by Zoe Chant
Only Queen Livia managed a smile. “I understand the desire to snatch a moment alone, my dears, but it’s nearly midnight. You must hurry back for the ring ceremony.”
Lucas stood up straight and tall, deliberately looming over the lot of them. With a strange mixture of satisfaction and nervous anticipation, he said, “There won’t be any ring ceremony. I just met my mate. The arrangement is off.”
Everyone broke into a discordant chorus of angry or shocked or denying exclamations.
“Be quiet and listen!” Lucas heard the command in his own voice. Everyone fell silent in an instant.
For the second time that night, he recounted his meeting with Journey, and how she’d misunderstood his intentions and fled. While the king and queen clearly had mixed feelings, which Lucas could guess was a combination of happiness for him and alarm at the political fallout, Grand Duke Vaclav and Duke Constantine looked ready to spontaneously combust with rage.
The king was the first to speak. “But Lucas, you cannot break the arrangement simply by telling us that you found your mate. You must bring her to the palace and have her state her intention to marry you.”
Lucas had forgotten about that part. His jaw clenched so hard, his teeth hurt. Journey would hardly agree to get engaged tonight. He’d be lucky if she even gave him a chance to explain tonight!
“Surely I can be allowed a grace period, given that I’ve already found her,” Lucas pointed out. “I can’t do the ring ceremony with Raluca knowing that I already have a mate, then produce her later and break the engagement.”
“Indeed he cannot,” Raluca chimed in. “How humiliating for me. Under the circumstances, I refuse to do the ring ceremony.”
Their relatives all looked at each other, seeming to reach some silent agreement. Then King Andrei turned back to Lucas. “I give you one month to get engaged to your mate. If you can do that, the entire arrangement is off. If you can’t, you marry Raluca.”
“But my mate is human,” Lucas protested. “And American! She’ll think it’s too soon.”
Queen Livia patted his shoulder. “My dear, simply explain it to her. She’ll see the necessity of an early commitment.”
Lucas forced himself not to make any further protests. Arranged marriages were normal for them. It would make no sense to them if he said, “But it’s not fair to her to pressure her like that.”
“Very well,” he said.
“I agree,” said Raluca. “Lucas, she is your mate. You’re destined to be together. But don’t chase after her tonight. Let her sleep on it. Then get her address from the guest list, and we’ll both visit her tomorrow. I’ll help you explain about the engagement.”
Much as Lucas longed to rush to Journey right now, he had to admit that Raluca’s idea was less likely to make her flee in horror. Again. “Good idea.”
“And what do we say to the guests at your engagement ball?” Grand Duke Vaclav asked icily.
If the entire city began chattering about Journey being Lucas’s mate before he got a chance to properly court her, she’d probably catch the first plane back to America.
“Raluca, could we claim that you fell ill?” Lucas asked. “We could say it’s not serious, but you don’t want to get engaged when you’re not feeling well.”
“If it will get me out of this marriage, I’ll faint in full view of the entire ballroom.” She winked at Lucas as if she was looking forward to it.
“Raluca!” Duke Constantine snapped. “It is your duty as a princess to marry to benefit your country, not yourself.”
“To benefit you,” Lucas muttered. Louder, he said, “Fainting will not be necessary. You can return to the palace through a different entrance. I’ll make the announcement.”
Raluca ran off, her skirts trailing behind her like a flag. Lucas suppressed a sigh. He didn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him, but it was something of a blow to his vanity to have two women run away from him in a single night.
Lucas could feel the dukes’ glares at his back as he returned to the ballroom. He waved the orchestra to silence, made his announcement, and left as quickly as possible, claiming that he had to go sit by Raluca’s side.
It was an immense relief to get to his bedroom, dismiss his valet, and close the door behind him. He sat down on his bed, tired but hopeful. Tomorrow he’d see Journey again. He’d have Raluca with him to prove he wasn’t trying to cheat on her. He’d be able to take his time explaining the situation, rather than babbling in an incoherent rush.
And he’d bring her an apology gift. By American standards, the normal dragon gifts of precious jewelry would be far too lavish. But he knew just the thing: a bottle of dragonfire. She’d enjoy that, he was certain. And she wouldn’t know it cost its weight in gold.
Feeling much better, Lucas walked to the closet. He took out a pair of pajamas and started to unfold them to make sure they were new and would fit him, rather than being a relic from his teenage years.
Protect Journey!
Lucas dropped the pajamas, startled by his dragon’s sudden roar.
“What?” Lucas asked aloud. “What’s going on?”
Journey’s in danger! Defend her!
Lucas didn’t pause to ask how his dragon knew. His dragon could be reckless and hot-tempered and uncaring of human concerns, but Lucas knew instinctively, as surely as he knew that Journey was his mate, that his dragon was right.
He automatically looked for his gun before remembering that he’d left it in his apartment in America. He was in Brandusa now, where guns were so thoroughly banned that even criminals didn’t have them.
Then he saw the sword hanging on the wall. In the instant it took him to grab it, he hoped he hadn’t forgotten how to use it. Then his hand closed around the hilt. It was as familiar as a lifelong friend, as familiar as Journey’s eyes.
Lucas buckled on his sword and turned toward the door.
There is no time, said his dragon. Fly!
Lucas ran across the room and threw open the window. He hesitated, looking at the ground five stories below. He’d never transformed in midair before. If he was too slow, he’d fall to his death.
He leaped out into the night. For a terrifying instant, he was a man plummeting through the air. Then he was a dragon, straining to catch the wind beneath his wings and arrest his fall. The tip of his tail touched the ground, and then he was skimming over the garden, his powerful wings taking him up and out, over the palace walls.
Lucas concentrated to make himself invisible, then flew on. The moon shone full, casting a silvery light over the sleeping city. It was easy to spot the Florescu’s neighborhood, though he’d have to land to find the house itself.
But as he started to search for an open square where he’d have room to touch down, his dragon instincts urged him further on, past the homes and to the woods beside the riverbank. Why would Journey be in trouble in that remote area, in the middle of the night?
He supposed he’d find out. He landed as close as he could to the area where he instinctively knew she was, touching down on the empty road beside the woods. Once he became a man, his instincts were less sharp. But where instinct left off, training took over.
Lucas drew his sword and slipped into the woods, moving silently, all his senses alert and focused. His mate was in danger. He would protect her with his life. Nothing else mattered.
Chapter Six
Journey
Journey stood gazing at the rushing river. The moonlight turned it to liquid silver. She tried to fix the sight into her memory, so she could treasure it always.
There was a sharp crack behind her like a branch snapping underfoot. Journey jumped, then turned around.
She saw nothing but the woods. But she had a sense that something... or someone... was watching her from within them. It was probably a deer; they were big enough to snap a branch if they stepped on it. But her back crept.
Though she felt foolish, she called out, “Hello? Is someone there?”
&n
bsp; There was no reply. No sound.
Deer were active at dawn and dusk, not in the middle of the night. And an animal would have run and made more noise when she’d shouted.
Journey’s sense of uneasiness increased. She might have bad instincts when it came to men who were dangerous to her heart, but she was an excellent judge of physical safety. Her rule of thumb for traveling alone was to listen to her gut and trust that if something made her nervous, there was probably a reason. That rule had kept her safe so far.
Her gut told her now that she was in deadly peril.
She would have screamed, but the noise of the river would drown out her voice. Instead, Journey yanked up her skirts in both hands, then bolted along the narrow riverbank. There was a stone bridge further on, which led to more woods, and then another residential neighborhood. If she could get across the bridge—
“After her!” The voice was rough and male. “Quick, she’s getting away!”
Adrenaline surged through Journey’s blood. She dared one quick glance over her shoulder as she ran, her heart pounding.
Six men in black cloth masks had emerged from the woods. Their brandished swords glinted sharp and deadly in the moonlight. And they were gaining on her.
Journey tore along the riverbank, her breath searing her lungs. But though she ran as fast as she could, the footsteps behind her came closer with every step she took. Terror nearly stopped her heart. She’d never make it to the bridge. If she jumped into the river, with its treacherous undercurrents, she’d probably be swept away and drown. But at least she’d have a chance. She started to turn toward the water.
Another man stepped out of the woods in front of her, sword in hand.
A shriek burst from Journey’s throat. Then she recognized him. Her scream changed into a choked gasp of surprise. It was Lucas.
“Go over the bridge!” He gestured behind him with his free hand. “I’ll protect you.”
Journey ran past him, her chest heaving for breath. The men chasing her shouted in anger and confusion, but the blood was pounding so hard in her ears that she couldn’t understand the words. Her feet slammed into hard stone. She’d reached the bridge.
Halfway along its short span, she heard Lucas’s voice rise above the tumult. “Surrender, or I’ll burn you to ash and gone!”
Burn? Journey thought. With a sword?
Out of all the bizarre events of the last few minutes, that was so strange that it stopped her in her tracks. Gasping for breath, she turned around.
Lucas held the masked men at bay. There were six of them to one of him, but none of them moved to attack him. But they still held their swords at the ready. They seemed to be at a stand-off.
Even in the terror and shock of the moment, Journey was struck by how magnificent he looked. His hair and the embroidered dragons on his tunic shone like platinum, his jewelry of gold and diamonds glittered in the moonlight, and he stood poised with a deadly grace. She had no doubt that he could strike like lightning.
“Who sent you?” Lucas demanded.
The fury in his voice would have terrified anyone, and she saw several of the men flinch. But none replied.
Lucas spoke more softly, but with an even more frightening chill in his voice. “Who sent you?”
The men still didn’t speak, though they shifted uncomfortably.
“I see,” said Lucas. “I would recognize your voices. Or your accents, perhaps. But you only delay the inevitable. You know you cannot fight me. Surrender.”
Is he really that good? Journey wondered. Is any swordfighter good enough to fight six to one?
She bit her lip, trying to figure out what she should do. Run and get help? Stay so she could help if a fight started? She wasn’t armed, but maybe she could throw something and distract them. Journey looked around for throwing material, but saw nothing.
“I have made two calls for surrender,” Lucas said. “This is your last chance. Surrender, or face the dragon!”
One of the masked men lunged to the side, trying to dart into the woods. As Lucas’s sword flashed down to bar his way, another man moved his bare hand as if he was throwing something at Lucas. Journey couldn’t see what he held, but clear liquid glittered in the air.
Lucas ducked, but some of whatever it was must have hit him. Though nothing else had touched him, he let out a cry of surprise and pain.
Acid? Journey thought, horrified.
Instantly, four of the men attacked Lucas. While he was distracted fighting them, the other two vanished into the woods. Lucas’s sword moved too fast for Journey’s eyes to follow, flashing like a silver streak. The clash of steel rose up above the sound of the rushing waters. First one masked man, then another dropped his sword with a yelp. Both backed away, their sword arms hanging limp, clearly disabled.
Two men emerged from the woods behind Lucas.
“Behind you!” Journey yelled.
Lucas dropped down in a graceful lunge. A sword whistled over his head with barely an inch to spare. Lucas leaped toward the river, but two men moved to bar his way.
He struck out in a lightning thrust. One assassin fell into the river and was instantly carried away. Then the remaining three men attacked Lucas simultaneously. He spun, first parrying a sword cut to the head and then a thrust to the back, but the third man got through his guard. Lucas didn’t flinch or make a sound, but a wet dark stain appeared across the front of his tunic.
The remaining assassins closed in on him.
But Journey hadn’t been standing idle while Lucas fought. Even as she was watching the battle, terrified that he’d be killed on her behalf, she’d been prying at the loose stones of the waist-high guard wall of the bridge. The bridge was old, the mortar crumbling. Her nails broke and her fingers bled, but she finally managed to get one stone loose. It was a lump of granite as big as a brick.
Journey hurled the rock at the nearest enemy. It hit him square in the back, knocking him to his knees.
Then Lucas was left fighting the last two men. All three moved so fast that their swords were bright streaks in the air. She couldn’t tell if any of the attackers had been wounded; they all wore black. But another dark stain appeared on Lucas’s tunic, making Journey’s heart lurch. She couldn’t bear to take her eyes off the fight, as if he might be killed if she stopped watching over him. But as she watched, she felt around for another loose stone in the wall.
One of the enemies jumped back, then kicked sand into Lucas’s face. Lucas kept his guard up, but stumbled backward. While he was distracted, the man grabbed the enemy Journey had knocked down, dragging him to his feet, and fled into the woods with him. The rest of the assassins followed.
Journey listened to them retreating through the woods, leaves rustling and twigs snapping underfoot, until the sounds faded into the distance. Just like that, the assassins were gone. Lucas and Journey were alone.
Lucas turned to her. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice shook. “But you’re not!”
“Oh...” Lucas glanced down at himself. Blood was soaking through his tunic, but he seemed more embarrassed than concerned. “I’m out of practice. It’s been five years since I last fought with a sword.”
He swayed where he stood. Journey ran to him and caught him by the shoulders. “Sit down.”
“No—”
“Yes. You’re about to collapse.”
“I’m not.” He straightened, lifting his chin in a lordly manner. Then his gaze softened, and she saw the delicate skin of his throat bob as he swallowed. “I can’t. Not yet. I have to get you to safety first.”
Journey had seen his charm and sensuality at the ball, and his courage and protective fierceness in the battle. Now she caught a glimpse of his vulnerability. It made her heart squeeze painfully.
“How about we both get to safety, huh?” she suggested. “Let’s walk across the bridge. We can knock on someone’s door and call for an ambulance.”
He dug in his heels when she
tried to tug him toward the bridge. “Those men were after you. I have to stay with you to protect you.”
She couldn’t believe that the prince had not only saved her life, but seemed intent on appointing himself her personal bodyguard. Maybe he was trying to make up for upsetting her at the ball.
“Thank you, but the police can protect me.” Until I catch a flight back to America, she thought, but that hurt too much to say aloud. “And you need a doctor.”
Lucas reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. Journey drew in a breath. The warmth of his touch tingled through her whole body, and the intensity of his gaze caught her like a butterfly in amber.
“Journey, I know I’ve seemed to be a man without honor,” he said. “But you’ve seen for yourself that I’ll put my body between you and danger. Will you trust me to take you to a place where you’ll be safe?”
His chiseled features were white and taut with pain, his tunic wet and dark all down the front. Whatever else he’d done, he’d come close to death for her.
“Yes,” Journey replied. “I trust you.”
“This is not how I wanted to tell you,” he muttered. Then, with a resigned shrug, he said, “You know those local legends about the royal family turning into dragons?”
“Yes.”
“They’re true.” Lucas spoke as if he didn’t expect to be believed.
Journey didn’t doubt him for an instant. His voice held the unmistakable ring of truth. But more than that, it didn’t seem impossible that the golden-haired prince who had defended her against assassins was every bit as astonishing as he seemed. Of course he could turn into a dragon. Of course magic was real. She’d always wanted to believe that there was more to the world than simple known facts. On some level, she had always believed.
“I knew it!” Journey exclaimed.
Lucas’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You believe me?”
The entire town of Lummox, North Dakota would think she was a gullible idiot if they could hear her now. Journey didn’t care. “One hundred percent.”
His tension and weariness eased, and his sensual lips parted in a faint smile. Then he said the last thing she expected. “I have to wash my face.”