Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) Read Free Page B

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    Mecador opened a wooden door and pulled her into a room. A fire in the fireplace on the wall next to the entrance to a second room burned cheerfully. A table and two chairs stood against the side wall. Hooks adorned the other wall.
    She saw comfort such as she recalled from her home. The chairs were cushioned. An oil lamp on the table waited to be lit. Through the doorway she saw a sleeping chamber. A massive bed with wooden posts and curtains that could enclose the bed, a cushioned chair, a small table, and a long one completed the furnishings.
    Mecador dragged her into the sleeping chamber. “Three times a day food will be delivered. You may eat what he doesn’t. There is no reason for you to leave these rooms, and if you are found in the hall without an escort you will be punished.” He pointed to a doorway on the side of the room. “The necessary for washing and all other matters is in there.”
    Lorana walked to the massive bed. A blanket covered Arton’s lower body. She turned to the older man. “He needs to be turned to his stomach so I can see and treat the puncture wounds.”
    He snapped his fingers. Cregan appeared immediately. Lorana tensed. Would the burly man be constantly present? Would he prevent her from finding things to aid in her escape?
    “Turn him on his stomach,” Mecador commanded.
    Cregan pressed close enough to run a hand over her hip. She edged back and nearly collided with the older wizard.
    Lorana approached the bed. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the men had left. She placed her supplies on the table where a cluster of fyrestones formed an intricate pattern on a leather tray. She returned to the bed and touched the places where the thorns had penetrated his skin. Several retained bits of the tips. She needed a knife.
    His blue dragon hide trousers hung on the edge of the bed. A sheath on the belt produced a knife. She cleaned the blade with liquid distilled from pine sap. One by one she cut the skin around the wounds and removed the foreign matter. She mixed drops of the poison with an equal amount of the cordial. She added this to a bit of lard and treated each area where thorns had pierced his back and arms. She covered the treated areas with cloth and managed to turn him onto his back. The ends of the cloth were tied to keep the dressing secure.
    His labored breathing troubled her. In a large cup of hot water taken from the bathing room she blended a mixture of herbs. After adding sweetened syrup and a measure of spirits, she returned to the bed.
    She raised his head with a pillow and spooned liquid into his mouth. At first she had to massage his throat to encourage swallowing. He managed the last of the dose on his own. Soon his breathing steadied. A sheen of perspiration covered his face and chest.
    Lorana filled a basin with water and wiped away the river of perspiration. Her fingers stroked his chest feeling the way the hair swirled. She edged the blanket lower to expose the rest of his body. As she wiped the cloth over his abdomen she saw his male part grow longer and thicker.
    Her face heated. Her breasts felt heavy and her nipples peaked. A tendril of heat flowed to her private places. As quickly as possible she washed sweat from his legs and pulled the covers over him.
    She slumped in the chair beside the bed. Why was heat cascading through her? She didn’t understand what had caused these sensations. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
    ‘Escape. Come to me.’
    Her eyes flew open. Had she heard a dragon’s voice? How could that be? Many years ago the wizards had killed the dragons of this land. All but the ones who had fled over the mountains had died beneath the power of the wizard’s wands. These evil men used dragon skins to make their clothes.
    Arton moaned. Lorana rose. She made another brew of herbs and encouraged him to drink. One thing she knew, if he survived the massive dose of thorn poison he would be immune.
    Lorana returned to the chair and dozed.