Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SERAFINA
With Alaric recovered, I offered to surrender his former bedroom.
He refused, insisting I remain in his bed.
The phrasing struck a dissonant chord, one I forced myself to dismiss.
After all, he’d only spoken a telepathic form of Draconian for years.
Surely it was a slip. And yet, the way his eyes had lingered on me left a heaviness in my stomach I couldn’t quite shake.
Once I was certain he was well, free from the lingering grip of his curse, I retreated to my quarters.
From the shadows, I watched him and Thorne roam the devastated halls of Pyrrhus.
Alaric moved through the ruins of his past, awash in equal parts of nostalgia and sorrow.
His gaze drank in every detail as he revisited his home with the eyes of a man.
I could only imagine the strangeness of it all—walking the world once more in a mortal body, after a lifetime spent as a beast.
Meanwhile, I was left with solitude, save for brief visits to Speck. The silence was unnatural—no Penelope barking orders, no endless chores to drown in. It unsettled me, as if the stillness itself were holding its breath, waiting for catastrophe to strike.
A sharp knock rattled the door. Startled, I set aside the book of fairy tales with its beautiful pictures, moving to answer. After spending the day alone, I was happy to find Myrna’s scowling green face on the other side. In her arms was a cascade of rich emerald fabric.
“Your king has requested your presence at dinner this evening.”
“My king, huh?” I eyed the clothing she held. “Am I to assume it’s a formal occasion?”
“It’s a celebration,” she informed me with a mocking curl of her lip.
“That is what your kind does after all. Dressing in your ridiculous garments, carrying on, overindulging every time a shooting star enters our realm. My girls worked all day to prepare the king’s favorites. So you better get moving.”
“I suppose breaking a thousand-year curse is reason to celebrate.” The three of us had certainly earned a reward. I stepped aside, and she hustled into the room, draping the gown over the bed along with a velvet box.
“What is this?” I flipped open the lid and froze. “Oh… My.” Nestled inside was a golden necklace with an ornate dragon at the center. Emeralds instead of scales decorated the creature’s body.
“King Alaric asked that you wear it tonight.”
“This must be some party,” I muttered, though the words caught in my throat. The piece was exquisite, but heavy in a way that made it rather uncomfortable.
Once Myrna helped me dress, she wrestled my unruly curls, pinning them away from my face, leaving the rest to cascade down my spine.
When she finished, I faced the mirror. Unlike the horrendous gown Penelope once stuffed me into, this garment was far more refined, likely from one of the chests in the family hoard.
Gold and jewels encrusted the bodice, the upper swells of my breasts on display.
Dainty laces crisscrossed the back, leaving much of my skin exposed.
The long skirt fit snugly over my round hips before turning flowy as it swept to my ankles.
When I walked, a slit opened over my thigh, revealing a bit of leg.
For once, I truly resembled a princess. I couldn’t help but wonder what Thorne would think when he saw me. An image of him trailing his hand along my exposed thigh, his powerful body pressing me up against a wall, came to mind. Heat pooled at my center. For once, I looked forward to his reaction.
“Thank you, Myrna.” I bent low and threw my arms around the stout woman.
She stiffened, her gruff demeanor cracking for a moment. “You’re welcome, child. Now off you go. Don’t want to keep the king waiting.”
“The king. Right.” I’d almost forgotten about him; I was so eager to see Thorne’s reaction.
Instead of the hearth room, Myrna led me to a part of the castle I hadn’t explored. With a soft murmur of encouragement, she excused herself, leaving me to enter alone.
Warm candlelight flickered across every surface, casting golden hues on walls that had been scrubbed clean of centuries of dust. Above me, exquisite chandeliers glittered, crafted from delicate solar crystals that scattered the light like falling stars.
Someone had clearly gone to great lengths to make the space presentable.
Only a few stubborn cobwebs clung to the high corners, and—thankfully—there wasn’t a skeleton in sight.
It was…beautiful.
Romantic, even though it was an experience I’d never had myself.
My throat tightened. I’d never been the guest at a party—never the one welcomed. I was used to blending into the background, a silent servant ordered to pour drinks and clear plates while others laughed, danced, lived.
To be at the center of such an effort was surreal. Like I was once again dressed in Penelope’s ruffled dress, pretending to be someone else, wearing a role that didn’t quite fit.
In the middle of the room, a long table stretched wide enough to seat a dozen or more, though only a small section was prepared. Crystal goblets sparkled in the candlelight. Gilded tableware captured the flicker of flames, reflecting it in warm glints of gold.
And at the head of it all stood Alaric Blackwing, King of Pyrrhus, one of the last of his kind.
He rose the moment I entered, striding toward me with the easy confidence of a man born to command.
“You look incredible,” he murmured, reaching for me. I stiffened, bracing for another uninvited kiss, but he merely brushed his lips against my cheek.
“Thank you.” The way his hooded gaze swept over me pushed warmth into my cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
It was disorienting seeing him like this. Despite everything we’d shared together, this man was a stranger. I took a moment to take him in.
Unlike Thorne’s dark mane, Alaric’s was a deep golden color, the angles of his face seeming harsher than his brother’s.
Over a silken shirt, he wore a finely cut suit jacket, the lapels richly embroidered with green thread, onyx gems sewn along the edges.
Black pants hugged his muscular legs, his boots polished to a gleam.
And those green eyes, they were still Alaric’s, yet there was little about him that felt familiar and safe.
“Come. I’m starving,” he said, offering his arm. With a wary breath, I accepted, allowing him to escort me to the head of the table. He pulled out my chair with a courtly flourish, and I sat stiffly, unaccustomed to anyone treating me like I mattered.
His eyes slid over me again, warm, possessive, lingering far too long at the neckline of my dress.
He leaned in, his breath skimming my ear. “I enjoy seeing you in my gold.”
A shiver crawled down my spine, not the good kind, as his finger traced a slow line along my collarbone.
I fought the urge to shove his hand away, forcing a polite smile instead.
My palm rose to the emerald-encrusted dragon pendant resting at the hollow of my throat, covering my cleavage under the guise of toying with the jewelry.
“Thank you for letting me wear it,” I said. “It really is lovely.”
And heavy. Now that I’d worn it for a while, the weight of it was cold, unyielding, and impossible to ignore. Just like the king.
Gold-trimmed platters loaded with breads, meats, and root vegetables filled the table. I noted that only two places were set.
I bit my lip, glancing at the empty chair on Alaric’s left. “Is Thorne not joining us? I can’t imagine he’d want to miss any celebration.”
“He departed a short time ago to meet with the rulers of a neighboring village to warn them about The Dark One. I tried to convince him to stay until dinner, but he was eager to be on his way.”
I rubbed the center of my chest, sensing the truth. Where Thorne’s flame rested beneath my sternum was a hollow, vacant sensation. I must have been so wrapped up with Myrna, getting dressed, that I hadn’t immediately noticed his absence.
Some of my excitement for the evening washed away with the realization. I struggled to keep my smile in place. “The sooner the other kingdoms are aware of the danger, the better, I suppose.” Still, he could have taken a moment to tell me he was leaving.
“It’s only the two of us tonight.” Alaric claimed my hand and kissed my fingertips. The devilish spark in his eyes reminded me of Thorne. Though on Alaric, it made my pulse flutter in a far different way.
It was a strange situation, to be sure. I’d grown comfortable around Alaric the dragon—his massive form, his primal mannerisms, his beastly presence.
But now, remembering that beast and this man were one and the same was difficult.
The familiarity we’d shared didn’t quite translate to the golden-haired king who watched me with such human intensity.
“How are you feeling?” I asked while he sliced a knife into the breast of a pheasant. Myrna and her crew had really pulled out all the stops tonight. There wasn’t a mystery sausage in sight.
“Like a new man, thanks to you.” He piled my plate with the neatly carved meat.
I forced a thin laugh at his choice of words, the feel of that suffocating darkness prickling my mind. “While I’d love to take all the credit, don’t you think it’s possible something else was at play?”
His emerald gaze narrowed, and he placed the knife beside his plate with a firm clatter. “For instance?
I poked at a potato to cover my unease. “Maybe your curse had simply run its course. Or maybe it was returning to Pyrrhus that changed things.”
His eyes darkened with a mysterious glint, and he teased a finger around the rim of his glass. “Believe me when I say there isn’t a doubt in my mind. It was you who made this day possible.”
The words sat heavy in the air.