by Kayle Wolf
“Among all of his people? That would have been suicide,” Helena breathed, staring up at him. He shrugged his great shoulders, not sure what to say. “But you—he was there, that day. When you saved me, the first time. He was right there. Why didn’t you kill him there and then, if you had nothing to lose?”
“I saw you,” he said simply. “I can’t explain it. I just—saw you, and I had to get you out of there.”
There was a slight scuffle under the table, and Art looked up to see the tell-tale expression of a woman who’d just been kicked in the shins by her sister on Angela’s face. The wolves looked like they were about to burst, and there were identical looks on Samuel and Alexander’s identical faces. Very unsettling, that. “What?”
“You’re soulmates,” Lisa burst out unexpectedly from the other side of the table, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
Chapter 15
There was a ringing silence in the room. Helena fought the urge to look up at Art, not trusting herself to make eye contact with him. She could feel a blush rising in her cheeks, feel her heart pounding. Soulmates. She hadn’t said it out loud, hadn’t dared to—but of course, she’d thought it. How could she not? The connection they had—the strength of the chemistry between them, the way just the touch of his hand turned her to jelly, even the way he looked at her, the reverence in his fingertips as he brushed against her skin… it all pointed huge glaring red arrows towards the ‘soulmate’ word. And if he’d been a dragon, it would have been simple.
But he wasn’t a dragon. He was a bear. She had no idea how mates worked with bears—or even if they had the concept. Many humans didn’t even believe in the idea of soulmates, she knew, and from what Angela and Jessica had said about their old pack, marriages often had more to do with politics or convenience than they did with fate or destiny. And from what Art had just disclosed to them all—god, she’d known he was holding something back from her, but she’d had no idea. No wonder he was so controlled, so closed-off, so tight-lipped about his past. His whole family, taken out … it was a miracle he’d controlled himself as well as he had. As if she needed another reason to admire him, she thought.
But she couldn’t let him be put on the spot like this. Not to a question like that. So in the ringing silence that had followed Lisa’s pronouncement, she knocked her plate to the floor. It clattered noisily, her dinner splattering across the floor, and the room erupted immediately into chaos, everyone seizing the opportunity to change the subject from soulmates to cleaning up the disaster. Amid the noise, she snuck a glance at Art, whose dark eyes bore an unmistakable expression of gratitude. Good. She’d gotten him out of that one. They could talk later. They needed to. They had a few things to discuss, after all.
The rest of the meal passed a little awkwardly, with everyone at the table seemingly on the same page of avoiding, at all costs, the subject of soulmates. Stephen pottered off to retrieve a second helping of lunch for Helena, who talked animatedly about anything that would come to mind, and once everyone had finished their meal, hurried excuses soon had the room empty, leaving Art and Helena by themselves. She looked up at him, a slight smile playing hesitantly across her face.
“Well, that was—a lot.”
“Thanks for—changing the subject.”
“I had no idea, about your family, Art. I’m so sorry.” She touched the side of his face, wishing she could offer any more comfort for such an unbelievable loss.
“I should have told you earlier,” he said, looking down. “But—honestly, I thought it was going to be worse. It almost felt…” He took a breath. “I feel better, having said it out loud.”
“Good.” She looped an arm around his waist and squeezed him tightly, being mindful of his healing injuries. “Any time you want to talk about it—I’ve got nothing but time. I’m always here to listen.”
He nodded, his eyes still fixed on the table with that faraway look he got sometimes. She hesitated, not sure whether to bring up the issue of their relationship. She had her own theories about what they were, but he was going through so much—was it really fair to drop something else on him? He looked up at her, and she smiled to hide her worry, squeezed him one more time then jumped to her feet.
“I’ve got to go talk to a bunch of dragons about how great you are. I’ll meet you later, in my quarters?”
He nodded, his eyes far away. It seemed best to leave him alone with his thoughts, at least for now.
The half-dozen dragon families from the valley were waiting for her in the great hall they used for these meetings. She grimaced as she stepped through the door—they were all in their dragon shapes. Not a great sign. Since Lisa had moved in, human form had been a more and more common preference at meetings like this—the reversion to draconic form suggested that none of them were feeling especially progressive about what had been going on over the last few days. Word about Art must have gotten around. She gritted her teeth for a moment—then transformed too, still grateful for her freedom from the collar that had kept her trapped. In dragon form, she’d be able to address everybody.
The minute she’d shifted, a wall of animosity hit her, and she recoiled a little, flaring her wings in surprise. She’d expected some concerns to be raised, of course, but this was next level. Where was Alexander? Her brother ought to be here with her—after all, he was the king. She searched for him, her sinuous neck twisting as she looked—there he was, deep in conversation with the blue-eyed family, their closest neighbors. Was that Amara? The youngest daughter of the family was also the most outspoken, unsurprisingly. She’d certainly been a voice of dissent when it came to accepting not only Lisa but Angela and Jessica. But from what Samuel had said, she’d come around eventually, even having a fairly civil conversation with Jessica at the recent gathering. Had something changed? Was she just taking the opportunity to be contrary?
They were all waiting for her to address them. She flared her wings again, a gesture that traditionally called for attention and silence, and the group quieted, their gleaming eyes turning to her. This was a big part of why she preferred her human form, she thought, trying to put on a brave front. It was a lot less intimidating to address a room full of creatures that didn’t have razor-sharp talons and mouths full of wicked teeth.
She performed all the traditional courtesies, wary of Alexander’s watchful eyes on her. After all, she wasn’t just speaking for herself, here—she was representing her family. And more to the point, she was representing Art. She told them the full story of the last week of her life, sparing no detail about the clan of dragons from Mossley, and the barbaric and evil things they did at their festival. She could feel the consternation in the room, the mingled feelings of shock and horror, the dozens of telepathic side-conversations as members of the community discussed the information she had brought. And, forcing herself to be brave, she told them about Art. About how his family had been ruthlessly and needlessly killed—about how he’d sacrificed his chance for vengeance to instead save Helena. About how he’d come to save her yet again when the Mossley dragons had tracked her down. About how he’d been willing to die for her own protection.
Bears are misunderstood among other shifters, she explained, not sure how to even broach the subject of prejudice. They are considered to be feral, out of control… but it’s not true. I know Art well, and he has the most incredible strength and discipline of any man I’ve met.
Why isn’t he here? Amara demanded, broadcasting the question to every dragon present—rude of her, but Helena didn’t react. Why isn’t he here to speak for himself?
He is recovering from his injuries. You’ll all meet him soon, I promise. I think we have a lot to learn from him—about his people, a whole new kind of shifter that none of us knew existed—
I knew.
A ripple of shock moved palpably through the room. The voice that had sounded was only distantly familiar, and Helena had to scan the room closely to realize who it was that had spoken. The dragon moved forward, his head
held high, his vibrant, forest-green eyes gleaming brilliantly with the force of his feeling.
William, she said politely, inclining her head as her mind raced, trying to figure out what he had meant. He was one of the oldest dragons in the valley, the patriarch of his clan, and had contested her mother’s claim to the throne, hundreds of years previously. She hadn’t recognized his voice because he rarely attended gatherings—even more rarely, since the increased emphasis on spending time in human shape. He flicked his wings out and folded them fastidiously to his side, his green eyes scanning the crowd assembled.
Everything this young upstart has said about bears is false. They are nothing but cursed humans, infected with a wild spirit of destruction that brings death and destruction. They are a disease, and the late king of the Mossley dragons was right to exterminate the nest he found. We have suffered the presence of a human in our sacred home. We have even tolerated the pet wolves of the king’s brother, as repellent as their presence is. But we draw the line at bears. I issue this warning, as an Elder of this valley, once well respected. If this creature is not killed, or at the very least expelled from the valley, only misfortune will follow.
And with that ringing pronouncement, he turned and strode to the far edge of the gathering hall, where the entrance to the cavern let in the afternoon sun. He spread his great wings and dove from the ledge. And to Helena’s mounting horror, he wasn’t alone. At least half a dozen dragons followed him, their own wings sparkling in the afternoon sunlight as they left the meeting. She looked helplessly to Alexander, who looked as shocked as she felt. She couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her brother. His short time as king had been fraught with this kind of controversy. But nobody had ever walked out of a gathering called by the king before…
Alexander called the meeting to a close, stiffly thanking the remaining dragons for their presence for the entirety of the gathering. Some of them glanced at her with sympathy as they left, and she felt the comforting brush of Amara’s mind as the blue-eyed dragoness moved past her. A subtle apology for the rudeness of her question—and an implicit rejection of William’s position. It seemed Helena had some allies, at least. Once they were all gone, she shifted back to human and buried her face in her hands. Alexander was beside her, human as well, his eyes full of sympathy.
“That could not have gone worse,” she said, looking at him with tears standing in her eyes—and to her surprise, he chuckled.
“You weren’t at our mother’s first gathering as queen, were you?” She shook her head. “William made an almost identical speech then. Said that having a dragoness in charge would only lead to misfortune. Never mind that we’ve had as many queens as kings in our recorded history… but we’d had five kings in a row before Mom, so he decided it was a good opportunity to prophesy that we were all doomed. He’s wrong, and nobody trusts him. He’s just old, so his family had to make a show of supporting him.”
She took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”
“He’s a boring old traditionalist, full of hot air,” Alexander said, pulling her into a hug and messing her hair up with one hand—an irritating habit she thought he’d left behind in their adolescence. “Let me deal with him.”
“He knew about bears,” Helena said thoughtfully. “Nobody knew about bears. Dad’s going to be furious that he’s been keeping secrets for so long. Can you requisition all his books?”
“Maybe,” Alexander said. “It’d be a pretty serious insult.” Dragons took their records very seriously—Stephen was proof of that. The palace library was his pride and joy, and anyone wanting to take books away from it would have a hell of a fight on their hands. “I do wonder what else he’s not telling us, though.”
“Politics.” Helena rolled her eyes. “Rather you than me.”
“You’re pretty high in the line of succession, you know,” Alexander pointed out as they walked back into the palace together, arm in arm. “You’d better hope I don’t get assassinated.”
“Lisa’s higher than me. Can you imagine William having to swear loyalty to a human queen?”
“He’d chew his own wings off first,” Alexander laughed. They parted ways at the end of the hall, Alexander no doubt heading off to figure out what to do about William. She felt a little better, having talked to her brother, but there was still a deep feeling of unease in her chest. She’d so hoped that she could offer Art a home free of the kinds of prejudice he talked about experiencing as a bear. It seemed that that wasn’t an option.
But she wasn’t going to drop that on him now. For now, he had enough to be dealing with. She tapped gently on the door before she opened it, mindful that he might be sleeping. But he was awake, sitting up in bed, and he smiled at her as she came into the room and settled on the bed beside him. She took a deep breath, already feeling better to be near him, though worry was gnawing at her stomach.
“How’d it go?”
God, what was she going to tell him?
Chapter 16
Art found his way back to Helena’s quarters easily enough. The palace passageways twisted and turned, but he’d always had a good sense of direction, and it served him well even underground. He settled back into Helena’s bed, vaguely thinking of getting some sleep, but his mind was too alert, too awake. Ticking over like an engine. He couldn’t stop thinking about what the human woman had said at lunch. Soulmates. The word had been met with shock and consternation, and he hadn’t known how to react… but the more he thought about it, the more it felt like the most natural thing in the world to call Helena his soulmate. After all, just meeting her eyes had single-handedly turned his life around that day. Nothing had been the same since then—even his relationship with the Wild part of himself had seemed to change in the light of those golden eyes.
But did she feel the same? She was a dragon, the sister of a king—so royalty. What could he possibly offer her, some poor bear with no family, no territory, nothing but the clothing on his back to call his own? Only himself. And he was damaged goods, that was for sure. Speaking about his family out loud for the first time had been an important step, he could feel it—but he could also see how much healing he had left to do. Could he really ask her to deal with that? Could he ask her to jump into a relationship with someone so damaged, someone she’d have to be so patient with?
Before he knew it, there was a gentle tapping on the door, and there she was. His heart still skipped a beat just looking at her, the way her hair fell, the graceful movements of her body. It was hard to believe that this wasn’t the only form she’d ever inhabited, so confidently did she move. But for the fact that he’d seen the way she moved in her draconic body, he’d have doubted that the human form was the one she’d had to learn and practice with.
Her eyes flickered when he asked her how the meeting had gone, and he felt dread settle in his stomac1h. The dragons had rejected him. He knew it.
“No!” she gasped when he expressed this idea. “No—Art, no. Just one. One old windbag who nobody listens to regardless. Everyone else—well, they’re hidebound old morons, most of them, but they’ll come around. They came around to Lisa, and Angela, and Jessica—they’ll come around to you, too. They haven’t even met you yet. They’ll love you.”
“Lisa, and Angela, and Jessica… they’re not dangerous,” he murmured.
“Neither are you,” she said fiercely, taking his wrist in a vice-grip that almost hurt. “Neither are you, Art. Don’t talk about yourself the way that scumbag dragon did. I’ll fight William myself if I have to. You’re staying.” She hesitated. “If you want to, of course. I mean—you don’t have to. I just mean—”
“I want to stay,” he reassured her, and her eyes lit up. “Of course I want to stay. Helena—” He paused again, not sure how to broach this subject. But the way she was looking at him, biting her lip, suggested that she’d been thinking about this, too. What better time than the present? He could be brave. He’d fought a whole nest of dragons for her, he could speak his feelings out lo
ud. “I’ve never felt anything like what I feel for you.”
“Me neither,” she whispered, taking his hands in hers.
“You changed my life. Completely. I can’t explain why, or what happened to me when I met you. But I can’t help but think there’s something between us, whatever you want to call it. And I know I’m—not a great prospect. I’m damaged goods, Helena. But whatever I have, it’s yours if you want it.”
“Of course I do,” she said, staring at him. “Of course I want you.”
“Are you sure? I don’t know how long it’s going to be before I heal from what happened to me. It could be years.”
“Art—” Was she laughing? She was pressing her lips together, a smile fighting to break through in her tear-filled eyes. “I’m a dragon. I have nothing but time.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes!” she almost yelled, pouncing on him from across the bed, and he was startled into laughter, rolling back under the force of her assault. “Yes, you idiot! I love you! Of course, I’m sure!” He caught his breath, and her movements stilled. “Art?”
“You love me?”