Dragon's Heart (16 page)

Tears filled Serena’s eyes, but as they spilled over, she dropped back onto the bed. She brought her hand up to wipe her wet cheeks and caught sight of the shirt cuff again. Killian’s scent filled her nose while the sound of his voice drifted through her mind at the forefront of the continuous whispers. “I…” she let out a shaky breath, “I have to go back.”

“Princess, you will find there is little our people will deny you.” Altus took a deep breath. “However, it would not be safe for you to return to Haven at this time.”

“Not safe?”

“Yes. I can’t be certain what happened, but knowing Rafe and Ellesandra as I did, I feel confident in saying they used their last breaths to cast the spell, concealing your identity for all of these years. With that spell broken, the dragon that resides within all of our kind will want to be freed.”

“What?”

“Each of our kind possesses the ability to become a dragon. You did it when you killed your Dark Fey conspirator captors and flew off. After you had been gone for so long, I thought you’d lost yourself and wouldn’t return, that you’d remain a dragon forever. It has been known to happen.”

“I didn’t. I came back here, and I’m just fine.”

“Close your eyes, princess.”

Serena hesitated for a moment before she complied with his request and waited.

“Listen,” he whispered. “Do you hear the heartbeat?”

Serena nodded, it was in perfect counterpoint with her own, a second deeper sound.

“That is the heart of your dragon. You feel the fire. The burning heart of what you… we are. You have been away from our people far too many years and will not have control of your dragon among the humans. It will be even more difficult if you are in highly emotional situations.” He paused, letting his words sink in. She frowned and, for a moment, her face fell as realization dawned. “I am sorry, princess, it is not safe. For you, or anyone else.”

“Gods, no,” she whispered. Dragging a hand through her hair, she pushed to her feet and stumbled across the room, catching herself on the wardrobe, panting. She sensed something was wrong but refused to acknowledge it. Serena held onto the wardrobe, so she didn’t fall to the floor. “There has to be a way. I can’t let him go on like this, thinking I’m either dead or worse, or that I don’t love him. Please, Altus, there has to be a way.”

He pinched his whiskered chin with two fingers as if deep in thought. “Tell me. Now that you’re separated from your love, how does it feel?”

“Why is that important?”

“I will tell you once you have answered the question.”

Serena frowned and lowered herself onto the small bench beside the wardrobe.
Why shouldn’t I answer his question? Maybe he can help. He seems to know a lot about what’s going on.
“I feel as though half of me has died. I’m missing a large, important part of myself. I can get through the days, but the world is a darker place.”

Altus swore in a language that tugged at the edge of her memory.

Serena heard a woman’s voice, one similar to her own, scolding someone who replied with a lilt of laughter in his words.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I believe we can and must work something out. The plan will require patience and understanding on your part, princess, and time. Perhaps several months.” He paced, raking a hand through his silver hair. “With time, you will be able to master your dragon enough to interact with human society again. Though I must ask why?”

“Why what?”

“Why must you return to the human world? Your beloved could be brought here and live amongst our kind. It has not often been done, but it is not unheard of,” Altus said.

Serena reached up and massaged the back of her neck. “That’s impossible. He would never abandon his people.”

Altus nodded, not wanting to push her any further on the subject. He suspected the princess was just as stubborn as her mother had been, but much like his late cousin, could be made to see reason if handled properly. “We can reach out to him. Explain the situation.”

Serena shook her head.
That won’t work. He won’t stay away. I wouldn’t.
“Whatever reason we come up with, whatever lie we tell him, it has to be something that will keep him away. He has a duty to his people and cannot rush to my side on a whim. He is needed there.”

Altus thought about it for a few moments. “Illness. Write to him, and tell him you are ill, and the healers have forbidden you to travel. Tell him all will be well, but you don’t want to risk his health too.” He paused. “It is not precisely a falsehood, yet also not the complete truth.”

Serena stood, still leaning against the wardrobe for support though her legs felt a little steadier underneath her. “I think I know what to do. I need a private place where I can write a letter and a messenger to deliver it safely to the palace in Haven.”

“The palace?”

“Yes.” She pulled the door of the wardrobe open and stared at the contents of her closet from Haven. Reaching inside, she touched one of the dresses Killian had ordered for her, his gift. One was missing, the gown she’d worn to his naming day ball.

“Why the palace?”

“That is where the message’s recipient lives.”

Serena answered confirming Altus’s suspicions about her beloved.

“I will make all the necessary arrangements. Since it appears you will not rest as you should, why don’t you get dressed? When you are ready, meet me in the study, and I can give you a tour of your home. After that, you can write the message.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, princess.” He bowed before leaving the room.

Once she was alone, Serena took several deep breaths, fighting the urge to break down.
I have to keep my emotions in check. Losing control, while satisfying, isn’t going to help the situation. I need to get dressed, talk to Altus, and figure out each step in turn so I can return to Haven… and Killian.

She let out a shaky breath.
One thing at a time.
As she talked herself through the plan, she walked to one of the trunks and gathered clothes, donning them like armor, a touchstone of the life where she desperately wanted to return.

When she stepped out of the room a short time later, Serena found herself facing a trio of the most disparate women she’d seen in a very long time. As a unit, they turned to face her and curtsied, all murmuring some version of her title or honorific.

“How can I help you, ladies?”

The one with purple and silver hair stepped forward, dipping her head for a second before speaking. “We are your advisors and your guards. Altus asked us to escort you to the council chamber when you rose.”

“You are what?” Serena’s tone was firm, almost imperious, without being demanding.

“I warned Altus she’d be pissed,” the one on the left said. Her short-cropped hair, styled in messy spikes, was a spectrum of greens from so dark it appeared black to pale, almost white. The hilt of a half sword peeked out from behind her leather armor-clad shoulder.

“I’m not moving until I have some answers.” Serena folded her arms over her chest. “Simple questions. Your names and why Altus thought I needed three escorts.”

“I am Zanna. Altus believed we should accompany you as protection.”

The Dragon Fey with purple and silver hair, and eyes to match, held a staff in one hand. She was shorter than the other two. “It seems not all of our people are happy you’re safe and returned to us.” At Serena’s questioning look she added, “I am Bronwynn, your Highness.”

“I am a trained fighter, have held the rank of lieutenant in the Illedrian military, was a candidate for the Royal Guard and can handle myself in a fight.”

“Your Highness, I am Sibohan, and none of us doubt your ability, princess. You are, after all, your father’s daughter.” She stood in the middle, her hands resting on the hilts of daggers at her hips. “However, it has been months since you trained. You were injured and are still healing from several wounds. Altus and your council agreed that having three personal bodyguards was wise. A few members of the council argued for more but were persuaded to see a compromise. As Lady Bronwynn has said, not all are pleased you have returned.”

“Why?”

“You are barely more than a year from reaching the age of majority for our kind. At which time, you will ascend to your mother’s throne. Had you not returned, any of the noble families could have put forth candidates. There would have been a vote among the council.”

“Can they still challenge my right to inherit my mother’s throne?”

Bronwynn sighed. “The situation is complicated, Highness. Ceremonies and traditions have not been followed. You should have ruled at your mother’s side for several years. Since the age of sixteen.”

“How long do queens rule?”

“Usually not more than a century. Some have governed longer if no daughter has yet been born. Others have chosen to step down sooner for their heirs.”

“So since I didn’t accept the princess’s crown at age sixteen and hadn’t been ruling at my mother’s side for the past…” she paused glancing down as she made the calculation, “four years, the noble clans have the right to challenge my ability to rule? It doesn’t matter that my whole family was killed when I was five, and I’ve been living among the humans since then?”

Bronwynn considered the princess’s words for several moments and nodded. “Yes.”

“And if things had been done in the proper fashion?”

“Then challenges would have been brought before the council. They would have to prove some reason you were unfit to rule.”

Serena shook her head and put one hand to her temple. “How many noble families are there?”

“Ten. Of those, only three have daughters of proper age,” Bronwynn answered. “However, when the throne has not been claimed, a male can put forth a challenge. It is the only way our people can be ruled by a king.”

“So how many noble families have daughters
or
sons who could challenge me for the throne?”

“Five. Three females and two males who are of proper age and families.”

Serena leaned against the wall. Her eyes wide. “I could face five challenges to my right to rule?”

Bronwynn shrugged. “In theory, I suppose. However, two of your potential challengers have no interest in the position, so my best guess is at most three.”

“Why would anyone challenge me?”

“For the same reasons one might try to take any throne. Power, wealth. In your case, fear. They do not know you.”

“Because the Dark Fey murdered my entire family when I was five years old.”

“The reasons why do not matter in the end, Highness. Only the fact that your people do not know who you are or how you might rule over them. It is cause for concern.”

“I see.” Serena nodded. “How are these challenges made and decided?”

“Combat is the most common,” Zanna interjected, “though there are other ways.”

“And if I don’t want the throne?”

“There are ways.” Bronwynn stepped forward. “Please princess, we really should get you to Altus.”

“Am I meeting with Altus alone or will the rest of this council be there, as well?”

The purple Dragon Fey frowned. “It will be just you and Altus for now. The surviving members of your mother’s council have been recalled though they have not arrived.”

“How were they consulted if they’re not here?”

“Our soothsayers have a way to communicate with one another.

“What about the council members who did not survive? What about their seats?”

“The clans who lost councilors will send new representatives, Highness.”

Serena nodded. “How long until they arrive?”

“Some of them will be here in a matter of days, but others will take longer.”

Serena nodded and pushed away from the wall, her hands resting on the hilt of her sword as it hung on her right hip. “I suppose I must learn what it means to be a Dragon Fey Queen. I am my mother’s heir, so I will live up to my birthright.” She turned and strode down the hall, head held high, shoulders squared and back straight. The three Dragon Fey ladies had to jog to keep up with her.

K
illian sat at his desk
, his right arm in a sling, a reminder not to use it while it healed. Spread in front of him were the most recent communications from Lakeshire. He’d taken over many of Serena’s duties with regard to governing her province since her disappearance. While focused on the household accounts in front of him, he didn’t notice a soft tapping on the door.

“Your Highness.” Thomas stepped into Killian’s study. He waited until the prince looked up, a question in his eyes. “Gerald, the chief archivist, has the information you requested.”

Killian’s heart skipped a beat and kicked up a notch. He took a deep breath and set his quill aside. “Send him in, and ask Captain Ryan to join us as well, please.” Any other member of his family or the court wouldn’t have been polite about the request. They would have ordered and expected obedience.

“Of course, Highness.” Thomas bowed and left Killian alone with his thoughts.

Silence pressed in around him, he laid his hand over Serena’s ring and did the only thing he’d been able to do since she disappeared, prayed for her safe return or some clue that would lead him to her.

A few moments later, the door opened, and Ryan stepped into the room, followed by a small, man who stood hunched over and walked with a limp. Tufts of white hair poked out from under the leather cap he wore.

“Your Highness,” the old man’s voice trembled though Killian knew it had nothing to do with fear. The man’s demeanor said he was familiar with royalty. “I have found the information you asked me to research.”

“Thank you.” Killian forced himself to stick to the niceties in spite of his desperate desire to know. “What have you found?”

“I must admit the work took me longer than I had expected. And my conclusions are rather strange, your Highness,” the older man said while setting a large, thick tome on the prince’s desk. “The particular item is something that has not been seen for at least twenty years, perhaps more.” He opened the book to a page more than halfway through. “What you found was once the sigil of house Arryan.” He tapped a rendering of the seal with one gnarled finger.

“I’ve never heard of that house before.” Killian reached out and traced the drawing with his fingers.

“That is because they were a Dragon Fey clan.”

Ryan scoffed. “The Dragon Fey are a myth. A fanciful tale of dragons mating with fey before both races died out.”

“No, Captain,” the scholar said while shaking his head, “the Dragon Fey are not myth. They are, in fact, quite real. Though it is believed their numbers have dwindled with too few left for them to be a force in the world anymore.”

“They are creatures of magic like the fey? Magic has died out. It is no longer in the world. How can a magical race survive?” Ryan asked.

“Magic is too powerful to be obliterated. I, and many others, believe it has simply changed, become something else in order to survive.” The archivist turned to Killian. “If I may be so bold, your Highness, may I ask how you came across this?”

“It was attached to a letter from Lady Harlowe after she disappeared. Why?”

“Because it hasn’t been seen for so long. Forgive me, Highness, but it is an old man’s curiosity and nothing more.”

Killian nodded. “Thank you. That will be all.” He watched as the archivist shut the book, tucked it under one arm and hobbled out of the room.

After the door had shut, Ryan crossed to the desk and stood across from where the prince sat. “What are you thinking?”

He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and sighed. “It seems every time I get close to finding or discovering what happened, she slips further and further away.”

“I know you do not want to hear this, but perhaps it’s time you come to terms with the fact that she is beyond your reach.”

“In my heart, I know she’s not dead, Ryan. Don’t ask me to explain it, but…” His words trailed off as the image of the dragon’s eye flashed in his mind, tugging at a memory.

“Even if you’re right, that does not mean she’ll be coming back.” Ryan’s voice broke into Killian’s reverie, and the image vanished.

Killian laughed and shook his head. “Even with my title and position, I couldn’t protect the woman I love… the woman I’d hoped to make my wife.”

“I’ve known Serena for years. I know she wouldn’t blame you. Wherever she is, she loves you. She fought her feelings for you as long as she could, but in the end, she was powerless. As her friend, and I hope yours, I believe you honor her by continuing to be the man, and someday the ruler, she trusted you would be.”

“I miss her every moment of every day.”

“I know.” Ryan nodded, “Perhaps that will ease with time.”

“You have my thanks.” Killian closed his eyes, fighting the pain twisting his heart. “And please tell whoever was involved in the search, they have my personal gratitude.”

Ryan nodded and offered the prince a respectful bow. “Will there be anything else?”

“Please ask Thomas to clear my schedule for the rest of the day. I need some time to myself.”
To mourn. To let go and try to find a way to move forward without her.

“Yes, Highness. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Killian.”

The prince hung his head and closed his eyes, breath leaving his body with a heavy sigh. Ryan turned and walked out of the room, leaving his friend alone.

Later that afternoon, Killian stepped into his grandmother’s chamber. It was the one meeting Thomas didn’t have the power to cancel. The queen was sitting up in her opulent bed, the delicate crown glittering in the light of the fire and candles. Her skin appeared pale, eyes sunken with dark smudges beneath them. Gray streaks marked her dark hair. She was thin, had the appearance of one whose time had long since passed, but her eyes retained their fierce intelligence. Killian realized the illness had taken its toll on her as their eyes met across the room. The irony was cruel because the illness was destroying her body though her mind was intact.

“Killian.” She grinned and beckoned her grandson to her side. The smile was a mask. Her cold tone gave up the game. Something had changed since he’d gone to the lake and had been rescued by a dragon. His hand slipped into his pocket and touched the scale he’d found on the ground near the location where he’d awakened. Touching the rough surface soothed and strengthened him.

“Grandmother.”

“Preparations for your wedding must begin in short order.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware you’d agreed to one of the contracts,” Killian whispered, feeling a knot of dread form in his gut.

“You will marry Katia Dennsmore.”

His breath left his body in an instant. “Grandmother. Please, I beg you to reconsider.”

“You cannot continue to delude yourself, and you must accept it,
that girl
will not return.”

“She. Has. A. Name.”

“I
know
she has a name. I am
aware
of what her name is. You
must
come to terms with the fact that
she is gone
. You
must
move on.”

Killian closed his eyes and wrapped his fingers around the ring hanging from the chain on his neck. “I understand your point. I am ready to accept one of the marriage contracts.” He studied his grandmother’s expression. “Please, as your grandson, I beg you, anyone but Katia Dennsmore. For any of the other offers, I will do my duty, but please, not
her
.”

Anastasia sighed and shook her head. “I am sorry, but all of the other offers have been withdrawn.”

“What?” Killian felt as though someone punched him in the gut. Air escaped his lungs in a rush, and he stumbled back a few steps before catching himself.

“A short time after your Serena disappeared.” She shook her head. “No explanations were given, and I know for a fact, several of the young ladies are still eligible. Though some have made other suitable matches.”

“Do not force me to do this.”

“There are no other options. I made your Serena a noble. I waited for her to put forth an offer of marriage. I never received one. I am sorry, Killian, but you must marry. Katia Dennsmore is your only option.”

“When?”

“Three months should be sufficient.”

He was in a daze. When she spoke, it sounded as though Anastasia was far away, not in the same room. “Is that all, Grandmother?”

“Yes.”

Killian stood and bowed. “By your leave, Grandmother.”

“The contract is on my desk. It requires your signature and seal.”

He walked over to her desk and without reading, signed the bottom and dropped the quill. The scribe stepped forward and, as the prince watched, prepared the wax for his official seal. To his ears, each drip of the dark blue liquid sounded like the strike of a blacksmith’s hammer on steel. Satisfied with the size and shape of the disc, the scribe stepped back, bowing and mumbling something Killian didn’t care about.

He slipped the signet ring off his finger, examined the etched rampant lion for a moment. As soon as he did this, it was final. He was marrying Katia. The last spark of hope he’d clung to was crushed under the weight of duty, its light dying. “Forgive me,” he whispered so low he knew he wouldn’t be heard and pressed his ring into the wax, waiting for a few seconds before lifting it and sliding it back on his finger. The personal secretary hustled forward and snatched the contract before Killian had the chance to wad it up and throw it into the nearby fire.

Killian turned, forcing himself to walk out of the room, ignoring the hot tears sliding down his face, determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing him run. In the distance, his grandmother called out to him. Killian didn’t answer. Serena’s ring burned against his skin, a heavy weight around his neck.

Once away from the queen’s apartments, he ran, unconcerned about who saw, or tried to stop him. He didn’t care what anyone thought. When Killian reached the royal gardens, he slammed the gate closed, clutched the wrought iron bars and screamed until no breath remained in his lungs, his throat raw. Choking on gasps of air, he turned and started walking, his feet following well-known paths. Ghosts of the past drifted up beside him until their whispers drowned out the mundane sounds of the garden.

He wandered, content to let the past wash over him like a soothing rain. In time, he made his way into the heart of the garden and sat on the bench where he’d gotten up the courage to steal a kiss for the first time. He closed his eyes and saw it as if no time had passed.

Killian leaned forward, his eyes on Serena’s slightly parted lips. The silence between them was charged with energy he couldn’t name. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Killian tilted his head to the left, ducking just a little, closing the short distance between them. His lips touched hers, and warmth washed through his whole body. It had been as though he found the place where he belonged. He wanted more, so he feathered his lips against hers again, in a silent request. She pulled away, but he didn’t move, drinking in the sight of her from the flush in her cheeks to the way her freckles stood out. Serena’s eyelids fluttered for a few seconds and then went wide. A finger raised to her lips and she stood, stepping a few paces away from him.

“I’m sorry.” Killian reached out and tried to catch her hand, but missed. His heart stopped in his chest, and he wanted to take the moment back… to return to the way things had been. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat, and he couldn’t make his legs obey the command to rise and stop her.

“I… I can’t, Killian. I’m sorry.” She turned and ran from him.

Other memories flashed in his mind, cherished, stolen moments he had to lock away. Taking both of the rings from the chain, Killian clutched them in his hand. “Gods, Serena. I’m sorry.” He stared across the cobblestone path at the red rose bush, focusing on one large, perfect flower. “I’m sorry. You never knew, but I had planned to ask you to be my wife on my naming day. I should have done so as soon as my grandmother raised you to the nobility. Maybe then you would still be here with me.” He stood and walked across the path to kneel in front of the bush.

The prince plucked a rose and tore off two petals before setting them on the ground. Laying the rings on top of the single petals, he began digging. Her voice whispered in his mind, words of friendship, commiseration, compassion, and love. As his fingers ripped into the earth, he built walls around his memories. When the hole was deep enough, he pulled the remaining petals from the rose and lined the bottom of it with most of them. “Goodbye, my love. You have my heart forever.” After pressing his lips to the rings, he placed them in the earth. Tears blurred his vision as he used the last of the petals to cover the treasures of his past before filling in the hole. Killian sat back staring at the bare ground. The gardeners would never know about the small fortune in gold and gems buried beneath the small patch of soil. He started to stand, but something tugging at the back of his mind stopped him.

Sinking to the ground, the knees of his breeches soaked up moisture. His hand seemed to move of its own accord, and he reached out to pluck the perfect red bloom. He brought the rose to his lips and whispered, “I miss you.” When the petals brushed against his lips, soft as her skin, he said, “I will love you, always.” He leaned forward and pressed the blossom into the soil over the place where he’d buried the rings.