by Nina Walker
“I’m sorry,” I say, speaking low to the drowned ghosty girl once I’m sure we’re alone again. “I don’t know what you want and I don’t know how to help you, but you’re dead. If you see a light or a tunnel or something, my advice is to go to it.”
She gapes at me, mouth open like a fish, bloodshot eyes wide and terrified.
Did she not know she was dead? Bile rises in my throat. There’s nothing I can do, so with a stab of guilt, I turn from her and hurry away, back in the direction of campus. Of one thing I’m certain—I really need to get a grip on my ghost problem if this college thing is going to work out. I sure hope I don’t end up in the loony-bin one day. I say it as a joke to myself and to Mom all the time, but I actually mean it. It’s my worst fear. Some days it feels inevitable that my future will involve padded rooms and straitjackets.
“I can help you,” a woman steps out from a shadowy storefront. I squeak and stumble, nearly jumping out of my own skin.
I hold up a hand. “Holy Hannah, you scared the bejesus out of me!”
Her smile is playful, her pale blue eyes framed by deep wrinkles and twinkling in their intensity. Her white hair is dreadlocked and even though she’s clearly pushing old age, the look works well for her. A knobby finger points up to the name scrolled across the building: The Flowering Chakra.
“Oh, no thanks.” I stop her right there, my heart sinking.
“I think you and I could help each other, actually.”
Her tone is genuine, but I quickly shake my head and continue on my way. I want to look back, want to give this lady a shot, whatever she’s offering, but I know better. Believe me when I say, I’ve been there and done that. Nothing and nobody can help me, especially not the metaphysical crackpots of the world. Most of them claim to see spirits too, and while that may be true for some, it’s never close to what I experience on the daily when it comes to the spirit realm.
These people always think they know, always think they can help me.
They can’t.
“Come back,” she calls out, her voice as thick as slow-churned butter, and I want to believe her so badly it hurts. It’s the familiar ache of old disappointments all lined up in a row, and I hate it. “Come back, soon, my dear. I really do know how to help someone like you.”
I shake my head. If only it were that easy.
4
Khali
The entire dragon kingdom is waiting for my eighteenth birthday. Sometimes it feels as if the whole world is waiting for me to come of age so I can be married off. The pressure of every passing day adds another drop of anxiety to an already boisterous ocean. I only have four months left, and Bram isn’t making this easier. Sometimes, I think I’ll drown underneath the weight.
I narrow my eyes at him. Inside, I’m that ocean storm, but outside, I’m a calm surface. Practiced. Perfect.
“You’ve had two years to question me about your brother’s exile and yet you never said a single word,” I quip. “Why the sudden interest?”
“It isn’t sudden,” he replies casually. “I never believed he would have engaged in an inappropriate relationship with you.”
Guilt racks my body and I sit up straighter. “Well, he did and it’s over.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He eyes Faros for a long second, as if measuring how much she can be trusted. As my chaperone and ladies maid, she’s with me nearly all of the time and has been for years. She knows almost everything about me. But even she doesn’t know the specifics of how and why I got the oldest prince exiled.
“There’s nothing you can say in front of me that you can’t say in front of Faros,” I retort. “She is family. I trust her with my life.”
“How lucky for you to trust family so implicitly,” he says dryly. “But I wonder if she values the princes’ lives above yours. We still don’t know who told my father about your alleged tryst with my brother two years ago.”
Faros raises her hand to her mouth. “I would never do such a thing.” Her tone is shocked, and I believe her.
“Get to the point, Bram,” I snap. “Whatever you want to say, say it. This conversation is growing tiresome.”
His eyes lock me down. He’s never held my gaze for so long and it’s unnerving. I haven’t had the opportunity to measure how green his eyes are until now. They remind me of a rainy spring that won’t seem to end. He runs a hand along his jaw, considering. “What would you do to get my brother back?”
Dark mistrust and bright hope battle through my veins. “Don’t speak of the impossible,” I reply. “He’s gone. And if he returns, he’ll be killed.”
“Maybe…”
“No, not maybe. It’s a fact.”
“Before he left, he said he had initiated the kiss. But I find that odd. What I’m trying to figure out is if he actually liked you back, because it was painfully obvious how much you wanted him. I believe you kissed him, and I want to know why he didn’t just say that.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” I lean back into the padding of my chair, wishing it could swallow me whole. Blood rushes to my cheeks, but I refuse to break eye contact, even if I’m powerless to hide my shame.
“I think I do.” He leans back as well, studying me. “I know you had harbored a secret crush on my brother for years, but he never returned your advances as far as I could tell. And yet, he never denied kissing you, something forbidden, something he knew would get him sent into exile. Why would he cover for your blunder? Did he want to leave the kingdom?”
My throat turns to ice, freezing the words within.
“He was the most powerful of the princes,” Bram continues. “He loved it here, excelled at court politics and would have been a formidable leader and war hero. Besides that, everyone knew he was my father’s favorite. He was destined to be crowned our next King.”
“Perhaps.” My voice is steady but my nerves are a riot.
“And you would have been his queen. You would have gotten the prince you desired since your girlhood.”
That part is true, but I swallow my response.
“But the two of you ruined it. I want to know what happened and why.”
“I am not speaking to you on this matter. It’s none of your business.” I gather my dress while still holding onto A Midsummer Night’s Dream and stand, rushing toward the door. Guilt nips at my heels, but I promised more than just myself that I wouldn’t tell anyone and I won’t break that promise, especially not for someone as frustrating and sure of himself as Bram.
“Now you only have three brothers left to vie for your bed, but of course you and I both know I’m about as likely to be crowned king as a horse,” Bram calls after me. “So why keep secrets from me, Khali Elliot?”
Faros stands at my side but I don’t dare to look at her. My shaking hands press against the cool wood of the door. Outside, children’s laughter echoes down the corridor. Careless and free.
“I’m suddenly not feeling well,” I say over my shoulder. “I apologize, but our meeting must be cut short. I hope to see you at the ball tomorrow night, Your Highness.” I end the conversation and burst into the hallway, my heart hammering against my ribcage.
“Do save me a dance!” Bram’s mocking words reverberate through the open door. Faros slams it shut.
I growl and grind my foot into the stone floor. My dragon raises her head within me, eager to take out the frustration in our favorite way, but I can’t shift without permission. And I never have permission. My dragon may be the reason I’m here, but she’s just as caged as I am.
Faros and I hurry back to my chambers and all the while, Bram’s words ravage my thoughts. He was right about too many things. I did have a crush on his older brother and I do have a secret about what happened that night. Just thinking about how it unfolded sends my heart twisting and my jaw clenching so tight that pain shoots through the bone and into my teeth. I take a steadying breath and count to ten. Just because Bram’s a keen observer and the smartest of the princes do
esn’t mean I’ll ever confess the truth. Not to him. Not to anyone.
The clawing fingers of the corset dig into my skin. I straighten my spine like a puppet on a string, but it doesn’t help the pain. I take a breath, double check that my gown is in immaculate condition, and slip into the ballroom. Tumultuous thoughts of what could have been slip in with me. Drat! I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Bram’s accusations since he laid them out yesterday. This party had better be a good one.
My gaze travels over the members of the Court, and I click my tongue. The disparity of wealth among Blessed and Non-Blessed families is becoming more and more noticeable, from the degree of fine clothing, to the level of desperation behind masked expressions. Had I not been born with my peculiar set of eyes, I wouldn’t even be here. I’d most likely be starving in the backwater village on the edge of nowhere. We may have all descended from dragons, but not everyone in the Kingdom of Drakenon is actually Dragon Blessed and can shift. Furthermore, it’s only my two colored eyes that clued others into my elemental powers, that marked me as something more.
“Princess, there you are.” Silas appears, dipping in close. His voice is as smooth as the black silk tie around his neck. “I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to get the first dance.”
I smile calmly and he takes me into his sturdy arms, twirling me around the ballroom in a familiar waltz. I’m reminded of growing up with the brothers and learning this exact dance during our hours upon hours of painstaking lessons. Silas didn’t enjoy dancing then, but he certainly seems to be enjoying himself now. Everyone watches us. He watches me. Is it because my birthday is approaching that his indigo eyes glow with pride? And with something else—something hard to place. Confidence, perhaps? No, not confidence. Determination.
King Titus and Queen Brysta preside over the party in their raised thrones but seem to care little for the guests below. The monarchs draw in the most ambitious among us. Several Dukes and Duchesses flit around the pair like moths to the flame, keeping the royal pair busy with flattery and politics. My mother is among the group, of course. She hasn’t looked my way yet but I know she will soon. Her dark tresses are piled on her head in complete perfection. It’s only a matter of time before she glides over to remind me of our earlier conversation about Silas. At that thought, he tugs me in closer.
“You look radiant tonight,” he says, his gaze running over my face and then landing playfully on my own. “I’ll never get over how beautiful and unique your eyes are, Khali. Truly extraordinary.”
Wow. I’m used to his flattery but he’s really going for it tonight.
I scoff and raise a brow. “Your mother has the same eyes. It’s not that unique.”
He shakes his head. “But they are. I love my mother, but you, you are vastly different from her.” His eyes flick to my lips and I glare and stiffen.
“You know the rules,” I say sharply. “You know them better than anyone.”
He only smiles. It’s all a game. Silas is far too ambitious to be tempted to kiss me now. I can only assume it’s the other way around. He wants to be the one to tempt me, wants me to want him. Ultimately, the King will decide which one of the brothers I’m to wed after I turn eighteen, but it will be easier to convince his father if the court is talking of how much I longed for his lips during the Autumn Equinox ball. I stiffen, because while I consider Silas a friend, I’m not charmed by his ambition. And while I do find him attractive, it’s the kind of attractiveness that comes with a bite.
“May I cut in?” Owen’s cheerful voice is that of pure salvation. He swoops in before Silas can argue otherwise and steers the two of us in the opposite direction. I give Silas an apologetic look as I go, but inside, I feel nothing but pure relief. Silas keeps his mouth in a thin line, his eyes zeroed in, his jaw tight. He never looks away.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Owen.
Owen just laughs, his glorious blue eyes brightening. He never takes any of this seriously. It’s all a big game to him, too. But he’s not playing to win; he’s playing to enjoy himself. Between him and his two brothers, I’d rather marry Owen in a heartbeat. He is my best friend, afterall. Though deep down, I know it will be Silas. The Court loves Silas. His father dotes on him. Silas’s ambition is unmatched, and because of that, he’s best suited for the job of future king. My stomach clenches into a ball of nails knowing what that will mean for me.
“How many here do you think can shift?” I ask, trying to take my mind off of Owen’s twin. We turn to take in the guests. The ballroom is packed fuller than normal for one of these parties. They flutter around like desperate moths to a flame, each one seeking to be part of the light. But it’s the ones who are Dragon Blessed who were born to burn brightest. I wonder if some of them are part of the dragon army I saw training earlier. What would I give to be one of them?
Owen shrugs, running a confident hand along his suit jacket. “Maybe half.”
I bite my lip and nod. That’s what I thought, too. To be a dragon and not permitted to shift openly, like myself, is a cruel way to live. Does Queen Brysta hate it as much as I do? Does she long to break free and fly, to be her true self? If she does, she’s never shown it in my presence. Maybe it would have been better to have been born without the ability to shift, like Bram.
“Do you ever find it strange that we’re called the Blessed because we’re simply the ones who can shift into dragon form?”
Owen shoots me an odd look. “Well, it’s a blessing to the kingdom, isn’t it? Dragons can do incredible damage to any invading armies. It’s why we’ve stood strong for as long as we have.”
“I guess so,” I say. What I don’t say, is that I don’t feel so blessed. The closer I get to my birthday, the closer I get to having a husband thrust upon me and the less fortunate I feel. My job here is to become queen and produce elemental Dragon Blessed heirs. I’m lucky to have all four elements. Rare. So rare, they can’t risk losing me.
I think of how easy it would be to fall in love with him when I glance up at Owen’s deep blue eyes that fit his ability so well. Prince Owen Hydros Brightcaster. His element is water and his personality is as fluid, even if he is my rock. Like water, he can be gentle and calm, or wild and unpredictable, and underneath the surface, his personality runs deep.
Prince Silas Skylen Brightcaster is Owen’s twin, though the two don’t match in any way. Silas possesses the elemental magic of sky and is a formidable warrior. Not only can he cause the winds to blow so hard that they lift entire buildings, he can conjure storms and wield lightning to strike his opponents dead where they stand. I haven’t seen it with my own eyes, but I’ve heard the stories brought back from the battlefield over the years. And I’ve seen what his father can do, how his moods direct the weather around the castle. A chill skitters down my spine.
I peer around the room for Bram but I doubt he’s here. He rarely comes to these things, and nobody cares. He probably wasn’t serious about dancing with me, thank the Gods. Bram doesn’t dance. In fact, he doesn’t do much of anything besides study and scowl and study some more. But Prince Bram Oaken Brightcaster never shifted, so nobody bothers him about dancing at these things, or even attending. Had the magic not skipped him, he would’ve been able to manipulate earth. He could have caused the ground to shake and rise, could have caused entire crops to flourish or crumble and die. And he would be here at this ball with his brothers, asking for his turn to dance with the future queen. I find it strange that Bram’s eyes are still bright emerald to match his element, like his brothers’ eyes match their own gifts. Sometimes that’s what happens, though. Sometimes, entire families can be dragon shifters, their bloodlines thick as chainmail, save for one lone outcast, one weak link.
Life isn’t always kind.
But I don’t feel too bad for Bram. He’s still a Brightcaster Prince and still enjoys the luxuries that come with the title. All that freedom with none of the responsibility. No, I don’t feel bad for him at all.
“What is going on in
that pretty little head of yours?” Owen asks. We’ve stopped dancing and have found ourselves outside on the terrace. The cool night washes over me, softening my dark mood. We lean side by side against the balcony, inches apart. Music and party guests float in and out. The night is a blanket of darkness and stars, our lands reaching far, far beyond what I can see. My future kingdom.
An endless prison.
I turn to Owen and search his concerned expression, looking for a sign of some sort of go-ahead. Should I tell him about Bram’s questioning? As my closest friend, surely he’d understand. But then again, what if it made him question me further? Question our friendship? In the end, I make up nonsense about a tiff with my mother and we fall into companionable silence. He accepts my story without question. Lady Alivia Elliot and I are always at odds and my father is rarely around to buffer our spats.
Pesky thoughts creep back into my mind—the consuming ones about the eldest royal brother, the man we never speak of. His eyes were so different from any of his younger brothers. They were black as coal, which makes sense considering he was the strongest fire elemental dragon in generations and more dangerous than all of his brothers combined. He would have been the king we all needed, the one who would’ve ensured Drakenon’s safety and prosperity for generations.
I peer over the glittering city into the dark horizon and wonder where he is, knowing he’s utterly unreachable. Maybe even dead. It’s my fault. Because of me, Dean Ashton Brightcaster will never be the king of anything.
5
Hazel
Cora and Macy’s high-heels clack on the sidewalk as we head across campus toward the first party of our college careers. Their bare arms are laced through mine, which is actually quite appropriate considering how badly I’m struggling to walk in this dress and the accompanying high heels. Is it luck that Cora and I are both a size seven shoe and I could borrow a pair from her, or that Macy and I are both a size six dress? They would say yes. I would not.
