by Zoe Chant
“What about you?”
“I need to get myself to bed. I am very tired.”
Journey grabbed his wrist. “Lucas, you need to get yourself to a hospital. You told me dragonsbane is a poison!”
“I took the antidote.”
“Yeah? And how do you feel now?”
“Not good,” he admitted. “But I cannot have been given a fatal dose, or I would already be dead.”
Lucas knew there was some flaw in his logic that Grand Duke Vaclav would have immediately pounced on, had he been present. But he was having trouble focusing on anything but getting back to the palace, disposing of Duke Constantine, and making his mate less frightened. She had gone so pale that her freckles stood out like drops of blood.
“There are doctors at the palace,” he added belatedly.
That seemed to reassure her a little. “Okay, good. Let’s go to the palace.”
He thought of gold and flight and vengeance, and became a dragon. Journey climbed on his back, and he scooped up the duke in his talons. Then he took flight, barely skimming above the treetops, too tired to climb higher. Lucas didn’t make any special effort to ensure that the highest leaves and twigs smacked Duke Constantine across the face, but he didn’t make any special effort to avoid it, either.
After what felt like hours of weary flying, first the city and then the palace came into view. Lucas landed on the palace roof and dumped the duke unceremoniously to the ground. Then he became a man and yanked his prisoner to his feet.
Lucas marched Duke Constantine down the steps leading into the palace, Journey following beside him. To Lucas’s relief, the duke had apparently decided it was undignified to struggle and didn’t put up a fight.
The adrenaline rush had worn off, leaving Lucas dizzy and exhausted. His throat and chest and belly burned, his bones ached, and he felt chilled and feverish by turns. His heart kept stuttering off-rhythm. Breathing hurt. Swallowing hurt. Everything hurt. All he wanted to do was lie down. He’d feel better once he slept.
You just have to get through the next half hour or so, he told himself. That’s all. You can do it.
He didn’t feel like he could get through one more minute.
Both his hands were occupied with the duke, but Journey put a gentle hand on his back. “How are you feeling?”
Lucas jerked his head at Duke Constantine, trying to convey that he couldn’t confess to weakness in front of his enemy.
“Right.” Journey said no more, but kept her hand where it was. It was a small touch, but it comforted him. Her love and support gave him the strength to go on.
At the doors of the throne room, the guards stared at him, then the duke, then Journey, then back to him.
“Your highness...” A guard ventured at last. “Shall I summon a doctor?”
“Not now,” said Lucas. Speaking hurt, too. “I will see one later.”
“Yes,” said Journey. “Summon one right now! Tell the doctor he was forced to swallow dragonsbane.”
Lucas was touched by her concern. “Very well. Have the doctor wait outside the throne room. Also, please dispatch the police to Castle Abur. They will find four criminals tied up near the rubble. They should be arrested and held on charges of assault and kidnapping.”
“Rubble?” asked a guard.
Journey jumped in. “And tell the doctor he had a castle collapse on top of him! Though that was when he was a dragon.”
The guards stared.
“Open the doors,” Lucas commanded.
The guards obeyed. It was late in the day, most of the ordinary business done. No petitioners were present. The throne room was occupied only by King Andrei, Queen Livia, Grand Duke Vaclav, Princess Raluca, several of Lucas’s cousins, and a handful of courtiers and guards.
If Lucas had any lingering suspicions of his great-uncle, they were put to rest by Grand Duke Vaclav’s sincerely bewildered stare. Lucas scanned everyone else’s faces, just in case, but not one of them betrayed anything but surprise, confusion, and concern.
“Duke Constantine attempted to murder my mate,” Lucas began, then briefly recounted the entire story.
Everyone listened in shocked silence. But as soon as Lucas concluded, Duke Constantine drew himself up to his full height and blustered, “This is all a pack of lies. The prince has gone mad!”
Journey’s glare could have cut diamonds. “I saw the entire thing. Every word Lucas says is true.”
Duke Constantine shot her a contemptuous look that made Lucas want to slap him, then turned back to the onlookers. “Would you take the word of an American tourist against the word of a duke? But your majesties, Princess Raluca cannot marry a madman. Nor can a madman inherit the throne. Prince Lucas must be stripped of his title, and the marriage agreement and all its associated treaties must be transferred to your eldest son.”
Before Lucas could say a word, Raluca stood up and marched across the marble floor. She wore the traditional wooden heels, and every step was loud as a gunshot.
Raluca stopped in front of Duke Constantine. Each word rang out with cutting clarity, like shards of broken crystal. “You are a liar, a traitor, and a criminal. And I am not your property.”
“Of course you are not.” The duke spoke with a false kindness that made Lucas’s skin crawl. “But it is your duty as a dragon and a princess to marry to benefit your country.”
“I am tired of being used,” said Raluca. “I want to be more than a pawn in someone else’s game.”
“You are no pawn. Some day you will be a queen.” Duke Constantine’s tone was halfway between a promise and a threat.
Raluca stepped forward, encroaching on the duke’s personal space. Lucas noticed for the first time that she was taller than her uncle. “I am tired of being any sort of game piece. I wish to have a life of my own, independent of politics.”
Duke Constantine glared at her, puffing out his chest as if to make up for his lack of height. “Don’t be childish. Royalty can never be independent of politics.”
“I know.” Raluca held her ground, pale but defiant. “And that is why I renounce my title and my claim to the crown.”
“What! You can’t—”
“I do.” Raluca’s precise tones cut him off more effectively than if she’d shouted. Turning away from him, she said, “Lucas, we may not meet again, but I will always consider you my friend. Be well. I wish you the best of lives. King Andrei, Queen Livia, thank you for your kindness. Farewell.”
“What do you mean, farewell?” Duke Constantine demanded. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m free now.” Her face lit up with an amazed smile, as if she was marveling at her own reply. “I could go anywhere at all.”
She whirled around and ran for the balcony, her silver hair streaming behind her. Journey started forward with a gasp, but Lucas caught her arm.
“She’s a dragon,” he reminded her. “She doesn’t fall. She flies.”
Raluca threw herself over the railing. The woman dropped out of sight. A moment later, a silver dragon soared up. The sun gleamed on her wings as she flew upward and away, farther and farther into the blue until she became a glittering point like a daylight star. And then she was gone.
“She can’t do that!” Duke Constantine shouted belatedly.
Journey turned on him. “She just did, asshole. And good for her!”
Lucas wanted to laugh, but he’d suddenly gotten very dizzy. Black spots floated across his field of vision. He bit down hard on the inside of his mouth, hoping a small shock of pain would help him focus.
The spots faded, but the dizziness remained. The king and queen were conversing with each other, their voices too low for Lucas to catch the words, but their whispers sounded unnaturally shrill in his ears.
King Andrei snapped his fingers. “Guards! Take Duke Constantine to the dungeons.”
The guards hauled the duke away. He protested all the way, until the heavy doors closed behind him and cut off his voice.
; Lucas spoke hastily, while he still had a chance. Despite the burning pain in his throat, his voice rang out loud and clear. “King Andrei, Queen Livia, I too renounce my title. I renounce my claim to the throne in favor of whichever of your children you choose to name as your heir. From now on, my life and my love are my own.”
“You can’t do that!” Grand Duke Vaclav shouted.
He sounded so exactly like Duke Constantine that Lucas did laugh. That was his downfall. The room began to spin around him, going faster and faster until he lost his footing.
“Look to the prince!” a voice called out.
The next thing he knew, someone was trying to pour liquid into his mouth. Lucas lashed out, but a hard grip caught his hand. He struggled, jerking his head to the side and clenching his jaws.
Soft hands stroked his hair. “Lucas, it’s all right. It’s medicine— it won’t hurt you.”
His vision cleared. He was lying on the floor of the throne room with his head in Journey’s lap. One of the royal doctors was attending to him. The guards and courtiers were gone, but the royal family sat in a semi-circle around him. Grand Duke Vaclav had an iron grip on his wrist.
Lucas wrenched his arm free. “Don’t touch me.”
“I was only trying to help,” his great-uncle said stiffly.
“I don’t want your help.” Lucas took a deep breath, then another, willing himself to calm. His mind cleared, allowing him to focus on the doctor. “I will take the medicine now.”
The doctor shot Lucas a nervous glance. Lucas couldn’t blame him. If Grand Duke Vaclav hadn’t stopped him, Lucas probably would have punched the doctor in the face.
“Here, give it to me.” Journey took the cup from the doctor’s hands, lifted Lucas’s head, and held it to his lips.
He swallowed the medicine. The familiar tang reassured him. It was heartsease, but a far larger dose than he’d ever taken before.
“We will speak again when you are well,” said Grand Duke Vaclav. There was an ominous note in his voice.
“We will not,” replied Lucas.
With a flash of anger, his great-uncle said, “You have no idea what I wish to say to you!”
“Even now, you are trying to bully me while I’m lying here ill,” Lucas pointed out. “You have had my entire life to speak to me. I know what sort of words you have to say, and I do not wish to hear them. I am not giving you an order as your prince. I am telling you, man-to-man, to go away.”
His great-uncle stared at him. Lucas met his cold gaze without flinching. Then Grand Duke Vaclav stood up and walked away without another word. The heavy doors of the throne room closed behind him with a very final-sounding thud.
“Good for you.” Journey spoke for his ears only.
Despite the heartsease, dizziness again closed in on him. Lucas had hoped to finish his business, walk to his room, and then collapse, but he resigned himself to being carried out on a stretcher.
“Journey is my mate,” he said, hoping his voice would be heard. “Extend her every courtesy.”
Queen Livia squeezed his hand. “Of course we will. Lucas, please relax. Nothing will harm her or you.”
“I can give a grand duke orders,” King Andrei added. “Vaclav will be going on a restful vacation in the countryside until you return to America. You will not see him again.”
Lucas did relax upon hearing those promises. The last thing he felt was the gentle touch of Journey’s fingers in his hair.
Chapter Eleven
Journey
Lucas was carried to his bedroom on a stretcher. The doctor, the king and queen, and Journey followed, and stayed after the stretcher-bearers were dismissed. Lucas lay unconscious in his canopied bed, his face white as his pillow. Even after he’d taken the heartsease, he was cold to the touch. His breathing was barely perceptible.
Journey stood by the bed, her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Lucas couldn’t die now, after enduring so much. He couldn’t.
She was terrified that he would.
Journey was not reassured when the doctor pulled an ancient, witchy-looking book out of his bag and consulted it, muttering that there hadn’t been a case of dragonsbane poisoning in a hundred years. Then he woke Lucas.
“How much dragonsbane did you swallow?” asked the doctor.
It took Lucas a moment to answer. He seemed to find it difficult to speak. “Two or three...”
“Two or three drops?” the doctor asked, looking relieved. “Good. I had worried that it was more. You will be better in a few—”
“Two or three spoonfuls,” Lucas corrected him. “Five times.”
Terror washed over Journey at the expression on the doctor’s face. Finally, he said, “Are you certain?”
Lucas nodded.
The doctor stared at him, then turned away and picked up the witchy book again. While he was consulting it, the king stepped forward.
“I shall pour the same dose down Constantine’s throat,” said King Andrei.
Lucas shook his head.
“Andrei, no,” said Queen Livia. “That has been banned in Brandusa for a hundred years. It would be dishonorable to break our own laws for the sake of personal vengeance. Let us use only a touch of dragonsbane on his skin, just enough to keep him from shifting. And let us imprison him for life in our darkest, deepest cell, so he may never again know the freedom of the skies.”
The king looked at Lucas. “Would that content you?”
Lucas nodded.
“Very well. He may suffer more from that in the long run.” King Andrei sounded as if he hoped the duke would.
The doctor closed the book and poured out another cup of heartsease, looked at Lucas, then handed it to Journey.
“I am not going to strike you,” Lucas said to the doctor, with the faintest touch of exasperation.
Journey sat on the edge of the bed and held the cup to his lips. Lucas drank, then closed his eyes. Silence fell. She touched his cheek, but he didn’t stir. Despite the roaring fire in the hearth and the blankets piled over him, he was still very cold.
“Will he be all right?” Journey blurted out. She’d been biting her lip before, too afraid to ask.
“It’s hopeful that he’s lived this long,” replied the doctor evasively. “He is very strong, or he would have died in the dungeon.”
“He is a dragon,” added the king. “We are hard to kill.”
Lucas’s eyes fluttered open, and he took Journey’s hand in icy fingers. “I won’t leave you, Journey. I swear it on my honor.”
She blinked back tears as she said, “I’ll hold you to that.”
The king and queen kept the promise they had made in the throne room. They treated Journey with courtesy, never questioned her relationship with Lucas, and had a smaller bed moved into his room so she could stay by his side.
The doctor came several times a day, each time consulting his witchy book as if he hoped something new had been written in it when he wasn’t looking. When Journey peeked over his shoulder, she read what she had already guessed: the dose Lucas had been given should have killed him outright, and heartsease was the only real treatment.
Other than that, it said that patients should be kept warm and well-nourished. If they survived long enough, the dragonsbane would eventually work its way out of their bodies. It concluded by saying that most victims of small doses lived and most victims of large doses died. After she read that part, Journey wished she hadn’t looked.
The poison affected Lucas’s throat, making him unable to swallow any solid food. Though the palace cooks provided everything from broth to milkshakes, he lost weight at an alarming rate. And though he never complained when he was awake, he often cried out in pain in his sleep.
Sometimes Lucas was weak but clear-headed. He couldn’t speak easily, so Journey would sit by his side and tell him stories about her travels. Sometimes he slipped into delirium, shouting hoarsely that he’d been shot and calling on his friends at Protection, Inc. for backup. Journey was sure tha
t if he was in his right mind, he wouldn’t want her to tell him any lies, however comforting. But she had to say something. She settled on telling him that his friends would do whatever they could to help him. That had to be true, and he always relaxed when he heard it.
Journey too did whatever she could to help him, talking to him, rubbing his back, stroking his hair, and holding him in her arms. When he was dazed or delirious, he wouldn’t allow anyone but her to give him anything to drink. It made her wonder how deeply he’d been scarred, entirely apart from the physical damage, by his time in the dungeon. She felt utterly helpless. But her touch seemed to comfort him, and he knew her even when he recognized no one else.
King Andrei and Queen Livia visited Lucas often. Journey suspected them of feeling guilty over sticking him with the arranged marriage and letting Grand Duke Vaclav bully him when he was a boy, but she said nothing about that. They were certainly kind to him now.
Better late than never, she thought.
Once when Lucas was having a bad night, tossing to and fro and muttering that he was burning and freezing, Queen Livia left, then returned with a gold nugget as big as her open hand.
“From my own hoard,” she said to Journey, as if that was an explanation.
The queen pressed it into his hand. Lucas clutched it to his chest, then curled into it, relaxed, and went to sleep.
“I’ll have to let him keep it now.” The queen sounded as if she regretted it already. “It’s difficult— painful, even— for dragons to give up gold once they’ve slept on it.”
Definitely guilty, Journey thought. But it fascinated her to learn more about dragons. She realized now why the doctor had only pushed Lucas’s jewelry around when he’d cleaned his wounds, rather than attempting to remove it.
“I’ve noticed that you don’t wear jewelry,” Queen Livia remarked. “I hope you don’t dislike it. He’ll want to give you some once he’s better.”
“I love jewelry,” Journey replied. “I’ve just never been able to afford the good stuff, and I don’t like plastic.”