by Haley Ryan
“Nope,” I told him, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt about being left alone with two giant guys who were, in most ways, complete strangers. “Well, I do, technically, but it’s at home, and I don’t have a license. I walked. And rode the streetcar.”
They followed me tamely to the stop and waited silently for the next available car, while I wondered what on earth I was supposed to say or whether they were hoping I would just not say anything. After all, this had to be almost as weird for them as it was for me.
Faris hadn’t seemed completely happy about sending me off with them either, but he couldn’t complain too loudly, considering that the whole mess was his own fault. If he hadn’t called my family and started asking too many questions, they never would have come looking for me or gotten a giant draconian complex about protecting me from dangers both real and imagined.
Besides, Faris was paranoid enough that I suspected he would be assigning one of his people to watch my house tonight—just in case. Yes, Faris had “people.” I still wasn’t sure whether he had them in the same way mob bosses had “people,” but I was fairly certain Faris’s activities were at least mostly legal. Mostly.
“So,” I said, when the silence finally got to me, “how did you all travel here? Don’t tell me you flew all the way from…”
Oops. I was about to be embarrassed again, because I had literally no idea where the dragon enclave was located except that it was on the West Coast somewhere.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Declan said, his voice calm and somehow soothing. He’d gone and read my mind again, or at least my emotions, and I honestly wasn’t sure yet how I felt about the fact that he could do that.
Looking up at the youngest of my newfound brothers, I studied his face, desperate to know what he was thinking. I also couldn't help but wonder whether anyone looking at us together would even guess we were related.
Declan wasn’t the tallest of the three—that honor went to Ryker, at what I would guess was around six feet six inches, all of it well-honed muscle—but he was tall enough. Probably six foot two, which left him a solid foot taller than my own diminutive size.
His hair was auburn, while mine was more of a coppery brown, and his skin lightly tanned, where mine was more pale and freckled. Declan was arrestingly handsome—all of them were—but I thought his jawline seemed softer than Ryker's or Callum's. The lines around his eyes were more evident, too, as though perhaps he smiled more.
Or maybe he simply knew better how to put people at ease.
“Pretty sure I’m going to be embarrassed anyway,” I grumbled.
Ryker chuckled on my other side, but I ignored him for the moment.
“I’ve never had brothers before, so I don’t know what to say around you, and I really don’t know the first thing about dragons—how they live, what they do for fun, how the court works, what they call each other, any of it. So you’ll have to be patient with me while I figure out stuff that you probably knew by the time you were five.”
“Our enclave is located in Oregon,” Ryker told me, a smile still lurking at the corner of his mouth. “And we flew, but not in the way you’re thinking. The queen has a private jet that she uses when traveling outside of the surrounding area.”
Oh. Guess I should have thought of that.
Fortunately, my middle brother didn’t seem to be actively making fun of me for not knowing. At least, I didn’t think he was. He was easily the most difficult of the three for me to read, and the one I suspected was most likely to end up being kicked in the shins before this was over.
“And don’t worry about us. We’ve never really had a sister before either.” He fell silent for a moment, probably recalling—as I was—that they’d once had a sister for a short time, back when I was only an infant. I suspected they would have been old enough to remember, but I was too flustered to ask, especially of Ryker.
Besides being larger, he was also the more obviously pretty of the two. His hair was spiky, tousled perfection, his amber eyes were framed with long silky lashes, and his mouth belonged more on a male model than an irritating dragon. Plus, he always seemed to be on the verge of either laughing or saying something sarcastic.
I needed to distract myself before they overwhelmed me again.
“I hope you won’t mind,” I blurted out, “but my house is pretty small. The quarters will be cramped until we figure out how this is all going to work, with you and…”
Oh, good grief. I hadn’t even thought about how they were going to react to Hugh. Fortunately, the gargoyle didn’t sleep inside the house, or I imagined they would lose their tiny little dragon minds.
“So,” I hedged, as we got onto the mostly empty streetcar and took seats, “I should warn you that I have a… a friend, who sort of lives with me.”
“A friend?” Declan asked.
“Sort of?” One of Ryker’s eyebrows went up.
Apparently, talking to older brothers was like juggling hand grenades.
“He’s a gargoyle,” I explained. “He helps me take care of the store, but he lives on the front porch. Mostly he terrorizes the customers and makes sure the books stay sorted. It’s weird, but for now, it’s working. At least it will be once I convince him to wear clothes.”
And that was when both of them fixed me with slightly more pointed gazes, and I realized I probably should have kept my mouth shut and let them find out about Hugh for themselves.
“You know what, never mind,” I said, hunching my shoulders and wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the early spring chill. It was cold on the streetcar, and I missed my hoodie. “You’ll see what I mean when we get there.”
They obviously noticed my discomfort because Ryker immediately stripped off his rather fabulous leather jacket and draped it over my shoulders. Naturally, it was warm and soft and smelled completely amazing. If these guys weren’t my brothers, I would probably find them ridiculously attractive.
As it was, the whole situation was, well, ridiculous. How could I have agreed to let these two live with me while I thought things through? There was no way this was going to end in anything but disaster.
We rode to my stop in silence, after which they followed me through the darkened streets to the quaint pink-and-black house that I called home.
I could see them assessing it as we went up the back stairs to the second level entrance, and tried to ignore the pang that insisted they were probably appalled by the way I lived. They were dragon royalty, and I was… just a girl who ran a bookstore.
I reminded myself stubbornly that, according to them, I was royalty too. Sadly, the thought didn’t make me feel any better—I didn’t exactly live like a princess.
The tiny apartment over the store had a combined kitchen and living room, one bathroom, and two cramped bedrooms. That was it. We hadn’t renovated anything since we moved in, and almost everything in it had come from a thrift store.
But I loved my home, and I was proud of it. I loved the chipped pottery dishes, the sagging couch Chicken used as a scratching post, and the uneven table with mismatched chairs where I ate my breakfast every morning. I was happy with the life I’d built here, especially now that I had friends, regular customers who depended on me, and the sometimes demanding companionship of Chicken and Waffles, who had eventually decided to call a truce and share the house peacefully. I couldn’t leave all this behind just because my family had magically appeared and didn’t want to kill me after all.
Could I?
I put my key into the lock and was momentarily discomfited when the handle turned easily, proving it hadn’t been locked in the first place. I was sure I’d locked it when I left, so had Hugh gone out for some reason? He hadn’t been on the front porch. And now that the door was open, I could hear the astringent tones of the dowager countess proceeding from my ancient TV.
No, he was definitely home. I pushed open the door and entered the kitchen to see Hugh sitting bolt upright on the couch, wearing my fluffy purple bath
robe and stroking Chicken, who was sprawled on Hugh’s lap in all his naked Sphynx glory.
There was a picture I wouldn’t be able to forget any time soon.
But they weren’t alone. On the other end of the couch, staring at the TV with unwavering fascination, was a man—or perhaps I should say a fae. His skin was dark gray, his hair silver, and he wore elaborate black armor that probably shouldn’t have put in an appearance outside an enclave or a renaissance faire.
For a moment, my heart leaped—Rath had finally returned.
But no. When the male fae turned to face me and jumped to his feet, I realized with an unpleasant jolt that I’d never seen him before in my life.
It took about half a second for my brothers to place themselves between me and my unwelcome visitor, and about six or seven seconds for me to elbow my way past them. I glared at Hugh, who finally paused Downton Abbey long enough to respond to our entrance with an irritated scowl.
“Do you require something?” he asked, looking at my brothers as though they were merely a mild annoyance. “The store is closed until tomorrow.”
I blinked at him. “Um, Hugh, we don’t let customers follow us up the back stairs. And we definitely don’t let strangers into the apartment.” I tried not to feel like a hypocrite as I considered all of the times I’d done just that in the past few months. “Now, do you mind telling me who your visitor is, and what, exactly, you’re doing in my bathrobe?”
He looked at me with evident disgust. “I have remained here to watch over the shop, as you requested. When the visitor arrived, I made an effort to clothe myself in a similar fashion to a picture on one of the websites you provided for me. I invited him in and made tea, according to your Earth customs, and then allowed him to partake in my entertainment. If there is more you wish me to do, you must advise me of the relevant traditions for casual interactions between humans and fae.”
Oh dear heavens.
A dragon, a gargoyle, and a fae walk into a bookstore…
I was going to have to think fast, before this became more bloodbath than bad joke.
“Okie dokie then. Hugh, thank you for being a good host. Would you mind excusing us and hanging out on your porch for a while until our visitor is gone?”
He grumbled at me, but picked up Chicken and got to his feet. Then, before I could stop him, he stripped off my robe and exited the room, still carrying Chicken and muttering under his breath, while wearing nothing but his gargoyle draperies.
I heard a strangled noise from beside me but chose to ignore it.
Instead, I distanced myself from my brothers by another step and addressed the visitor as politely as I could manage.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”
He drew himself up and bowed, with an excessively dramatic flourish. “I am Lorne, and I bring you greetings from the court of His Majesty, Dathair Elduvar, High King of the Fae.”
I could almost feel the blood drain from my face. A hand gripped my shoulder as I swayed a little on my feet—Declan, probably sensing my distress.
“Is Draven…” I caught myself. No asking about Draven, especially in front of a fae. “I’m sorry, I guess I don’t understand. Why would your king send me greetings?”
Lorne extended a hand to me—a hand bearing a rolled paper that appeared to be sealed with actual wax, like something out of a costumed period drama on Netflix.
“My king greets you and bids me convey his hope that you found your recent stay at his enclave to be both restful and restorative. By token of your debt for this hospitality, he bids you accept this summons to appear before him forthwith at the High Court of the Fae.”
For a moment, I didn’t have any words. Especially not words like “forthwith.”
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Draven and Rath had remained at the Fae Court in part to make sure that this didn’t happen. They’d even smuggled me out in the middle of the night because they feared that the more scrutiny I was subjected to by the fae, the more likely that someone would realize who and what I was.
A shapeshifter and a dragon. Even if the fae never found out I was a bronze dragon, it was unlikely to make them happy if they discovered that any dragon had been involved so deeply in fae business.
So what could have happened? Who had told them about me? Rath? Draven?
Or worse, had Llyr not been as dead as we assumed?
I told myself that this could be a mere formality. Maybe it really was about debt, as this guy claimed. The fae intended to bill me for the medical care I’d received at their enclave, and this had nothing at all to do with how I’d ended up needing care in the first place. Maybe the king summoned everyone who owed him money. This all might be completely normal and commonplace, and I could be doing nothing but betraying my own guilt by standing here, frozen, while poor Lorne remained in that awkward pose with his hand out, waiting for me to accept the summons.
I forced myself forward, intending to take it, but I’d somehow forgotten the presence of my brand new babysitters.
Ryker stepped in front of me and yanked the rolled paper from the fae’s hand, looking somehow taller and more menacing than usual in the living room of my tiny apartment.
“You’ve done your duty,” he said briefly, “and now you can leave.”
“No!” I snapped myself out of my paralysis and glared up at my self-appointed bodyguard. “He can’t leave. Not yet. I have questions, and he’s not leaving until he answers them.”
Poor Lorne began to appear more than a little nervous. “What sort of questions?”
“Why does the king want to see me? How long do I have to answer? And what happens if I don’t show up?”
The poor man appeared confused by the idea that someone might not jump to obey his sovereign’s every command.
“I suppose… that is… you will have to read the summons.”
“But I’m not a fae,” I pointed out, plucking the paper from Ryker’s hand. “Therefore, I’m not his subject, and besides, I have a business to run. I don’t see why I should feel obligated to do as your king commands.”
“Because...” The fae floundered for a moment before answering, “It is a matter of courtesy!”
I considered that.
“How is it courtesy for him to demand I travel all the way to his court for no good reason?”
Both of my brothers began to snicker.
“I can’t wait to take you home,” Ryker announced, in between chuckles. “Everyone is going to love you.”
I decided he was being sarcastic, but his amusement mattered less than getting my visitor out of the house before either Ryker or Declan said something I didn’t want the fae to know about. For example, that I was a dragon princess. Or before the visitor said something I didn’t want my brothers to know about—namely anything involving Llyr, Draven, or Rath.
“Okay,” I said hastily, “thank you for delivering the message. You can feel free to run on home now. I’ll read your king’s summons and let him know what I decide.”
Poor Lorne. His mouth flapped, but he wasn’t quite up to the task of defying both Ryker and Declan, who took threatening steps towards him as though considering a more physical approach to his departure.
“Bye now,” I said sweetly, feeling amused despite my worries. “Have a nice trip.”
Helpless to resist, Lorne was swiftly ushered through the door and locked out, at which point Ryker turned to me with one expressive eyebrow raised.
“I can see some clarification might be in order,” he said. “How exactly did you end up with a summons from the Fae Court?”
I dropped my face into one hand while I considered the mess that had somehow been made of my life in a single evening. And it had been in a significant state of disarray to begin with.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll tell you, but can we sit down first?”
Both of them turned to face me and folded their arms across their chests.
“After you explain one thing,” Declan sai
d.
“Yes?” I cringed.
“Who,” Ryker asked sternly, “is Draven?”
I threw my head back and groaned. “I’m going to make tea,” I said.
It took a while to give them even the severely edited version of my adventures in Idria. I wasn’t sure what they’d already heard from Faris, but for some reason, I didn’t think it would be a bright idea to tell them any more than necessary about Draven—about his magic, his position at the Fae Court, or his rather stunningly gorgeous pecs.
I told them he was someone who’d helped me search for Morghaine, but that was all. I didn’t want them asking questions that I couldn’t answer without betraying a friend.
Or maybe I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about him. Not when I was still stung by his lack of communication, and wondering how much of his silence had to do with this summons from King Dathair.
Who also happened to be his father.
Had Draven sold me out?
I didn’t think it was likely, but what did I know about fae politics? Or about Draven, when it came right down to it. We’d known each other for a handful of days. Survived a great deal together, true, but only because of a shared goal. He’d said we were friends, and that he would always find me, but how did I know I could trust that?
Draven wasn’t the only thing I left out of my story—I also didn’t tell my brothers I’d been attacked by a jealous air elemental or held prisoner for ten days by a fae prince. Those seemed to fall comfortably into the category of Things They Didn’t Need to Know. Mostly because I didn’t care to witness their reaction, but also because I wasn’t too sure how my newfound status would affect that reaction. It was one thing for an elemental or a fae to attack a random shapeshifter, but I had no clue how the Shapeshifter Court would react to an attack on one of their royal families.
Royal families… Yeesh.
I did explain the basic facts about Llyr, and as I talked, I gradually convinced Ryker and Declan to sit on my worn couch while I served up Earl Grey in the unique, mismatched coffee mugs that we always had more than enough of. I deliberately gave my brothers the most obnoxious ones I could find, which was my favorite way of finding out whether a person had a sense of humor. Neither of them blinked, and both drank their tea, which probably had more to do with politeness than preference.
