Bated: Reverse Harem Dragon Shifter Fairytale (Goldilocks and The Three Dragons Trilogy Book 1)

by Delia Castel

  Berrin’s heart pounded, and he shot Marigold an apologetic look. His earlier reassurances now appeared glib in light of Polaris’ words. “I thought Uncle was more concerned about taking the fortune for himself.”

  “That was my initial suspicion but coming here to announce his intentions to take control of the estate was counterproductive. A dragon whose priority is to steal an inheritance wouldn’t give his victims the opportunity to mount a preemptive defense.”

  Marigold whimpered, and Berrin placed his arm around her waist and walked her to the sofa. “I’ll take you to the port right now. Before he returns, you’ll be halfway to Habilis.”

  “She’s not leaving until she answers our questions!” snapped Matheson.

  Polaris placed a hand on Matheson’s shoulder and stepped in front of him. “Please, Marigold. If there is anything you can tell us, it would help both our situations.”

  Berrin lowered himself onto the sofa and placed his arm around her shaking form, lending her his strength. “But I don’t see the point of asking Marigold about her identity. How much could an orphan possibly know about parents she’s never met?”

  Matheson curled his lip. “What about the bracelet you stole?”

  Marigold stiffened. “If you call taking back your property from a thieving bear stealing, then you must have a backbone smaller than your attention span!”

  “How dare you.” Matheson’s face flushed. The muscles of his neck corded, and he clenched his fists.

  A rush of fury propelled Berrin out of his seat, and a low growl reverberated in his throat. His pulse pounded in his ears in time with his raging heart. He would not let Matheson offend or harm his lady! Baring his teeth, he snarled, “Get out, before I rend you into pieces.”

  “Stop this!” snapped Polaris. “The two of yo—”

  Marigold stepped around Berrin, her golden locks flying, her little fists balled. Berrin glanced down at her and turned to Polaris, who shrugged.

  “I told you yesterday, remember?” she said. “That bracelet belonged to my mother. She gave it to the nuns to pass onto me when I was older.” Her voice was thick with tears, and the sound made Berrin’s heart twist. “It’s the only thing I have left of my parents. That’s why I took it back from Lord Arctos.”

  Matheson stepped back, eyes wide. Within a millisecond, he recovered from her outburst and sneered, “It was foolish of you to risk your freedom for a mere trinket.”

  Berrin scowled. “Look here—”

  “You’ve been such a bastard, and I understand why. You’re grieving and angry. I can forgive that.” Her body shook with every word. “But I won’t stand for you mocking me for wanting to hold on to the one connection I have with a mother I never even got the chance to meet!”

  Matheson’s lips pressed together, and his body shook. Berrin’s hands twitched to snatch Marigold away, but he restrained himself. If she was going to make a new life for herself and Ella in Habilis, she would have to learn to defend herself. That didn’t stop him from having his claws ready if Matheson dared to touch her. His brother’s nostrils flared, and his eyes shone with malice. Berrin couldn’t tell if he was holding back an insult or trying not to cry. Matheson’s face twisted with anguish, and he spun on his heel and stormed out of the room.

  Berrin wrapped his arm around Marigold and pressed a kiss on her head. “I’m sorry about him.”

  “You made an admirable defense,” said Polaris. “Matheson must learn the importance of keeping his temper under control. May I see the bracelet in question?”

  Marigold shrunk into Berrin’s embrace. “The last time a shifter wanted a closer look, he confiscated it.”

  “Polaris isn’t like that.” He rubbed her back. “You can trust him.”

  His brother gave Marigold a rare smile. “I promise to give it the respect it deserves and return it to its rightful owner.”

  When she didn’t move, Berrin furrowed his brow. Polaris had implied that if he believed the bracelet didn’t belong to Marigold, he would return it to whoever had owned it first. “You’re giving it back to her no matter what.”

  The side of his lip twitched. “On my honor as a General of the King’s Regiment and as your elder brother.”

  “You can trust him,” Berrin murmured into her ear.

  “All right.” She held out her wrist, revealing a bracelet made of the finest dragon’s gold. Around a dozen charms hanging from its thick chain glinted in the sunlight.

  Berrin’s brows rose. How could he have not noticed such an exquisite piece of jewelry? Polaris stepped forward to undo the clasp. When his fingertips brushed her skin, she startled and sucked in a breath. Polaris flinched and snatched his hand away.

  Berrin tilted his head to the side. “Are you all right?”

  She gave him a rapid nod, unclasped the bracelet and dropped it into Polaris’ outstretched palm. He frowned at her and then down at the gold item, rolling over the charms with his index finger.

  “I didn’t steal it,” she blurted.

  Berrin furrowed his brow.

  “I believe your story,” replied Polaris, his attention still on the little charms.

  Marigold relaxed. “Oh.”

  Berrin gave her waist a squeeze. He hoped she believed that Polaris had meant what he said.

  “Do you recognize the symbols on the charms?” asked Polaris.

  She leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

  “I may be wrong, but each of the animals on the charms are heraldic.”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “Heraldic?”

  “Most coats of arms consist of different animals,” said Berrin. Heraldry was not taught at St. Fafnir’s, but most young dragons knew enough about the subject to recognize the most important houses. “For example, dragon shifters always have at least one dragon on their coats.”

  “Like the Four Dragons of Igneous?” she asked.

  “That’s right,” replied Polaris. “Many think it represents the four Princes or the four territories, but it refers back to dragon mythology. The King of the Fairies descended from his realm in the guise of a snake and mated with a powerful sorceress, who gave birth to four sons. They became the first dragon shifters, each mastering the elements of fire, water, air and earth.”

  Berrin smiled. He’d learned that legend from one of his governesses. “The four brothers married the same witch, forming the first haremage.”

  Marigold gave him a blank look.

  “It’s when three or more males, brothers or brothers-in-arms, marry or become mated to a single female.”

  “Is that common?” she asked.

  Polaris raised a shoulder. “Among families who insist on marrying their sons to pure-blood dragon females. And some say it’s the most effective way to guarantee healthy female offspring.” He stared down at the bracelet. “I don’t recognize some of these symbols, which suggest they may have come from a mix of families outside Igneous.”

  Marigold nodded. “Does that mean my mother could have been someone important?”

  He gave her a sad smile, which brought a lump to Berrin’s throat. “It is hard to tell. Noblewoman don’t just go missing. Especially those expecting an heir. You could be the illegitimate child of a nobleman. Alternatively, the bracelet could have been gifted to your mother by a noble family.”

  “Oh.” She nodded.

  “I will take some rubbings, if I may?” asked Polaris.

  “That’s fine.”

  Polaris inclined his head. “Please remain here as our guest for as long as you wish. As soon as we have apprehended the murderer and resolved the situation with Uncle Hertz, I will be able to put a little effort into investigating the bracelet.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  His lips made the smallest of smiles. “I will take my leave.”

  As Polaris walked towards the door, Berrin opened his mouth to say that Marigold intended to leave the country, but he stopped himself. Perhaps his brother’s promise of helping her find her o
rigins might encourage her to rethink her plans of going to Habilis. Fafnir would be a safe hiding place, and Uncle Hertz would never think of venturing out to the small rural island. He glanced at Marigold, who stared after Polaris with a strange gleam in her eye.

  “What do you think of his offer?” he asked.

  She turned to him, her smile wide. “I’m so glad that the General is on our side!”

  Berrin chuckled. “Call him Polaris! And any dragon in their right mind would like you. What should we do today?”

  “I still want to go to Habilis as soon as possible,” she replied.

  Berrin’s stomach plummeted. He had hoped that his brother’s offer would at least make her reconsider leaving the country. Something must have shown on his face, because her eyes widened. “I’m not saying that I’m getting on a ship today, but after the luck I’ve had, it’s important to have an escape plan.”

  His cheeks reddened with shame. That had been a selfish reaction towards a lady who faced the death penalty for a situation that hadn’t even been her fault. “My apologies, Mari. I’m behind you on whatever you decide. At the very least, we could correspond. I could send you the results of my brother’s investigation.”

  Her face broke out into a smile that made his breath hitch. “I’d appreciate that.”

  “You said you wanted to help Ella. You know where she lives?”

  Marigold shook her head.

  “I can take you there after we investigate transportation to Habilis.”

  Marigold beamed, and Berrin’s heart flipped. Regardless of his wishes, it was important that Marigold escape a harsh and unfair punishment. He would just have to make sure to enjoy whatever time he had left with her.

  He smiled back and headed for his armoire. “Let’s ready the horses.”

  Chapter 12

  Marigold rubbed her hand and followed Berrin down the stairs. Something peculiar had happened when Polaris had touched her. She wondered if it was because he was a full dragon, because she hadn’t felt such a jolt with Berrin or Matheson.

  “I can’t guarantee you’ll find a ship, because today’s the first day of Festival Week,” said Berrin. He guided her down the hallway to another side entrance. “The stables are this way.”

  Marigold chewed her lip. She couldn’t afford to remain in the house in case Governor Hertz returned. With a bit of luck, there would be a sailor brave enough to make the crossing. Most people in Igneous believed that working during Festival Week brought bad luck. Marigold thought the superstition was nonsense. Servants who had no families worked during the holiday, as did people employed by inns and taverns. They seemed to have the same amount of luck as everyone else.

  They stepped out into a gravel pathway lined with tall magnolia trees in bloom. The late-morning sun shone through its thick, waxy leaves, making them glow a bright shade of chartreuse. Marigold gazed up into the canopy, inhaling the faint scent of lemon, which carried in the breeze. White, hand-sized flowers, their exteriors streaked with lavender and lilac, opened their petals, revealing buttercup-yellow stamens.

  “What type of magnolias are these?” she asked.

  Berrin’s smile faded. “Mother had these planted ten years ago. They’re said to chase away the humors that kill a dragon’s fire.”

  Marigold nodded and gave his arm a squeeze. From the thickness of his voice, she guessed it was probably too soon for him to speak about his parents. She knew about the four humors. It was the foundation of medicine for doctors, surgeons, and apothecaries. She did not know that dragons also used them.

  They reached the stable block. It was a flat-fronted building constructed with the same limestone facade and multi-paneled windows as the mansion. Before they reached the archway that led to a gravel courtyard, Berrin turned to Marigold. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Why don’t you sit in the gardens and enjoy the flowers, while I ready the horses?”

  “All right.” She headed towards an array of large, weeping rose trees, the soles of her boots crunching on the fine gravel. If Berrin needed a few minutes alone to gather himself, she would give him space. While some people relied on their friends for warmth and comfort, others preferred to put forward a strong front. She guessed that Berrin was the latter, or at least thought he had to be stoic and manly for her.

  Ignoring the benches, she headed for the largest, a seven-foot high shrub, consisting of a woody stalk as thick as her arm. At the top of the plant, a massive canopy of branches, laden with vermillion roses the diameter of saucers, cascaded down like the ribs of a parasol. She stood underneath their shade, encased in a scent that reminded her of spiced wine. Closing her eyes, she lifted her head and inhaled, spreading her arms, soaking in all its beauty.

  “What are you doing?” asked a rough voice. Her eyes snapped open. A young bear shifter stood a few yards beyond the branches. His amber eyes were narrowed, and a scowl distorted his features. “The young master told me to maul all trespassers, you know.”

  Marigold stepped out from the weeping rose. “I’m a guest.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a girl disguised as a boy.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” She stared down at her borrowed clothes. Although she was clad in Berrin’s linen shirt and wool breeches, she hadn’t bound her breasts or tied back her hair.

  “The family doesn’t entertain during Festival Week. They even send the servants home.”

  “Then why are you here?” She put her hands on her hips.

  A flush darkened his features. “I always hibernate for Festival Week, on account of not wanting to travel home. The sheriff woke me up yesterday to take my statement about the murders.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders drooped a fraction. “Did you notice anything strange?” she asked.

  “I was sleeping, wasn’t I?”

  She shrugged. It never hurt to ask.

  “Mari?” said a voice in the distance. Berrin poked his blond head out from under the roof of a single-horse cabriolet.

  “Coming!” she jogged over to the carriage, ignoring the shocked expression on the stable boy’s face.

  They drove out of the grounds, through the leafy suburb of Florus and into Sigma Central. Throughout the journey they didn’t mention Berrin’s melancholy or his murdered parents. Every so often, she would kiss him on the cheek or rub his back, but her efforts were in vain, as his mood didn’t lift. Once they’d cleared the centre of town, Berrin drove the cabriolet down a long, country road.

  “Is the port far from here?” she asked.

  “Not more than ten minutes,” he replied.

  Marigold sighed and gave him a pat on the knee. He hadn’t seemed the stoic type yesterday or earlier, when they had made love. His sadness was understandable, but she wished there was something she could say or do to help. She sat back, ignoring the empty feeling in her stomach. It might have been hunger, but she was so used to going without food that she thought it unlikely. Besides, Berrin had provided her with a feast when she’d been locked in the wine cellar. “If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here to listen.”

  He gave her a sad, half-smile. “I’m fine.”

  “But you’re—”

  “Mari.” He placed his hand on hers. “I wouldn’t dream of burdening you.”

  Her chest tightened, but she didn’t push the issue. They continued along the country road, their only companions birdsong, hoof beats, and the breeze rustling through the forest leaves. Perhaps Berrins’ low mood was related to something other than the murder of his parents.

  Minutes later, the forest became less dense. It faded into meadows filled with long-stemmed wildflowers of blues and pinks and yellows. Marigold leaned forward, marveling at the way they danced in the breeze. Inhaling their soft, soothing scent, she sighed. “We didn’t have anything like this in Boreas, unless you count snowdrops.”

  “Fafnir Island has wildflower meadows, too,” he mumbled.

  Her breath hitched, and she tore her gaze away from the
beautiful meadow. At least she knew the cause of his sadness.

  He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. You must think me awfully selfish.”

  She slid her hand over his. “If I wasn’t a fugitive, I’d want to stay with you forever.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve never met anyone like you. This morning was the most pleasure I’ve ever received in my life.”

  The corner of his lips curled, and he dipped his head. “Truly?”

  “Berrin, after this morning, I don't think I’ll find ordinary men of interest.” She wasn’t usually this forthcoming about her feelings, but it was the truth. Berrin’s endowments would be impossible to match.

  He flushed. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”

  “Of course not.” She kissed his cheek. “Why don’t we talk about the possibility of Fafnir later? I barely know anything about the island and who rules it.”

  He turned his head, eyes softening. “It wasn’t my intention to change your mind about Habilis.”

  “I’m keeping my options open,” she replied. Even if Fafnir was a viable hiding place, it was still a good idea to gather information about passage out of Igneous.

  They reached a large town consisting of four-story, stone-brick buildings with arched doorways. The upper floors of the buildings consisted of thick, timber frames, filled with cob, as though someone had added them at a later date. The roads were arranged in what she could only describe as concentric arches. Rows upon rows of warehouses, inns, and taverns surrounded a cobbled square that led to a stone quay. Beyond it, dozens of sailors unloaded barrels using oxen-powered cranes.

  After leaving the cabriolet at a nearby stable yard, they walked toward the seafront. Berrin placed his hand on the small of Marigold’s back. “There are plenty of ships around, which is a good sign.”

  “Is there someone who manages all the comings and goings of the ships?” she asked.