Once Bitten: A Dragon-Shifter Fantasy Romance Read online

“It’s a shield, Ma’am,” Lidia said, her voice shaken. “It went up during the second round. See how the air shimmers in front of us?”

  Eloisa didn’t see, though it could have been because her eyes were swimming with tears of alarm. She had never heard of a shield so large, or one capable of sustaining such a blow.

  Embarrassed by her reaction, she turned to Lord Caleth in order to explain herself. But as her eyes moved over, she saw that his hand was holding hers. In her panic, she hadn’t realized that he’d grabbed her.

  Eloisa instinctively jerked from his grip, her eyes wide and her heart beating fiercely. It was the first time he’d touched her, and the first time since her youth that any man had lain a hand on her, save for her brother.

  Appearing surprised, the sovereign searched her face. Whatever it told him, he looked none too pleased. Tension appeared around his eyes, and she didn’t need to read his aura to know that he was annoyed with her.

  Eloisa held her hand to her chest, feeling both disconcerted and ashamed. Unsure what to say and unable to keep looking at his irritated expression, she looked away from him.

  Perhaps seeking to smooth things over, Lidia spoke to him in Cal’derache.

  “Atolia ka jersta ka esharanta wysraktandren. Asana ketkta ersan vysarkta ka esharanta ak anjru.”

  Though she couldn’t make sense of what Lidia had said, Eloisa saw the maid’s aura gray with a lie. Although the sovereign was visibly pacified by whatever Lidia had said, Eloisa’s sense of wrongness was intensified by the dishonesty.

  With a single touch on her hand and a lie meant to sooth tensions, Eloisa was back on the brink of overwhelm. As they’d flown to Cal’en Fasha, she’d wondered how she would survive a marriage to Lord Caleth. Now, she doubted she could get that far. What man would want a woman who flinched away from his touch, as though his fingers secreted acid? And how could they possibly come to know one another, when everything about her was a lie?

  Chapter Eight

  It was evening, not that it made a difference anymore. Eloisa leaned against the cold glass of her balcony door, staring out at the dark horizon and the mountains in the distance.

  Behind her, Lidia saw the last of the servants out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, the maid let out an exaggerated sigh.

  “I thought we’d never get rid of them,” Lidia said. “I swear, every time I ousted one, two more would be waiting to push their way in. This bonus they’ve been offered, it is improper. Good service should not be incentivized. In the south, it is an art. Here, they treat it like an occupation.”

  Eloisa joined her at the sitting area near the fire. She took a seat on one of the upholstered sofas and gestured for Lidia to do the same on the one opposite to her.

  “Aren’t southern servants all slaves?” Eloisa asked.

  “Not all of them. Lady’s maids aren’t, at least. And there are different classes of slaves. Servants occupy the highest echelons and they take great pride in their positions.”

  As Lidia stretched out on the sofa, Eloisa couldn’t help but be reminded of Selia. Her heart ached remembering how they used to lay across from one another and talk through the night, only they’d been in their hard cots rather than plush sofas, and there had been a nightstand with a lamp between them, not a table piled high with a hundred different foods and drinks.

  Eloisa’s stomach was silent as she eyed the opulent array of food. When it had first been brought to her, she’d been certain the it was for her and her brood of servants to share, but they’d only stood around, staring at her while she considered the different dishes. There were meats from five different land animals, seven types of poultry, and a dozen cuts of fish. Three different platters held more cheeses than she’d ever seen, and a servant had spent ten minutes just naming them all.

  Because few plants could grow in the climate, vegetation was not a staple of the Cal’derache diet. Despite that, there was a full platter of imported fruits, artistically cut so as to resemble flowers, and the chef had prepared several pastries that included apples and gooseberries.

  In the end, Eloisa had fiddled with the pail of cubed ice, which the Cal’derache put into their drinks to make them more palatable. She’d munched on a few of the cubes and then took a few bites of a slice of unsweetened bread.

  “I hope they don’t bring so much food tomorrow,” Eloisa said. “It feels so wrong to see so much go to waste when there are humans in Atolia dying for lack of food.”

  “Is that why you haven’t been eating?” Lidia asked.

  “I’m afraid I’m not so noble. A lot of it doesn’t look appealing. In the tower, all we had was porridge, bread, and water. I’m afraid if I eat any of this, I’ll be sick.”

  Eloisa was painting truth. Certain things, like the thick slice of chocolate cake, made her mouth water. She’d been a Child the last time she’d had chocolate, and she had a mark on her back to show for it. No matter how appealing the cake looked, it was too ingrained in her to avoid such indulgences.

  In that regard, the cake reminded her of the sovereign.

  “I’d wager they’ll bring twice as much food tomorrow,” Lidia said, leaning over to pluck grapes from their vine. “They’re trying to figure out what you like. That’s why there’s so much variety.”

  “That’s silly. Why waste so much food when they can just ask me?”

  Lidia shrugged. “It’s not the Cal’derache way. They believe it’s bad form to ask questions and prefer to learn things intuitively.”

  “Lord Caleth seems to ask a lot of questions,” Eloisa pointed out.

  “That’s because you’re not forthcoming with your desires, as northern women are. It is a good thing, I think. He must find you very mysterious.”

  “Me?” Eloisa said, rolling her eyes. “He's the mysterious one, not me.”

  Eloisa laid back, resting her head on a pillow. “Will you teach me a few words of Cal’derache?”

  Lidia frowned. “Do you think that’s wise? If you start speaking for yourself, there could be problems.”

  “I mostly want to understand,” Eloisa said. “Though, to say it true, I would like to be able to say a few things. It seems to please him when I speak his language.”

  “And you want to please him?”

  “Shouldn’t I want to?”

  Lidia nodded. “What would you like to learn? Anything specific?”

  Eloisa considered for a moment, and then said, “The words I hear most often are shta and ka. How about we start there?”

  “Shta is easy. It means you. Sometimes you’ll hear it on its own, but most often it is affixed to a verb. For example, hal means to say, so halshta means…”

  “To say you?” Eloisa promptly corrected herself, “You say.”

  “Right. There isn’t much conjugation in Cal’derache. There also isn’t as much nuance. There are single words in Cal’derache that mean ten different things in Atolian. Halfa means to tell, to inform, to notify, or to discuss.”

  “So, you tell would be halfashta?”

  “Yes, very good, Ma’am.”

  “So, how would I say tell me?”

  Lidia grimaced. “That’s where ka comes in. It’s not precisely a word. It’s a particle used mostly to denote possession or to express relation between two objects or concepts. Sometimes it functions as of, that, or to, and sometimes it’s used for reasons even I’ve yet to understand. I could spend a week teaching you just the variations and applications that I know of, and you would still find it perplexing.

  “But going back to your question you would say halfashta ka cre. Cre means both I and me, and when you use ka to connect it to halfashta, it becomes you tell me.”

  “It seems like you could get the meaning across without ka,” Eloisa said.

  Lidia said, “My thoughts exactly. It gets worse, the higher up the social ladder you go. Among common people, ka is generally omitted unless crucial to understanding a thing. Here in Cal’en Fasha, I swear it’s used after every o
ther word. The sovereign is the worst offender. I know that he knows I am struggling, but he never modulates his speech or even slows down.”

  Eloisa wasn’t sure why that made her smile, but she covered her mouth to keep from causing offense.

  Lidia went on, “Aside from ka and the phonetics, Cal’derache is fairly easy to learn. I read that there are approximately 275,000 words in the Atolian language, and only 94,000 in Cal’derache. It is a very imprecise language and most understanding is based on context, rather than direct translation.”

  “Hm. What does dreshakashta mean?”

  Lidia repeated the word and frowned. “I don’t recognize the phrase. Where did you hear it?”

  “When Jedora was in the booth today, she said something to the sovereign that made him angry. I think it was that word that bothered him most. He sent her away after that.”

  “Oh. Do you mean drejkashta?”

  “That’s the one!”

  Lidia winced. “It is a vulgar word for marital relations. Do you remember the context?”

  “Sorry, no,” Eloisa said. “They speak so quickly to one another. It’s hard to tell one word from the next. I only remember that one because she put particular emphasis on it. She really is an unpleasant woman.”

  “That is putting it nicely. I wouldn’t be surprised if she feels threatened by you. Before now, it’s just been she and her father.”

  “Who is her father?”

  Lidia’s mouth popped open. “You truly don’t know? How do you think she came by her position? She’s the sovereign’s daughter.”

  “Lord Caleth?” Eloisa said, though she knew of no other sovereign.

  Lidia said, “Yes, of course. Can’t you tell by her scent?”

  Eloisa thought back to her interactions with the pair of them. Jedora was always in her armor, which obscured much of her scent. Most of the interactions they’d had were in Lord Caleth’s presence, where Eloisa had been nervous and distressed. While she was quite attuned to the sovereign’s scent, she had never paid much mind to Jedora’s and must have subconsciously tuned out their similarities.

  “I don’t know how I missed that,” Eloisa said, putting a hand to her head. “It makes so much sense. I was wondering why he used her for a translator, rather than someone more agreeable.”

  “It could also be a practical decision,” Lidia said. “There are very few Cal’derache that speak Atolian, even at a basic level. Though it pains me to say it, Jedora’s fluency is the best I’ve yet encountered.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  Eloisa asked the question offhandedly. Her head was still spinning at the revelation. She could understand now why Jedora had been so cold to her. It wasn’t necessarily because Jedora was suspicious of her, she was just averse to playing such an active role in her father’s courtship.

  “Aside from general lack of exposure, I get the impression that they dislike the language. They find it too verbose. There’s a saying, an Atolian has ten words for saying ten words.”

  After some prodding, Lidia taught her a few more phrases and versatile words. Lidia had been right in that the Cal’derache used few words and leaned heavily on context.

  Wysra meant to see, to perceive, to comprehend, and to understand, depending on the context. To say, 'I understand' was wysracre.

  Making a verb negative was more complicated. The possessive pronouns were dropped from the verbs in favor of the negative particle –nesh, and then reattached with ka, so that 'I don’t understand' became wysranesh ka cre. However, according to Lidia, only a highborn person spoke as such, and most commoners would simply say wysracrenesh.

  The structure of the common language turned out to be quite familiar to Eloisa. As she’d predicted, it bore many similarities to the antiquated language of Ye’derache, to the extent that she thought she’d be able to learn Cal’derache quickly once she understood the phonetics.

  That thought led her to wonder if perhaps the sovereign spoke Ye’derache. Given his age, he would have been alive, albeit young, when the language was spoken throughout the northern continent. Of course, even if he could speak the language, Eloisa would have understood it no better than Cal’derache, as she’d only ever written the language.

  With no sun to mark the passage of time, Eloisa was surprised when the servants returned to get Eloisa dressed for bed. They descended upon Eloisa in a flurry of excited chatter, and Lidia had to practically pull them off of her as they tried helping Eloisa undress.

  As she was the only one among them that spoke any Atolian, Graja acted as their spokesperson.

  “We taking of her to meet the sovereign,” she said impatiently.

  “Well, which is it?” Lidia asked, putting her hands on her hips. “Are you dressing her for bed, or taking her to him?”

  “Both.”

  It wasn’t until Lidia cast her an apprehensive look that Eloisa grasped the meaning of what Graja was saying. She went perfectly still, and for a moment, even her mind was quiet and unresponsive.

  Lidia said lies to the servants in Cal’derache, and whatever she said, it made them hurry from the room. Once she’d shut the door, Lidia sprinted back over to the sitting area, her aura dancing with nervous energy.

  “I told them that you want spirits for your nerves. We must change you quickly, before they come again. They must not see your back.”

  Eloisa wrapped her arms around herself. “And how do you propose I hide it from the sovereign?” Her voice cracked into a high-pitched whine. “Surely, he doesn’t intend to keep me clothed.”

  Bile rose in her throat, and there was no keeping it down. Eloisa grabbed the ice pail from the table and vomited the meager contents of her stomach.

  “Oh, Ma’am.” Lidia came up behind her, moving Eloisa’s hair from being in range of her retching. “Don’t be frightened. I saw the two of you together. He treated you tenderly. And he’s quite handsome. You must be at least somewhat attracted to him.”

  “We’re not married yet,” Eloisa said, her stomach pitching again. “How can he expect me to share his bed? He must know I am little better than his prisoner. That’s why he thinks he can defile me before we’re wed.”

  “For a start, Ma’am, I think it’s better you don’t use the word defile. And the Cal’derache may have different ideas about sexual relations, but it’s my understanding that they aren’t common in the early stages of courtship. Perhaps he only wants to talk with you.”

  Eloisa let out a hysterical laugh. “Yes, I’m sure he just wants me alone in his bed so that he can enjoy my conversation.”

  Lidia gave her an apologetic look and then pried the pail from Eloisa’s fingers. Taking her by the hand, Lidia led her over to the closet and shut the door behind them, plunging them in blue sphere light.

  The closet was as spacious as Eloisa’s room in the tower, and seemed even more so given that it was mostly empty. Eloisa’s pale nightdress hung alone on a rack. She pulled it down, noting how flimsy the fabric felt.

  “I know this must seem an ordeal to you,” Lidia said as she helped Eloisa to undress. “But I assure you, it is not even half as bad as you have made it out to be. Whatever he does, just relax and try to be receptive.”

  Eloisa put her hands over her face. “Relax and be receptive? How can I possibly do either of those things while my eternal soul is being damned?”

  “Politely, Ma’am, if it’s your soul that you’re worried about, then what difference does it make when he has you, tonight or on your wedding night?”

  Hot tears burned the corners of Eloisa’s eyes.

  “It makes no difference,” Eloisa confessed, her chin trembling. “I know it doesn’t and I know I am damned either way, it’s just that my wedding night is in two weeks and for now I can distract myself from my dread.”

  Lidia paused in undressing her and put her arms around Eloisa. “Oh, Eloisa. I wish I could take this burden from you.”

  She held her for a brief moment, her embrace warm and comfor
ting, but when she pulled back her expression was stern.

  “I don’t mean to be brusque, but we haven’t time for tears. Help me get you into your nightdress and then we’ll talk logistics.”

  Once Eloisa had changed, Lidia poked her head out of the closet. With no sign of the other maids, she ducked back in and began issuing instructions.

  “If he tries to remove your nightdress, you must stop him. Let him pull it up instead. I doubt he’ll care much, so long as he has you, and he’ll likely think it’s some sort of Atolian custom. If he seems insistent about undressing you, then you’ll need to get on top of him. The position will afford you greater control.”

  “Pull up my nightdress? Get on top of him?” Eloisa was shaking her head so hard she thought it might fly off. “No. I will do nothing except lay on my back, still as a corpse, until he does what he will. The only way I can have some hope of salvation is if I don’t engage. If he’s forcing himself on me then at least—”

  “Have you lost your sense?” Lidia snapped, her aura crackling with anger. “How many lovers do you think that man has had? I’d wager hundreds. And you plan on earning his favor by lying in his bed like a dead fish?”

  “I don’t—”

  Eloisa had to stop short, her tongue burning with an impending lie.

  She’d been about to tell Lidia that she didn’t care about earning Lord Caleth’s favor, but she realized that it wasn’t true.

  Instead, she said, “Why do you care so much, anyway? What orders has my sister given you, that you feel so at ease involving yourself in my marriage?”

  When Lidia had raised her voice, Eloisa had raised hers on instinct, and it was only after hearing hers echo in the closet that she realized she had been shouting in her maid’s face.

  A second later, the closet door opened and Graja appeared. She gave Lidia a stony look and pointed towards the floor.

  “You go down. Not needed here. Upset princess.”

  Eloisa didn’t come to her defense. Lidia departed without another word, and as soon as she was gone, Eloisa felt as if she might vomit again.