Eight Simple Rules for Dating a Dragon

  He stepped closer. “Then you think there’s another explanation for the queen’s illness or the deaths of her children?”

  Gwennore grew increasingly tense. “Perhaps.”

  He gave her a speculative look. “Perhaps you should ask yourself who would benefit the most from the deaths of the royal children.”

  Her breath caught. “Are you saying they were murdered?”

  “Anything’s possible.” Romak shrugged. “Who would gain the most, do you think?”

  “I suppose it would be the next in line.”

  “The heir?” Romak’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Then that would be His Majesty’s younger brother. I believe you know him well.”

  “I do?”

  Romak chuckled. “You’re sleeping with him.”

  Gwennore stiffened. Silas was the heir?

  Romak’s eyes widened. “The general didn’t tell you?” He snorted. “I always knew he wasn’t to be trusted.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gwennore attempted to appear unaffected, even though her mind was reeling. How could Silas fail to tell her something so important? He had to know that she would find out. What else is he hiding from me? How can I trust him when he doesn’t trust me?

  “Oh, dear.” Romak lifted a hand to his face, doing a poor job of covering a nasty sneer. “I seem to have given you a shock.”

  Gwennore’s sense of pride shot to the surface, giving her a boost of strength. “Shock, yes. I am definitely shocked you could suggest that someone as honorable as General Dravenko could have possibly caused harm to his brother’s children. I would hate for His Majesty to hear you are spreading such a horrific rumor.”

  Romak’s smile quickly vanished as his eyes hardened. “I see you are loyal to the general. I just hope you haven’t fallen in love with him. For you must know that whoever marries him will be doomed to lose her children and go insane.”

  Gwennore swallowed hard. “Your concern has been noted. Good day, my lord.”

  She strode away, her heart pounding. Would the people here think she was trying to marry into the royal family?

  “Good evening, my lady,” Dimitri greeted her as she came to a stop beside him. He tilted his head, studying her. “Is something wrong?”

  She gave him an annoyed look. “You can’t tell? Why don’t you invade my thoughts and find out?”

  He winced. “That was never intentional. And believe me, it was damned uncomfortable.”

  “So sorry to cause you discomfort.”

  “Exactly. If I had to hear you calling Silas General Gorgeous one more time, I thought I was going to puke.” He smiled when she shot him a dirty look. “Seriously, though, I am glad you’ve learned to build a shield.”

  She crossed her arms, still glaring at him.

  He leaned close and whispered, “I don’t have to read your mind to know that Romak upset you. What did the weasel say?”

  “He inferred that Silas may have killed the king’s children in order to inherit—”

  “Bastard.” Dimitri clenched his fists. “I should rearrange his face so he’ll find it hard to say any more crap.”

  “I warned him not to repeat it.”

  “Good.”

  Gwennore shook her head. “It’s not good. I was caught completely by surprise. Why didn’t the general tell me he was heir to the throne?”

  Dimitri winced. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No. Who’s going to believe we’re close when I don’t know the most basic things about him? What else is he hiding?”

  Dimitri looked away, frowning.

  There is something. “What is it?” An alarming thought struck her. “Does he have a mistress somewhere else?”

  “Not at the moment. Women are generally reluctant to get involved with any man from the cursed clans.”

  “People really believe that?”

  A pained look crossed Dimitri’s face. “It is true.”

  Gwennore sighed. As far as she was concerned, the curse was only true if you believed in it. But what else could Silas be hiding?

  A loud, clanging sound interrupted her thoughts, and she turned toward the entrance. Using a carved wooden baton, a servant struck a gold gong, and another clang reverberated across the Great Hall.

  The gong was suspended next to the double doors of the entrance. Precious jewels lined the perimeter of the gong and shimmered in the multitude of lit candlesticks.

  “His Majesty, King Petras; Her Majesty, Queen Freya; and His Highness, Prince Silas,” the servant announced in a booming voice.

  The courtiers quickly parted to leave a wide path down the middle of the room, then all bowed and curtsied. Gwennore sank into a deep curtsy, her heart thudding in her chest. Prince Silas? And everyone believes he is my lover?

  With her gaze downcast, she grew tense when the king and queen passed by her on their way to the dais. A pair of booted feet stopped in front of her.

  Silas. She rose from her curtsy but avoided looking at him.

  “We need to talk,” he whispered.

  She snorted. For someone who kept wanting to talk to her, he managed not to tell her much.

  When he moved away, she stole a glance at him and watched him step onto the dais. He frowned, casting a wary look at the jeweled coronet hanging over his chair. Was she just imagining it, or did he seem uncomfortable?

  When the royal family took their seats, the rest of the courtiers rushed to the smaller tables to sit down. Servants came in, carrying huge trays of food.

  Gwennore sat next to Dimitri, her heart still thudding as she occasionally glanced up at the dais. If she had met the king earlier, she could have guessed he was related to Silas. They were both tall, with black hair, green eyes, and similar jaws, although she had to admit that Silas was much more handsome.

  Petras was probably in his mid-thirties, although he looked older. The weight of his office must be wearing on him, she thought, or perhaps he was becoming ill like the queen. There were dark circles under his eyes, wrinkles were etched deeply into his brow, and his shoulders slumped in a way she interpreted as sadness or weariness.

  She glanced over at Silas. He looked wonderfully fit compared with his older brother. His gaze lifted from his plate of food to look at her, and she glanced away.

  “He should have told me,” she muttered. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  Dimitri paused in the middle of slicing into a piece of roast mutton. “I don’t think it’s something he’s comfortable with. He’s actually spent very little time here with his brother.”

  “He grew up with you and Aleksi?”

  Dimitri nodded. “We were all trained to be soldiers. It was always assumed that Petras would have several sons, so Silas never believed he would inherit the throne.”

  “He still should have told me.”

  “Probably so.” Dimitri ate while he considered. “I can tell you this. He always introduces himself as General Dravenko. That is how he sees himself. He’s spent most of his life with the army. That is his home. Not here.”

  “I see.”

  Dimitri offered her something underneath the table. “He wanted you to have this.”

  A dagger? “What is this for?”

  “Slide it up your sleeve,” Dimitri advised. “It’s a gift from Lord Romak. He’s hoping you’ll kill Silas in his sleep.”

  She scoffed. “You might find this hard to believe, but I can be peeved without being homicidal.”

  He smiled. “I wasn’t going to give it to you, but Silas told me to go ahead.”

  “He has a death wish?”

  Dimitri chuckled. “No. He thought you might need it for self-defense.”

  A chill crept up her spine. “Are you saying our investigation will be dangerous?”

  His smile vanished. “You’ll have to careful. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.” As she slid the small dagger up her sleeve, she reminded herself why she was here. To kee
p other children from being kidnapped. To help Silas save his people. To find a cure for the queen.

  With a small shock, she realized that Silas’s mother had been the former queen. His mother had fallen into madness and thrown herself into the Norva River. And now the current queen was in danger of succumbing to a similar fate. No wonder no one wanted to marry into the family.

  Another startling realization skittered through Gwennore, making her stiffen in her chair.

  Sorcha was a princess.

  * * *

  “That should do it.” Gwennore looked over the collection of thirty bowls scattered about the queen’s dressing room.

  After dessert had been served, Lady Margosha had escorted her to the queen’s dressing room. While Her Majesty and the rest of her ladies-in-waiting were occupied with the dance in the Great Hall, Gwennore and Margosha were secretly testing the queen’s belongings for poison.

  After filling each bowl half full with water, they had selected different items for testing. The sleeve of a nightgown had gone into one bowl, the sleeve of a day gown into another. A glove, a scarf, a sock, a cap, several rings, bracelets, necklaces, and hairpins—anything that the queen might come into contact with on a regular basis.

  “I didn’t realize we could be poisoned through our skin,” Margosha said as she peered into one of the bowls. “So you’re hoping some of the poison will seep into the water?”

  “If the poison is there, yes. Then we can test the water and return the items where they belong.”

  Margosha nodded. “If she notices any of the wet items, I’ll just tell her I had them washed. She’ll never know what we’ve done.”

  “Was Her Majesty angry when she found out that we’d returned Eviana?”

  “Actually, she took it very well. But then she’s surprisingly lucid today. Every now and then, she seems almost normal, and we get our hopes up.” Margosha heaved a sigh. “But it doesn’t last.”

  “I’m sorry.” Gwennore wandered about the room, checking on each of the bowls. “I can’t imagine the pain of losing five children.”

  Margosha sat at the dressing table, her shoulders slumped. “It’s taken a great toll on the queen. The king, too.”

  “I heard that women all over the country are having trouble conceiving.”

  Margosha winced. “That is true, but it’s considered a state secret. Silas and the king believe it would be disastrous for other countries to know that our population is dwindling. It has gotten so bad that Silas has allowed women to become soldiers in order to make it look like we have a full army. He worries that other countries will attack if they realize we’re vulnerable.”

  “I don’t think he needs to worry about Eberon or Tourin. They both want peace.”

  “Yes, but that’s a new development because they have new kings.” Margosha wrinkled her nose. “The former kings were so nasty, they would have attacked. And there’s still the problem with Woodwyn. Silas has been trying to convince his brother that we should make peace with the elves. We can’t afford to lose any more of our people in battle.”

  “Why is Norveshka at war with Woodwyn?”

  Margosha shrugged. “Who knows? Every now and then, the elves attack one of our villages. We don’t know why, but we have to defend ourselves.”

  “Mayhap—I mean, perhaps—you should send an envoy to Woodwyn to discover the motivation behind their attacks.”

  Margosha nodded. “Silas’s father tried that about twenty years ago. He sent an envoy, Dimitri’s uncle, but Lord Tolenko never returned. We can only assume the elves murdered him.”

  Gwennore winced.

  “Has enough time passed?” Margosha motioned to the nearest bowl. “We can’t be caught doing this.”

  “I’ll start testing.” Gwennore dipped a silver spoon into the first bowl. No reaction.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “The most commonly used poison reacts to silver by turning it black,” Gwennore explained as she wiped the spoon dry. She went about the room, dipping the spoon into each bowl. No reaction.

  “So the queen’s not being poisoned through her belongings?” Margosha asked.

  “We can’t be sure yet.” Gwennore removed the nightgown sleeve from the water and wrung it dry. “This only means that the guilty party is not using poison derived from the seeds of the darca flower. It’s the most common poison, since darcas can be found in almost every garden on Aerthlan.”

  Margosha nodded. “There are some here in the castle garden.”

  “I’ll go through the garden tomorrow to check for other plants that can be used to make poison.” Gwennore poured the water from the bowl into a small glass vial, then rammed a cork in it.

  “I was wondering why you wanted all those vials.” Margosha motioned to the sack she’d brought into the room, along with all the bowls and a pitcher of water.

  “Thank you for bringing all the items I requested.” Gwennore wrote WHITE LINEN NIGHTGOWN on a label and tied it to the vial.

  “I’m happy to help.” Margosha watched as she moved on to the next bowl. “So you plan to keep a sample of water from each bowl?”

  “Yes. So I can test for other kinds of poison.” Gwennore removed a ring from a bowl and dried it. “Could you put this back?”

  “Of course.” Margosha helped her, and soon all the clothing and jewelry items were back where they belonged and they had thirty labeled vials of water.

  They were drying the bowls and stacking them in a sack when a knock sounded on the door, startling them.

  They whirled toward the door just as Silas peered inside.

  “Oh, Holy Light.” Margosha pressed a hand to her chest. “You scared the life out of me.”

  “Her Majesty is on her way here,” Silas whispered. “You need to leave now.”

  “We’re almost done.” Gwennore quickly dropped another bowl into the sack.

  “I said now,” Silas ground out.

  “You go.” Margosha motioned for her to leave. “I’ll finish up here and sneak everything out.”

  “Are you sure?” Gwennore gasped when Silas grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the door.

  “It’s part of my job to keep the queen’s dressing room in order,” Margosha quickly explained. “Hurry now!”

  “We’ll create a distraction,” Silas said as he pulled Gwennore through the doorway, then shut the door.

  “I don’t like the way she keeps endangering herself,” Gwennore whispered.

  “Then help me distract the queen.” He led her a short distance down the hallway, then stopped close to a doorway. “This is the queen’s bedchamber. She’ll be sure to see us here.”

  Gwennore tugged her arm free from his grip. “What are you planning?”

  He turned his head toward the end of the hallway. “She’ll be coming up the stairs soon with her ladies.”

  Gwennore shut her eyes, focusing on her extra-powerful sense of hearing. “They’re on the stairs now.”

  “Your hearing is that good?”

  She opened her eyes to find him peering curiously at one of her ears. “Stop that.” She stepped back against the wall and covered her ears before he could see them turning red from embarrassment.

  “Why are you hiding them? I think they’re cute.”

  She gave him a wary look. “What does that mean?”

  “Ah. Another word that’s too modern for you. Cute is—” He glanced down the hallway as Queen Freya reached the top of the stairs. “Can you act as well as you can hear?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Play along.” He slammed a hand against the wall close to her head, making her jump.

  He was trying to draw the queen’s attention, she realized. She glanced toward the queen to see if it had worked, but he suddenly blocked her view, leaning in close.

  She stiffened. “What are you—”

  “Shh.” He nuzzled her neck.

  She shivered at the feel of his breath feathering the curve of her neck. Goodness, she
could hardly breathe. Was that the tip of his nose trailing up to her ear? It made her skin prickle with goose bumps. “Is—is this the distraction?”

  “Mmm.” He nibbled softly on her neck.

  She pressed her palms against the wall, seeking its support, for she feared her knees would give out. “You couldn’t think of anything else?”

  “No. We’re having a moment of passion.”

  “We are?”

  He nipped at her earlobe. “Do you always talk like this when you’re having a moment of passion?”

  “I—what makes you think I’m having such a moment?”

  He paused, then drew back to look at her.

  Was that a glint of gold in his eyes? It made him look wild. And hungry. She glanced away, biting her lip. Why did he have to be so appealing?

  “You’re not feeling anything?”

  She shook her head. Thank the goddesses, he could no longer hear her thoughts.

  “Then I’ll have to try harder, won’t I?” He pulled her close, locking one arm around her waist. His other hand cupped the back of her head.

  She gasped. They were pressed against each other so tightly, she couldn’t breathe without her breasts pushing against his hard chest. The hallway swirled before her, so she shut her eyes and grabbed on to him for support. If he tried any harder than this, she might melt into a puddle at his feet.

  His breath warmed her neck, then she felt the soft brush of his lips, grazing her throat and moving to her cheek. Closer and closer, he came to her mouth. Good goddesses, was he going to kiss her?

  “Gwen?” he whispered, his lips moving against her skin.

  Was he asking permission? She drew in a shaky breath. She was tempted, so very tempted to turn her head and meet his mouth with her own.

  “You stopped talking.” His mouth reached the corner of hers. “Does that mean you’re feeling the passion now?”

  She blinked. Was he playing with her? Had this all been a game to him?

  “Silas!” the queen screeched. “Whatever are you doing?”

  He drew a deep breath, his chest moving against her. Then he released her as his mouth curled up. “Oh, dear. We’ve been caught.”