Wyvern's Prince (The Dragons of Incendium Book 2)

  The pet had been a gift from Arista, after all.

  The rhythm of swimming and catching her breath gave her a chance to think. Arista had always said that warriors came in many guises and were armed with many different weapons. She ought to have known. She had been contracted as a mercenary for years in between her stints of teaching on Cumae.

  Wouldn’t Arista have considered Urbanus a warrior, as well? Gemma thought she might have done. Wasn’t he fighting for what he desired, but using his own arsenal? He’d anticipated Gemma’s own plan and disarmed her with his sorcery before she could execute it, and done so in order to see his own goals achieved. That sounded like war to Gemma.

  Or at least a battle for supremacy.

  She couldn’t shift shape anymore, which was less than ideal, but it didn’t mean she was helpless either. Gemma could fight back, or maybe even outsmart Urbanus, even in her human form.

  The trick would be to anticipate him.

  How could she do that without knowing his goal?

  She thought about the toad’s question. Was she part of Urbanus’ plan, key to it, or an obstacle? She couldn’t be an obstacle yet, because he would have simply killed her when he had the chance. He’d let her live, although he’d disabled her ability to shift shape. That implied that he still needed her, and that he wanted to control her until she fulfilled her usefulness to him.

  She was pretty sure he’d intended to consummate their marriage, and would have done so if the toad hadn’t saved her.

  Did they share the goal of securing the alliance between Incendium and Regalia by marriage? Or did Urbanus believe that the child of their union would be able to save their twin planets from destruction? Or did he simply want to cement the alliance between their planets, given the reliance of Regalia on Incendium? If any of those were the case, he’d need her to survive at least long enough to bear their son.

  He wanted to keep her on Regalia, that was clear, and under his control. Her dragon powers would have given her the ability to escape, so had to be undermined. Was her power gone forever? Gemma didn’t want to think about that possibility, but it was worth consideration. She doubted that Urbanus wanted her to regain the ability to shift shape any time soon, if ever.

  The toad had mentioned an antidote, which implied that the spell would hold unless she found the antidote. How would she find it without the toad’s help? She didn’t know nearly enough about either spells or Regalia. Her assumption that she wouldn’t be on the planet long now seemed foolish.

  She didn’t blame the toad for expecting better of her.

  Arista would have expected better of her, too. She’d let her confidence keep her from making contingency plans, and now she was in a predicament with no way to let anyone know. All her comm, even her interpreter, had been stripped away after the wedding ceremony. Urbanus had charmed her mother when he’d called them distractions to romance. Gemma had ceded, sure that she could triumph without them.

  She was annoyed by her own gullibility. The truth was that she’d underestimated Urbanus, and that he’d used that to his strategic advantage.

  She had to turn the tables on him and escape.

  Without the toad’s help.

  Did all the toads on Regalia talk? Gemma thought not. Her toad had said it was enchanted. Who was it really? Had it been cursed by Urbanus, too?

  Maybe she should have kissed it.

  * * *

  What Gemma didn’t realize was that when she considered kissing the toad, she had touched him on his parietal eye, the mystic third eye also known as the pineal gland. It was in the middle of his forehead, marked by a white spot. Toads saw the world differently from men, but the fact that this toad was actually a man, and one from a family of sorcerers, meant that his parietal eye was particularly well developed.

  The touch of Gemma’s fingertip restored Venero’s ability to send dreams.

  As soon as Venero realized as much, he wanted to do more than kiss Gemma.

  He realized it by chance, when a hawk swooped down toward him as soon as he reached the bank of the river. On impulse, Venero sent a dream to the hawk of a full belly. The hawk swooped down and scooped him up, and Venero feared that nothing had changed. But the hawk flew and flew, carrying him like a treasure, and he dared to believe again. He sent the hawk a dream of flying toward Celo’s hut and dropping him there.

  It worked.

  Venero could have shouted with glee. Gemma had helped him regain his DreamCasting powers, which might mean that she could break the spell completely.

  Maybe he’d misunderstood the notion of true love.

  Maybe it was about admiration and respect.

  Either way, his restored abilities saved him a lot of hopping, even if he was a bit bruised from the drop.

  Venero had forgotten how good it felt to have some control over his own fate, never mind how easy it was to turn the thoughts of wild creatures to his will. He’d first used his skill with woodland creatures, then after practice, had turned to humans. His siblings were another level of challenge altogether.

  Venero hoped his youngest brother would be of aid, although influencing Celo would be a greater challenge than tricking a hawk or a cervus.

  * * *

  Celo was exactly where Venero had expected him to be. He was outside his little hut in the depths of the forest, chopping wood.

  Venero’s youngest brother didn’t look much like a prince of the royal blood of Regalia. His hair was longer and his beard was almost to his waist. He was more muscular than Venero recalled, but he’d have to be working hard to survive in the old forest. That told Venero how determined Celo was to never go back to the palace.

  Not that Venero could blame him.

  Celo’s axe fell with regular rhythm. Venero was exhausted but he hopped the last distance and leaped onto the woodpile.

  “Well met, brother mine,” he said, and Celo started.

  He stared, then buried his axe into the chopping block and bent to look Venero in the eye. “Not you,” he said grimly, which wasn’t the warmest of welcomes. “Not again.”

  “Me. Again.” Venero tried to smile. “Good to see you, too.”

  “Don’t you ever give up?”

  “Not in my nature, I’m afraid.”

  Celo grimaced and spared a glance upward. The trees were dense but far above their branches, the clear blue sky could be seen.

  “I wasn’t followed,” Venero said.

  “Yet,” Celo noted and he had to concede that possibility. “You promised,” Celo accused, folding his arms across his chest as he eyed Venero again.

  “I did, and I apologize.”

  “And you’ve shielded your thoughts,” Celo noted. “At least you haven’t lost all of your powers.” He lifted his brows. “Or maybe you’ve met your one true love. Is she beautiful? Demure?”

  Venero didn’t answer that. “There’s a damsel in distress that I need you to help.”

  “The lady in question?”

  “Urbanus’ new bride.”

  Celo grimaced. “Isn’t she in the tower, conceiving his son? Isn’t he busy for once?”

  “She escaped.”

  “Of course, you had nothing to do with that.” Celo shook his head and went back to his wood pile. “You’ve got to stop challenging him. It never ends well for you.”

  Venero ignored that bit of advice, just as he had a hundred times before. “She’s coming this way, and you need to help her.”

  Celo turned, his eyes narrowed. “Of course, you had nothing to do with that either.”

  “Me?”

  The youngest prince propped his hands on his knees and bent down so that his face was only a finger’s breadth from Venero’s toad face. “I don’t need to do anything. And I’m not going to do anything that might attract his attention. I don’t need that kind of trouble. Let her run through the forest until he finds her. Let them sort it out themselves.”

  “She needs help.”

  “She can ask her husband for
some.”

  “She’s very pretty.”

  Celo’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not my problem.”

  “I think she is.” Venero lied, just a little. “That’s why she’s coming here.”

  Celo pushed a hand through his hair. He couldn’t have looked less cooperative and his words were grudgingly uttered. “What do I have to do to get rid of her?”

  “Stoke up your fire. She’ll be wet and needs to get warm. Find some old clothes you can give her and heat up some soup. Then send her to the Queen’s Grotto in the Citadel, as quickly as you can.”

  Celo flinched and took a step back. “I can’t send anyone to that place.”

  “I thought you wanted to get rid of her.”

  “But there? You know what Mother does to intruders.”

  “Which is why you need to give her your satchel, all packed with food for the journey.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Venero tried again to smile. “I’ll be tucked inside.”

  Celo shook his head. “Who exactly needs to help her, Venero? You or me?”

  “Me. But I have certain limitations at this time.”

  Consideration dawned in Celo’s eyes. “What exactly is she to you? Are you hoping she’ll help you?”

  “She did already. That’s why I can shield my thoughts and cast dreams again.”

  “She kissed you? When you’re like that?” Celo was clearly astonished.

  “No, she touched my forehead. It was enough to break part of the curse.”

  Celo chuckled. “Lost some of your charm?”

  Venero found himself bristling. “I’m doing fairly well, considering the circumstances.”

  “But does that mean she’s your true love?”

  “There’s no such thing as true love…”

  “You’d better hope there is, unless you want to stay like that for the rest of your life.”

  Venero had nothing to say to that.

  “A little awkward that she’s married to Urbanus, isn’t it?” Celo started to laugh then, which Venero thought entirely inappropriate.

  “She’s not my true love,” he said with some annoyance. “But she’s helpful, and I want to help her in return…”

  “How?”

  “Urbanus has cast a spell over her. She didn’t deserve it. The antidote will be in the grotto.”

  Celo sobered. “Who ever deserves what they get in this kingdom?” He sighed. “All right. I’ll help her, but don’t be surprised if I do it quickly.”

  “I wouldn’t be.”

  “And this is it. We’re even forever now.”

  “Of course.”

  “And if Urbanus catches me—or Mother does—I’ll say it was your fault.” Celo dropped his voice. “I’ll say you beguiled me into it. You admitted that your powers were back, after all.”

  Venero felt a grim resolve. “Deal.”

  Celo nodded and grabbed an armload of firewood. Venero hopped onto the top of the pile and his brother carried it to the hut. “That satchel,” Celo said with a nod at a leather bag hanging from a peg. Venero jumped off the firewood, and Celo dumped it by the fire. He then put the bag on a bench and opened the flap. Venero hopped in and sighed, content that he could rest for a while.

  “What happened to your leg?”

  “It’s cut and bruised. It hurts but it’ll heal.”

  “How’d that happen?”

  Venero grimaced. “She has a pavofel and it hunts.”

  “A pavofel?”

  “Big mean bastard.”

  “A feline pet.” Celo shook his head. “Just your luck. I know how you hate them. She must be pretty.” Celo had taken down a crockery pot from the shelf above the table and crouched down beside the bench. He peeled back the protective covering and Venero smelled the pungent herbs in the unguent.

  “She’ll smell it.”

  “Chances are good she might need some, too. Or the pavofel.”

  “You’re right. We jumped into the river to avoid spelldust. The pavofel wasn’t amused.”

  Celo straightened as his expression turned to horror. “Spelldust? He loosed spelldust and you didn’t tell me?”

  “An unfortunate oversight. I told you now.”

  His brother exhaled and his lips tightened, but still he bent closer. “Let me see.” Celo applied the unguent with a fingertip, and Venero sighed in relief as he felt its healing power warm his skin. “Just how pretty is she?” Celo murmured. “Beautiful?”

  “She’s a warrior princess from Incendium,” Venero said, ducking the question.

  “Of course, she is, but is she beautiful too?”

  Venero sighed. “Yes. But a dragon shifter.”

  “You and your warrior women,” Celo teased. “Maybe this form is doing you a favor. How long would it take her to fall in love with you otherwise?”

  Venero didn’t find the joke very funny. “I don’t think we have to worry about that. She hates toads.”

  “Well, with any luck, you won’t be one forever.”

  “Not luck, Celo. Planning.”

  “Right. Strategy.” Celo met his gaze. “And using someone for your own purpose. Does she know where you’re going to lead her?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What would she think of your plan if you told her all of it?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Venero insisted. “It’s reciprocal. She helps me and I help her. In the end, we both get what we want.”

  “Really?”

  “This will serve the greater purpose…”

  “Your greater purpose.” Celo sighed and straightened. “Sometimes it’s not that hard to believe that you and Urbanus are twins.”

  Venero was insulted, but he had to acknowledge the thread of truth in that. He wasn’t being entirely fair to Gemma. If she’d still been able to become a dragon, he could have felt justified, but her resilience and beauty as a woman made him feel manipulative.

  Maybe even unfair.

  Which was why he didn’t say anything more.

  * * *

  Gemma had lost track of time when she finally smelled the wood fire.

  When she broke the surface of the stream under the shelter of a willow tree, its branches hanging over the stream like a bower, she smelled the fire. She was delighted at the sign that she might not be alone in this endless forest, but hesitated before emerging from the water.

  Would the person who had lit the fire help or hinder her?

  Would he (She? They?) just send her back to Urbanus, or somehow summon him to collect her?

  Gemma paused, uncertain who to trust. This might be Urbanus’ county or realm, and the people might be obliged to support his will.

  There might be repercussions if they didn’t.

  Felice didn’t share her caution. The pavofel wriggled and escaped her grip to leap to the bank. Felice shook thoroughly, scattering water in every direction, then fastidiously sniffed the air. She marched off, her wet tail waving like a bedraggled banner, and was so much her usual self that Gemma couldn’t imagine the creature had been touched by spelldust. She hauled herself out of the river, wrung out the maid’s dress as well as she could, shivered, sneezed, and followed Felice.

  Smoke was rising from a tidy little hut, one that blended so well with the forest that Gemma might not have discovered it without the scent of the fire. A young man stood outside of it, gutting some fish, and Felice hastened forward to invite herself to a feast. He was fair-haired and tanned, dressed simply, yet tall and trim. His beard was long and his clothing was rustic but clean.

  He started at the appearance of the pavofel, then smiled. “You’re a long way from home, pavofel,” he said, his voice quiet and pleasant. He cast a whole fish at Felice, who pounced upon it and set to devouring it. He lifted his gaze to Gemma then, and she had the definite sense that he wasn’t surprised to see her. “Hungry?” he asked, and cleaned another fish.

  “I am. Were you expecting company?” Gemma considered the number of fish he had
caught and again imagined that her arrival had been anticipated.

  “Your arrival is fortuitous,” he said, not really answering her question. “I had so much luck fishing this morning that I couldn’t stop.” He shrugged and turned to the hut. “You’ve saved me the task of smoking them.”

  Was that an invitation?

  If it was, should she accept?

  The scent of the Seed teased Gemma’s nostrils. “Is Urbanus here?” she asked.

  The man started, his alarm clear. “No!” He stared at her for a moment, then appeared to be both relieved and amused. He disappeared into the hut, chuckling quietly, but left the door ajar. Felice finished her fish, then strutted toward the door, obviously in pursuit of more. Gemma smelled the fish roasting and her belly growled.

  “Hurry up unless you like yours burned,” he said from within the hut.

  Gemma approached with caution. Why could she smell the Seed? She stood on the threshold, surveying the interior of the hut, then cast a long glance over the small clearing outside of it. All was still and it appeared that the man was her only companion. He was trying to hide a smile as he fed another fish to Felice.

  “Do I amuse you?” Gemma asked. Arousal unfurled in her belly and sent a welcome heat through her. She swallowed, wondering how the Seed could be in this place.

  “No, you remind me of someone. I won’t harm you. Come in.”

  Gemma entered the cabin, more than ready to defend herself. Her host was only a little taller than her and slim. She suspected that he had a wiry strength that could be a surprise. Still, she thought she could best him in a fair fight.

  “The question is whether there is ever a fair fight in Regalia,” he said and she was startled. “Yes, I can read your thoughts, and yes, that’s why I live alone in the wilderness. It is comparatively quiet here and I can think my own thoughts in peace.”

  “Comparatively?”

  “The forests are full of creatures. Not all of them are spies.” He offered her a ceramic plate, graced by a slice of bread and a grilled fish fillet. “Come sit by the fire and eat.”

  “Is that how you knew I was coming?”