawling orchards, grape arbors, and berry fields. Most of it was dormant for winter, but Layla saw certain areas still green with production, no snow on the ground as they shimmered beneath some kind of magical barrier that flickered with lightning and sudden rainstorms.
Amazed, Layla realized the Storm Dragons had methods of terraforming their land with magic, and as Rhennic escorted her towards the wide quadrangle of the Château, she saw vast herb gardens flanking the building, blooming in full-summer riot beneath the translucent barriers. As they approached, Layla shivered, feeling like she was about to get lanced with millions of megawatts of electricity, but as she passed through that shifting barrier and into a summer-warm environment fragrant with sun and rain, Rhennic glanced over.
“Don’t worry,” he spoke encouragingly. “You and your friends are guests. Our storm-barriers don’t harm guests.”
“Though they’re a pretty gnarly surprise for anyone who’s not invited.” Rikyava snarked with a chuckle behind them as they moved through the chevron of guards and arrived at the palace’s rear ingress.
“Indeed.” Rhennic grinned at Rikyava as if sharing some private joke.
The magical barriers weren’t the fortress’ only protection, however. At the ends of the long quadrangle, Layla saw towers that didn’t exist in the human-world Château. Atop each tower, an enormous Dragon coiled in beast form, talons bigger than a Buick gouging into the well-scraped walls and turrets. The massive storm-blue and grey Dragon-Guards had an oilslick color to their scales, and as Layla watched one roar, flaring humungous wings and a mantle of brilliant blue spikes like a frilled lizard, she felt a thunderclap hit the air, a flash of lightning blazing in the winter clouds above.
As the Dragon-Guard adjusted its position coiled around the tower, Layla watched the winter storm-clouds far above the Château roil, as if the giant beast was directing them with its power. She suddenly recalled why Storm Dragons were so feared in the Twilight Realm – because they could actually direct thunderstorms, and zap an enemy with billions of volts of lightning.
Beyond the tower, a gargantuan coliseum stood stark against the heavy winter sky. Almost like the one in Rome but styled with French Renaissance details, it was made of the Château’s opalescent lightning-stone. Storm Dragons ranging from opal-white to a deep, thundercloud violet-black came and went, perching on the building, preening, and flying in to enormous nests built into the alcoves of the coliseum. Layla blinked, amazed that Queen Justine’s people spent so much time in Dragon-form that they needed a place to sleep. But this was the first active Dragon clan-home Layla had visited, and as they entered the double-doors of the fortress’ quadrangle, Layla saw a bustling palace of other Storm Dragons coming and going in human form – all of whom glanced with interest and a flash of cunning in their dark blue eyes at their guests.
Passing through the vaulted ingress and into the Château’s bailey, Layla saw the area wasn’t crushed gravel like in the human world, but an immense courtyard full of herbs and flowers with elegant fountains that rivaled the Palace of Versailles. As she marveled at it, the Château’s keep towering over them with flashes of opal lightning flickering through its white turrets, the Storm Dragon Queen herself suddenly flowed out of the keep and down the steps.
