Kiss of the Royal

by Lindsey Duga

  It perplexed me. Yet it was more than that… It disturbed me. For one, I had never seen a monster do that, not in all the many creatures I’d faced and battles I’d fought. They had all either dissolved into black smoke as the ground burned at their feet, or they crumbled like dry clay. It couldn’t be the type of monster, either, because I’d helped take down plenty of griffins, and none of them had ever done that.

  Entrapped in my thoughts, I didn’t notice my pace slow. Soon I was walking right next to Zach, with Bromley some distance ahead.

  I wanted to avoid an awkward silence while walking next to each other, but I felt suddenly speeding up would be too obvious.

  It was also the easy way out. If I wanted to defeat this dragon with his help, with our Kiss, I needed us to be real partners.

  I cleared my throat. “So are we going to talk about what happened in the forest?”

  “I told you: I don’t know what happened with the gold—”

  “Not that. Well, yes that, but also…it was a close call back there. You could’ve died. You almost did. If you would’ve—”

  “I’m not going to Kiss you, Ivy,” Zach snapped.

  “Sacred Sisters,” I breathed through my teeth. “Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, thank you. I was talking about you just running off, leaving me.”

  “I told you, it won’t happen again. But besides that…I had a plan.”

  “Which you should’ve included me in.”

  “I was going to, but you wouldn’t shut up about the Kiss.”

  “I just wanted you to understand we were taking an unnecessary risk.”

  Zach stiffened, his fingers tensing on his horse’s bridle. “Oh, you mean by trying to manipulate me? Actually, I think the word is seduce me into Kissing you.”

  My pulse quickened, in either anger or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t let it drop. “I did what I thought would save us—and it would have, by the way.”

  Zach let out a dry laugh and shook his head. “How typical of you Royals. You even use Lust as a weapon. How do you sleep at night, knowing you toy with people’s emotions?”

  “And how typical of you Romantica. Running when people need you,” I spat. “Your speed is legendary—could it be because you spent most of your life running?”

  The words had been out of my mouth for less than a second before I realized I had said something terribly wrong. Zach suddenly halted. There was a rigidness in every muscle of his body, and his eyes were wide with horror. At least, I thought that’s what it was, but the emotion was gone too quickly to be sure, replaced instead with a look I’d seen on my own reflection many times: regret.

  I reached for him, wanting to correct whatever I’d said wrong. “Zach—”

  “No.”

  It was one word, but it said so much. It was no to my apology. No to anything else I could say. No to me.

  I retracted my hand and slowed, with his rejection forming a solid barrier between us.

  ...

  The next hour or two, until the sun went down and we could progress no farther into the woods without the aid of a torch, we traveled in complete silence. Bromley, bless him, seemed to sense that sour words had been exchanged, and Zach was in a dark mood because of it—a mood Brom understood not to interrupt.

  I knew better than to try speaking to him, too, mostly because I guessed he wasn’t ready to hear any apologies. Plus, bringing it up around Bromley felt awkward. In truth, during those achingly long minutes of silent travel, I agonized over what I’d said. What did I know about his past? What did I know about all those scars? I hadn’t meant for it to turn so personal.

  When we found a good spot to make camp, we started our usual ritual of feeding the horses, getting the fire going, and pulling out the provisions, all with barely a word passed among the three of us. Anything that needed to be discussed, Zach’s answers were short, and anything he needed to say, he directed at Bromley. He didn’t even look at me. Not once.

  My stomach rolled and frothed with guilt as I fed Lorena her dinner. She chewed the oats from my hand and seemed pleased to find bits of dried orange peels mixed in—her very favorite. But even Lorena’s ticklish nose as she searched for more citrus didn’t make me smile.

  After we had eaten, Bromley jumped up from his spot by the fire. “I think I’ll go get some more firewood.”

  It was painfully obvious he was dying to escape the tension. That, or he wanted to give us an excuse to talk and sort things out. I doubted that was a good idea.

  “We have plenty of wood.” I gestured to the pile of dry wood stacked nearby.

  “Then I’ll go find a stream for fresh water.” He left without even grabbing a flask. Couldn’t say I blamed him.

  Zach sat across from the fire, sharpening one of his many knives. He paused, inspecting it, the orange and red flames reflecting in the silver blade.

  It took several moments and a few deep breathing exercises for me to rise. I moved around the fire and took a seat next to him, making Zach twitch and nick his finger on the blade.

  Cursing softly, he stuck his thumb in his mouth. He pulled it out to examine it, but blood rose to the surface immediately. As he went to suck on it again, I instinctively caught his hand and brought his finger toward my lips.

  Then I stopped. Healing his wounds by a Kiss was not what he wanted. I released his hand, tore a small strip of fabric from the end of my sleeve and wrapped the end of his finger. I squeezed, applying pressure to the wound.

  Throughout the whole process, Zach hadn’t moved or said a word, but I could feel his eyes on me.

  “No Kiss?”

  “You said no,” I whispered, barely audible over the sound of the crackling flames.

  He didn’t reply. I thought he’d jerk his finger out of my hand, but he left it there.

  I stole a peek at his face. His mouth was set in a thin line, but his brow was no longer furrowed, giving him a look of cool indifference rather than anger or hurt.

  “I’m sorry, Zach, I know what I said upset you.”

  Still, he remained silent.

  “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. Everything I’ve seen of you says running is the last thing you’d ever do. Whatever the situation, if given the opportunity, I know you’d stay and fight. You’d stay to protect the people you…you love.”

  Or think you love.

  Zach tapped his other fingers on his knee.

  Well, it was hopeless. Perhaps tomorrow he’d be in a better mood. I started to release his finger when Zach caught my palm with his whole hand and squeezed it. Mystified, I watched him, afraid to take my eyes away, hoping he would offer some kind of hint about his thoughts.

  “Do you know why I was born?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth then closed it again, completely blank as to how to respond. Zach was indeed a rare breed. Romanticas and Royals never crossed paths, unless it was to put down a rebellion, and even then, a Royal wouldn’t usually go near a Romantica for fear of being branded a heretic themselves and stripped of their Royal title.

  I thought he’d continue, as if it was a rhetorical question, but he waited for me to respond.

  “It was…an accident, I suppose?”

  “That’s what most people suspect. But that’s not what my mother told me.” Zach leaned back and glanced skyward. There were no stars or a moon to be seen, only the shadows of trees, and beyond that, blackness. “Have you ever been to a theater, princess?”

  I shook my head. I’d heard of them, though. Apparently they were a Romantica tradition—a house where they told stories and sang ballads, almost always about Love.

  “Oh, they’re amazing. Maybe after all this is over, I’ll take you to one.” Then he briefly closed his eyes, like he was steeling himself. “My mother worked at one. She sang beautifully and told stories in a way that made you feel like you were really there. But her best talent was just sitting with the guests and…talking. She made you feel like you were the most important person
in the world, like there was only you and your dreams and nothing else mattered.

  “My father was a prince passing through the town with his patrol. He and a few others visited the theater, and he met my mother. Her own mother had died just the day before, but she tried to be herself anyway, hiding her grief behind a pretty smile while serving food and drink.

  “But my father…he noticed somehow. He pulled her aside and asked what was wrong. He’d seen her the other night, and tonight she was…different. To have a complete stranger see through her mask—it made my mother open her heart to him. Once she did, it didn’t take her long to fall in love with him. As for my father, at first, he claimed to not love her, but he returned to her almost every night to be with her. It wasn’t until he discovered she was pregnant that he finally realized…”

  Swept up in Zach’s words, I couldn’t look away from his face.

  His mouth twitched into a tiny smile. “My father became a heretic, too. He married her in secret, and when the Legion found out, they sent him on a solo suicide mission. But my mother talked about him all the time. She said every day she was away from him was painful.” Zach stayed quiet for a long time then looked at me. “Such desperation… Have you ever felt that, Ivy?”

  Again, my voice locked in my throat. No, I hadn’t felt such a thing. It was preposterous, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Perhaps it was because of the intensity with which his eyes held mine, and I could feel desperation in them.

  It was unheard of—a Royal wanting to marry a Romantica. Was this even true? Or a lie told by Zach’s mother to ease the pain of his father’s disappearance?

  Zach seemed to read my thoughts. “I’m not naive. This could very well be a lie to help me think better of a father I never knew. But even if it was, doesn’t that mean something? That my mother still loved him so deeply as to lie for him? Even for me? Maybe it wasn’t mutual, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

  “I’ve never seen such a thing,” I said at last. My throat felt dry after staying silent.

  Zach placed a few more pieces of wood into the fire, and sparks flew upward. “No, I don’t suppose you have. Your kind is bred, isn’t it?”

  Although I wasn’t happy about the term, I couldn’t deny its truth. I was a product of intricate breeding, of careful calculation and manipulation of genes to produce the most powerful Kisses of the Legion. I was a pure-bred Royal. My parents may not have even felt Lust for each other. They had entered the bedchamber with a goal, a purpose.

  But a noble one—to produce an heir capable of fighting the Dark Forces and defending the four kingdoms. As for my mother, she saw every one of her children as soldiers, bred to help her find and destroy the Evil Queen. And it was what I wanted, too. I fought to end this war. To keep those little girls in Tulia’s class away from goblins and griffins.

  Zach smiled and said, “But it seems the end result was well worth it.” He paused. “You’re a smart, resourceful, and beautiful princess. I can’t deny that.”

  The fire before us was too hot. It made even my palms sweaty.

  “Don’t forget ‘infuriating,’” I added.

  Zach laughed, and I realized I had missed his laugh and easy smile in just that short amount of time. “And that.”

  “Zach, what I said…I said out of anger, and fear. You scared me when you ran off.” I’d been alone without a partner, just like at the wall, with the dwarf about to kill me and Kellian gone, with no one watching my back.

  “Ivy…”

  “Even if you won’t Kiss me, you have to learn to trust me. We’re still partners.”

  “And you have to trust me. Trust me when I say I can protect you without the Kiss, that we can defeat the dragon without it.”

  I opened my mouth, but Zach raised his hand to stop me.

  “You can’t change what I believe, no matter what you say or do. I will always believe kisses are not weapons. They were never meant to be weapons.”

  “The safety of the kingdom should be placed before anyone’s personal beliefs,” I said.

  “Give me a chance.”

  “You’re no good to me dead, Zach.”

  “I don’t plan on dying, Ivy.”

  “You almost did today.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  This was hopeless. We were going around in circles. But we had accomplished one good thing: Zach was talking to me again—and not just that. He’d told me something very personal. If he continued to warm up to me, perhaps I could convince him to see my side.

  I held up my index finger. “One chance,” I said, with the tiniest hint of a smile.

  “Fair enough.” Zach reached over and took my hand. Intertwining our fingers, he brought them up to his lips and kissed the back of my hand, where his mark rested.

  His lips were warm and smooth. As shocked as I was, I prayed I didn’t noticeably tremble. A part of me wanted to jerk my hand away, remembering Brom’s comments regarding Zach’s bare chest earlier.

  “You smell like citrus.”

  I tried to push down a shiver at his words, but I couldn’t. He had to have felt it. “That’s Lorena. She…she likes orange peels.”

  He smiled against my skin. “She and I have something in common, then.”

  He lowered our hands from his lips but didn’t let go. As his gaze lifted to my face, the trees and the campfire turned into blurs of color—shades of orange, red, green, violet, and brown—around us. And while the rest of the world’s details dimmed, his face seemed strangely in sharp focus, so clear, so crystal.

  “That’s not…it doesn’t…” I fumbled, unable to form a real sentence. Luckily I was spared any further struggling when the sound of footsteps crunching alerted us to Bromley’s approach, and Zach released my hand. I scooted away and immediately felt silly. Why was I acting like we were about to be caught doing something we shouldn’t?

  Zach stood as Bromley entered our little camp. “Seas of Glyll, you’re loud, Brom. I’ve got to teach you to move through the woods without awaking every creature within a mile.”

  Bromley caught my eye and grinned. “That might be a good idea.”

  Zach clapped Brom’s shoulder. “I’ll take the first watch. You two get some rest.”

  After clearing my head of any residual blurriness, I settled into my bundle and turned away from the fire, reaching into the pockets of my cloak and pulling out a folded piece of paper with the spell Brom had copied for me. I reread the spell over and over because, despite our conversation, I knew there was no way we could destroy the dragon without the Kiss. I trusted him to protect one princess, but how could he protect all the kingdoms from the greatest monster the world had ever known?

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  An Unexpected Heroine

  I woke up coughing. A shadow had fallen over my lungs, my Sense burning with the threat of another dark creature. But this feeling…was more like a mist than a heavy rain. I’d felt it many times on patrol—I knew what it was.

  My cough woke Zach, and he shot to his feet, one hand at his sword. When he realized there was no immediate threat, he crouched beside me.

  “What’s wrong? Is there something coming?”

  “It’s just sparrow harpies. A whole flock of them. Must be close.”

  At my words, Brom, who’d been keeping watch, made a face of disgust. “I hate those things. Any way we can avoid them?”

  I frowned. “We shouldn’t waste time trying to feel around the flock with my Sense.”

  Zach looked from me to Brom. “Sparrow harpies? I thought they only came out at night.”

  I nodded. “Usually they do, but sparrow harpies during the daylight is a sign that a powerful dark force is gathering, like—”

  “Like a Sable Dragon egg. Got it.” Zach sighed. He held out his hands, and I took them, letting him help me to my feet. “Are you okay to—”

  “Of course I am. They’re only sparrow harpies.” I wondered if him leaving me alone with the griffi
n had really shaken him.

  “Are you sure? I could—”

  “Zach, it’s not like I don’t appreciate all the attention, but I’m used to carrying this burden, remember? You’re my sixth partner.”

  At that, he dropped my hands, the tips of his ears tingeing pink. “Right. Of course.”

  In no time, we were on our way through the forest again. Although Zach made no move to touch me, I felt his gaze flicker to me every once in a while. I was a little ashamed at the way the nerves in my stomach fluttered when I caught him staring, or the way I kept revisiting my hands in his. But then a healthy dose of fear would ripple through me—fear of losing grip—and I’d feel like myself again.

  Two hours later, we heard the flapping of wings. Hundreds of them, if not thousands. In fact, it sounded more like buzzing.

  The three of us simultaneously dismounted. We went forward on foot a few more paces, then Zach stopped. “Should we tether the horses?”

  I hesitated. “Sparrow harpies don’t touch the living. The horses won’t like them, but if the harpies are feasting on something, we can’t wait out the swarm.”

  “There’s no way to drive them off?”

  “None that you would agree to,” I muttered.

  “Okay, then the horses come with us.” Zach moved forward. I scowled but didn’t object.

  The buzzing was impossibly loud now. It pounded in my ears and echoed in my brain, rattling my teeth.

  The sky was thick with harpies. Great swarms of black bat-winged creatures the size of sparrows—if sparrows were lumpy and grotesque. They had tiny heads and flimsy arms and legs, their black leathery wings supporting their weight that mostly came from their gargantuan stomachs. Some hovered, some dove down, and some zipped through the air like flies, their wings a blur.

  In the middle of the forest was a large meadow, and spread across it was…a massacre.

  Corpses littered the tall grass, flattening the growth with gore and blood. It wasn’t people—thank the Queen—but it was a herd of red rowan deer. The majestic creatures had been slaughtered by some dark creature, but it was hard to tell how they’d been killed, since the sparrow harpies had pecked their carcasses down to their silver bones. Whatever creature killed them had to be fast to catch them—possibly griffins from the air or serpents from the tall grass.