by Lowe, Anna
A truck moved into the lane beside him, and a Land Rover was accelerating from the other side. If he didn’t act fast, one of his options would be cut off. Wales or London?
“Liam…” Gemma motioned urgently at the rapidly approaching fork in the road.
At the last possible second, Liam threw on the blinker and pulled a sharp left.
Gemma yelped. The Land Rover swerved. The truck blared its horn. Liam cursed both vehicles, then exhaled. A minute later, he and Gemma were speeding along the motorway.
Slowly, Gemma unwrapped her fingers from the handle she’d grabbed. Then she compared the map with the signs overhead. “M4 heading west. Are we going to Bristol?”
Liam shook his head. “To Cardiff. Then we’ll hang a hard right.”
Her eyes went wide. “The Brecon Beacons?”
Liam’s jaw swung open as he remembered what she’d said. I love it there. It was as if all the loose threads of his life and hers had tangled together and were pulling them to one place. As crazy and impulsive as his last-minute decision had been, it felt right.
Maybe it’s not crazy, his lion murmured. Maybe it’s destiny.
Chapter Eleven
Gemma spread the map on her lap, tracing their position as Liam drove. For a while, she’d remained mute, trying to settle her nerves. Then, an hour outside London, she’d finally let out the barrage of questions that had built up in her mind. For what seemed like hours, Liam had patiently answered. Now, she was silently digesting everything Liam had explained.
Dragons… Lion shifters… Guardians… And above all, Fire Maidens. Like her.
She gulped and put a finger on Cardiff, the next landmark on the drive. Somehow, that map felt like her lifeline to the normal human world — the boundaries of which had been burst over the past twelve hours.
“So, my father really is descended from dragons. My mother too,” she said slowly.
Liam nodded without taking his eyes off the road.
“What exactly would the Guardians want me to do, if I really am their Fire Maiden?”
She waited as Liam weighed his response before speaking. His forehead was deeply lined, his eyes dark. Gone was the fun, easygoing charmer who bubbled with energy. Now he was a mute soldier in a battle she struggled to comprehend.
“At a superficial level, simply having a Fire Maiden in the city reinforces the power of the ancient spell.”
“The one cast by the dragon queen, Liviana,” Gemma murmured, trying to piece together what she’d learned.
“Witches cast the spell. But, yes — Liviana ordered it. The spell protects the city from evil, but it has been waning. The only thing that can strengthen it is the presence of a Fire Maiden.”
Gemma frowned. “Just her presence? I mean, will it suck away my energy or something?”
He shook his head firmly. “No. On the contrary — it can give you power, too. Power you can use for good. My friend Tristan in Paris…” He trailed off, and a mix of emotions passed over his face. “His mate, Natalie, is a Fire Maiden, and she’s thriving. They both are.”
When he gulped and looked away, Gemma wondered why. Then he hurried on.
“From what I know, some Fire Maidens have been content to simply…well, hang around. They live in the city, and that’s it. But the greatest Fire Maidens — the ones who go down in history — are the ones who harness that power and put it to good use.”
“Like what?”
“Honestly, I don’t know the details. The past few generations of lions have downplayed the significance of Fire Maidens. All I learned about was how high and mighty lions are. Not too much about dragons.” His voice grew bitter, and then he sighed. “But from what I gather, a strong Fire Maiden can accomplish a lot, like forging new alliances. Supporting public projects. Working toward peace and prosperity.” Then he attempted a little chuckle. “Right up your alley.”
She snorted. “I’m just one person contributing to movements that could take decades to bring lasting change. Most of those causes started before my time, and most of them will continue long after I’m gone.” She looked out the window. Once upon a time, she’d actually believed one person could change the world. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
“Natalie is doing a great job in Paris,” Liam said. “She set up a counseling network for homeless people, placing them in jobs and homes. She’s helping single mothers, as well, and she’s even working with the gargoyles to speed up reconstruction efforts at Notre Dame.”
Gemma felt the blood drain from her face. Gargoyles?
She tried distracting herself by studying her bracelets, but that didn’t help. According to Liam, the Guardians had set one out to lure in a Fire Maiden — her — and she despised the idea of being used. On the other hand, she loved having a matched pair, and somehow, she felt stronger with them. More complete, and more powerful in some mysterious way. Why?
A few minutes later, she gave up trying to figure that out. She had enough to come to grips with as it was. Instead, she studied the landscape. They were high on the Severn Bridge, crossing the mighty river while a storm swept down the valley, coming right for them.
“So, I could be a Fire Maiden,” she continued once they approached the far shore. “And the Guardians need me to stick around London. That’s it?”
Liam made a face and mumbled, “More or less.”
She had the distinct impression there was a lot more, but for now, that would do.
“All right, then. If the Guardians are the good guys, why are we running?”
Liam looked stuck, and she wondered if his instincts agreed with hers. That they were smart to run even though she couldn’t explain why. It simply felt right — and more urgent — than anything she had ever felt before.
He tapped the steering wheel, thinking. “The Guardians serve London. I genuinely believe that. But individuals don’t matter to them. They want to control their Fire Maiden in every possible way.” His voice dropped and wavered. “They would protect you, but they would clip your wings and keep you in a gilded cage.”
His words came from the heart, and she wondered whether the bitterness came from personal experience.
“What’s to keep them from coming after us in Wales?”
Liam snorted. “First, I doubt they’d think of it. Hell, I’m surprised I thought of it. They wrote off my father a long time ago, and I guess I did too.” His expression grew morose, and he paused before going on. “Second, Wales is the realm of dragons. As high and mighty as the lions of London consider themselves, they rarely venture from the heart of their empire. So, no. The Guardians won’t come after us here. At most, they’ll send an emissary and try to woo us back.”
Gemma made a face. There was no way she’d be wooed by those bastards. But they were only one part of her problem.
Outside the windows, the sky was a swirling maelstrom of gray clouds that grew ever darker. Sneaking up, almost, like the stalker of her nightmares. Within minutes, visibility dropped and raindrops splattered the windscreen.
I want you, Maiden. And soon, I will have you. Petro’s words echoed through her mind.
She suppressed a little shiver. “My father always warned me about dragons. He never said a word about lions.”
Liam shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t know about us. Anyway, dragons lie at the heart of the problem.”
“The Lombardis,” she said.
He nodded. “Sergio got an ID on the dragon who attacked last night. Lorenzo Lombardi — brother of Petro, last seen in Boston.”
She gulped. So she hadn’t been crazy about the man in the Tube.
Reaching for his phone, she mumbled, “I ought to call my dad. May I use your phone?”
But Liam shook his head so vehemently, she stopped. “Not yet. The less he’s involved, the safer he is. We have to understand exactly who we’re dealing with first. The Lombardis are bad news, no matter which one of them is involved or where they strike. The Guardians are right not to want the Lombardis to find you first.
If they do…” Liam’s hands clenched so tightly over the wheel, his knuckles turned white. “It would be bad for the city, and it would be bad for you.”
Though Liam hadn’t gotten into the details when he’d first explained about the Lombardis, Gemma could read between the lines. She would be stolen away like a princess in feudal times, completely at the mercy of powerful men who took whatever — and whomever — they wanted. Living in a gilded cage sounded like a walk in the park compared to the hell her life would be under the Lombardis.
She clenched and unclenched her hands, studying the lines on her palms. She’d always been an average, girl-next-door type. Now, powerful forces vied for control of her life. She closed her eyes, determined not to bang the dashboard. How the hell had that happened?
Outside, rain hammered the roof, and water splashed the wheel wells, creating a constant, washing sound. The sound of a life spinning out of control. But then Liam wrapped his fingers around hers, halting the chill that crept into her bones.
“We’ll think of something.”
She squeezed his hand and forced herself to smile. She had her very own Lancelot, and the Aston Martin was his trusty steed, carrying them both to safety. But, still. She could no sooner overcome powerful shifter forces than she could halt the storm outside.
“Welsh weather, huh?” Liam joked. “Welcoming us home.”
They rushed past a sign, and she straightened the map over her knees, trying to ground herself in reality.
“Cardiff, coming up,” she said, trying to be matter-of-fact. Then she dipped her head and looked out the driver’s side window. Somewhere to the north, hidden by swirling clouds, were the mountains.
Liam nodded and whispered, more to himself than to her. “The Brecon Beacons.” Then his lips moved a little more, and though no sound came out, she swore she heard one word whisper through his mind. Home.
* * *
By all rights, the drive should have taken them four hours, what with the distance, the weather, and the winding mountain roads they followed over the last few miles. Gemma had driven the same route with her father, and his cautious driving often stretched the trip out to five hours. Liam, on the other hand, made it in closer to three. She didn’t need to ask if they were close, only to watch the furrows in Liam’s brow deepen.
Finally, he eased the car around a tight turn and cruised to a stop, staring ahead. Gemma caught a glimpse of a roof on a hilltop, but Liam shifted into first gear and moved forward before she got a good look.
“That’s it. Home. My father’s place.”
She’d never heard his voice go that tight or the contours his face pinch so deeply.
“When were you last here?” She craned her neck as he navigated the last turns. The hill was so steep, it hid the house, somewhere over the ridge.
“Ten years ago, just to stash my things. Before that…” His chest rose and fell with each uneven breath. “Not since my parents died, though I barely remember.”
His eyes drifted over the landscape, and she wondered how much of that last statement was a fib.
The storm was disappearing over the horizon, leaving gray skies and one of the most dramatic — if soggy — landscapes she had ever seen. Carved between craggy peaks were long, sweeping valleys sliced by rocky outcrops. All in all, a windswept, uninhabited expanse without the villages, stone walls, or sheep they’d passed in the lower slopes.
Wales, the land of dragons. Who would have believed it?
She looked around. It was all so familiar, she wondered how close she’d come to this very part of the Brecon Beacons on walks with her father.
Then Liam turned the last corner, and her breath caught.
“That’s your house?”
Liam nodded wearily.
It was a goddamn castle, but somehow, that didn’t surprise her. What made her jaw drop was that she recognized it. The structure was imprinted in her fondest memories and a recurring sight in her favorite dreams.
“I know this place,” she whispered as Liam turned onto a twisting driveway.
He waved a hand around. “Yes, you mentioned. The Brecon Beacons.”
“No, I mean I know this exact place.” She pointed at the castle. “I’ve been here. At least, close.” She swiveled around, trying to locate the viewpoint she’d seen it from. “I know this castle. I know that tower.”
She gulped, deciding not to mention how often she’d dreamed herself into a life at that castle, with a man and some dogs and her very own happily-ever-after.
Liam looked dubious. “Precisely this place?”
She nodded. “There’s a row of trees around the back, right? And a ruined chapel.”
Liam stopped the car. Those things weren’t visible from this angle, so he had to know she was right. For a long, quiet minute, they looked at each other, then at the castle.
“Wow,” she murmured. “Some coincidence.”
Liam shook his head slowly. “Destiny.”
Destiny, an inner voice told her at exactly the same moment.
She sat, stunned. The concept of fate had always given her the shivers, but somehow, being at that very castle with Liam felt perfectly right. Maybe destiny was more of a guardian angel, not the cruel mistress she’d always assumed it to be.
A huge raven flew over the car, cawing loudly, and Liam jutted his chin. “Bugger. Some things never change.”
She tilted her head.
Liam made a face. “That’s Gareth.”
“Gareth?” She watched as the raven circled one more time then settled on a windowsill.
Liam sighed. “You’ll see.”
They drove on, and a drawbridge came into view. Liam made a hard right and pulled up to a barn, where they both got out to open the double doors. Gemma stood aside as Liam parked, then ducked as a bat flew over her head. The place was musty but neat as a pin.
“This way,” Liam muttered in a Let’s get this over with tone.
Gemma gawked as he led her onward. “Wow. You have a moat and everything.”
“A moat. A portcullis. Suits of armor. Brace yourself.” He sighed. “Many, many suits of armor.”
He lifted the huge iron knocker on the door-within-a-door of the entry, then hesitated. Finally, he slammed it against the door as if to make a statement. Was it I’m back but not to stay or Destiny, here I come?
Either way, it was loud. Plenty loud. Gemma put a hand on Liam’s shoulder, and the next three bangs were a little less forceful. More…resigned, almost. Then he waited a minute, lifted the knocker again, and—
The door opened, and a tall, thin man in a dark suit scowled at him.
“I was on my way. Sir.”
Liam broke into a wide grin. “Hello, Gareth. And here I was, thinking you might have gone deaf.”
“Not yet. Unfortunately,” the man said dryly.
His hair — jet-black peppered with a little gray — was freshly windswept, and the sweeping motion he made to usher them in echoed the motion of the raven’s wings.
“This is Gemma,” Liam said as they stepped in.
“Miss.” Gareth gave her a stiff bow.
Gemma did her best to bow back. “Nice to meet you.”
As they walked, she peeked out of the corner of her eye. Was Gareth the caretaker? A butler? And, whoa — if he was a raven shifter, what other species existed? Did tiny mouse shifters reside in the castle pantries?
“Gareth has been here since before I was born,” Liam said as they walked through a lofty hall lined by arches, each occupied by a suit of armor set in a stand.
“Since before your father was born,” Gareth corrected. “Sir.”
Gemma pinched her lips. Poor Liam. He might have proven himself to her, but not to Gareth.
Not yet, she decided, squeezing Liam’s hand.
The entrance hall led to a dining room that could have hosted an entire medieval court. Gemma pictured knights, ladies, and jesters consuming steaks and drinking from horns. She quickened her pace to keep up with
Liam and Gareth, who headed into a smaller room on the left. A library, from the looks of it, with floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with leather-bound books. There, she nearly ran into Liam, who stopped to stare at the huge oak desk in one corner of the room. Had his father worked at that desk? His grandfather?
She touched his back without saying a word.
“May I ask how long the young master and his guest intend to stay?”
Gareth’s face was perfectly neutral, but Gemma could guess what Liam’s answer would be — namely, as brief a stay as possible.
“Not sure yet,” Liam murmured, still looking at the desk. Then his eyes drifted to the window. Gemma’s did too, checking the sky for enemy dragons.
A chill went through her. How safe was this place? And for how long?
Chapter Twelve
Hours later, Gemma sat on a couch with her feet pulled up beside her, staring into the crackling fireplace of the parlor. Man, was she exhausted. Liam was too; she could tell. He’d spent the afternoon coming and going, tending to business with Gareth. Every time he stepped out, he looked weary and forlorn, and every time he returned, his face lit up upon seeing her. She lit up too. Liam hadn’t been part of her life for long, but somehow, it felt as if he belonged.
Forever, a scratchy voice whispered in her mind.
She watched the fire snap and swirl. It was as if there’d been a hole in her life she hadn’t even been aware of, and now it was filled. But, damn. She’d had a hell of a couple of days between the dragon attack and their rush to leave London. The fact that she’d slept with Liam — without second thoughts of any kind — made her wonder how off-kilter she really was.
Please, please, let this not all turn out to be one huge mistake, she prayed.
He’s no mistake, that scratchy voice replied.
That voice was something deep inside her she’d heard at different times in her life, though never as often and as clearly as now. Was it the voice of her ancestors? Her inner dragon? Destiny?
She’d had tea with Liam and, more recently, dinner — a hearty stew with thick slices of dark bread that could have come from a medieval kitchen. Outside, rain came and went, and the wind howled, though the tapestries insulating the walls kept any draft from sneaking in.
