To Catch a Prince (Age of Gold Book 2)

by May Sage

  She expected her sister to call her insane. To say they, two mere women, had no chance of coming out of this quest alive. Protest that Xandrie wasn’t worth it, perhaps.

  “Right. Let’s go buy horses.”

  7

  the Ceremony

  One month later

  Vincent stood in his cousin’s chamber, arms crossed behind his back again, staring at the walls beyond their capital city. The last few weeks had been insane. First, their strongest Aether-made walls fell at the hands of an unknown evil, then, a Dragon Rider - the first Dragon Rider in a thousand years - came to them.

  Something was changing. He felt it in the air.

  He had been summoned early, on the morning of Rhey’s wedding, because there was a disturbing report to speak of.

  “Our spies tell us there’s talk of a new Enchantress, born in the north. We can’t be sure, but they say she’s headed southeast.”

  Towards them.

  “Enchantresses aren’t a force of evil,” Nathos reasoned

  “And perhaps, in her mind, annihilating dragons is no evil deed. Our kind isn’t known for our warm and fuzzies.” He turned to the King. “We should delay your wedding. Investigate this Enchantress before the whole country decides to drink for a week.”

  Weddings were always an event for their kind - dragons were long lived and rarely formed a union more than once in their lifetime, which made for quite the party when one of them tied the knot. A royal wedding? No one was going to be sober this month. There would be guards posted at all times but Vincent couldn’t tell what state they’d be in. It was fair to assume that the security of their realm would be a little lax, for a time.

  Rhey growled in response to that proposition. Actually growled, before baring his teeth. Vincent had to laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

  “Right. No more talk of delaying your nuptials.” It was good to see the King in such disposition. Gone were the vacant looks, the darkness. Madness had been chased away the moment he’d found a woman who could complete his soul. “But let me double the guard, at least. I could also take a few men now, go investigate the threat and come back…”

  “You plan on missing my wedding?” Now the King sounded hurt.

  Vincent sighed. “Fine. Let’s just ignore these rumors. What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?”

  He intended to be entirely ironic, but the King chose to take his words at face value. “Good. Let us tie that noose around my neck, shall we?”

  Never had he seen a man so keen to relinquish his freedom. Forcing his worries out of his mind, at least for a few hours, Vincent smiled.

  “Yes, cousin. Let’s.”

  He was truly glad for Rhey, even though his parents would be positively unbearable now, no doubt. If his cousin, so close to him in age, could get married, surely Vincent could oblige them and do the same.

  Viktor and Mula were right in front of the Thrones, pointedly staring at their son; Vincent ignored them as much as he could.

  It wasn’t his fault. He had no Xandrie - no magical, mystical Dragon Rider made for him. When they found him a woman who looked at him the way the bride looked at her King as she walked down the long path from the door to the back of the Throne Hall, they could talk. Until then, none of their protests would move him.

  “She was shaped after a goddess,” Rhey declared, although Xandrie was thinner than what was fashionable. Her athletic built was evident, even in her flowing gold dress.

  Vincent tapped Rhey’s shoulder in a show of support.

  All was well, until, all of a sudden, it wasn’t.

  What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen? He’d asked in jest, forgetting that fate had a way of playing with the words poor mortals saw fit to say.

  The doors opened violently and Vincent felt his body freeze before he could rush towards the threat. His, and every other man, woman, and child in the room. How was this possible? He knew of no power able to control a horde of dragons, bears, and other creatures, with so much ease. Yet she did, effortlessly; he’d just seen her wave her hand.

  Vincent was forced to witness the whole horrific thing, entirely powerless to place himself between the threat and his cousin’s bride, as his instincts demanded.

  The mage was covered by a dark cloak, just like the one who’d broken their ward, the one they’d only just defeated at Norda.

  How had she broken the wards for the second time, without them hearing a single word from their guards? There had been no raven, no messenger. His mind couldn’t comprehend it.

  The second thing he didn’t quite get was the fact that he wasn’t really panicking, now that he’d taken a good look at her. He should have been. This creature could seize a sword and behead them all and they wouldn’t be able to stop her. Now was the time for his heart to thump hard in his chest, for adrenaline to course through his core.

  None of that happened.

  The mage stopped in her tracks and removed the hood that fell over her green eyes. Green eyes he’d seen before; he recognized them down to his soul.

  The mage wasn’t beautiful; her chin was small, her little nose, turned up, and her mouth, pouty. Adorable is what he would have called her, if she hadn’t been so powerful. There was a little mole at the corner of her mouth and her shapely eyebrows had been pierced. So, adorable and fierce, edgy.

  He couldn’t stop staring at her, like she was a puzzle he needed to make sense of.

  Vincent took a while to realize that he’d been released from the spell holding him in place; he couldn’t yet move, but he saw Rhey trying to pull Xandrie behind him. His bride wasn’t having any of that. She pushed past him and advanced towards the stranger.

  “Talia?” said she.

  Vincent turned to his future Queen, watching in disbelief as she moved to embrace the dangerous mage. The entire Kingdom gasped when the mage returned her hug, holding her close, pulling her as hard as her arms could.

  Watching from the sideline, Vincent saw a great many things in this hug. He saw protectiveness, relief, and above all, love.

  “You’re here,” the mage said softly. She’d whispered, yet her raspy voice rang clear as a bell; Vincent committed it to memory. “You’re really alright.”

  The mage had been worried; no, terrified. She seemed close to tears now.

  Rhey’s shoulders relaxed. “At ease,” the King ordered.

  The hundred men in the Hall sheathed their swords; Vincent hadn’t even drawn his, fascinated as he was.

  Meanwhile, the bride took the mage’s hand and pulled her forward, almost running to bring her close to the thrones.

  “Talia,” Xandrie turned to Rhey, “meet my future husband. You made it just in time.” And then, she astounded them all; all except Vincent, who’d seen it in her eyes long before the words flew out of Xandrie’s mouth. “Rhey, this is my little sister.”

  Her little sister.

  Vincent snorted, thinking of the grumbling Elders who’d cried that Xandrie brought them nothing; no dukedom, no army, no foreign relations. It had mattered very little, for she’d won the Claiming, so the point was moot. But now, they were twice as foolish, for the future Queen may just have made their kingdom ally to an Enchantress.

  8

  The Pretty Man

  “I’m so glad you’re here for this,” said Xandrie, and Talia wondered when she’d be pulled out of this dream.

  It was truly unbelievable to see her sister thus appareled, a King watching her like she was, indeed, a Queen. Unbelievable, and yet, not at all, now she saw it with her own eyes. Her new station seemed to suit Xandrie very well, although Talia could still recall her running around with her tattered dresses, hems dirty, as she’d been gone into the wilderness all day. That sister was still there, behind it all.

  Xandrie certainly wasn’t dirty now, in her white and gold ceremonial gown, a diadem on her soft, dark hair.

  “I was going to send word home soon - I figured you’d still be getting Blessed a
t the capital.”

  Ah. That.

  Of course there would be questions about it. Talia’s jaw tightened.

  She hadn’t yet spoken of what had occurred in Leyres, because what could she say when her sisters asked how she’d been made into what she was now? That she had made her deal with her Shadow? Her Darkness? That she was evil?

  She wasn’t. Her Shadow wasn’t. But she’d certainly be perceived that way.

  “I was sent back home four weeks ago,” she replied carefully. “And when I found out what happened to you, I set out south with Aleria, to help you.”

  Xandrie’s eyes widened and a coughing fit started. “Aleria?” she repeated, astonished. She then twisted her neck to look behind them. “Where is she now?”

  “Outside the gate, with our horses. The idea was to get you out of here and flee.” The King raised a brow, as if daring her to try, but Talia shrugged it off. If he’d heard his sister had been last seen getting carried off by a dragon, he might also have stormed the gates. “I’ll go get her.”

  “Nonsense, you stay right here; we’ll send someone. I’ve missed you so.” Xandrie embraced Talia a little tighter. “Aleria is our elder sister,” she told her King and the man standing at his side.

  Now that he caught Talia’s attention, she had a hard time turning her head away from him. Not the King; his best man. With dark blond tresses, tied in elaborated knots on the side of his head and let down on the other side, he would have been quite pretty if there hadn’t been a raw, masculine, dangerous edge to his beauty. While the King, with his majestic allure and his powerful stance, was the first to silently demand anyone’s deference, his companion seemed wilder. Darker. Just as handsome.

  “You heard Her Grace,” the man’s suave and low voice said. “Go get her sister.”

  Behind him, three men inclined their heads and wordlessly obeyed his command. Talia was so startled and impressed she might just have left them to walk to their doom, but she regained hold of her sense in time.

  “No, wait,” she called. “I do really have to go. Aleria will behead whichever one of you she doesn’t manage to bespell if you approach her without warning.”

  Xandrie laughed. “And what man doesn’t she bespell?” she turned to her fiancé and warned him, “Aleria, you see, is the beautiful one amongst us. You’d better not change your mind and wed her after seeing her.”

  The King replied, “Never,” and Talia swooned on her sister’s behalf.

  “Go, and come back to us promptly, then. This wedding will have to be delayed until I have both my sisters at my side. And tomorrow, Talia, we will talk.”

  Talia squeezed her tight, before turning on her heels and running out the doors.

  She was out, under the glorious early afternoon sunshine, before she noticed steps trailing her; four sets of feet, to be exact. She was going too quickly to stop suddenly, but from the corner of her eye, she could see the Pretty Man with a braid running right next to her. Only, while she was going as quickly as her feet could carry her, he seemed to barely exert any effort. Show off. She turned her head to see three guards behind them. Who was he, that he needed such an escort whenever he stepped out?

  “I found my way here, I’ll certainly find my way back, gentlemen.”

  “No doubt, but the King will not see his wedding delayed further than necessary. We’ll ensure no guard gets in the way.”

  “Come, now. Your hair’s longer than mine, and in better state, too. You can’t think I seriously need your protection.”

  If she’d doubted it, Pretty Man revealed that he was a dragon, as he growled low, threateningly; a sound so raw and primal the ground beneath her feet shook a little.

  She refused to admit that it made her weak in the knees as much as it amused her.

  “You misunderstand me entirely, witch,” he replied. “I was thinking of protecting the guard.”

  So, the man wasn’t stupid then. She smiled.

  “What sorcery should we expect of the beautiful one?” he asked, visibly intrigued.

  Talia managed not to roll her eyes.

  “If Aleria bathed in the blood of a thousand virgins, she couldn’t be fairer. But the sorcery you’d get if you intended her any harm would be along the line of warts as big as fists on your face and itches in the crack of your backside.”

  They’d reached the gates of the lovely city, with its gold tower, its white paved roads and the hundreds of flat-roofed, columned antique homes.

  Talia hadn’t observed Telenar with a kind eye on her way in, as she’d believed her sister imprisoned within its high walls. Now she saw it for what it was, and saw why it was called the Golden City.

  They left the gates, heading to the border of the nearby woods, and, at last, a familiar presence made itself known.

  “No trick, Aleria, they’re with me.”

  They were only answered by silence. “Xandrie isn’t captive. She is, believe it or not, to be wedded as soon as we return.”

  That did get her cautious sister to come out from behind a tree.

  “Wedded?” she repeated with a frown.

  Talia felt the four dragons behind her stiffen when they got a good look at the annoyingly perfect creature waiting for them.

  “Yes, wedded.”

  “Last time a man had the pretense of wanting to wed our sister, she burned the heck out of him, and with good reason, too.”

  “Well, he was a weasel, more than a man - and he certainly didn’t look like the freaking King she’s somehow ended up snagging in four months.”

  Aleria dropped her guard.

  “You jest.”

  “On my honor, I do not. She’s sent me to bring you back, so we may witness the whole thing.”

  “A royal wedding?” Aleria pouted. “Right after traveling for three weeks, being sweaty, dirty, and dressed in rags?”

  Talia self-consciously looked down at herself; her sister was right, on all accounts.

  “I can affirm that, should the two of you wear nothing but potato bags, you’d still lighten any room you walk into,” said the Pretty Man, offering his arm to Aleria as he pacified her.

  Talia managed not to roll her eyes again.

  “Let us go and see our kin wedded. Before the ball tonight, I’ll arrange for dresses.” Then, he turned to Talia. “And, perhaps, a bath.”

  What. An. Arse.

  9

  The Threat

  The beautiful one wasn’t, in fact, as captivating as the frightening one, to Vincent, in any case.

  Aleria certainly was fair. He wouldn’t have hesitated to call her one of the most delightfully beautiful women he’d encountered. Her blonde locks and perfectly symmetrical features made her perhaps a little more traditional than her sisters and many heads turned whenever she stepped inside a room. Even the most boring man he knew, Elder Nathos, couldn’t stop staring at her. But Vincent felt compelled to yet again turn to her younger sibling.

  Talia Astria. The woman who could have killed them all. Her sister had been right, they could have been more polished tonight, but although he hadn’t been able to help himself from teasing her, her scent was making him adjust himself discreetly each time he got a whiff of it. She smelled good enough to eat. He knew where he would start, right at the back of her long slim neck.

  Nathos managed to stop admiring Aleria long enough to preside over the ceremony that declared Xandrie wife to his cousin and Queen of Farden. She wore the crown well, like it had been made for her head of brown curls; her posture was stiff and noble; she softened it with her smile.

  Vincent, yet again, glanced towards Talia and found her beaming, visibly delighted for her sister as Rhey kissed her lips, and then, shocking absolutely no one, threw her over his shoulder and went out the doors.

  “Elza! Vincent! Take care of my sisters!” the newly appointed Queen screamed.

  Demelza promised she would; Vincent inclined his head, trying not to visualize how, exactly, he wanted to ‘take care’ of one of the sis
ters.

  What was wrong with him? Shiftless or not, he was a dragon, which meant he was no stranger to flesh desires, but never had he felt like this, all of a sudden, without warning or cause. Besides, the female was human; she wasn’t the sort of woman he ought to look at to satisfy his needs. Dragons were beasts, and, in that regard, he was no different. He fucked very hard, for a long time, and in a manner that would split the girl in two. She was no she-dragon, no bear, and not even a Rider; nature hadn’t shaped her to take the likes of him.

  And, furthermore, he knew that human women of birth like her didn’t share the beds of just anyone. Dragons and other shifters saw sexuality very differently; part of the need their beasts demanded. Demelza, princess by blood, one of the most elevated women in Farden, had had plenty of lovers, for instance. Talia, a human from a small town, would only spread her legs for a husband, or perhaps a fiancé.

  That should have been enough to make him ignore her. He was no rake. Pretending to be serious and running out after he’d been satisfied wasn’t something he was able to do to anyone, and especially not his cousin’s sister-in-law. Yet, fully aware of what she’d demand for her favor, he found himself still desiring her. Imagining how impossibly tight she’d be, he groaned and turned on his heels.

  By all the gods, he needed out of there, fast.

  He’d only taken a step when someone caught him by the hem of his sleeve. He turned, frowning at Demelza.

  “Don’t even think of running now,” she half whispered, sending him a knowing look. “Your parents are staring. Any more of this behavior, and they’ll tie the poor gal to a bed until you’re done putting little Vasilis inside her.”

  Why, oh why, in the name of every holy fuck, didn’t that sound like a bad idea?