ZS- The Dragon, The Witch, and The Wedding - Taurus Read online

  “Bunny,” I said, a catch in my throat. “I know we talked about this before at home, but now it’s really happening. You’re going to go live with the dragons and be a peets offering. I know the dragons will love you just as I do. Donovan is going to fly you to the top of Zodiac Mountain. You can see everything from a dragon’s back. You be a good girl, and you always remember that I love you, and you’re my best friend forever.”

  I kissed her and hugged her tight before thrusting her into Donovan’s sharp claws.

  He held her gently, encircling her so that none of his claws poked her.

  “You’re sure?” He unfurled green wings, each one bigger than I was.

  I nodded because tears wouldn’t let me speak.

  “You’re a good friend and a good witch, little Marley,” Donovan told me before leaping into the air. Higher and higher he climbed until he was above the tallest of the trees. Bunny shrank to a tiny little speck in his claw. I waved as the tears coursed down my cheeks, and I couldn’t see anything.

  I wasn’t late for breakfast. Nobody even knew I’d left. A few days later, Mother asked me whatever happened to Bunny.

  “I gave her away,” I said. “I’m too big for bunnies now.” But I lied. I would never be too big for my Bunny.

  I waited days and days for the dragons to come visit and tell us they were our friends again, but they never did. And the night they burned Eleanora’s field of sage, I knew I’d given up Bunny for nothing, and I’d never see her again. I cried hard into my pillow as the flickering flames cast eerie shadows on my bedroom wall, but I didn’t hate Donovan because I knew he’d tried. I couldn’t even bring myself to hate the other dragons. Grown-ups sometimes had reasons little children didn’t understand. Maybe this problem was something even a Bunny couldn’t fix.

  Chapter 1

  “Dragon!” my sister Renata screamed from her perch in the treehouse. As children we’d played in it, but now we used it as a lookout post when we cast our magical spells to protect our fields.

  I chanced a look away from the altar in the middle of the sacred circle. A green dragon. My heart lurched. Ever since I’d met Donovan when I was five, green dragons had held special significance for me. Even though they proved as fierce and unforgiving as the other colors, one green dragon’s kindness still resonated within me. I hated seeing green dragons flaming our crops.

  Surely this dragon couldn’t be him. I’d never seen him flying above our fields on a mission of destruction. You could argue that all green dragons looked basically alike save for scars or size, but I knew I would recognize Donovan even though I hadn’t seen him in twenty years. He wouldn’t do this. I’d told him how much Grandmother had suffered when her long-ago lavender field had been torched. To this day, she’d never managed to recover all the magic that field once held.

  My Aunt Eleanora tugged on my hand. “Stop staring and pay attention,” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “We haven’t much time to finish the spell as it is.”

  Guiltily, I transferred my focus to the altar. Upon it rested a silver athame, a green candle, and a bowl of incense smoldering on heated pebbles. The heavy scent of myrrh rose into the early morning air, helping us to cast our spell of protection around the field of mint and rosemary. In two weeks we would harvest. These herbs would be used in healing spells and for food flavoring. Most of this crop was destined for the king’s kitchen.

  Unless the dragon got to the field before our spell took hold.

  “Damn those dragons. They have a sixth sense about when our spells fade and need renewing.” Eleanora tightened her hold on my left hand, nearly crushing my fingers in her anger.

  I wanted to tell her they wouldn’t be doing this if not for her, but I didn’t want to break her concentration. I stared at her profile. Beautiful and proud, she appeared younger than even I was at twenty-five. She’d been eating the tubers for twenty years.

  I wouldn’t touch them. It was now tradition in my coven to begin eating the tubers at age twenty-one, but I couldn’t let down Donovan and the other dragons. The older I became, the more I realized we had stolen their magic. If I ate the tubers, I’d betray that little girl who gave away her best friend.

  Mother said when I found my first gray hair or wrinkle, I’d soon change my tune. I stared at her across the circle. Her bright blonde hair gleamed in the sunlight. Although nearing fifty, she didn’t appear any older than twenty in this light. Same as my aunt.

  Grandmother, too, could pass for my sister, yet her ninety-fifth birthday had come and gone two years ago.

  She led the chanting as we moved widdershins around the altar.

  “We rouse the sleeping goddess,” she cried in her powerful voice.

  “Greet the dawn with us,” the rest of us responded.

  “Wake now, and cast your protective gaze across our magical field.”

  “Goddess, protect us,” we chanted.

  “Keep harm away!” Grandmother cried.

  “Goddess, guard us!” we spoke in unison.

  Inside me, my slumbering magic snapped awake. A sickening sensation yanked at my bones. If not for Eleanora’s strong grip on my hand, I would have staggered and fallen to my knees. We mustn’t break the circle. If we let go of each other’s hands, the magic inside us would retreat and fall asleep. We hadn’t the time to wake it again.

  The air shimmered before my eyes as the magic pulled free from inside us and rose into the air, where it would make an invisible dome over the field, protecting it from all outside influence. We, as witches, could pass through this barrier at will to bring the plants water and fertilizer, but nothing, not even rain, could pass through our magic.

  Only it took time for our magic to blend and form, and the dragon’s wings beat so fast they blurred, bringing him closer. Too close. Flame burst from his open mouth as he swooped low.

  “No!” Renata shrieked, rushing down the wooden ladder nailed to the tree’s trunk. What she thought she could do puzzled me. No one could stop a flaming dragon.

  “Goddess, guard us!” we chanted, faster and faster, but my stomach knotted. Would our magic mesh in time, or would the dragon be triumphant?

  The scent of myrrh faded beneath the smell of rosemary and mint—sweet at first, then souring as the leaves curled and burned to ash. Fire sprang from one plant to another as the dragon belched flame from one furrow to the next. His tail lashed as he maneuvered the turns.

  “Curse you, dragon!” Eleanora raised a fist, her face twisted with rage.

  My coven sisters groaned. Some sank to the dirt in defeat. Others wept. Grandmother, her mouth tight, watched the field burn, but said nothing.

  Sick to my stomach, I took a faltering step, then another, toward the burning field. I didn’t have to worry about the flames spreading to the other fields. Protection spells still kept them safe. Only this field would burn today, but it was enough. The king would be livid. This was his crop, not ours.

  As if in a daze, I walked to the edge of the field. Little flames sizzled near my bare toes. I could have been burned, but I didn’t move. I craned my neck to stare at the green dragon as he soared above me, heading back for the top of Zodiac Mountain.

  As his shadow passed over me, he glanced beneath his wing and our gazes locked.

  My breath choked me as I gasped. Jewel-like green eyes I’d know anywhere. No kindness gleamed from within them now—only contempt. Donovan, my dragon friend, was friend no longer.

  His great wings beat as he flew farther and farther away. I sank to my knees in the soft dirt, smoke smothering me as tears dripped down my cheeks.

  The divide between witch and dragon had never seemed wider. Funny how wrong people can be sometimes.

  Chapter 2

  Papa smoothed his fingers across the seat of the chair he’d nearly finished thatching before reaching for another dried reed. He wove it expertly into the material already there. I watched, fascinated.

  “Mother will be so happy to have new chairs.” I prop
ped my elbows on the table and my chin against my fists as I watched. Renata stood at the counter, nervously kneading dough.

  The coven council had been called before the king to answer for the burned mint and rosemary. Rumor had it the king had also demanded the dragon council attend the meeting. Perhaps, after twenty-plus years, the king had reached the end of his patience with our feud.

  Papa lived in the village. Witches didn’t marry because men and non-witches weren’t allowed to live with us. The coven kept separate from the rest of the village.

  That rule didn’t stop witches and villagers from falling in love or lust, nor did it prevent witches from having babies. Spells ensured we produced only daughters.

  Papa had a wife and three other children in the village. His affair with my mother had ended after Renata’s conception by my mother’s wishes, not his.

  Still, he often spent time with us, making us feel wanted and loved. Each year his hair turned grayer, his face more wrinkled, but I still remembered the dark-haired, handsome man who used to toss me in the air while we laughed together.

  His wife in the village, and our three half-brothers, treated us warmly. Having two families comforted me most days, and I was always thankful that Mother didn’t resent any time we spent with our “village family” as she called it.

  As Renata had grown into a teen, she’d spent less and less time with Papa and his family in the village. I, on the other hand, always had supper at least once a week at his home.

  Renata had Mother’s blonde hair and blue eyes, but I looked like our father. Brown eyes and hair two shades lighter than his dark brown.

  I hadn’t inherited his gift of woodworking, though. I could only stare in awe as he made tables and chairs from pieces of wood and reed.

  “I see lanterns coming down the path.” Papa stood, one hand on his back as he stretched. “Put this chair in the corner until the thatching sets. Marley, I’ll see you Thursday for supper. Renata, as always, you’re welcome to come along.” He gave us both bear hugs and left by the back door so he wouldn’t run into Mother and the council.

  Papa was sensitive. He knew whatever the king had said couldn’t have been good, and witch business was not his business. He left before Grandmother had to ask him politely to go home.

  “He’s getting very old.” Renata covered the bread dough with a cloth so it could rise overnight, then wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “I wish villagers could eat the tubers and be young for a thousand years like we can.”

  She gave me a look. “Well, like most of us can. You’re too stubborn, Marley. After what that dragon did our herbs, I can’t understand why you don’t break your rule and eat the tubers like the rest of us.”

  Truth be told, I’d been tempted to do just that after Donovan’s betrayal, but I hadn’t yet made up my mind. Simply because he’d sunk low didn’t mean I had to in return. Problem was, the high ground was a lonely place these days. Still, doing the right thing was more important than having friends. Or so I told myself.

  Our cottage door burst open and Mother stalked in, her pretty face disfigured with anger and trepidation. Grandmother followed closely and set her lantern on the table. She thrust back her shawl from over her head. Her blonde hair, loosened from its knot, cascaded down her back and made her look like a teenager.

  “Curse the king,” she spat. Renata gasped and backed into the counter, her face drawn tight with fear. No one dared speak against the king.

  “Mother,” my mother said, after sucking in a deep breath. “Anger right now is profitless. We have no choice. We must do it.”

  “I’ll not send one of my witches to the top of Zodiac Mountain to sleep with a friggin’ dragon!” Grandmother’s eyes blazed with wrath, and she clutched the edge of the table so tightly her fingers turned bone white.

  “What?” Renata’s eyes widened until they dominated her face. “What is she talking about, Mother?”

  Mother sighed helplessly. “King Leopold believes that our feud with the dragons will end if each knew the other better. Therefore, he has decreed that one witch shall marry one dragon, and since witches do not allow males to live within the coven, the witch will have to make her home with the dragons on Zodiac Mountain.”

  A gasp of horror escaped Renata’s lips. She pressed a fist to her heart as if to calm its wild beating. “Who? Which one of us?”

  “The king, in his infinite wisdom, has left that up to us.” Mother lurched toward the tea kettle and hung it from its hook above the flickering fire in the grate. “His only stipulation is that we choose a young witch with no children to leave behind.”

  “Not me!” Renata sagged against the counter. “Oh, please not me, Mother! I’m scared of dragons.”

  Mother crossed the room to pull Renata into her arms. She stroked my sister’s bright blonde hair and crooned to her as she rocked her.

  “I’ll make the decision,” Grandmother whispered through stiff lips. “I lead this coven.”

  “We’ll draw lots,” Mother said, still rocking Renata. “There are my two daughters, Eleanora’s Eileen, Sheena’s three, and Jessie’s twins.”

  Renata burst into ugly tears. “Please not me! Please don’t put my name in the drawing!”

  “Who’s the dragon?” I asked. My legs trembled, and I couldn’t feel my fingertips as shock crawled through me. Married to a dragon. Exiled to the top of Zodiac Mountain? Even I, who admired the dragons, shuddered at the thought of losing everything I knew here in the coven and the village.

  “That bastard green who flamed our field.” Grandmother crossed to the cupboard to find the tea, which she scooped into the teapot. “One of my witches is too good for him.”

  “Don—”Horrified, I snapped my mouth shut. I’d never told a soul about meeting a dragon on Zodiac Mountain twenty years ago. I pretended to cough and turned my back on my family so I could think more clearly. Donovan married to a witch? Had the green-eyed boy grown into a hateful man, or someone who could still be reached? Surely, he remembered the little girl who entrusted her Bunny to him as a peace offering? Perhaps he would be kinder to me than he would to my sister, cousin, or friends? Besides, I couldn’t let Renata’s name go into a drawing. If she were chosen, she’d never make it to the mountaintop. She’d expire from fear first.

  I wasn’t afraid of dragons. At least, not much. Especially Donovan. I knew he had a heart. I’d seen it. Boys with good hearts kept those hearts when they grew into men. Didn’t they? Even if their dragons flamed a coven’s field.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Blood pounded loudly in my ears. “I’ll do it. I volunteer.”

  Renata wailed, her sobs muffled by Mother’s shoulder. Grandmother slammed the teapot onto the counter, and the lid rattled. Mother gasped.

  “Marley!” she cried. “Oh, you can’t be serious. Mother! Don’t let her! I don’t want to lose my oldest daughter! Please tell her there will be a drawing, so at least she’ll have a chance of not being picked.”

  Grandmother’s footsteps echoed across the wood floor. She wound her arm around my waist and pulled me tight against her.

  “You’re my brave girl,” she whispered, her voice tight with tears. “It is fitting that my granddaughter be the one. After all, I allowed this feud to happen.”

  “You didn’t! Mother shouted. “This is all Eleanora’s fault! If anyone should go, it should be Eileen, her daughter! Eileen’s your granddaughter, too! Eleanora started all this. She should end it!”

  “We’ve been eating the tubers she’s grown for over twenty years.” In the firelight, Grandmother’s face turned harsh, and the ghost of her real age drifted like a shadow across her smooth cheeks. “That was my decision as leader of this coven.

  “Marley has volunteered. Eileen’s like her mother. Defiant and unthinking. Marley is level-headed. Most of all, she’s fair. If any of us can find a way to exist with dragons, it would be her. You know it, too, Kelly. Now, no more bewailing our fate. Let’s face it like the proud witches we are.”
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br />   “I’m not a proud witch. I’m a mother about to lose her precious daughter.” Mother blundered across the room to her bedroom and slammed her door. Loud sobs echoed throughout the cottage.

  With heavy steps, Grandmother moved to the fire and removed the kettle so she could fix us all tea. She dosed it heavily with spelled chamomile. We’d all sleep well that night.

  Chapter 3

  Witches didn’t wear wedding gowns. I felt fraudulent as I gazed at myself one last time in the mirror in Papa and Griselda’s bedroom. Who was this young woman with her brown hair topped by a garland of white roses? Her sleeveless lace-top dress belted at the waist with a thin band of silver and pearl beads and frothed to her feet in a light spill of white satin. She didn’t look like me. Yes, I wore flower garlands on my head frequently, but never such an intricate and formal white silk dress.

  Papa’s wife, Griselda, had made me this gown. The whole village would attend the ceremony, which would take place on the village green. My coven had labored for hours to create a magical garden, complete with a flowery wedding arch beneath which Donovan and I would bind ourselves together forever.

  A soft tap on the door startled me away from my contemplation of the stranger in the mirror.

  “Come in,” I called, my voice unsteady. I smoothed my palms across my satin skirt, the fabric whisper-soft against my skin. What would life be like on top of Zodiac Mountain? The dragons lived in the interconnected caves that honeycombed throughout the mountain. I pictured wretched darkness lit by weak candlelight where the sun never penetrated. Hard for a witch used to working beneath the blue sky as she dug into the rich, brown earth. My breath caught in my throat. For a moment I couldn’t breathe, feeling the phantom weight of the mountain rock bearing down on my chest.

  Did the dragons stay in dragon form more than human? Would I be alone among caverns full of beasts with glowing eyes and sharp talons? What would Donovan think of his witch wife? Would he resent me? Hate me? Perhaps he had a dragon lover. She would despise me and make my life unendurable.