Dragon's Heart (3 page)

In a foul mood, Killian Rhys strode through the halls of the castle, taking little notice of the men and women from well-dressed courtiers to servants in royal livery who bowed and moved out of his path. He offered polite acknowledgment of their presence and greetings when required, but stopped for nothing. His thigh still smarted from where Serena had landed a good hit during their bout. A shudder ran through him as Killian’s mind turned dark.
Had Serena and I had been using edged weapons today, I wouldn’t be walking to see the queen. Serena would be heading to the gallows. What remained of me would be laid out on a slab waiting for the death’s handmaidens to do their work.

The sun was high in the sky as he passed Lord Jeffery Dennsmore in the antechamber off the entrance to the queen’s personal study. Killian frowned.
There is only one reason he would be petitioning my grandmother in private. The lord is pressing the queen to accept Katia as my betrothed. The last offer was so extravagant I wonder what he has done to make it more agreeable to my grandmother.

At seventeen years of age, Killian had not yet reached the age of majority, but the offers from the nobles, both in and out of Illedria, began a short time after his fifteenth birthday. These brief conversations with his grandmother started more than a year and a half ago, when he’d let it slip that he was falling for Serena.

Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he stepped into the study through the already open door and bowed to his grandmother. Anastasia Rhys had an air of quiet dignity about her, and the delicate silver and gold crown she wore added to the feeling of understated power. She glanced up from her reading and motioned for him to sit across from her before turning her attention back to the papers. Killian took a seat in one of the high-backed chairs and tried not to get too comfortable on the soft cushions, knowing one of her tactics was to lull her opponent into a false sense of security. He took quick stock of the area around the study, the bookcases lining the walls, and the small sculptures and keepsakes placed on their shelves.

After a short silence, the High Queen of Illedria met the young prince’s gaze and frowned before removing her delicate silver crown. “Why that girl?” The queen’s question was straightforward, blunt, much like the woman was known to be at times.

“Because, in spite of everything she knows about me, including my station, and she doesn’t mind. All those years ago, she was the only one who didn’t care that I was the prince. Serena was the only trainee willing to spar with me for years. The rest were all too frightened of the consequences if I were to get injured.” He paused and waited for the queen to say something. When she remained silent, he continued, “When we spar, she doesn’t take it easy on me because of my title. She’s knocked me to the ground more than once.” He smiled, remembering the shocked expression on her face and those of the gathered crowd the first time it had happened. The smile widened, as he thought about the bruises she’d given him in subsequent bouts. His upward-turned lips retreated when he remembered bruises he’d given her. “We have known each other for years. I can talk to her about anything.”

“But she is a commoner and,” the queen took a deep breath as if steeling herself before continuing, “if what Arms Master Hayes tells me is true, has aspirations to join the Royal Guard.”

We’ve done this dance more than one time, grandmother, and yet here we are again,
Killian thought before he responded with the expected question. “Why should either of those things matter?”

“You will be the king.”

Ahh and there’s the expected answer,
he thought.

“You will follow your father on my throne and will need a strong queen at your side.” Anastasia sought to make her grandson see reason. Of course, other issues were at work, factions in play, but attacking the girl’s low birth station was the simple answer.

“Who do you believe will be a stronger queen?” he asked, a change in tactic. “A woman who, while a commoner, is a weapons master and doesn’t back down, who challenges me, who helps me consider all options before making a decision and does not have her own agenda beyond committing herself to king and country?” He leaned back and made a gesture to indicate openness. “Or would you prefer the woman who is from a noble family, with their own agenda, who won’t challenge her king’s decisions and could put loyalty to her family and province over what is best for Illedria?”

“Killian, you will have nobles to contend with and will need their support in order to be a strong monarch. They will not think kindly about their king being married to a woman with no land, no title, and worse, is a soldier.”

“But she will not be a common soldier,” Killian insisted though he knew better, the nobles would never see Serena as more than a peasant. One who had reached far above her station and captured the heart of a royal, but still beneath them, and him. “She will be a sword master and perhaps one of the Royal Guard, the elite.”

“It is simply not done”—the queen’s tone was firm—”you are second in line to rule. I will not have this insolence, and that is the end of the discussion, young man.”

“As you wish, Majesty,” Killian stood and offered a deep, respectful bow.
I pushed too far. I pray she doesn’t use this talk as an excuse to accept one of the marriage contracts. There must be a way to follow my heart and still serve my people.

“I
wish
my grandson would be more compliant to my wishes and tradition.”

“I am
your
grandson. Would you expect less of me?” The prince turned and walked out of the study with two black-clad guards falling in behind him as he made his way back to his chambers. When he crossed the threshold into the sitting room, Killian sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. It was times like this when he felt the burden of his birth weighing against his heart’s desire and wished the gulf between their stations didn’t exist.

The beautiful noblewoman drew the guard forward, pulling his body against hers and into a shadowed alcove, away from prying eyes. He ran his hands over her soft, alabaster skin. Her fingers tangled in the dark hair that curled over his collar. Pressing his lips to hers, he plundered the riches there.

While grabbing a fist full of his hair, she used it to draw him away from her. “Andreas,” she breathed his name, part plea, part demand.

“What?” he choked out, voice harsh with desire.

“I need her name.” She traced his jawline with the sharp point of her fingernail.

“Whose name?”

Panic flared in his eyes, and she wanted to laugh. Men were so easy to manipulate, and it had almost been a waste of her singular magic. “The child. The one you and the dead princess found so many years ago.”

“Serena,” he answered, a glassy haze settling over his eyes.

“Where is the child?” She knew it was a gamble and quite likely Andreas knew nothing, but all of her plans hinged on finding the girl. The child was the key.

“She was placed with a family in the city, for a time.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know why, but she didn’t stay with them long.”

“Where did she end up?” She was growing impatient; each passing moment was one closer to someone discovering their hiding place.

“In the palace with the royal tutor and his wife.” He reached up to touch her cheek.

“The Dunnhills?” she asked, a frown creasing her smooth features.

“No. The Harlowes. Samuel and Mavis Harlowe took the girl in.”

“Harlowe?” She blinked several times in quick succession while trying to recall where she’d heard the name before.

“Yes. The girl you’re looking for is Serena Harlowe.” His hands roamed over her body, and he tried to slip them underneath her corset.

“Stop,” she ordered. He groaned, frustration flashing in his eyes… though he complied. “You’ve done very well. Now, Andreas, I need you to do something else for me.”

“I will do anything you require, my lady.”

“Perfect.” She smiled and dragged her nail along his chin, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake, but her prey didn’t react. “You will forget me. Forget that we had this conversation and go about the rest of your day. Tomorrow, when you have your daily training bout, you will have an accident and make a fatal error.” She licked the single drop of blood that clung to her nail. “Do you understand, Andreas?”

Yes, my lady,” he said his voice dull, lifeless, emotionless.

“Very well. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, my lady.” He bowed, turned and walked down the hall, leaving her alone. She remained hidden in the alcove for several moments more, her mind turning over the information she had learned.

So, the Dragon Fey whelp has been hiding in plain sight this whole time. She is close to the prince. We will have to tread carefully.

Satisfied with the day’s work, she stepped out of the shadows and drifted back toward the main rooms of the castle.

T
he next morning
, Killian stood at his father’s right hand while the queen had her public audience. In light of her failing health, she believed it was important that the royal family showed a unified front to the people. Scanning the crowd of onlookers, the prince watched the expected faces of courtiers and palace staff. Interspersed among them were ones he didn’t recognize, those of diplomats and citizens who had come to petition the crown. Killian couldn’t help but notice the cluster of young women standing in the center of the room, all watching him as though he were a prize stallion about to be sold to the highest bidder. He fought to keep his emotions from displaying on his face, preferring not to show them how he felt about their attention.
If the daily verbal sparring matches with my grandmother are any indication, I am nothing but a stud to them… someone to marry to improve their family’s position and ensure they are the mother of my successor.
He turned his attention back to the man pleading his case before the queen.

Doors at the far end of the hall opened to admit a member of the Royal Guard. She strode down the center of the room, and it took Killian a moment to recognize Michaels’s blonde hair and the slight hitch in her gait as she walked. The prince watched, with a neutral expression as she made her way up to the dais where Donnavon, captain of the Royal Guard, stood by the queen’s side.

Killian couldn’t hear what was said between the two guards, but after a few exchanges, Michaels nodded, walked over to Ryan and informed the head of Killian’s detail that he was needed out on the training ground. She took over for Ryan as he approached the prince.

“Your Highness,” Ryan whispered, “there has been an incident out in the practice ring. My presence is required. I will speak to you as soon as Her Majesty’s audience is completed.”

“What is it?” Killian asked, fighting to keep a neutral expression on his face while staring out above the crowd.

“I don’t know all the details, but there was an accident.” Ryan shifted position so he could grab the prince’s wrist if needed without anyone in the audience chamber noticing. “From what I have been told, Serena is involved somehow.”

“Serena?” Killian’s blank expression slipped. He felt Ryan’s fingers press into his wrist, a subtle reminder that he couldn’t rush to her side.
You’re the prince. She’s a commoner.
He reminded himself, once again.
I cannot risk putting her in danger because I let my emotions cloud my judgment.

“You need to stay here,” the captain warned, his grip on Killian’s wrist tightening. “Do your duty. I will see to her and report as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.” The prince swallowed hard as words seemed to well up in his throat. He had so much to say, wanting to rush to her side, but duty trapped him. “Please, tell her,” he whispered knowing Ryan would understand.

“I will,” the guardsman said before he turned on his heel and strode out of the chamber, shoulders thrown back and purpose in each step.

The hours stretched on without word. Each petitioner seemed to take more of the queen’s time than was necessary. The prince shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

In his mind, he saw Serena lying on the hard-packed earth of the practice area, a pool of crimson spreading around her. She reached out to him, his name on bloodstained lips. Eyes that shone with emotion, dulled as they stared into a never-ending abyss of darkness. Her hand fell to the ground in a puff of dust.

You don’t know what’s happening. Speculating isn’t going to do you any good. Ryan will look after her. It’s not as bad as you think,
he told himself, trying to keep his anxiety in check.

T
he moment
the queen called an end to the audience, Killian made his way out of the chamber, avoiding the group of young ladies who tried to catch his attention. Most days he did as duty required and spent some time speaking with them, but today, he couldn’t.
Let them think me a boor because I cannot stay here a moment longer than necessary without knowing what happened.
He stalked through the castle, not really aware of the two guards shadowing him as he searched for Ryan. After asking several members of the guard, the prince found his captain on the periphery of the weapons practice arena attacking one of the straw-filled training dummies without mercy or finesse. Killian watched the other man for a long time before he interrupted. “Captain Ryan?”

The captain turned and offered a quick bow. “Your Highness.”

“The incident Ryan.” Killian’s words were short, clipped. “What happened?”

“Andreas is dead.” The other man stabbed the training dummy, center mass. “Serena is being confined to quarters while the Commander and Arms Master Hayes figure out what happened.” He twisted the sword to the right and pulled it out, letting the tip drop to the dirt.

Killian was silent for several seconds, a look of consternation twisting his face. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he asked, “What?”

“Your Highness. I know what you’re thinking. You need to stop. Take a few moments to think clearly.” He leaned in close and whispered, “You can’t be her love right now. You need to be her prince. You need to let this run its course.”

The prince took a deep breath. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could be found at fault for his death and face the executioner,” Ryan answered honestly, not seeing any point in trying to gently break the reality.

Killian’s knees gave way beneath him. He stumbled, catching himself on the training dummy. “I have to do something.”

“You know you can’t.”

“I know.” He pushed away from the dummy and threw a punch. His fist connected with the straw-filled body with an unsatisfying thud. “I know. Gods, I hate it, but I know. Can I at least visit her?”

“I’m sorry, Highness, but she is confined and cannot have any visitors. That’s what I’ve been trying to work around since the incident happened.”

“There’s nothing I can do?” The prince’s voice was soft, pleading.

“No.”

“If you manage to see her, please tell her I love her.”

“I will,” Ryan said. “I am going to try speaking with Commander Donnavon again. Perhaps I can get more answers from him now some time has elapsed.”

“Thank you.” Killian pushed away from the training dummy, “I believe my presence is required at some inane garden party.”

“The parties are not inane, Highness.”

“They are nothing more than old lords and ladies trying to find spouses for their offspring. And I am the most prized catch of all.” The prince dragged a hand through his dark hair, turned and made his way back inside the castle.

Serena walked through a landscape carved of stone and fire, her high leather boots crunching rocks and dirt beneath her feet. The hot sun beat down on her like on a warm spring day. This was home… where she belonged. She flexed her wings, opening and closing them to work out the stiffness. It seemed years since she’d taken to the skies, and Serena enjoyed feeling the currents shift underneath her. Turning her face to the sun, she drew in a deep breath. On bent her knees, she extended her wings and with a powerful stroke, launched herself into the clear sky.

As the air rushed by and the world dropped away with every beat of her wings, it felt right, natural. Lakes, forests, farms, towns and even the odd city became nothing more than a blur as she glided on the currents. Voices whispering in a language she didn’t understand tugged at the back of her memory.

She banked to the left, swooping low, skimming the treetops of a vast forest. Following an air current, the whispers floated along the peaks and valleys of the Nightsong Mountains. She flew until the muscles in her back and wings began to burn with the ache of exhaustion. Instinct drew her to a massive keep, surrounded by acres of green fields standing on the shore of a crystal blue lake. She glided to the ground and landed, taking more than a dozen running steps to halt her progress.

The land bustled with activity. Men, women, and children, all with leathery wings gracing their backs, worked the fields and tended to the roaming animals. Clusters of colorful wagons and tents dotted the landscape. Thin ribbons of smoke swirled up from countless campfires.

Serena strolled along the road, taking in the surrounding scenery until a strange young man skidded to a halt in front of her. He had dark hair with green eyes and stood taller than her, built and dressed like a sword fighter.

“Fireball. What are you doing out here?” His voice tugged at her memory, something familiar and yet forgotten.

“What?” She backed up a couple of steps, her mind and heart at war. It was as though her life was a lie and this moment was meant to be.

“Mother and father have been losing their minds. The whole family and about half the clan are out looking for you.” He shrugged. “Granted, it is your day, but you would do well to stay on their good sides.”

“Who are you?” Serena asked, shaking her head. She sensed something familiar about him but couldn’t place what it was or where she’d met him.

He cocked his head to the left, a questioning expression on his handsome face. “You know who I am.”

“No, I don’t.”

He chuckled, though it was more about releasing tension than genuine mirth. “Come on, Fireball, you do know me.”

“Dalton, are you teasing my betrothed?” Killian asked from a few steps behind the familiar stranger. The sun shone off his blue-black hair and sparkled in his cobalt eyes. He wore black trousers and coat with a white linen shirt, his right hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his hip.

“Killian.” Before sense overrode instinct, Serena rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her lips on his in a passionate kiss. He uttered a surprised gasp before wrapping his arms around her, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head, the other pulling her closer, drawing out the lip lock.

Dalton coughed. “If you’re done ravishing my baby sister in the middle of the road…”

Killian ended the kiss, brushing his lips against hers one last time. A promise. He nodded to Dalton and smirked. “Talk to the fireball. She started it.” He chuckled and shifted his hold on her, so she was at his side as they started walking toward the massive keep.

“What were you thinking? Going on a romp before the ceremony?” Dalton asked.

Serena abruptly planted her feet, causing both men to stop up short and look at her. “What ceremony? What are you talking about? Who are you? How do I know you?”

“Serena, are you feeling well?” Killian stepped forward and cupped her cheek in his hand, searching her eyes.

“I want answers.”

“I’m your eldest brother, Dalton. The ceremony is to formally acknowledge you as our mother’s heir, and confirm your betrothal to Prince Killian.”

She shook her head and pulled away. “I remember none of this.” Her heart twisted, and breathing got more difficult as her memories warred with what her eyes saw. She looked at Dalton. “You.” She gasped. “You’re dead. So are mother and father and the rest of our brothers.” She backed away as Killian reached for her. “You are not mine, not to keep.”

“Serena…” He reached out for her, words dying on his lips as she shook her head and stepped out of his reach.

“No.” Her heart thundered in her chest, and her mind shrieked that nothing about this was right. She wrung her hands together as true panic reached in and hooked its claws into her mind.

“What do you mean I’m not yours?” Confusion and hurt warred in Killian’s words. His hand dropped to his side, and he seemed to close in on himself. “We’ve been promised since we were children. Even if we weren’t, that wouldn’t matter. I love you.” The last words rang true even amidst the madness swirling around them.

Serena’s heart ached, and she let out a wordless cry of anguish. Stumbling away as Dalton reached for her, Serena’s foot caught on something, and she fell backward.

Killian called her name and lunged, reaching out to catch her. Their hands touched, fingers fighting to find purchase. He caught her wrist, but his palm was damp with sweat, and his grip slipped as she stumbled back, falling. “Serena!” His anguished cry filled her ears as darkness swallowed her whole.

Serena screamed, and sat up, gasping. The room was dark, the bed uncomfortable and the blanket thin. She wiped her brow and tried to bring her breathing back under control. Feeling restless, she started pacing the small room, shivering as the sweat on her body cooled. “It was just a dream. A nightmare. A cruel joke your mind is playing,” she whispered to herself. She stopped beside the wash basin and poured water into the earthenware bowl. After splashing her face, she sat on the hard bed. Fearful of what dreams might hunt her down, Serena began reciting sword forms, their uses and defenses against them to keep from drifting back to sleep.