by Delia Castel
“I see…” Marigold opened the dresser, scanned its contents and found the milk jug. It was interesting to learn about Ella’s family, but her friend needed help now. “Won’t you reconsider Berrin’s offer? I’ve only met you twice, and twice that dragon has hurt you.”
Ella glanced away. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Marigold let out a frustrated breath. “This isn’t about my discomfort at watching you get hurt. Can’t you see how dangerous it is for you to stay here? What if she gets angry and slashes you to pieces?”
Ella closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “It’s only going to be for a short time. My stepsisters will leave when they get married, and Lady Brimstone has a beau who is always proposing.”
“Why hasn’t she accepted?” asked Marigold.
“She’s waiting for him to finish some money-making scheme he says will make them rich. Her father used to rule Habilis, you see, and she wants to gather the funds to—”
“Your Uncle Hertz is an admirer of mine,” said Lady Brimstone’s cruel voice from above.
Marigold’s heart stopped, and she froze. Any mention of the Governor made her want to retch.
After a tense silence, Berrin said, “Really?”
“Yes,” she drawled. “I chatted with him at the Papaver Palace. He told me the most interesting thing.”
Blood drained from Marigold’s face, and bile rose to the back of her throat. She swallowed hard, as though that would muffle the sound of her pounding heart.
“Indeed?” Berrin’s voice shook.
“He was asking about a young human girl named Merry Gold or some such. Of course, I told him of the strange human I encountered on the road to Florus, walking alongside my stepdaughter.”
Ella turned to Marigold. “What’s wrong?”
Marigold shook her head and pointed at the vitruvius.
Ella nodded.
“Who is the human associating with my Ella?” asked the she-dragon.
After a pause, Berrin said, “I’d like to leave now.”
“Sit down.” Her voice was cold enough to freeze a dragon’s flames. “Good… Do you know the penalty for harboring a fugitive?”
“No,” replied Berrin.
“A family of wolf shifters was executed last month for what you are doing.”
“I don’t know what you—”
“Do not lie to me!”
Marigold jumped. Even if dragons weren’t executed for the same crime, she didn’t want the brothers to get into trouble. She turned to Ella and murmured, “I have to go.”
“What’s this about?” she whispered back, her eyes wide.
“There is a way to save your family from ruin, you know,” said Lady Brimstone. When Berrin didn’t answer, she added, “Report the human to the authorities. I will even let you keep the reward.”
Marigold’s stomach twisted. Berrin didn’t seem the type who would betray her, but then, neither had Unwin. After having his parents murdered, he likely didn’t want to attract any more misfortune to himself and his brothers. If Berrin did decide to report her, it would hurt, but she would understand. Life was harsh, and anyone who thought a man’s affection as unwavering was a fool. She sped toward the kitchen door and pulled the handle.
“Lady Brimstone,” he snapped. “If you think me the type of dragon who would hurt a lady of any species, you are mistaken.”
Marigold paused. Her pulse beat so hard against her eardrums, the voices became muffled.
Berrin continued. “I would be willing to call upon your daughters if I could be assured that they were as kind-hearted and merciful as their mother.”
Lady Brimstone’s laugh echoed through the vitruvius’ chute. “Very well,” she purred. “I will keep silent about your association with a wanted criminal if you and Matheson visit tomorrow. I am sure that he would enjoy the company of two pure-blooded she-dragons.”
Marigold slumped against the wood of the door, her breath leaving her lungs in one relieved gush. He had protected her! Her heart filled, expanding her chest and making her want to cheer. Grateful tears gathered in the corner of her eyes, and she swallowed. Berrin was like no male she had ever encountered, and despite her troubles, a sense of peace fell over her soul.
“Of course, My Lady,” he replied in a smooth voice. “However, we would like to wait the customary mourning period before commencing courtship.”
Marigold waved goodbye at Ella, hoping her friend wouldn’t judge her harshly for not having revealed her criminal background. She raced up the stairs and through the hallway, spotting Berrin sitting rigid on the edge of a gold brocade sofa, sandwiched between two dark-haired, horse-faced she-dragons.
By the time Marigold reached the front door, Lady Brimstone stood outside the parlor, her eyes raking over Marigold’s body like claws. Berrin slipped past and strode towards Marigold. “Please await my correspondence.”
“With anticipation!” Lady Brimstone clapped her hands together, making the charms on her gold bracelet clink. A wicked grin spread across her pinched features.
As soon as she and Berrin stepped into the afternoon light, Marigold exhaled a sigh. She and Berrin didn’t speak until they had boarded the cabriolet and were half way down the street.
Marigold placed her hand over his. “I want to thank you for what you said up there.”
“It’s how any gentleman would have acted in the same situation.”
She shook her head, admiring the way his dark blonde hair framed his earnest face. He didn’t even know he was exceptionally special. “When are you supposed to drag Matheson to meet her daughters?”
“In two weeks’ time. You’ll be long gone by then, and Matheson will refuse to set foot in her house.”
“What if she tells your uncle?”
“Then it will be her word against mine.” He turned the carriage into the road leading to the Auburn Mansion. “Something tells me she won’t wait until then to send word to Uncle Hertz. Let’s go back and work out your options.”
Chapter 14
Matheson stopped his chariot within the grounds of Papaver Palace, wiping his sweaty hands on his jacket. The establishment was the keep of an ancient stronghold a league outside Sigma, accessed through a poppy field and via a moat and drawbridge. The courtyard’s stone walls seemed to close in on him, and the afternoon sun stung his eyes. He bowed his pounding head and groaned. Ignoring his roiling stomach, he released the reins, grabbed the edge of the vehicle and pulled himself upright. The action reawakened the ache in his bones, and he bit down hard on his lip to suppress a moan. In less than an hour, he’d let himself lie in bed with the curtains drawn.
He needed to get inside the palace, find its owner, Magnus Rex, and discover who had purchased papaver to consume off the premises. If he could achieve that, he would be one step further to finding the murderers. A wave of nausea crashed over him, and he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a flask of distilled wormwood. A sigh slipped out from between his lips. When Polaris had implied that he had left Mother and Father undefended, he had promised never to touch wormwood or papaver again. Now, to get the strength to interrogate Magnus Rex, he would need go back on his word.
“Master Auburn?” said a voice from behind, “May I park your chariot?”
Matheson startled and dropped the flask back into his pocket. He turned to find a black-haired footman wringing his hands. “What?”
“You are blocking the doorway, Sir. Other patrons would like to enter.”
With another groan, he stepped down from the platform of his vehicle. Tiny white dust clouds rose from the chalk beneath his feet. The footman drove the chariot to the stables, and Matheson ascended the stairs into Papaver Palace. In the harsh light of day, the grime and moss and mildew on the Palace’s external wall stood out like lizards lounging on a rock. He gulped and hurried his steps.
A servant at the entrance opened the doors, letting out the sweet, rich aroma of burning papaver. It warmed his lungs and be
ckoned him like a lover. Matheson released a shuddering breath and stepped into the stone hallway. Tendrils of smoke engulfed him and seeped into his aching bones.
Lilac, one of his favorite girls, emerged from the dungeon stairs. She flicked back her blonde ringlets and smiled. Placing her hands on her waist, she sauntered towards him, exaggerating the sway of her hips beneath her form-fitting red dress. Sunlight from the open doors fell on her face, illuminating the deep lines hidden beneath heavy face powder. Matheson gulped and lowered his gaze to her wine-stained lips, receding gums, and teeth, which dangled by thin, rust-colored roots. He flinched at the sight. The door slammed shut behind him, and in the dim light, she became his Lilac again.
“Matt,” her voice was breathy. “You said you were going back for more gold. Where have you been?”
“You haven’t heard.” His voice broke.
Her eyes widened, and she placed her hand on her plump chest. “Did misfortune cross your path?” He glanced away from her artificial beauty. Seeing her in the light and without the influence of wormwood or papaver had broken her allure. “Matt… Talk to me! I can make you feel good. Did you bring the gold like you said?”
“I need to see Magnus Rex.”
“Oh.” She drew back. “He’s upstairs in his chamber. When you’ve finished with him, drop down to the basement.” She winked. “I have exactly what you need.”
Matheson held back a grimace. He sincerely doubted that Lilac had anything that would interest him. Compared to a natural beauty like Marigold, she was a grasping, painted hagfish. The ache in his arms flared. It hadn’t been Lilac’s fault that he had been here while murderers had incapacitated Mother and Father with papaver. The only person he could blame was himself. He gave her a tight, noncommittal smile and headed up the wooden staircase. His feet creaked on each tread, and Matheson wondered if Magnus Rex kept the stairs in that condition as an early warning sign for attackers.
At the top of the stairs was a small, stone hallway and a heavy oak door illuminated by a pair of dim lanterns. Two stringy-looking wolf shifters stepped out of Magnus Rex’s office. Clad in the black livery of the Papaver Palace guards, they leaned against the wall, arms folded, leering down at him. Matheson assumed that they were of higher rank, as they wore red sashes over their thin waists.
The taller of the pair, a yellow-eyed male with shaggy white hair, peppered with black strands, stepped in his path. “The lounges are in the basement. Are you lost, young master?”
“I have business with Magnus Rex,” replied Matheson.
“Oh, yeah?” The other wolf pushed himself off the wall and stood next to his companion. His own hair was long and tawny, as were the eyebrows that spread across his forehead. “We don’t have your name in his book of appointments.”
Matheson lifted his chin. “That’s because no such thing exists.”
“Are you here to pay off a debt, then?”
“I am up to date with my tab.”
“Then enjoy yourself downstairs. If you have no gold, you can settle your bills later.”
Matheson pursed his lips. No right-minded dragon would rack up a single penny of debt with Magnus Rex unless they wanted to pay interest rates that compounded on a daily basis. He shook his head. “Seriously, fellows, my business with Magnus Rex is urgent.”
Another wolf shifter, female this time, poked her shorn head out of the doorway. “The boss says he can come in.”
The two shifters stepped aside, allowing Matheson to pass. He entered the office to find Magnus Rex sitting behind a counting desk, complete with Abacus. The dragon looked about the same age as grandfather had been when he had died at the age of ninety. Gray hairs peppered his black sideburns, suggesting that he had once sampled his own merchandise for a few years.
His face split into a grin of small, sharp teeth.
“Matheson, my boy! Come inside. Sit, sit!”
The female wolf shifter picked up a wooden stool from across the room and placed it in front of the counting desk. Matheson gave her a nod of thanks and lowered himself into the seat. “Thank you for seeing me.”
He waved a sharp nailed hand, replete with square-cut diamond rings. “Nonsense, nonsense! Your presence is always a pleasure. What news do you have for me?”
The two wolf shifters who had accosted him outside the room entered and leaned against the wall. Matheson coughed. “Actually, it is a rather sensitive matter.”
“Tell me more,” he purred, holding his chin between his pointed fingers.
Matheson cleared his throat, so his voice wouldn’t break as he said the next words. “When I returned from the Palace yesterday evening, I found my Mother and Father murdered.”
A gasp, too loud and too exaggerated to be genuine, wheezed out from between Magnus Rex’s lips. He drew back, eyes widened theatrically, the points of his long fingernails digging into his chest. “What a tragedy! How distressing!” He nodded over Matheson’s shoulder at one of the wolf shifters standing by the door. The female brought a curved, silver pipe. On its end perched an ornamental silver dragon. “Take your fill… A gift from the Palace, of course.”
A throb jerked Matheson’s hand towards the pipe, but he snatched it back to his lap. Magnus Rex never gave out free papaver unless he was trying to hook a new customer. His reactions screamed that this gesture was no gift of condolence. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. “No, thank you. I have some questions.”
Magnus Rex tilted his head to the side, staring at Matheson with an exaggerated frown. “My boy, you must partake. It is the only remedy known to ease your pain. I do not wish you to succumb to the curse that nearly killed you as a child.”
Matheson lowered his neck. Father’s lectures about the evils of papaver rang through his head. He had told Matheson hundreds of times that the curse had broken, and its lingering effects would vanish as soon as he could transform into a dragon. A lump swelled in his throat, closing off his air. Such a lofty age had seemed an eternity away, but Matheson had pushed through with the help of willow bark and blue lotus. When Kaida had betrothed herself to his best friend and cousin, his pain had flared, and he just wanted the agony to end. He shook his head. Wallowing in his own guilt and grief and self-loathing wasn’t going to bring Mother and Father back from the dead. And it wasn’t going to bring their killer to justice.
“My parents couldn’t defend themselves yesterday because they had been under the influence of papaver.”
Magnus Rex’s brows furrowed. “The late Governor was not a client of mine. Neither was his wife.”
“I know. But I think someone bought papaver from you and gave it to them somehow.”
“With a view to murdering them.” His voice was flat, and his lips pursed.
“Yes,” rasped Matheson.
The other dragon bared his small, pointed teeth. “I sincerely hope you are not suggesting that I supplied a murderer. The mere rumor of involvement in such an act could lead a dragon to ruin.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything, but you are the only producer of papaver strong enough to kill flames.”
Magnus Rex folded his arms. “Wolves.”
Two pairs of strong hands wrenched Matheson backwards off his seat. His stomach lurched, but before he could react, the male wolf shifters slammed him hard against the wall. The impact pushed the air from his lungs, and pain radiated across his shoulders and the back of his skull like wildfire.
Magnus Rex sat forward in his high backed leather chair, glaring up at him over his steepled fingers. “You do not come into my Palace and throw around dangerous accusations. In the name of Orcus, get out of my house!”
Matheson lurched forward, but the shifters jerked him back. “Why this reaction if you have nothing to fear?”
The female wolf shifter encased her hand in an iron glove, spiked at the knuckles, and glanced at Magnus Rex with her brows raised for permission. He gave a slight wave of his head, and she receded to the corner of the office.
“You wi
ll find that people do not like erroneous accusations made by grief-addled whelps.” He waved his hand in a shooing motion. “You are hereby suspended from the Palace. Come back when your pain becomes so unbearable that you are willing to kiss my gnarled feet in apology. I will welcome you back with open arms and give you the honor of purchasing papaver at quadruple the price.”
Matheson’s nostrils flared. “You would dare speak to the future Lord Auburn with such disrespect?”
Magnus Rex spread his arms wide. “In the business of papaver, even the lowliest half-blood who cannot transform is the better of an addicted great Lord. Good day.”
A gasp escaped Matheson’s lips. Magnus Rex was a half-blood? The wolf shifters jostled him backwards out of the room. Before the door slammed in his face, Magnus Rex held up a long-nailed finger. “Actually, I’ve change my mind. One customer of note purchases papaver in quantities large enough to kill the fire of two dragons over time.”
Matheson’s heart lurched. “Who?”
“Hertz. Tell your uncle that he owes me a King’s ransom, and I’ve already passed his delinquent account to the creditors arm of the Guild of Assassins.”
Blood drained from his face. The Assassin’s Guild owned Papaver Palace? “What?”
The taller of the two wolf shifters stepped into the doorway. With a mocking smirk, he blocked his view of Magnus Rex. “Good day!”
Matheson grabbed the handle, but it was jammed. He pounded on the door. “What did you mean?”
Snickers were his answer. The pain in his arms spread to his heart and wrapped around his lungs, making him choke with grief. It was clear that the half-blood’s intention was to cause as much chaos as he could. Why else would he hand out Uncle Hertz’ name? He lowered his fists and gave the door a final kick. Just because Magnus Rex was trying to cause disharmony, that didn't mean that he wasn’t telling the truth.