Chapter 48
RAINE
Queen. Queen.
A laugh bubbles up inside me until I have to let it out. I can’t be queen. That settles it; I’m really not their mate. There’s no way. A part of me thought maybe—there’s this strange pull to each of them—but queen? Nope.
“Raine,” Roark says, his deep tone filling the car.
“Roark,” I say back, mustering as much courage as I can.
And it takes a lot when his blue eyes flash to mine. His wavy hair is a mess around his face. The term ruggedly handsome must have been coined after someone saw a picture of Roark.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry for laughing.
But you can’t be serious. Your mate will rule your clan?
Then there’s no way I can be your mate. You should drive me directly to the airport.
” My stomach twists. I don’t want to leave, and it’s not just because of the art.
Or the adventure I just had with Wren. Sure, that’s part of it.
Being here, no doubt, is the best opportunity I’ve ever had.
The real reason, though . . . I’m becoming attached to all three of them. But they don’t belong to me.
I glance at him. There’s no scenario where I’m not coming out of this heartbroken. Going to the airport with Wren tomorrow might be the best thing I can do.
The car rolls to a stop outside the side door. I didn’t even notice coming up the long driveway.
“I’m not taking you to the airport, Raine.
I don’t know why you don’t think you could be a queen.
You didn’t back down from properly caring for our collection, you didn’t flinch when the Firested dragons shifted, and you went straight to the pub owner to get her from the shed.
Thinking of others first? That’s queen material. ”
“Taking care of paintings is what I’ve been training to do.”
“And why would you think we wouldn’t train our mate to be queen?”
“I . . . well, some people aren’t born to be queens and kings.”
“You aren’t ‘some people.’ When my lightning hit and I realized I was in a thunder with the prince of Crest Wing, I had doubts myself.”
“You? You had doubts?” I shake my head. “There’s no way. You’re so in command.”
“Of course I had doubts. I wasn’t raised in a castle.
My parents and brother were all military.
Born to fight, not rule.” He squeezes both eyes shut at the same time and twists in his seat.
“I was sure that I wasn’t fit to live in a castle.
My dragon even seemed upset with it. Missing the barracks I’d always lived in. ”
“You lived in barracks as a child?”
“Dragonet, and yes. My mother and fathers were all generals. They wanted to be close to their troops.”
I want to ask him about his family, but he does that wince thing again when he mentions them, and it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk more about them.
“But Evander made me realize that we were both brought by fate to be in a thunder with the queen’s son, and if that’s what fate wants, it might be right.”
I smirk. “Might?”
“Yes, might. There are times the fates don’t get things right.”
“And what if—”
“I don’t think this is one of those times.” He gets out of the car before I can rephrase my question.
My car door opens, and he offers me a hand and puts out his other hand for the things I’m carrying.
I hand him the chocolates but clutch my purse to my chest. I take my time getting into Cloud Rift.
Roark doesn’t charge ahead like Jeff used to do.
No, he slows his gait and walks with me.
His hand settles lightly on the base of my spine.
Inside, it’s cooler but smells of bread. I fill my lungs. I’m not sure if I’m still a little tipsy, but definitely hungry. “What’s that amazing smell?”
“The kitchen must have started the preparations for the ceremony.”
My eyes jerk up to his. If the word ceremony didn’t make me apprehensive before . . . “A ceremony with food? That sounds like a wedding.”
“No. Not a wedding. It’s . . . Let’s go sit in the den.”
The corridor to the kitchen tugs at me, and I cock my head toward it.
Roark laughs. “You’re hungry? I am too. I’m sure Leopold will have something fixed for us. Come.”
My fingers completely disappear into his massive hand.
He squeezes it and leads me down the hallway to their den.
The three of them are so different, but this room suits them all.
Leather furniture, dark walls, stone fireplace, and more of the tapestry curtains.
They’re shut this time, unlike when I was in here before.
I’m drawn toward them. I lean in, not wanting to touch them.
Roark’s at the bar, pouring a drink, while I’m entranced by the picture woven into the first dark red and green tapestry curtain.
A rural scene, rugged mountains like the ones around Cloud Rift.
There’s even a castle at the bottom of the picture, but the focus is a rocky outcrop in the middle of the curtain.
There are three windows in the room. The curtain over the next one isn’t the same; it doesn’t have the same focus. Instead of a rocky outcrop, the side of the mountain is covered in pine trees.
I’m studying the one next to it when Roark hands me a glass. “Water. Drink.”
“Thank you.” I’m taking a sip when Roark grabs the side of the panel and holds it out straight for me to see the whole thing. He doesn’t say anything. This panel of the castle on the side of the mountain isn’t as large. But there are dragons in the sky. “What does it mean?”
Roark drops the panel. “Just nice pictures,” he lies, sinking into the chair to the right of the fireplace. I don’t know why he’s lying but I know he is.
“Oh.” I sip some water and sit on the edge of the sofa. “Is Evander okay?”
Roark laughs. “Oh, he’ll be more than okay. He hasn’t had a good chase in a long time.”
“Chase?”
“Yes, I imagine the Firested dragons and Evander are somewhere over Italy by now.”
“Italy. Shouldn’t you go get him?”
“No.” Roark puts his glass down on the marble-topped sofa table. “I wouldn’t want to spoil all his fun. And we have a very loose treaty. He’ll be fine.”
I take another small sip. “They will really keep it? Even if the Firested clan are enemies of yours?”
“Crest Wing,” he corrects.
“Of Crest Wing . . . Evander will be okay?”
“Yes, Evander will be okay. Tired but okay. We can’t have them hanging around our territory. Just the way that, when I’m in theirs, I expect to be chased out.”
“So there are territories? That makes sense. Like, you have Switzerland.”
Roark shakes his head. “Yes, but our boundaries aren’t defined by human countries.”
I’m still watching the swinging curtain behind him when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Roark’s eyebrows shoot up. “Aren’t you going to get that?”
I pull it out. When I see it’s not Wren, I toss it on the sofa beside me. She’s right. I’ve been living my life too much by what others need of me and less of what I need for myself. Roark smiles at me parting from my phone.
There’s a knock on the door, and Leo enters with a tray full of grilled cheese sandwiches. The smell knocks me back into the sofa before I bound to my feet.
“Grilled cheese!” Roark takes a golden crispy sandwich.
“They’re my favorite.” I clasp my hand over my heart.
Leo’s unloading plates and napkins.
My eyes go wide. “Is that what I think it is?”
“A vanilla malted milk? I believe you would call it a milkshake?” Leo answers.
“I would call it a masterpiece! Thank you. How did you know this is the perfect snack after a night out?”
“I aim for perfection, Miss Fischer.”
“Well, you’ve got it,” I say, shoving the sandwich into my mouth in a not-so-ladylike way. I moan. It’s better than it looks. Multiple cheeses ooze from the middle. And the milkshake, which I pride myself on being an expert on, is the perfect thickness. Leo smiles, inclines his head, and leaves.
“How do you do that?” Roark asks.
“Do what?” I say, but it’s not super clear because my mouth is full.
“Make us all smile?”