by Zoe Chant
“Ready to tell me what’s going on?” Hal asked, without even saying hello first.
“I am. There is something I have never told you. When I was eighteen, I was promised in marriage. It is part of a treaty between my country, Brandusa, and a neighboring country, Viorel.” Lucas summarized the story of his arranged marriage to Princess Raluca of Viorel and the oath they both had sworn. “That is why I left Brandusa, Hal. I did not wish to marry the princess, and I hoped to find my mate elsewhere. But I never found her, and so I must go.”
“But—” Hal sounded more at a loss than Lucas had ever heard before. “Lucas, have you even met this princess? What if she is your mate, after all?”
“We have met. We are not mates. That is why we were allowed to wait for five years. Every dragon must be permitted a chance to seek out their mate.”
“What happens if you get married, and then one of you finds your mate?”
“Honor takes precedence. Dragons do not divorce.”
“Then don’t marry her!” Hal’s deep voice almost made the phone vibrate in Lucas’s hand. “Tell them all to go to hell. You’ll be doing the princess a favor, too.”
Lucas’s jaw was clenched so tightly, his teeth hurt. He forced his mouth open. “You do not understand. It is a matter of honor. Without honor, I have nothing— I am nothing.”
“I don’t see the honor in marrying someone you don’t love and who doesn’t love you!” Hal spoke in a growl; his bear was close to the surface.
Lucas’s anger and bitterness chilled into an icy numbness. Of course Hal didn’t understand. No American could understand. What did it matter that Lucas had to leave this country, where he had never fit in anyway— could never fit in?
“Hal, I leave you my car, my apartment, and everything in it. Keep them or give them away or sell them, as you please.” Lucas hesitated, remembering how Destiny loved riding in his Porsche Carrera. “No. I leave you my apartment and possessions. Please give Destiny my car.”
“This is crazy, Lucas!” Hal shouted so loudly, Lucas was forced to hold the phone away from his ear. “You sit tight. I’m rounding up whoever’s available, and we’re coming to your apartment to talk some sense into you.”
Lucas spoke quickly; Hal did not live far away. “Ah, and also on second thought, give Rafa my apartment. He jokes about getting a ‘swinging bachelor pad,’ but perhaps he would truly enjoy one.”
“I’m not giving anyone anything of yours, because you’re not leaving!” Hal yelled.
“Let the others look through my possessions. If they see anything they want, please let them take it.” Lucas hated to give up his favorite weapon, a gold-plated custom pistol, but guns were illegal in Brandusa. With a sigh, he said, “Shane may have my Desert Eagle. He will treat it with the care it deserves.”
Hal spoke with quiet urgency. “Lucas, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right there.”
“The key will be under the mat.”
The line clicked as Hal hung up. Lucas hoped Hal had heard him.
Unlike most shifters, dragons could take their clothing and some additional weight with them when they transformed. Lucas had always supposed it was from necessity. If dragons had to leave behind their gold when they shifted, they would probably never shift at all.
He opened the safe that contained his hoard. His dragon’s lust for gold and jewels took him even in his haste, and for several seconds he stood mesmerized by the exquisite glitter of his treasure. Then he poured the precious gems and gold coins into a pouch and tied it around his waist, and put on all the jewelry. The chill and weight of gold was soothing on his skin.
Lucas caught sight of himself as he strode past a reflective window, with jeweled rings on every finger and heavy gold chains wrapped around his throat and wrists. He looked like a king about to ride out to his death in a battle he knew he could not win.
He stepped out into the corridor, locked the door, and slipped the key under the mat. “I’m ready.”
For the first time in Lucas’s life, Grand Duke Vaclav gave him an approving nod. “Now you look like a proper prince.”
Lucas hurried him up the stairs, expecting at any minute to hear the loud tread of Hal’s footsteps behind them. When they got to the roof, he made a quick but thorough scan of the area. No one was in sight, and no planes or helicopters flew overhead.
“Conceal yourself,” Grand Duke Vaclav warned him. “You do not know who might be watching.”
“I know,” Lucas snapped, and was annoyed to hear his own voice. He sounded like the resentful teenager he had once been. He had to keep hold of his real self: Lucas the man, not Lucas the boy.
He could tell already that it would be hard.
Grand Duke Vaclav drew in a deep breath. The air around him sparkled black. Lucas’s vision blurred, and he felt the desire to look elsewhere, accompanied by the certainty that what he was looking at was ordinary and unimportant. But he kept watching. As a dragon shifter, he still felt the effects of draconic concealment, but unlike humans or non-dragon shifters, he could resist them.
The black sparks became a whirlwind, then a blizzard. Grand Duke Vaclav vanished within the flurry. Then the sparks winked out of existence. Where a gray-haired man had once stood, a dragon crouched. Every scale and claw gleamed black as if it had been carved from polished iron.
“Lucas!”
He spun around. Hal and Nick burst through the stairs and stood facing him. Hal must have found Nick in the gym; his chest was bare, and his black hair and werewolf gang tattoos glistened with sweat.
“I am sorry, Hal. I...” Lucas swallowed against a lump in his throat. “I have very much enjoyed working at Protection, Inc. I shall never forget it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Nick burst out. “And what’s with all that bling?”
The iron dragon’s obsidian eyes narrowed in contempt. He launched off the roof and rose into the sky, then dipped a wingtip, urging Lucas to join him.
Hal and Nick couldn’t see the dragon, but Hal must have spotted Lucas’s gaze shift.
“Is someone here with you?” Hal asked. His hand was on his gun; so was Nick’s. “Lucas, are you leaving of your own free will?”
No, Lucas thought. I am leaving because honor compels me.
But Hal wouldn’t understand that.
“No one can force a dragon to do anything.” Lucas lowered his gaze, unable to meet the frustrated concern in Hal’s hazel eyes or the hot anger in Nick’s green eyes. “Farewell.”
He reached within himself, seeking his dragon. Lucas drew upon his lust for gold, his joy in flight, and the assured power and detachment that he could only imitate as a human. He saw Hal and Nick begin to run forward. Then he was lost in his own transformation, his blood burning through his veins like molten gold, his body expanding like a butterfly breaking free of its cocoon.
His wings stretched out, his powerful legs tensed, and then he was aloft, soaring above the rooftop. The two humans shrank below, frustration and anger in every line of their bodies. Their faces turned upward, seeking him, but whether they could see him or not, he was out of their reach.
The part of Lucas that belonged to the man felt his heart crack into a million tiny pieces. Then his dragon took over. He twisted easily in the air, his wings stroking upward, shedding all feelings but glory in the freedom of the sky.
The gold dragon followed the iron dragon, heading home.
Lucas preferred to fly at a leisurely pace and watch the land below. But his great-uncle urged him onward, faster and faster, casting disdainful glances whenever Lucas lagged.
Lucas’s sigh came out in a puff of flame. Despite his resolve, he had no desire to arrive sooner. But he beat his powerful wings until he passed the iron dragon. He maintained that position for the rest of the trip, a full night and day in the air. They landed only briefly, to drink from lakes and to hunt a pair of deer for their supper. Lucas was just as happy to stay a dragon for the trip. He did not enjoy conversing with his
great-uncle.
When he was aloft, Lucas focused on flight and tried not to think of anything else. He especially tried not to think of how he’d fled from his own teammates without preparing them for his departure because of his foolish hope that he wouldn’t have to leave and his cowardice in wishing not to explain it to their faces.
He might be leaving to fulfill a vow of honor, but the way he’d left had been anything but honorable. Even if a miracle occurred and his mate ran to greet him when he landed, he’d never be able to face anyone in Protection, Inc. again.
Land and sea flashed by beneath his wings. As the sun began to set, Lucas saw the familiar dense forests and peaked roofs of Brandusa. He slowed, spiraling downward, until the turrets and towers of his ancestral palace came into view. The soft glow of its golden marble and the sparkle of its inlay of real gold gave him a pang of mixed resentment and nostalgia.
He braked his speed as he descended to the walled courtyard and the mossy floor, which was tended constantly by gardeners to provide a comfortable landing surface. Then his talons touched down.
Lucas was home.
A crowd of courtiers, servants, and family hurried to greet him and Grand Duke Vaclav, who had landed behind him. The dragon shifters must have spotted them flying in. Lucas became a man and drew himself up, his great-uncle’s lessons in deportment echoing in his ears: spine straight, shoulders back, chest out, chin up.
He greeted everyone as was proper for their station, from a polite nod to the servant who offered him a damp cloth to wipe his face to a formal embrace of his aunt and uncle, Queen Livia and King Andrei. His own mixed emotions at his return were mirrored in their faces: though they had always been kind to him, he was sure they’d have preferred him to find his mate in America and never return.
The throne of Brandusa had passed to them after his parents died when he was ten, as he had been far too young to rule. But he remained crown prince and would become king upon their deaths. Their own children could only inherit the crown if Lucas renounced it or died without having children himself.
Lucas glanced into the crowd. Sure enough, his cousins’ faces displayed thin veils of welcome over their actual feelings of dislike and resentment.
He sighed. If it wasn’t for honor, he’d have been thrilled to hand over his position to them and let them all duel each other for the crown when the time came.
Queen Livia gave him a slightly wistful but genuine smile. “How lovely to see you again, Lucas.”
King Andrei shook his hand hard. “Yes, indeed. Welcome home!”
The king and queen had aged more than Lucas had expected. They were only middle-aged, but their faces were lined and silver strands glittered in their black hair. Even in the partly-ceremonial position that royalty now held in Brandusa, ruling a country was obviously not easy. And though they were quite fond of each other, they were not mates, but had participated in an arranged marriage meant to strengthen ties between their countries. For the first time, Lucas wondered if either of them had ever met their mate after they were married and it was too late.
After a long exchange of greetings and catching-up, Queen Livia said, “You must be weary, Lucas. I have arranged for you and Princess Raluca to have a quiet dinner for two. Then you must get some rest. Your engagement ball is tomorrow night.”
“What?” Lucas exclaimed. He felt like the ground had been yanked out from under his feet. Again. “I thought those things took months to prepare!”
“They do,” Queen Livia replied calmly. “We have been preparing it for months. All we need from you is your attendance.”
Lucas couldn’t help turning to his great-uncle, feeling unreasonably betrayed. “You could have told me.”
“It was my honor to escort you back to the palace, your highness,” Grand Duke Vaclav said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. Then he bowed and departed.
King Andrei cleared his throat. “Lucas, Princess Raluca’s uncle, Duke Constantine, has graced us with his presence.”
Lucas, who had been pretending not to see him, gave the duke a formal bow. “How kind of you to join us.”
Duke Constantine smirked. “Oh, the pleasure was all mine.”
Lucas supposed it was unfair to dislike the duke, given that they barely knew each other. But Duke Constantine stood to profit immensely by the trade treaty that would be signed when the marriage occurred. Lucas had always suspected that he favored the marriage because it benefited himself, not his country. Now, seeing how the duke openly gloated, Lucas was certain of it.
Gritting his teeth, Lucas turned away from the duke to greet the servants. It was a small slight, but he couldn’t resist it.
Lucas’s old nanny, Vasilica, inspected him from head to toe, clucking in disapproval. “Such strange clothes you’re wearing! Your highness, you must be measured by the tailors before you sleep tonight. The attire prepared for the ball was made from your last measurements. It will not do.”
His cousin Adelina shot him a look of equal disapproval, but expressed it with a dainty sniff. “Indeed. You are much larger now, Lucas. I had heard that Americans are all enormous from stuffing themselves with burgers and fries—” She spoke the words as if she’d said slugs and roaches. “—but I expected you to have more self-control.”
It was true that Lucas had gained weight since he was eighteen, but it was muscle, not fat. Annoyed, he shot back, “Your own self-control is formidable, Adelina. I am impressed at your efforts to reduce yourself to a skeleton.”
“Children!” Vasilica scolded, as if they were both ten. “Come along, Lucas. The princess is waiting.”
Lucas followed her into the palace, glad to escape his catty cousin and the nosy crowd of courtiers. He felt dazed. How could the ball be tomorrow? He’d thought he’d have months to prepare himself. Instead, he’d have a night and a day.
His footsteps echoed on the marble floors. Everyone who saw him stopped to bow and greet him, so his progress was slow. Seeing more people brought home to him how poorly he fit in. He still wore the tailored suit he’d had on at Protection, Inc. It was perfectly cut and expensive, but formal dress in Brandusa consisted of colorful tunics and breeches. He stood out like a crow in a flock of parrots.
And he couldn’t even change for dinner, because Vasilica was right— his old clothes wouldn’t fit him now. Like many dragons, he had been slow to reach his full adult growth. He was six inches taller and forty pounds heavier than when he’d been eighteen.
Vasilica stopped before the most lavish guest chamber in the palace. Lucas knew it well. Princess Raluca had stayed in it the last time they had met, when they had both been eighteen.
His old nurse winked at him, making her many wrinkles deepen. “Go on, your highness!”
She bustled away, leaving Lucas alone in front of the door. It was hundreds of years old, carved with flying dragons. Five years ago, Raluca had closed it in his face after telling him that she would pray nightly that he found his mate, for she could never love him.
You are a prince and a dragon, he reminded himself. Do not add to the cowardice you have already committed this day.
He knocked on the door. “Hello? It’s Lucas.”
Raluca opened it. “Come in.”
He walked into the chamber. The door closed behind him with a final-sounding click.
The last time he had seen her, she had been taller than him and painfully self-conscious about it, with bones too pronounced for her skinny frame. Her hair had been the color of ash, and her skin and lips so pale that she forever appeared on the verge of fainting. Only her eyes had been beautiful, gray as storm clouds and framed with thick black lashes.
Raluca had changed. She had grown into her height and seemed comfortable with it, radiating graceful poise. Her chiseled bones now lent her a fierce and elegant beauty. Her skin was flawless ivory, her lips were red as wine, and her hair shone silver as molten metal. Not a trace remained of the awkward girl she’d been, except for her storm-gray eyes.
And yet she was nothing more to him than a lovely stranger.
Raluca too was looking him over. Unexpectedly, she let out a chiming laugh, then clapped a slim hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I am not laughing at you. Only at my memory of how awkward we both were. I am glad I am no longer eighteen.”
“So am I.” Spotting the table set for two, he formally bowed and offered Raluca his arm. “Shall we dine?”
She took his arm, allowing him to escort her to the table. Lucas tried to ignore the pointed selection of food— champagne, oysters on the half-shell, roast venison in berry sauce, and broiled quails— all of which was considered either romantic or aphrodisiac.
He’d dated in the years since he’d left Brandusa. He’d even had affairs with women. None had made him catch fire inside, as mates were said to do, but he had enjoyed himself. This would be no different.
Raluca was a charming dinner companion, not to mention extraordinarily beautiful. The dinner passed pleasantly enough until Lucas reached for the dessert, a golden globe set into a platter filled with ice. When he uncovered it, he was confronted by a heart-shaped raspberry sorbet decorated with a scattering of red rose petals and a pair of chocolate wedding rings covered in edible gold foil.
Lucas and Raluca stared at the romantic dessert, then at each other. The acute embarrassment he felt was mirrored on her face. Then they both burst out laughing. Lucas supposed it was either laugh, or fling themselves out the window and refrain from shifting on the way down.
“I hope it’s as delicious as it is unsubtle,” Raluca said at last.
Lucas removed the rings, then took the gold spoons and molded the heart into a diamond. “There! Now it’s a reference to a game of cards.”
Raluca snapped the wedding rings into small pieces and scattered them atop the diamond. “And the coins one might win.”
He smiled at her, the chill in his heart easing a little. “Do you wish this marriage, Raluca? If you choose to refuse it, I will too. I would not let you accept dishonor alone.”