by Tessa Dawn
She wrung her hands in her lap and cleared her throat, setting aside her uneasiness.
This was Matthias, after all, and it wouldn’t do either of them any good for Mina to openly display her grief and regret, to visibly demonstrate her nostalgia for the carefree, blond-haired, blue-eyed boy she had grown up with.
That man—that body—was gone.
That physical presence had died, and it was enough that Matthias had to come to grips with the change.
The least Mina could do was support him.
“So how are you feeling today?” she asked, searching for an innocuous question, one that wouldn’t provoke a deep discussion.
“My prince,” Matthias said.
“Pardon me?”
Matthias sighed. “How are you feeling today, my prince.” Mina grimaced, and Matthias intensified his reprimand. “You are still thinking of me as someone who is casually familiar, someone from your past, even if you aren’t speaking that name. You have to stop.”
Mina gulped.
Was he reading her mind?
That effortlessly?
“I am,” he answered bluntly. “Damian was…Damian is…a master at such things.”
“You are,” Mina corrected.
Matthias nodded. “Touché.” And then they shared a moment of companionable silence as Mina thought about the gravity of the prince’s instructive words.
Ever since that fateful day when Prince Dante had butchered his brother within the royal tent of Umbras, on the shores of Dracos Cove, he had made it abundantly clear that everything had changed. Everything. “From this day forward, you are not to speak the name Matthias, ever again. You are not to think the name Matthias, if you can help it. You all need to train your minds—as well as your mouths—to think only of Damian, to speak only of your prince. Should one of you ever slip up and make a mistake in the presence of the king, the consequences could be lethal. While my father is not as adept at mind-reading as some, he is not to be trifled with. It is a matter of habit, a matter of inner discipline, and a matter of practice through repetition. I will try to buy you as much time away from Castle Dragon as I can, but you must do the work. And you must be diligent. No exceptions. No excuses.”
Mina finally broke the silence. “Apologies, my prince. I am not very good at this…yet.”
Damian sighed. “Believe me, I understand. The one who is no more has only had seven days to come to terms with the fact that his identity is gone. He has had seven days to grieve for the loss of his family, his fiancée, and his father, knowing they will be notified of his death. He has had one week to accept the fact that he will not marry Melissa Walcott or follow in his father’s footsteps as a blacksmith’s apprentice…that he will live a very, very long time, ruling a province of shadows…ruling with an iron fist.” His dark brown eyes met hers, and he softened his gaze on purpose. “That as far as the outside world is concerned, you are his mate—his Sklavos Ahavi—and the child that grows inside you is his offspring.” He paused. “My offspring. At least for now. At least until my eldest brother comes of age, which is still thirty-one years away. So, yes, Mistress Mina, I understand this is a difficult transition.”
She offered him a sheepish grin. “At least the vertigo and the fatigue have stopped. Yours, I mean.”
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders in an awkward gesture, making his own stab at levity. “And at least my hair is still blond—sort of—and I can still wear it tied back in a thong. Strange, right?”
Mina tried to laugh, but it was a weak attempt at best. She was still reeling at the thought of remaining mated to Prince Damian—of pretending that Dante’s child was Damian’s—of remaining at the dragon’s side, accompanying and serving him from Castle Umbras, until such day as Dante came of age and could shift into a full-blown dragon. Even then, the future was uncertain at best: Prince Dante believed that revealing his potential alliance with the Lycanians at just the right time, as well as outlining his authority throughout the Realm, supported by both his brothers and all their sons, would be influential enough to force the hand of the king when the day finally came, to make him step aside once and for all. And if not, then he trusted some mysterious omen—implicitly—although he hadn’t told her what it was.
Dante believed that, in fifty-four more years, when both Damian and Drake came of age as well, the shift of power would be inevitable.
King Demitri could not oppose them all.
He could not take on three fully mature dragons.
Still, he was hesitant to overthrow his father, to usurp the traditional king by force. He was hoping that the monarch would come to see reason and bend, that the potential prosperity of the Realm, and the power of his obvious successors—his sons—would ultimately sway King Demitri’s opinion and convince him to relinquish his reign. Mina had no doubt that Dante would use lethal force if he had to—traditions, lineage, and loyalty be damned—he would challenge his father, dragon to dragon, if King Demitri forced his hand. He had demonstrated his resolve as well as his capacity to be ruthless with Prince Damian.
She swallowed her trepidation.
And meanwhile, Prince Dante would live at Castle Warlochia—he would rule the warlocks and his royal province—with Cassidy at his side.
The knowledge made her sick.
Damian’s harsh, unforgiving mouth quirked up in another faintly familiar smile. “I’m sorry; I don’t yet know how to turn it off, the mind reading.” He brandished an apologetic hand. “But I don’t think you need to worry about that, not so much.”
From what Matt—what Damian—had told her earlier, the telepathy was really a problem: While all dragons possessed the ability to read minds, it wasn’t an automatic or natural occurrence. It took a lot of deliberation and mental clarity. In other words, it didn’t just happen. However, something symbiotic had taken place when the two personalities had merged. Somehow, the combination of Damian’s highly developed ability and the other one’s deep intuitive nature had led to an open telepathic channel that the new prince could not shut down.
Mina crooked her eyebrows in curiosity. “Well…are you going to tell me why I needn’t worry?” There was no point in pretending she hadn’t been thinking what she had.
The prince nodded sympathetically and chuckled.
“In the short time we spent traveling to the inn, I was able to garner a few impressions.” He rotated his hand, palm facing forward, before she could jump to the wrong conclusions. “No, I was not able to read Prince Dante’s mind. His barriers are far too strong for that—as, I assume, are my own—but there were several subtle impressions that lingered.” He winked. “Dante is fiercely protective of that child—and of you—and he didn’t give Cassidy a second thought on the day they were mated. He didn’t care about the fertility elixir—at all. He was too keenly focused on the war.” He leaned forward, glanced upward, and then cast his eyes to the side, as if probing for a deeper explanation. “His wheels are always turning, and he views you and that child, not Cassidy, as his own. She is more like a piece of furniture.” He paused to take a slow, deep breath, and then he met her gaze directly. “I don’t think he will follow his father’s plan—our father’s plan—going forward. I believe he will forge his own. Just as Prince Dam—just as I—can read minds without even trying, Prince Dante has an extremely natural command of magic. I wouldn’t be surprised if he plays with Cassidy’s mind or manipulates her memories. He could make her believe anything…or nothing…at will.” He shrugged and inclined his head in a flippant—almost arrogant?—nod. “I’m just saying I wouldn’t worry about it, not too much. Don’t forget: I’ve known him for one hundred forty-nine years, and I’ve had…intimate dealings…with Cassidy already. A woman like that will be about as significant as a flea on a donkey’s ass to Prince Dante. She isn’t worth your thoughts because she won’t command his.”
Mina’s mouth dropped open in surprise.
Trying to discern who was who when Prince Damian was speaking was lik
e listening to twin robins sing. The notes were utterly interchangeable, yet they were distinctly different at the same time. It was truly amazing how Damian’s many years of dominance and privilege, as well his formal education and training, flowed out in his cocky self-assurance, in his novel choice of words—a flea on a donkey’s ass?—while the other one’s careful insights and honed intuition dovetailed seamlessly throughout the examination in his cadence and his thoughts. It was mind-numbing to witness the integration, and Mina realized, perhaps for the first time, that she was truly meeting a unique and brand-new person.
Yet, when she concentrated on the meaning behind the words, she was still twisted up in knots. She didn’t know how she felt about any of it. The thought of Prince Dante with Cassidy still turned her stomach, yet the thought of carrying on some secret affair with the prince of Warlochia—if, in fact, Dante was even considering the latter—made her weak at the knees with terror. The thought of living at Castle Umbras with…Damian…in light of how well she knew his predominant soul gave her a sense of peace and belonging, yet the thought of interacting with this new personality, obeying this prince and even feeding his dragon, made her want to disappear. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, keeping up the ruse, but she could not have orchestrated a better twist of fate if she had tried: Compared to the future she had been facing just over one week ago, this was a thousand times more amenable.
At least this prince of Umbras would never beat her or rape her.
And she could definitely love “their” child.
She would love their child.
Her head began to hurt as she wondered how it would all play out. Would Prince Dante expect her to give him more sons? Surely he did not expect her to couple with Prince Damian! Her head hurt even worse, and she quickly dismissed the thoughts.
Just then, the large multi-paneled doors of the rustic castle foyer swung open, and Prince Dante strolled confidently into the room, his gorgeous onyx hair flowing like a warlock’s cloak to his shoulders; his regal sapphire eyes flashing with authority and animal magnetism; his lethal, otherworldly presence permeating the entire room. She stood, out of habit, ready to bow her head and curtsey—perhaps he would even need to feed his dragon—and then her heart skipped several beats, her palms began to sweat, and she staggered where she stood.
Oh, dearest goddess of mercy!
She ran toward the doors.
“Raylea!”
She was utterly frantic to get to the young bright-eyed child who had just entered the foyer behind him, and when the two sisters met in the center of the hall, they embraced like the gods had commanded their union.
“Sister.” Raylea wept.
“Raylea!” Mina replied, and then she started to blubber, spewing what felt like a dozen nonsensical words per second. “I got your doll! The one you made for me with the pretty button eyes and the patchwork dress. The prince told me how brave and courageous you were, going to Warlochia—Oh my gods, I can’t believe you did that!—but I wasn’t surprised at all, that you found a way to get the doll to me. Oh, and you have to know: I’ve kept her close to me, right next to my heart, every day since I got her. And I’ve kept you there, too! I love you both so much; I’ve missed you so dearly!” She swiped at her eyes. “But I have her—and she’s so lovely!” Mina laughed at her silly, illogical speech, even as she ran her hands through Raylea’s hair, cupped her cheeks in her palms, and kissed her little forehead…at least ten times.
The girl laughed amidst her tears. “I made her for you. All by myself.”
Mina pulled her into another fierce hug. “I know you did. And thank you so much! I absolutely love it.” She ran her hands up and down Raylea’s arms and stared at her with concern. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need a physician?” She eyed her from head to toe before turning her around in order to check her back, her neck, and her shoulders. She was just about to start discreetly undressing her when Raylea slapped at her hands and smiled.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, linking Mina’s fingers in hers. “Well, I mean, it was awful. It was scary. The shadow who bought me was horrible, but I don’t really remember. Prince Dante said I can spend the rest of the week with you, and then he’s going to have his own castle guards escort me home, back to Arns, to see Mama and Papa. But I can visit whenever I want.” She giggled with joy, and her dark brown eyes lit up like twin russet flames. “He saved me from the monster.”
Mina’s bottom lip began to tremble, and she felt like a child herself, wholly overwhelmed by her emotions and completely unable to speak. As Prince Dante stepped forward, ostensibly to explain what had happened—or to tell her what he expected her to do—she collapsed from the intensity of her grief, her relief, and her gratitude, and she shrouded his boots with her hair.
He bent down to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I told you I would bring her home,” he murmured in a deep, sonorous tone.
Mina raised her head to regard him squarely beneath tearstained lashes, and he offered his hand to help her up. She took it between both of her palms and pressed it to her cheek, angling her head with affection. “My prince,” she whispered softly, wetting his skin with her tears. “Thank you.” Her entire body began to shake. “I have no words.”
She bowed her head in the purest gesture of reverence she had ever shown, wanting to demonstrate her appreciation, and then she brought her forehead down to his feet—slowly, and with great veneration—and kissed the tips of his boots, each one in turn.
Oddly enough, she had never felt more like his equal.
“Thank you,” she whispered again.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Castle Dragon ~ one month later
“Come with me,” Dante had said, offering no explanation, making no justification, and just like her first day at Castle Dragon, Mina had followed him into the courtyard, mounted the same white gelding, and cantered quietly beside him along the same familiar path.
In the weeks that had followed Raylea’s rescue, life in the Realm had moved forward very quickly: All three dragon princes had been summoned to meet with King Demetri; they had conferred about the battle, discussed their roles going forward, and briefed him on the state of their districts.
And each one of them had managed to pull it off.
As of yet, Prince Drake did not know about the great deception, and Dante was waiting for the right moment to tell him, for necessity to warrant the admission. He wanted to bring his youngest brother into the fold, and he believed it was necessary, that he could definitely trust him; however, he was hesitant to place another innocent soul in danger, especially when they still had time.
Meanwhile, Raylea had returned to the commonlands, and Mina’s parents had been positively elated to discover that both of their daughters were still safe and alive, that they had actually spent a week together at Castle Umbras, and that Mina would invite them all to visit soon, within the next couple of months.
They were, however, grieving deeply, along with Callum Gentry, over the news of Matthias’s death, the fact that he had been captured at Castle Dragon and executed by the king.
Damian and Dante had given the matter a great deal of consideration—whether or not to inform the blacksmith that his son was still alive, at least his soul was—but in the end, Prince Damian had made the call. The danger was just too great. The secret was far too volatile. And there was always time to retract the decision later, once things had settled down.
Mina’s heart ached at the thought of Mr. Gentry’s suffering, but she understood the princes’ reasoning: The fewer people who knew, the less chance there was of a leak. As it stood, Prince Dante was practically beside himself with concern over Wavani the witch. On one hand, he absolutely could not execute the king’s closest advisor and hope to get away with it—King Demitri would leave no stone unturned in the search for her killer—but on the other hand, all it would take was an uneasy feeling, a haphazard toss of her runes, or a reason to consult her looking-glass, based on a pa
ssing suspicion, and the king would slay them all for their treason.
Wavani the witch and her lover were two perilous loose ends that needed to be closed.
Mina shivered, not wanting to imagine the worst…
Rather, she turned her attention to better news: They had recently learned that Tatiana was also expecting a child. She had become pregnant the first night of the war, and Prince Drake could only be described as smitten at best. For all intents and purposes, the Ahavi seemed to be happy, whereas Damian and Mina had fallen into an awkward yet familiar routine at Castle Umbras, lending each other support, learning as they went along, and making it up when they were clueless.
Mina’s pregnancy had begun to show. She was nauseated in the mornings; the smell of food made her queasy, and she required more sleep than ever before—yet she really couldn’t complain. The king was satisfied with his sons and their Ahavi, he had no reason to question his choices or appointments, and the Realm was moving forward, day by day.
Life was resuming as it should.
Now, as Prince Dante reined his stallion to a halt beneath the branches of an aged sycamore tree, Mina followed his lead and dismounted. The afternoon was positively stunning: The sun was shining in a clear blue sky; the birds were singing happily in the trees; and there was a gentle summer’s breeze rustling the leaves and lightly licking their skin. It was truly a beautiful afternoon.
Prince Dante tethered his horse to a fallen log, waited for Mina to do the same, and then extended his hand in her direction. “Come to me, Mina.”