Eight Simple Rules for Dating a Dragon

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  He reached the top of the stairs and spotted the king trudging up the steps, followed by two of his personal guard. Behind them, the secretary, Lord Romak, shot Silas an annoyed look.

  “Aleksi,” he whispered. “When I talk to His Majesty, make sure Romak isn’t close enough to hear us.”

  “Understood,” Aleksi replied.

  While they waited at the top of the stairs, Silas took the opportunity to observe his older brother. In the last two years, the king’s black hair had acquired some gray at the temples. New wrinkles on his brow and dark circles beneath his eyes made him look both tired and stressed.

  Silas grew tense, recalling the rumors that Petras might also be succumbing to madness. It couldn’t be true, though. He refused to believe it, just like he refused to believe in the curse.

  “Your Majesty.” Silas bowed as the king reached the landing.

  Petras regarded him with an expression that was both affectionate and annoyed. “Come with me.” He glanced back at Romak. “You may retire for the evening.”

  A hint of anger flickered over the secretary’s face before he pasted a smile on his face and bowed. “Your Majesty is most gracious.”

  While Silas accompanied Petras down the hallway, he glanced back to make sure Aleksi was herding the secretary down the stairs. Then he leaned in close and whispered, “I don’t trust Romak. You should get rid of him.”

  Petras shook his head. “He hasn’t done anything to give me cause.”

  “That you know of. Have you noticed the number of rings he’s wearing? Are you paying him that well?”

  Petras’s mouth thinned with irritation. “I am aware of what’s going on around me. I’ve asked Karlan to keep an eye on Romak. We haven’t found him taking any bribes or dipping into the royal treasury.”

  “Then where is his wealth coming from?”

  “I’ll figure it out.” Petras heaved a sigh as he opened the door to his private sitting room. “This is the way it is here. The courtiers are constantly jockeying for more wealth and power. The only one I can really trust is Karlan.”

  “And me.” Silas entered the dark room, lit only by a fire in the hearth. “I will always have your back.”

  “I know that.” Petras closed the door, leaving his two guards in the hallway. “But frankly, you’re not supposed to be here. Romak has been trying to convince me that you’ve abandoned your post for the sole purpose of interfering with my business.”

  “The damned weasel.”

  “He has a point.” Petras lit a long stick of kindling in the fireplace, then used it to light the candles on the mantel. “You are interfering.”

  Silas scoffed. “How could I not? Do I have to tell you the danger you put the country in today?”

  With an angry flick of his wrist, Petras tossed the stick into the fire. “Do I have to tell you the danger of going against my wishes?”

  Silas gave him an exasperated look. “Do you seriously want a war with Eberon and Tourin? You put me in charge of protecting our country, and that’s what I’m doing. We can’t afford to fight three countries at once. Our army is depleted enough.”

  Petras added another log to the fire. “We have plenty of money. Hire more soldiers.”

  “From where?” Silas gritted his teeth. “We’ve already taken women into the army. Do you want to risk the children next?”

  Petras straightened with a worried look. “Surely, it’s not that bad.”

  “It is bad,” Silas ground out. “We’ve been officially at war with Woodwyn for two years now. Unofficially, we have a long history of skirmishes with all of our neighbors. We can’t afford to lose any more people. That’s why we need peace with Eberon and Tourin. And to do that, I have to return the princess tomorrow.”

  Petras hissed in a breath. “The queen requested a princess.”

  “Dammit.” Silas walked away a few steps while he attempted to tamp down his frustration. “Taking the girl was wrong, Petras. You can’t traumatize children and families like that.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Petras yelled. “But what am I supposed to do when my wife is crying every day and threatening to throw herself off the highest tower? I have to give her a reason to live! I’m losing her, Silas!”

  A pain ripped through Silas when he realized how much his brother and sister-in-law were suffering. “It’ll get better. I’ll do whatever I can to help her.”

  “You don’t live here.” Petras’s eyes glistened with tears. “You haven’t had to watch her slip further away every day. Or witness her mind slowly deteriorating. I’m afraid she’ll end up killing herself like our mother did.”

  “Petras.” Silas pulled his brother into an embrace. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix things. Somehow.”

  With a scoff, Petras took him by the shoulders and moved him back. “You will fix things? Do you have any idea how it makes me feel to have a younger brother who thinks he has to clean up after me?”

  “I don’t mean it that way.”

  “But that’s what you’re doing.” Petras squeezed his shoulders in a tight grip. “Are you going to defy me by returning the girl tomorrow?”

  Silas swallowed hard. “By the Light, brother. Don’t ever doubt my loyalty.”

  Petras regarded him sadly. “Are you returning her?”

  “What choice do I have? It’s the only way to avoid war.”

  “Since when is a general afraid of war?”

  Silas snorted. “It’s not fear. It’s honesty. I’m facing the facts, Petras. Our country is dying from within.”

  “Don’t say that!” Petras shoved him back.

  “It’s true.” Silas took a deep breath. “Our first priority has to be saving ourselves. So I strongly urge you to end the war with Woodwyn.”

  “No.”

  “There is no point to it, Petras. Nothing is ever gained, and any loss of life becomes more of a disaster for our country. We should send an envoy to negotiate.”

  “Absolutely not.” Petras shook his head. “The last time we sent an envoy, he never came back. The damned elves must have killed him.”

  Silas sighed. That had been Dimitri’s uncle. “Lord Tolenko went over twenty years ago. It’s time for us to try again.”

  Petras turned to gaze at the fire.

  Silas cleared his throat. “When I return the princess tomorrow, I might get to see Sorcha.”

  Petras glanced back. “Sorcha?”

  “She grew up with a group of adopted sisters on the Isle of Moon. The elfin woman who came with the princess is one of the sisters. And the current queens of Eberon and Tourin are also sisters. So there’s a good chance Sorcha will be with Queen Luciana when I return the daughter.”

  Petras remained quiet for a while as if lost in thought. “Then she’s had a good life?”

  “I believe so.”

  Petras frowned. “Don’t bring her back here. She needs to stay away from the curse.”

  Silas sighed. If he and Gwennore could do away with the so-called curse, it might be safe for Sorcha to finally return to her real family.

  Petras turned back to gaze into the fire. “All of our problems go back to the curse.”

  Or people’s belief in the so-called curse, Silas thought.

  “For more than four centuries, it affected only a few members of the royal family, but in the last two generations, it has become so much worse.” Petras sighed. “The entire population is suffering now.”

  “We can’t be sure the curse is responsible for—”

  “Of course it is! We lost two of our siblings and our mother. I’ve lost five children and I’m in danger of losing my wife. This damned curse must come to an end.” Petras slanted a wary look at him. “I found a way to get rid of it.”

  “What?” Silas stepped closer. “How?”

  Petras turned back toward the fire, and the light flickered over his face, causing eerie shadows. “It’s a secret.” A small smile lingered on his mouth. “After five hundred years, we will finally be free
.”

  “How?”

  Petras’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “If I tell you, you must keep it secret.”

  Silas leaned close. “You have my word.”

  Petras lowered his voice to a whisper. “It’s Fafnir.”

  “Faf—” Silas straightened with a jerk. “From the Ancient Ones? He was killed five hundred years ago.”

  “He’s still alive,” Petras insisted. “You know the Ancient Ones could live for hundreds of years.”

  “That may be true, but they’re all dead now.”

  “Fafnir survived.” Petras’s eyes glittered in the flickering firelight. “And since he’s all alone, he wants to make peace with us. He said he would take away the curse. I only have to do what he tells me to.”

  A sliver of apprehension crept down Silas’s spine. “What is he telling you to do?”

  Petras looked back at the fire, his mouth shut.

  Silas grew more tense. “How often do you talk to him?”

  “Several times a week. I’ve been meeting him at the Sacred Well.”

  “For how long?”

  Petras shrugged. “Just over a year.”

  “And now you tell me?” Silas frowned. “So he suddenly appeared about a year ago? After he was gone for five hundred years?”

  “Are you doubting me?”

  “Not you.” While Silas believed it was possible that his brother was talking to a dragon, he had to wonder if it was actually Fafnir. Any dragon could say he was an Ancient One and try to use that status to manipulate the king.

  “Fafnir is real,” Petras grumbled. “He was injured in the final battle, so he went into hibernation for a long time to recover.”

  Five hundred years? Silas drew in a deep breath. “I need to meet this Fafnir.”

  Petras shook his head. “He doesn’t want anyone else to know about him. There would be some who would want to kill him. So not a word to anyone, understand? Fafnir is our best chance of getting rid of the curse.”

  “What if the curse isn’t real? And he’s just using—”

  “Stop it!” Petras gave him an incredulous look. “How can you even say that? How many loved ones do you have to lose before you accept the truth?”

  Silas gritted his teeth. Just because the pain was real, it didn’t mean the curse was, too. “What exactly is this Fafnir telling you to do?”

  “He wants to defeat Woodwyn.”

  Silas scoffed. “Why? What would he gain from it? And how would that get rid of the so-called curse?”

  “He also wants to take over Tourin.”

  “What? No, absolutely not.”

  Petras gave him a stern look. “You work for me, Silas. Don’t forget that.”

  Silas walked away a few steps with his mind reeling. A war on two different fronts? Three fronts, most probably, because the minute he attacked Tourin, Eberon would enter the war as Tourin’s ally. This would be disastrous for Norveshka. A terrible suspicion crept into his thoughts. What if this dragon, whoever he might be, was using the king to destroy the country?

  “I’ll get rid of the curse,” Petras insisted. “And then Freya will get well, and we’ll have more children. Our fellow countrymen will be able to have more children. Norveshka will be healed once and for all.”

  “I want that, too, but—”

  “Then don’t argue with me. When Fafnir tells us what to do, we must do as he says. And then he will lift the curse that the Ancient Ones put on us.”

  Silas swallowed hard. He and Gwennore would have to work quickly to prove the curse wasn’t real. He also needed to see if people were disappearing like Gwennore had said. And he needed to investigate this dragon who was giving orders to the king. “Before I agree to follow orders from Fafnir, I must speak to him.”

  “Impossible. He will talk only to me.”

  The sliver of apprehension slithered down Silas’s spine once again. “Are you the only one who has seen Fafnir?”

  When Petras nodded, Silas hissed in a shaky breath. He only had his brother’s word that this Fafnir was real. What were the chances that an Ancient One had survived five hundred years in secret?

  Silas glanced at the king and silently cringed at the wild, unfocused gleam in his eyes.

  Dammit to hell. Was Petras going mad, too?

  * * *

  Gwennore winced. Now her rump was as sore as her back. And her arms were tired from supporting Eviana.

  It was the next morning and they’d been traveling for about half an hour on horseback, following the Norva River. She had learned how to ride during her stay at Ebton Palace, but she wasn’t accustomed to trips as long as this.

  The night before had been difficult. Eviana had missed her mother so much that she’d started crying. Gwennore had let the little girl share her bed in the nanny’s room, but they’d only slept about an hour before Nissa had arrived before dawn to help them get ready to leave. The servant had laundered their clothes from the day before and given them a pillowcase to store the three dolls Eviana had selected as her birthday present.

  When they had arrived in the courtyard, the general had offered to carry Eviana on his horse, but Gwennore had thought it best to keep the girl with her. After all, the Norva River was close by, so it should be a short ride to the boat.

  “The river here is too rocky and shallow for a boat,” the general had explained. “We’ll have to ride for a while.” When he reached for Eviana, the little girl had latched onto Gwennore, refusing to let go.

  “She’s a little grumpy from lack of sleep,” Gwennore had admitted. “I had better hold her for a while.”

  General Dravenko had frowned. “Fine. But when you get tired, let me know.”

  Before they had even finished passing through the small hamlet of Dreshka, Eviana had fallen fast asleep. At first, Gwennore had thoroughly enjoyed the journey, for she’d never seen a Norveshki village close up before. And once they had journeyed into the nearby countryside, a glorious sunrise had revealed some of the most beautiful scenery she’d ever seen. Forested hillsides and rocky cliffs flanked the winding river, and the air was cool and scented with the crisp fragrance of evergreens.

  For a moment she thought she heard the whisper of voices in the distance. Puff? She glanced up at the sky but couldn’t spot any dragons.

  It was a shame Puff couldn’t return her and Eviana. Flying with him was certainly more pleasant than riding a long distance on horseback. Now that they were half an hour into the trip, her rump was starting to ache, along with her arms that were supporting the weight of the girl’s drooping body.

  To take her mind off her discomfort, she decided to study General Dravenko, who was riding in front of her. He was wearing a different uniform today. It was still green and brown, but his breeches were made of cool linen instead of leather. A definite improvement, she thought, recalling the reading she’d taken on him the day before. The man had trouble with too much heat. Good goddesses, don’t think about his groin.

  She lifted her gaze to his head. His shoulder-length black hair stirred in the breeze that wafted through the valley. It was thick and wavy, the ends curling. Would it be as soft as it looked? Don’t think about touching him.

  There was a sheathed sword on his back. It looked long and heavy, and she wondered if its weight ever bothered him. Probably not. His shoulders were so broad. His back so strong. He was a man accustomed to carrying the burden of leadership. Intelligent, strong, and too handsome for his own good. Don’t think about that.

  How was she going to work with him? Especially when the scoundrel was going to let everyone think they were lovers.

  He turned his head to the side, and she stifled a sigh at the sight of his gorgeous profile. Stop thinking about him.

  Unfortunately, without him to distract her, all she could think about was her aching arms. How could a three-year-old be so heavy?

  He moved his horse to the edge of the path and halted. Glancing back, he motioned for her to approach.

  She re
ined her horse to a stop beside him. “Is something wrong?” She raised her voice over the sound of the rushing river.

  He maneuvered his horse closer till his leg brushed against hers.

  Her heart pounded as he edged even closer, his thigh now pressed against hers. “What are you doing?”

  “Shh. You’ll wake her up.” His voice was so low, she could barely hear him. “I’ll take her.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She snorted. The man shouldn’t assume he knew how she felt. Even if he was right.

  “We’ll be entering a canyon soon, and the path will become steep and narrow. Let me take her. For safety’s sake.” He reached for the child.

  As the back of his hand grazed against Gwennore’s ribs, she sucked in a breath. A fluttering feeling started in her stomach and inched up to her chest.

  Silently, she watched as he settled the sleeping girl on his lap. The fluttering feeling crept into her heart, and she inhaled, suddenly realizing that she’d been holding her breath. This man was affecting her too much. But how amazing that a warrior like him could also be so gentle. He would make a wonderful father.

  His gaze lifted to her eyes, and her heart grew still. Time seemed to stretch out as she lost herself in the glittering green of his eyes. Suddenly, somehow, it felt like she’d known this man more than a day. She’d always known him. She’d been born knowing him. She’d only been waiting for him to make his appearance.

  A glint of gold flickered in his eyes, then he blinked and looked away. His chest expanded as he took a deep breath, and Gwennore also looked away, suddenly feeling embarrassed. What on Aerthlan had come over her?

  Behind them, Aleksi cleared his throat.

  “We should be going,” General Dravenko said quietly as he urged his horse to take the lead.

  They rode for another half an hour, then the trail led them into a narrow canyon that the river had carved through a mountain. The sound of rushing water became so loud that it drowned out all other noises. The light dimmed as the increasing shade cast them into a cool and eerie twilight. They were forced to go in single file, the general taking the lead and the young captain, Aleksi, riding behind Gwennore. After seeing them off, Dimitri had stayed behind at Draven Castle. She assumed he was exhausted after guarding the nursery all night.