by Delia Castel
Polaris threw his head back and roared. His thrusts shallowed, and hot spurts heated the walls of her sex. He shuddered and buried his head into her shoulder. “If we didn’t form a bond yesterday, then we certainly have done so now.”
Marigold gurgled, glad she was lying on a flat surface. If Polaris wanted her to bathe with him, he would need to carry her up the stairs himself.
Chapter 5
Matheson strode through the hallway, clenching and unclenching his fists. If only he had been able to fight Uncle Hertz on equal terms. Then it would be him avenging Mother and Father’s murder and not Polaris, who seemed to be doing it out of honor and a desire to protect Marigold.
Shame washed over him like stale vinegar. If he hadn’t been a weak fledgling, he also wouldn’t be subject to Marigold’s suspicion and pity. She had appeared eager enough to forgive Polaris and had presumably spent the night with him at the doctor’s home.
He shook the thoughts out of his head. The family was once again facing tragedy. This time, it was in the shape of Berrin’s impending castration and whichever attempt at abducting Marigold Uncle Hertz would orchestrate. Now wasn’t the time for whining about whether Marigold liked or respected him.
His limbs, still running with unpleasant tingles from being thrown against the wall, trembled. He wrapped his arms around his chest, desperate for normality.
“Young Master?” He turned. Nanny appeared in the doorway of the family dining room, holding a vial of elixir. “Did seeing the mistress lift Berrin’s spirits?”
The formal tone of address startled him, and he tilted his head to the side, examining Nanny’s face. It was the usual, sour expression she always wore, but with a hardness behind her brown eyes.
Matheson swallowed. He couldn’t stand for another member of the family to blame him for the events of the night before. “He felt better until Uncle Hertz came in, offering to free him in exchange for a night with Marigold.”
She shook her head. “That dragon’s audacity knows no limits. I’m sure you told him where to stick his indecent proposal?”
“I might have.” Matheson glanced away. Normally, he would rejoice in having hurt Uncle Hertz, even if it meant receiving four times the amount of pain he’d dished out. However, this time, his attack had had unintended consequences.
“What did you do?” Her voice was sharp.
A breath of frustration huffed out of his nostrils. “He worked out that I hadn’t consummated my union with Marigold and that Berrin is her true mate. Now he’s threatening to clip his wings.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth. “What happened?”
Matheson stared at the marble floor. The guilt of having allowed Uncle to steal Marigold out from under his protection throbbed like a fresh wound, and Nanny’s sour scolding would sting. She tapped her foot, the sound echoing in the hallway and merging with the ticking of the grandfather clock.
A weary breath billowed out of his lungs. Nanny would only follow him around until she had extracted every detail. The sooner he told her, the sooner she would give him a reprimand and go away. In one rush of breath, he told her everything.
“How could you have been so foolish as to alert him?” she screeched. “Now he has everything he needs to lure the young mistress into sacrificing herself.”
Matheson bowed his head and hunched his shoulders. “How was I supposed to know he would work it out?”
“The same way anyone who isn’t a simpleton doesn’t start a fight he can’t win!” She rested her balled fists on her hips. “It’s time to take ownership for your actions. You’re not a little fledgeling now, you’re an heir on the cusp of Lordship with a family to protect.”
“I know.” He jerked his head away.
“I don’t think you do.” She stalked up to him, face hard as stone. “I hope it doesn’t take another tragedy for you to finally grow up.”
The words hit him like a blow to the gut, and his breath caught. “Nanny!”
“Coddling doesn’t work with you, nor does scolding. Maybe seeing the consequences of your mistakes will make you wake up and start taking responsibility!” She placed the vial in his palm, and with a swish of her skirts, she turned and headed for the kitchens.
Matheson’s heart sank deeper with each of her footsteps. Nanny was supposed to be on his side. Even when Mother and Father had taken to ignoring his excesses, her unconditional but tough love had bolstered him through the years, giving him hope that he might find a way out of the fog of depression. Hearing those words while sober made him feel like the progress he had made in the past few days counted for nothing. If he was going to regain the respect of his family, he would need to outsmart Uncle Hertz and those who supported him.
He entered the dining room, which had been laid out for lunch. A large, steaming tureen of beef stew sat on the end of the table, its aroma making his mouth water. After taking his elixir with a quick meal, he penned two letters to dragons he thought would help his case against Uncle Hertz. He headed towards Father’s study, but Marigold’s lusty cries seeped into the hallway. Shaking his head at her selective ability to forgive, he turned around and exited the mansion through the front doors.
A warm, afternoon breeze meandered around the courtyard, and he squinted against the sun. Sticking his fingers under his tongue, he whistled for Blacksmith. The griffin glided down from the roof and bowed his head.
“I have three tasks. Could two of your children send these messages?”
The griffin bobbed his eagle head and then let out a questioning squall, as though to ask the nature of the third task.
“I also need a group of you to visit Judge Embers.” In as much detail as he could, he explained to the griffin exactly what he needed to have done.
As soon as he was sure that Blacksmith understood his instructions, he headed back through the double doors to get ready for his trial. Ordinarily, he would have asked Polaris to come along and give him support, but Nanny’s words rattled around in his head. Previous comments she’d made about his reluctance to lead the family added to his sense of helplessness, and he resolved to be a better dragon.
Balling his fists, he headed towards the stairs, his gaze fixed on their first ancestor, Prince Auburn. He had been the youngest of the four dragons of Igneous, but by no means the least powerful. After what he would do today, nobody would ever look upon him with disappointment or pity.
Hours later, he stopped the cabriolet opposite the Crown Court. The setting sun illuminated the limestone building like a veneer of gold, in stark contrast to the pink cherry blossoms lining both sides of the Rex Boulevard. He sucked in a deep breath, noting the odd scent of smoke in the air.
Shaking away his curiosity he jumped out from the driver’s seat. None of the human ushers were in attendance this evening, but a pair of male bear shifter stood outside the double doors. Clutching the leather dossier, he crossed the empty road with as much noble bearing as he could muster.
“Good Afternoon, Lord Dragon,” said the taller bear, a white haired shifter whose thick, ash-colored eyebrows filled his forehead. Like many of his species, he towered over Matheson.
“Governor Hertz has scheduled a trial today,” he replied.
“And you are?”
“His nephew, Matheson Auburn.”
The bear stepped aside. “The trial will take place in Courtroom Four.”
Matheson inclined his head and entered the white, valenstone hallway, checking each of the mahogany doors he passed. A single door on the right was labelled Courtroom Four, so he pushed it open and entered.
It was a smaller space than the previous courtroom, with mahogany paneling on its walls. At the far end was the judge’s bench, situated between the witness stand and the court reporter’s table. It was a smaller version of the elevated podium with a wooden, high-backed chair instead of a throne.
Uncle Hertz sat at the defendant’s table, dressed in a pink frock coat and a matching wig. He sat next to his advocate, an unshaven
wolf shifter clad in an oversized black jacket. In the spectator seats lounged a half a dozen noblemen and their escorts, most of whom Matheson recognized from the ball. Uncle Hertz blew a kiss at the observers, and Matheson curled his lip. The wretch had probably invited them to witness his victory over his nephews.
The black-haired bear shifter with the braided beard he and Polaris had encountered a few days ago dozed in the corner. Once Matheson had seated himself at the prosecutor’s table, the clerk yawned and strolled into the middle of the room. “All rise for Judge Fervens.”
“What?” Uncle snapped. “Where’s Embers?”
The bear rubbed the back of his neck. “He excused himself from court, due to a series of incidents at his home earlier in the day.”
A door opened, and Judge Fervens, the amiable, green-haired dragon Matheson had met at the ball entered and sat in the judge’s chair. Matheson clamped his lips together to hold back a smirk, silently congratulating Blacksmith for carrying out an act of mass vandalism.
Uncle Hertz shot to his feet. “This trial cannot take place!”
Judge Fervens slammed the gavel on its base. “Silence, unless you wish me to hold you in contempt of court!”
Matheson straightened, imagining a dozen horses stampeding through the grounds of Judge Embers’ home, damaging property and refusing to return to their stables. With no servants working in the holiday, Judge Embers would have to take charge of the situation himself, calm the beasts, and clear up the mess. Like most dragons, the judge would blame the incident on the curse that befell those who worked during Festival Week.
“I’ve had time to review the preliminary documents.” The judge leaned forward in his seat, his brows forming a concerned V. “And I fail to understand why my esteemed colleague awarded you control of the Auburn estate when it is clear that your father struck you off from the family register decades ago.”
“My father was not of sound mind during his later years…” The jewels on Uncle Hertz’ rings glinted in the gaslights as he wrung his hands. “Extensive use of papaver caused him to become willful and irrational.”
Scandalized chatter broke out among the spectators, and Matheson narrowed his eyes. That was an obvious lie. If Grandfather had been indulging in papaver, he would never have chastised Uncle Hertz for doing the same.
The judge’s lips thinned. “Do you have any evidence of this?”
Uncle Hertz whispered to his advocate, who produced a sheet of parchment. He slid it across the table to the bear-shifter clerk, who sniffed it before passing it onto Judge Fervens.
“A receipt from the Papaver Palace for services rendered.” The judge’s voice was flat. “This is your evidence?”
Matheson balled his fists at the reminder of Magnus Rex. It didn’t surprise him to discover that the wretched half-blood had forged this document to help Uncle Hertz win this case. But the notion made his blood boil. Magnus Rex had been destroying dragons’ lives for decades with his brute-strength papaver and exorbitant interest rates. Although many, like Matheson, had entered the premises of their own free will, there were others who had been surreptitiously poisoned over a period of time by papaver.
Like Mother and Father.
“Your honor.” Uncle Hertz’ advocate stood. “I believe that the receipt demonstrates that the late Lord Auburn imbibed—”
“I’m well aware of the intentions of providing this…” Nose wrinkling, Judge Fervens waved the parchment. “Document. However, as an associate of the Auburn family, and in particular, the dragon in question, I can certify that there was nothing wrong with his mental faculty at the time he drew up the will.”
“Then I object on the grounds of a conflict of interest!” cried the advocate.
“Overruled.” The judge shook his head. “I cannot see anything in Judge Embers’ ruling that gives grounds for overturning the will. However, the reasons given for striking the defendant from the family register are more than valid.”
Uncle Hertz banged his fists on the defendant’s table. “Whatever you have, it’s a forgery!”
A feeling of calm swept over Matheson like a cool breeze. For the first time in three years, he felt a semblance of control over his situation. He stood, and in measured tones, asked, “May I call my first witness? Lord Strato, the secretary to King Vulcan.”
“He has nothing to do with this!” screeched Uncle Hertz.
Matheson raised his brows, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smile. Seeing the engineer of his parents’ murder in such a distressed state was even more satisfying than causing him pain.
The courtroom clerk opened the door adjacent to the one leading to the judge’s chambers and let in a tall dragon with closely cropped blonde hair and a beard shaped like a candle flame. Clad in a ruby red jacket and black breeches, he strode into the courtroom with the air of a dragon who knew his own importance.
“Please state your name and occupation for the court,” said the clerk.
“Bryning Strato, and I am the secretary of King Vulcan.”
Matheson leaned forward. “How long have you been in that role, Sir?”
His chest puffed out. “A century.”
“Court clerk, could you please hand Lord Strato these documents?” Matheson pushed forward Grandfather’s letters.
The bear shifter lumbered across from the witness box and brought the parchments over to the King’s Secretary, who scanned their contents. Matheson nodded to himself. This was going extremely well so far. “Do you recognize these?”
“I do.” He handed them to the clerk, who in turn, gave them to the judge. “This is correspondence I exchanged with the late Lord Auburn about his son’s role in the magical disaster in Chrysos.”
Uncle Hertz choked and whispered furiously into the ear of his advocate. “Objection,” snapped the wolf shifter, his eyes flashing. “These bearings are not related to my client’s case.”
The judge skimmed the papers. “Please recount the incident in your own words, and its relevance to proceedings.”
“The late Lord Auburn—Governor Hertz’ father—informed me that his eldest son had brokered an assassination attempt on the life of Queen Imelda, the wife of the late King Hydrus.”
Shocked gasps filled the courtroom. Matheson nodded. Old King Hydrus was a well-loved monarch who had married a much younger she-dragon when his wife had died. “Why did Grandfather write to you about this?”
“He was concerned about war breaking out between our nations,” replied the King’s secretary. “Although Chrysos is an island and doesn’t have the population or land mass as Igneous, it has at least ten times the wealth. The late Lord Auburn wanted to inform the royal court of the potential danger and still maintain the family’s standing.”
Matheson glanced at Uncle Hertz, who wiped sweat from the brow of his pasty face. Satisfaction filled his chest, and he steepled his fingers, enjoying the sight of the smug dragon’s distress. He turned back to the King’s Secretary. “How did you resolve the issue?”
“Your grandfather agreed to strike Hertz from the family register for his actions, and I arranged for him to be banished to Boreas.”
Judge Embers furrowed his brow. “Why such a light punishment?”
The King’s Secretary rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with the judge. “At the time, we believed that our wizards could break the magical bubble, or that it would burst on its own.”
“And nearly twenty years on, the citizens of Chrysos are still trapped,” snarled the Judge.
“Not to mention Princess Fornax and her family,” added Matheson.
Judge Fervens turned to the King’s Secretary. “Thank you, Bryning. You will be recalled for a future trial.”
The King’s Secretary stepped down from the witness box and headed for the exit. As he passed the clerk, he tripped and stumbled several steps, nearly falling on his face. The people sitting in the spectator seats gasped.
Matheson leaned forward. “Are you all right, Sir?”
The clerk helped him up, pulled out a handkerchief from his sleeve, and dusted off the knees of Lord Strato’s black breeches.
“I will live.”
By the time Matheson turned around to gloat at Uncle Hertz, all that was left of the dragon was a gaudy pink jacket and matching wig. He clenched his teeth. How had that wretch escaped?
Judge Fervens snarled. “I want Governor Hertz found and detained on suspicion of treason, and arrest that bear for abetting his escape!”
Chapter 6
Marigold slumped on Polaris’ shoulder, spent. He had moved them to the sofa, and she sat straddled on his lap with her legs wrapped around his hips. He rubbed her back in rhythmic movements, lulling her into a state of deep relaxation. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, the first of which was how soon Berrin would be transferred to the King’s Regiment. But her eyelids became heavy, and a swirl of drowsiness kept trying to pull her into a deep sleep. After struggling against her fatigue, she let her eyes flutter shut.
When she opened them, it was to find herself sitting on a patchwork quilt in a familiar jail cell. She scratched her head, wondering if this was a dream or a new ability she’d gained from having bonded with Polaris. At the end of the cell, Berrin bent over a straw basket.
“Berrin?”
His head snapped up and turned to the bars. When he didn’t find her in the stone hallway, he whirled around to the bed and gaped. “Mari, what are you doing here? And what happened to your clothes?”
“Umm…” She rubbed the back of her head. “I don’t know. One minute, I was falling asleep in the study, and the next, I woke up on your bed.”
He rushed over to grab at her, but his hand went through her arm. Furrowing his brows, he examined his fingers. “Do you think this is related to what you did last night?”