The Dragon Shifter’s Desire by Harmony Raines

Chapter Thirty-Seven – Larisa

Larisa landed on the balls of her feet and hunkered down, her hands covering her head as the downbeat of Egan’s dragon’s wings nearly sent her sprawling across the rocky ground. One, two, three beats later, she looked up to see the silhouette of the dragon flying away from her.

She was alone. No one would come to rescue her.

She stood up and brushed the dirt from the skirt of her dress and shook her cloak before smoothing her hair and clothes. Elves were serene, in control of their actions and emotions.

At least that’s what she’d read in the caption beneath the hand-drawn picture in Egan’s book.

Her chin wobbled. She was certain Egan kept the book because it was a link to his father.

She missed her dad.

Tears misted her eyes, but she blinked them away. If she entered Argothorn’s apartment with smudged makeup, he wouldn’t take her seriously and the plan would fail before it had even begun.

This was for her dad. This was so her family could finally be free.

So she could be free to spend her life with Ivan. Free to raise their children in peace and safety.

Larisa turned around and searched the horizon for a glimpse of the ocean. If only she knew Ivan and the others had arrived safely.

Faith. She needed to have faith in him.

And faith in herself.

Ignoring the unfamiliarity of the clothes and braided hair, she turned her attention to the tower and the concealed window high above. Egan assured her there was a way to access the window.

She ducked down and flattened herself against the uneven side of the tower. Was that the sound of a dragon approaching?

She let out a long breath. It was just the sound of the wind.

“Okay, Larisa. You’ve got this.” She placed her hand on the rock and followed the curve of the tower wall. Her fingers butted up against a large stone that jutted out. Taking a step back, she looked up. Egan was right, there was a way up.

Why wasn’t it guarded?

Would she get halfway up and find it was blocked?

She wouldn’t find out unless she climbed.

Pushing the cloak back from her shoulders and wishing that she was wearing jeans and boots, she took the first step.

Higher she rose, aware that if she fell, she’d likely kill herself. Was that Egan’s plan? Perhaps he intended to get rid of her after all.

No. He was on her side.

A broken fingernail and four bruised knuckles later, she saw the window and understood why there was no guard on this side of the tower. The window was small. Maybe too small for her to fit through.

If only she’d shifted the extra pounds she carried on her thighs and stomach. They’d never bothered her until now.

Reaching up, she grabbed the ledge and lifted herself enough to see inside the room beyond. If she came face to face with Argothorn, she would need to think fast and act fast.

Her hand lingered on the knife. Perhaps she should just go stab Argothorn and finish it.

But she wasn’t a murderer. And she didn’t want Argothorn to make her or anyone else into one.

Not when there was a chance to end this peacefully.

The room beyond was dimly lit but she couldn’t see anyone. Her arms ached and her knuckles throbbed as she pulled herself over the ledge and wriggled through the narrow window.

She couldn’t fit. Panic gripped her as she stopped moving half in and half out of the window.

A scream built in her head, but she didn’t let it out. She had to stay calm if she was going to get through this.

She smiled despite the situation.

She had to stay calm if she was going to get through this window.

Larisa relaxed her body and assessed the situation. The window was a rectangle shape. If she turned on her side and put her arms through, she might be able to wriggle out of this mess.

Conscious of making too much noise, she changed position and pushed herself forward. Then she used her hands on the other side of the wall to heave herself through. For a terrifying moment, she was stuck. The knife on her belt was caught on the window ledge.

Raising herself up an inch or two, she rolled to the right. The hilt of the knife cleared the ledge and she quickly pushed herself the rest of the way in.

Larisa collapsed onto the floor with a bump and held her breath, waiting for someone to approach. No one came.

Rolling into a ball, she hugged her knees to her chin as she caught her breath and calmed her nerves. She might be through the window, but she was now trapped inside the apartment. There was no way she could go back out of the window. If she managed to wriggle out, she’d fall down the tower wall and die from her injuries.

She had no choice. Somehow, she had to convince Argothorn she was an elf and that she was here to help him.

Easy.

Larisa stood up and rested her hand on the window ledge. A cool breeze cooled her skin.

She wished she had a mirror. The climb had made her hot and her makeup might have run. Larisa looked down at her clothes. Thankfully she hadn’t torn the dress or cloak but there were smudges of dirt along the hem of the skirt and a patch of dust where her knee had rubbed the fabric on the window ledge.

Larisa brushed her clothes, but it made no difference. She’d have to go with it.

A groan yanked her attention from the state of her clothes. There was someone in the room beyond.

Argothorn? There was only one way to find out.

Her hands trembled as she smoothed her hair and she shook them, releasing the tension in her body. With a shake of her head, she straightened her back and assumed her role.

It was time.

Larisa tiptoed toward the door. If possible, she didn’t want Argothorn to know she’d scaled the tower. He’d be more likely to think she was an apparition if she simply appeared before him.

Why was she here? She’d never been more scared.

For Ivan. For her father and Simon. For Egan and Jacintha.

She touched the knife for comfort before she reached for the door handle and gently eased it down.

Praying that the door hinges were well oiled and not likely to give her away, she pulled the door toward her inch by inch.

When there was a big enough gap for her to slip through, she edged around the door, fully exposing herself to anyone who might be in the next room.

She paused and looked around, there was no one there.

Larisa hurried through the door and pulled it closed behind her.

She was in a short corridor. As she stood still, she listened for signs of life. There was someone else in the apartment. She’d heard them. But where were they?

A cough and the sound of something clattering across the floor answered her question.

Stepping to the left, she hugged the wall and followed the sounds of movement. A door on the other side of the corridor stood ajar. This was it. He was in there.

Larisa barely breathed as she tiptoed to the door and peered through the gap. Her heart thundered so loudly in her chest, she was certain the man in the room would hear it.

Or sense her? Why hadn’t he sensed her?

The man was bending down over the side of a sofa. He was trying to pick up whatever he’d dropped.

This was her chance.

She slid into the room and tiptoed to the far side of the room, making sure she stayed out of his line of sight. Then she stopped and turned to face him.

Larisa adjusted her cloak, pulling it around her, making sure the knife was hidden. Then she waited.

The man, thickset and balding, was cursing under his breath as he turned his body to the side and stretched farther. With a grunt, he finally got whatever he’d dropped and straightened up.

He didn’t turn around or even sense she was there. Perhaps Egan had gotten it wrong, and this wasn’t the right apartment.

Larisa eyed the door. But before she had a chance to run, the man finally turned around, a glass filled with an amber liquor in his hand.

She froze, but still, he didn’t seem to notice her. Had Jacintha given her an invisibility cloak?

“Argothorn.” She whispered his name so quietly he didn’t hear. “Argothorn,” she repeated, louder this time.

Argothorn flopped down in the seat, his eyes wide as he looked at her. A deep amber glow flickered in his eyes, and he snarled at her like a wild beast.

With enormous effort, she resisted the urge to pull out the knife to defend herself. Until he moved, until he threatened her, she would project outward calm.

“Argothorn, Dragon Lord of Cairnnor.” She fought through the fog of fear in her brain.

“Who are you?” he snarled.

She hadn’t come up with a name. Why hadn’t she thought of a name?

“Sylvian...a.” Did that sound like an elf name?

“Sylviana.” His brows furrowed. “How did you get in here?”

“You conjured me, oh, dragon lord.” Larisa channeled her inner elf. She was going to need good acting skills to get through this.

“I conjured you?” Argothorn got off the sofa and stood on unsteady feet. No wonder he hadn’t sensed her, he was drunk.

“You did.” Keep it simple, she reminded herself.

“Why?” Argothorn asked.

“Because it is time.” She bowed her head in reverence.

“Time for what?” Argothorn asked suspiciously.

“For you to ascend.” Ascension was always a good bet.

“Ascend?” Unless you were too drunk to comprehend the bigger picture, which Argothorn was.

“Yes. As the dawn rises over the fire pits of Tolarth, you will ascend and claim your dragon rider.” She kept her features smooth, expressionless as she waited for him to tell her to go away and stop talking nonsense.

“A dragon rider!” She’d gotten his interest.

“Yes.” She stepped forward but then froze as he stumbled to his feet. “We have been watching you, Argothorn, Dragon Lord.”

“You have?” he asked cautiously.

“There has never been such a dragon lord as you.” She wasn’t lying. But Argothorn grinned, thinking it was a compliment.

“I have controlled Cairnnor with an iron fist and with burning flame.” He sneered. “No one stands against me.”

“And will you carry me to the fire pits of Tolarth before dawn tomorrow and prove this?” She held her breath, waiting for an answer.

“I will.” He grabbed his glass and the contents sloshed around as he tilted his head back and drank the liquor in one shot.

It would be too easy to grab the knife and slit his throat.

But when Argothorn leaned down to place the empty glass on the table next to the bottle, his eyes rolled up into their sockets and he fell down onto the floor with a thud.

“You can stay right there,” she told him. “I’ll wake you up in the morning when it’s time to leave.”

Her hands shook as she went to the table and poured herself a small glass of liquor. “Cheers.” She raised her glass. “May you finally get what you deserve, Argothorn.”