by Delia Castel
His wings stretched to their full span, and with an almighty flap, Polaris rose several feet off the roof terrace. Marigold clenched her teeth. This was something she would need to get used to, considering she was a dragon herself. Polaris’ wings rose and fell, propelling them higher and higher into the star-filled sky.
One final glance at the disappearing roof terrace told Marigold that her plan had worked. According to Ella, Lady Brimstone could no longer breathe fire. Considering that Governor Hertz used papaver, it was safe to assume he was also without flames and could not burn down the door. She sighed, hoping that Berrin would be all right in the dancehall with Ella’s grasping stepsisters. He would probably worry about her sudden disappearance.
“Are we going back to the mansion?” she asked.
Polaris shook his head.
“Where are you taking me?”
He let out a series of short roars, which sounded like laughter. Instead of taking offense, she rested her head on the smooth, leathery skin at the base of his neck. He was so warm and strong, just like his personality. She’d never met such kind, handsome gentleman in the two brothers. While Berrin was sweet and loving, Polaris was pragmatic and always taking charge. Apart from that, they were nearly identical in all but age and coloring.
Minutes later, the left side of his body dipped, and she clung onto his neck, squeezing his back with her knees. She glanced down to find them gliding over a beautiful lake. The moon reflected off its rippling surface in stark contrast to the surrounding forest. An owl hooted from somewhere below, and the scents of wildflowers and sweet cedar mingled with the brimstone of Polaris’ warm breath.
“So this is Austellus,” she murmured, her voice filled with awe. Boreas was a snow-covered landscape of evergreen forests, punctuated by small towns built around huge, bee-keeping facilities. From what she could see of the land below, it held a variety of terrains, including rolling hills, farmland, broadleaf forests, and suburbs. A lump formed in her throat. She could be happy here if she could resolve her problems. Even if they managed to bring Governor Hertz to justice, she still had to contend with Matheson and his hostility.
Polaris turned around and flew over a highway. They passed a pair of oversized wagons parked horizontally across the highway, and Marigold recognized it as the roadblock at the border of Austellus. She smiled. It had seemed like a lifetime ago since she had travelled down on the stagecoach with Ella. When they flew over an expansive, roof-covered structure at the roadside, she knew she was at the Sigma North stagecoach station.
They flew around the capital for another hour until Polaris’ wing dipped down, and they glided over the walled compounds of Florus. Glowing sky lanterns hovering above the roads made the treetops shine like emeralds. From the distance, another winged creature came into view, and Marigold’s heart thudded. “Is that another dragon?”
Polaris shook his head, and she relaxed. Perhaps his vision was better than hers. Soon, the eagle-faced, winged creature she had seen lying prone in the garden flew circles around them, and Polaris rumbled a greeting. Marigold wondered if the pair had flown together on several occasions, as the smaller creature did not seem to fear him. She glanced down at the rooftops, only to find about a dozen similar creatures taking off. They screeched a friendly greeting, and Polaris circled the mansion several times before landing on the blackened lawn with a small thud.
The slight movement jostled Marigold off the dragon’s back, and she fell off with a shriek. Before she hit the ground, Polaris caught her in his strong embrace. She closed her eyes, and a long shuddering breath escaped her lungs. “That was close!”
“Are you usually so accident-prone?” he asked, his voice deep and smoky.
Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring into his slit, amber pupils. His hair, which looked as black as midnight, hung loose around his face, framing his high cheekbones and chiseled jaw. Without thinking, she brought up her hand and caressed his cheek. The stubble felt soft under her fingertips, and her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips. “I’m sorry… What did you say?”
His dark brows rose, and a tiny smile played on his lips. “Forgetful, too?”
“No… I got distracted by your eyes.” She flushed. That sounded like something out of a romantic scroll. “I mean to say that you’ve still left your dragon’s eyes on.”
“All the better to see you… Marigold.”
The mere mention of her name on his lips brought her back to reality. She was in Polaris’ arms. And he was naked! Although she tried not to look, she could see his body in her peripheral vision. His broad, muscular chest heaved, and a low growl rumbled in his throat. The sound made her quiver, and wetness gathered between her thighs. She squeezed her knees together in an attempt to tamp down her heightening arousal.
His nostrils flared, and Marigold quivered. He could smell her excitement! The intensity of his stare made her insides melt, and the pulse between her legs pounded as hard as her heart. She lowered her gaze, only making matters worse by staring at his full, kissable lips. How could she feel such an intense attraction to Polaris when she was happily mated with his brother?
“I…” Although her words died in her throat, she forced herself to speak. “It’s safe to put me down.”
“I enjoyed having you on my back this evening.” The forearm holding up her legs gently lowered her to the ground.
Letting go of his neck, she gulped, suppressing the urge to say something about returning the favor on her back. This was no time for bawdy prison jokes. Not when her traitorous body yearned for his touch. She tore away from his intense, hungry stare. It was difficult enough to keep from throwing herself at him like a scarlet woman, so she dropped her gaze to their feet.
Polaris chuckled. “I’ve never had a lady inspect my soldier with such interest.”
“What—” Her eyes flickered up his legs, taking in his strong, muscular thighs between which stood a long, thick erection, glistening with pre-cum.
She squawked and stumbled back, losing her footing, and nearly falling on her back. Polaris caught her again, and his hard length pressed into her belly. “I’m sorry!” she yelped. For what, she had no idea, but she didn’t want to give him the impression that she liked what she saw. Because she longed to touch that beautiful, thick organ, to taste it and feel its stretch as it entered her core. Every moment in his mouthwateringly naked presence stripped away at her self-control like a kitchen assistant pulling off the layers of an onion. She liked her lips, which were too dry to be kissed. “Maybe we should...”
The sound of doors creaking open broke her out of a lustful stupor. Berrin and Matheson jogged out from around the side of the house, still clad in the clothing they wore to the dancehall. Polaris cursed under his breath and turned his back to his brothers.
“You’ll never guess what happened after you left!” cried Berrin.
“Tell us.” Marigold stepped away from Polaris, hoping his erection would subside by the time his brothers crossed the lawn.
The winged creature, a griffin, she remembered, flew down, and Berrin patted it on the head. He glanced down at her, his aquamarine eyes wide. “Uncle Hertz offered to hand back Matheson ’s inheritance.”
She reared back. “Why?”
Matheson sauntered past Berrin, narrowing his eyes. Marigold gulped. Had he seen what had happened between Polaris and herself? She held her silence, waiting for one of the brothers to speak. After a pause, Matheson said, “He wants you in exchange.”
Chapter 8
Even in the dim light of the half moon, Matheson could see Marigold’s face drain of blood. She clapped her hand over her mouth, glancing from him to Berrin, as though waiting to hear they’d agreed to swap her for the family fortune.
Berrin, of course, rushed to gather her in his arms. “Don’t worry,” he cried like a love-struck fool. “We won’t let him get to you.”
Marigold’s terrified gaze flickered to Matheson, and he curled his lip. Although he couldn’
t stand the wench, keeping her in the mansion would thwart whatever Uncle Hertz had planned. He would tolerate her… for now. The only person who hadn’t reacted so far was Polaris, who stood alone, nude and with his back turned. It was clear to Matheson that his brother had transformed and flown Marigold out of the dance hall. However, he was more interested in Polaris’ reasons for not showing his front. His gaze flickered over to Marigold, who had pressed that lovely bosom into Berrin’s chest.
Realization struck like a bolt of lust, and his eyes widened. The self-righteous General of the King’s Regiment had been aroused at the touch of his brother’s mate! A slow grin formed on Matheson’s face. “Are you having a hard time, brother?”
Still with his back turned, Polaris rotated his head, his jaw muscles flexing with frustration. “Why is your face bruised?”
Berrin lifted his head from Marigold’s voluminous curls. “One of Uncle Hertz’ bear shifters punched him in the face.”
“And why would a bear attack a dragon in public?” asked Polaris.
Matheson lifted his chin. “Maybe I was trying to protect Goldilocks’ honor, and his ruffians interceded.”
Berrin grinned. “Matheson yanked off Uncle’s earring and split his earlobe. You should have seen the blood. His embroidered jacket was ruined!”
Matheson smirked and patted the pocket of his breeches which held both the ridiculous earring and a sample of Uncle Hertz’ blood.
Polaris pursed his lips and drew out a long, tired breath. Matheson clenched his teeth. He was in no mood for a lecture. When Polaris opened his mouth to speak, Matheson said, “Save your breath.” He raised his hand, cutting off whatever words of faux wisdom his older brother was about to spout. “Berrin would have done the same if I hadn’t struck first. And since we don’t want everyone to question how a fledgling, fresh out of the academy, gained the strength of a full dragon, I did us all a service.”
Polaris’ mouth clicked shut. His face twisted into the exasperated expression he used when rubbing his temples or pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s been a long, stressful day. Let’s all go to bed.”
“All right then... Good night.” Berrin wrapped his arm around Marigold’s waist and turned her towards the side of the house. She gave Polaris one last glance under her lashes. Matheson suppressed a smirk, wondering how Berrin would undo the series of intricate bows that made up the back of her ballgown. If he had any sense, he would hike those skirts up and have at the wench over his desk.
“Sleep well, brother.” Polaris nodded to Marigold and in a deeper, more heroic voice said, “Please be assured that my brothers and I will do our utmost to protect you. We consider you a member of this family, after all.”
Matheson rolled his eyes at the over-sentimental statement. He would wager that a mercenary little madam like Marigold was rubbing her hands with glee at having sunk her claws into the hearts of not one, but two brothers. He turned to her with a sneer on his lips, but she broke away from Berrin and rushed into Polaris’ arms.
“Thank you,” she whispered. A tear rolled down her cheek.
Matheson’s stomach twisted, and he shifted on his feet. Could she really return their affection? Polaris closed his eyes and inhaled her hair, patting her on the back as though she were made of fine china. Matheson narrowed his eyes. She was fresh from prison and had spent nearly two years learning from hardened thieves, swindlers, and femme fatales. Of course, she knew how to sound genuine! Even high-born ladies had perfected weeping upon demand to sway a dragon’s heart. Marigold would be no different.
She drew back, cheeks flushed, and sashayed back to poor, love-addled Berrin. Clad in the gown he’d once purchased for Kaida’s trousseau, Marigold was the vision of loveliness. A tiny waist, luscious bosom, creamy neck, topped with golden curls that glimmered in the moonlight. She glanced over her shoulder, peeking again under her long eyelashes, and giving Polaris what she probably thought was a demure smile.
Berrin wound his arm around that lovely, slender waist and guided her back to the house, no doubt for another helping of her expert touch. His cock hardened at the thought of the wench laid out on a bed faking her pleasure to further ensnare his brother. Matheson clenched his teeth. If he ever got the chance with Marigold, he would make sure her cries were real. He snorted. One round with him, she would never want another dragon.
He scratched his head, wondering why his thoughts had gone in that direction. Polaris might have said something, but Matheson was too busy working through his muddled thoughts to notice.
“Matheson!” said Polaris. “Did Uncle Hertz give you any indication as to why he wants Marigold?”
Matheson folded his arms across his chest. “I didn’t give him the chance. As soon as the bastard came within reach, I struck.”
“That was unwise.”
Irritation simmered in Matheson's belly like a mud pool, its acidic vapors burning the back of his throat. “I had to do something. He sent his henchmen after Mother and Father, and the High Sheriff isn’t doing a damn thing against him.”
“When you face Judge Embers—”
“No!” Anger exploded in Matheson’s gut, and he whirled to face his brother. “The estate means nothing to me apart from keeping it out of that murderer’s filthy claws. And if he wants Marigold so badly that he’d swap her for the entire fortune, then I’ll do whatever I can to thwart him. But I will not pass up the opportunity to dish out some of the pain Mother and Father suffered!”
“Even if it means ending your chances of said thwarting?”
A rush of anger seared Matheson’s veins and converged in his cursed palm. The invisible sword wound pulsed, scorching his bones to the marrow. With labored breaths, he balled his fists in a futile attempt to contain the pain. A mist of sweat formed on his brow. If he didn't leave now, he would collapse on the scorched lawn, writhing in agony and once again becoming the object of pity. Through clenched teeth, he said, “I despise your sarcasm at the best of times, but mocking a grieving dragon is just as bad as lusting after your brother’s mate.”
Before Polaris could comment further, he turned and stalked towards the side door. Nanny stood in wait for him in the hallway, holding a vial of Dr. Squamatus’ concoction. Her eyes were bloodshot, as though she’d been crying.
“Thank you.” He stepped over the threshold into the lamplit hallway. Nanny pulled the cork, handed the vial to Matheson, and he downed its bitter contents. The magic in the elixir filled his stomach, and relief radiated through his innards, stretching out to his limbs. The burning agony dissipated into a tolerable background pain, and he sighed, handing back the empty glass container.
“I couldn’t help overhearing that conversation.” She pressed her lips together and slipped the vial in an apron in an identical fabric to her long, charcoal-colored dress. “Your parents would be proud of you for going back on the doctor’s regime and for trying so hard to bring their killer to justice.”
Hope warmed his chest, thickening his throat, and filling his eyes with tears. He blinked hard, not wanting Nanny to see how much her words had affected him. Ever since Kaida had left, Mother and Father had disapproved of his depressed stupor and the debauched lifestyle that had followed. He continued down the hallway with Nanny, their footsteps echoing on the marble floors.
“The griffins need their medicine, too,” she said. “Why don’t you come up to the roof with me?”
“I would like that,” he rasped. After spending the past few days with his brothers, it was a relief to be around someone else who grieved for Mother and Father.
Together, they walked up the servant’s staircase in silence. The stairwell lanterns elongated their long shadows, which stretched over the opposite wall. They reminded Matheson of specters, and he hoped Mother and Father’s spirits had moved on. It was unlikely, considering the types of deaths they had suffered. Even if Berrin had burned the killers, Uncle Hertz was still at large, his thriving presence a knife in his heart. His mind drifted to legends of sh
ades of dead fairies that stalked the night, feasting upon wandering souls.
Nanny opened the door to the rooftop, which stretched the expanse of the mansion. Half a dozen griffins lounged under a slate-roofed shelter on nests they had made with materials from around the gardens. Matheson assumed that the other half were out hunting. At this time of night, they were less inclined to make high-pitched calls, instead chirping as softly as griffins could. Blacksmith rose, sitting on his haunches with his talons stretched out in front.
Matheson stepped in front of Nanny to address the elder. “We are here to give you something to help with the poison that bear shifter put in your meat.”
Blacksmith inclined his head.
“How is the pain?” Nanny handed him a handful of vials and headed for the trough.
“Under control,” he replied.
She paused, glaring at him over her shoulder. “You don’t have to hold back with me.”
He ran his hand through his hair, suppressing a sigh. “The doctor’s elixirs are doing their job.”
“When did you last go to the Papaver Palace?”
The humiliation of having been bested by Magnus Rex and his wolves tightened his stomach and made his nostrils flare. “Not since I discovered their bodies.” He strode past her and emptied his vials, one by one, into the trough, trying not to think of both awful events. The emotions swirling around his head stole his words. Far too much had happened in the past few days. More than a dragon could bear. He swallowed hard and let out a long breath. “I went there yesterday to investigate who might have been dosing Mother and Father with papaver.”
“And they pointed you in the direction of Hertz.” He didn’t need to look at Nanny to see the curiosity burning in her eyes.
He nodded. “That, and the confession the bear shifters made yesterday, is ample evidence of Uncle’s guilt.”
She was silent for a long time, emptying her own vials and guiding Blacksmith to test the contents of the trough before allowing his brood to drink. After being drugged twice, Matheson couldn’t blame the griffin for being suspicious. He glanced at Nanny, wondering when she would talk. She was practically one of the family, filling in for Mother whenever she was too busy to sit at his sickbed. Her silences weren’t usually so long. “Something is on your mind.”