Dragon Heat (Dragons of Perralt Book 2) (8 page)

She took Flint's hand and slowly exited the carriage. It took every ounce of her control not to gawk at the large house, the dozens of servants, all dressed in fine livery, or the finely dressed ladies and gentleman preceding them into the house.

Taking Flint's arm, she glanced up at him and nodded slightly. He looked down at her with twinkling eyes and smiled that killer smirk of his, then patted her hand.

And they were off.

They were greeted at the door by the Ambassador himself. A short man with thinning hair. His eyes sparkled with merriment. Not what she had pictured as an Ambassador. A woman of middle years and growing girth stood next to him. She looked nervous and kept shooting glances at Flint as if she was afraid the man would be displeased.

“Welcome, Your Highness,” the Ambassador said to her, as he stepped forward and bowed at the waist. His wife immediately dropped into a deep curtsy.

Laila blanched. She and Emily had practiced this a dozen times. But, it was different in real life.

Taking a deep breath, she told herself she could do this. Flint squeezed her hand, giving her a shot of confidence. Lowering herself slightly in just a hint of curtsy, she returned the greeting.

“Thank you, Sir Claremont, and you Lady Claremont. It was so nice of you to invite me tonight.”

“Our pleasure,” the Ambassador said, as he glanced at Flint. “It was the least we could do.”

The couple turned and escorted them into the house. Both of their faces looked concerned. Almost as if they feared entering their own house.

The door opened into a large receiving area, to the left, a large open room awaited, full of people. There must have been thirty of them. Everyone dressed in expensive clothes. Each of them looking at the new arrivals.  Inspecting, evaluating, wondering.

Laila’s skin threatened to erupt into a dozen blemishes. Her stomach tightened. Every person in the place was examining the new Princess. Each of them wondering where she was from and who she was really.

Gritting her teeth, she allowed Flint to take her arm and walk her into the room.

Candles and lamps burned throughout the room. Giving it a lively glow and leaving the faint hint of burnt wax throughout the room.

A white banner hung on the far wall. A red two-headed dragon graced the silk fabric. The same two-headed dragon stamped on Flint’s coin. The coin inside the locket hanging around her neck.

She quickly shot Flint a questioning look.

The Ambassador caught her obvious curiosity at the banner. “The new coat of arms for Lushcany,” he said. “Our new queen changed them last year after her marriage to the new crown prince.”

Laila’s world shifted. What was going on, what did it mean? Was it coincidence, or was there some hidden meaning.

Flint leaned forward and whispered, “I’ll explain later, I promise.”

“You better,” she said, as she glanced once more at the banner. That was one question she was not going to let him avoid.

Before she could think more on the matter, though, she was swamped with introductions and welcomes from the guests. She found herself separated from Flint as women tried to monopolize her time and attention.

Laila smiled to herself. These women were no different than the women of Fifth Point. The only real difference was that here, she was the center of attention. Not a gutter snipe, someone to be ignored or feared less she contaminate them.

It was amazing what a pretty dress and a handsome man on your arm could do for a woman’s reputation.

Flint tried not to smile too much. They were buying it. All of the guests had believed what they had been told. But then, why wouldn’t they. A beautiful, mysterious woman arrives in town. An Ambassador welcomes her from a distant land.

Of course, they would believe it. But, Laila had confirmed it. Her poise, her beauty, her inner strength. It spoke of royalty. She couldn’t be anything but a princess.

He studied her for a moment. Watched the way she handled the crowd of women around her. Gently answering some questions, deflecting others. She was perfect.

His heart grew with admiration for her. And you’re letting her go, he thought. You idiot. You absolute idiot.

“You are an idiot,” Lady Emily said, as she sidled up next to him.

He glanced down at his friend and laughed. “You’re probably right, but just so we are talking about the same thing. Why am I an idiot?”

The woman didn’t take her eyes off of Laila as she said, “Because you’re letting her go. Giving her away. A woman like that doesn’t come along that often that you can let them go.”

“I’m not the marrying kind.”

Emily laughed, “How well I know.”

“Besides,” Flint continued, “the woman wants a prince.”

“Ha,” Emily scoffed. “The woman wants you. The way she looks at you. It’s like you saved her from a fate worse than death or something. You are her hero. You will always be her hero. And, you’re throwing away the best thing that could have ever happen to you. A woman you want who wants you back.”

Flint remained silent as he took another sip of his drink. The fact that Lady Emily was confirming what his heart was yelling at him, only made things worse.

The two of them stood silently next to each other as they watched Laila command the room’s attention. At last, she broke away from the gaggle of her new admirers and made her way back to Flint and Emily.

“Lady Emily,” Laila said, as she approached them, “I think it’s working.”

“I know it is,” Emily said. “You are doing wonderfully, my dear.”

“Thank you so much, I couldn’t have done it without you,” Laila said, taking Emily’s hands in hers.

Emily smiled back at the young woman, then looked up meaningfully at Flint.

He coughed as he fought to find his voice. “Yes, Laila, you are doing wonderfully. You will have that Prince hooked and landed in no time.”

Laila’s eye clouded over for a moment, then she gave a weak smile and turned back to look at the crowd.

Emily shot him a look of disdain and shook her head. Turning to Laila, the woman said, “Come along, dear. There is someone I want you to meet.”

The two woman left him, but not before Emily gave him another look of clear disappointment.

Flint shrugged it off. He wasn’t the marrying kind, he reminded himself. Besides, Laila deserved the best.

Taking another drink from a passing tray, he searched the room for somewhere to be alone with his thoughts. A private corner or a deeper shadow. Somewhere where he could just be. These parties were frustrating, tiring, and irritating all rolled up in one.

He desperately missed the silent solitude of the valley at home. That comforting quiet without demands or expectations.

Sighing to himself he started for the far corner when a hand gripped him briefly on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” a voice said. “Mr. Flint is it?”

Flint turned to examine this new interruption. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and he didn’t know why. Everything about the man set off alarms in his head.

Dressed in a gray jacket with prematurely gray hair. The man was strong and robust with charcoal eyes and a nasty scar on his neck.

“Yes?” Flint said, as he shrugged off the hand holding his shoulders.

The man smiled. “Allow me to introduce myself. You can call me Mr. Gray.”

How appropriate, Flint thought as he felt the beast inside of him start to rise. What was it about this man that triggered so many alarms?

“What can I do for you, Mr. Gray?” he asked.

The man’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Oh, it is what I can do for you.

Flint raised an eyebrow in question as he waited for the man to provide more information. He knew instinctively not to believe a word this man said. Everything would be shaped and carved to meet his needs.

The man, Mr. Gray, turned away to stare across the room at Laila and Lady Emily talking to an older couple. Flint didn’t know who they were, but it didn’t really matter. At this party, everyone was important.

“Truly remarkable,” Mr. Gray said with a slight shake of his head. “Only two weeks from an alley in Fifth Point to the Ambassador’s party and perhaps a prince. Remarkable.”

Flint’s blood froze, his breath halted, and his muscles tensed. Everything they had worked for. The coin. Everything was in danger.

He had been right. His beast was never wrong. Who was this man and what did he know? Even more important, what did he want?

Turning to place himself between the man and Laila. He stared him in the eye. The man stared back, unafraid. Almost welcoming a fight.

Flint felt the tension rising between them. That testosterone tension of two alpha males challenging each other. For a brief moment, he wondered if he was about to ruin any chance Laila had at getting her prince. Was he about to fight this man here on the floor of the Ambassador’s party?

They continued to stare at each other. Flint could feel the hate in the other man’s cold eyes. Why?

The absence of his sword felt like a lost arm. He felt exposed and vulnerable without it. For some reason, he was sure the man across from him was armed. He seemed like the kind of man who would pull a dagger from inside his jacket and stab him in the back if he had the opportunity.

Well, Flint wasn’t going to give him a chance. Besides. The man didn’t know about the beast that raged inside of him. If he had, Mr. Gray would be quaking in his boots and pissing down his pants.

The moment seemed to drag on for hours. But, after only a short time, the man backed down.

“Not here, not now,” he said. “But, soon. I will have what belongs to me and mine, soon.”

Flint’s brow narrowed in confusion, then it struck him. The man was after the coin. Again, why?

“Until we meet again, Flint,” the man said, as he gave him one last glare. Then turning, he walked away. His head up, turning his back on Flint as if he knew perfectly well that he was safe.

A sense of failure passed over Flint. He should have killed the man when he had the chance. He would regret this failure, he just knew it. Somewhere in the future, he would regret not killing the man when he had the opportunity. To hell with shocking the Ambassador’s guests. They could use a little excitement anyway.

Once the man was lost in the crowd, Flint turned back to check on Laila. Lady Emily was frantically gesturing for him to come and join them.

Great. Out of the fire and into the frying pan.

Flint made his way over to the two women.

“He’s arriving,” Emily hissed. “The Ambassador has stepped outside to greet him.”

Laila’s face had turned as white as chalk and her lower lip trembled. She was terrified. Why she had convinced the guests, she was beautiful, strong, she had nothing to fear. The Prince would love her.

His heart ached. Thoughts of the Gray man disappeared. Worries about his family, everything, disappeared.

There comes a moment in life. A moment that is usually only recognized in hind sight. That moment where everything changes. It takes a path unforeseen. Unfortunately, Flint could see it happening as it occurred. This was the moment when he lost her. The moment that his life took a turn for the worst.

.o0o.

Laila thought her heart was going to break through her rib cage, it was pounding so hard. This was the moment. Everyone was depending on her. The people of Fifth Point. Flint, for his damn coin. Even Emily. She had worked so hard. This was the turning point for the rest of her life.

The wide doors opened, and a man stepped in. Laila’s heart stopped dead in its tracks and fell to the floor at her feet. The man was a toad.

Dressed in brown and tan, He probably stood barely over five and a half feet. His hips were wider than his shoulders. With a pudgy stomach that hung over his belt. His thin brown hair looked like someone had washed it in pig’s urine. To top it off, he had three ugly red pimples on his forehead. Each one, bigger than the last.

Laila thought she would be sick right there in front of everyone. This was her prince? She would be spending the rest of her nights in bed next to this?

The thought sent recurring shudders throughout her body. In long oscillating waves, they continued to pass through her. Building the gut wrenching revulsion with each one.

‘Laila,' she chastised herself. How dare you judge him solely on his looks? Maybe he is a nice man. Maybe he is funny and kind to animals. You shouldn’t judge him …”

At that point, the new prince turned, and slapped one of his guardsmen. His open hand catching the big man directly on the cheek. Standing up on his toes and leaning forward, the prince said something to the man that made his face turn red with embarrassment.

Laila couldn’t tell what the Guardsman had done to deserve such a reprimand, especially in public, but her heart went out to him.

She looked at the prince again. Desperately seeking any sign of goodness or worth. Instead. All she saw was a small, pampered, useless bag of crap. The kind of man who uses his position and wealth to force others to his will.

Her heart began to beat again as she shot Flint a glance.

He looked back at her and cocked his head to the side. As if to say, ‘you wanted a prince.’

Laila huffed. This was not what she wanted. But, it was probably what she would end up with. It was either this or return to Fifth Point. The slums and alleys of hell, where she would spin out her few remaining years scrambling for something to eat. All the while, defending her virtue and guarding her back.

Let’s see, a life of misery or a life of pain. You choose, Laila.

Flint looped her right arm in his and patted her hand. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “We will find another prince somewhere.”

“That’s right,” Lady Emily said from her other side. “I am sure we can find someone else.”

Laila scoffed and shook her head. “Yeah right? Like princes grow on trees around here. I’m a girl from Fifth Point, remember? I’ve seen worse.”

She straightened her back and lifted her chin. Then, looking at Flint, she raised an eyebrow, silently commanding him to escort her to the Prince.

Flint stared down at her for a long moment. As if trying to decide if he would comply or not. A fleeting sense of maybe flashed through her, but it was just as quickly killed a merciful death. Flint sighed heavily, then began leading her to the Prince.

The Ambassador quickly spotted their approach and began fidgeting in place. This was his moment, Laila realized. He looked like he was about to be served his favorite desert. Anticipation and hope mixed together in equal amounts.

“Your Highness,” the Ambassador said to the Prince, “may I introduce Princess Laila of Perralt. - Princess, Prince Jeffery, of Caylan.” The ambassador smiled at them both.

The Prince stood there looking down at her from his lofty five foot six. His eyes traveling over her body from her face, down over her hips all the way to her feet, then back up again. Laila felt like a piece of meat in the butcher’s window. Her skin crawled, and her temper began to rise. If they’d been in Fifth Point, that look would have got him a dagger to the ribs.

Not here, she reminded herself. You are not in Fifth Point, and this isn’t some alley tough. This is a prince. A prince with a castle.

He finally stopped examining her body and raised his eyes to meet hers. At least for a moment. They did have a habit of dropping back down to peruse her breasts.

“I am told you are in search of a husband,” he said with a haughty voice that made her want to take a bath. He reminded her of the lizard eyed man from the alley. The one Flint had so kindly run through the heart with his sword.

You are a princess, she reminded herself. Do not let them see you falter.

“And, I am told that you are in search of a wife,” she said with her best princess voice. The one that made it sound like she knew what she was talking about.

He halted for a moment and stared into her eyes. At last, he seemed to come to some kind of conclusion.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps.”

The air in the room suddenly became breathable again as everyone relaxed. This was to be a merger of titles, she reminded herself. And that first critical point had come and gone without any embarrassment or family dishonor.

“Would you like to take a walk with me, Princess?” the short man said as he held out his arm for her.

Laila gulped, then quickly glanced at both Lady Emily and Flint. The pair looked at her like lost puppies, afraid and excited at the same time.

Gathering herself, she placed her hand on the Prince’s. It was like resting her hand on a pillow. Not very substantial and as permanent as a breath of air.