by Zoe Chant
“But my skin. It’s not hot like yours.”
Victor gave a dismissive flip of his hand. “Some dragons cannot breathe flame. Rather like some humans cannot sing. I am told that my great-grandfather on my mother’s side could not, and that in human form his skin was merely warm. If anyone notices that yours is the same, they will assume the same cause.”
“But—”
“Hush.” Victor laid his hot finger across her lips. “Think about it, Debbie. You look just like Eugenia, and you are taking her place. If you seem odd in some ways, they will simply assume that Eugenia is odd. No one would ever think to wonder if the person they see today is the same as the one they saw yesterday, or an imposter who looks exactly like them.”
“That’s true. If my boss suddenly seemed to forget how to work the coffee machine, I’d think it was weird, but it would never occur to me that it might actually be someone else pretending to be him.”
Reassured, she let Victor help her down from the carriage.
The first sight of the palace took her breath away. It was made of white marble, with towering spires and domes like giant pearls. Carved dragons adorned it, from adorably cartoonish gargoyles to a majestic beast sculpted to coil around a tower.
Victor took her to a small entrance at the side, not the main entrance with a huge flight of marble steps and immense double doors.
“Let’s avoid the crowds,” he said with a smile. To one of the guards at the door, he said, “Please tell the Queen Regent and the Lord Chamberlain of Doru that I wish to speak with them privately in the royal meeting room.”
“Yes, your highness!” The guard hurried off.
Victor led Debbie down the hall. Everywhere she went was more lavish and beautiful than anything she’d seen in her entire life, all white marble and embroidered tapestries and old portraits. And everything was decorated with dragons.
All the people they passed bowed and murmured, “Your highness.” Not one seemed to notice anything strange about her, though she felt extremely self-conscious about wearing jeans and a T-shirt in such lavish surroundings. Especially since women didn’t seem to wear pants in Rodica.
Finally, Debbie whispered, “Isn’t it weird that I’m in jeans?”
Victor shrugged, murmuring, “Perhaps they think you are in riding clothes. Perhaps they think it is your eccentric habit to dress like an American. No one here knows Princess Eugenia, so they will assume nothing.”
They came to a set of double doors, which a pair of guards opened.
“Curtsey when I introduce you,” he whispered.
Debbie nodded nervously. The guards closed the doors behind them, leaving her facing two people sitting in throne-like chairs.
One was a woman in her sixties, with snow-white hair piled atop her head and held firmly in place by golden combs and a golden crown. She wore a dress of gold brocade, and had sharp amber eyes like Victor’s.
The other was a man in his fifties, with gray hair, who wore an elegant suit that looked old-fashioned, like something a courtier in a fairytale illustration would wear.
“You found her!” the woman exclaimed. Then, turning to Debbie, she said, “Eugenia, whatever happened to you?”
The man shot Debbie a puzzled frown and didn’t speak.
“This is not Princess Eugenia,” said Victor. “Let me explain.”
He quickly recapped the story of how he met Debbie, and of the bargain they’d made. To her relief, he did not mention how she’d disbelieved him about being a dragon, cried, and yelled at him, but merely said that he’d shifted in the woods to prove himself to her.
Finally, he said, “And so I present to you my mate and wife-to-be, Debbie Jameson of Boonville, Tennessee. Debbie, this is the Queen Regent, my Aunt Agatha. And this is the Lord Chamberlain of Doru.”
Debbie attempted to curtsey, a gesture which fell flat partly because she’d never done it in her life, and partly because she was wearing jeans. “I’m honored to meet you.”
The Lord Chamberlain rubbed his finger over his chin, examining her closely. “How remarkable. The resemblance is truly striking. This changes everything.”
The Queen Regent didn’t even look at Debbie. Instead, she fixed her gaze on Victor. “As a temporary stand-in for the princess, this woman is a very lucky find. But as a permanent wife—as the mother of your children—she is impossible! Victor, this woman is as common as the year is long.”
Victor’s eyes flared gold. “She is not ‘this woman.’ Her name is Debbie, and she is my mate!”
“Be reasonable,” snapped the Queen Regent. “Your wife must be of royal blood, or your children cannot be recognized as heirs.”
“They can if no one ever finds out,” Victor said calmly.
“I forbid it,” said the Queen Regent.
Debbie was standing so close to Victor that she felt his chest expand as he drew a deep breath. “If you forbid this marriage, I will renounce my title and move to America, where no one can tell me who I can and cannot marry.”
“You are a prince! You cannot abandon your country!” shouted the Queen Regent.
“Lucas did,” Victor retorted.
As awkward as it felt being caught in the middle of a family quarrel—worse, a family quarrel about her—Debbie was so curious that she couldn’t help asking, “Who’s Lucas?”
“The former prince of Brandusa, one of our neighboring countries,” said Victor. Speaking more to the Queen Regent than to Debbie, he added, “A truly noble man, a legend in his own time, who gave up the throne for love.”
“You mean, a coward who ran away from his responsibilities,” corrected the Queen Regent.
“If you feel that way, why did you invite him to the wedding?” Victor demanded.
“I didn’t!” snapped the Queen Regent.
“I saw him on the guest list!”
The Lord Chamberlain gave a polite cough. “Princess Eugenia invited him. They were childhood friends.”
Identical looks of alarm came over the faces of Victor and the Queen Regent, and they spoke simultaneously. “Will he notice?”
The Lord Chamberlain considered Debbie. “I am not certain. They have not seen each other in years.”
Victor put his arm around Debbie’s shoulders. “Never mind Lucas. Aunt Agatha, you cannot part me from Debbie. Either I marry her tomorrow in Rodica, or I go to America with her and marry her there.”
The Queen Regent gave Victor a killing glare, but he stood firm. Tears prickled at Debbie’s eyes, she was so moved by how determined he was to stand up for her. He was willing to give up everything for her!
Finally, the Queen Regent said, “Lord Chamberlain? What is your opinion on Victor’s proposal?”
The Lord Chamberlain pursed his lips. “I fear that this American imposter will be found out, and that will be disastrous. I say no.”
The Queen Regent gave Victor a long, penetrating look, which he met coolly. Then she sighed. “I’m inclined to accept it. I agree with Victor that Eugenia is unlikely to return. And it would be very bad for both our countries, both politically and financially, if the marriage were to be canceled. To do so on such short notice might even cause the stock markets to crash.”
“They will also crash if it is discovered that Rodica inserted an imposter into the royal family,” pointed out the Lord Chamberlain. He shook his head. “So irresponsible of Eugenia.”
“We have no better options,” said the Queen Regent. “Since Victor is determined upon this course, so must we be. Victor, Lord Chamberlain, please step outside. I have something I wish to say to Debbie, woman to woman.”
“What is it?” Victor sounded suspicious.
“Traditional words of womanly wisdom concerning marriage, improper to be spoken in male company,” said the Queen Regent. When Victor didn’t budge, she elaborated, “Concerning the marriage bed.”
“Oh!” Victor’s cheekbones went pink. He was actually blushing. Debbie stifled a giggle. “Debbie? Do you want to hear... er...the
words of wisdom?”
She didn’t want to re-start the family fight, so she nodded. “Absolutely. I’d be honored.”
The men walked out, leaving her alone with the Queen Regent, who gave her a smile that made her think uneasily of sharp dragon teeth. “Since you’re going to be a part of the family, please call me Aunt Agatha.”
“Thank you.” After an awkward silence, Debbie added, “Aunt Agatha.”
The scary smile vanished, replaced by a stone face that was even scarier. “I am very happy for Victor, of course. I think of him as my son, you know. Be aware that I will eat anyone who does anything to hurt him.”
Debbie felt her eyes widen. “Um... literally?”
The toothy smile returned. “Perhaps. So, Debbie of Boonville, since you are a stranger to Rodica, let me inform you of some important things about it. This is a very traditional country. We do not believe in sex before marriage.”
No way was Debbie telling her fiancé’s terrifying aunt that she was a virgin. But she was clearly expected to say something in response, so she settled on, “The marriage is tomorrow. I think we can manage to wait one night.”
This clearly didn’t satisfy Aunt Agatha. Her eyes deepened in color, turning a gold so bright and hot that it seemed to glow. Menacingly, she added, “If I thought you and Victor would obey, I would forbid sex after the marriage as well. But I know you would not, so I will not try. But I forbid procreative sex. Debbie Jameson, you must do nothing that would result in a pregnancy.”
“What!?” Debbie exclaimed. “Victor can’t ever become king unless he gets me pregnant.”
“Victor can’t ever become king unless he gets a woman of royal blood pregnant,” Aunt Agatha corrected her. “Which is certainly not you! If you get pregnant with a commoner baby and it’s ever found out, the people will riot. Maybe Victor thinks you can keep up this charade forever, but he always has been a dreamer. This is just another one of his charming dreams that can never come true.”
The Queen Regent’s golden eyes seemed to burn into Debbie’s flesh as she leaned forward. “Princess Eugenia will return. And then you will go and she will take your place. No one ever need know that there had been a switch. You are not Victor’s wife. You are merely a placeholder.”
Debbie could do nothing but stare speechlessly at Aunt Agatha.
“But a well-paid placeholder, I assure you. Leave quietly when the time comes, and you will leave with your weight in gold.” The Queen Regent gave a dismissive flip of her hand—a gesture Debbie recognized as the same one Victor had used to assure her that no one would ever learn of her deception, and everything would be fine. “Say nothing to Victor of this conversation. Tell him merely that I instructed you on the promised womanly wisdom.”
Debbie managed a nod.
When Victor came back in, he gave her an inquiring glance. “Is everything all right?”
She nodded again, more firmly this time. “Yep. Got plenty of womanly wisdom.”
Victor clearly didn’t want to know about that. “Let me show you to your chambers.”
He walked her to her chambers, which of course were exquisite and lavish, and introduced her to Bogdana, her lady in waiting. Everything was perfect and wonderful. Like a dream.
Before Victor left her to sleep in her luxurious canopied bed, he kissed her and said, “I love you. I can’t wait for our wedding night. I’m so glad it’s tomorrow!”
She wanted to believe that he was right. She wanted to believe that they could be married forever, and have a family together, and keep their happily ever after.
But a deeper part of her told her that Aunt Agatha had told the truth: it was all just a beautiful dream. At any moment, Princess Eugenia would return. And then Debbie would wake up to her real life.
Alone.
The morning of Debbie’s wedding day went by in a dizzying whirl of activities.
She was kept away from Victor, as by tradition she wasn’t supposed to see him until they exchanged vows. Not being able to see the man she was to marry made the whole thing feel even more unreal.
Debbie was fitted into a gorgeous wedding gown of white silk covered with dragons whose bodies were seed pearls, breathing puffs of flame made of tiny sparkling diamonds. Her veil was fluttering white gauze, her hair was adorned with white roses entwined around a silver crown, and every step she took sent up flashes of reflected sunlight from the diamonds that encrusted her delicate shoes.
At long last, she was whisked into the palace rose garden. There she stood on a stage, waiting for Victor in front of a gigantic crowd.
It seemed an eternity before he stepped on to the platform. A cheer arose when he did. Debbie wanted to cheer too. He was stunningly handsome and sexy in his wedding clothes of black silk, including a swirling black cape embroidered with golden dragons, and a golden crown. He had an actual sword belted at his waist, which Debbie found incredibly sexy. The sunlight shone on his hair, making it look like black satin. But best of all was the happiness she saw come over his expression when he first caught sight of her.
As the priest spoke the solemn marriage vows, Debbie tried not to hear all the times he said, “Princess Eugenia of Doru.” She wanted to think of herself as getting married for real, even though the marriage probably wasn’t legal.
Or was it? Victor had put the golden wedding ring on her finger. She’d said “I do” to him. The priest was calling her by the wrong name, but Debbie was still the one who’d gotten married.
She hoped.
“I do,” said Victor. And she could see true sincerity and love in his amber eyes.
“You may kiss the bride,” said the priest.
Victor swept her into his arms. She melted into his passionate kiss. Every time he touched her, she felt like her bones were liquefying with sexual heat. She pressed herself against him, feeling the fire within his body as if there was nothing between them at all, not even the thin fabric of their clothes.
When they finally parted, she looked with dazed eyes at the cheering crowd. Much as she’d always wanted a lavish wedding, she couldn’t wait for it to over... and for her wedding night to begin.
But first, there was a huge party to get through. And what seemed like a million guests to greet.
Debbie was nervous, knowing that some of them knew Eugenia. But for a quick meet-and-greet, all she needed to do was nod and smile and agree whenever anyone said something like, “My, how you’ve grown” or “Remember all those good times at the palace” or “Cosmina sends her love.”
After a while, she began to relax. No one seemed suspicious. Up till then, she’d glommed herself to Victor’s side like a barnacle. But once she realized no one was going to demand that she name Princess Eugenia’s three best friends from third grade in descending order of how much she’d liked them, she let him drift away until they were separated by the crowd, and finally lost to view.
A tall man approached her. “Princess Eugenia?”
The man had amber eyes and chiseled features resembling Victor’s, though his hair was golden rather than black. Debbie recalled him as one of the bazillion wedding guests she’d met that day, but she had no idea of his name. Either she’d forgotten his name, or he’d forgotten to introduce himself, or she was supposed to already know who he was.
She smiled politely. “Yes?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I never introduced myself.”
As the man paused to push a lock of hair out of his eyes, Debbie gave him her best curtsey. Given the amount of practice she’d had that day, she’d gotten pretty good at them, if she did say so herself.
The man bowed. “My name is Agne Balan. Victor and I are second cousins once removed.”
“Of course,” Debbie said. “I thought you must be related. Pleased to meet you.”
“Please come with me,” he said. “Victor has a special surprise for you.”
“Thank you for coming to fetch me.”
She followed him through the garden, to a small gazebo
. He opened the door, then stepped back to let her enter first. Debbie stepped inside. Agne followed her, closing the door behind them.
The gazebo was empty, except for scattered chairs. She and Agne were alone together.
Uneasy, Debbie said, “Where’s Victor?”
Agne’s eyes were amber, like her husband’s. But instead of the warm looks of love and hot looks of passion Victor’s held when he turned his gaze on her, this man’s eyes fixed her with an icy stare.
“I know you’re not Princess Eugenia,” he said. “And in a few minutes, everyone else will know too.”
SEVEN
Victor
Victor had extremely mixed feelings as he gazed upon his lovely mate on their wedding day. On the one hand, he wanted the solemn ceremony in which they pledged their eternal devotion to go on forever. On the other hand, he wished it was already over so he could strip Debbie bare and ravish her.
Her wedding gown hugged her slim hips and emphasized her breasts, which were the perfect size to hold in his hands. Her eyes sparkled with happiness, her hair curled in a way that made him long to run his fingers through it, and her lips were so plump and kissable. Every time he looked at her, his perfectly tailored pants got more and more uncomfortably tight.
Someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned, blinking as if he’d just woken up from sleep. It was Aunt Agatha.
Leaning over, she muttered, “For the sake of the realm, don’t get her pregnant.”
Victor felt himself flush hot with an unpleasant mixture of anger and embarrassment. He hissed, “I do not wish to discuss this now. Or ever!”
He turned away, and almost collided with a plump red-headed woman he didn’t recognize.
“Excuse me,” he said as he maneuvered around her.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Prince Victor, if you have a moment...”
“Please ask me later.” Victor hurried away before she could delay him any further. He regretted his rudeness, but he did not want to continue that conversation with Aunt Agatha, and it would happen whether he liked it or not unless he left her vicinity.