“I know.” Go to war on multiple fronts and destroy the country. Silas sighed. “I’d like to find a special ring for Lady Gwennore. She was admiring the emerald ring you gave Freya last summer. Can you tell me where you got it?”
Petras waved a hand. “You won’t find another one like it. He had it made especially for the queen.”
“Who?” Silas asked softly.
“Fafnir.”
Silas’s breath caught. The dragon had given the king a poisoned ring?
“In the last year, he’s had a few pieces of jewelry made for Freya,” Petras continued. “He wanted to prove that he’s on our side.”
“Since he’s on our side, I’d like to meet him.”
Petras shook his head. “He talks only to me.” He headed for the door. “Keep me informed. The Summoning is in a week, next Diamonday. I need some answers by then.”
“I went to the Sacred Well.”
Petras spun around. “What?”
“Fafnir wasn’t there.”
Petras’s gaze darted frantically around the room. “O-of course he wasn’t there. He refuses to see anyone but me.”
Silas’s heart clenched once again with the fear that his brother was not only paranoid, but delusional. But if Petras was imagining the dragon, then where had the poisoned ring come from?
Petras stalked toward him. “You shouldn’t have gone there. You might have frightened him off!”
“He’s a fire-breathing dragon. Why would he frighten so easily?”
“He—he was injured by one of our ancestors. He’s afraid to trust us!” Petras scrubbed a hand over his face. “How could you do that? He might be the only way we can get rid of the curse!”
“My apologies, Your Majesty.”
Petras frowned at him, then finally nodded. “All right. We’re agreed, then. You’ll leave Fafnir to me.” He hurried through the door to his wife’s bedchamber.
Silas took a deep breath. There was no way he was leaving his brother to deal with Fafnir. Whoever the hell this bastard was, he was poisoning the queen and trying to destroy their country with hopelessly suicidal wars.
* * *
The next morning, while Gwennore was putting on a clean shift in her dressing room, she realized she might have to wear one of the fancy gowns that Margosha had lent her. The breeches she’d worn yesterday had gotten dirty during their afternoon tromp through the forest to collect medicinal plants. “Did you wash the breeches?”
“Yes, my lady, but they’re not quite dry.” Nissa pointed to a green brocade gown. “Perhaps you should wear this one since it’s Emeralday.”
Gwennore sighed. It seemed silly to wear such an elaborate court dress when she was going to spend the entire day in the workroom. “What I need is some work clothes. Do you have anything I could borrow?
Nissa gasped. “My lady, you can’t wear a servant’s clothes. Not when you’re…” She ducked her head, blushing.
“What?”
With a shy smile, Nissa pointed at the door to Silas’s dressing room. “I’m so happy for you, my lady.”
Gwennore glanced at his door. She could hear running water. Silas must be washing up. “Why are you happy?”
With a grin, Nissa clasped her hands together. “You’re back together with His Highness.”
“What? No!”
“You were seen, my lady.” Nissa lowered her voice to a whisper. “The two of you left his bedchamber yesterday, and he was still getting dressed.” She turned away, her face blushing.
“That doesn’t mean we…” Oh dear goddesses. Gwennore grabbed the green brocade gown and slipped it over her head. At least she could stay in the workroom all day, far away from the ridiculous gossip. “Could you do the laces, please?”
“Of course.” Nissa stepped behind her. “Everyone’s talking about it. Some people are saying you’ve bewitched the general.”
Gwennore snorted. “So now they think I’m a witch.”
“I told them you’re not.” Nissa tugged at the laces. “Others are saying the general has succumbed to madness like the queen.”
Gwennore closed her eyes briefly. That was even worse. How could Silas inherit the throne if everyone thought he was insane?
“At least no one is saying you want to kill him anymore.”
Gwennore scoffed. “Well, that’s nice of them.”
Nissa tied off the laces. “They’re saying you want him alive, so you can marry him and become the next queen.”
Gwennore turned to face her maid. “That’s not true. I’m leaving in a few days.” Perhaps. She wasn’t so sure anymore. Her heart was being torn in two.
“How can you leave?” Nissa’s eyes widened. “Don’t you care for the general?”
Goddesses, yes. She more than cared for him. “I care enough not to cause him any trouble.” She recalled the scornful glares outside the queen’s bedchamber. “There are too many people here who hate me.”
“Oh, you must have heard.” Nissa grimaced.
“Heard what?” When her maid ducked her head, Gwennore touched her shoulder. “Tell me.”
Nissa grabbed hold of the gold-painted bead that hung from a leather cord around her neck. “Some people are saying it’s not the curse that’s killing the queen. They think it’s you.”
Gwennore gasped. Dammit. She was so damned tired of being misjudged and reviled. Why should she stay here and help these ungrateful people?
“I told them they were wrong!” Nissa insisted. “I know how hard you’re working to get rid of the curse.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Please don’t leave us. We need you. The general needs you.”
Tears burned Gwennore’s eyes when she imagined Nissa all alone, trying to defend her. “I’ll stay awhile longer.”
“Thank you.” Nissa wiped her cheeks dry.
Gwennore pulled her into a hug. “No, thank you for reminding me that I have true friends here.”
Nissa gave her a tremulous smile. “Let me know if you need anything.” She ran from the room.
Gwennore let out a groan as she dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. Wherever she went, it was always the same. People gossiped about her in Eberon and Tourin, too. If she truly wanted to escape prejudice, she would have to spend the rest of her life in the convent on the Isle of Moon.
No. She would not be chased off the mainland. She had to be stronger than that. After splashing some cold water on her face, she dried herself with a towel and glanced at the door to Silas’s dressing room. Was he aware of the rumors circulating in the castle?
The quickest way to set everyone straight would be for him to denounce their relationship. She pressed an ear to the door. The water had stopped some time ago. He should have had time to dress.
She tossed her towel onto the dressing table, then cracked the door open. “Hello?”
“Ah! Dammit!”
She gasped as the door swung open. Silas was standing in front of a mirror, wearing only a towel around his hips while he shaved. A trickle of blood ran down his jawline, mingling with the white lather.
She stepped toward him. “You cut yourself!”
“You surprised me.” He turned to face her as he pressed a handkerchief against the cut.
“I-I’m sorry.” She backed toward the door. “I thought you would be dressed.”
“Don’t leave now.” He gave her a wry look. “Or I will have been wounded in vain.”
She lowered her eyes to keep from gawking at his chest. Unfortunately, that just brought his towel into view. She dropped her gaze some more. What muscular calves he had.
The floor. That was the only safe place to look.
“That’s a pretty gown. You look beautiful in green.”
She glanced up. He had turned toward the mirror again and was finishing his shave. She winced as he scraped the sharp blade up his throat.
He rinsed the blade off in a bowl of water, then glanced at her. “I like your hair loose like that.”
Oh. She tucked her
hair behind her ears. In her hurry, she’d forgotten to braid it.
He made another swipe up his throat. “Was there something you wanted?”
Her gaze drifted to his broad shoulders and muscular back. His spine caused an interesting valley at the small of his back. And his rump seemed wonderfully firm.
“Gwen?”
She looked up and discovered him watching her in the mirror. Good goddesses, he’d seen her ogling him. “There’s a … a rumor going around.”
“About the Chameleon?” He finished shaving his neck, then returned to his jawline. “It’s true. Brody confirmed that he’s the one who murdered Romak. But he’s no longer in the castle. Brody and Dimitri searched everywhere.”
“I know about that. Brody told us last night. He’s sleeping in the workroom.”
“There’s no bed there.” Silas rinsed his face with water, then grabbed a towel to dry himself.
“I made a pallet for him. He had to switch back to a dog, because he can’t keep his human form for more than a few hours each day.”
“Really?”
Gwennore winced. Her nervousness was causing her to say things that she shouldn’t. Brody was rather sensitive about the witch’s curse that kept him from being human for most of his life.
“Can you hand me some underpants?” Silas’s mouth twitched. “You know where they are.”
She nabbed a pair off a shelf and tossed them to him. Unfortunately, they didn’t quite reach him, and when he lunged forward to grab them, his towel slipped.
With a gasp, Gwennore spun around. “I need to be going.” She sidestepped toward the open doorway.
“You never told me why you’re here.”
She tried not to think about him standing naked behind her. “The servant who saw us yesterday misinterpreted things, and now everyone believes that we’re…”
“Copulating?”
Making love. She paused in the doorway. “I think it would be for the best if you made it clear to everyone that we’re not … lovers.”
He placed a palm against the wall next to her and leaned forward to look at her. “We could be.”
She blinked a few times, struggling against a desire to drop her gaze. When she did, she saw he had put on the underpants.
“Disappointed?” he asked softly.
Her cheeks grew warm. “Of course not.”
“I’m ready to take them off. And it wouldn’t take me long to remove your gown.”
She scoffed. “I’m not making love to a man I’ve known for less than a week.”
“Ah.” His eyes twinkled as he leaned toward her. “You said love instead of copulate. I wonder why.”
She winced inwardly.
“So how much time do you need?” His mouth curled up. “A week and a half?”
His gorgeous smile and beguiling voice made her heart ache, yearning for the impossible. “Is this a joke to you?”
His smile faded. “No. I’m quite serious. And if you ever say yes, you had better be serious, too, for I won’t be able to let you go. We’ll be more than lovers. We’ll be man and wife.”
She gasped. Marriage? “You—you can’t say that. You’re the heir to the throne.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Don’t you know what people are saying? They think I’m killing the queen! If I ever marry you, they’ll say I murdered my way to the throne!” She stepped through the open doorway.
“Gwen.” He reached out to stop her.
“They’re already questioning your sanity. I’ll question it, too, if you refuse to accept that a relationship between us is impossible.” She slammed the door shut.
Marriage? How could he even contemplate something that would cause him so much trouble?
She slipped on a pair of shoes and dashed to the workroom.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gwennore nibbled on a piece of bread while her mind replayed her last conversation with Silas for the hundredth time. He couldn’t have been serious. What man proposed marriage in less than a week?
She sighed. To be honest with herself, she had to admit that she’d fallen for him very quickly, too. And she still didn’t know if he was actually a dragon.
“Gwen?” Annika waved a hand in her face to get her attention. “What do you think of my great idea?”
“Oh.” She glanced at Annika and Margosha, who were sitting with her, eating breakfast in the workroom. Brody had scampered off in dog form the minute she’d opened the door. She assumed he was spying around the castle. “It sounds good to me.”
Margosha snorted, while Annika rolled her eyes.
“I suggested making a tonic out of horse dung,” Annika muttered. “What’s going on with you?”
Gwennore set the slice of bread on her plate. “People are saying Silas and I are back together.”
“Really?” Annika smirked. “Did you jump his bones?”
Gwennore shook her head. “It’s not amusing. Because of me, people are questioning his sanity, and that puts his inheritance at risk. They’re also saying it’s not the curse that’s killing the queen, but me.”
Margosha winced. “Don’t pay any attention to them. There will always be cruel and nasty people.”
Annika pounded a fist on the table. “They had better not let me hear them spouting that crap! I’ll punch their faces in.”
Gwennore smiled. “Thank—”
The door burst open, and Olenka ran inside.
“My lady!” She dashed toward Gwennore and flung her arms around her. “Have you heard the news?”
“You mean the rumors?” Gwennore asked as she rose to her feet.
“It’s not a rumor. It’s true!” Olenka reached into her gown’s pocket and pulled out a velvet bag. “I won!” She shook the bag to make a clinking noise. “Fifteen pieces of gold!”
“What?”
With a laugh, Olenka nudged Gwennore with her elbow. “You silly goose, acting like you don’t know.” She glanced at the other ladies. “She’s the best friend in the world!”
“What are you talking about?” Margosha asked.
“I won the wager!” Olenka opened the bag and let the gold coins spill out onto the table. “Gwennore cut the general last night, just like I asked her to!”
Annika jumped to her feet, giving Gwennore an incredulous look. “You cut Silas?”
“No!” Gwennore shook her head.
Olenka pulled her into another hug. “How can I ever thank you?”
“You cut Silas?” This time Annika and Margosha said it in unison.
“No!” Gwennore pushed Olenka back. “It was—”
“Don’t worry,” Olenka interrupted. “It was only a tiny nick. Although it is a bit sad that you aimed at his gorgeous face.” She gave Gwennore a disapproving frown.
“I didn’t do it,” Gwennore protested. “Silas cut himself.”
Olenka gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “You asked him to do it for you, and he did?” Her eyes glimmered with tears. “That’s so romantic!”
“No, it’s not!” Gwennore grimaced. “Holy goddesses, I could never ask someone to hurt himself. It was an accident. Silas nicked himself while he was shaving this morning.”
Olenka blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Gwennore planted her hands on her hips. “I saw it, myself.”
“Wait a minute.” Annika stepped closer. “You were with him while he was shaving?”
Gwennore bit her lip. “Well, I dropped by for a few minutes.”
Annika snorted. “Right.” She gave the other women a knowing look.
“I should have known.” Olenka’s shoulders slumped as she picked up the coins and dropped them back into the bag. “I’ll have to return the money.”
“Why should you?” Gwennore asked. “If they were foolish enough to—”
“Because if I accept it, it’s the same as me saying that you did cut the general. I should have known you would never do such a thing.” Olenka stuffed the bag back into her p
ocket. “I let a moment of excitement and greed cloud my judgment.”
Gwennore touched her shoulder. “I won’t be offended if you keep it.”
“No.” Olenka raised her chin. “If I had acted like a true friend, then I would have been offended on your behalf. I’m taking it back, and I’m going to tell them the truth, that you would never hurt anyone.”
Gwennore hugged her. “Thank you.”
Olenka gave them all a grin, then scampered out the door.
Margosha chuckled. “There’s hope for her after all.”
With a smile, Gwennore wandered over to the bowls where the first casket of jewelry was being tested. Her smile faded when she noted that two of the lily pads were starting to shrivel around the edges.
“We may have found more poisoned jewelry.” She fished out the ring resting at the bottom of the first bowl. A large sapphire. The metal seemed a bit dull to be silver. “What do you think this is? Pewter?”
Margosha examined the ring. “Perhaps. This was a birthday present for Her Majesty, so she’s had it about four months.”
“A present?” Annika frowned. “From her husband?”
Margosha nodded as she dropped the ring back into the bowl.
Gwennore fished out the second suspicious piece of jewelry. Another ring, this one an opal. Once again, the metal was a dull grayish color.
“The queen received that one last summer as an anniversary present,” Margosha said.
“From her husband,” Annika muttered.
Gwennore glanced at her. The king was Annika’s cousin, so she obviously didn’t want to see him as a villain. “I don’t think he’s the one trying to hurt her. The culprit would be whoever is supplying him with this jewelry.”
Margosha nodded. “I agree. And these rings couldn’t be the only things hurting Her Majesty. She’s been ill for several years, but these rings were given to her this last year.”
Gwennore located the emerald ring that they also suspected was tainted. It was also set in a dull silver-colored metal. “But it’s true that in the past year, her illness has worsened quite a bit?”
Margosha winced. “Yes.”
So the rings had accelerated a problem that already existed. Gwennore set the ring down and looked at her hands. Was she exposing herself and her friends to poison? “Let’s heat up some water and wash our hands.”
Eight Simple Rules for Dating a Dragon Page 26