by Lucy Fear
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A Dragon's Curse
PLATINUM DRAGONS BOOK 2
LUCY FEAR
Copyright ©2018 by Lucy Fear
All rights reserved.
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About This Book
When dragon princess Maeve turned 21 she fell victim to the curse that had plagued her family for centuries.
And in effort to escape her fate, Maeve fled as far as she could.
It was on this journey where she met Prince Idris. A handsome man who was also a dragon.
As it turns out, Prince Idris may just hold the key to Maeve putting an end to her family's curse once and for all....
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
The thing Maeve remembered most was the screaming. The host of the Aos Si galloped through the countryside, wraiths on ethereal horses, and the mortals ran from them, wailing in terror. She watched her father lance one of these unfortunates, spearing it… (him?) to the ground, and cackling in maniacal glee. Bile welled up in her throat as she turned her head away. On her other side, Prince Conall, her brother, acted with grim efficiency, scooping up a terrified girl and draining her of blood. He discarded her corpse like a stained handkerchief and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes met Maeve’s, and he arched an eyebrow. The meaning was clear; it was time for her to get down to business.
She shook her head, terrified and nauseous, and he, saying nothing, rode on. The hunt thundered past, leaving her alone in the misty moonlight, though she could still hear the sound of the horns in the distance. If she didn't catch a victim of her own and drink their blood within the next few days, she knew something horrible awaited her. But after a moment of shivering indecision, she turned her horse back toward home. Curse or no curse, she couldn't participate in this any longer. The trip back through the gate was somehow worse than usual, leaving her dazed and sick, and she stumbled back to her room, barely aware of her surroundings.
*****************
“How dare you defy me, insolent girl!” her father screamed down at her from his throne of bleached bone and obsidian. It was the evening after the hunt. Lord Cian had not taken her refusal well. The ruler of the Court of Bones was used to having his orders obeyed. The courtiers, few though they were, clustered in groups around the throne room, haughty and malevolent, their smiles showing that they were pleased by her fear and humiliation. Maeve stood alone, shivering in the cold air.
“There has to be a better way! I won't murder innocent mortals just to save myself,” she said, a tear streaming down her face at the memory. Everyone had warned her, but she hadn't really believed them until she'd seen the cruel reality of the hunt for herself.
Lord Cian frowned and shook his head. “I can't imagine how a child of mine grew up to be such a naive idiot.” Of course, her father wouldn't know her; he'd hardly paid her any attention until now. Rumor said that he’d killed her mother for daring to bear him a child against his wishes, but, for whatever reason, he hadn't killed the infant. He'd brought her up to the castle and left her upbringing to the servants, not even bothering to name her. Conall, Lord Cian’s son, had always been kind to her, but now even his eyes were cold and distant.
“She's to be confined in the dungeons until she starts to turn. We’ll see what remains of her tender sensibilities then,” Lord Cian said, his lips curling upward maliciously.
“Yes, Father,” Conall said, bowing his head. Maeve wanted to protest, but her knees were shaking. Everyone knew about the terrible things that went on in the dungeon. Would her brother really take her there? He grabbed her by the elbow, not gently, and pulled her from the throne room.
“Conall?” She looked up at him timidly, but he didn't answer until they were two floors down. The halls near the dungeons were dark, and the air was even colder. If both of her hands had been free, she would've been hugging herself, for comfort as much as for warmth.
“You should’ve joined in the hunt like everyone else, Maeve. There's no point in trying to resist the curse. You’re only making things harder on yourself,” Conall said in a sharp voice, not meeting her eyes. Everyone in the family, including her brother, her father, aunts, uncles and cousins, were subject to the curse after they passed their 21st birthday. She was only the latest victim.
“But can't we do something else?” she protested. “Do we have to kill them? What if we only took a little blood? We could do it in their sleep instead of terrifying them half to death. If we used a glamour, they might even offer themselves freely.”
His fingers tightened on her arm. They were in the dungeons now, the torchlight on the walls guttering in a chill wind. In the distance, Maeve could hear someone screaming. “Don't you think we've tried? There is no other way. It's time you accepted your place in our family. We’re monsters, Maeve.” He opened a door, revealing a tiny, dark cell. “And now, you are too.” The door shut behind her with the thud of finality. She was alone.
The cell, though more comfortably appointed than she might have expected, with a soft bed and carpeted floor, didn’t even have a window, so it was difficult to tell how much time passed. Sometimes, they pushed food and water into the room, but not reliably enough to count the days. Otherwise, she had nothing but her own thoughts to entertain her.
It was true that Conall had grown distant as the years passed and he took up more duties from their father, but she was still stunned by both his behavior and his words. How could he just abandon her here? Did that mean what he said was true? There was no way around the curse? If that was the case, it was only a matter of time before the beast took hold of her. She had never seen the transformation, but she had heard the stories. The afflicted turned on their loved ones in madness and violent bloodlust. The very idea terrified her, and so, when she awoke one day and felt her blood burning in her veins, she started to weep, hugging her knees.
No one came to help her, not when she howled with pain as her muscles cramped and her bones creaked, not even when her cries turned to bestial roars. By the time the door opened, flooding the cell with light, she was nearly incoherent. When she raised her hands to shield her eyes, she saw hairy paws crowned with sharp talons. Someone came into th
e cell, and the door slammed shut. Maeve didn't recognize them; she didn't care. Her mind was filled with nothing but the scent and sound of their blood flowing under their skin. They screamed as she fell upon them.
The hot liquid ran down her throat, iron and salt more delicious than the finest wine, and she gulped it greedily, until there was nothing left. She growled in frustration, shoving the cold and empty corpse away and pacing the room. Slowly, reason asserted itself. Her claws retracted, and she felt the bones in her face shift painfully. The bed creaked as she collapsed onto it, and then her eyes fell upon the corpse of the man on whose blood she had gorged herself. She wanted to recoil, but she forced herself to look, to stare into his glassy eyes and really confront the horror of what she’d done. He was a young human male, fair of hair, with dirt on his knees and under his nails. He had a life, hopes and dreams, a family who missed him, all ended now because of a curse laid upon her family long before her birth. Tears flowed over her cheeks.
Sometime later, the door creaked open again. Conall took in the entire scene for a moment and then approached the bed, laying a hand on her shoulder. It was an effort not to jerk away from his touch. “It’s over now, Maeve. But it doesn’t have to be this hard every month. Just join the hunt, and everything will be fine.”
She looked up at him, stunned. After everything that had happened, that was what he had to say to her? But the retort froze on her lips as she remembered their earlier conversation. He was so convinced this was the only way to do things that he didn't even understand her objections. There was no point in voicing them again. She took a deep breath. “Am I free then?”
If he noticed the frigidity of her tone, he gave no sign. “Yes. Father is still angry, but I’m sure if you stay out of his way, he’ll have forgotten about it by next month.” Maeve drew herself up with every ounce of dignity she possessed and walked out of the cell without another word. When she reached her chamber, far on the other side of the palace, she started to pack a bag.
************************************
Aidan’s hands glided over the curve of her hips, familiar and beloved, as he entered her, gasping as her inner heat surrounded him. She moved against him, rolling her hips in an alluring way, and it took all his control not to spill himself right then. Even so, their lovemaking was almost frantic, the moan of his release muffled by his teeth on the back of her neck. When her climax followed his, the rhythmic sensation of her spasming around his member made his vision blur with pleasure. He laid his cheek against the warm skin of her back as he recovered his breath.
After a moment, he withdrew and he lay next to his wife in their bed, pulling her close against his body and pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. Rowan turned and smiled at him, pushing a lock of shadowy hair behind his ear. “You know, this is why we always end up with cold tea in the morning.”
“You look terribly upset about it,” he retorted, kissing her cheek. “Tea can always be reheated, but I wouldn’t replace one moment with you, my love.”
“Even after a hundred years?” she asked, smiling at him fondly.
“Even after a thousand years,” he said. She hummed with pleasure and snuggled back against him. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand pausing on the barely noticeable swell of her abdomen. Four children in a century. How the tongues would wag in the court when they revealed the news. Their youngest was only ten years old, a practically unheard-of age gap between children among the Aos Si. He had no doubt that many of the nobles would start talking about finding mortal lovers again. But of course, they wouldn’t actually, because, even here, half-blooded children were treated with scorn. Not his children, of course. No one would dare disparage the Lord’s children, and it was only Idris who was truly half-blooded. The Water of Life had made Rowan physically one of the fae, though Aidan had been relieved to find that she remained herself in every way that mattered.
By now, most of the members of the court who had grumbled about the eldest prince had been won over by his competence. Aidan was not sure if Idris wanted to inherit the throne, or if he was even suited to such a thing, and with any luck it would be centuries before that would be an issue, but the Lord of the Heavens found comfort in the fact that if the worst did come to pass, his son would be able to continue after him without much resistance.
Despite the fact that it was already late in the morning, he found himself lulled by the warm comfort of his wife’s body, and he let his eyes fall closed.
“I need to talk to you about a situation brewing in the borderlands,” said a sharp voice, shattering the stillness, and Aidan sat up with a start. “Ah! Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?!” shouted Prince Idris, shielding his eyes like he beheld the face of Medusa.
“Why didn’t you knock?” Aidan replied tersely. Rowan only pulled the covers more fully over herself and laughed. “Surely, you’re old enough to be aware of basic manners.”
“It’s the middle of the day! I assumed you’d at least be out of bed.” Idris had always been wound a little tightly. Rowan said he’d inherited it honestly from his father, but Aidan didn’t remember ever being such a killjoy. He refused to believe that his love had changed him that much.
“If you ever had a romance lasting more than a day, you’d be aware that there is not a prescribed time of day for enjoying oneself with one’s lover,” Aidan replied with an arched eyebrow. Not that he was in a hurry for his son to settle down. He’d been nearly four times Idris’s age when he met Rowan, and she was honestly the first person he’d ever considered a long-term relationship with. It was only that Idris never seemed to take any time for himself. It couldn’t be healthy.
“Oh, blessed ancestors, stop! I don’t want to know what you’re up to. Just put some clothes on!” Idris said, his panic increasing by the moment. Rowan was laughing so hard into her pillow that her face was red.
“You’re still standing here, so I assumed you wanted to know. Unless you intend on watching us dress, you’ll have to leave for that to occur.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll be waiting outside.” He slammed the door behind him, and Aidan and Rowan both laughed as they started to put on their clothes. Someday, their eldest son would find the person he was meant to be with, and then the tables would be turned.
************************
Idris leaned against the wall in the hallway and sighed heavily. No one wanted to see their parents like that, no matter how proud and glad he was that, despite all predictions to the contrary, they continued to have a loving and happy marriage. There was no reason for them to rub it in his face. And the remark about his love life was a low blow, he thought, scowling.
He was too busy for romance, anyway. There was always something going on among the groups of the nature spirits, the new name by which the ‘lesser fae’ had chosen to be known. His father had put him in charge of their affairs, and as their population grew, he found himself with less and less free time.
“You can come in now,” his mother’s voice called, and he pushed the door back open to find his parents both sitting on the balcony, drinking tea and eating a late breakfast.
“So what did you need to speak to us so urgently about?” Aidan inquired, handing him a cup of tea.
Idris had eaten breakfast two hours ago, and he preferred coffee, but, feeling still slightly irritated by his father’s earlier accusation of impoliteness, he took the tea anyway. “There's a situation on the border of the unclaimed territories. Reports are conflicting, but there are fears that the Court of Bones is trying to invade.”
“That is… odd. What makes them suspect the Court of Bones?” Aidan asked, setting down his cup and frowning.
“I don’t know. They could just be overreacting. Maybe it’s an animal. Maybe it’s nothing. But I’d like to go there in person and see. It’s near where Teague and his family live, so I thought I could go to him first.”
“It can’t be anything too serious if he hasn’t sent us a message about it,” Rowan said, glancing at he
r husband with a thoughtful expression.
“It can’t hurt to look into it,” Aidan replied. Sometimes, Idris felt that they were having conversations without the benefit of words. He hated feeling like he’d been left out of the loop, even when he knew that there was no trick to it; it was only years of partnership that let them anticipate the turn of each other’s thoughts. Perhaps he was jealous. It was a difficult thing to admit.
“Go and pay Teague a visit. But take Fenella and Rhosyn with you. They’ll be glad to see Teague again,” Rowan said finally.
Idris did not particularly want to take his sister with him, nor Fenella, his once nursemaid. Not because they were not both capable, but because he didn’t doubt they would have differing opinions on how he should do his job, and he didn’t want to argue. Rare was the person who won an argument with Fenella. But he was smart enough to gauge the expression on his father’s face before he spoke, and he knew there would be no getting around it.
“Fine. As long as they can be ready to leave tomorrow morning. I’m not going to wait around.”
********************************
They rode because gates were magically wasteful, used only for emergencies except in the few places that they were permanent, and Fenella absolutely hated traveling dragon-back. Idris couldn’t really complain; as much as he wanted to hurry, the matter wasn’t urgent. He enjoyed riding, and the horses, all scions of Polaris and Aidan’s stallion, Altair, were well-trained, with easy paces. His own gelding, Orion, was eager for the exercise, and, if anything, needed to be held back from breaking into a joyful gallop. The trip to Teague’s lands only took a few hours, which Rhosyn and Fenella spent chatting about various subjects while he remained on alert for trouble. Not that he expected any, but he also had no desire to hear about how handsome so-and-so’s third son had grown, or whatever it was they were discussing.