38. Forbidden Honor Chapter One
Honor
In my world, dragon shifters rule. Dragon shifters are always Royals. They’re always male. And they’re always assholes.
I have to obey if I want to survive.
But I don’t have to like it, and I don’t have to like them.
It was lunch time, and I was thinking about just how much I disdained the Royals as I watched them from the balcony of Prince Jaik’s room. I’d been cleaning his room when the noon bell tolled, and I hadn’t hesitated to dump his dirty laundry in a pile by the door and head outside.
Red strands lashed my face until I raked them back into a ponytail, tying them with a leather thong from around my wrist. I needed that breeze after being up-close-and personal with the prince’s laundry.
Prince Jaik was sword-fighting with one of the young dukes, Arren. Arren moved impossibly fast for a man so tall and muscled, his dark hair pulled taut from his chiseled features. Jaik’s gorgeous cheekbones, wavy dark hair and tall posture in his dark uniform made him look impeccable.
But I knew better. The man’s armpits stunk like any other’s when he was done with a day of training.
That was what he—and the other dragon royals—were up to at the moment. The rest of the shifters at the academy had already melted away for lunch, but the five of them continued to banter and fight. Their swords rang against each other’s, their muscles rippling and flexing under tanned skin. They seemed to coordinate without ever saying a word, two of them attacking the other three, moving in fluid tandem.
They should stay shirtless like that forever.
And not just because it was easier on the laundry.
“Honor.” My friend, Calla, leaned across the opposite balcony, waving to catch my attention. “How did I know you’d be watching them?”
“I wish we could train too,” I said, before she could accuse me of having too much fun watching them.
I could enjoy the sight of the pretty men even if I didn’t have any respect for them. Not that they needed my respect; they had the adoration of an entire nation, because they stood between us and the Scourge.
“I know, I know. Come over here, I’ve got cake.”
I threw my sandwich back into my bag and tossed it over my shoulder, just as Calla hurriedly said, “Use the door , Honor. The hallway is your friend.”
I grinned back at her as I backed up and ran toward the balcony ledge. Calla backed up, shaking her head, until her back pressed the stone exterior of the building.
I jumped, got my balance on the edge of the railing, and leapt easily from one side to the other. In a second, I was beside Calla.
She sighed. “You scare me.”
“You’re still afraid of heights.”
She leaned over the railing, taking in the training yard far, far below. She was silhouetted against the shimmering lake and the blue outline of the mountains in the distance. “You don’t have to be afraid of heights to know that jumping balconies is a bad idea if you want to live until our first Shifting Moon.”
She was excited for our first shifting. I imagined that would be nice.
“Mm,” I said. “Maybe I don’t want to live long enough to find out my soul-creature is a field mouse.”
“What’s wrong with being a field mouse?” She raised both eyebrows at me, reminding me—too late—that Calla was from a proud family of chipmunks. Perhaps field mice and chipmunks were cousins in her eyes.
“Nothing,” I said, too late to be convincing.
“You want to be something fierce.” She put her hands up beside her face and imitated claws. It was adorable. It was charming. It was not remotely fierce.
“Hey, when you’re an orphan, the first Shifting Moon is an exciting gamble.” Although our soul-creatures were supposed to be manifestations of who we truly were, most times, they ran in families. Only males shifted into dragons, the highest of creatures, but their royal sisters tended to shift into lions or wolves.
And servants like Calla and me tended to be smaller, meeker, and far more edible.
“It’s an exciting gamble for everyone,” Calla reminded me. “Greta Sandstone discovered her real father was a hawk.”
I groaned. “What a terrible day.”
Greta had squawked and run away from the temple as if her true soul creature were an angry chicken.
One of the Royals whirled, throwing his sword—and a long, horned head and a powerful tail whipped out of his body as he grew long and scaled. The next second, his transformation was complete, and he was an enormous dragon. He let out a long, blast of fire at the other Royals, who threw up magical shields to block the attack and jumped over his wicked tail.
Their power was incredible, I had to admit. The Scourge had recently surged right outside the gates of the city. The Royals had stopped them as the rest of the city cowered in their houses.
Calla propped her chin on her hand, forgetting to eat as she gazed at the royals. “You know, Lara got her hands on this amazing story being passed around about the dragon royals.”
“A true story?”
“No, it’s a fantasy. A romance. One of Lara’s cousins wrote it.”
I groaned. “Look at those men down there. They might be the heroes of the kingdom, but they are wildly arrogant. They’re probably terrible in bed.”
Calla looked considering. “They’re really good with those swords.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen victim to their fan club, too.” I had regrets about being so condescending about the Royals’ fanfiction now, because part of me was a little curious. Did they always have tails? Some Fae did, although our race of shifters looked more mortal than the Fae in the storybooks I’d read.
Ever since the Scourge began, our island had been sealed away from the rest of the Fae world. Storybooks were the only glimpse I’d had of the bigger world beyond.
“Come on,” Calla swept her arm toward the door. “We should get out of here. We’re not supposed to linger in their rooms once we’re done.”
The military students training here were apparently too precious to wash their own laundry or scrub the hallway floors. Worst of all, though, were the Royals, who were too important to even clean their own rooms.
“But I like the view,” I pouted, then added, “of the mountains.”
I glanced down at the empty yard only to realize the Royals had left the yard as we were chatting, and sudden disappointment dropped like a stone.
“Mm-hmm.” Calla gave me a knowing smile.
Maybe every girl in Rylow secretly dreamed of winning the heart of a dragon prince.
Maybe that was even true for me, even if I also fantasized about kicking their asses.
They were a pretty fine-looking group of men.
A voice in the hall called for Calla, summoning her out of the room, and Calla scrambled toward it. I grabbed half her handful of cake before she could go.
“You’re going to get in trouble,” she hissed at me.
“Is that a promise? Because I’m so very bored,” I answered, even though the truth was, I needed the money. Which meant I needed the job.
But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t defy the head housekeeper behind her back. I was an uppity orphan —as she’d informed me. Now I had a reputation to live up to.
“I’m going to work right through my lunch break because I’m such a diligent employee,” I added, and even though Calla’s back was to me as she bustled through the room toward the door, I could feel the eye-rolling vibe.
Carrying my cake in one hand, I leapt onto the balcony, then across. I strolled into the prince’s room, scattering crumbs as I ate my cake. I still had to mop the floors anyway.
Then the connecting door to the bath swung open.
Prince Jaik stepped out, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Beads of water trickled from his spreading shoulders down the most beautiful set of abs I’d ever seen.
He stopped dead, staring at me, now wearing both a towel and a frown.
“Hi, just finishing up tidying your room,” I said, flinging my arm to encompass the room—and flinging crumbs along with it.
A bit of frosting landed on the prince’s cheek. Pink frosting. It complemented his dark hair and furious amber eyes quite nicely.
“What are you doing in here?” he demanded. “Haven’t I requested my privacy?”
I was momentarily flummoxed. “Did you think the towels picked themselves up by magic? That the dirty clothes turned sentient at night and walked themselves to and from the laundry?”
“Oh, you’re a smartass, aren’t you?” He leaned in the doorway. “I’m sure the Head Housekeeper would love that.”
“And I’m sure no one loves a tattle tale.” I tapped my cheekbone with two fingers. “You’ve got a little something right there.”
He swiped and his fingers came away covered in pink frosting. “You’re not a very good housekeeper, are you?”
Funny, I’d heard some variation on that—usually with a lot more swearing—several times from the Head Housekeeper since taking this job. “Maybe I’m meant for something more.”
“Mm. What’s your name?”
Giving him my name seemed like a very bad idea. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class? I can take care of the floors while you’re off. It’s no trouble.”
His eyes blazed. “I don’t need you to tell me where I’m supposed to be.”
Oh god. Even those abs wouldn’t make up for his anger problems. Why are the beautiful men so often such bitches?
The bit of cake still in my hand was becoming a sticky distraction, and I didn’t know how else to get rid of it, so I stuck it in my mouth. I backed away from him, still chewing.
“What is wrong with you?” he demanded.
I had an awesome snarky response for that, but the words came out a bit jumbled and with a spray of crumbs.
“I’m sorry, what did you try to say to me?” He took a step forward to match each step I took backward, as if we were dancing.
I’ve never liked dancing.
I swallowed just as I stepped out onto the balcony. “Honestly, you’d think with all that power you wield, all the reverence you get from the common people, you wouldn’t be so touchy. How do you get your feelings hurt so easily?”
He took the next step forward a bit faster, and I turned and leapt onto the railing, then over to the next balcony.
We rotated who cleaned the princes’ rooms. I wouldn’t come up in the rotation for a week or two, and hopefully I’d embarrassed him enough that he wouldn’t tattle to the Head.
But probably, I was going to end up fired in the next hour.
I stopped and turned toward him. His eyes still blazed with anger, but he leaned against the railing opposite me.
“You’re awfully sure-footed for a servant.”
“And you’re awfully tender-feeling for a prince,” I shot back.
I stuck my tongue out at him and sauntered into his friend’s room.
The second I was out of his sight, I ran through the room and careened out into the hallway.
But the prince didn’t chase me.