Chapter 2
Soren
I could have lost her .
The thought plagues my mind with all the persistence of a shadow as I stride down the echoing corridor.
Again and again, I see her glide to the open door leading to the gardens. I taste unknown satisfaction as she glances back at me. I start to follow her, but I tell myself she’s safe. I tell myself she’s still within my grasp.
It’s a mistake I won’t make again.
A sharp turn brings me to my chambers, and I move with steady determination to the door between our bedchambers to press my ear there just as I have every hour since I carried her within. Tilly told me she would send for me, but I’ve come here anyway.
There’s a beat of silence, then a voice, and now a second one—soft and surprised—answers.
She’s awake.
I don’t think to knock. I only think to restrain my first form and push the door open.
She’s propped up in bed, and when I meet her eyes, it’s not with any of the warmth I showed her last night. I know what I’m here to tell her, and only cold indifference will do. She’s bewildered; I can see that. It might affect me more if I hadn’t prepared myself for this.
It’s a good thing I did because the sight of her darkened bruises sends rage blazing through my lungs.
The one who did this will die, my first form snarls. I’ll crush his bones between my jaws. I’ll tear his limbs from his—
I silence the beast within and fold my hands behind my back. “I’m glad to see you awake, Princess Serah.”
A range of emotions passes over her face—confusion, apprehension, and though she tries to hide it, a trace of fear.
Good.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
My sister is unperturbed by both my presence and my demeanor. Instead of attending to the king in her presence, she picks absently at a loose thread on the blanket in front of her.
I see I have more than one error in need of correction.
“Lady Tilanthia,” I drawl, “I thought you were going to send for me when the princess awoke.”
“Oh, I was just about to,” Tilly says, still focused on her string. “We were talking.”
“Is that so?”
Princess Serah’s eyes dart to my oblivious sister and back to me. “We were speaking of…womanly things, Your Majesty.”
“I see.”
A long silence follows, and I let its stifling effects build to the point of discomfort before continuing.
“How are you feeling, Princess?”
“I’m well, thank you.”
Her pain must be great, but she answers with all the poise and composure of a queen. Insufferable as her mother may be, no one can deny that she trained her daughter well. If only Tilly had possessed such an influence. Instead, she was given a brother who hadn’t known what to do with her.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say. “The palace physician says your injuries should heal without issue.”
He’ll suffer if not. He’ll beg for mercy if she—
“Was he here recently?” she asks.
“Yes.”
A trace of irritation crosses her face at my clipped tone. “Have you spoken to Lord Lyken yet?”
Lord Lyken? A growl gathers at the back of my throat. “No.”
“I hoped to thank him later today, once I felt well enough to be up and about, of cour—”
“I thought I made myself clear.”
The princess’s lashes flutter with surprise. It’s like watching the wings of a trapped butterfly. “Pardon?”
“You are not to leave this room without me.”
She draws back. Her eyes shift to my sister, who’s actually paying attention now, before returning to me. “I thought we were past this.”
“Then you were mistaken.”
“We both agreed that we behaved childishly before. You said—”
“That was before an attempt was made on your life.”
Those exquisite lips of hers press together, but they stay that way only a second before demanding, “So I’m to be punished for that?”
“No, you’re to be protected.”
“Against my will?”
“If need be.”
“And if I try to leave?”
“The guards will carry you back.”
Finally, I’ve struck the bedrock within her, and all softness vanishes from her face.
“We are not yet wed,” she says, her voice resonating throughout the room. “I am not subject to your rule.”
I keep my face carefully neutral as I regard her. Very soon, she will sit on my throne, and she will make a fearsome queen. Yes, a fearsome and beloved queen indeed.
If you can keep her, my first form hisses.
I harden myself to what must be done.
“You will do anything I ask,” I say, “if you don’t want Vasna to burn.”
Her shock is immediate. I wanted her to fear, and yet watching it seep over her fine features drives a stake through my lungs. I ignore this and address my sister. “You are to remain with Princess Serah for the time being.”
“All right,” she says brightly.
My princess still sits in stunned silence. I turn from her and start for the door.
“Soren, wait!”
My step hitches, but I keep walking, my ears aching with the sound of my name from her lips.
I let my guard down, and she paid the price.
If I am to keep her, this is how it must be.
***
When I arrive in the eastern gardens, my chief gardener and majordomo are already there overseeing the cleanup.
A troop of servants files in and out of the gouges left by my claws to heft rubble over the sides.
Another group seems to be sorting through mounds of dirt for any salvageable plants from what was Tirenth’s most illustrious garden.
It couldn’t be helped.
I saw her in the second after she fell, her body limp and her gleaming hair splayed out around her.
Fear and I have been strangers since I was a fledgling, but I knew it again then, knew its cold, merciless grip.
That is, until I saw that wyrm Lyken, his coat split at the back, his wing already withdrawn, and a blood-tinged arrow lying in the dirt at his feet. The story told itself.
What it didn’t tell was who was responsible, and when a flicker of movement on an upper balcony revealed the answer, my first form rose up.
For once, I let the beast loose.
I shield my eyes from the rising sun and gaze up at what’s left of the exterior wall. I tore out the rooms beyond, and still the archer escaped. My lips peel back from my teeth at the thought.
Nearly as repulsive as that is being indebted to Lyken. He’s always grated on me like sand caught in a boot. Am I grateful he shielded her? Yes. Few dragons—very few—could wield their wings as he did without fully giving into their first form.
But it never should have happened. Not only that, but he used such force that he bruised her. Word also has it that the overseer of the western province has an eye on my sister, something I cannot tolerate.
Some of the servants spot me, prompting Oiken and Isaak to glance my way. They both bow, but my chief gardener’s eyes slide to the space behind me before returning to the wreckage. I sense Ty’s presence right after.
“News?” I say as he moves in beside me.
His head tilts in an almost imperceptible nod, and I lead him to a shadowed alcove. Signspeak isn’t so rare that I want this conversation seen.
Now hidden, Ty looses a burst of signs. The poison was Sileshian.
Sileshian? That I hadn’t expected.
You’re sure? I sign back.
Isaak confirmed. The poison was derived from a Sileshian herb. Valsbane, they call it. It would have knocked her out for at least a day.
My chief gardener’s knowledge of herbology, including the poisonous kind, is unmatched. If he says the poison meant for the princess was Sileshian, it was.
The arrow wasn’t meant to kill her; it was meant to incapacitate her. The point was tipped in a powerful sedative because someone didn’t want her dead.
They wanted to take her from me.
Thank Isaak for me, I say. Tell Rally to meet me at the dungeons.
He nods and starts off.
“Ty.”
My guard glances back.
“Do not tell the princess.”
Whatever objection he might have, he keeps to himself. Wise, considering he and Rally dismissed her earlier warning about the archer outside her rooms. Esino was indeed there, but so was the attacker, a trespasser, in my own palace.
I’ll not soon forget that.
Ty leaves, and I return to speak briefly with Oiken and Isaak.
The restoration of the eastern gardens is a distant priority, but it’s important the servants see their king conversing like a man.
They’re tense. On edge. They wonder if their king still holds control.
They worry a challenger will smell weakness and try to seize control.
I’ll soon put those fears to rest.
“Your Majesty!”
My shoulders grow rigid, yet I force myself to turn and face my greeter with an air of pleasure. “Lord Lyken. I was just coming to see you.”
“How fortuitous,” Lyken says, trotting up to beam at me with an ingratiating grin. It’s likely the same smile he flashes my sister to have her pining over him.
I want to tear his face off.
“I owe you my sincerest gratitude,” I say. “All of Tirenth does.”
He falls into a bow. “You’re too kind, Your Majesty. I only did what any of your subjects would for our future queen.”
“What would you have in return for your service?”
He rises, and that smile of his sharpens.
There he is.
“Just knowing the princess is safe is enough,” he says.
“Nonsense.” I tilt my head Oiken’s way. “Please have Lord Lyken escorted to the royal treasury and allow him to choose whatever he desires.” To Lyken I say, “There is no treasure equal to my betrothed, but perhaps something in my treasury will aid in lessening this debt between us.”
Men or not, we are dragons at our core. His eyes shimmer with hunger.
“That’s unnecessary but most generous of you, Your Majesty.”
I offer a nod of assent. “I would accompany you myself, but I have other matters to attend to.”
He bows once more, and with a turn of my heel, I go to leave.
“Is she well?”
I come to a dead stop. Slowly, I glance back over my shoulder. “What?”
“The princess,” Lyken says. He looks genuinely concerned, as if any part of her is his to be concerned about. “Is she well?”
My eye narrows on him. “Indeed.”
Scales brew beneath the surface of my skin.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he says.
There’s nothing more, and I walk on before I rip him to pieces.
Rally is waiting for me when I arrive at the palace keep. He doesn’t ask why I’m growling under my breath, and I don’t offer. We pass the entry guards in silence.
“I was about to come find you before Ty came,” he says as we head for the stairs leading down to the dungeons. “Word has it your first challenger is on his way to The Pit.”
A smile cuts across my face. “Who?”
“Some upstart from the northern province.”
I click my tongue. “I was hoping for better.”
Rally grunts. He’d prefer the quiet my rule has brought. There have been no challengers since I took the throne myself, an occurrence nearly unheard of in a kingdom where kingship is won, not inherited. But word of an unplanned transformation travels fast.
They think I’m slipping. They think a female has weakened my hold. A silent laugh rumbles through my chest.
They have no idea what lengths I’d go to for her.
Or the lengths I’ve already gone.
Nothing could please me more right now than a challenger to sink my teeth into. I’ll stop by the kitchens, then make my way to The Pit. I smile to myself in the torchlight.
Yes, I’ll do that right after I speak with my Sileshian guest.