by Delia Castel
Bated
Goldilocks and The Three Dragons Book One
Delia Castel
Copyright © 2018 by Delia Castel
Copyright © 2018 by Delia Castel. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Also by Delia Castel
Writing as Cordelia Castel
Prologue
“You killed my parents, and I will kill you!” The hand gripping Marigold’s neck lifted her off her feet and slammed her against the wall.
Pain ricocheted through Marigold’s skull, making her head spin. Flailing in his grasp, she tried to wriggle free, but the man’s crushing grip cut off her air. “Stop,” she rasped. “I can’t brea—”
“Who sent you?” he snarled. The man’s green eyes blazed.
Marigold gave her head the barest shake. How in Igneous could he think that a human female of five feet six could possibly overpower and mortally wound a pair of dragons over three times her size? She clutched at his hands, her fingers still sticky with the dragons’ blood.
The man leaned into her, his green eyes blazing with insanity. Marigold’s stomach lurched, and a scream stuck in her constricted throat. His face burned as red as his hair, and angry veins stood out on his temple like bolts of lightning.
She forced herself to calm. This wasn’t the first time she’d faced down an angry shifter. Although the officers at the House of Corrections were bear shifters—mild in comparison to a fire-breathing beast—she’d survived their violent tempers. If she kept a cool head, she would survive this enraged dragon… as long as he didn’t shift.
“Who are you?” He shouted a spray of alcohol scented breath.
She moved her lips, but no sound came out.
“Talk, before I smash your skull!” He shook her so hard, her eyes rolled around in their sockets.
Marigold’s fingers tightened over the hand crushing her neck, hoping he would take the hint, because she could barely focus, let alone muster enough air to speak. “…Gold.”
“Well, Goldilocks…” He pulled his lips back into a sneer, exposing teeth that seemed to sharpen before her eyes. “I will give you a quick death if you can tell me who sent you to kill my parents.”
“I didn’t—”
“Then it’s a slow, torturous demise.” Fires danced in those manic, green eyes, and he raised a clawed hand.
Marigold didn’t even have the left strength to even whimper. The dragon shifter was going to rip her to shreds and then burn her remains. A rasping sob escaped her throat, and she cursed the day she had encountered Lord Arctos. If the wretched bear shifter hadn’t confiscated her mother’s bracelet, she would never have gone to prison for stealing it back. Marigold would never have been released to serve the rest of her sentence in a brothel, and she would never have had to bludgeon her parole officer for wanting to break her into her new profession.
The man grabbed her hair and twisted. Marigold squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. Somewhere, beyond the deafening whoosh of blood rushing through her ears, she thought she heard him give her another chance to answer. It was of no use. Protesting her innocence would only enrage him further.
“Say something!” he roared.
Her hands dropped like lead weights to her side, her head fell forward, and she let out a final cry. He was going to kill her, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop him. The only thought that gave her a measure of comfort was that she would die wearing her mother’s precious bracelet.
Chapter 1
Hunched in the seat of the carriage, Berrin stared out of the sash window. The setting sun, filtering in through the steel-blue clouds, cast the neighborhood of Florus in its soft, crimson light. He glared at the tall, white walls obscuring the compounds of the exclusive homes. If he had known he would need to spend a year waiting to re-apply for the regiment, he would not have left St. Fafnir’s Academy. Now, he faced twelve bleak months of enduring Mother and Father’s cold formality.
Polaris patted him on the shoulder. “Have you decided what you will do, little brother?”
“I’ll rent a garret in Sigma Central and tell Father I need to be close to the Regiment headquarters.” When Polaris’ dark blue eyes sparkled with mirth, Berrin scowled. “What’s so funny about that?”
He smoothed down his hair. In the dim light of the carriage, it looked nearly black. “A garret was one of the options that crossed my mind when I was fretting about my entrance exam.”
Berrin’s breath caught. “You would have left me to live somewhere else?”
Polaris shook his head. “That was the reason why I dismissed it as soon as it came into my mind.”
For the first time since that ill-fated entrance exam, hope flickered in Berrin’s chest. Even if he had failed to transform his fingernails into claws, and even if the one person he admired most in the world had witnessed his humiliation, he still had his brother’s love.
“I think we can do better than a garret,” said Polaris. “If you wish, I will ask Father to release funds for a residence on Rex Boulevard.”
“Thank you.” Berrin smiled. Rex Boulevard was the tree-lined road that linked the palace to the headquarters of the King’s Regiment. Whenever not stationed overseas or in the other three territories of Igneous, Generals like Polaris were required to stay on the Boulevard to be close to both the King and their colleagues in the headquarters building.
The carriage pulled into the courtyard of the Auburn mansion, the crowning glory of the family estate. Clad in white limestone and tinted pink in the light of the setting sun, it stood three stories high. Each, massive window held twenty-four smaller panes, trimmed with carved moldings. Berrin’s chest tightened. Behind this beautiful facade was an interior as elegant and sterile as his parents.
“Here we are,” said Polaris. “Since you’re set on joining the Regiment, don’t let Father talk you into becoming his protégé.”
Earlier, Polaris had suggested that Father was looking for another heir, as Matheson had proven himself unreliable. Berrin shuddered at the notion. Matheson was welcome to Father’s money. Berrin couldn’t imagine managing all that wealth and becoming a distant, austere dragon like Father. Neither of his parents had ever shown him anything but impatience, veiled by a distant formality. When they weren’t governing the district of Austellus or conducting business, they were consumed by Matheson and his health problems. Berrin’s childhood had been a procession of governesses, tutors and instructors, with Polaris as the only bright spot in his
life. The moment Polaris had been inducted into the King’s Regiment, Berrin had been packed off to St. Fafnir’s Academy like a piece of unwanted luggage.
When the carriage stopped outside the triple-height doors of the mansion, Polaris paused and patted Berrin on the back. “Do not fret. I will stay for Festival Week.”
The tightness around Berrin’s chest loosened. He would make sure to leave with Polaris at the end of the week and find accommodations outside the Auburn mansion. Over the years, Mother and Father had become strangers to him, and the place hadn’t felt like home in over a decade. He gave his brother a nod. “Thank you.”
Polaris opened the carriage door and stepped out into the gravel courtyard. Berrin followed and headed toward the steps leading to the double doors.
“You may return to headquarters, Corporal,” said Polaris. “I will send a swift when I am in need of you.”
The driver saluted. “As you command, General.”
Polaris slung an arm around Berrin’s shoulder. “Come along, little brother. Let’s see if we can find something diverting to occupy your time.”
Berrin’s shoulders stiffened as he watched the carriage leave through the front gates. He hoped his brother wasn’t suggesting that he conduct an unseemly liaison with Marigold. Since he wasn’t in the position to offer the beautiful, young lady anything in the way of marriage or commitment, he wouldn’t keep her as a lover, let alone court her.
They turned towards the doors, and a pained, female cry echoed from inside. Berrin’s stomach dropped. Polaris rushed ahead, drawing his sword.
“Wait for me!” Berrin unsheathed his sword from his belt and sped after him, bounding up the stairs.
When he rushed through the double doors, it was to find Matheson pinning a young lady to the wall by her neck. Both hands had formed flesh-colored scales, and his fingers had elongated to claws. Shock rooted Berrin to the marble, and his eyes protruded like stalks. The golden ringlets of the lady’s hair hung over her bowed head, and only the slight movement of her chest indicated that she was still alive. Berrin gasped. When he had heard that Father disapproved of Matheson’s conduct, he had not expected such brutal savagery. “Let go of her!”
“What in the name of Vulcan are you doing?” Polaris wrenched Matheson off the young lady, who crashed to the marble floor.
While Polaris wrestled Matheson to the ground, Berrin rushed towards the fallen lady. She lay on her front, as still as a rag doll. He knelt by her side, his heart twisting. “A-are you all right?” He reached out to comfort the poor, trembling woman, but he snatched away his hand. The last thing she needed was to be touched by the brother of her oppressor. Silent sobs wracked her body, and a lump formed in Berrin’s throat. He glared at his brother, who was trying to wrestle his way out from under Polaris to attack his victim. “Do you require medical assistance?”
She raised her head, revealing glistening, green eyes. Berrin gasped. “Marigold?”
“Oh, Berrin!” she rasped, and fell into his arms.
Berrin wrapped his arm around the young woman quaking on his chest. Words dried up in his throat. Why the name of Vulcan would sweet Marigold associate with a degenerate like his brother? He was about to ask, when Matheson slipped out from under Polaris’ grip. The whites of his eyes shone like lamplights, and spittle gathered in the corners of his mouth. “You know this murdering bitch?”
Berrin twisted around, shielding Marigold from his crazed brother. “What did you do to her? She’s covered in blood!”
“She killed Mother and Father!” Matheson roared before Polaris pressed his weight on top of him.
Cold shock hit Berrin in the stomach like a cannonball, its impact knocking the air out of his lungs. He stared down at Marigold, waiting for her denial, but she continued to sob. He turned to Matheson, with the question on his lips, but his brother had once again broken free of Polaris and lunged. Instinct caused Berrin to skitter backwards, dragging Marigold out of reach. Fortunately for them both, Polaris recovered from the momentary shock and pinned Matheson down.
“Why are you defending our parent’s murderer?” he snarled.
“Calm yourself, Matty,” snapped Polaris. “Mother and Father are fine. You are having a papaver hallucination.”
Marigold continued sobbing in Berrin’s arms. He glanced down at his brother who was still struggling out of Polaris chokehold. Berrin shook his head. Papaver was what dragons smoked when they gained a resistance to the effects of blue lotus. He now understood what his professors had meant when they had warned that papaver could lead to a dragon’s ruin. “We need to call Doctor—”
An almighty roar made Berrin turn his head. Matheson flew towards him, his claws outstretched and aiming at Berrin’s eyes. Berrin flinched away. Pain lanced across his face, and he winced.
“You lead a murderer to our house!” screamed Matheson.
Still holding Marigold in a protective embrace, Berrin opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. Matheson had gone mad, and he needed to be restrained. “Polaris, please get him out of here. There’s no way a frail young lady could best Mother, let alone Father!”
“There’s blood on the floor,” said Polaris. “Where did it come from?”
Berrin’s gaze caught two sets of bloody footprints, one large and the other small. His breath hitched. There was too much blood on the marble floor tiles for it to have come from one petite lady. And Marigold didn’t appear to be bleeding. She was pressed against him so tightly, he would have felt a trickle of warm liquid on his skin. Ignoring his stinging cheek, he asked, “What happened?”
Matheson growled. “That is what I have been trying to tell you two!”
“Show me.” Polaris clamped his hand on Matheson’s shoulder. Pulling himself to his feet, he helped Matheson up. Berrin’s older brothers walked down the hallway in the direction of the bloody footprints.
Berrin gulped and gazed down at the blonde head buried in his chest. He held onto her shoulders and eased her back. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Marigold raised her head and stared up at him, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. “I…” She rasped, face twisted in a rictus of pain. Her hand flew to her neck, which had already broken out in purple marks. “I didn’t—”
“Berrin.” Polaris stood several feet away, his shoulders slumped. His red General’s jacket hung on his body like it belonged to a much larger dragon. His downcast eyes formed a forlorn expression that made him look younger than his twenty-eight years. “It is as Matheson said. Mother and Father have been slaughtered.”
Pain glanced through Berrin’s heart, squeezing out a sob. His spine slumped, and his arms dropped to his side. “There has to be another explanation. I don’t believe—”
“The evidence doesn’t lie.” Polaris’ voice was choked.
“But…” The words died in Berrin’s throat. He turned to Marigold waiting for her to explain herself, but she seemed too distraught from being half choked to death.
“I will kill her.” Matheson walked around Polaris and advanced on Marigold. His glinting, jewel-green eyes held a steely determination sharp enough to cut diamonds.
Before Berrin could protest, Polaris grabbed Matheson by the arm. “You will do no such thing.”
“We will call the High Sheriff, then,” said Matheson.
“Denied.”
“This is not the Army,” Matheson snarled, “and you are not in charge here!”
“I am still the eldest and the most level-headed of the two of us. If you call the High Sheriff, she will be hung without trial as an example.”
Matheson bared his teeth. “That’s the least she deserves!”
Marigold’s face crumpled. She clutched her chest and launched into a litany of hacking coughs.
“Quiet, both of you!” Berrin snapped. “Can’t you see that you’re scaring her?”
Matheson sneered and was about to speak, but Polaris silenced him with a raised palm. “We met her at the stagecoach station. It’s u
nlikely that she tracked us down here for the sole purpose of murdering our parents. Let us hear what she has to say.”
“All right.” Matheson raised his chin and glared down at her with the same imperious stare he would use on Berrin when he still lived at home. “Why did you kill my mother and father?”
Berrin rubbed her back as she coughed. Right now, he didn’t know what he felt. Someone had killed Mother and Father, and he knew it was terrible, but a numb shock had settled over his heart. He had thought the most awful things about his parents in the carriage, and now something appalling had happened to them.
While Marigold couldn’t have murdered two dragons, she might have seen what had happened. He stole a glance at Matheson, wondering if he had committed the deed while in the throes of a delusion brought on by fermented wormwood and papaver. An addled twenty-one year old dragon who couldn’t control his strength might be capable of anything.
When Marigold stopped coughing, she balled her tiny fists and glared in the direction of Berrin’s brothers. An angry flush bloomed on her pretty cheeks. “I didn’t!” Her voice was still hoarse. “I told that crimson dragon I would get help. But you were so hell-bent on capturing and choking the life out of me, and now he’s probably dead!”
Blood drained from Berrin’s face, and his hand dropped from Marigold’s back. Mother could have been saved? Matheson stared down at them, his face pale, lips trembling. He lowered his half-transformed hands, retracted his claws and fell to his knees. Harsh sobs wracked his body, and Berrin’s eyes welled in sympathy. Polaris stared from Matheson to Marigold, his mouth slack. Eventually, Berrin forced out the words, “Is this true?”