“No,” said Lily, pondering the thought. “But she had shifters’ blood in her. I couldn’t mate with a human. It would make no sense, particularly in context of a Ritual. I need two strong shifters who are preferably leaders.”
“Fair enough. Still, I want you to be happy. But for now I need some roast pig or whatever’s to eat around here,” said Rohan, standing and straightening his tunic. “I’d forgotten how ridiculous our clothing is,” he said. “Why has no one discovered the joys of a cotton t-shirt and a pair of jeans?”
“Welcome back to the middle ages,” laughed Lily.
* * *
11
Torn, Chapter Eleven
Lily spent idle afternoons wandering the grounds around Dundurn or hiking through the woods and bathing in the streams which meandered, vein-like, under green swaying branches of dense forest beyond the castle grounds. On occasion when she was a good distance from human society she shifted, allowing her graceful dragon form some time in the air to soar as she had as a youngster, above raging whitecaps in the ocean below or masses of green treetops, more free even than the birds who fled from her in terror as she approached.
When she’d been younger, her déor had been gangly and awkward like a fawn whose legs didn’t know which way to move. Her dragon’s long neck had made it look as though its head were too heavy for its thin body. But as she’d grown to her full height, the creature had grown as well, becoming beautiful, lithe as a bounding deer, but strong as a great lion.
As she took to the sky she often found herself gravitating toward the areas near the ocean’s shore. She loved to watch the waves strike the rock face of Cornwall’s coast with a force that had created great, gaping holes in the stone over time, ancient caves which called out to be explored. When she and Rohan had been little, they’d spent a good deal of time roaming around them and through their dark tunnels which occasionally flooded with the rising of the tide.
In spite of the days long ago when the twins had been held against their will in a barrow by their grandfather, neither of them associated these natural caverns with him or their ordeal.
And ironically enough, Lily realized, the absence of Conor seemed a much worse fate now than something that had occurred so long in the past. He remained firmly entrenched in her mind as though someone had fixed him in place, and nothing seemed to cure her of thoughts and fantasies of him—his eyes, mouth, body. And so she allowed the images to move through her thoughts, enjoying them while they lasted. So he’d become a spectre, a mere dream of a man. He was a pleasant one, and she enjoyed the company.
It was on one of her relaxing afternoons that she returned to Dundurn Castle to find her mother waiting for her.
“We’re having a guest at dinner tonight,” Gwynne told her. “Wear something nice.”
Her face, though warm and smiling, dictated that she meant business. This guest must be some sort of noble associate of Lily’s fathers’. Since the conflict so many years ago with Lord Drake, her kidnapper and grandfather who’d done his best to take down the wolves, the land had been largely at peace.
Often Lachlan and Rauth met with other noblemen in order to negotiate about matters of land and hierarchy, always in the interest of preserving the calm that had settled on their land. Some of the men who came for prolonged visits—many, in fact—didn’t realize that they were dealing with dire wolf shifters. They saw the alphas as aristocrats interested in financial dealings rather than the hulking creatures who hunted through the woods in packs.
Lily dressed for the evening in a long silk gown, much like what her mother tended so often to wear. But whereas Gwynne favoured golden shades, her daughter chose often to cover herself in crimson. Something in the colour empowered her, and as she gazed at her reflection when she’d dressed she thought of Conor, wondering what he would think of the sight of the young woman he seemed so attracted to as she was now; very much of a different era, a regal air to her. Her curves which had rendered her self-conscious in his time were accentuated by her clothing now, and she wore them with as much pride as she did the scales of her flame-coated déor.
It wasn’t long before a servant came to fetch her, telling her that dinner was to be served very soon. Lilliana let out a sigh as though venting any pent-up frustration and moved towards the door. Life was becoming too predictable again; too much like it had always been: following a line of duty, behaving according to her station, smiling for strangers while attempting to charm them. There was in her existence none of the wildness that she so craved, and none of the privacy.
Only thoughts of the forbidden man back in London allowed her any sort of secrecy.
She made her way towards the Great Hall, which was only ever used for occasions such as these. Otherwise her family ate in a much smaller, more secluded space where one father would talk about the troubles up north while the other spoke of the clan’s weekly hunt. In many ways they were like a regular family.
Of course, in many others, they were anything but.
The Hall was as Lily remembered: enormously long and hung with various tapestries, flags and the family crest, which was a relatively new design: a large shield decorated with a painting of a golden dragon with two great wolves on either side, seeming almost to worship the great creature between them. Lily had always liked the image: her fathers in awe of her mother, the dragon queen. She wondered if she could ever live up to that sort of reputation.
She sat next to Rohan, who was already in place at the long wooden table which spanned almost the entire length of the great chamber. He smiled knowingly when they made eye contact. Her brother always knew, like her mother did, what was in her mind.
“Another diplomatic session with a pile of stodgy aristocrats, I think,” he whispered. “I missed these evenings so much while I was away. Wait—no, I didn’t.”
Lily stifled laughter. “I only hope the aristocrats are old and offer our fathers a herd of goats and the heads of our mortal enemies as some sort of offering. That always makes for a fun evening.”
“Fingers crossed for livestock and severed heads then,” said Rohan.
A moment later, a guard at the door announced the visitor who was about to enter the chamber. “Lord Ramsey,” he said, his voice booming throughout the large room of stone and wood.
Lilliana and Rohan stood to greet the guest, as did the rest of the party.
A man came through the door, followed by two armed guards of his own. This in itself revealed that he was significant; most men who had entered the room over the years were alone, or at best accompanied by a wife or one submissive servant.
The guest was tall and broad-shouldered, like the dire wolf leaders. His eyes shone light green against bronzed skin, which made them seem almost to glow, though Lily couldn’t yet manage to make out their colour.
“A dragon, I think,” she murmured to Rohan, stunned at the man’s face.
“Looks like it,” her brother replied. “I hadn’t heard of other dragons in this part of the world—or elsewhere, for that matter. I was always under the impression that Lord Drake’s line—our line, I mean—was the last of them.”
Lily sat down, quietly contemplating the man who was being guided to the opposite side of the table. She found herself working to ensure that her mouth wasn’t gaping open as the servant led him to a seat directly opposite her. This strategic placement of their guest in such close proximity to her seemed almost too deliberate a move; something was up.
Gwynne walked over and stood next to the man in order to introduce him to her children.
“Lord Ramsey, this is Lord Rohan,” she said as her son nodded in greeting. “And this is Lilliana, whom I’ve told you about.”
“Ah, yes,” the man replied. The first words out of him revealed a deep, mature voice, and Lily found herself wondering how old he was. “More beautiful than I’d expected, even. But then, considering her mother, it’s no great surprise to find a daughter so lovely.”
Gwynne smiled, looking over t
he table at Lily as though in an attempt to read her expression.
“Thank you,” Lily replied dutifully, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Such forward compliments always felt disingenuous, and particularly on a first meeting. What was this guy’s angle, anyhow?
“Maybe you’ve just met a future mate,” whispered Rohan, who was leaning in, having pretended to have dropped his napkin on the ground. “He seems a little old for you, my little twin. But what a charmer.”
“He is that,” said Lily. “But he does seem awfully…experienced.” He was an attractive man, but had a mature look about him, like that of a leader. Her fathers had the same air about them; confidence, knowledge wrapped up in a handsome couple of packages.
“Lord Ramsey,” she said, “How long have you been in this part of Cornwall?”
“Only since this morning,” replied the man. “I’ve been meeting with your fathers on business all day. But I must say that I was greatly looking forward to this evening…and you.”
Again with the forwardness. Lily found herself reaching for Rohan’s arm as though for protection. Surely this man wasn’t intended for her.
Rauth, seated at the guest’s right, spoke up now. “You may as well hear it now: There will be a tournament, Lilliana. For your…hand. In a few days. Lord Ramsey’s son Graeme is one among many who plan to compete,” he said.
Lily’s first instinct was to stand up and scream. But she remained still, jaw locked to prevent the howl that she feared might emerge if she allowed her mouth to open.
A tournament? Who had decided this? Since when was this a plan? But Rohan’s hand went to her forearm and gripped it, telling her preemptively to calm herself. This isn’t a time to freak out, he was telling her. Settle down.
“Compete?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice calm. “Compete how?”
“As I said, in a tournament. It won’t be your typical jousting and fencing sort of thing. These are shifters we’re talking about, after all.”
“Oh, excellent,” said Rohan, his tone jovial. “So there’s going to be some blood. It’s been too long since anyone’s killed each other around here.”
“Quiet, you,” growled Gwynne, who was seated some distance away. In spite of the reprimand of her son she couldn’t help but smile. “The goal isn’t to watch them kill each other. It’s much like the competition that your fathers engaged in many years ago, to determine the wolf pack’s alpha.”
“Funny how well that worked out,” muttered Rohan under his breath.
“Two men will be selected as appropriate and worthy mates for Lilliana,” Lachlan interjected. So, Lily thought, all three of my parents had this all planned out. Well, good for them.
“I don’t suppose that I have any say in this,” she said quietly, avoiding eye contact with the dignified stranger across the table. She knew full well that her words might be offensive to him—after all, his son was her potential mate—but in that moment she didn’t care much.
“Lilliana,” said Rauth, his tone harsh. “You forget yourself. You’ve known all your life what your duties are. Don’t let a few months away in the modern era wash all of your upbringing away. If you must know, there is unrest among shifters building in the north and it would be in our best interest to have you find your mates sooner rather than later, to carry on the line. We’re talking about power, control of land and our legacy.”
Rauth was being what Lily had termed “Mister Grumpy Trousers” when she was young; when he got into his dictatorial moods, normally she knew to smile sweetly and charm him. And she never failed.
But she knew that he was right: her time in 2015 had changed her. She’d seen the possibilities which lay beyond Dundurn’s walls, and the notion of returning to the old ways was a difficult one to grasp. Particularly when she’d left a man in that other time who intrigued her so much…
She found herself staring pleadingly at Lachlan, the other of her two fathers, who simply winked at her. “We’ll speak about it later, Lilliana,” he said. “For now, let’s enjoy our meal.”
In spite of her initial anger, Lily felt remorse at having been rude to their guest and resolved to be kinder and to display some interest in his presence. It wasn’t his fault, after all, that her family had decided that it was time to breed her like a champion race horse.
“Tell us about your son,” she said, smiling and behaving in a manner more appropriate for a princess. Though what she wanted to ask was, “Does he look like you?” If he does, she thought, it wouldn’t be a bad thing at all.
“Graeme is an impressive young man,” said Lord Ramsey. “If I may say so myself. He is a trained fighter, which is more a result of the circumstances around our own land than anything. There’s been a good deal of conflict up there over the years with rival clans.”
“There are more dragons up there?” asked Lily, finding herself intrigued.
“Not so many dragons. Bears, wolves, flyers and others. Dragons, as you probably know, are a rarity. Ours is one of the few lines that’s carried on the species.”
“I knew that we were a rare sort. In fact, I grew up thinking that there were no others in existence.”
“There are a few about,” laughed the lord. “But many remain hidden for fear of the sort of warring that seems to come of their existence. It’s a bit of a curse that not only humans, but other shifters, want constantly to take us down.”
“Why is that, Lord Ramsey?”
“It’s what everything comes down to in the end: a profound desire for power. There are few who can take down a dragon and so we’re seen to have an irrevocable hold on our lands. There are those who resent our strength, as you can imagine.”
Lily felt a new gratitude that the human residents of Trekilling, the nearby town, were not only accepting but appreciative of the existence of her family as protectors and fair leaders.
“And so your son has fought in the wars?” she continued.
“He has. He is a skilled fighter.”
“And how does he feel about having to compete for my sister?” interrupted Rohan, who’d remained silent until that moment. Lily wondered if he was being mischievous or sincere, but ultimately she opted for the latter. Her brother would be concerned about her future happiness, and a reluctant, resentful mate was the last thing he’d desire for her.
“Competition is in his blood,” said Lord Ramsey. “It is in the winning of her hand that there might be difficulty, however.”
“How do you mean?” asked Lily. It sounded like Graeme would have the tournament in the bag.
“I mean that he was not raised as you were, Lilliana. While he is aware of the Ritual, he grew up with two parents as most humans do. You see, there were originally two of us males, both mated with Graeme’s mother as your fathers are with Lady Gwynne. But one died when Graeme was very young and he’s never been exposed to the notion of a woman sharing two mates.”
Lily felt herself tense at the concept of a mate who was unwilling to have another male around. That could be a problem.
“But,” Lord Ramsey continued, smiling warmly, “I have no doubt that for a mate as lovely as yourself he would find a way to compromise.”
Lily smiled at him. I hope you’re right, she thought. And if you’re not, I hope someone else wins.
12
Torn, Chapter Twelve
In the morning Lily went for another of her walks under the warm sun, allowing her fair skin to be warmed by its rays as she strolled in a modern sundress. Her path led her towards the rocky coast which sat far below the clifftop on which she stood.
But getting down would be easy enough. All she needed was to pull off the dress and turn into a fire-coated dragon.
Once in her déor’s winged form she allowed herself to soar downwards, carrying the dress between her adept talons. More than ever she wanted some time alone, to think. This tournament was all well and good, she knew; it was all part of a process, determining how her life was meant to play out. Two men, c
hosen for her: it was as it should be. And yet she found herself in a sort of state of modern rebellion, having watched the free women of the twenty-first century wander from place to place, free to experiment, to grow, to learn about themselves.
But she would never have the chance. She would not be returning to university in the fall, to London, to Conor. At best she could hope to love whichever men were chosen for her. Perhaps, at least, the events of the next several days could help her at last to forget the perfect man she’d left behind, the one who didn’t yet exist in her century.
When she arrived at the bottom of the cliff face she shifted and threw her dress back on to explore the sandy beach on foot, looking for hidden caverns as she had done so often with Rohan. No one would disturb her here, at least she hoped not.
The cliff was filled with variations, and at times the beach disappeared and she had to wade through water over precarious rocky surfaces in order to advance further along the shore—but this was half the fun, after all. She never worried about being pulled under the ocean’s surface. There were advantages to having her other half come in the form of a dragon, and more than once in her life she’d shifted while several feet under water and eased her way out, her great wings propelling her forward.
Today, though, she would remain above the surface without incident. She came to a large cave entrance near the sandier part of the shore and tiptoed in, a small girl’s hesitant excitement taking her over as though she were coming upon place never seen before. These caverns had always held such a fascination for her and for Rohan, as though the promise of hidden treasure or long-lost secrets lay within. Perhaps they would discover an ancient relic of King Arthur’s knights, or a love letter in a glass bottle. Or, of course, the standard chest filled with gold, hidden under a large X carved into the ground.
Seeking Her Mates Boxed Set: A Shifter Menage Serial (All Five Parts) Page 6