The Dragon Mate's Awakening (Dragongrove Book 3)

by Imogen Sera

  He thought hard. “Arnes. We’re in Arnes?” He looked up at the bossy woman.

  She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “Do you remember what you were doing? A month ago you went to Lord Renaud’s estate with the king.”

  It sounded… familiar. He couldn’t get Maggie out of his mind, though. He called her name again.

  “Oh my God,” the woman said impatiently. “Stop that! Maggie’s fine, but she’s not here. She stayed at her home. Do you remember that?”

  The memory hit him painfully over the head. Her husband. Bile rose in his gut, and his head dropped into his hands. He immediately wished he hadn’t remembered.

  “Are you alright?” the woman said gently, alarmed by his change in demeanor.

  He shook his head miserably.

  She watched him for a moment and bit her lip. “Stay here,” she said. “I’m going to get the physician.”

  He sat on the edge of his bed. His bed, he realized. He had awoken in his own room. His breathing slowed and evened. Maggie wasn’t here, and that knowledge poked at him, but then she hadn’t ever really been his. She was alright, he probably had a stack of letters from her waiting for him. A month. She must be so worried. He just needed to calm himself, to keep his wits, and then he would write to her straightaway, explaining himself.

  The physician checked him over, declared him healthy, and ordered him to rest. The redheaded woman, Vivian, had shook her head, confused, when he’d asked where his mail was.

  “Where are my brothers?” he asked.

  “The King is missing,” she said. “The Queen and Prince Tarquin have gone to find him. I’m assuming it’s good news that you and all of the guards are awake.”

  He laid down after that, frustrated at his inability to think straight. He couldn’t keep Maggie from his mind, couldn’t help but feel as if he’d abandoned her. He must have slept eventually, though, because he was awakened by a sharp knock on the door. A man stood there, one he supposed he should have recognized.

  “Prince Caelian,” the man acknowledged, nodding at him. “We’ve been busy searching Reis’s residences. All of our mail has been redirected to him, and has been for a long time. We’ve only just found this.” The man presented an envelope with familiar handwriting on the front.

  “This is for me?” he asked.

  “This is for you,” the man confirmed, and pulled out four more envelopes. “And these are letters you’ve sent, they never made it out of Arnes.”

  Caelian’s heart dropped. He nodded gratefully at the guard, who then turned and left him alone with his thoughts. Maggie hadn’t received any of the letters he’d written since he arrived. Four, one for each day he was here before his magically induced sleep. He tried to remember what he’d last written to her. He couldn’t remember if he’d told her that they were departing for Arnes. What if she thought he was dead? What if she assumed he no longer cared for her? The thought was unbearable.

  How had she managed to get a letter to him? She had no idea where he was, aside from the vague explanation he’d given her. He glanced down at the envelope and smiled to himself at how it was addressed.

  Prince Caelian

  Royal Residence

  Arnes

  Somehow it had made it to him. He tore it open, eagerly, needing to soothe himself with her words.

  Caelian,

  I need you as I never have before. I pray that you’re safe, although if you are I don’t know in what way I’ve offended you.

  Please come to me. I don’t expect anything from you, and I promise to let you go if that’s what you want, but please help me.

  I need you.

  I beg you.

  I miss you.

  Margaret

  His heart dropped into his stomach as he checked for a date. Two weeks before. She’d begged for his help nearly two weeks before, and he hadn’t been there for her. Just as bad, she assumed he didn’t care for her. He didn’t know why she needed to leave so suddenly, but he did know that he was leaving for her now.

  .....

  Caelian sat miserably at dinner, a celebratory one with their King home and safe. He’d tried to leave before, but had been decidedly unsteady on his legs. The physician had doubted his ability to fly until he was rested, and when he’d tried to shift despite the man’s warnings, he’d been unable to. It was there, still, just buried, so he’d resolved himself to eating and then sleeping, and leaving for his Maggie as soon as he possibly could.

  He’d announced his intentions to Helias who’d nodded grimly. “Tell me if you need assistance,” he said simply.

  Caelian had been slightly surprised by that, from his brother who was so bound by duty. Surely now that the kingdom was healing from it’s fracture, he would be needed to help mend relations and soothe anger. He saw the way his brother watched Ingrid, though, and it hit him that his brother understood being away from his mate, now. He wouldn’t force Caelian into that pain if he could help it.

  He ate as quickly as he could and rose from the table while it was still rude to do so. He stalked to his room without a backward glance, laid in his bed, and managed to sleep through sheer force of will.

  The next morning, he immediately went to the nearest open terrace to try to shift. He could, and he could hardly contain his joy in not only his ability to stretch his wings, but most importantly his ability to go to his mate. He left immediately, remembering at the last minute to bring his pants.

  He arrived in Haverbrook the next morning. He was the fastest of his brothers, and although he didn’t tire easily, he was exhausted when he did. He wanted to land in Maggie’s front yard and tear the roof off to find her, but he knew that he should assess the situation first, so he shifted away from town and stalked into it angrily, shirtless and formidable. He ignored the looks he received as he made his way directly to Maggie’s house.

  He knocked on the door, hard, and a moment later the same old man who’d greeted Maggie months before answered. His eyes widened upon seeing Caelian, but he didn’t seem to be recognize him.

  “Maggie,” Caelian growled, hardly able to contain his rage at coming back to this place. “Where is she?”

  “You must be looking for her for the reward,” the old man said, seeming unsure. “I promise if she was here, we would have no need to offer a reward.”

  The door closed in his face.

  She must have left, then, as she said she would in her letter. The thought of a reward for her return made him sick. She wasn’t a pet.

  He didn’t quite know what to do next. Would she attempt to go to Arnes? Where else could she go? She told him herself that she had one friend in the world, and she was right here in Haverbrook.

  A moment later he found himself stalking toward Juliette’s house, having memorized her address months before. A young girl answered the door and stared up at him, fear on her face. He took a deep breath, trying to reign in his anger.

  “I’m looking for Maggie,” he said, after a moment, “or Juliette. Or anyone who has any information.”

  “You must be Caelian,” she said in her girlish voice. “My sisters talk about you all the time. Come in.”

  He followed her awkwardly into the house, wishing that he’d not foregone a shirt in his haste. She gestured him to be seated on a small, floral couch, and then disappeared, promising to be back with tea and her sister.

  “Caelian,” he heard a quiet voice say, a moment later. A woman with long, stick straight blonde hair came around the corner, and looked over him serenely. “You’re taller than I imagined.”

  “Juliette?” he asked, and she nodded as she took a seat across from him. “Do you know where Maggie is?”

  “She was trying to find you,” the woman said. “She left a week ago. I don’t know how long it should take to get to wherever she was going, but she left on a horse.”

  A week on a horse sounded about right, assuming she’d gone the right way. “I’m going to find her,” he said, rising.

  “
Good,” said Juliette, “and please have her send word to me that she’s well.”

  Caelian nodded.

  The young girl came back into the room then, with a tray holding a pink teapot and several small teacups. He sat again, not wanting to be rude.

  “Elisabeth,” said Juliette, “he’s in a hurry. I don’t think he has time for tea.”

  He watched the girl’s face fall. “I am quite thirsty,” he said, smiling gently at her. He caught a flash of Juliette’s grin.

  They spoke of Maggie while he drank. She had been alright at first, after he’d left, and the letters seemed to energize her. After he’d stopped writing, however, she’d grown despondent quickly until it had festered into her being convinced she needed to leave.

  A small, auburn haired woman had entered the room at that point, and was gazing around the room strangely. “Juliette,” she said with a playful smile on her lips, “is he as handsome as Maggie was always carrying on about?”

  “More!” he heard shouted from the next room, “and Scarlett, he’s not wearing a shirt!” Hysterical giggling came from behind the door, but no one ever came through.

  He looked at the auburn haired woman, Scarlett, and saw that her eyes were cloudy. She was blind.

  He rose then. “Thank you for the tea, Elisabeth,” he said, turning his attention to Juliette, “and thank you for the information.”

  She waved it off and wished him luck, asking kindly if he had need of any supplies. He shrugged off her offer of help and strode from the house quickly, determined to find his Maggie.

  “Just our little mail problem,” the old man said and turned to his king. “It should be all right now that you’ve murdered my daughter.”

  Helias leveled a long stare at him. A lesser man would have withered under it, but Morwich stood straighter than usual. He stared back.

  The moment ended with Helias’s sigh. “It was hardly murder.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Maggie had traded a silver tea set for the use of a horse, and because of that she made much better time on her journey north than she had when she’d traveled south, with Caelian. She’d left in the morning, shortly after Bradley had disappeared for the day. She’d tiptoed down the hall, explained herself to her mother’s unresponsive form, and then kissed her goodbye. She’d taken Gerald aside, asked him to promise to care for her mother to the best of his ability, and then she’d left, swiping Bradley’s fur lined traveling cloak on her way out.

  By the first night she’d gotten as far as the inn she and Caelian had stayed at on the first night of their journey, months ago. The old man there had recognized her right away, and asked after her health, and that of her tall companion’s.

  “I don’t know,” she answered. “I’m trying to find out. I want to be there in case he needs rescuing.”

  The man had nodded and winked at her, and then not charged her for a room. She’d tried to insist on paying, but not very hard, because truthfully she had little money and didn’t know how long it would last. She thought she had the necessary supplies to sleep outside, but she wasn’t sure she had the necessary skills to make it safe or comfortable. It had been safe and comfortable in Caelian’s arms, she thought, and then smiled, remembering her fear. If she’d known what he was at the time, she wouldn’t have worried. Or perhaps she would have been more worried about him than the unknown outlaws who’d been surrounding them. But he’d held her close and reassured her, keeping his secret to himself so as to not frighten her, and she had slept better that night than she ever had before or since.

  She persisted on her journey north, stopping occasionally for a bite to eat or a place to sleep, but riding straight though some nights, especially when her money ran low. In a larger town she’d found an alley with straw in it, and managed a short nap there before being chased away by a man whose home it was. She’d apologized profusely, humbled, but he was having none of it, so she departed as quickly as possible, her eyelids still drooping as she left civilization behind.

  Each place she stopped, she made a point of asking about the geography, the lands surrounding it, if there happened to be any royal families nearby. She’d only had raised eyebrows and chuckles in response, and her heart sank each time. Eventually she started to ask for the way to Arnes, acknowledging it by name, but she’d only gotten strange looks for that.

  She ran out of money for food on her sixth day. Her stomach clenched painfully as she rode, and she tried to focus on her journey, but lightheadedness overtook her. At the next village she stopped in, she strode right past the tavern, sniffing deeply, wondering if it was possible for her to absorb any of the nutrients by smell alone. It mostly smelled like liquor and piss, but under that there was something rich and hearty. A stew, perhaps. She dared not even dream they had a roast, although if they did it wouldn’t matter. She would be no closer to being able to afford a feast for a king than she was to paying for a bowl of broth.

  A young man outside the tavern noticed her, and ran his eyes over her slowly.

  “Hungry, are you?” he asked.

  She nodded despite herself, despite the lecherous look in his eyes, her hunger was so great.

  “You’re a pretty thing, even if you’re filthy. Perhaps we could work something out?”

  She considered it briefly. After all, she’d sold herself to Bradley. What was one more man, on her quest to find her mate.

  She couldn’t, though. She wouldn’t. Hunger was making her delirious, making her desperate. In leaving Bradley she had declared herself Caelian’s, and the thought of anyone’s touch besides his made her ill. She would rather be starving and destitute than to sell herself for a scrap of bread.

  She shook her head, almost regretting it as she did, so desperate was she for something to fill her belly.

  “You sure about that, darling?” he asked, and then lurched toward her, unsteady on his feet, and reached for her gown. He toppled over and took her with him, pinning her underneath him, his hand pressed painfully against her breast, his hot breath stinking of liquor inches from her face. She screamed then.

  The door flew open and the man was pulled off of her, and then flung down into the street. Maggie looked up to thank her rescuer, and was surprised to be looking at a young woman, about her own age, but tall and sturdy.

  “Get the fuck out of here Nathan, you fucking drunkard!” she yelled, and then spit at the man who hadn’t moved.

  The tall woman turned her attention to Maggie and sympathy came across her face. She reached a hand down to help Maggie up, and she took it gratefully, rising on her unsteady legs.

  “You’re alright?” the woman asked.

  Maggie nodded, trying to keep the tears that filled her eyes from spilling.

  “Come inside, get yourself collected,” the woman said, and then put an arm around her to guide her in.

  “I don’t have any money,” Maggie protested.

  “Sitting by the fire doesn’t cost anything, honey,” the woman said.

  Maggie nodded and walked next to the woman, gratefully. She was surprised by how much she needed the affectionate touch; it had been a full week since she’d said goodbye to Juliette and gotten a long hug.

  The tavern had a long bar with stools pushed up to it, and square tables and chairs scattered around. There was a massive fireplace in one corner, and surrounding it were cushy chairs. It was one of these where Maggie took a seat, and the woman disappeared for a moment and returned to drape a blanket around Maggie’s shoulders. She also had a large bowl of stew in hand, and Maggie didn’t even try to politely reject it, just took it from her and ate quickly, hardly pausing to chew or breathe until the bowl was empty. The woman watched her silently from her seat a few feet away while she ate, and when she finished the woman disappeared again and returned with another bowl of stew. She set it in front of Maggie, but stopped her when she reached for it.

  “Let the first one settle for a few minutes, you don’t want to get sick and lose it all.”

&n
bsp; Maggie stopped herself, though it was difficult. She sat back in her seat and breathed heavily. She was warm, finally, and there was something in her stomach. She felt as if she could think clearly for the first time in days. She looked up at the woman and noticed the kindness in her eyes. She had pretty, delicate features, mismatched with her solid form.

  “Thank you,” she said, “thank you so much.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she wasn’t sure if it was from emotion or lack of use.

  “Happy to help,” the woman said. “Fuck these men who think they can take whatever the fuck they want.”

  Maggie had been referring to the food, but she realized then just how much assistance the woman had given her. She grinned at her, for the first time in a long time feeling good about her fellow man. Woman.