by Sofia Stone
Why not? growled his dragon, thumping his tail.
Because we don’t know if he did it, Gabriel replied silently. Concepts like “due process” and “innocent until proven guilty” were foreign to dragons, who preferred to settle matters with one-on-one duels.
Unsurprisingly, Gabriel’s dragon was not satisfied by this abstract explanation.
If we don’t know it’s him, we don’t know if the person who tried to hurt our mate is really being punished. He could be out there living his life happily.
Gabriel’s dragon understood this better, though he was still unhappy. Find out, said his dragon sullenly.
Gabriel very much planned to.
Other matters occupied the council for some time, but finally the King rose to his feet and cleared his throat to address the nobles.
“As you are all aware, my wife Queen Betha and I have no children of our own. This is a matter of great personal grief, of course, but it also impacts the well-being of Zavinia to not have an immediate heir to the throne. For some time, we were hoping . . .”
As the King continued, Gabriel kept his eyes on Henri. Once again, he could discern no surprise. Nor was there any when the King introduced Amelia to the Council as his younger brother’s long-lost daughter raised in America.
“Zavinia deserves a leader who is kind-hearted, generous, and intelligent, and in my estimation, Amelia is all of those things. Naturally, the laws of succession dictate that, should the oldest sibling have no children, the next one’s line shall take the throne. Her documents are all in order, as you can see—she is a Zavinian citizen, of legitimate royal birth, and of course you can tell for yourselves she is a dragon.”
Amelia’s smile became nervous at that pronouncement, but one by one the council members all nodded, recognizing her for one of their own just as he had. But her nervousness was not without cause: she had still not yet managed to shift, a fact that frustrated and dismayed her, and still puzzled him.
As children, shifters transformed all the time, often unconsciously. They had to be taught to control it. He wondered if Amelia had ever done so, even if she didn't remember it, or if having never seen or known another dragon was part of the problem. What was holding her back?
There was some muttering as they leafed through the paperwork they had been provided with—birth and marriage certificates, passport and DNA test—but they were forced to admit that everything looked like it was in order.
“I have to say this is something of a surprise,” Lord Durand said. He was an older, irritable man but not an unreasonable one—Lady Nancy counted him among her allies on the council. Several of the other council members nodded their agreement, though Henri did not. “How do we know she’ll be suitable?”
“What does she know about Zavinia?” added Lord Beaumont, stirring in his chair for the first time. A large man, he often sat as still as a statue, unnoticed until he spoke. “How could someone rule a country effectively if they have never lived here?”
“It’s our right to ask her questions before confirming her,” piped up one of the youngest lords—Leblanc, from the look of his sigil, which was a white dragon.
“Ask away,” Amelia said boldly in response, and the questioning began. Each of the lords took turns asking her what she knew of Zavinia—of its history, its government, its economy, and its people.
For each question, Amelia answered easily and steadily. Pride swelled in Gabriel’s chest at the sight of her poise and confidence. She had worked so hard the past few days, putting in hours of study and late nights, and it was paying off. Even the council members Gabriel had thought would be hostile were grudgingly impressed with her answers.
Contrary to what Gabriel thought we would do, Henri didn’t ask any particularly difficult questions. In fact, they were softballs, and he nodded easily at her answers as if he had no objection to her at all.
Afterward, the vote that installed Amelia as the Crown Princess of Zavinia passed through the Council easily. Even Henri voted for it, which was the most startling of all.
Something about that didn’t sit right with Gabriel. Even if he wasn’t guilty, he should have been something—surprised, upset at the loss of his status as presumptive heir. Instead, he was just blank.
Too carefully blank, Gabriel thought.
With every second that passed, Gabriel became surer that it was Henri who had ordered the hit on Amelia. He might have failed to kill her, but Henri didn’t look defeated or resigned to Gabriel’s eyes. That meant he had something else in store. The only question was what. And when.
* * *
The confirmation ball was held in the royal palace, and Gabriel was there to protect Amelia, as he had been every day since the council meeting. Hundreds of people were in attendance, from the most dignified nobility down to the commonest commoner: it was a time for all the people of Zavinia to come together to celebrate.
Working meant keeping his mind focused on the job. There were so many people milling about, a dozen banquet tables piled high with every traditional Zavinian dish you could think of, a riot of sartorial colors as far as the eye could see, chatter and music and all kinds of distractions . . . and a potential assassin behind every smile. Although Henri had disappeared for the time being, he still had thugs and hitmen to do his bidding. Gabriel kept to the edge of the crowd, scanning it for anyone who seemed suspicious.
Still, it was difficult to keep his focus when he saw Amelia.
The announcer said her name, and every head in the ballroom turned to look at the stairs. A spotlight shone on her—but even if it hadn’t, Gabriel was sure he couldn’t have looked anywhere but at her. The rest of the world faded into the background, and the chatter died to a murmur.
After being announced, Princess Amelia floated down the entranceway stairs on the King’s arm. He heard a gasp as she made her entrance, and his heart almost stopped in his chest. Her hair was piled atop her head, with a few curls hanging loose to frame her face and gleam copper in the light. Her blue silk gown complemented her eyes. She was wearing pearls in her ears and on her neck, and though she looked beautiful in them, his dragon wanted to take off every piece of foreign jewelry and present her with pieces from his own hoard to mark her as his forever. Soon, Gabriel told his dragon, hoping it was true.
As she descended, her bright blue eyes scanned the crowd, and even through the throngs of people she found him almost immediately. A smile rose to her lips, which he returned.
“She’s so beautiful,” murmured a woman nearby to her friend, who nodded in agreement. Everywhere he looked, he saw people staring at their new princess in awe and admiration.
Except one.
Henri was leaning against a far wall, watching Amelia like a hawk. Gabriel resolved not to let him out of his sight.
The crowd parted for the first dance. Her uncle led the traditional first dance with her. Gabriel wanted to, but the King was her family and Gabriel didn’t begrudge that, even though he wished he could be her partner.
Amelia danced with perfect grace, just like they practiced, and a pang shot through Gabriel’s heart.
When the dance ended, everyone applauded. The King bowed, and Amelia curtseyed. Other dancers began to drift onto the floor in pairs.
Edric materialized next to him. “I can tell you want to go over there.”
“Are you psychic now?” Gabriel grumbled.
“No, it’s just written all over your face.”
“It’s just that obvious, is it?”
Edric grinned. “Only to someone who knows you. Go on.” He jerked his chin in Amelia’s direction. “Go have a dance with your mate. I’ll cover you, and keep an eye on our potentially villainous friend holding up the wall over there.”
“Don’t let him out of your sight,” Gabriel warned, and the gave in to the desire to take his mate in his arms.
“Hello, handsome,” Amelia said, her eyes lighting up.
Gabriel couldn’t help the smile that broke out over his face.
“Hello, beautiful.”
Amelia made a doubtful noise in her throat, but she was smiling.
“I mean it,” he added. “And so does everyone else. No one could take their eyes off you just now. Every little girl wants to be you.”
A pink flush rose to her cheeks. “I wish I’d been dancing with you instead,” she confessed.
He held out his hand for her to take. The small orchestra was about to end another song and begin a new one. “You and me both. Let’s rectify that, shall we? May I have this dance?”
“You can have this one, and all the others,” Amelia promised.
Together they fell in with the other dancers. Some might say Gabriel was biased, but he thought Amelia surpassed each and every one of the other women as a partner—graceful, responsive, and elegant from hair to heels. He never wanted to dance with anyone else ever again.
Their bodies moved in perfect time with one another, as if attuned. Being so close to her was intoxicating, yet he couldn’t pull her closer or satisfy his desire to kiss her. Instead he had to satisfy himself with looking, and he looked his fill.
Her pale skin was flushed, and she looked radiant. Her lips were pink, full and kissable, and oh how he wanted to cover them with his own, taste her again.
There was nothing immodest about her dress, which was regal and unrevealing, but it hugged Amelia’s curves, made him want to run his hands over her.
When the dance ended, he dipped her, steadying her with one hand while he touched her cheek with the other. Several onlookers applauded, but even as Gabriel smiled, he could feel the danger his mate was in like a yoke on his neck. He pulled Amelia closer into his side and scanned the crowd.
Henri was glaring at Amelia. It was utterly unlike the bored nonchalance he had projected in the council meeting. There was pure venom in his gaze.
Gabriel stiffened. Something was going to happen. He didn’t know what, but that look spelled nothing good.
But then Henri turned on his heel and stalked away, parting the startled crowd on either side of him. Soon he was swallowed up.
“I’ve got him,” Edric’s voice murmured in his ear. "Take the rest of the night off. But stick close to your girl just in case. I got this. Just keep your lovesick staring well away from me, okay? I can see the hearts coming out of your eyes."
"Is something wrong?" Amelia slipped her hand into his, bringing him back to the present. Concern was written all over her face.
"No, love," he said, squeezing her fingers. "Just thinking about how much I love you and how lucky I am to have you."
Amelia grinned. "Flattery will get you everywhere." Then her face softened. "I love you, too. Now let's get some food."
No expense had been spared. The tables of food were edged with lacy tablecloths and loaded with fine silver dishes piled with every Zavinian delicacy he could think of, and then many more. Tonight was a night for traditional food, and the caterers had outdone themselves.
"Here, have one of these." Gabriel speared an olive on a toothpick and held it up for her, cupping his hand underneath to catch the juices.
She eyed the olive with distrust. "I'm not really an olive person."
"Try it," he encouraged, and her lips enveloped the olive.
Pulling away, she made a surprised sound. "Not bad," she said after swallowing. "Was that . . . oranges?"
"Let me see." He kissed her and tasted the orange and olive on his lips, along with something indefinably Amelia. "Yes, orange zest, I think."
She giggled and tugged him further down the table. Every few feet, someone was interrupting them, stopping Amelia to gush about how beautiful she looked.
We should have her all to ourselves, his dragon complained sulkily.
She belongs to the kingdom, too, and they obviously adore her, Gabriel replied, though he sympathized with his dragon's sentiment and tightened his arm around her waist every time someone else drew near.
It helped that every time someone came up, she introduced him as her mate, for everyone to hear. Hearing her say that—proud and in front of everyone—filled a hole in his hard he hadn't even known was there.
"I want to eat everything, but I know I won't have room for it all," she confided, turning toward a table.
He shrugged. "Who cares? Eat what you want to eat. Love what you love."
"Well, if you say so! Oooh, what's that?" She pointed.
He picked one up by the toothpick speared through the side to examine it.
"It's a fig stuffed with cheese and wrapped in prosciutto," he said.
"A fig? That's a tiny fig," she said dubiously. It was no larger than the last joint of her thumb.
"The tiny ones taste better. They're not all blown up with water," he said, and pointed to the near-black skin. "See how the skin is cracked? That's a good sign. It’ll be ripe and sweet."
She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "Are you secretly a fig farmer in your spare time, Gabriel?"
He had to laugh. "Sad to say, I'm not. But there was a fig tree at the house I grew up in, by the coast. I gorged myself on them every fall as a child. My mother, too. The ones the ants and birds didn't get, anyway."
She popped the morsel in her mouth, groaning appreciatively and giving an approving nod. "I could eat those all night," she sighed.
Gabriel took one himself, savoring the salty meat, creamy goat cheese, and sweet fruit as they moved down the table.
"Your mother—will I meet her soon?"
"I hope so." Gabriel smiled at the thought of his mate meeting his mother, but Amelia was biting her lip.
"Are you nervous?" he asked.
"No!" she protested, too strongly. Her voice dropped when she said, "Well . . . maybe a little."
"You shouldn't be. She'll love you." Gabriel was confident.
"It's just a little intimidating. After all, she made you. She must be an amazing person," she teased.
"I could say the same about your mother," he returned.
Amelia's laugh was full-throated. "My mother is . . . something, all right. Oh, I wish she could have been here. She would have loved this. She instilled me with my healthy appreciation for delicious food. But she's on a cruise in . . . Northern Europe, I think." Her voice was wistful.
Gabriel kissed her temple. "You'll see her soon. It's only a little longer."
"We could do a meet-the-moms thing together. Brunch or something?" she said hopefully. "When everything settles down."
"Sounds perfect to—"
Gabriel was cut off by the loudspeaker coming online and the lights darkening to highlight the figure at the center of the dance floor. In the background, the sound of music faded to make way for the new voice. He drew Amelia closer, mindful of the little buzz in the back of his mind that warned him of the danger Amelia was in. But it was the King.
His smile was wide as he spoke. "In honor of Princess Amelia, tonight's entertainment includes an extensive firework display. If everyone will be so kind as to follow the escorts to the gardens, it is time for the fireworks show to begin!"
Excited murmuring zipped infectiously through the guests. Next to him, Amelia shivered and clutched his hand harder. Colorfully dressed guides holding torches escorted everyone through the now-dimmed halls until spilled out into the wide-open palace courtyard and gardens. The night was deep and dark, the perfect backdrop for a lights show.
People were still moving, situating themselves, spilling out of the wide palace doors. It would be a few minutes more until the show started. Some of the King’s people guided him and Amelia outside
For a moment, he allowed himself to believe that everything was going to be okay.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Zavinia!"
Gabriel's head jerked up at the sound of that voice.
It was Henri.
"Shit!" Edric swore in his earpiece.
"What is going on?" Gabriel hissed.
"He wasn't doing anything weird. He just jumped up on that bench—"
Henri was standing on
one of the stone benches that edged the garden. At the sound of his voice, many people in the crowd turned to him, and some were wondering in whispers whether this was part of the show.
There weren't supposed to be any lights outside, so that everyone could see the fireworks better. But near Henri were two lit torches, one on either side, illuminating him and drawing more attention. In the torchlight he looked manic, almost mad.
"Stay here," Gabriel whispered to Amelia. "He's got something planned. I'm going to see if I can do something about him."
"Be careful!" Amelia squeezed his hand.
Henri's voice carried over the crowd, which was now mostly silent as Gabriel jostled his way through them.
"We are supposed to be celebrating tonight. Celebrating what, I ask you?" Henri laughed, loud and theatrical. "Surely, like me, you are questioning the decisions of the Royal House of Zavinia at this moment. The King has produced—out of nowhere, I might add—an American girl he claims to be his brother's blood. Well, how would we know? She could be anyone. Anyone at all."
Behind Henri, Gabriel spotted Edric, who was being restrained by one of Henri's own bodyguards. Several of them ringed him, protecting him from being taken down.
"An American girl who has never stepped foot in Zavinia before this week," Henri mused. "That's who the King thinks should succeed him. And who are we to question that? Well, I question it!" His face twisted with rage. "I question that! I was supposed to take the throne after that impotent old man died. It was supposed to be me! And this little girl just tries to come in here and sweep it all out from under me!"
The crowd was murmuring discontentedly, though whether it was discontentment with Henri or agreement with his words Gabriel couldn't tell.
"Excuse me, excuse me," he muttered with increasing urgency, pushing aside people.
"It's just not fair!" Henri bellowed. "Do you know who her mate is? A bastard. A bodyguard. A commoner! Disgusting. This country is going to the dogs!" He was obviously starting to lose control, and people who lost control were dangerous.