by K.N. Lee
She and Perdan were across from Elian, Siddhe, and Gavin, as two hired coachmen drove them from Kabrick. Two days of having to look Feyda in the eyes as she silently gloated over having captured him were practically unbearable.
Siddhe rested her head on his shoulder, her soft snores filling the silence inside the coach as the horses trotted along the stone walkway that led to a large manor in the Harrow countryside.
“Why are we stopping?” Elian asked, not that it mattered. But, the road to Withrae was straightforward and his plan was to obtain his daughter and return to the Red Dragon. Whatever detour Feyda had planned was a waste of time.
Feyda sighed, but reserved her disdain for him as she continued writing notes in her magic journal.
If only he could get his hands on it and see the multitude of schemes she had documented on those ancient pages.
“This manor belongs to the Duke of Harrow,” Feyda said. She looked up from her journal for a moment to meet his gaze. “He’s Rowen’s father. There’s a chance Rickard and Rowen have stopped here on their way to Withrae.”
Rowen’s father?
He sat up, awakening Siddhe, and looked out the carriage window to the sprawling estate built of white stone. Tall trees stood on either side of the path and led to a tall black gate. Inside the gates were expertly manicured grounds of lush green grass and patches of white flowers lining the main road.
“They could still be here,” she said.
“Where are we?” Siddhe asked. “I smell the sea.”
“We are in Harrow. A sea port,” Perdan said.
She clutched Elian’s leg. He knew just how much she yearned for a taste of her birthplace. The vast sea was her sanctuary, and he’d kept her from it for far too long.
He patted her leg and glanced at her. “Soon,” he whispered and she gave a silent nod.
The gates opened for them, and Elian wondered if they were expected. The carriage drove down the road to a large pool of water set with two statues of dragons. It pulled into the courtyard before the manor, and one of the coachmen opened the door. First, he helped Feyda out onto the stone pavement. She smoothed her green frock and checked her hair for fallen strays.
The pain was too great for Elian to exit the carriage on his own. Gavin stepped out first and helped him out. Siddhe, partially revived from her frequent salt baths at the Purple Blunderbuck gave her enough energy to take the young man’s hand and hop to the ground. There was color back in her dark skin and her eyes had a glow that had dimmed to a frightening deathly look prior to reaching the inn. She stepped forward and placed her hands on her hips as she marveled at the manor before her.
“Bloody waste of space,” she said.
Elian quirked a grin. “This is where the rich folk live, Siddhe. Don’t you still want to be a wealthy woman?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I’d rather spend my coin elsewhere. Not on a bloated house such as this.”
“Enough out of you two,” Feyda warned. “Show some respect.”
“This way, miss,” the butler called from the entrance. He bowed and held the door open for them to enter. Once everyone was inside the dark foyer only lit by scant traces of sunlight coming in from the tall floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the door. He closed the door and walked ahead. “I’ll take you to the sitting room.”
The older man, walked with his head held high, leading them not too far from the foyer to a large room with elegant furnishings and a view of the pond just outside the manor.
Elian and Siddhe stepped to the window and looked out to the calm water. He couldn’t tell her that his heart raced in his chest as he prepared to meet the man who the woman he’d loved had left him for.
“The Duke will be with you, shortly,” the butler said and left them room, closing the double doors.
“Now, this is living,” Gavin said, sitting on one of the plush chairs and putting his feet on the ottoman. He clapped his hands. “Where’s my wine?”
Elian rolled his eyes at Gavin’s wide grin.
Perdan sat beside Gavin and joined in on the fun. He clapped his hands. “And sweets. Yes, we must have sweets as well.”
Gavin gave one look to Feyda and removed his feet and sat up straight. “Sorry, miss,” he said, avoiding her disapproving gaze.
Perdan did the same.
“Like children, they are,” Elian said to Feyda.
She shrugged. “At least mine isn’t a thieving pirate.”
“Well, neither am I,” Gavin said. “I’m a scribe.”
Feyda raised a brow. “Oh, yes. That explains it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gavin asked, furrowing his brows.
The doors opened before Feyda could reply, and in stepped an older gentleman of average height. With black hair and silver strands at his ears, he could easily have been a solid decade older than Elian. He wasn’t handsome, but he did have an air about him. The man commanded attention. Perhaps it was the way he entered the room with a slight grimace on his face. Or, the way his blue eyes went directly to Elian’s as if he knew exactly who he was.
Yes. Elian was certain of it. He did not like the Duke of Harrow.
“What’s all of this?” The Duke asked Feyda.
She cleared her throat. “We’ve come to see if Prince Rickard has stopped here on his way to Withrae.”
The Duke began to speak when the doors opened once again.
Everyone turned to behold the beauty who stepped into the room. She hadn’t aged a day. Her dark wavy hair was as lustrous as the last day he ran his hands through it and kissed her good morning.
“Nimah,” Elian gasped, despite the lump in his throat. He barely noticed that he had uttered her name allowed, or the way Siddhe looked at him as he left her side to step forward to the first and only woman to break his head.
She looked at him with widened eyes that sparkled with fresh tears. “Elian.”
He restrained himself. All he wanted was to rush to her and gather her into his arms.
“Oh,” The Duke said, stroking his short beard. “This is the infamous Captain Elian Westin.”
Elian shot a glare. “You’ve heard of me, then. I’d suggest you choose your next words wisely.”
A low chuckle came from the Duke as he crossed the room to slip his arm around Nimah’s waist. He whispered something to her that made her suck in a breath and dab her eyes with her fingers.
Elian’s eyes stared at how tightly he held onto Nimah, and his blood heated with rage.
The tips of his fingers tingled with power, and his heart thumped loudly in his chest.
He was overdue for a soul, and the Duke’s was ripe for the picking.
“Prince Rickard hasn’t been here for a week,” The Duke said.
Nimah’s face paled.
“You see, my wife thinks I don’t notice everything that goes on in my home. I know all about her secret exploits with the prince, and I welcome it,” he said. “Since my beloved daughter failed us, my wife has used her charms to put us back in favor with the royal family.”
Elian wasn’t sure he liked the way he said beloved daughter as if it were poison on his tongue. He knew the kind of man the Duke was all too well.
Entitled. Arrogant. Cruel.
“Now,” The Duke said, turning to Feyda. “How’s a shady merchant like you involved with all of this?”
Elian could tell that Feyda bit her tongue to keep her snarky retorts at bay. She put on a fake smile and controlled her tone.
“I am in the Prince’s employ.”
The Duke raised a brow. “Well, then, you’re now in mine as well. I’ll be joining you on your trip to Withrae. Trouble is brewing in the capital city, and I want to be there when everything comes to a boil.”
Elian seethed as he watched the Duke leave the room with Nimah in tow. She glanced over her shoulder once more at him, her eyes pleading.
His mind was set.
The Duke’s soul was his.
Chapter 17
Elian couldn’t eat. There was a hollowness inside he hadn’t felt in many years.
While Siddhe and Gavin feasted on the provisions the Duke’s kitchen had provided, he stared off into the fire in the corner of the room. They were prisoners, kept locked in a room in the servant’s quarters, and all Elian could think about was the look on Nimah’s face when she saw him.
Did she not age at all since he last saw her? The years had been hard on him in comparison. Sun had weathered his face, and age had taken its toll on his body. But, Nimah was still a young woman of twenty, fresh-faced and ready to explore the world at his side.
He drank the last of the ale in his mug and folded his arms across his chest.
Siddhe and Gavin whispered at the table, while he rocked in a chair across from the fire. She hadn’t looked at him favorably since his apparent display of affection for Nimah earlier, and there was nothing he could do about that. Admitting that Nimah had torn his heart into pieces when she left him was what he was left mulling over.
Her parents had been adamant about her staying away from him in their youth. His hate for them would never fade, and it seemed his love for Nimah would linger until the day he died.
“You think the Duke knows you’re Rowen’s real father?” Gavin asked.
Elian placed a finger to his lips, not bothering to tear his eyes from the fire that seemed to dance and sway just for him. “Keep your voice down. You never know who is listening or spying.”
“Right, Captain,” Gavin said, and stood from his chair. He crossed the room, and pulled a crate of woolen blankets next to Elian. He warmed his hands. “I never thought I’d meet the man who ruined Rowen’s life.”
Elian lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”
Shaking his head, Gavin grimaced at the fire as he thought. “Back on the ship, Rowen told me all about the Duke. He forced her to venture off to the palace as a lady-in-waiting. It was his idea to use her to seduce the crown prince, not her own.”
Elian wasn’t surprised. The fact that the Duke wanted to be in the midst of the chaos in Withrae told him that he was an ambitious man. Ambitious to a fault. He’d use anyone he could to elevate his standing.
“Now that he and Rowen’s mother are coming along on the journey to Withrae, this changes things a bit. Don’t you think?”
Shrugging, Elian’s eyes narrowed. “Not really,” he said, looking to Gavin. “It just adds one more kill to my ever-growing list.”
***
The following morning, Elian and the others waited outside in the courtyard as the Duke and a few of his men prepared for the journey to Withrae. They wore their crests and weapons, and Elian realized he still didn’t understand Dragon magic and how they could shift into beasts to return to their human forms fully clothed.
Elian took a step back as they all shifted into their Dragon forms and formed an impressive Dragon riding squad. The Duke of Harrow and Nimah flew at the front, while the humans rode in the caboose, a covered coach pulled by four Dragons, two at the front and two at the back.
Siddhe held onto Gavin’s arm as they rose into the sky. Elian looked down at her hand and how she intentionally chose Gavin over him. Her eyes were widened as they took to the skies and began over Harrow toward the mountainous kingdom of Withrae.
He peered ahead at Nimah as they ascended toward the clouds. He’d never seen her in her Dragon form despite all their time together, and marveled at her beauty. White, with silver and scarlet scales, she appeared to be even more powerful than the Duke at her side. How she allowed herself to be subservient to that man was beyond Elian. She soared along the wind, her wings graceful and glittering beneath the sun.
If only he had a chance to talk to her in private, there was so much that he would say.
“We’ll be there within hours,” Feyda said, and it seems the prince will as well.
Elian looked back at her. “How do you know?”
The corners of her mouth lifted into a smug smile as she nodded to her journal. “How do you think the prince and I communicate?”
“Blood brilliant,” Gavin said. “A magic journal that allows you to exchange messages. I’m going to need to get one of those.”
She chuckled. “You’ll be hard-pressed to find one, boy. I made the set Prince Rickard and I use.”
“Then, I’ll pay you handsomely for one,” Gavin replied.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Where we’re going, you’ll all be thrown into the dungeon by night’s end.”
Elian tensed. So, that was the plan. For the first time since their arrival at the Duke of Harrow’s manor, he could feel Siddhe’s eyes on him. This time, he couldn’t look at her. And, he wouldn’t, not until he was certain he could get them out of this.
Chapter 18
The flight to Withrae was much faster than Rowen anticipated. Hours rolled by, as did the changing landscape below. From the mountains of the Wastelands, to the lush forests of Kabrick, and the inlets and meadows of Harrow, she viewed them all from the sky.
If she had been in a carriage, it would have taken her days. But, with Rickard at her side, showing her the best route, they arrived within less than a day. Tired, and thirsty, she landed beside him and shifted back into her human form.
Dressed in a black gown from another century, she bent over and held onto her knees, catching her breath. She wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball on the grassy plain that sprawled for miles on either side. She wanted rest, but Rickard clearly looked as though he could press on.
“Tired?”
She nodded. “That was intense.”
Rickard rubbed her back. “You’ll get used to it. I’m guessing you aren’t too keen on physical exercise.”
Rowen stood and pushed her hair away from her face. “Not until I started running for my life.”
He grinned. “You’ve become quite good at that.”
She inhaled a long breath to calm the burning in her lungs and looked toward the mountains in the horizon. “I never thought I’d see the Withrae Mountains again. It’s surreal to be back when all I wanted was to get as far away from here as possible.”
He slid his arm around her waist. Any other day, she would have shoved him off her. Today, she moved closer and enjoyed the feel of his touch. He smelled of rain and trees, and of the wilderness. It was a smell she never wanted to fade.
“You are meant to be here, Rowen. There is something inside of you that is more powerful than the world has seen in a long time.”
She turned her head and looked up to him. “How do you know so much?”
Shrugging, he looked down at her, marveling at the magic that danced in her eyes every time he looked at her. How could anyone miss it? She was a vision.
“You think I spend my days womanizing and getting into mischief,” he said.
She had to admit, that was exactly what she’d always thought.
“No, Rowen. Everyone plays their role and wears a mask. Your mask hides just how brilliant you are, and what emotions and feelings you truly feel. I noticed that the day I met you,” he said. “My mask keeps me safe from scrutiny and suspicion. I’ve been reading and studying the ancient texts since I was just a boy.”
That was surprising. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of a young Prince Rickard down in the vaults with smudged ink on his nose while he read from old scrolls.
“I would never have guessed,” she said.
“Good. That was the plan. No one ever suspected, and that’s the way I wanted it.”
“I admit, I always thought you were a cocky bastard.”
He stepped before her and leaned close to her face, close enough for a kiss. “Are you saying you no longer believe that?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, wishing he’d come just a bit closer. “I’m still deciding.”
He stood tall and tilted his head, listening. “I hear water,” he said. “I saw a river not too far from here.
Cheated of her kiss, she nodded and fo
llowed him as he set off. Together, they left the open field to a river that cut through the meadow to the forest.
Purple weeds jutted up from the grass and lined the thin river. Crystal clear water rushed over dark stones and at that moment she had never seen anything sweeter. She grabbed the hem of her dress and held it above her knees while she knelt at the river bank. Cupping her hands, she drank from the cool water while Rickard did the same.
Once satisfied, she sat on a smooth rock and ran through the tangles of her hair with her fingers. Once free of tangles, she braided the blonde locks into a single braid.
“So,” she said, while Rickard chewed the stem of a wild weed. “What’s the plan?”
“I take the throne, set things right in Withrae and secure the peace with the humans and the Dragons,” he began. “And, make you my queen.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Who says I want to be your queen?”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Who says you have a choice? It’s written in the prophecies. I assure you.”
Her eyes widened. “Is it really?”
His laugh diffused her bafflement. “No, silly. But, it should be.”
She laughed and shook her head at him. “It’s hard to tell when you’re lying and when you’re honest.”
“You’re a smart girl, Rowen. I trust you’ll learn the difference between my innocent jests and when I’m being serious.”
“Will I?”
“Of course,” he said. “You’re bound to learn as we spend our lives together.”
She sighed. “I wish it were that easy.”
“It’s as easy as you make it,” he said, and sat in front of her. She watched him take her hands into his and gaze at her. “All you have to do is say yes. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Looking into his eyes was torture when all she ended up wanting was for him to hold her close and kiss her. She swallowed, realizing that that was the way she’d felt since the day she met him. She made herself hate him, so that she could open her heart to Lawson, and still, she could never deny the intense pull she had to Rickard. Knowing the truth about Lawson was heartbreaking. It was also freeing. Could she truly free her heart and allow it to let Rickard in?