Chapter 1 #3
The itch became a thousand fire ants stinging my skin. I jumped to my feet. “I said I’m not going!”
“I will tie you to the chair myself.” For a second, fire swirled in his eyes. “Don’t test me, lass.”
White-hot fury exploded in my chest. My dragon roared, clawing at my ribs. “You’re not the king!” I shouted.
My mother put a hand over her mouth. Dad’s eyebrow climbed higher, and he almost looked sorry for me as a heavy silence descended.
My heart fluttered. I’d crossed a line, and we all knew it.
The temperature in the room plummeted. The next time I exhaled, my breath formed a cloud in front of my face. Whispers rose, half a dozen voices overlapping. They twisted around me, lifting the fine hairs on my skin. The language was odd and unsettling, the words writhing and crackling.
At last, my father moved, rounding the desk in a whisper of fabric and magic.
My knees loosened, but I forced myself to meet his stare as he stopped in front of me.
Like the rest of our kind, I was tall for a female, but Father was taller, and he loomed over me like the shadows he liked to frequent.
Somehow, I found my voice. “I’m sorry—”
“Who do you think guarded the throne while our king was lost to the fire?” he asked softly.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Father would never hurt me.
The man who’d carried me on his shoulders through zoos and amusement parks and the halls of House Balfour would never, ever raise a hand to me.
I knew that with absolute certainty. But his anger was cold and tightly coiled. Inky black and exquisitely controlled.
I’d inherited his hair—and nothing else. He hid his disappointment well, but it peeked out every now and then. Sometimes, Niall Balfour didn’t quite manage to hide.
Still, I couldn’t sit through another dinner.
I couldn’t dance afterward, my dragon thrashing under my skin as I let myself get passed from one hungry-eyed male to the next.
I couldn’t walk a gauntlet of dragon shifters who’d spent a thousand years watching their species dwindle only to see it saved—and then crushed again when I was the only female born in the two decades since the Curse was broken.
They’d believed we were saved. And now, the future dangled by a thread. Everyone waited for me to find my mates. Everyone watched, all eyes on me with my broken, unstable dragon.
Shame tightened my throat as I lifted my chin. “I know you’re powerful, Father. You taught me how to lead. But you also taught me that only the weak resort to bullying.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Pain. Then it was gone, replaced by onyx and anger. But I’d seen the flash of raw emotion. I’d hurt him. Maybe it was better than disappointing him.
Mum appeared at my side, her fingers gentle as she took my arm. “Come with me, sweetheart.”
Dad stood. “Isolde—”
“We’ll just be a minute,” she said, guiding me to the door. “I want to speak to my daughter, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
My fathers were silent as she led me out the door and into a smaller room down the hall. Tapestries and books lined the walls. A large window let the day’s fading light splash over the thick, rose-patterned carpet.
Mum’s lips curved as she cupped my face in her hands. “You are so beautiful,” she murmured. “And so smart. I couldn’t be more proud to call you mine.”
Tears stung my eyes. “Mum…”
“I know this is hard.” She stroked my hair back from my face, a little sigh lifting her chest. “You’ve had unfair expectations piled on you since you were born. They’ve only gotten worse. I know you don’t want to hear it, but your fathers are just trying to protect you.”
A disbelieving snort escaped me. “By parading me in front of a bunch of men?”
My mother’s lifted brow was a lot more impressive than my dad’s. “By giving you the chance to find what they found.” She smiled, a hint of melancholy in the expression. “The bond I share with them hasn’t always been easy, but it’s worth everything, Portia. I promise.”
Guilt gripped me. My mother had spent four hundred years as a prisoner, the demon she’d called “father” draining her blood to keep himself immortal. She’d been trapped, her memories stolen.
And I complained about a dinner.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said, pulling me into a hug. “Just…do this for me, all right? Only for tonight. And I’ll speak to your fathers about shelving their matchmaking attempts.”
I pulled back so I could search her face. “You will?”
“Yes.” Her smile turned wry. “And be patient with your father. It’s not easy living with a full-blooded dragon.”
She spoke of Dad. Of the centuries he’d spent lost to fire and madness, his mind a prison of his own making. She and my father had pulled him back and anchored him to the present with their bond.
But she also spoke of me. Because the same fire that burned in my dad’s veins burned in mine—and my brother’s. We were both full-blooded dragons. But Malcolm was as even-keeled as they came. And I was…not.
“Okay,” I said, suppressing a sigh. “I’ll go to the ball. But if anyone tries to hand me a glass slipper, I’ll punch them in the bawbag.”
Mum snorted. “You’ve been spending too much time with Alec Murray.”
“Trust me, that’s the least offensive thing that comes out of his mouth.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of.
” Leaning in, she kissed my forehead. “Thank you for understanding, sweetheart. Now go get ready.” She moved to the door.
Just before she left, she turned. “And Portia? Wear something that makes you feel powerful, not what you think your fathers want to see.”
She slipped out the door.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said, smiling.