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  “And you’re a warrior. Ronan said so.”

  “Yes.”

  Fliss sat up, cupping her chin in her hands. “Well, then, you must have fascinating stories to tell.”

  Not without giving away too much, Alana thought. No doubt Fliss was genuinely interested in a visiting stranger just because, but she was also an experienced courtier. The princess would pump Alana for whatever information she could get.

  Alana folded her arms. “I should be with Ronan and his soldiers.”

  “In good time.” Fliss gave a smile that was more than part grimace. “Trust me, right now the boys are indulging in a lot of preening and boasting and sorting out who has the biggest roar. The real work will begin after everyone has settled down.”

  Alana tensed. How long would it be before they realized Ronan wasn’t a dragon? And then what would happen? Apprehension made her heart beat faster, and Fliss lifted her head as if she could hear it.

  “And me?” Alana asked. “What am I to do?”

  Fliss shrugged. “Eat. Bathe. Tell me all about the human realm.”

  Better than letting her nerves blow their cover. “What do you want to know?”

  The young dragon brightened, as if this was what she’d been waiting for. “What do people do for amusement on your side of the Shimmer? What do they wear? What music do they like?”

  Alana surrendered, telling Fliss whatever she could think of, from social media to chili dogs to dating apps. Food arrived on a huge platter, and Alana feasted on chicken pie, fruit, and wine. Fliss ate with her, refusing to end her barrage of questions.

  “Tell me again about these sites you speak of. You look at a male’s picture to decide on his worth as a mate?”

  “Not just the picture. They give some basic information about themselves.”

  “And then there are adoption sites for animals, which also have pictures and information?”

  “Right.”

  Fliss wrinkled her brow. “Which do you go to in order to meet shifters?”

  Alana nearly choked on her wine. Fliss began to giggle, and then all hope of intelligent conversation ended.

  Servants brought hot water for a bath and a selection of clothes. Fliss helped Alana comb the tangles from her hair, then assisted her in buttoning in a pale green gown. It was a similar style to the one Fliss wore, with a V-shaped neck and dangling sleeves. This one had gathers just beneath Alana’s breasts, highlighting her feminine shape. It was the most beautiful piece of clothing she’d ever worn, even if it was definitely beyond her normal style. Alana wanted a mirror to see the full effect.

  Fliss shook her head. “There are no mirrors in the castle, or still ponds, or anything with a reliable reflection. It just isn’t safe.”

  “Have the Shades gotten in?”

  “Once.” Fliss dropped her gaze. “We lost my big sister that day.”

  Reflexively, Alana eyed the room. She wondered if the beautiful chamber had been the scene of the tragedy.

  “I wouldn’t worry,” Fliss said lightly. “You look wonderful.”

  “Does it cover everything?”

  “Do you mean your scars? Almost, but really, don’t be concerned about them.” Fliss sounded slightly envious. “They make you look like someone a dragon can respect.”

  Alana held out her arms, entertained by the trailing cuffs that were edged in silver bells. They gave a sweet tinkle whenever she moved—which would eventually annoy her, but not yet.

  A knock sounded at the door. Alana expected another of the servants who had been coming and going with food, clothes, and toiletries. She had been distracted by their presence, though Fliss seemed to barely notice they were there. This time, however, it was Ronan who entered.

  Fliss rose with an innocent expression. “I should see if the chamberlain needs anything.” And then she left.

  Ronan had changed clothes as well, and appeared every inch a prince in dark silks and velvet. The only embellishment was black embroidery along his cuffs and collar. The tiny stitches looked like ebony flames.

  “Hello,” he said, taking her in.

  Alana smiled. “I like your sister. She’s very bossy.”

  “Fliss was a young hellion when I saw her last.”

  “I don’t think much has changed.”

  A silence followed in which they simply gazed at one another. Ronan seemed happy, and no wonder. He was back with his family and the role he’d been meant to fulfill. Now she could see everything he’d lost. A sweet pain, almost like nostalgia, filled her. Perhaps it was longing on his behalf. Perhaps it was regret, because it soon turned to heaviness.

  The problem was that he couldn’t have his old life back. When Fliss had been out instructing the servants, Alana had stowed the lamp under the floorboards beneath her bed. It was safe for now, but the curse that tied him to it was far from broken. She’d used two wishes. If she used the third, their bond would be over, and who knew what Ronan would be compelled to do.

  “Why not tell your father and sister everything that’s happened?” she asked. “Why are you pretending everything is fine?”

  He closed his eyes. “I thought I would, as soon as I got my bearings. But an hour in this court, with these officers, has shown me what’s really here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Fliss is doing an amazing job running things, but most want to see her married. Father is no help. The officers are squabbling. Bright Wing is on the brink of collapse from within.”

  “And you think you can save it?”

  Ronan gave his head a slight shake. “They think I can save it. It’s my duty to try.”

  “But…”

  “I can’t leave Fliss without support.” Ronan began to pace, moving to the window and back with the coiled grace of a leopard. “Besides, we came here because we were chasing Corby. We wanted to stop him, and ultimately the Shades. With Bright Wing, we have an army of dragons to help us do it. Maybe now we have a chance of success.”

  He had a good point, but there was a flaw. “How are you going to fight?”

  His half-smile was amused. “With a sword. I’m under a vow to abandon my beast form until you agree to marry me.”

  Alana sat on a window seat, suddenly exhausted. “Is anyone actually going to believe that? I’m about as far as it gets from a princess. My foster parents think my mother was a forest fae, but I don’t even know that for sure. My father is a complete mystery, but I’m certain he was no king.”

  He stopped in his tracks, regarding her. “They will believe us. My people love you for bringing me back. Give them a chance to love you for yourself.”

  Alana shook her head. That goodwill wouldn’t last once they knew the truth. This was a bunch who didn’t take chances, with no mirrors in the house and the patriarch in permanent dragon-mode.

  Ronan approached the window seat, holding out his hands. “The truth is, Alana, if something happens to me, Bright Wing has the best chance of keeping you safe.”

  Alana reached for her knife hilt, only to grab a handful of silky folds. She shook them off with disgust. “How about I keep you safe?”

  His eyes softened, and he folded her in his arms. Alana buried her face in his chest, searching for a sense of stability. Everyone here seemed adrift. The king in his vigil and the queen dead from grief. Fliss scrambling to keep things together. Ronan believing he could somehow defeat the monster who held him in chains. She wasn’t much better, in this ridiculous dress and in the arms of a lover she could never keep, however this story ended.

  “How did I end up here?” she murmured. “I wanted vengeance for Tina. Now I’ve got dragons and dark tyrants and a princess fending off her suitors!”

  “My apologies,” Ronan said, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I’ve complicated your life.”

  “It’s not a joke. I don’t know what to do.”

  He tilted her face up to his. “You always make the right choice. You lead with your heart.”

  “What do you mean?
”

  “You confronted Henry today. He disappointed you, yet you saved him in the end. If you hadn’t, we never would have discovered Corby’s true nature.”

  “But that got us here, deep in enemy territory.”

  He stroked her hair. “With a dragon army at our backs. Trust what we’ve accomplished.”

  The next kiss lightly brushed her eyelids, then her nose and chin, and finally her mouth. He cherished her with each touch, letting her know how much he wanted her by his side. Alana melted beneath him, but she took as good as she got, drinking him in with a thirst she’d never known.

  His fingers slid along her jaw, to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Alana shivered and angled her chin, giving him better access. His lips brushed her ear, then followed the slope of her shoulder to the neckline of her gown. The rush of his breath against her skin sent tingling along every nerve. She reached up, stroking his cheek while the silver bells on her sleeve tinkled faintly.

  Ronan’s fingers slid beneath the wide neckline of her gown to find her hardening nipple. His touch made her gasp, but he stopped the sound with a kiss.

  “Hush,” he murmured. “Dragons have excellent hearing, and I wouldn’t trust Fliss not to listen at a keyhole.”

  But he had her body pulsing, each stroke of her breast sending a throb of heat to her belly. She arched into his hand, demanding more until he pushed the bodice aside and took her with his hot, wet mouth.

  Her fingers searched his unfamiliar clothes, finding the silver buttons of his jacket. The velvet and fine stitching were sensuous to touch, the shirt beneath a light material that clung to his sculptured frame. Through the gauze of her skirts, she felt the swelling hardness of his body. She pulled open his collar to kiss the soft skin at the notch of his throat. His clothes smelled of sandalwood, clean and spicy and warmed by his growing heat. His chest was lightly dusted with hair that arrowed downward as his torso narrowed to lean hips. She glided her fingertips below his waistband and chuckled at his sudden, choking breath.

  When she did it again, he batted her hands aside and deftly undid those buttons himself. His hard length filled her hands with a generosity that made her pulse quicken. Ronan advanced, forcing her to walk backward toward the bed. Alana moved carefully, the last rational part of her mind anxious about tripping on her gown. That was too slow for an impatient prince. Ronan lifted her by the waist, setting her on the edge of the bed and skimming his hands up her thighs to push aside the filmy cloud of her skirts.

  By then, she was more than ready to take him, though his first thrust drew an indiscreet cry from her lips. His laugh was barely audible, but oh so male. Their lovemaking was slow, a thorough exploration of stolen pleasure that ended in a long, bruising kiss.

  Afterward, Alana lay curled in Ronan’s arms, her dress finally discarded in a drift upon the floor. She traced his features with her fingertips, marveling at his strong, boldly drawn features.

  “Should I be honored, catching the fancy of a prince?” she teased.

  He caught her hand, then tenderly placed a kiss in her palm. “I am the one who is honored. A title is mere words, Alana. Be the princess that you already are, and you will rule every heart.”

  14

  “What do you mean, you don’t dance?” Fliss asked as she stood in front of the great wardrobe that held all her dresses. She was the same height as Alana, and her clothes were a close enough fit to share. “Everyone can dance.”

  “I can dance in place while hitting somebody,” Alana said, a touch sullenly. “It’s a thing where I come from.”

  Fliss managed an eyeroll that would have been a credit to any human high-schooler. She then took down a gown before holding it up to Alana. “You’ll just have to do your best. Wear something long enough that no one can see your feet.”

  “Why do I have to dance?” Alana backed away, regarding the pink confection with a frown.

  “It’s a ball. You and Ronan are the guests of honor. Deal with it. It’s a thing where I come from.” Fliss was picking up Alana’s slang like an eager parrot. Giving up on the pink, the princess considered something yellow. “No, you’ll look like a parsnip in that.”

  “Can’t I visit the armory instead?” Maybe Alana could wish herself out of this?

  “You can’t have fun all the time.” Ronan’s sister gave a pout.

  As Fliss had predicted, proper war councils had begun the day after their arrival. Alana attended but said little. She counted herself a warrior, but her fights had been against no more than a handful of opponents at a time. She knew nothing of armies, and less—if that were possible—about dragon armies. Keeping her mouth shut and her ears open seemed like the smart move.

  She was rewarded by learning a lot, not just about attack vectors and ground maneuvers, but about how the captains regarded Ronan. He had been an unbeatable general until his disappearance. Now his return was hailed in almost mythical terms as a sign that the tides of war had turned. Even those jockeying for positions of power bowed to his leadership. Murmurs in the castle halls took on a note of hope.

  There was only one holdout, in Alana’s mind. “What do you make of Captain Jenowan?”

  “That idiot?” Fliss curled her lip. “He fancies himself one of my suitors.”

  “Oh really?” That surprised Alana. Even she could see their personalities would never match. “I take it you aren’t a fan?”

  “He likes my title far more than he likes me. I suppose becoming heir to the throne of Bright Wing would suit him very well—or it would have. Now he’s sulking because Ronan is back and spoiling all his plans.”

  “The entire Wheel is at stake,” Alana said. “There’s no room for drama.”

  “Teetering on the cusp of extinction doesn’t deter fools from being fools.” Fliss held up a blue dress covered in a net of seed pearls. “Now this one says Alana.”

  Ronan climbed to the crag to visit his father, grateful for the chance to escape the clamor of the council and its opinions. It had been a fruitful session, but Ronan had much to catch up on from his absence. Covering even the highlights had made the meeting long. Now his mind was full of options, plans, and risks to manage. Each of the captains had been given tasks, and they had dispersed until it was time to reconvene for that evening’s ball. That would be the highlight of his homecoming—for this one night, everyone would celebrate. Alana would glimpse what the fae world had been like before the coming of the Shades.

  He opened the oak door, striding through onto the crag. The great dragon was back, lying in the same position as when Ronan had arrived home. The carpet he’d enchanted was now rolled up and propped against the side of the cliff.

  “Father?” Ronan said quietly, wondering if the dragon was asleep.

  But no. The orange eye swiveled in his direction. Ronan approached slowly and sank down in the shelter of his father’s flank, just as he had as a boy. Back then, his father had been the stern embodiment of wisdom, of everything Ronan wanted to be. He’d been part of the Council of the Wheel and the right hand of the mighty Jorwarth, High King of the Faery Realm. Ronan remembered the lords of the council—kings, queens, princes, and wise bards—in their shining armor and jeweled robes. Back then, in those days of childhood, it seemed nothing could shake the deep roots of his world. But war had come, and so many deaths. Before his final battle, he had carried his mother’s still form to her funeral pyre.

  Now his father had retreated—whether from grief, exhaustion, or disappointment Ronan couldn’t say. Dragons had no speech to share their thoughts.

  For a long moment, they sat in silence, watching the flight of the patrols crisscrossing the plains.

  “I know it’s been a long, hard time for you, Father,” Ronan said gently. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone.”

  The dragon gave a snort of steam. Ronan interpreted it as a signal to keep talking. “I’ve come to help in any way I can. So far, the captains seem solid. On the whole, though, Fliss has more common sense than most of them combined
.”

  At that, the king turned his head.

  “Of course I had her at the table. And Alana. The younger captains are too eager to please, and I need a range of opinions.”

  The dragon rumbled.

  “I’m not the dragon I was when I left,” Ronan replied. “I didn’t leave of my own free will. I was angry, then despairing, and finally numb. I was forced to learn a great deal about humility and endurance.”

  His father went very still.

  “And then I met Alana, who changed everything. If something happens to me, I need you and Fliss to look out for her. This isn’t her world, and she’ll need someone to show her the way.”

  His father gave no sign he’d heard, so Ronan pushed on. “Another thing. I could use your help with the officers. Like I said, there are some who are eager to do everything I say just because I’m telling them what to do. They want a strong leader who is visibly in charge.”

  And didn’t abandon them like you did. His anger pushed him to say it, but his father had suffered and criticism would be cruel. Ronan would find a way to say what was in his heart when it wouldn’t destroy the bridge he was trying to build.

  “Unfortunately,” Ronan continued, “there are others used to having their own way. They’re all smiles now, but pulling them together will be a challenge. If you could demonstrate that you’re behind me, that would go a long way.”

  The dragon pushed itself up to sit on its haunches, then rumbled. Ronan got to his feet, watching as the king slid from the ledge and into the air, spreading wings that seemed to span the horizon. He was gone again, retreated to the solitude of the sky. Ronan had asked for support, but had been left alone.

  So this was what Fliss had endured all this time. No wonder she had wept in relief when he’d shown up. By rights, he should be able to take some of the load off her slim shoulders. Except—wasn’t he simply an actor giving the illusion of a dragon prince?

  But what other options were there? His chest ached with discontent and discouragement. Ronan could do nothing—like his father—or he could fight with what strength he had. There was no question which path made more sense, even if it seemed built upon quicksand.