Chapter 5
GAVIN
The sun hasn’t even come up yet, and I’m already irritated with the day.
I stand at the edge of the cliff, staring into the churning sea below.
The azure color reminds me of the man from the tavern days before.
Kyler’s eyes are deep blue and soulful, if not a little sad.
I hoped to hear from him again by now. He looks so much like the couple from the journal that I suspect him to be the child they wrote about.
But what happened to them? Why did they stop writing?
The palace radiates heat at my back. Overhead, seagulls squawk. The Dragon Guard silently keeps watch high above the palace, as always.
I huff out a breath, flexing my hands. I need to move. Princess Ailey is not what I expected after years of letters between us. I shouldn’t be surprised about any of it. But I won’t be marrying Ailey. No, she’s a pawn to keep His Majesty busy.
Before His Majesty let the realm go to shit, I’d always been ambivalent about the arranged marriage.
I’ve known since I was six that Ailey and I would marry.
I was born for her. For the realm of Avondra to use.
She’s forty, twelve years older than me.
Not that it matters. For dragons, what is age anyway?
Ailey looks like a woman in her twenties.
Her dark brown skin contrasts my suntanned complexion.
She has lovely bright green eyes and luscious black hair she keeps in braids or twists.
I admit Ailey is pretty. Beautiful even.
Queen worthy. But I’m not attracted to her, and looks don’t matter to me, not really.
Even if we had been compatible—which we aren’t—I wouldn’t be marrying her.
Besides, the dragons of Avondra lack horns. They’ve almost bred the dragon right out of themselves over the last few generations, hence the reason they need a true dragon shifter, an eggborn like me.
I sigh into the wind. Even knowing the marriage won’t happen, I’ll never be my own person, not really.
At home, I’m the spare’s spare. Even though my brothers love me dearly in their own ways, I’m still being used for their agendas.
And I let them. Whether Lane or Avondra, I’ll be their weapon.
I bark out a laugh. I’ll always be a weapon for someone. That’s the sole purpose of my birth.
If I think about it, really think about it, the entire idea makes me sick. So I plunged into magic and distanced myself from finding my own mate because it would never happen.
But five years ago, Leander came to me with a proposition.
Work with him to go behind our father’s back and get the realm back to the glory it once was.
It took a lot of effort, but we made progress over the years.
Now, though, the king is erratic and works against our efforts and the good of the people.
He’s damn near close to starting a war with the centaurs of Haliana. I like the centaurs of Haliana.
Until Leander’s plan, I’d gone along with the king’s wishes. I agreed to the arranged marriage. I just had to marry the princess like a good little prince and follow daddy’s orders.
But I can’t let go of Leander’s promise of freedom from the marriage if I go along with his ideas.
I follow every order to the best of my abilities, and now the wedding is near, and Leander hasn’t followed through with his part of the deal.
I’m still solidly stuck. I don’t blame Leander.
His hands are tied in some ways. But in others, he could meddle if he wanted.
I’ll have to take matters into my own hands. All I need is a strategy.
What keeps me from thinking lately is that I can’t get Kyler out of my head.
The moment I saw the young man, I had to talk to him.
Hear his voice. And when I did, I had to stay seated or show the entire tavern how much I enjoyed listening to him.
If Kyler had looked at me properly, I could have fallen into those sad blue eyes.
The only reason I had him present his hands the second time was to touch those long, elegant fingers.
His hands are rough, like I expected of a merchant.
There’s a presence about Kyler. Mysterious.
Interesting. Informed. And skies, that scent!
Tantalizing ocean and spice. I would love nothing more than to sit and have a real conversation.
But Kyler is obviously terrified of me. Probably because I’m royalty and people either want to take advantage of me or want to get away from me. There seems to be no middle ground.
I toy with the sapphire pendant around my neck, a smile creeping onto my face.
One thing I know for sure is Kyler didn’t try to use magic on me.
The pendant makes me immune to magic of persuasion or seduction; it glows and vibrates in the presence of either.
With everyone wanting a piece of me, it gives me peace of mind to have that protection.
I run a hand through my hair. I still haven’t given my report on what I found with the pixies to Leander. Not that I have much to say. I promised myself I’d take the time to speak with him after a quick flight.
I need to get away from Ailey and all the responsibilities of showing her around the palace and getting to know her in person. I discovered quickly we aren’t compatible, and her acknowledging my interest in merfolk in letters was just a courtesy because she doesn’t care.
Ailey is entirely too boring and traditional for me.
Had I studied her letters, I would have realized.
When I tried to show her the gardens—which are spectacular and the pride of Lane—she wanted to embroider.
Or wanted to read poetry. Poetry. Of all things!
The worst is that Ailey looks down on royals using magic.
She thinks it’s absurd I enjoy magic to the point I want to be a Grand Mage.
She says I should leave magic to those without real power.
How could we be compatible if the one thing in my life I can say for certain I love is something she can’t respect me for?
Watching the waves crash against the cliffside, I strip off my boots first. Then I shrug off the rest of my clothes. I need the sky. Taking off the pendant and laying it on the ground, I sigh. Damon’s familiar thump of hard boots on pavement breaks through the seagulls’ crying.
“You’re dismissed for the day, Damon. Make good use of it.” I jump from the cliff, not waiting for the reprimand I know will come.
As I fall, I stretch, preparing. Air rushes by, and my lungs scream for a breath, but I won’t take it.
My skin ripples until scales cover me in pearlescent silver and violet.
A sound like chain mail rattles as the scales clamp over my skin to protect me.
My hands transform into claws with long, sharp talons.
I ignore the pain as my body bulks, ripping muscle and bone and skin apart, rebuilding me into my second form, adding more scales to my new size.
A spiked tail extends from my backside. Wings sprout from my back, finally stopping my descent.
I am dragon.
A low growl rumbles in my throat, and I press on toward the horizon, past the islands and to the open sea, needing to spread my wings.