Dragon's Heart (13 page)

Sitting back in his chair, Killian considered what the differences in the signature meant. The flourish was a private signal to each other that the note was genuine.
Is it possible Serena left it off on purpose? Is the note a well-done forgery? If either is true, what does it mean?
He thought back to the night of the ball, replaying the evening from the moment he’d seen Serena until they’d parted, searching for some clue, some hint she was putting on an act. He grasped her ring and whispered, “Wherever you are, my love, do what you must to stay safe and come back to me. Please, Gods, bring her home.”

The next day, Killian and Ryan worked through the forms, moving in sync, side-by-side. The prince felt the hot sun beating down on him, a trickle of sweat rolled from his hairline to his waist. As he went through the motions, his thoughts strayed to Serena and, for a moment, he saw her red hair in a long braid down the center of her back. She controlled movements as she practiced her deadly art. Killian stopped in the middle of a transition from one form to the next and dropped to a knee, feeling his heart constrict in his chest. All around him, he heard sharp gasps and a few high-pitched shrieks, but to his left, he saw Ryan moving. The guardsman sheathed his sword and knelt at Killian’s side.

“Are you well, Highness?” Ryan asked, genuine concern in his voice.

“No.” Killian’s voice was tight as though the young prince fought to keep some emotion under control. “Ryan, I am not well.”

He asked, “Would you like to stop?”

“No,” Killian said, shaking his head, “just give me a moment.”

“What happened?”

“I got distracted thinking about Serena and…” His voice trailed off, and Killian shook his head in frustration.

Ryan glanced around. The distraction was obvious. Apparently, every young lady of the court was standing beneath the trees, holding parasols. He knew each hoped to catch the prince’s eye and replace Serena in his heart. “I think I understand, and I’m sure having all the young ladies of the court watching your every move doesn’t help.”

“No.” Killian pushed himself to his feet while ignoring the chattering of noble women all around him. He sighed and turned to face Ryan. “Look, I know Serena kept you informed as to my training progress. She always said if something happened to her, she didn’t want me falling behind.” He rubbed his temples, considering how to continue. “Right now, I don’t need to work the forms.” He took a breath and plunged onward. “What I need is a bout. I need to work out some of this pent up energy. I’m going to go crazy if I don’t.”

“Practice swords,” Ryan answered without hesitation.

The prince shook his head. “No.”

“There is no way I am allowing you to fight with edged blades in your state of mind.”

“Blunted edges,” Killian countered. He shrugged. “Even Serena didn’t like working with edged weapons.”

“She worried about hurting you, my lord.”

“She worried about the consequences.”

“She worried about
you
.” The guardsman’s voice went soft, gentle.

“What?” Killian studied the other man, a look of genuine confusion on his face.

Ryan frowned for a moment before making a decision. He knew Serena had never told Killian how much each time she’d wounded him had hurt her. “Give me your sword, Highness.” The guardsman ordered the prince in such a way that Killian complied, handing over the practice sword without thinking. “You cannot practice properly here. Not right now. There are too many distractions.”

“Where do you suggest I practice? Or do you suggest I stop?” The prince’s voice cracked through the air like a whip.
No. No. I can’t stop. I can’t lose this one connection I still have with her. It will be like losing her again.

“I do not suggest you stop, my lord.” Ryan nodded and handed Killian back his sword. “It is clear you need it, for more than one reason. Beginning tomorrow, we will practice in one of the guard training rooms.”

“What about today?”

“We will continue, but you cannot allow yourself to become distracted like that again.”

“I understand.”

“There may be times when you are fighting at Serena’s side. Your concern for her cannot be allowed to distract you from your own fight.” Ryan took a deep breath, making an on-the-spot decision before he continued, “If you were to become distracted, you put not only yourself, but Serena, in danger.”

“How would my distraction put her in danger?”

“If she has to focus on your fight as well as her own, she’s not going to be in top form. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, your Highness, but you need to focus. If you can’t in practice, then you won’t be able to in a real fight.” Ryan was honest and watched Killian’s reaction for any sign of distrust.

Killian rubbed his temples and nodded. “I know.”

“Then you also know she would berate you, and bust your ass for letting what’s happening to her distract you from your swordplay.”

Killian laughed even though it lacked true mirth. A vision of Serena berating him for being careless flashed before his eyes. “You’re right.”

Ryan studied the prince for a moment before nodding. “Very well, are you ready to get back to work, your Highness?”

“Yes,” he said, accepting Ryan’s offered hand and pulling himself to his feet.

“Good.” Ryan took a few steps away from the prince and brought his sword up into the ready position. Killian stepped back, giving them more room. Whispers and high-pitched giggles wafted through the air from the crowd of spectators.

Ryan nodded, Killian returned the gesture, and they settled into fighting stances. Killian struck first, testing Ryan’s defenses. The guardsman’s sword blocked the prince’s with ease and flowed into an attack of his own.

The pair traded blows, their movements becoming more a dance than a fight. Killian fell into the rhythm, losing himself in the exertion to the point where he forgot about their audience, the yawing pit in his heart, even the burning in his muscles and lungs. Killian’s blade slipped past Ryan’s defenses, and he landed a solid hit on his shoulder.

Ryan stumbled back, clutched the injury and bent over, resting his free hand on his thigh just above his knee. Panting, Killian followed suit and stayed that way for several long minutes. He heard Serena’s voice in his mind, chastising him for pushing so hard. She was always the one who did that. He closed his eyes and whispered thanks and love to her, hoping wherever she was, she knew he was thinking of her.

“How do you feel now, Highness?” Ryan asked while still trying to catch his breath.

Killian inhaled and found he didn’t have the energy to answer with more than just a quick nod.

“Are we done for today?”

“I think Serena would be very angry with me if I tried to push myself further.”

“Yes, she would be.” Ryan straightened up and reached over his head to keep his muscles limber. “She’d also suggest you stretch, your Highness.”

Killian nodded and worked through a series of limbering exercises that had become as natural to him as breathing. His body moved on instinct alone, muscle memory taking over. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the action, the movement, the languid feel of exhaustion settling over him. After a few moments, he smiled and stopped moving, turning to face Ryan. “Thank you for the bout. I needed it.”

K
illian opened his eyes
, allowing them to adjust to the low light before he stood and explored the small room. He found her curled up in a corner, shielding herself from the cold with a thin blanket, wearing only a blood-stained shift. He knelt and reached out to touch her. “Serena,” he whispered as his fingers passed through her shoulder. “Oh, Gods.”

Behind him, the door opened, and a shaft of light filled the room for a moment before a shadow encompassed the space. Serena turned, haunted, horrified eyes on the figure in the doorway, but rose to her feet clutching the blanket to her chest as she faced her attacker. The other man chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down Killian’s spine. He put himself between Serena and the ruffian, not knowing how he was going to protect her but feeling a fierce need to try. The sellsword stalked toward her, a sneering smile twisting his features. He reached out, through Killian’s image, and grabbed her arm, dragging her forward, into him. With her free hand, Serena pushed against him and kicked out with her bare feet. The man caught her, wrenching both arms behind her back, the blanket falling to the floor.

“Your luck has run out, little girl,” the thug growled before he bit her earlobe.

Serena screamed.

Killian threw a punch aimed at the son of a whore’s head. His fist passed through the other man. “No,” Killian whispered. He sank to his knees, willing himself to remain where he was when the guy dragged Serena out of the room.

She struggled and wrenched her arms free, slipping past the brute as he laughed. “Where are you going, little girl?” The bastard followed Serena. Killian felt himself being pulled along behind them, although he didn’t want to see what might come next.

The unknown assailant caught up with Serena in the courtyard where the gates were closed, and the heavy portcullis was down. She turned to face her attacker and settled into a fighting stance. Killian watched as the man charged her. Serena waited until the last moment before stepping to one side, and the thug barreled past her. She was focused on her opponent and didn’t see the second man come up behind her.

“Serena,” Killian yelled just before the other one brought the hilt of a dagger down on the back of her head. Her body went rigid for a second before crumpling to the ground. Killian rushed to her side and dropped to his knees. “Serena, my love?” He tried to touch her face as her eyes fluttered open.

“Killian?” she whispered, not focusing on him.

“Shh, don’t talk.” He leaned in. “I love you, always.” He brushed a light kiss he knew she wouldn’t feel just behind her ear.

“Killian,” she repeated before everything went black.

“What in the name of the hells?” The prince stood and turned in a circle, but couldn’t see anything. The world came back in an explosion of sound and color, and in that instant, he wished the darkness would return.

Across the courtyard, Serena was suspended from her bound wrists. The shift hung in uneven strips from her shoulders, and red welts covered her body, several of which had split open and were oozing blood. Her eyes were closed; tears streamed down her face soaking the cloth cutting across her cheeks and mouth. Several men milled around, leering. The thug who had chased her to the courtyard dropped the long whip he carried. He licked his lips and strolled over to Serena, a low chuckle rolling from his throat.

“Our employer is dead, little girl. His daughter doesn’t care about what happens to you.” He kissed Serena’s cheek above the gag.

A haze of red washed over Killian’s vision, and he charged. At the moment, he should have slammed into the brute, but he fell through and stumbled to a halt on the other side. The other man ran his hands down Serena’s arms and clutched them tight around her throat. She closed her eyes and seemed to relax as if greeting death like an old friend or lover. He hooked his fingers into the gag and pulled it out from between her teeth.

“I’ve always wondered what noblewomen tasted like.” He crushed his lips against hers and forced his way into her mouth. She tried to pull away, her cry muffled, but he held her fast.

Killian raked a hand through his hair and began pacing. “Enough. I’ve seen enough. End this,” he shouted to no one in particular. “Why do you show me this? I couldn’t save her. I can’t stop these nightmares.” He threw back his head and bellowed his rage and pain to the heavens though he was certain no one listened. “I have failed her in every possible way.” He dropped to his knees, ignoring the spear of pain shooting through him.

A scream that wasn’t his or Serena’s filled the courtyard. Killian looked up in time to see her spit blood, and the thug who had been attacking her was stumbling back, blood flowing from his mouth too. He pulled his hand away from his chin and drew a dagger. “You bitch.” His speech was impaired. Her attacker brought the dagger up while Serena glared at him. When the weapon began its descent toward her chest, a flash of red appeared from one of the ramparts and a bolt of what looked like fire knocked the blade from the thug’s hand. Killian’s joy was cut short when a second lance hit Serena in the chest, wrapping around her before sinking into her body. A third bolt severed the rope holding her wrists above her head.

“No.” Killian raced to her side and knelt, his hands hovering over her still form. “Serena, please wake up. End this,” he begged. Hot tears streamed down his face.

“You need to see. You need to know,” a man on his right said.

“Need to know what?” When Killian turned to look, his vision swam, and a lance of pain shot through his own skull.

“Watch and learn.”

“Who are you?” Killian asked.

Serena cried out as her body started changing. Killian watched her bone structure transform. Her flesh turned into crimson scales, and as the horrified hired thugs looked on in stunned silence, she morphed into a small, red dragon. The men tried to flee, but found their exit blocked, the mechanism disabled, trapping them. When the creature swung its head in Killian’s direction, his heart skipped several beats before returning to normal. He knew those eyes. Impossible.

The dragon made quick work of her captors, and when the last man was dead, the strange newcomer stepped forward. The creature lunged for him. He put out his hand and touched the end of the beast’s snout. Its eyes slid shut as the dragon’s head dropped to the cobblestone.

Killian awoke, alone in his too-large bed, gasping for air. He clutched his hand to his chest as he regained first his breathing, and then his heartbeat, back to normal. A familiar ache pounded in his chest, feeling as though the separation from Serena was more than just physical distance. He sighed and lay back on his pillows. Closing his eyes, he focused on happier times while drifting back to sleep with the memory of her kiss filling his senses.

Late the next morning, Killian followed Ryan into the practice room and waited as the guardsman closed and bolted the door behind them. The prince frowned when he realized the other two guards had remained outside. He started to speak, to demand answers for what had happened, but the grim expression on Ryan’s face stopped him cold. “You have news?” The words came out quiet as if he were a condemned man asking for confirmation of a sentence he already knew.

“Lord Jeffery Dennsmore was killed last night.” Ryan paused, when there was no reaction from the prince, he continued, “From the reports the Royal Guards have received through the local constables, it seems as though an argument over gambling debts went very wrong.”

“That’s impossible.” Killian shook his head and backed away from Ryan.
No, it was just a dream. It can’t be true. Gods, please don’t let it be true.
“I have scheduled a meeting with him tonight. He knows where Serena is being kept.”

“I am sorry. I triple-checked the information from the authorities. Members of the guard are searching his suites in the castle. If we’re lucky—”

“What in the name of all the Gods does that mean,
if we’re lucky
?”

Before Ryan could respond, Killian drew his sword and had taken a wild swing. The guardsman dodged and drew his own weapon, going on the defensive. Ryan knew he had to hold the prince off long enough for Killian to work off the energy that grief and rage were giving him. Ryan dodged another wild swing and fell back, and the prince followed, pressing the attack, a wordless cry of rage slipping past his lips.

The guardsman lost track of time as they fought. Though the prince wasn’t quite as skilled, he had to be careful and not harm the royal. Killian, lost in his emotions, had no such scruples where Ryan’s welfare was concerned.

Feeling his reactions slowing, muscles burning, heart slamming in his chest, Ryan prayed that Killian would exhaust himself soon. He moved to block the prince’s blow when their swords met. Ryan felt resistance for a brief moment before it faltered and his blade arced toward Killian. Crying out, Ryan twisted while changing the path of the blade even as the prince sank to his knees. He released his blade, letting it clatter to the stone floor and dropped down in front of Killian.

“Are you hurt?” Killian asked, breaking the long silence.
Gods, I could have killed him
.

“It’s nothing that a few days of rest won’t fix.”

“Forgive me. I do not know what came over me.”

“You have been keeping everything inside for far too long, your Highness.” Ryan rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “And now, when you thought we were making some progress and might see Serena again, your one tie to her is severed before the culprit reveals what he knows. I am surprised you did not kill me.”

“I was trying,” Killian said, voice devoid of emotion.

Ryan nodded but realizing the prince couldn’t see it. “I know.”

“What do we do now? Dennsmore is dead. Have someone question Katia?”

“She may have nothing to do with her father’s plans.”

“We won’t know that for certain until we’ve had the chance to speak with her.”

“I know this is not what you want to hear, Killian,” he said and took a deep breath pressing on, “but you have to accept the fact that we may never learn what happened to Serena.”

Killian shook his head as fear twisted his heart. “No. I refuse to believe that.”

A knock at the door brought their discussion to an abrupt end. Within a second, Ryan was on his feet, sword in hand and in motion. He pulled the door open and spoke with someone on the other side for a moment before he nodded. “The prince will be up shortly.” After closing the door, Ryan turned to face Killian. “The queen and your father request your presence in her grace’s private study.”

Killian took a shaky breath and let it out on a long, slow count. “Was there any indication about their purpose?”

“No, Sire.”

“Very well.” Killian threw his shoulders back as he rebuilt the walls around his raw emotions. “Let us go see what my grandmother and father wish to discuss.” When Killian strode into the corridor, he became what he’d been trained to be his whole life. The distant, untouchable veneer of royalty was in place. No one could see his true feelings.

A few minutes later, he stepped into his grandmother’s study. After a quick bow to her and his father, Killian sat in one of the luxurious chairs on the opposite side of the queen’s desk.

“You wished to speak with me?”
I hope my voice sounds normal, even though I feel anything but.

“We have summoned you to discuss the marriage contracts that have been received both before and after you gained your majority,” his father said. “Since you are to be king, your grandmother and I thought it would be wise to include you in the negotiations.”

“This is about the marriage contracts?”
I thought the question of my marriage had been settled. I made my choice clear. Why are we having this discussion, yet again?

“You are heir to the throne,” the queen said. Her tone started out firm, then became gentle. “I know you cared for that girl but…” she trailed off not wanting to voice what everyone in the court believed, that Serena had led Killian on and for reasons no one could explain, had become frightened and fled.

“Serena… Grandmother, her name is Serena,” Killian’s voice slipped to a low throaty growl, and he gripped the arms of the chair so tight his fingers ached.

“She is gone. She is not coming back. You have to move on and do your duty.” His father wasn’t gentle; he never had been with any of his children. Their mother had been the tender one, but she had been dead for almost a decade.

Killian wondered if he would be sitting in this room, having this conversation, if his mother had survived. “Must we discuss this topic now?” Killian stood and paced, shaking his head as though that would make what he’d just heard untrue.

“You are of age, and there must be a clear line of succession.” The queen’s voice was stern, her face etched in hard lines, features carved of granite.

“If being your heir,
Father
, means subjecting myself to an arranged marriage,
and
the decision
must
be made today. Then, I
do not
want it.” Killian stood and met the shocked gazes of his grandmother and father. “I hereby relinquish all claim and right to the throne of Illedria for myself and all my heirs.” Having spoken, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, fighting to keep control of his emotions every step of the way. He was still a member of the royal family, and one did not show such naked emotion in front of servants and courtiers.