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No spark. Nada.
I pretended to be still working at it, unwilling to see the smug vindication on Rogue’s face. I tried to look as though I was concentrating, while I madly scrambled within myself for some hint of the well of magic that had coursed through me ever since I first woke up on that grassy hill. Maybe even, as Larch had suggested, before that.
Rogue, shockingly enough, was not fooled by my dissembling. He reached over and tipped up my chin with one elegant finger and shook his head at me. Then he slipped the fleshy bundle from my arms and returned her to the tree, settling her deep inside again. He turned back to me and suddenly the tree behind him was whole and full again.
Rogue swooped a shredded leaf from the ground and presented it to me with a bow.
Then turned and walked away.
Part V
Preliminary Conclusions
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Chapter 26
The Blood of the Dragon
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Isank tothe ground and sat there for a long time, holding that leaf.
Twirling it in my fingers, watching the uneven spin of it, the singed and torn bits fluttering as it spun. Utterly depleted, I stayed long enough for the afternoon to give way to the long shadows of twilight. The forked shadows reminded me of the black patterns on Rogue’s face.
Apparently I had won. At least for the moment, Rogue was leaving me alone. No more teasing. No more seduction. No more trying to move up the timetable for my impregnation.
And here I sat in my nightgown and dressing robe, hollowed out and empty, bereft of even the magic that was the first gift I received here. Funny that I hadn’t thought of it as a gift before. So cliché of me, not to appreciate it until it was gone.
I steeled myself against the staining of regret. This was what I’d wanted. By the time Rogue thought to try again, I’d be long gone. I didn’t need magic to get home. I hadn’t been a sorceress when I came here, so it followed I didn’t need to be one to get back. If I was well and truly fried, then perhaps I could persuade Falcon that I no longer held any use for him.
I walked back to my tent. After all, where else did I have to go? Not to mention promises to keep. Plans to make.
Our camp spread out before me in the valley in all its colorful eccentricity. The usual music and tumbling glittered here and there. Falcon’s mini-village sat on a hill across the way, silks fluttering gaily in the slight breeze.
My tent was dark and empty. Neither Larch nor Dragonfly was in evidence and all the pillows were out. Still no sign of Darling. I sent an inquiring thought at him and got sulky cat grumpiness back. I slapped a few pillows into life and desperately wished the tub would just be full of hot water, though if the magic was gone…but there, suddenly the tub was full of steaming water.
“Thank you, magic,” I whispered in the quiet of the tent, as another wave of exhaustion washed over me. It began to make sense to me. When I was full of sexual energy, I had plenty for magic. But fully releasing it, as Rogue had driven me to do, pushing me so high, so far, and then the way I’d emptied myself, both in orgasm and with the lighting… No wonder I’d had nothing left.
I scavenged the remains of the brunch tray Dragonfly had brought for Rogue, and guzzled from the pitcher of water. The decanter of too-sweet wine I took into the tub with me.
In the morning, I had a slight headache from too much wine but awoke with that peaceful feeling of sound rest and well-being. The way you felt waking up after a terrible fight with your boyfriend the night before, when at first you felt good and peaceful and you wondered why that was so surprising and then you remembered how awful you felt when you went to sleep and it all came flooding back, but somehow muted, less immediate and ferocious than it was before you slept.
Darling, curled up next to me, stretched and purred. I dug my fingers through his plush fur. He sent me contented thoughts.
“I’m sorry you got hurt,” I whispered.
He licked my hand with a raspy tongue and sent an image of a disemboweled Falcon.
“Not a bad idea, if we can pull it off.”
Feeling better, I found some clothes for the day and stripped off the tattered nightgown, dumping it on the pile of tattered robe I’d left the night before. I pulled on the new dress quickly, though Rogue likely would not put in another appearance—not this morning, nor any other, if I read him right. I brushed out my hair and tried some tentative deliberate magic to do my makeup—which worked just fine.
“Today is the first day of the rest of your very strange and twisted life,” I told my reflection, attempting the jaunty tone I imagined people who practiced affirmations used. Darling, engaged in an intensive washing, snorted at me mentally.
I opened all the tent flaps, dumped out the dried remains of the food tray and neatly stacked the pillows into the corners. I even made my bed. My black dress still lay on the workbench where I’d left it after the molestation session with Rogue. The dragon blood gleamed an uncomfortable yellow. I needed to find a way to get that out. Either that or burn the dress, which I just couldn’t face doing.
No Larch out front still. After wishing the water away to the foot of the dryad’s tree, I dragged the brass tub out the back of the tent to dry in the sunshine. A little UV disinfection never hurt anything. Darling hopped up on the rim, balanced a moment on tiptoes, then plopped inside. Clearly he was much more cat than man. He flicked a tail tip at me in disdain.
