Priestess Dreaming (An Otherworld Novel) by Yasmine Galenorn Page B

white—sparkling with life and cunning.
    “Who are you?” The voice echoed in my head. “Who are you . . . ?
What
are you?” And then, the voice became a questioning tendril, probing my thoughts, reaching out to test, to discover, to seek answers. “I smell the Raven on you, and the Black Beast.”
    I pulled back, but didn’t break contact. I wanted to know what this was, and why we were connecting. Dragon he was, definitely, but like no dragon I’d met. This wasn’t a dragon from Smoky’s realm, from the Dragon Reaches, but something old and crafty, alien to the nature of dragons as I knew them. He swirled in an abyss, a creature of fire, clinging to what appeared to be some sort of orb. Obsidian, perhaps, or jet, or onyx.
    I circled him, wary, trying to keep out of his peripheral vision. As I scoped out the creature, I sought for any tidbits of information I might be able to glean—for any clues that might come in handy when I . . . when I what?
    “Cunning creature you are.” The dragon spoke again, interrupting my thoughts. “Bring the Raven to me and I might let you live.”
    The feel of the raven feather in my fingers made me leery. The dragon wanted it too much. And where there was that much greed and lust, danger wouldn’t be far behind.
    I let out a slow whistle of breath. No chance in hell would I get its name, dragons didn’t offer their names up without a fight. Hell, I
still
didn’t know Smoky’s real name. That he was called Iampaatar in the Dragon Reaches was common knowledge, but his true name? No one but he and his mother knew. So I didn’t expect to find out anything useful by asking. But if I could gain some sort of reference, then we might be able to trace its origins and discover what we were facing.
    “Tell me who you are and I might tell you where I’m hiding the Raven.” I had no clue what the whole “hiding raven” thing was about, but I might as well use it to my advantage.
    A pause, then a long, low chuckle. “
Ohhhh. I see now.
You are one of the Fae—though I smell human in the mix. And you are magical as well. And crafty and as ready with your false promises as I am. Girl, you know I would never give you my name, but you may call me Yvarr. Not that it will do you any good, but when I wake and escape this prison, we will meet. And girl . . . you will need a name to cry out when I devour you. Because unless you hand over the Raven to me, then I shall, indeed, eat you, skin and bones.”
    I gazed at the piercing eyes, and my fear began to drain away. He was frightening, yes, and terribly powerful with a keen sense of magic, but his arrogance was strong. As I’d discovered before, ego often led to a downfall.
    Another moment, and the abyss into which I’d tumbled vanished, along with the dragon and his fire. I opened my eyes, still clutching the raven feather, and inhaled sharply, letting out my breath in a slow stream. Derisa gazed at me, waiting.
    “Fucking hell.” Shade was shaking. “I have
no
desire to be anywhere near his vicinity.”
    “Neither do I.” Smoky paled. “I never thought we’d encounter one of them. Did you?”
    Shade gave a quick shake of the head. “I knew they weren’t myth but . . . I thought they had all fallen into history, into sleep forever.”
    “Well, obviously one of them has woken. I pray he never gets free from his prison. For all our sakes.” Smoky actually looked afraid—not a good sign.
    So both Smoky and Shade knew what this was? And whatever the strange dragon was, it scared the hell out of both of them. That didn’t bode well. “Explain, please?”
    “Allow me.” Derisa leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, a stark look on her face. “Well this pair should know what you are facing, given their backgrounds. An ancient power is waking in the depths, one the great Fae Lords thought they’d imprisoned long ago.” She seemed to be considering her words cautiously, as I did when I was trying to figure