The Seeking Series Box Set

by D. R. Grady

  “It’s amazing that he can shrink and expand.”

  “It is. I believe his natural state is the huge beast you first met, but to make himself less imposing, Aern reduces his size. And of course, when I was ten, he thought he should protect me as a smaller dragon.”

  “You weren’t very big then.” Stefana’s amused gaze swept over her. “Not that you are now, either.”

  “Too true.” Unfortunately. Perhaps if she was taller and more statuesque, like Stefana, she might catch the eye of . . . Be careful. “Aern can return to his normal size in seconds though, so he provided excellent protection at a time when I sorely needed it.”

  “He doesn’t sleep under your bed now, correct?”

  “Of course not. First off, I’m pretty certain he snores.”

  “What does that have to do with our conversation?”

  “Well, he’s a dragon, right?”

  “Yes.” Stefana’s dark hair gleamed in the flickering lamp lights as they continued their journey to the castle.

  “So he has dragonfyre, and some of it comes out of his nose.”

  “Oh yes. So if he snores, there’s a possibility he might set your bed on fire.”

  “It was cause for concern for a time, but he never did set my bed on fire.”

  “Has he ever set Vidar on fire?”

  Raene allowed a soft laugh. “Did you take notice of the buckets of water scattered around the chamber?”

  “I did.”

  “Vidar keeps those handy for just those accidents.”

  “So Vidar does have some charred trousers?”

  “From what I gathered, yes. He’s quick though.”

  Before they could continue their very interesting conversation, they were approached by several of the castle staff who required her attention. She and Stefana parted to prepare for the party this evening.

  The cloud of doom did not dissipate.

  An uncertain future did this to a woman.

  Chapter 9

  The Duke of Lockwillow, first name Haines, greeted her with his usual hearty hug and a beaming smile. But Raene had known him long enough to recognize when his smile didn’t reach his eyes. She squeezed his hand, as a matching sorrow welled in her heart.

  He stopped beaming to peer intently at her. “I am so sorry about your mother, Raene.”

  “As am I. None of us would have chosen her end to arrive via this horrific illness.”

  “She and your father were our dearest friends.” Indeed, the Duke and Duchess had been the best of friends to the Queen and King. Haines was her mother’s first cousin, so they were as close as siblings. A terrible bout of influenza had carried the Duchess off to the next realm a year ago. A tragic accident had taken her father several years before, and now her mother faced the perils of blue fever.

  “You’re the only parent I’ll have left.”

  The duke shut his eyes. His deep breath harsh in his lungs.

  “I never imagined Adrianna and I would be unable to have children. We were so blessed that your parents shared you.”

  “You are not anywhere near your dotage, you know. There is plenty of time for you to find another bride.” She cringed as she spoke, and he recognized this.

  “It has been on my mind, but it seems so . . . cold.”

  “I understand. Now is not the time to be looking for a bride.”

  “No, fortunately.” His knuckles whitened as his hand fisted.

  Raene understood all too well, so she covered his fist with hers. His turned to grip hers with fierce strength. They took comfort from each other but were soon parted by the guests queuing behind her.

  The duke had certainly not chosen to hold this celebration, but tradition dictated the party. Although another year older, it didn’t show in Haines’ face or lean build. The Duke of Lockwillow was in his prime.

  They had both endured such sorrow. Saying goodbye to his wonderful wife, Adrianna, had been horrendous. The duchess had been a surrogate mother to her, and a welcome escape when the rigors and politics of court life overwhelmed her.

  Raene’s eyes burned, forcing her to blink rapidly. The ache in the back of her throat wasn’t as easily quelled, but she forced herself to circulate among the richly attired guests. There were plenty of headpieces to admire, and men in fancy dress, with extravagant cuffs and well fitting trousers.

  Another pair, a little charred at the ends, zoomed into her mind, but she quelled it at once. She had no reason for thinking of him right now, and anyway she probably needed her wits about her.

  Her mother purported more decisions and deals were made at parties, often on the dance floor, than during actual meetings. Through the years, Raene had witnessed plenty of evidence to support this theory.

  She eschewed the potent brews circulating this evening. Instead, lifting a glass of bubbling water from a tray, she took careful sips. This beverage choice should settle her nervous stomach and keep her alert.

  “Princess Raene.” The voice that spoke to her did not aid in her endeavors to quell her stomach gyrations.

  “Kjell, how are you this evening?” She reluctantly faced him.

  His slicked back blond hair was all a lady could ask for. He regularly bathed and knew how to use a sword. He never lacked for partners on the dance floor. But his brown eyes always seemed a little cold and calculating to her.

  “I am well. The question is however, how are you?” Then there was his ability to know the right thing to say. A trait oft appreciated and touted by many.

  His question lacked sincerity, at least to her ears, and therefore left her chilled.

  “I am pleased to celebrate another year with the Duke of Lockwillow.” She purposely misunderstood. While she had grown up with him, although he had a few years on her, Raene didn’t have to answer his question if she didn’t wish to.

  Such a personal query from a close friend would be welcome and warming. From him however. . .

  The slight incline of his head toward her was proper. Even his vaguely respectful air enacted correct courtly behavior. Yet she forcibly had to suppress the sudden urge to scratch as though bugs crawled on her.

  “It is a festive occasion.” Those cold eyes raked her, and she raised her hand to start scratching when Stefana appeared at her side.

  Sending her friend a look of gratitude, she greeted Stefana in lieu of chafing.

  “Hello, Princess Raene.” Stefana’s steady gaze was knowing. Her greeting to Kjell was proper.

  “Lady Stefana. I hope you are well?”

  “I am, thank you. If you will please excuse us? My papa wishes to speak with the princess.” Stefana wasted no time whisking her away to greet and hug Stefana’s parents. Another couple who had been good friends to her parents, and their host.

  At least both enjoyed good health.

  “Thank you.” She whispered in an aside to Stefana.

  “You’re welcome. He gives me an odd feeling.”

  “Yes. Like there are bugs crawling on one.”

  Stefana winced. “That is exactly so.” She shivered. “We must avoid him for the rest of the evening.”

  Raene admired her friend’s gown even as she agreed. “You look lovely tonight.”

  Indeed, no one else could have worn the black and purple gown to such effect. The superb color combination highlighted Stefana’s dark beauty. In excellent taste, and well made, the evening dress showcased her friend’s striking good looks.

  “As do you. Green certainly suits you.” The pale green gown had been an impulse, but it did suit her. With panels of cream lace atop the green silk, the gown was all it should be for this celebration without being ostentatious. Dignified and elegant and it didn’t clash with her auburn tresses.

  More people circulated around them as they neared the end of the evening. Several of the eligible warriors in the kingdom joined her and Stefana. Many of the single women were dancing, and one of the hovering men asked Stefana to join him.

  Since she had no reason not to, Stefan
a accepted. That left Raene with the man’s two companions. Both eyed her with looks similar to Kjell’s. Only she didn’t feel compelled to rub creepy crawlies off her skin. Still, her nape hairs shivered.

  “Have you made plans for your future yet, Princess?” One of them, slightly portly, with the masculine good looks many young women admired, asked. Raene couldn’t recall his name, despite having just heard it.

  “No. There hasn’t been time to ponder.” Allowing her eyes to harden as she had seen her mother do with recalcitrant people, Raene met his gaze head-on.

  He had the grace to flush and step back.

  His friend drew her attention to himself by touching her arm. A risqué gesture, as they were both unmarried and not related. “We only inquire as we have heard your mother is not well.”

  “She is not.”

  “You will become queen.” Satisfaction laced his voice. This man was lean and long, with a slight squint and an air of competency about him. His name was Rojer, and he had been a friend in their youth. He was also skilled with a sword and kept his family coffers overflowing.

  “Not until . . .” She couldn’t bear to say it. Both men leaned closer and offered sympathy.

  She appreciated this until the one whose name she couldn’t remember said, “You’ll need to select your king then.” Her companions straightened their shoulders, in a preening manner.

  A shiver chased down her spine. No. Neither of these men, and certainly not Kjell would do. She made some inane remark before making a hasty exit.

  Haines, their reluctant host, claimed her for a dance. “What has upset you?”

  Raene explained her encounter with the three single men tonight. His pained look mollified her. “You do realize they’re all vying for your attention because each is seeking the kingship.”

  Her stomach revolted. “I have not one bit of interest in any of them.”

  “Of course not. This has been thrust on you.” Haines gripped her tighter, as though seeking to protect her. “Raene, you must choose wisely.” His eyes fixed her with a look she couldn’t identify.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Your mother seems to believe you have your heart set on a certain man.” His eyes gleamed kindly.

  “I haven’t . . .” She nearly gagged on the next thought and couldn’t continue speaking. The thought of her mother’s death was too great to bear. “I can’t.”

  He stopped dancing to pull her into an embrace that offered the comfort she needed. Those around them allowed for a respectful amount of distance. Stefana and her mother, Stella, appeared at their side and swept her off to the ladies with-drawing room where they set her to rights again.

  “How many of these men have bothered you tonight?” Stella picked lint off Raene’s dress as easily as she wiped away tears.

  “Three so far.”

  Stella’s mouth tightened as she sniffed. “It is time for us to take our leave.”

  With that statement she rounded up her husband, hugged their host, who aided them in reaching the door without interruption, and then they were hurrying down the stairs to their transport back to the castle.

  “I’m sorry for that, Raene.” Henry, Stefana’s father, apologized despite this situation not being his fault. He was tall, lean, with dark spectacles, thinning hair, and an earnest expression.

  “You didn’t know.”

  Stella and Henry exchanged glances. “We suspected, but neither of us are in a position to interfere.”

  “Why are they circling me now?” Raene yanked the hem of her skirt out from under her dainty dancing slipper. “My mother is still alive.”

  Stefana’s parents again exchanged looks, and Raene frowned before peering at her best friend. Stefana appeared every bit as confused.

  “It’s too soon to be certain.” Henry’s firm tone implied the subject was closed, and she was grateful.

  The thought of a husband turned her stomach.

  Chapter 10

  “How many men must she contend with this evening?”

  Aern snorted, but it was faint so nothing got singed. “All who managed to circle her.”

  Vidar’s hand gripped his sword hilt in a reflexive gesture. He forced himself to release the weapon handle, then took a deep breath. It wasn’t enough.

  The urge to wield his sword, in the manner of a madman, threatened to overwhelm him. He indulged in a second deep breath, then a third, and forced his innards to cease clamping tight. Every muscle in his body was hardened for battle. Not only inappropriate, but also ridiculous.

  “Why don’t you go see her if you’re concerned?” Aern’s tail flicked back and forth.

  “That is not proper.”

  “You’re her protector. I’d think it would be fine for you to inquire about her safety.”

  “I am a warrior.”

  Aern stood, his majestic height a match for their surroundings. “Fine. I’ll call on her.”

  “It’s more appropriate for you.” Relief spiraled through him.

  This snort did char the stone where Vidar’s crystal console resided.

  “Easy,” Vidar cautioned, diving for a bucket. The flames died when he splashed them with water, careful to keep the liquid from the surface. It probably wouldn’t harm his device, but he didn’t intend to take any chances. Losing contact with the outside world didn’t appeal.

  Not that he’d been much in contact with it for over half a century, still, the crystal made life nicer.

  Aern shrank as he clumped across the expanse of marble slab, and soon disappeared through the archway that led to Raene’s chambers. He wasn’t usually as clumsy when smaller but tonight he still tripped over his two back feet. Vidar had long suspected that Aern would be downright graceful if he mastered the art of maintaining a smaller shape. Obviously not.

  At least Aern didn’t appear as menacing at the smaller size.

  A dragon who ran the risk of tripping and falling on a person had instilled terror in the hearts of more than one would-be hero.

  The silence stretched after Aern left. Vidar wondered if he had reached Raene’s chambers yet, and what they spoke about if he had. Then he tapped the wall surrounding the crystal until he caught himself and ceased. Next, he stalked from one end of the chamber to the other, about faced, and repeated the process. By the fourth turn, noise from the direction in which Aern had left alerted him he was about to have company.

  He stopped pacing and the fidgets melted away as he rose to his full height, sword hand at the ready. Facing the archway, he opened his senses. And detected a wisp of the fresh scent he associated with Raene. She appeared in the archway with the smaller Aern and Vidar’s breath caught.

  Her auburn hair was pinned in curls on her head while the light green gown she wore fit her to perfection. It showcased her curves with elegance and refined tastes.

  “Raene, so kind of you to join us.”

  “Aern mentioned you were both wondering how the evening went.” Her nose wrinkled.

  “That bad?”

  “It could have been worse.”

  “Did the men bother you?”

  Her eyebrows rose. “How did you know?”

  “So they did.” He shared a glance with Aern, whose mouth tightened. The scales lining his lips flashed charcoal gray.

  “Only three. One of them I have no interest in whatsoever.” Raene’s bottom lip quivered. “My mother hasn’t even . . .”

  Not able to bear her heartache, Vidar strode to her side. “Yes, that is exactly what you should be concentrating on. Your mother. Spending the time you have left with her.”

  Tears leaked down her cheeks. She didn’t speak.

  “Is she still unconscious?”

  He received a jerky nod.

  “The healers believe she’ll never wake again.”

  “A blessing for her, Raene.”

  “Yes.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and her answer was so faint as to be nonexistent.

  Yet he understood.

 
“What happens after she dies?” Aern’s tone echoed with respect. He stood close to Raene, as though seeking to reassure her.

  “I don’t know. This is all new.” Raene hastily rubbed the tears. She sniffed and Vidar handed her several tissues. She accepted them with watery thanks.

  His heart swelled at the sight of that slight smile.

  “There will be a time of the changing of the crowns.” This memory emerged from when Margina became queen.

  Raene started and then her focus landed on him. “Changing of the crowns? What is that?”

  “Your mother selected her crown, on the day she became queen.” He skimmed over the death of Raene’s grandmother. “Your grandmother’s crown was returned to the vault, and your mother was then invited to peruse the various crowns. She selected the one she wished to wear during her reign.”

  “So I must do the same?” Raene’s forehead furrowed.

  “If your coronation occurs as your mother’s did, yes.”

  “You were here?”

  “Aern and I had just arrived. We were informally guarding the royal treasury then. Your grandmother died soon after.”

  “She died young as well?”

  “No. She was not young. Your mother didn’t come about until after your grandmother had given up on having children. The queen was thrilled to be with child, especially in light of her more advanced age.”

  “I wish I had known her. My grandfather used to entertain me with stories of her until his death. I was eight and missed him greatly when he died.”

  “She was a great lady,” Aern said. He had reverted to his normal size. “Your grandfather was a good man too.”

  Vidar agreed on both counts.

  Another flash of sorrow crossed Raene’s face. “So my mother became the queen directly after her mother died?”

  “Yes. Everyone crowded into this chamber, and then the vault was opened for Margina to enter. It’s generally only the incumbent queen who enters. Aern gave her a tour of the vault.”

  “Did everyone see him?”

  They turned to the black dragon. “I usually keep myself scarce, unless I need to teach someone a few manners. It all depends on the crowd.” He used his scaly chin to indicate Vidar. “Typically he’s enough of a deterrent.”