by Delia Castel
She nodded. “He keeps forgetting things and exploding into fits of temper. We thought it was because Mother had died, but it got worse after he remarried.” She pulled the goldbread out of the oven, releasing a medley of spicy aromas. “The day before the attack, I had called an outside physician to examine him, but I had to leave when the chambermaids accused me of murdering Father.”
Marigold narrowed her eyes and shared a suspicious glance with Polaris. It looked like the wolf shifters of the Assassin’s Guild who had helped Governor Hertz spirit her away were also trying to kill the King or at least frame Princess Snowdrop to get her executed.
The Princess stopped talking, and Marigold helped her prepare a pot of tea. They served the hot drink in a mix of wooden mugs and ceramic goblets, and Princess Snowdrop sliced the goldbread. They all sat around the table, with two of the dragons standing to the side, trying to look menacing.
Polaris cleared his throat. “His Majesty wishes me to bring you back and have you mated to the strongest dragons for protection.”
Marigold’s mind went blank, and she gulped a mouthful of scalding tea.
The Princess’s cheeks pinked. “Actually, these are my mates.”
“All of them?” Marigold gaped at the seven dragons, who straightened at Princess Snowdrop’s words.
She ducked her head and smiled. “Four of them so far. I’m still working my way through the brothers. Once I’ve mated with the seventh, I’ll come into my powers. Then I’ll be able to protect myself.”
Marigold stared into her tea. Princess Snowdrop was moving faster than her. It wasn’t a competition, but they were both in trouble, and the other she-dragon seemed to be making a huge effort to increase her own strength. Her thoughts drifted to Matheson. That dragon was a mystery to her. While she was assured he wasn’t working with Governor Hertz, he had let her down at the ball. Polaris and Berrin would never have left her out of their sights.
Polaris stood. “I will inform my superiors of your situation.”
“But not our location,” said the white-haired dragon.
“That will remain a secret until we have cleansed the corruption in the palace.” Polaris gave a final bow and held out his hand for Marigold. “Your Highness, it is truly encouraging to see that you are healthy and well-guarded. Your mates’ combined attack is strong enough to deter any group of foes.”
Marigold shot to her feet, gave the Princess a quick curtsey, and left the cottage with Polaris. As she reached the door, she spared the delicate-looking she-dragon one last glance. How could she cope with seven dragons, when three was more than enough?
The sun was well behind the horizon by the time they flew over familiar ground, and the sky was awash with crimson. Marigold slumped on Polaris’ back, enjoying his warm, sulfur scent. After having checked in with Berrin, she felt ready for a good night’s sleep. Stifling a yawn, she inhaled a mouthful of sweet smoke.
She glanced down and found a vast field on fire. In the middle stood an old-fashioned stone fortress. Half a dozen people were trying to douse the flames with small buckets, which she found strange, since the fire looked like it had been raging for some time. She cast her gaze down the road. There was no sign of a fire brigade. Even a backwater like Boreas had one. With bear shifters cutting corners in their mead distilleries and not taking care of their human staff, there were always massive fires in need of dousing. A warm, dry district such as Austellus should have had a relevant voluntary or government department.
A gust of wind blew smoke in her eyes, and she kept them closed until Polaris landed. Nanny rushed out, eyes narrowed and flanked by her sons, who each carried broadswords.
The older woman relaxed. “Oh, it’s you.”
Polaris transformed and set Marigold on her feet. “Were you expecting anyone else?”
“Not especially. We’ve all been out to see Berrin.”
Marigold furrowed her brow. Berrin had been alone in his cell the last times she had visited. Grabbing Polaris’ hand, she pulled him toward the mansion. She would speak to him about Nanny’s suspicious behavior in private.
The patio doors opened, and Matheson poked his head out. “You’re back. I have so much to share with you.”
They stepped through to the leather-scented study. Matheson grinned. “What would you like to hear about first?”
“We already know everything you told Berrin,” said Polaris.
He raised his brows. “Is that where you’ve been?”
Marigold glanced at Polaris. “Not exactly. I can connect with him, and he told me about Governor Hertz. Why did Nanny say you were all with Berrin, when you weren’t?”
Polaris lowered himself onto the sofa and placed her on his lap. “More importantly, why do you smell of fire and papaver?”
Marigold’s stomach dropped. She had thought Matheson had been magically purged, just as Dr. Squamatus had done to her to get rid of Governor Hertz’ awful elixir. She turned her gaze to Polaris, who smirked at his brother as though sharing a private joke.
“You can still smell it?” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’d better take another bath.”
Polaris chuckled. “Use a mixture of flowery scents. They’ll confuse anyone’s nose.”
Realization dropped. “T-that burning building we passed was Papaver Palace!”
“It was.” Matheson folded his arms and beamed. “The likes of Magnus Rex are destroying our species. I thought about how I became addicted, what it had done to Mother and Father, and I couldn’t let the establishment stand.”
Polaris whistled. “How did you do it?”
“Blacksmith wanted to avenge Mother and Father.”
“What about the people inside the building?” she asked.
“The King’s Regiment raided it in search for Uncle Hertz,” replied Matheson. “They took everyone, including Magnus Rex, to their headquarters on suspicion of harboring or concealing the whereabouts of a fugitive accused of treason. After the evacuation, the five of us and the griffins set to work.”
Marigold chewed her lip. This was a completely different side of Matheson. She hadn’t thought him capable of doing anything except for being loud and obnoxious. “Why didn’t anyone come to put out the fire?”
“Magnus Rex doesn’t allow government officials in his stronghold, so the fire brigade didn’t even try. Everyone knows someone affected by papaver, and most despise the wretch for developing something so addictive.”
Polaris laughed. “Well done, little brother!”
The corner of Matheson’s lip curved into a shy smile, and he ducked his head to conceal a blush. “Actually… last night, I did some research. Marigold, I hope you don’t mind that I looked at the rubbings Polaris took of your bracelet.”
Her heart thudded. “Did you discover anything?”
“Only about your mother’s side of the family, and the news isn’t good.”
Her breath caught. “I’m part of that house marked for death.”
“Nothing like that.” He held up the rubbings and pointed at the herald animals. “These all signify that you’re a member of the House of Caeli.”
Polaris’ arms tightened around her middle. “Marigold is related to King Basileus?”
She furrowed her brow. That name sounded familiar. Hadn’t Dr. Squamatus mentioned that he was the father of Princess Snowdrop’s mother, Queen Reina and the last pure-blooded spirit dragon?
“That’s right,” replied Matheson. “He had two daughters: Reina, with his mate, and Gilda, with his sorceress concubine.”
Marigold clasped her hands. “Was my mother Princess Gilda?”
He nodded. “The bracelet also carries the runes for the Ambrosius family of sorcerers. Your mother was a very unique individual, as she was both a powerful sorcerer and a half-blooded spirit dragon.”
“Oh.” She swallowed. “Are any of my mother’s relatives still alive?”
“That’s part of the bad news.” Sympathy shone in his eyes. “The great earthquake of
Festum shattered the island, killing most of its inhabitants. The King had already sent Princess Reina away to be betrothed to King Vulcan and his brothers. I can only assume he did the same with your mother.”
Marigold’s throat dried. Despite Polaris’ strong arms around her, a pit of dread formed in her chest. She wanted to know the story of her mother. She even knew how it ended, but something inside her resisted. Perhaps it was the suspicion that everyone had forgotten about poor Princess Gilda because she wasn’t a pure-blooded dragon. Despite this, she felt herself forming the words, “D-do you know where she went?”
Matheson shook his head. “There were no records of what happened to your mother. According to history, she perished in the earthquake, but she obviously survived to give birth to you in Boreas.”
Gratitude swelled in her chest, and tears filled her eyes. “Thank you. I-it means a lot to finally know.” She paused. “What I don’t understand is why she ended up dying alone in an orphanage.”
“I’m afraid dragons can be uncharitable to half-bloods, no matter their pedigree.” Polaris rubbed her back. “If she came to foreign shores without a betrothal to a dragon of importance, she would not have received the treatment a Princess deserves.”
“But we do know that your father was a dragon.” Matheson set down the rubbings. “You would not have been able to trigger Berrin’s transformation or have withstood the King’s Blessing otherwise.”
She pulled her lips into a smile, not understanding the ache in her heart. After years of wondering about the identity of her parents, she suddenly had some answers. So, why wasn’t she happy?
Matheson stood. “On the subject of displaced royalty, I have an errand that requires completion. I hope this gives you some measure of peace.”
She swallowed hard. “I-it does.. Thank you very much.”
He inclined his head and strolled to the study door. Marigold stared after him, not quite believing this change in personality. He had regained his inheritance from Governor Hertz, instigated an investigation for treason, burned down Papaver Palace and its surrounding poppy fields, and uncovered the mystery behind her mother’s bracelet. Princess Snowdrop’s words returned to the forefront of her mind. Perhaps the positive aspects of Matheson’s personality were resurfacing through the grief and addiction.
Polaris pressed a kiss on her temple. “It’s been a very long day. Let’s go to bed. I expect you have a lot to consider.”
Chapter 11
After another attempt to wash off the scent of burned papaver from his body, Matheson left the mansion and stepped into his chariot. If anyone would know the whereabouts of Uncle Hertz, it would be Ella’s stepmother, Lady Brimstone. Clenching the reins, he glared up at the blood-red haze covering the sky. According to Berrin, the she-dragon had tried to bite Polaris in half. If his older brother was too much of a gentleman to take vengeance on a female, Matheson would make her regret having trifled with his family.
As the chariot left the courtyard, Blacksmith swooped down and screeched. Matheson smirked. The former Princess had been a regular at the Papaver Palace and a close associate of its owner, Magnus Rex. He wondered how quickly news would spread to her. Now that her other paramour, Uncle Hertz, was under suspicion for treason, she was probably feeling less disposed towards his schemes.
The moon poked out from clouds the color of cold iron, casting its pale light on the magnolia trees that lined their road. Their sweet, citrusy scent, reminded him of Marigold. In the time she and Polaris had been away, their bond had deepened. She now seemed as comfortable with him as she was with Berrin. A twinge of longing pierced his heart, and he stared ahead into the cobbled road, trying not to dwell on yet another difference between him and his brothers.
“I’m a new dragon,” he muttered, paraphrasing words he had said to her days ago. They weren’t exactly true. These last two days felt like he was returning to the person he used to be before Kaida, before papaver, and before the murders.
While Mother and Father’s plight still cut like a dagger through the heart, he now had the wherewithal to channel his grief and anger where it really belonged: Uncle Hertz and his associates.
Marigold’s genuine expression of gratitude had warmed his heart. It had been him, and not Polaris or Berrin, who had discovered the identity of her mother. It would never compensate for having left her vulnerable in the palace ballroom. However, he hoped it would be their first step towards a friendship and perhaps more. His recent spate of failures had shown him that he still had a great amount of atonement for his mistakes, and when he captured Uncle Hertz, Marigold would at least have the freedom she deserved.
He pulled into Bellus Row, a part of Flourus, where the houses were rendered with red brick instead of limestone, and stopped outside the gates of the home covered in white, pear blossoms. Its garden held a fascinating array of plants, both herbal and medicinal. However, what struck his interest was the small clump of poppies growing among the hellebores. They were the exact strain of flower in the fields surrounding Papaver Palace. Matheson curled his lip and yanked off their heads. If this was Magnus Rex’s back up source, he would instruct all the swifts he could find to roam the country, destroying the plants.
After stuffing them in his pockets for later disposal, he knocked on the door, and in seconds, it swung open to reveal Lady Brimstone, clad in a black, silk dressing gown. Her face fell.
His eyes skimmed over the red lace visible where the gown gaped. “Were you expecting someone else, My Lady?”
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“I believe you invited me round for tea.”
Her face twisted into a rictus of distaste, and she spat, “That was when you were an eligible bachelor. I have no use for you now.”
“You may be interested in what I have learned about recent events surrounding the night of the palace ball.”
Clutching the edge of the door, she narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“My brother, the General, was viciously attacked by a she-dragon.” He paused, watching her stony face for any change of expression. When she didn’t react, he asked, “Do you know what the King’s Regiment does to dragons who attack their officers?”
“Why don’t you ask the guilty she-dragon? I am sure she will enlighten you.”
Matheson lifted a vial. “In all the excitement from last night, Polaris has not yet had the chance to submit the sample of blood he took from the guilty party.”
“Where did you get that?” she spat.
“The forensic wizards were kind enough to collect all traces of foreign blood clinging to his body.” He slipped it back into his pocket. “Apparently, the she-dragon suffered a grievous injury when he transformed in her jaws.”
Her lips thinned, and her nostrils flared. Had she been capable of breathing fire, the malice in her crimson eyes would have immolated him on the spot. He forced a level expression in the face of her glower. When he thought the silence would stretch out all evening, she said, “What do you want?”
“Information about my uncle.”
“You had better come in.” She stepped aside.
He followed her through a dark, musty hallway lined with the most hideous oil paintings of herself and her overdressed, horse-faced daughters and into a well-appointed parlor. Gold brocade sofas sat among an upright piano and carved, mahogany side tables. Gilded lamps provided illumination, their faceted shades causing the gold on the picture frames and candelabras to glint.
Perched on the sofa like two distorted dolls were her daughters. Dark ringlets framed their faces, held up by delicate, ivory combs. They wore the most exquisite silken dresses, but none of the finery could distract from their faces. Each had pretty enough features, which consisted of long-lashed eyes, high cheekbones, and well-shaped lips. However, each face bore a peculiarity that rendered it ugly. The one wearing purple had a snout ending in flared nostrils that reminded him of that of a horse, and her sister dressed in blue was afflicted wi
th teeth just as prominent.
“Furstinna, make the special tea for our guest.”
The eyes of the daughter in blue widened. “But Mama—”
“Do as I say.”
Matheson suppressed a snort. With the array of mind-altering herbs in the gardens, he could imagine the contents of the special tea. Raising his palm, he said, “There is no need…”
“I insist, My Lord,” she said through gritted teeth.
He smirked. It would seem that news about his triumph in court had reached Lady Brimstone’s household. It was no wonder the old she-dragon was looking more sour than usual. “Thank you… Furstinna, there is no need for tea. I already partook at home.”
Furstinna’s shoulders relaxed, and Matheson sighed. The she-dragon’s reluctance to poison him was proof that the entire household was not as corrupt as he had imagined. “Where’s Ella?”
“Out on errands.” Lady Brimstone snapped open her fan.
He raised a brow. “At such a late hour?”
Lady Brimstone sauntered to a mahogany cabinet next to the upright piano and opened its door. She pulled out two crystal goblets and a decanter of acid-green liquid. His stomach lurched, and his mouth turned as dry as parchment. It was distilled wormwood, and from the intensity of its color, a very good brand. She lifted the stopper from the decanter, releasing its dark, hypnotic scent. It filled his nostrils, permeated his mind and drew him closer, pulling every strand of his attention to that decanter. Matheson’s gulp echoed in his ears like thunder. What was wrong with him? Was he so weak to enter the home of an enemy and succumb to her temptation? From the saliva pooling in his mouth, the answer was yes.
Her eyes glimmered like crystallized blood. “Will you drink with me, My Lord?”
The malice in her smile broke the spell, and he coughed. “No, thank you.”
Despite his refusal, she poured two generous helpings and sauntered over to him.. The daughters’ eyes were as round as buttons, and they tracked their mother’s movement with their heads. Matheson stepped away, his heart thudding. It now occurred to him that he was in the lair of the villain who had tried to burn his brother alive and snap him in half in her jaws. There was nothing to stop her from doing so to him. She-dragons were stronger than males, although less agile. None of this mattered, because he had not yet reached his maturity. Compared to any fully-grown dragon, he was as weak as a human.