by Jasmine Walt
Dareena bit back a laugh at Cyra’s admonishing frown, but the smile on her face quickly faded at the sight of the king. He sat on a throne on the far side of the ballroom, surrounded by a gaggle of nobles vying for attention. Even seated, he was clearly a big man, with powerful muscles beneath his finery, and cruelly handsome features. His amber eyes lazily assessed the Chosen as they filtered into the crowd, and though Dareena half expected him to call them forward, he did not.
“You may mingle for now,” Lady Maude said in a low voice, “until the king calls for you. Conduct yourself in a proper manner at all times, and do not do anything to embarrass me.”
Dareena nodded absently, barely listening—she’d finally spotted Drystan halfway across the room, looking just as devastatingly handsome in another suit. Two other men, equally good-looking, stood with him. His brothers, Dareena realized with a jolt of excitement. One was a redhead with wickedly handsome features, a bit leaner and taller than Drystan. The other was a blond with long hair and dreamy eyes, a bit shorter than his brothers and with a stocky build. The three of them had their heads bowed together, and they looked like they were arguing.
“Ooh,” Mira whispered. “They’re even more handsome than I’d imagined.”
“They are,” Cyra agreed wholeheartedly, her gaze bright. Dareena felt a surge of possessiveness, which made no sense whatsoever—she didn’t know the brothers, and aside from Drystan, had never met them. “I fancy the black-haired one, I think. What about you, Mira?”
“The redhead,” Mira said with a breathy sigh, a wistful look on her face. “Do you think he’ll ask me to dance?”
“No,” Cyra said, an amused look on her face. “I think he’s about to ask someone else.”
They all whipped their heads around at the same time, and Dareena’s breath caught in her throat. The redhead had broken away from his brothers and was striding straight toward…toward…
“Good evening, my lady,” he said in a deep, almost melodious voice, his amber eyes twinkling with mischief. He took Dareena’s hand and bowed over it, brushing a kiss over her knuckles that sent a frisson of energy through her. “My name is Lucyan Dragonas. May I have this dance?”
11
“Dance?” Dareena stared at him with wide, emerald eyes. “With me?”
Lucyan grinned. She was such a delightful little thing, that round, innocent gaze completely at odds with the lush, decadent figure showcased by the gorgeous garnet dress she wore. “Should I be asking someone else?” he purred, looking around the room. “I suppose there are others I could settle for—”
“‘Settle’ being the operative word,” Dareena said, surprising him. She moved closer, her shocked expression quickly morphing into a confident smile. “You were right to snatch me up quickly, before someone else did.”
Lucyan laughed, taking her into his arms and guiding her onto the dance floor. “You play the game well,” he said as he led her into a simple but lively step. “I see why my sister took an interest in you.”
“Oh?” Dareena’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t realize you knew about that.”
“Our father worked himself up in a tizzy when he found out,” Lucyan said as he thought back to that dinner. A flash of unease went through him as he remembered the conversation they’d had with Tariana afterward, but he covered it up with a smile. “Thankfully, she is our father’s favorite, so he overlooked it and allowed you to stay. Which I am quite grateful for, or I would never have had this opportunity to dance with you.”
“As am I,” Dareena said, inclining her head. Her green gaze swept around the room. “Your brothers don’t seem too happy to see you dancing with me,” she remarked.
This time Lucyan’s grin was genuine. “They’re just annoyed that I got to you first,” he said, winking at Alistair, who had chosen to dance with a redhead in a pale blue gown. “While they were busy arguing amongst themselves about whether to ask you to dance, I decided to take action.”
“Surely you jest,” Dareena said. “There is no reason for the three of you to argue over me when there are so many other lovely young women to choose from.”
“That may be so,” Lucyan said, “but you are the only one in the room who truly stands out, and you are somewhat infamous because of the reason our sister chose you. It’s only natural that we would fight over you, especially since this is our only chance to get to know you.”
Dareena’s bright eyes dulled at that. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I will be going home tomorrow, won’t I?”
Lucyan winced inwardly. He could have kicked himself. What was he thinking, saying such a thing like that on what had to be the most wonderful night of her life?
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said quickly. “You could be the Dragon’s Gift, and even if you’re not, you don’t have to go back. Unless you have someone waiting for you?”
Dareena hesitated. “I do have a few friends back home,” she said, “but my former employer wants nothing to do with me, and the lord’s daughter has determined to make my life miserable since I was Chosen in her stead.”
“Well, we can’t have that,” Lucyan said. “If going home is not an option for you, I am more than happy to help you relocate. There is no reason for you to suffer just because your life was uprooted due to a royal decree.”
Dareena’s mouth dropped open. “You would really do that for me?”
“Of course,” he said, pulling her a little closer. Gods, those curves felt divine beneath his hands, and the way she smiled up at him—it was like someone had filled his veins with pure sunshine. “If I had my way,” he growled, leaning in to take a deep whiff of her scent, “I would take you for my mate right now and plant many dragon-born babies in your belly. These child-bearing hips were clearly made for just that,” he added, gently squeezing said hip as he spoke.
Dareena’s cheeks flushed, and Lucyan’s blood stirred as he scented her desire. Oh, how he wished he could whisk her out of the ballroom right now so he could lift up those skirts and see what lay beneath. Some women did not look as good with their clothes off—their carefully arranged outfits made their waists look smaller, their busts bigger—but Lucyan had no doubt that Dareena would look even better out of that dress.
“Alas,” he continued, half-speaking to himself rather than her, “a prince is not free to choose whom he pledges himself to. We are bound to the king as much as anyone else—perhaps even more so. But just because my fate isn’t your own does not mean I cannot help you with yours.”
The dance came to an end, and Lucyan finally released her. “Good evening, my lady,” he said, bowing over her hand once more. He brushed his lips across her soft skin, then quickly strode away, leaving her to stare after him. He didn’t know what had gotten into him—Lucyan considered women playthings, and had never been bewitched by one. But this one was working quite a spell on him, making him want to take care of her when he’d never done so for a woman before. He’d best put some distance between them before he gave in to the temptation to take her back to his rooms and make her scream his name.
12
“I can’t believe it,” Cyra whispered as everyone sat for dinner. “You actually got to dance with one of the princes!”
“I can hardly believe it myself,” Dareena murmured, still in shock. She was vaguely aware of the other girls whispering, many of them shooting dirty looks at her. But all she could think about was the way Lucyan’s hands had felt on her, and the wicked twinkle in his eyes as he’d teased her. Gods, he was even more handsome up close, with that dark red hair and sinful mouth that had practically begged her to lean up and kiss him.
“What was he saying to you?” Mira asked as the food was served. “It looked like you two were having quite the conversation.”
Dareena smirked. “He told me that if he had his way, he would take me for his mate and breed many dragon-born babies with me.” A small shiver ran down her spine as she remembered how his hand had drifted to her hips. “Child-bearing,�
� he’d called them. A blush heated her cheeks—she should have been insulted, she knew, that he was talking of her as though she were a broodmare instead of a person. But all she could think of was what it might be like to bed him. He exuded pure, carnal masculinity. The wicked curve of his mouth, the gleam in his amber eyes, and the way he touched her as if he was all too familiar with a woman’s body told Dareena he would be an excellent lover. But more than that, he’d actually seemed to care about her. His offer to help her relocate after tonight had been unexpected, and quite touching. She wondered if the other brothers would have done the same had she told them about her situation.
“Dragon born?” Cyra frowned, glancing up at the high table where the royal family sat. Drystan and Tariana seemed to be in conversation with their father, and Dareena felt a hint of disappointment—she had hoped Tariana would come and speak to her, but she hadn’t seen the huntress since arriving at the Keep. “Does that mean he isn’t the heir?”
“Oooh,” Mira said, practically licking her lips as she stared up at Lucyan. “Maybe that means I’ve got a chance at snagging him.”
“Unlikely,” Dareena said as another surge of possessiveness filled her. “He did ask to dance with me, not you.”
“I was just joking,” Mira said, sounding a little hurt. “There’s no need to be catty.”
Dareena flinched, feeling incredibly guilty. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Really, what was her problem? This was the second time something like this had happened tonight. She had no more claim on the princes than any of the women here.
But then again, Lucyan had said he wanted to make babies with her…
He probably says that to every woman, Dareena scolded herself. Don’t allow yourself to get carried away by a pretty face.
“It’s a big night,” Cyra said softly. “We’re all under a bit of stress since most of us will be going home soon. Why don’t we enjoy the food and drink while we still can?”
They all agreed to do just that, and spent the rest of the meal talking and laughing and comparing notes about the princes and all the experiences they’d had during their stay so far. Dareena was determined not to think about the ritual, which was coming all too soon—she knew she wasn’t going to get picked, and as soon as the ritual was over, their time here at Dragon’s Keep would come to an end. They would all pack up their belongings, and Dareena would have to figure out where she would go from here.
But alas, the meal could not go on forever, and soon enough, the king called for silence. “My lords and ladies,” he boomed, his voice gravelly and full of leashed power. “It is time for the Selection Ritual, our holiest of events. Tonight, the Chosen will drink from the Cup of Dragons, and if the gods smile down upon us tonight, the Dragon’s Gift will be revealed.”
A reverent hush filled the room as the oracle, an old man in orange and white robes with silver hair and eerie blue eyes, emerged from the shadows flanked by Tariana and one of her sisters—Solara, she thought her name was. Dareena had noticed their disappearance from the high table at some point, and now she saw why. In his gnarled hands, the oracle held a giant golden goblet with dragons carved in relief along the sides. They approached slowly, the sisters humming a strange song that sent shivers racing across Dareena’s skin. Their faces were solemn, their steps measured, and all eyes were on them as they approached Nalia, the gorgeous redhead who sat at the head of the table.
“Take this cup from us now, given freely in goodwill,” the oracle intoned. “Drink from it, then pass it to your sister, to share in this holy wine.”
Nalia gingerly took the heavy goblet, then brought it to her lips and took a small sip. The Chosen had been coached not to take too much—only a few drops needed to hit the tongue, and there needed to be enough for every girl. Everyone waited with bated breath to see if anything would happen, but when Nalia lowered the goblet, she was untouched by the golden glow that was said to illuminate all Dragon’s Gifts who drank from the cup.
“Pass the cup on to the next woman, Chosen,” the oracle said in a soft voice.
Nalia’s knuckles whitened as they gripped the goblet a bit tighter, almost as if she thought if she held on a bit longer, the glow might finally appear. But after a second, she passed it on to the next person.
The minutes passed in excruciating slowness as each Chosen took a drink from the goblet, then handed it to the next. The girls did their best to hide their disappointment, but it was evident in the tightness around their mouths, and Dareena even glimpsed tears in a few of their eyes. Many of them were strung tight as a bow, including Cyra, who watched in avid anticipation as the goblet gradually came closer and closer.
Dareena, however, felt no such tension. She already knew she wasn’t going to be Chosen and had made her peace with that. All she felt was a bit of sadness that this grand adventure was over so soon. She hoped that before she left, she would get to meet Alistair…it would be a shame to return home without having met all three brothers.
But then again, going home would also be a kind of relief. No longer would she have to watch what she said and whom she said it to, or suffer the constant presence of the noblewomen training them. Back in Hallowdale, she had spent most of her time working hard, but at least the few hours she did have could be spent as she liked, and she wasn’t restricted from going wherever she pleased. Besides, now that she had been Chosen, her marriage prospects had increased drastically. Noblemen would eye her as a prize, since she was considered blessed by the dragons.
Even if her presence here had just been part of some silly game Tariana was playing.
“Dareena,” Cyra hissed. “Take the goblet!”
Dareena jolted, and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as Cyra held the goblet to her. She hadn’t even been watching when her friend took her drink!
“Sorry,” she muttered, carefully taking the goblet. The metal was warm to the touch and sent tingles through her arms. Was that normal?
It’s just nerves, Dareena told herself as she brought the goblet to her lips. Just take a drink and be done with it.
Closing her eyes, Dareena let a small mouthful of the spiced wine flow over her tongue. As it did, a pleasant warmth spread through her limbs, slowly at first, and then faster as she instinctively drank more. She heard gasps from the crowd and hastily tore the cup away from her lips—she’d drunk far too much.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, then turned to hand the cup to Mira.
But Mira had her hands up, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping. “Dareena,” she whispered. “Look at your hands.”
Dareena looked, then nearly dropped the cup. Her hands glowed with a golden, ethereal light. No, not just her hands, she realized. That same light was pouring through the fabric of her dress, wrapping her entire body in incandescence.
“It is decided,” the oracle said. Dareena looked up at him, and over his shoulder she caught the briefest flash of smug satisfaction in Tariana’s amber eyes. “Dareena Sellis, the gods have blessed you. You are the Dragon’s Gift.”
13
Drystan stared at Dareena from across the room, struggling to keep his mouth from dropping open in shock. She looked just as stunned as he, and from the utter silence that had descended upon the room, it was obvious that everyone else felt the same.
As the silence stretched on, Dareena’s cheeks pinkened with embarrassment. Her stunning eyes darted around, then spotted him. Drystan felt a wave of sympathy for her—he doubted she ever expected to be the subject of this much royal attention in her life, and now that she’d been chosen for the highest honor amongst their women, the place had fallen as silent as a graveyard.
Thankfully, the silence was broken by the king. He began a slow clap, his predatory gaze fixed on Dareena, and a moment later, the rest of the room broke into applause and cheers. Lucyan and Alistair raised their glasses to Dareena, and Drystan did the same, but his attention was still fixed on his father. He didn’t like the way the king wa
s looking at Dareena—as if she were a prize that he had won rather than a gift from the gods.
“Congratulations, my dear,” he said grandly, rising from his seat. “Please, come forward.”
Dareena slowly approached the high table, flanked by Tariana and Solara, their two oldest sisters. The oracle was right behind her, and while he’d looked stunned at first, his serene mask was back in place. Tariana’s expression was blank, but Drystan thought he saw her eyes narrow slightly as the king took Dareena’s slender hands in his own.
“The gods have blessed us with your beauty and grace,” he declared. “Oracle, the necklace?”
“Right here, Sire.” The oracle produced a velvet pouch from his belt. A lump formed in Drystan’s throat when he pulled out a gold choker crafted into the shape of a dragon—the same choker his mother had worn.
“This necklace has been passed down over the centuries,” the king said as he fastened the choker around Dareena’s neck. It looked stunning around the smooth column of her throat, where the king’s fingers lingered for a second too long for Drystan’s comfort. “It was worn by Xandara, the first Dragon’s Gift, and you will proudly wear it now.”
“Thank you,” Dareena said softly, her voice full of emotion. Her green eyes were bright as she bowed to the king. “I am honored to be joining your family, my king.”
“And we are honored to have you,” he said. There was a pause as his gaze swept the room, briefly lingering on his sons. “It is usually tradition to have your future mate dance with you on this night,” he said to Dareena, though he was looking at Drystan. “But since we do not yet know which of my sons will have that honor, I will dance with you instead.”
Drystan gritted his teeth as his father took Dareena onto the dance floor. The orchestra began a graceful, melodic tune, and the brothers watched mutely as their father swept the Dragon’s Gift across the floor.