by Kayla Wolf
”People were talking about us in a bar?” She looked a little worried about that. It was to be expected, he supposed. If they were isolationists up here, it would make sense to be worried about how word had gotten out. Best to change the subject.
”Is it okay that I’m here?”
”Of course!” She smiled at him, hurrying to reassure him. “Not that it’s really my call—I mean, I’ve lived here for five years, but it’s not like I’m in charge or anything. But I know the King really well. My older sister’s married to his brother. He’d have no problem with you being here. He wants us to make more connections to people from outside.”
A beautiful young woman with ties to the royal family. Owen hid the grin of triumph that wanted to break out across his face. Within an hour of his arrival, he’d found the princess that Violet wanted to be kidnapped. And she was an easy mark, too. Sweet, and too kind for her own good. Unfortunate, really. Where was that feeling coming from, he wondered, hiding a frown. That had almost felt like… guilt.
“It’s beautiful here,” he said softly, trying to stall a little, make light conversation.
“Oh, yeah. I grew up not far from here. A village maybe a day’s run away. Freezing cold in the winter, though.”
”Oh yeah? Does it snow?”
“Does it snow! You really are from California,” she laughed, her eyes crinkling up. What a pretty sound.
”I’ve never seen snow.” He was warming to this character he was playing. A little simple, but gentle and genuine. Hopefully, someone Angela would like enough to take home to introduce to her family.
”Well, if you stay here you’ll be sick of it in a week, I promise,” she laughed.
”Stay?”
”I mean, I don’t see why not. Not that I’ve got any say, but … we’ve got heaps of free space. There are hundreds of rooms in the palace alone that are unused, plus a bunch more families living in the valley who probably have a spare room, too. You can talk to Alexander. He’s the King.”
”Yeah? He’d be willing to meet with some stranger?”
”Definitely! I’ll take you to meet him now if you like.” She laughed, shutting her book and gathering both of them to her chest. When she rose to her feet, it was with surprising grace. She was athletic. Wolves tended to be, of course, but for such a bookish girl, she moved quickly. He followed, a little slower, wanting to emphasize that laid-back, quiet character he’d started trying to inhabit. “I mean, if Helena can bring home a bear, I don’t see why I can’t bring home another dragon. Are all of your family’s eyes like that?”
He blinked, affecting self-consciousness as they began to walk up the steep slope of the valley together. She was only a slight woman—he dwarfed her in height, her head only coming up to his mid-chest, and he deliberately hung back from her, not wanting her to feel too overpowered by him physically. “Yeah. Kind of an inheritance, I guess.”
”It’s cool! I know all wolves’ eyes are the same color, regardless of pack or family or whatever, so it’s cool that you guys have that special family thing. Is it a nice reminder of them?”
No need to get too dark. His first instinct was to say that every time he looked in a mirror, his eyes reminded him of everything he’d lost, but that was a bit too grim. He didn’t want to upset her. Even if it was true—true for him, true for the character he was playing. Bad road to go down when he was trying to work. “Yeah. It’s good to have them with me, even though they’re gone.”
”Alexander’s family all have these amazing golden eyes. You’ll meet them soon.”
”Gold and silver. That’s nice.”
”Yeah, I guess so.” She shuffled the books she was holding around in her arms, and he craned his neck, unable to make out the titles.
”You were very absorbed in those books,” he said casually. It couldn’t hurt to make conversation—but he didn’t want to come off too interested in what was in the book in case it was some kind of secret. She’d been surprisingly perceptive when he’d tried to bluff about having come upon the valley by accident. She’d bought the rest of his story, but he should keep sharp. Wolves were observant, he knew that. “What were you reading? Romance novels?”
She spluttered laughter, her bright eyes meeting his and a blush appearing in her cheeks, two points of color in her pale face. “That’s seriously your first guess?”
”I don’t know!” He couldn’t help but laugh along with her. “I don’t read much.”
”You see a woman alone reading a book, and you just assume it must be a romance novel?”
He raised his hands in the universal gesture of defeat. “I’m sorry! It was just a guess!”
”It’s a book about magic, I’ll have you know,” she said primly, “and it’s in ancient Draconic, and it’s extremely slow going.”
”Sounds like fun.” A connection formed in Owen’s head. “Oh! Is that what that second book is? A translator?”
”My notes, yeah. It’s still pretty rough. I’m only fifty percent sure I know the first thing about what they’re talking about,” she admitted, frowning down at the book in her hands.
”Draconic’s not easy,” Owen said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing pretty well to read it at all, honestly.” He wasn’t lying. The language was notoriously thorny and difficult to navigate—comparable to Latin for humans, or so the humans he’d known had said. He’d studied it in his youth, at the College. And before that, a little, too, thought he didn’t like to think about that.
”That’s what Stephen says,” she sighed, “but I still feel pretty dumb when I try.”
She definitely wasn’t dumb, he knew that much already. But he left that alone. Didn’t want to make it seem like he was trying to flatter her. “Stephen’s the dragon who’s teaching you Draconic?”
”Yeah. Is that weird?”
”It’s a bit unusual,” he admitted. As far as he knew, that was true. He’d never heard of a dragon outside of the College trying to teach a shifter of another species how to speak their ancient language… but he’d also never heard of anyone being particularly interested in learning it. Stuffy, terrible old language that nobody remembered how to speak. The College taught all its recruits how to read it, regardless of species, but nothing the College did fitted anyone’s definition of ‘normal.’ “Dragons can be a secretive bunch.”
”So I hear. I mean, these guys have been hiding from everyone else for centuries. Cloistered away in their little valley, letting the world go by…”
”So how did you get here?”
”My sister brought me,” she admitted, with a little smile that suggested she might find that fact a little bit embarrassing. “She ran away from home, met Samuel, fell in love—then came back home to rescue me, basically.”
”Rescue you?”
”Bad pack politics,” she said dismissively. “My father wanted Jessica to marry the Alpha, she didn’t want to, they tried to force her… it was a whole horrible thing. But she got me out of there. And now I live here.”
”And she—”
”Married the King’s brother, Samuel, yeah. I think that’s a big part of why they’re kind of … trying to be less isolated, these days.” She was chatting away happily as they climbed up the hill. Idly, he wondered if anything she was telling him was meant to be private. Always hard to tell, with this kind of conversation. He’d get a better sense of it once they were inside the palace, once he’d met the royal family and started figuring out the lay of the land. For now, he was going to listen as neutrally as he could, and try not to seem too interested in any part of it. That way, even if she made a mistake and told him something she shouldn’t, she wouldn’t panic about it. It was definitely an unconventional-sounding royal family, that was for sure… an adopted wolf princess? And a bear in the mix? Very strange.
”It’s hard to be locked away from the rest of the world,” he contributed, figuring she’d feel more at ease if he told her more about his own so-called ‘family.’ The key was to remem
ber whatever he said to keep his story consistent. “We were on good terms with all the local shifters. Even had little meet-ups once a year or so, just to keep in touch.”
”There was a Festival up north about three years ago that was meant to be about that,” Angela said darkly. “It ended with my sister-in-law Helena nearly getting kidnapped. So it’s a slow process, reaching out to other people. But it must be working, if you heard about us in a bar.”
”I guess so. That sounds awful, though. I’m sorry. Is your sister-in-law okay?”
”Oh, she’s fine. She kicked their asses and met her soulmate in the process.”
There was a word he hadn’t heard in a long time. It sent unpleasant ripples up and down his spine, and he felt a tingle of concern. How should he respond to that? His gut instinct was to call it a stupid old superstition, but the way she’d spoken the word suggested that she really believed in the concept. And why wouldn’t she? Almost every shifter did—every one he’d ever met, anyway. The College didn’t address it. Love and romance weren’t of any relevance to the work they did, so they said nothing about it. He’d talked to Tarik about it, once. The old wolf had looked at him with such scorn in his misty silver eyes that he’d sworn never to bring it up again.
Maybe soulmates were real. But if they were, Owen reckoned that some people just didn’t have one. People like him, for example. Was he really expected to believe that his life of hunting and killing was destined to be interjected one day by some woman who he was destined to be with? What would he do, bring her along on his missions with him? Let her share his single bed at the College? Not likely.
“Owen? You okay?”
He realized he’d been silent for far longer than was polite, and he shook himself hard, furious to have lost composure, broken character even for a minute. She was looking at him with sympathy in those big silver eyes, though, not suspicion. He heaved a dramatic sigh. Should he spin some tale about losing his soulmate in the attacks? No. Too big a challenge to lie about loving someone like that when he’d never loved anyone in his life. Besides—he didn’t want to hurt this girl any more than he had to. He already felt a little bit strange about lying to her. It was just that he hadn’t worked in a while, he thought irritably, that was all. He was off his game. He’d get back into the swing of things soon.
”Sorry. Just haven’t done much walking in this body lately.” A simple explanation—and it was true, too. Angela seemed satisfied with that.
”Well, we’re here. It’s cooler inside.”
And she led him through a passageway, hidden behind a rock, into the bowels of the mountain itself.
Chapter 4
Angela could hardly believe what was happening. After years of living in relative seclusion, of hardly ever meeting anyone outside their immediate family, she’d suddenly stumbled upon a complete and utter stranger in the woods. And she was absolutely fascinated by him! It must have had something to do with how long it had been since she’d met someone new, she thought to herself as they walked together through the forest, heading back to the palace. But she was fighting the urge to ask him question after question about himself. Everything about him was so interesting. Those fascinating black eyes, so deep and mysterious, his rather tragic history, the course of events that had brought him to the valley… she wanted to know everything about him. For someone like Angela, who had grown up in a tiny town where she’d known everyone, then moved to an even tinier settlement where she’d almost immediately met, then gotten to know, everyone, meeting a stranger like this was a rare treat.
Had it been a little forward of her to just invite him back to the palace like she had? She’d hardly even given the matter any thought—just jumped to invite him home with her. Jessica would have told her off, probably. Jessica was so guarded about other people. Still jumping at shadows, even after all these years—she was a protective woman. If she’d been there when Owen had come wandering out of the forest, things would have definitely gone differently. But she hadn’t been there, Angela thought smugly. This new visitor was all hers to talk to.
She wound up talking way more than she’d intended to. She was worried about talking his ear off—but it felt so good to talk to someone who didn’t already know all her stories! She told him about her old home, and her new family, about Samuel and Alexander and Stephen, a little about her sister… but the whole time she was itching to know more about him. But she didn’t want to pry, to interrogate him about a past that was clearly very painful. He’d have a lot in common with Art, she thought to herself. Maybe she’d talk to Helena a little later about how much she could ask Owen about his family—get some advice on how to talk to people who’d been through such a huge loss. She wanted him to know that she was sympathetic, that she wanted to help him heal if she could.
God, he must think she was so silly, she thought irritably as they trekked through the forest towards the mountain. She was nearly twenty-five, but most of the time she still felt like a silly little girl. All her friends were older than her—even the ones who weren’t dragons, like Art and Lisa, were in their thirties now, married, dealing with a totally different part of their lives than she was. And the dragons were a completely different ball game. They didn’t talk about it much, but she knew from her reading—and from carefully collecting and remembering offhand comments—that the dragons of the valley were more likely to measure their ages in centuries than decades. Alexander, Helena, and Samuel were a little younger than the majority of the inhabitants of the settlement—she knew that from the disparaging comments made by some of the elder dragons of the valley—but still, they were vastly older and wiser than she was.
Well, not really wiser, she thought with a grin. For all their age, they could be incredibly short-sighted about some things. Age made you complacent, made you convinced you knew everything already and there was nothing left to learn. For a young wolf like her, there was still so much left to explore, so many mysteries left to examine… and in a way, that made her sharper, smarter, cleverer than them. She suspected that was why Stephen liked having her as a research assistant. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d said something that she thought was obvious, or even a stupid question—and seen his golden eyes gleam with a realization he’d never have come to on her own. Maybe Owen would like that about her, too. She’d certainly made him laugh a couple of times already. That felt good. That felt like a victory. She’d always loved people who made her laugh—that was part of why she liked spending time with Stephen so much. The old dragon was very funny when he wanted to be. And she wanted Owen to like her.
She wanted to ask him how old he was, but she knew from experience that dragons tended to be evasive about exact numerical ages, so she settled for letting him tell her what he wanted to tell her. But it was such an effort—she so badly wanted to interrogate him. She almost regretted setting out towards the palace straight away like they had. He might’ve been happy to just stay on that rock with her for a little while longer, just talking. She liked being alone with him. The idea of bringing him to the palace, introducing him around to everyone… what if he never talked to her again? What if he was more interested in being friends with the dragons, or with Art? He’d have much more in common with all of them, after all. Even Lisa and Jessica were older than her and probably had more interesting stories to tell a dragon. Lisa was a human—she’d probably know all about the place he was from, and not just from television like Angela did. Angela fought down the crushing sense of sadness in her chest. The stupid idea of leading him on a wild goose chase through the valley occurred to her—and it was oddly tempting. She could just walk past the concealed entrance to the palace, led him right up the river to the peak of the mountain… it was bizarrely tempting. The only thing that stopped her was thinking how stupid he would think she was if she couldn’t even find her own home.
He’d fallen silent, and she glanced at him over her shoulder, worried that she found him boring. They were within a few paces of the e
ntrance, and she checked in to make sure he was okay, resisting the urge to pry. There was something about the way he smiled… something so distant about it. As though most of his mind was focused on something else. It occurred to her, briefly, that she knew almost nothing about this man… this incredibly tall, strong man who’d just appeared out of the forest to her, telling her a not-completely-true story about coming upon the settlement by chance. Should she have been a little more suspicious, exercised a bit more restraint? After all, he was a strange dragon, and the last run-in the settlement had had with strange dragons had almost ended in a terrible tragedy. Helena didn’t talk much about what had happened there, but Angela knew enough to know that it had been pretty awful. The dragons who’d kidnapped her had been the worst kinds of people. What reassurance did she have that this dragon wasn’t exactly the same?
Just her instinct, she thought simply, looking up at him as he smiled that distant smile. Just the gut instinct, deep inside her, that said that he was a good man. It said a little more than that, too, she had to admit to herself—it said that he was handsome and fascinating, and so tall and strong… the way he’d caught her wrist as she toppled backwards towards the river, saved her from falling... she could still feel the warmth of his powerful hand around her wrist, so strong and yet so controlled, so gentle. It would have been so easy for him to crush her whole hand in his, but he’d used just enough force to catch her without hurting her. That wasn’t the kind of thing some evil kidnapper would do.