by Rene Folsom
“Yes, but only under one condition.” I eye him skeptically. I knew his promise was too good to be true. Nothing comes free. “Promise you will come and talk to me tomorrow?”
Huh. Well, that sounds pretty simple… as long as I don’t get caught.
“How do I find you?” I ask, even though I’m still unsure I want to make a deal with a monster.
The dragon takes a step back, letting out a breath. The heat washes over me, but this time it feels like a caress. I no longer feel threatened by the beast, regardless of his size. It’s like I’ve known him for a lifetime.
“Once you step foot in these gardens, I will feel you, little petal. Don’t you worry.”
This has bad idea written all over it. I have to check my feelings at the door—keep my head on straight so as not to get distracted by a huge, beautiful beast.
“I don’t know if I can,” I respond with honesty.
The dragon opens his wings, his span overwhelmingly large. As he stands on his hind legs and stretches his leathery skin, a blast of warm air engulfs me.
“You can. I’ll make sure of it. Now go and eat your dinner.” His words are a gentle demand, yet I’m still at a loss for how to respond.
Before I can question him, he takes off in flight. I didn’t even get to ask for his name. All it takes is a graceful lift of his feet, a single beat of his veined wings, and he’s airborne. Two more flaps takes him up into the clouds.
Oh, I can only wish to join him. It’s mesmerizing to watch a creature of his size, weighed down by so much, fly free.
It isn’t until I turn toward the garden’s gate to walk back to the main house that I realize I’m no longer in pain.
Regardless of the hunger that envelops my stomach, I head straight for my room—pain free. I can’t seem to get into privacy fast enough before I pull off my shoes and socks, nearly ripping them to shreds to reveal my bare feet.
“Amazing,” I whisper. I almost wish I could shout it from the rooftops, though that would be stupid of me.
The bruises and welts are still there, still visible to the naked eye. Even the open wounds remain for me to see.
But there is no pain. None. Zero.
I’m pain free.
The fact the mystery dragon did that for me is overwhelming.
The only payment he requested was for me to meet him in the gardens again tomorrow.
“I guess I have a date with a dragon tomorrow.”
The next morning, I’m awoken by the noise of activity happening in the hallways of House Kincaid. After I quickly dress, I hurry and step out into the hall. I yelp with surprise as I almost run straight into Admiral Willis.
“Watch yourself,” he barks before turning away from me and marching his way down the hall.
I don’t say anything. My fingers touch the edges of my cap, making sure it’s in place, as I keep my head down and make my way into the kitchen where most of the action is coming from. I see Talia and a few others standing around, their lips moving, talking. I can tell they are trying to be quiet, though they’re anything but.
“Did you hear?” a house worker asks, her head bowed as she speaks.
“Hear what?” Talia asks in return.
“Lady Greann is with child,” the woman states. “She’s taking breakfast in bed this morning. Madame Kincaid’s orders.”
My breath stalls. Greann is pregnant? As far as I know, the only person she’d been with is Vulcan. I saw him leaving her room on the first day I’d walked through the house. Then again, I hadn’t been Greann’s second hand for just under a week. A week? Would she really know by now or has my timelines been skewed? She’s probably lying just to keep the brothers’ interest, and a lot of good that is doing her considering Vulcan kissed me.
He kissed me on the lips.
He kissed me on the lips while he was in the process of making a baby with that spoiled ass brat.
There are parts of me, parts I try to keep buried, that are pissed and beyond hurt with their actions. The only thing I can do to move on is shake my head to clear my mind of those thoughts. I have no right to feel hurt or jealous. There will never be anything between Vulcan and me, so there is no reason for me to linger on things that don’t concern me.
Yet I can tell this is what the brothers do—they play mind games.
“This is great news! Now that there will be an heir to the Kincaid clan, maybe Madame Kincaid won’t be such a bitch.”
“Bite your tongue, Talia,” the other girl gasps. “Never speak such words out loud. You never know who’s listening.”
Of course, they both look my way. I can’t blame them because I would be suspicious of anyone lurking in the shadows, too.
To avoid their gazes, I bow my head and turn, making my way over to the table for breakfast.
Talia raises her voice, her tone demanding and harsh. “Hold it right there, Zhavia.”
Stopping, I swivel around to look her in the eye. With my mood right now, I might decide to beat the tyrant little bitch down if she starts flipping off at the fucking mouth.
“What is it, Talia?” My fingers ball into fists at my sides in every attempt to hide my rage.
“Your feet don’t hurt?” she asks, catching me off guard.
I blink, trying to grasp her words. “What?”
“You’re feet. They don’t hurt?” she asks again. “I was expecting you to be nearly lame for at least a week.”
Shit. My feet. I can’t believe I forgot. I don’t know what to say, so I go with the first thing that pops in my mind.
“Stable,” I blurt out.
“Stable? What?”
I stumble over my words. “I didn’t have to work with the horses yesterday. It gave me a chance to rest in the stables and heal. It was cleared with the house,” I explain, lying through my teeth.
Talia and the other woman glance at each other before looking back at me. I don’t wait for their venom before I turn and continue to make my way over to the table, this time putting a little hobble in each step. My stomach rumbles and my eyes are bleary. I don’t understand what the hell is wrong with me, and I don’t stick around long enough to figure it out.
Quickly, I grab my breakfast and take it back to my room so that I can eat in peace. It isn’t until after I sit that I realize I’m crying. My chest caves in with sobs, and I allow myself to feel emotion yet again since I arrived at this house. It’s the one and only thing I respond to.
Pain. But not physical this time.
I’m appalled with myself. Absolutely stunned. I can’t believe I entertained the smallest hope that anyone under this roof would be sincere in their attempts to care about my wellbeing. I know what it means to live under House Kincaid rules. I haven’t been afforded any luxuries here, just like I’ve never known any my entire life back at camp.
To Lady Greann, Madame Kincaid, and all the others who run this house, I should be thankful for the station I’ve been given. I should be happy and respectful because, according to them, my life is all due to their mercy.
As I nibble on my breakfast, I examine my room and rage fills my insides. I went from one cage to another, never moving forward in my attempts for a better life.
All I want is to be my own person, not to be ruled by what society deems the better class. Yet, here I am, cowering in my room. I’ve grown soft. I’ve folded to their games when I knew all along what the end result would be. I’m a joke to the house. I’m just a toy they can play with.
This has gone on long enough.
I jump as a rather loud knock sounds against my door. No good can come from someone seeking me out.
When I finally muster the guts to open it, Drake is standing there. He’s wearing a long cloak over his body with the hood masking his face, but there’s no doubt its him. It’s his piercing emerald eyes that give him away.
“What do you want?” I hiss. “You need to leave. You shouldn’t be here.”
I go to slam the door shut, but I’m blocked by his much larger hand, his fin
gers grasping the thick wood that separates my room from the hallway.
“Don’t do that.” He pokes his head beyond the gap in the door and smiles. “I like my fingers.”
“You need to leave. You can’t be here,” I repeat, just in case his dense skull didn’t hear me the first time. I thought he and Seneca were due to be gone for a few days. He’d even said it himself. Yet, here he stands.
Drake wedges himself farther into my room and towers in front of me, scanning me from head to toe.
“You have to be the one,” he mutters. “It can’t be Greann.”
“You chose her, Drake. You and your brothers chose Greann,” I say back. My skin heats with his close proximity, and I can feel myself wanting to fight back out of sheer need to survive. Somehow, though, I manage to keep my cool.
“I did not choose shit,” Drake spits back. “I did not ask for this. Mother did. She brought you and Greann here to this house. To us.”
“I am not yours. I don’t belong to anyone.” I shuffle from foot to foot, uncomfortable under his stare. Finally, I raise my chin defiantly. “I am nothing but a slave who belongs to House Kincaid.”
Grinning, Drake takes a step forward. I can’t help but step back in reaction to his advance.
“Sweetheart,” he says with a toothy grin, his broad hand pushing the door the rest of the way shut.” I am House Kincaid. And therefore, you are mine.”
Fuck.
I feel trapped, stuck in my own room by a monster of a man. His presence takes up the small space. There’s no way I could make it around him, nor do I want to if I’m being honest. It’s so very wrong for us to be sequestered into a room alone, but I still can’t help the feeling of warmth that overtakes my insides with the way he looks at me.
“I don’t want any trouble with Lady Greann,” I whisper. “Please, I need you to leave.”
Drake doesn’t listen to me. Instead, he walks the length of my room with his hands behind his back. It’s clear he’s trying to figure out what to say next, and it makes me wonder if he has bothered to think any of this through. The sound of his footsteps is near deafening, the silence overtaking the space we are in, but instead of saying anything, I allow him to pace.
“The universe is trying to fuck with us,” he finally says before stopping in front of me. “I was so sure you were the one. You even had Vulcan convinced after he kissed you.”
“I have not tried to convince any of you of anything. I promise. I simply want to be left alone,” I say earnestly.
Drake pins me with a glare before grunting. “That’s not possible.”
How is it not possible for them to just leave me be? I blurt out the first thing that bubbles up in my mind. “Make it possible. You said it yourself: you’re House Kincaid. What you say matters. No one is going to believe someone in my station.”
“Still, rules are rules,” he mumbles back.
What does that even mean?
“Do you all take such great pleasure in fooling around with your servants?” I need to mind my manners, especially around a brother. I’m talking to Drake Kincaid, for God’s sake. But I can’t hold my tongue anymore. Too much has happened to me because of them, and I can’t take any more torture.
Instead of responding to my question, he stops pacing and stands before me. “Take off your cap,” he demands.
I don’t argue. There’s no point. Instead, I yank it off.
Drake takes a few more steps toward me and reaches down, sifting his fingers through my hair. I think of pulling back, but it won’t matter. We’re in my room—alone—and I’m not due out to the stables for at least thirty minutes.
“What is this obsession with my hair?” I ask, the bitterness in my voice long gone.
“It’s remarkable,” he whispers. “Especially as the color keeps changing. You came into contact with Vulcan first, right?”
He’s right, Vulcan was the first brother I saw. “Yes, but what does that have to do with my hair?”
“Everything,” Drake murmurs. “Zhavia, you have to understand, my brothers and I have waited a long time for this, but if Greann is pregnant, this thing between you and my brothers can mean nothing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t. Trust me, even I don’t understand it myself. But something is happening. Something bigger than all of us. I don’t know if both you and Greann are a part of it, or if it’s just one. But I plan on finding out.”
A Kincaid making plans? Nothing good will come of it.
“I have to be at the stables,” I mumble. In reality, I just need to be away from his power.
“Yes, of course. Tell no one you saw me.”
I don’t question his motives or his reasons for wanting to stay secretive. It’s not my concern, and I feel like the less I know, the better chance I have of surviving this.
I’m going to the stables. The last thing I want to do is be caught with another member of House Kincaid.
If we’re caught here alone, Greann will surely have my head.
16
Langston is already at work in the stables when I arrive. He’s brushing William’s horse TT while Trance, Tempie, Ty, and Toke eat from their bins.
“Good morning, Langston.”
“There’s is nothing good about today,” he sputters, still running a brush over TT’s coat.
“Can we talk about yesterday?” I ask. He left so abruptly, I was a bit concerned. I don’t think he’ll tell anyone about what I said, but it did feel as if the dynamics of our newly spun friendship changed.
“No. No, we can’t talk about anything.” He still doesn’t look me in the eye, and it makes my heart break a little with how cold he’s being.
As I start toward Langston, I remember I’m not limping and I should be. I try to adjust my steps to someone who should be in pain, but it’s too late. He’s caught on, and his intelligent eyes scowl down at my booted feet.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” I ask, trying to feign innocence.
“Because, girl, you didn’t heed any of my warnings. You’re making a mess of things, and I’m left to stand here and watch you.” His words are more like a reprimand, a tongue lashing I’m sure I deserve, regardless of how much hurt it brings me.
“Me? How?” I ask. My voice is pitched an octave higher because I don’t want to admit just how right he is.
“I told you to stay away from those gardens, and to steer clear of the brothers. Yet you chose to completely ignore the old man.”
I take the brush from his hands and resume the task of brushing TT. My voice drops in volume, worry nagging that someone will overhear. “I have not been back to the gardens, and I didn’t go seeking the brothers. It’s as if they are always seeking me.”
“Girl, you listen closely.” He dips his head so we’re eye to eye beside the horse. “I like you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Lady Greann is with child. That means everything you thought about those boys is a moot point.”
“I haven’t thought anything about them.” Well, that isn’t true. I do think about them, but mostly as a way to gain the upper hand and to use them to get out of this place. After today, though, I am even more confident Langston is right.
“Their kind and our kind don’t mix. They’re Primes—elites. Fire and water don’t mix. Whatever they thought you were no longer matters.”
I want to tell him that Drake thinks otherwise, but I don’t understand what it is they think I am to them. This thing with being a sacred six… me being someone special… it all means nothing to me.
“I don’t want to mix with them,” I say fiercely. “Honest.” Especially not now. Not after finding out Greann is pregnant. I should mean nothing to them. The whole point of the selection is to breed with the Prime families—to carry on the bloodline.
“Well, your foot’s healed. So that means you were either in the gardens, or one of the brother’s helped you.”
I can’t tell him the blue dragon took my pain away. Th
e mere idea of getting help from a dragon would very likely freak him out. It would me if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
“I helped myself to some salve in the kitchen.” My eyes drop to the ground. “No one knows.”
“Girl, we ain’t got no salve in the kitchen. What we got is a damn problem. If Greann finds out you’re healed, you may very well end up dead.” He hooks a finger under my chin and forces my eyes up. “You need to bump up your acting and pretend you’re still in pain, because if she finds out, you’re as good as dead.”
One of the horses stirs, a clear indication there’s someone near. We turn to see who it is when I catch a glimpse of a servant’s skirt turning the corner.
Shit.
“You better hope that was someone passing by,” Langston whispers before walking back toward TT. “Go get his bridle and lead rope. I’ll finish up with brushing and begin his exercise in the arena.”
Nodding, I go about doing my chores. I try to remember to at least limp and think I do a pretty convincing job of it.
Still, as the day goes on, I start to get more nervous about the servant who may have overheard. Nothing bad has happened yet, but I can’t help the feeling that today is going to go sour at any time.
I’m halfway through my day when Langston calls for me to meet him at the back of the stables.
“Come to the garden entrance tonight after dinner is over, and before the house shuts down,” he instructs, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth. He seems nervous, worried someone will hear. But if the old man wants to talk, I’ll meet him.
Just a few hours ago, he wanted me to stay away from the gardens, and now he wants me to meet him there. So what changed? “Is there something wrong?”
“No, and I hope it stays that way. Go take your lunch, and at least pretend you’re in pain, girl.”
Langston and I go our separate ways. I don’t feel like eating. My stomach has been twisted in knots since this morning. My mind strays back to the garden—the one place I shouldn’t go right now. But I still head in that direction anyway. Multiple thoughts stream through my mind. The brothers and their conversation about me being the one, whatever that means. They spoke of curses and time spent in the dawn. They spoke of my red hair and Greann’s strawberry locks meaning something. William was the one to admit there were dragons in the garden, yet I’ve only ever seen the blue one.