Dragon's Heart (4 page)

K
illian stood
at his grandmother’s left side, waiting for the day’s public audience to begin. He fought to keep his eyes open. It had been almost a week since Serena’s arrest and, in that time, he’d gotten precious little sleep… or information. Five days of feeling scattered, as though part of him had been wrenched away. He’d tried to see her, but on queen’s orders was turned away by the guards at her door. Killian had almost come to blows with Ryan when his captain insisted he stop trying to see her, for Serena’s safety.

At the far end of the hall, the doors opened, and several figures appeared. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the change in light, but he recognized the red-gold hair at the center of the group as the person moved down the center of the room.

Donnavon, the Commander of the Queen’s Guard, stepped into the prince’s peripheral vision and bowed to the queen before he spoke. “Your Majesty, there is a matter that requires the crown’s attention before the public audience.”

“Very well,” the queen said.

The group of guards stopped a few feet from the stairs leading to the dais. Serena was pushed forward, her wrists shackled with heavy iron manacles. Limp strands of hair hung around her face. Two large hands clamped over her shoulders and forced the prisoner to one knee. Killian’s own hands fisted at his side, short nails digging into the flesh of his palms, arm muscles trembling with the effort.

Serena looked up, meeting the queen’s eyes for a moment before she dipped her head in a slight bow. “Your Majesty.” Her voice was quiet but rough.

Killian closed his eyes, breathing in long, controlled breaths as his mind turned over all the reasons why her voice sounded raw, his imagination giving him glimpses into each one.

“Lieutenant Harlowe, the crown wishes to hear your version of the events surrounding Captain Andreas’s death.”

“I have answered every question posed to me by the Royal Guard commanders. What else would the crown like to know?” As she spoke, her voice smoothed out, and though she acted contrite, an edge of steel ran through her words.

“We wish to hear your side of the story, lieutenant,” Anastasia said, her voice all velvet warmth, a practiced court affectation.

“It was an accident during a training bout.” Serena inclined her head and added, “Majesty.”

“How is that possible?” Donnavon asked from his post at Anastasia’s left.

“Accidents happen. It is one of the reasons only advanced students use live steel.”

Killian whispered a silent prayer asking the Gods to grant Serena patience. Though he was certain no one else in court noticed, he saw the flash of defiance in her eyes. Her posture was stiff, and an air of contained violence surrounded her.
That temper of hers is going to cause a world of trouble someday. Please, Serena, don’t… lose… control.

“How is it possible that a student,” the queen said while gesturing toward the young woman kneeling before her, “a trainee, defeated an accomplished swordsman?”

Serena glanced up, fire in her eyes. Killian closed his and waited for the inevitable.

“Majesty, Captain Andreas seemed out of sorts.” Her voice was calm, even. “He was distracted, more aggressive than usual. I was hard-pressed to hold him at bay. I tried to stop the bout more than once, but he would not yield or accept surrender.” Serena paused. “I believe it’s by sheer luck alone I survived the encounter.”

The queen frowned and pinned the young guardswoman with her steely gaze. “You take no responsibility whatsoever for your part in his death?”

“My hand wielded the blade. There is no doubt about that. However, it was not intentional, and I submit to the crown’s judgment in this matter.” She bowed her head, awaiting the queen’s decree.

Silence filled the hall, a crushing weight settling over everyone gathered as it stretched. “There is much to take into consideration. We will inform all interested parties once we have made our decision. You are dismissed.” The queen waved her hand and turned to confer with her son.

A fine tremor ran through Killian’s entire body as he fought to remain in his place while he watched the guards manhandle Serena. They grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet before she had the chance to rise on her own. He glanced at his grandmother, hoping the queen would put a stop to it, but Anastasia was deep in conversation with Donnavon and Killian’s father.
I see how it is. My grandmother is allowing this to happen because I love her. This is the queen’s way of showing me that Serena is beneath me.
He watched Serena fight to keep her feet in place as the guards dragged her from the room. Killian closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to practice patience. However, the anger simmered below the surface along with the fierce desire to protect the woman he loved.

A
few moments later
, Killian opened his eyes to the still empty audience chamber.
Strange. The nobles and commoners should have been called into the room for the usual audience.
He turned to ask the queen what was happening when the doors crashed open, but they didn’t slam into the walls and bounce back. A lone figure in a long cloak with the hood up stood in the center of the open doors.

The stranger didn’t move. An odd chill ran along Killian’s spine and told him when the stranger’s gaze landed on and judged him. Satisfied with his inspection, the stranger strode down the runner. Several guards moved to intercept him, but with a wave of his right hand, the men and women stopped where they were. A few were trapped mid-step, one foot in motion with the other planted on the ground. The man gestured with his other hand, and the doors at the end of the chamber slammed closed. Killian listened as the guards on the other side pounded on the wood.

“Who are you?” Anastasia demanded, rising to her feet and taking several steps toward the stranger.

“You know who I am, Majesty.” The voice was like ice on a winter’s morning, slippery and treacherous.

“You!” The queen hissed.

A thread of fear slithered down Killian’s spine, fine tendrils splintering off, threading their way through him. He put a hand on his sword and took two steps toward his grandmother before the stranger noticed him.

“Who is this boy?” the man asked. He faced Killian and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. The prince froze in place, sword one-quarter of the way out of its scabbard.

“Leave him out of this,” the queen demanded as she rose to her feet.

“He is a part of this, as are you, Majesty and the princess.”

“The princess is dead.” A tremor of fear or anxiety tainted the queen’s words.

The stranger chuckled. “You believe I speak of the late human princess.” He nodded toward Killian. “His mother? You and I both know there is more than one princess.”

“She has been married and…” the queen’s voice trailed off at the stranger’s cold glare.

“Yes, yes, yes, I know. The young human princess has been married and shipped off to the Western Kingdom.” He strolled forward. “When I found the other princess here almost eleven years ago, you swore, on your honor, she would be safe… that she knew nothing of her past. You swore she would be well-cared for if I allowed her to remain in your court.”

Killian’s mind raced, the stranger knew his grandmother and had visited Haven before. He searched his memories, but nothing about the man was familiar.

“That
your house
would show the princess hospitality and shelter her among your people until such time as she was ready to learn of her
true
parentage.”

“It has been done.” Anastasia took a few steps toward the stranger, head held high, chin tilted up, refusing to be cowed.

“Then why did I just witness her led out in chains?” The quality of the man’s voice caused the hairs on Killian’s arms and neck to stand on end. Though locked in place, his whole body tensed, and he wanted to flee. A predator was present in the room, and somehow, impossibly it resided
within
the stranger.

“She killed a member of the Royal Guard. One of my own.”

A scream welled up in Killian’s throat. A sound of rage, confusion and fear as the reality of whom they were discussing crashed over him.

“Perhaps you should be asking yourself
why
a member of your own Royal Guard would have attacked the princess?” The stranger walked right up to the queen before stopping where mere inches separated them.

“I am told it was in the course of a training bout.”

“There you have it.” The strange man shrugged and continued, “an accident plain and simple. Again, I see no need for the princess to be led out of here in chains.” He paced over to where Killian stood frozen, except for his eyes, which tracked him. “So, this is the boy?”

“Stay away from him.” The queen rounded on the man, her eyes flashing with rage.

“Of course, he is.” He looked Killian up and down. “Not bad. Reminds me of Rafe.”

Killian’s muscles ached from the exertion of trying to break the spell holding him in place. His skin crawled every time the stranger’s icy gaze landed on him. More than anything, he wanted to question this man. Wanted to know what he was talking about… wanted to know why he insisted on referring to Serena as
princess
.

Anastasia’s eyes went wide. “That agreement was never signed.”

“Do you truly wish to break a treaty with the Dragon Fey?” The man’s smile definitely resembled a serpentine appearance.

“The agreement was not formalized, and your people have been decimated.”

“It was formalized in the tradition of my people. By our law, the princess and prince are betrothed. By the queen and princess’s command and consent, finalization of the betrothal, depends on the children’s agreement. There are more Dragon Fey in the world than you humans know.”

“Why should I bind my grandson to a dying race?”

“He has been bound since he was one year old. The only question is whether you honor the agreement your daughter-in-law entered into on your behalf, but with your authority. Or will you turn your back on an alliance with my kind?” When the queen started to answer, the stranger held up a hand. “I do not require your answer.”

“What do you require?”

“Honor the hospitality your house has offered the princess for all these years. See to her care and well-being for just a few more months. I suggest you improve her accommodations. They are severely lacking for someone of her station. I will return on her twenty-third naming day at which time she will take her place among our people.” He strolled back to the center of the dais and turned to where the queen stood before her throne. “I will be watching. Should you make the wrong decision and choose to keep the princess in chains, I will return much sooner than planned… with at least a dozen of the best-trained Dragon Fey warriors at my side.” He turned on his heel and marched to the doors.

“Wait,” Anastasia called out, reaching toward the retreating form. He paused and turned back to face the queen. “What about them?” she gestured to the statues dotting the room.

He gave a little chuckle. “They will recover momentarily.”

“Make sure they can’t remember.”

The stranger smiled and glanced at Killian. “He loves her. You fear him learning her true parentage, her true station. But you know you will not be able to control either of them.”

When the queen didn’t acknowledge the statement, the stranger burst into hearty laughter. “Fear not. Your people will remember nothing. As far as they will know, the audience began just after the princess was dragged out of here, your Majesty.” He offered her a mocking bow before turning on his heel and sauntering out of the chamber.

The doors slammed, and Killian sucked in a breath, feeling as though his lungs had been frozen for several minutes. His head pounded, and his whole body ached. He let go of his sword and tried to remember when he’d started to draw it.
It must have been when the guard dragged Serena out,
he thought with a frown. Cursing his stupidity, Killian glanced around, hoping no one noticed when he released the blade. Turning his attention back to the audience, he focused on getting through the day without losing his temper.

Hours later, the sun had passed its zenith, and the queen dismissed the last petitioner, Killian started toward the side door, unsure what he meant to do next. Asking Ryan to spar crossed his mind, and in spite of his aching muscles, the idea held a great amount of appeal.

“Prince Killian,” the queen’s voice echoed through the room, “we would like to have a word with you.”

He paused, inhaled a deep breath, and turned to face his grandmother with a low bow. “As your Majesty wishes.”

“We have considered the question of Lieutenant Harlowe’s responsibility in Captain Andreas’s death.”

“Yes, your Majesty?” Killian fought to keep his shaky voice neutral.

“We have decided she bears no responsibility. It was an accident. We hereby order her immediate release from custody.”

Killian’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, time seemed to stop. When it started again, he bowed and offered perfunctory thanks. He walked out of the room at a measured pace, finding it difficult to keep from running.